#uncomfortable. like. I don’t think of myself as resilient At All and I feel a bit like I’m lying or tricking them.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[gudfornuthin]

Hate is a strong word

Dae ho x gn!reader

Summary: you’re not easily annoyed, but player 388 has been getting on your nerves. Is it hate, or something more intense?

A/N: I want to preface☝🏻I’m not good at writing anything too smutty. I’ve tried my best and hope you all enjoy but yeah this is as far as smut goes for me lmao. Based on this and this request. Feedback is appreciated :)

You hate his guts. Player 388 (you don’t care enough to learn his name) has made it his mission to piss you off any chance he gets. The very first game. Tripping you over. Bumping into your back causing you to almost get killed. Apparently both times were accidents. Then it seemed to get more personal.

He acts surprised and mad that you pass the second game. Rolling his eyes and slow clapping. Hitting your shoulder with his whenever you walk by to vote or get food. You can’t even think about ‘mingle’ without wanting to punch someone. He made it incredibly clear that the group he was in was not picking you. They needed an extra person? No chance, as he does his best to block you from the other players.

You want to confront him about it all. In general, he seemed like a reasonable guy. To everyone else at least. Very polite, enthusiastic and willing to get to know people better. Except for you. There was a target on your back, and player 388 was aiming right for it. Two can play at that game.

It’s late, and you’re in the bathroom leaning over the sink and splashing some water on your face. Like most people, the games have been getting to you mentally, and the only time you have a chance to think is when everyone else is asleep.

Unfortunately, the door opens, forcing you out of your moment of peace. You turn and see the smiling face of the man who’s been causing you trouble.

“Fantastic,” you huff and mumble under your breath.

He spots you by the sinks, the smile on his face quickly dropping. “Oh. Didn’t realise there was anyone else in here.”

“Just needed some time by myself to think,” you respond, hoping he’ll leave the conversation at that.

He doesn’t, as he moves and enters one of the stalls, his voice now slightly muffled. “Why? You ready to give up?”

You ignore him, knowing he’s trying to get a rise out of you. It’s not worth it. Don’t give him what he wants.

Player 388 exits the stall, walking over to the sinks and washing his hands. “If I were you I’d give up. Someone like you will never make it to the end.”

You finally snap. “Alright,” you back up from the sinks, glaring at the back of his head. “Have I done something to piss you off?”

Player 388 turns around, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He shrugs, looking shocked as if he didn’t expect the confrontation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” you respond. “Since the first game it’s like you’ve had a vendetta against me. For what?”

Player 388 doesn’t say anything, almost lost for words. He shifts uncomfortably, looking you up and down several times. You’re still unsure of his reasons, why he may have formed a dislike for you. But if he wants to get under your skin, then you’ll have to go deeper.

You move closer to where he stands. “Oh I get it now,” he looks up. “You’re threatened.”

“Am not,” he says, sounding like an angry child.

You shake your head, staring at him in the most patronising way you can. “You definitely are. Ex marine, acting all tough, wanting the respect he so desperately craves.”

You can tell your words are getting to him, as his nostrils flare and his brow furrows. You carry on talking.

“You see someone like me, doing just as if not better than you. Braver, stronger, more resilient. It kills you.”

You’ve moved closer, now toe to toe. You can practically feel his breath on your face.

“All that training, and deep down you’re still that terrified little bitch that had to join the marines because you weren’t good enough for anything else.”

Thump!

Player 388’s fist slams right into your jaw, knocking you sideways. You’re shocked, grabbing the side of your face and feeling a painful throbbing. You look up at player 388, a similar expression on his face.

“Oh shit-”

He doesn’t have time to say much else before you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist and pushed him to the ground. You both yell out as you crawl on top of him, throwing punch after punch, hoping one will hit. It feels messy and awkward, and you can already feel the bruises forming all over your body, but this was the breaking point.

You continue hitting player 388, your hips bucking slightly from him writhing underneath you. He lets out a small moan, loud enough for you to hear. You still, as the pair of you look at each other with shock. You move your hips harder this time, another moan coming from player 388.

“Does this turn you on?” You whisper, leaning down closer to his face. “Me beating the shit out of you, or me sitting on you like this?”

You move once more, player 388 now moving his hands to rest on your legs, halting your back and forth rocking. You can already feel something hard poking at your inner thigh, instead taking your hand and moving it to the space in between you. Pressing down, he whines, as you stroke over the fabric of his pants.

Your mouth is hovering over his, as you smirk slightly. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”

Player 388 nods his head rapidly, as you lean down and kiss him, teeth clashing and lips devouring each other. The taste of blood falls on your tongue, not sure if it’s from the make out session or the aftermath of punching him until he bled. You can’t believe this is how things turned out. Not that you’re one to complain.

Your hand moves into his pants, gripping him strongly and continuing the stroking motion. Player 388 tries to grab your hips, but you swat him away with your other hand.

“Put your hands above your head,” you say in between kisses.

He does so, as your free hand follows them up and grabs both his wrists. You hold them in place as you pump his shaft, his none stop whining rumbling from his throat.

“Pl-please,” player 388 whimpers. “I n-need to-”

You pump him faster now, not letting him say anything else. “You wanna cum?”

Tears well up in his eyes, as your kisses trail down from his mouth to his neck. His legs are shaking and he tries desperately to move his hips higher, thrusting his member further into your hand. You’re both breathless, and you can tell player 388 is reaching his limit.

Just as he’s about to release into ecstasy, you quickly pull both your hands away, leaning back and staring down at him. He lets out a shocked gasp, raising his head as best as he can to look at you. He looks lost and you smile.

“This was fun,” you say, standing up and towering over his body. “I’m sure you can finish without me.”

You can’t help but laugh, as you slowly walk out of the bathroom, looking back briefly to see his disheveled and angry expression piercing into your figure. You still hate his guts, but he definitely hates yours more now.

- - -

Taglist:

@h3ll0k1ttyx @ivanttier @shewanfsrevenge @sugalump3d

(Sorry if it didn’t tag everyone)

[nerdygaymormon]

I understand this may sound almost childish but how do you handle your emotions when upsetting discourse takes place in a meeting?

Just got out of Elders Quorum and while most of the discussion was held with good intentions, it started to dip into good ol’ Holier than Thou ‘but not really’ and more particularly referencing a Seminary Q&A panel question with the answer of ‘Mastery of self’ comparing Being LGBTQIA+ is just as much a matter of Self Mastery as any other struggle (Cis/Hetero attraction and porn brought up as The Same)

While I had suspected it to take that turn, I knew I was too emotionally charged in the moment and didn’t speak up for the sake of not rocking the boat in turbulent waters so to speak, despite having several ideas to deepen discussion (as well as time running out) . Especially with the debate as to come out then and there to Make a Point. But more importantly and impactful of the point of “Let’s Ask Questions” instead of Push out Guidance

There were some more compassionate voices that soothed it somewhat but I don’t know how to handle it as of the moment. Should I bring it up again in the future?

Do you think it’s just an age/experience thing? Where as I get older I’ll have a better grasp on myself?

Oof, that's tough.

The idea that they're comparing being queer to being cis/hetero is rich because the LDS Church encourages people to act on being cis/hetero and rewards them, while telling queer people that being queer is alright as long as you don't act on it. If queer people were treated the same, had the same teachings that we'd be rewarded in heaven, then that would be an apt comparison, but this is not the reality we live with.

It's especially hard to be in discussions like this when you're not out of the closet. For one thing, people feel free to share their hot takes when they don't think there's any queer people present. Another is that being in the closet makes it difficult to speak in response, being able to speak openly as a queer person gives you a certain power.

When I was in the closet and those types of lessons happened, especially when I wasn't expecting a discussion on LGBTQ topics, sometimes I just didn't have the spoons to speak up. I would keep my head down, or at some point I would get up and leave the room.

Even as someone who is out, these types of impromptu conversations in a lesson are difficult. Once, instead of speaking up as the lone queer person, I instead spoke to the bishop afterwards about the comments made and the problems with them. He asked what I wanted done to correct the situation and offered several proposals.

To be a queer Latter-day Saint means to be resilient. Here's a few ideas on how to build your resilience:

Build a group of friends you can talk to about these things. Other queer members are good for this, and they can be online or irl. It helps a lot to be understood.

Counter the negative things said about queer people, even if it is just you telling affirmative things to yourself. Do not let negative words go unchallenged because the subconscious has a way of accepting those things.

When I hear things like that, I think to myself these 3 questions: Does that sound like the God I know? Do these words fit with the two great commandments about love? Do I resemble the queer people they're describing? So often the answer to all 3 of these is a resounding NO and I know I can ignore what they're saying.

Think about ways you can respond in the future so that you're prepared. One that I love is if the question is asked "What is something evil that people today consider good?" Raise your hand immediately and without waiting to be called on blurt out "Homophobia and queerphobia" as that makes it uncomfortable for others to say gay marriage or being queer is evil. Here's a few more phrases you can have ready: "These are real people you're talking about, would they feel welcomed and loved if they were here today?" "When I face my maker, I don't think it'll be said that I loved people too much, so I'm going to err on the side of love." "I'm commanded to love my neighbor not my church."

Being in that situation can be anxious and stressful. Learn some breathing techniques that can help calm your body..

I think one thing that makes it difficult to be in these situations as a closeted person is often we haven't experienced queer joy. Being queer shouldn't be defined by only pain or trauma. Queer joy is different than Pride, by which I mean it's not a big celebration, but often is small things such as having a queer friend, eating cake at the wedding of a gay couple, the satisfaction at seeing queer people in a leadership role, learning about queer history and the many ways queer people have worked to make life better, when you embrace the freedom to dress and be yourself, when someone gives you a compliment related to you being queer, and so on.

If you have access to therapy, I recommend it. If you're a college student in the US, your student fees likely cover access to see a therapist on campus. If not, perhaps your insurance will cover sessions with a therapist. The university where I work offers therapy to the community at a discount rate, it's a way for those who aren't licensed to get hours while being supervised by a professor.

Straight Mormons cannot effectively teach what queer Mormons actually experience. Those who aren't close to a queer family member or friend cannot speak knowledgably. Unfortunately most LGBTQ Latter-day Saints have been pushed out and aren't available inside the church and collectively the church is poorer for it.

Here's a novel thought, I wish they would focus more on presenting the actual message and teachings of Christ, what a different world this could be.

[blue2jay]

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Accidental Insult

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Summary:Your family(Mother and Sister)makes a rude joke at your expense, assuming you won’t defend yourself. Leon doesn’t laugh, his calm but deadly glare silencing the room as he gives a cutting response in your defense

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“Accidental Insult”

The dining room was lively with chatter, the table filled with food and half-hearted small talk. You sat beside Leon, feeling a little out of place as your mother and sister took turns dominating the conversation. It wasn’t unusual—these dinners always seemed to revolve around Melissa and whatever praise your mother could heap on her.

“So, Melissa,” your mother began, her smile overly bright, “how’s David handling the new renovations? He’s such a hard worker, unlike—well…” Her gaze flickered to you briefly before she trailed off, the implication clear.

You tensed, your hand freezing mid-reach for your glass. You didn’t need her to finish to know who the “unlike” was aimed at. Leon noticed immediately, his grip on his fork tightening slightly as he glanced at you.

Melissa, clearly encouraged, smirked as she took a sip of wine. “Well, at least I don’t have to rely on Leon to carry me, right?” She snickered, and your mother joined in with a soft laugh. “Honestly, Y/N, how did you convince someone like him to stick around?”

The room went still, their laughter echoing awkwardly as Leon set his fork down with a deliberate clink. His blue eyes, usually warm and steady, turned ice-cold as he looked across the table.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice calm but chillingly sharp, “did I miss the joke?”

The laughter died instantly. Your mother blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Oh, Leon, we were just teasing—Y/N knows we’re joking.”

Leon didn’t waver. He sat back in his chair slightly, his calm expression only amplifying the tension in the room. “I don’t see what’s funny about belittling someone you’re supposed to care about.” His words were soft, but the weight behind them was impossible to miss.

Melissa shifted uncomfortably. “We were just playing around. Y/N doesn’t mind—do you, Y/N?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Leon was quicker, his gaze locking onto Melissa like a storm brewing. “I mind.”

The two words hit like a hammer, the room falling completely silent.

Leon leaned forward slightly, his tone unrelenting but never raised. “Y/N doesn’t need to ‘convince’ me of anything. She’s the most capable, kind, and resilient person I know. If anyone here is lucky, it’s me—and I’d suggest you stop pretending otherwise.”

Your mother shifted in her seat, flustered. “Leon, we didn’t mean—”

“You did,” he cut her off, his eyes never leaving hers. “You meant every word. But let me make one thing clear—if “But let me make one thing clear—if you think tearing her down makes you look better, it doesn’t. All it does is show how little you understand her worth.”

The room was deathly quiet. Your mother’s mouth opened and closed like she wanted to respond but couldn’t find the words. Melissa shrank back slightly, suddenly far less smug under Leon’s sharp, unflinching gaze.

Leon leaned back again, his voice softening slightly, though his edge remained. “Y/N has done more for the people around her—myself included—than you’ll ever realize. She’s not the punchline to your jokes, and I won’t sit here and pretend otherwise.”

The silence hung heavy, no one daring to break it. You glanced at Leon, your chest tight with both gratitude and awe. He wasn’t angry—not exactly. It was the calm certainty of his words that rattled everyone in the room. He meant every syllable, and they all knew it.

Your mother, clearly uncomfortable, cleared her throat and reached for her glass. “Well, I suppose it’s good you care so much, Leon,” she muttered, though her usual sharpness was nowhere to be found.

Your sister didn’t dare say anything, choosing instead to stare down at her plate, her earlier smugness completely wiped away.

Across the table, your grandmother finally spoke, her voice breaking the tense quiet like a breath of fresh air. “Well, I’ll say it,” she declared, her tone firm but warm as she looked at you. “Y/N doesn’t need anyone to defend her, but it’s about time someone reminded you all of her value. Leon, you’re a good man.”

Leon gave her a small nod, his expression softening. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Your grandfather grunted approvingly from his seat, crossing his arms with a satisfied smirk. “About time someone shut them up.” He turned to you then, his gaze gentle. “Don’t let them make you doubt yourself, Y/N. You’ve got more grit and heart than most people I know.”

You smiled faintly, warmth blooming in your chest as you whispered, “Thanks, Grandpa.”

Leon turned to you, his hand reaching for yours under the table and squeezing it gently. When he looked at you, his expression was completely different—soft, reassuring, and full of love. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, your heart swelling as you whispered back, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

The rest of dinner passed in awkward silence, your mother and sister subdued for the first time in ages. Leon kept his calm demeanor throughout, though his hand never left yours, a constant reminder of his support.

As you and Leon walked out of the house later that night, you couldn’t help but smile up at him. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

Leon stopped, turning to face you fully as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes, I did. You deserve better than their jokes, and I’m not going to let anyone—family or not—make you feel small.”

Your smile grew as you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his chest. “Thank you for always standing up for me.”

Leon wrapped his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Always, Y/N. You’re worth it.”

And in that moment, you knew it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. With Leon by your side, you had someone who saw your worth—someone who loved you exactly as you were.

[echo-sigh]

Hello, Echo. I’m sending this as Im fend up with my friends treatment by k9 and his staff. Im sending this myself as I do not wish for my very close friend to be sent death treats by k9s awful dickriding community. Yes I said it but its true and they was trying to be civil and respectful to him and his staff team by talking about their concerns but was brushed off and banned cause k9 cant handle accountability. They were a person who has been directly impacted by k9s horrible attitude and personality.

I have thorough evidence of the whole conversation within the ticket and how they was treated along with a message that they were typing up that they didnt even get to send cause i was banned.

See message below along with screen recordings of everything talked about on my account in a post as videos cant be sent in asks:

“I quite frankly think I need to be blunt to get my point across as honestly as possible, so I apologise in advance for the tone moving forward, because this genuinely concerns me as a fan of your artwork. I need to honestly express my frustration about how things have been handled today especially as a minor myself. Instead of addressing the issues head-on, it seems like there’s a pattern of enabling behavior that ultimately reflects poorly on all of us. This isn’t just about you k9; it’s about fostering accountability and growth, and right now, that’s not happening.

Moreover, the way this has been approached has made me feel undervalued and disrespected. I’m here trying to support and advocate for what’s best, but instead, I’m being met with defensiveness and disregard. It’s disheartening, and I believe we all need to be on the same page if we want to create a positive environment.

The way you and your staff team are handling your mistakes is not just hurtful to your reputation and community but also wildly ineffective. All it is doing is making this more incriminating. By enabling the notion to avoid hard conversations just because they are *hard* to deal with isn't okay and all you are doing is subconsciously teaching yourself and your fan base that it's okay to hide from reality just because it's uncomfortable and not at all how to real world works.

I have noticed many instances and have given proof of them where these mistakes were brushed aside or excused cause it was uncomfortable to face the truth. Putting a metaphorical veil over your errors and pretending they don’t exist may seem in the moment the best thing to do but this is actually a genuine disservice. It’s time to own up and recognize that making mistakes isnt a disease and is a part of life just like discomfort is as we are only human. If you keep shielding yourself from discomfort you are setting yourself up for a harsh reality check in the future and from experience it wont be pretty.

The reality is that life is full of challenges and if you don’t teach yourself to face them now you’ll struggle even more down the line. You as someone who has a platform, a large one at that should be promoting resilience, critical thinking, self awareness, and ownership of your actions.

Im not only saying this cause i myself am upset but because i genuinely care about this community and its future and believe its time you start being more honest and changing your approach to these kinds of tickets and it starts with the uncomfortable and unavoidable trusts. lets focus on faces our own actions head on rather than suffocating and coddling them. Making mistake are normal and i wasnt trying to make you out to be a bad person for it.”

See videos reblogged before this for context.

[hiraethminds]

i'm interested in hearing more about what you've to say about One and Fanny (but you don't have to talk about 'em unless you want to)

idk if your talking about the ship or the separate characters so I’ll do both:

first normal cannon:

I guess I’ll talk about what attracted me to the characters in the first place! First I liked Fanny bc she has a nice design in bfb and that was it. As I kept watching I really resonated with how expressive and open she is even if it was kinda just… “I hate ____” I love how she seems like a dumb hothead but when you dig a little deeper she has legitimate reasons for her behavior! With good intentions! She’s very passionate about things it’s just hard to tell under that outward demeanor (I am a huge fan of this trope “mean guy with a heart of gold” IT KILLSSS MEEEE J LOVE IT)I liked her even better in tpot because she caused a lot of strife+went thru a lot. I ❤️ messy bitches, but through it all she kept her head on a swivel and came out a better person.

as for one egh I most just like her for the mystery… OKAY BUT IN THE EPS WITH BB AND GATY I KINDA “EHEGHEGEED” a little I LOVE HOW SHORT OF A FUSE SHE HASSSSS. She’s the exact opposite of Fanny and conceals a lot of frustrations she has with the world but you can see peeks of this anger when she gets impatient. I don’t care for villains who have all their shit together and are “cool as a cucumber” 24/7 I so happy she sounds desperate sometimes and that she get annoyed over the smallest things it’s awesome.

Ship ramble below

Thank u for being my sacrificial lamb so that I feel like I have permission to ramble about my crack ship of all time.

disclaimer. This is a crack ship that only exists to amuse me. I don’t take myself seriously. It’s okay if you hate it. If you think I’m the worst person to ever walk the earth for even thinking about it you’d be right, I’m for sure going to all the hells. Judaism, Christianity, Islam, there are also many hells in Buddhism & Hinduism I will be bathed in brimstone.

also this ship is naturally ooc so I’m not to concerned with staying completely in character.

Literally the closest comparison I can make is movie dr.robotnik and stone. it’s entirely one sided, fanny likes girls and one closely resembles a typical girl so wah la girlcrush. But Fanny would also appreciate One’s resilience she would lothe One’s dishonesty so equal parts admiration and “what is wrong with her” the hate leads to an odd obsession which leads to fanny finding something genuinely admirable about One and then this cycle starts over again.

One is uncomfortable working with equals and entirely views Fanny as a dumb pawn, maybe she is aware to some extent Fanny is romantically interested in her but she’ll probably exploit this. Very toxic and bad.

but One finds this entertaining! She dgaf! eventually these feelings of amusement bleed into genuine affection but One will never see Fanny as her intellectual equal. So when Fanny starts getting pissed and is not scared to start calling One out on how much of an asshole they are being, One eventually get #humbled. And then they can be like normal gfs or whatever.

[wosotales]

Behind The Kit: Arsenal's Chosen Family - Rehab and Resilience

Beth's rehab feels like an endless cycle of frustration, monotony and setbacks, and one day it all gets too much when she lashes out at her fellow teammates, and Kim isn't about to let her attitude slide at all.

Rehab days had blurred into one for Beth, each one a battle against mounting frustration. The steady hum of the gym machines and chatter of teammates felt like a cruel reminder of what she couldn’t do– no pitches, no games, just repetition and monotony.

The ACL crew had been her lifeline, a source of laughter and encouragement when the grind felt endless. They reminded one another that progress was progress, no matter how small.

But today, Beth wasn’t in the mood for camaraderie.

“All right, let’s smash these balance drills!” One of the staff members said cheerily, trying to motivate the blonde, who wasn’t having any of it today.

Beth snorted, “Yeah because wobbling around on a stupid board is really going to get me back on the pitch faster,” she muttered, “What’s the point?”

“It’s part of the process, Beth,” The staff member replied, their tone patient but firm.

“Whatever. Easy enough for you to say when you’re not the one stuck doing this,” Beth snapped, “What do you even know?”

“Hey,” Leah noticed the tension, stepping in gently, “Why don’t you take a moment and breathe?”

“I don’t need to breathe!” Beth shot back, her voice sharp, “Maybe you should focus on your rehab instead of trying to play therapist, Leah.”

Leah blinked, taken aback, “There’s no need for that, Beth. I was only trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” Beth muttered under her breath.

“Beth–” Before Laura can even begin to speak, Beth is quick to cut her off.

“Oh, don’t you start. You can barely get through your exercises without needing someone to show you how to do them properly,” Beth turned on her,

Laura’s face fell, “I… I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t. Help yourself instead,” Beth muttered, bitterly.

“Beth,” Viv furrowed her brow, resting a gentle hand on Beth’s shoulder, “What is going on?”

“Nothing! Why don’t you mind your own business and worry about yourself instead of me?” Beth shot back in an icy tone of voice.

“Beth,” Kim’s voice, sharp and authoritative cut through the room, “Here. Now.”

Beth froze, hesitation flickering across her face.

“Don’t make me drag you over here myself, Bethany,” Kim warned, her patience thin, “Come here, brat. Now.”

The words sent a ripple of tension through the gym. No one argued with Kim–her authority was absolute.

Beth, however, didn’t seem phased in the slightest. She rolled her eyes, but trudged over, dragging her feet dramatically.

Kim’s expression was unreadable, her arms crossed over her chest, “Explain to me why I just walked in to find you having a go at the girls?”

“I… I didn’t mean it,” Beth mumbled, looking down.

“Oh, but I think you did,” Kim’s voice was dangerously low, “Do you think it’s acceptable to talk to them like that?” she asked.

Beth bit her bottom lip, shifting uncomfortably in her spot, “No, Mama.”

Do you not think it’s hard for everyone in here?” The older woman continued to ask.

“It… It is,” Beth replied, refusing to meet Kim’s gaze.

Kim hummed in agreement, “Exactly, there’s no need for such comments like that, Beth.”

“I… I know. I’m just frustrated,” Beth admitted, slumping her shoulders, “Every day feels like the same. It’s so gruelling and I feel like I’m not making any progress. I just feel like I’m stuck in an endless loop.”

Kim’s stern expression faltered to be replaced by a sympathetic smile, “I get that, Beth, we all do. But that still isn’t an excuse to speak to the girls, and staff members in that way now, does it?”

“No, Mama…” Beth mumbled quietly, staring at the floor.

Kim raised an eyebrow, “And you know what happens now, don’t you?”

Beth’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “Mama, no… Not here,” Beth whined, resistant to be punished.

Kim’s expression didn’t waver, “Why not? I think it’s reasonable considering you decided to snap at everyone in here.”

Beth stood where she was, stomping her foot in a tantrum-like way, “Mama…”

“It’s too late for that, Beth. Over my knee. Now,” Kim ordered.

“Mama–” Beth’s protests are cut short.

“Beth, I’m not going to repeat myself,” Kim insisted, firmly.

Still, Beth hesitated, pleading with her eyes.

“No, Mama. No, I… I didn’t mean it. I swear. I’ll say sorry,” Beth pleaded.

“Right, that’s it,” Kim’s patience snapped, grabbing Beth firmly, pulling her over her knee with practised ease, restraining her with cuffs, “You know better than this, brat. You just continue to test me, don’t you?”

“Ow— Mama, stop. Please,” Beth cried, tears pricking at her eyes.

“It’s too late for that now,” Kim replied, her voice firm but not unkind, “You don’t speak to people like that and expect to get away with it. Do you understand me?”

“Ow, Mama! P… Please, stop. I’m sorry,” Beth whined, attempting to try and wriggle free.

“I said do you understand me?” Kim repeated, landing another smark against the blonde’s backside.

“Y… Yes, I understand you. I… I do, stop please, Mama,” Beth continued to thrash from where she was lying over Kim’s lap.

“I’m teaching you a lesson, brat,” Kim didn’t relent her force on the smacks she was reigning down on Beth, “You will not speak to teammates or staff like that. You will respect them, and you will respect your captains.”

“Y… Yes, Mama,” Beth hiccuped.

“Good,” Kim said, nodding in confirmation, “It’s over now, sweetheart. You’ve learnt your lesson, haven’t you?”

Beth stood there, feeling the sting in her backside, looking very remorseful for herself, “I… I have. I’m sorry, Mama.”

“I know you are,” Kim said in a gentle tone of voice, “I know it can be tough going through this but you don’t take it out on the people are you, okay? They’re your teammates, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Beth mumbled, tears in her eyes.

“Now I want you to apologise to the girls, and the staff as well. Alright?” Kim told her, “You know better than to be rude.”

“Alright,” Beth begrudgingly agreed, shuffling back over to Viv, Leah and Laura, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s okay,” Viv replied, placing a hand on Beth’s shoulder.

Laura nodded in agreement, “We get it can be tough.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Leah said, waving her off in response as she smiled at the blonde, “Rehab is tough. We’re all bound to get wound up every so often.”

“Now the staff,” Kim prompted her, guiding her gently.

Beth turned in their direction, her hands fumbling together as she messed with the hem of her training top and refused to meet their eye, “I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have spoken to you in that way. I lost my temper and snapped.”

“It’s understandable Beth. Tempers can be frayed, it’s okay,” The staff member stated, knowingly.

“I apologised, Mama,” Beth finally looked back at Kim, hoping for some sign of approval.

“Good girl, I’m proud of you for apologising,” Kim said, smiling softly as she brushed a stray strand of Beth’s hair out of her face, “Now I know it’s a tough day, so how about you call it a day for now? You can continue tomorrow.”

Beth hesitated to agree, “I need to continue…”

“No sweetheart. That’s enough for today, let’s go home. No more today,” Kim told her firmly.

“But Mama,” Beth whined.

“Enough,” Kim’s tone left no room for argument. She wrapped an arm around Beth’s shoulder, guiding her toward the exit,  “Come on, let’s go.”

By the time they reached the car, Beth’s defiance had faded. She climbed into the passenger seat with a dramatic huff but immediately leaned into Kim’s side, resting her head on her shoulder, “I don’t wanna do this anymore, Mama,” she mumbled, her voice thick with emotion.

Kim sighed, threading her fingers through Beth’s hair, “I know, baby. I know it’s hard,” she soothed, “But you’re doing so well, and I’m so proud of you for that.”

Beth whined softly, curling into herself, “Feel like I’m never gonna be normal again.”

“You will, sweetheart,” Kim promised, kissing the top of Beth’s head, “But right now, you need to rest. Let’s get you home, changed into some comfy clothes, and then we’ll cuddle, yeah?”

Beth sniffled, nodding, “Can we eat chocolate too?”

Kim chuckled, smiling in agreement, “Of course, baby. Anything you want.”

[wishcamper]

No question just reminding you that your writing makes a difference and I love both your analysis series and your fic! If it's something you're interested in exploring, I would love to hear your thoughts on how pop psychology and over reliance on short form content lead to community issues. For years there's been a trend of people with surface level knowledge using out of context buzzwords to police and shame people who dare have symptoms they're not 100% in control of.

Wow, such a kind thing to say! I often feel like I’m bashing my head against my own fist so I’m glad to know something worthwhile is coming out of it lol

An interesting question, and I would first ask: do we know that this is happening? The general mental health-ification of the internet has been happening for a few years now, and it’s sort of hard to know the effects given it’s still an evolving situation. But I’ll speak to some things I’ve seen personally that might be relevant.

The first is that people, and particularly young people, are more mental health literate than they have ever been. This is largely good! AND - TikTok and other social media has become kind of like WebMD for mental health disorders and relational dysfunction. Because of this, a lot of people fall down the self-diagnosis rabbit hole in the same way. And sometimes that’s helpful when it motivates people to seek treatment, but can be harmful because of the vast amount of misinformation on the internet. And treatment is still very inaccessible due to cost and availability, leaving people to go it alone with unvetted resources. So we have a climate where people are aware of mental health issues, there’s lot of misinformation, and credible help is hard to get. This is a breeding ground for pop psychology and therapy influencers to take root.

So to your questions: I do see a lot of folks using (and misusing) clinical terms in irl situations. Its part of the reason I hate that mental healthcare is so embedded in the medical systems because everything gets shoehorned into diagnostic labels when it’s not necessary. Some top culprits include boundaries, gaslighting, triggers, as well as diagnoses like BPD, NPD, DID, etc.

Ex: gaslighting is often thrown around when people disagree. Someone remembering something different than you is not abuse - the more likely reality is that human memory is complex and bad. Gaslighting is a deliberate tactic used to make you question your memory/sanity. It requires intent to deceive.

Ex: Narcissistic Personality Disorder is a medical diagnosis that requires a person to experience distress and loss of functioning from the consequences of their compulsively self centered behavior. Sometimes people are just being assholes. A person treating you badly doesn’t require a diagnosis. But labels can make people feel more oriented and in control, because YOURE the bad/wrong/sick one and therefore I don’t have to look at myself.

I think this has two effects:

1. An overly cognitive view and experience of human behavior that pathologizes normal, messy multi-faceted reactions and interactions in an effort to find a sense of security and predictability via control.

2. A lower tolerance for productive conflict and adverse experiences that robs people of opportunities to build resilience and experience meaning from the suffering that visits us all at some point or other.

In fandom spaces, I think this shows up as an unwillingness to question why we react to things the way we do, why certain things make us uncomfortable instead of immediately rejecting them wholesale. There’s valuable information in the things that chafe us, and so much of the work I do with folks is about being brave and actively seeking that information in a safe, contained space. It’s a vulnerable thing, and it’s natural for our defensive responses to get activated (fight, flight, freeze, and fawn). and my totally unfounded theory is that the folks who are being vicious and keyboard warriory are defaulting to a fight response: be scary to make the thing stop. It’s a self-protection strategy at its core, but it fandom spaces it translates as bullying because well.. it is. They’re trying to defend a space, even an online one, by trying to be scary enough not to fight with.

Art is inherently self-reflective, both in the making of and the interacting with, where consumption is about satisfaction. My hope is that in fandom we can move toward creation as a conversation instead of as a product that does or does not fulfill what someone is looking for. I think there will always be demand for super tropey, digestible, just for fun content and that’s great, but I also would love to see more folks be willing to engage with things that make them uncomfortable in an effort to find out why. That’s the kind of fandom I’m interested in being a part of. For some people it’s never going to be that deep, but I’d like to think in my little corner that’s the kind of stuff we get excited about.

[elliott-the-creature]

12, 15, 19 and 24 for the ask game!!!!

12. What’s some good advice you want to share?

hmmm… that’s kinda tricky. I’d say, don’t be afraid to reinforce your boundaries. many people tend to pressure you into doing things you don’t feel comfortable with, or do and say things that are against what you believe in. if that happens, don’t be scared to tell them “hey, I don’t like it when you do/say that, can you please stop?”. there’s been many a time where reinforcing my boundaries could’ve prevented something bad from happening, but I was such a people pleaser that I convinced myself that I was just being weak and/or narrowminded for having boundaries, and let people step over me and make me uncomfortable. and this goes for anyone! just because this person is really close to you doesn’t mean they should get away with being a jerk.

15. What do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

I think of my warm, cozy room, and being safe from all the things that make me upset and angry. I also think of my family, and that they all care about me and I care about them. at times, I think about the places that make me feel happy and safe, like the woods in my city and the mountains I go to on roadtrips.

19. Favourite thing about the day?

I would say my favourite thing about the day is how alive everything feels. the sun is shining (if it’s sunny, that is), the wind is carrying dozens of smells and sounds, and everything is moving and interacting with the world. even when there are different weathers (like, if it’s raining), you can still feel the vitality and energy of the world, and it makes me really appreciate living. (sounds kinda hippy like, but that’s just me lol)

24. What’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

oooh… that’s tough. I would probably have to say I’m proud of my ability to swim. I was always a pretty good swimmer, but I taught myself how to be more resilient and conserve my stamina, which makes me able to swim more and dive deeper underwater. I’ve also learned from some other people how to hold my breath for longer, which has helped a lot. I can now (almost) consistently hold my breath for 1 minute and 10-20 seconds, and right now my goal is to hold it for 1 minute and 30-40 seconds consistently. I can also tread water for about 10-15 minutes depending on my energy level. I’m still kind of a slow swimmer, but I can go for longer periods without taking breaks, so that’s cool :)

[mamaspeckles]

I’ll be okay sweetheart ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you and thank you all for your concern and care, it really does make me feel so loved and special

We’ve already figured out who it was that sent me that message, amongst other messages that she’s sent. Her name’s Daisy and she was someone that I thought I could trust in my discord group chat. I feel betrayed and hurt if I’m being honest….but we’ve confronted her and to make a long story short? She’s doubled down about how she just got jealous because? “I was able to make a genuine connection with someone”? Which I don’t understand? I thought I had a real connection with her like I did with my other discord friends and like I did with you? A part of me feels disappointed with myself that I didn’t see this sooner. I feel like I could’ve helped her so she didn’t feel like she had to do this ☹️ A part of me feels guilty because she’s completely cut herself off from all of us and she’s just deleted all of her social media’s and I feel so anxious that I’ve caused all of this 😞

But I want to preface and really drill in that this has NOTHING to do with you!!!! She’s unfortunately always been a very jealous person. And it doesn’t bring me any joy to say this, but I think she’s always been very jealous of me in particular. I don’t think she’s ever really been a genuine person, and I feel stupid that I didn’t see this sooner. It’s made me feel more difficult to trust people…..but I trust you and very very much ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I’m so so sorry that because of me and my bullshit I’ve potentially brought on any stress and worries. This was the LAST thing that I wanted when I started sending little headcanons and stories, I just wanted to bring some comfort and happiness. But if you’re still okay with it, the Woman fanfic will be finished as soon as possible ❤️❤️❤️ I won’t stop unless you want me to ❤️❤️❤️

I'm really sorry you had to go through that, it sounds incredibly tough. But please don't blame yourself for Daisy's actions. You're such a kind and genuine person, and it's clear how much you care about your friends and making others happy including me. I appreciate everything you do and send me, and I want you to know that I support you fully💋. And if it ever came to it, I'd absolutely stand by your side and literally bitch fight Daisy for you idc😩 Remember, you're not responsible for Daisy's actions or how she chose to handle her jealousy she is toxic and doesn’t deserve anything nice until she learns how to grow up. please don't let her actions shake your trust in others. You have a genuine connection with so many people, including me, and that's something special.❤️ I admire your resilience and your determination to continue spreading happiness despite the challenges you're facing. Keep being the amazing person you are, and know that I'm here to support you through it all.💕 I will also keep on repeating what I been saying and that is “ I never felt uncomfortable or harassed by gramma and absolutely love and even feel flustered when she sends me stories! I love gramma and gramma loves me!”

And If it ever comes the day I find this putas burras Tumblr page i will faça-a sentir o que ela fez você se sentir e faça-a chorar como um bebê grande. No one messes with gramma or anyone that I care about. Go get some form of help Daisy. Ya clearly need it. If you were that jealous and butt hurt ya could’ve said it on call to grammas face instead of like I said using a anonymous proxy you coward. I am sick of seeing people like you hurt kind and funny souls like gramma. I won’t be more controlled with my words if this happens again. Count your days cadela.

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

[womanlives]

“IF I HAD A FUCKIN’ SILVER — ” a flash of that self-same word as Mercy dances a coin across the backs of her knuckles “ — for every time I got to see a bad bitch sit on the throne of the fucker who wronged her — “

Flick, toss! Flip, catch. Mercy holds it up to the moonlight that filters through a crack in the ceiling of Moonrise Towers. Or what remains of it. She grins. It’s pretty, even though it shouldn’t be.

“ — I’d have two silvers. Which isn’t a lot, but.” A shrug. “Kinda weird it’s happened twice.” The silence that creeps in after feels sacrilegious. Just like the drow woman, curled back on Ketheric’s uncomfortable-ass throne, feels sacrilegious. Mercy likes that. Mercy invites that. She’s sick to death of this place. This tower, this cult, this underground trial-temple, this cursed land, all of it. Myrkul, and Bane, and whoever the last motherfucker is. Shar.

All of it.

“Anyway.” Mercy rubs her face. It’s perfect-looking, but her fingers come away grimy anyway. Her eyes meet Minthara’s, search for something they’ll not even sure how to find, and narrow. She pockets the coin, sighs. Drops down to her knees in front of the throne, and takes a seat on the cold, blood-stained floor. She’s not kneeling. They both know it. For once there are no gods in this room. They have gone, and taken with them everything, and left nothing but spite and betrayal behind.

That’s okay. Mercy can’t speak so much for betrayal, but spite is very resilient.

She plants her hands on the rubble and leans back. Her head tilts. “Y’know,” she says conversationally, casually, as if it hasn’t been scant hours since the fight for their lives, “I thought we’d fight more — more — fuck. Wait.” A pause; she runs her tongue over her upper lip, thinking. But she’s too damn tired and it doesn’t matter. Fuck it. The illusion flickers and drops. There she sits in all her glory, highlighted by a solitary moonbeam: hair half-burned off, dozens of cuts, nails dirtied and split. There’s a bite mark on the underside of her jaw where a necromite tried to get her. It’s hard to tell where her makeup ends and the dirt begins. She points.

“You don’t just fight like you got people to kill. You still fight like you got something to lose.”

Her hand drops back to the dirt. Muscles hurt. Too tired.

“Gods, I’m jealous. I’d ask, but you’re just gonna tell me to go fuck myself, aren’t you?” A guess? A prophecy? A dare? Hard to tell. For once it comes out so damn compassionate.

@n1ghtwarden gets khajiits wares

[testajuliejane]

20 Something Woes

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how common it is for people in their late 20s, like myself, and early 30s, to feel overwhelmed by criticisms. I often wonder: am I too reactive, or maybe even overreacting, when people criticize me? One memory that stands out is when I was maligned and slandered by a coworker, someone much older, who seemed to take a particular disliking to me. She was a middle-aged, single woman, and for some reasons including a very low emotional intelligence, low self-esteem, and extreme insecurities, treated me with disdain when I was just starting out at 23.

That hateful, envious spirit propagated among the members of her like-minded circle. Before long, the jealous sentiments of other disgruntled co-workers began to surface, each expressing their own frustrations in countless undesirable ways like maligning and ostracizing me, or attempting to block any learning opportunities for me. And it appears that they do these things probably for these reasons: not having lived their best lives in their 20s, feeling threatened by outdated or insufficient credentials, fearing that their younger counterparts are more equipped, living with regret, worrying that their children may not fulfill the dreams they once had for themselves, or dealing with a troubled family life.

Looking back, it felt like my age and potential success made people uncomfortable, especially those older than me. There seemed to be a fear that I might achieve something they hadn’t. It wasn't just my perception—many of my peers, especially those who perform at a high level, have shared the same sentiments and similar experiences in their respective workplace. It’s strange to think that my accomplishments, like graduating cum laude and earning the highest licensure exam rating among my coworkers, would make me a target, even though I’ve always tried to stay low-key. I never bragged about anything nor paraded any of my achievements. In fact, those are things of the past -- something that no longer weighs heavily in my present life. But ironically, my quiet nature, my tendency to stay reserved, has also been a point of criticism, as if my silence is something people don’t know how to handle. The more I tried to stay private, the more they craved for information as if I am more than worthy of their energy and attention.

These people even dig relentlessly into my personal life and personal whereabouts when I take vacation leaves and eavesdrop through private conversations, making me even more cautious with what I share. (If one of those people came across this page and this particular post, Wow! That person has a different level of obsession that he/she even found his/her way here. Whew!)

🎶...you wanna piece of me...🎶

But, what can I be grateful for in all this?

Despite the negativity, these experiences have taught me valuable lessons. I’ve learned to stay resilient, to keep striving for excellence despite the noise around me. Perhaps, some people in this life stage have to go through this phase. These are character-refining situations. The criticisms have forced me to reflect, to grow, and ultimately, to practice humility. These experiences give me an opportunity to be forgiving and to show love as Jesus commands me as a Christian to love my enemies. It's difficult to do these things but my situation provides me an avenue to practice this radical approach of Christianity in dealing with earthly life. I’m learning that I don’t have to react to every unkind word, that being misunderstood or criticized doesn’t diminish my worth or potential. I can be grateful that these challenges are shaping my character and helping me to become more compassionate toward others who face similar struggles and even toward my offenders who may be going through silent struggles. It has been said, "Hurt people hurt people." But as a healed child of God, I can be a person who could bring healing. After all, we all need grace. In this situation, I am being trained to trust in God's protection and to trust that He will fight my battles on my behalf. I am also learning the principle of The Audience of One -- to only seek the approval of my God Who is my Ultimate Master. I am being grounded in my identity as a Child of God the Most High. I am grateful that I have never been the same. Above all, these experiences remind me to keep my eyes on the bigger picture—my purpose, my growth, and my faith.

[put-it-somewhere]

"i hate myself"

The unlearning of compulsively referring to myself as insecure or self hating has been a reluctant undertaking in sobriety. For many of  those who share my experiences and diagnoses, it is not uncommon that the notion of no longer hating oneself is vastly more uncomfortable than assuming you still do. I, like many others, found consistency and comfort in general suffering, it was familiar to me emotionally. Finding that you may not truly hate yourself as you once so certainly did comes with a kind of existential loss, there are many people who would prefer to go on suffering than admit to change. I hate myself can feel like a weird gritty badge of honor, I say “feel,” because the statement is almost never perceived by the listener as it is by the speaker. It suggests cynicism, which somebody out there is associating with intelligence, it feigns self awareness that the speaker assumes is interpreted as wise and resilient. This partial grab at superiority and respect is shadowed by the statement’s primary result; pity. To the person stating “I hate myself,” it is likely true that they’ll express that they don't actually want pity, that they’re simply brave enough to be real. What they don’t realize is that the pity response varies; sure, plenty of people feel sorry for the individual sad enough to feel so negatively about themself, but a whole other plenty feel sorry for the individual sad enough to repeat the phrase as a desperate flag for attention. Once I became aware of the latter, however familiar the idea of hating myself was, I could no longer feel that believing it was still in style. This isn’t my description of a white light moment, the realization comes after the action. I went to meetings, rehab, work, and I engaged in my life of my own volition in a way that sought to improve and preserve it. Maybe I wasn’t exactly keeping track of it at the time, but my efforts were not working towards hating myself further. It can be upsetting to admit that those all consuming and seemingly life defining years of endured sadness and pain have come to a momentary end, at least constant suffering is constant something. Entering the ups and downs of relative normalcy appears alien and unpredictable, you’re ever suspicious of the highs and you’re overly accommodating of the lows. I made decisions to change and improve my life out of desperation, it felt almost too sudden to see that newness was there, and many people squirm and bolt at the realization. Particularly in the case of eating disorders, people who have spent periods of their life in a delirious fixation with their body, almost always built around the idea of I hate my body, their loss of their self perception extends beyond the mental and into the physical. Standards of beauty and how one is expected to navigate it multiply from every angle, but I won’t be getting into the socialization and gender specifics. One thing we are made to understand is the undesirable nature of “vanity.” Narcissism is used loosely, and the idea of self confidence or self love is beside it on a blurred fine line. No longer hating myself for my identity and personality was not met with the same intense shame in feeling overly self obsessed that not hating my appearance was. You’re just not supposed to think you’re the shit, that’s what it boils down to. But, no longer interested in claiming I still truly dislike my appearance, I’ll selectively state, on occasion; “I’m physically attractive.” I don’t need to get down to the details each time, I don’t need to cite catcalls and pickups and whispers, I can log my external data and every once in a while I can share my analysis.  Because I do think I’m attractive, and while I can feel the shame in my shoulders when I say it, I know I’m not using it to hurt anyone, so why the fuck should it matter?

[unwanteddiaryofpallas]

Puke

I wanna throw up and spill all my guts out then stare at it as I feel myself succumbing to nothing.

Why so vulgar you ask? I’m not sure either. I’ve always been attached to things that push the limits of society, for good or for worse. I grew up exposed to uncomfortable and disgusting things—to which the adults will blame me for. Yes, ‘cause 6 year old me knew that torture was a bad thing! Definitely not normal to me ‘cause my own mom would hit me! Of course it is my fault.

I hate spilling my guts. I have no medium to do it to. You can argue writing, but god is it unhelpful. My thoughts grow more and more violent towards myself as I type.

I’m tired of living off of depression. God, “normal” people have it easy.

If I had a kid, I don’t want them to feel different. If they do, I’ll say that there are also other kids who feel different, but doesn’t mean they’re bad. Or something like that. I’ll work on it. I’ll work on me until I can raise child and be satisfied about it.

My brain is mush. I don’t wanna think. My fingers are doing all the work. Drawn to a letter and to another.

I wrote something after a reel my friend sent. A writing challenge it was. Here it is:

“Madness is a state past broken—madness is I / I am beneath all, when I stare down at an audience / For I am a spectacle and an object to be watched / Even when I shine, i am but a diamond around somebody’s finger / I am madness because I can no longer be saved”

Reading back to it, it makes no sense, but oh well.

It’s hard being randomly sad. Many people I know want a reason to be sad. They are the also the very same people that need to hear a reason when somebody else is sad. It’s dumb. You can’t be sad without reason according to people who either don’t have to deal with episodes AND people who are the same but lacked a support system. I feel sadder now.

Life’s hard. No one can say it’s easy. It’s always at a scale of difficulty. People can only have it least difficult and not easy, because why are we a species that advanced through perseverance, resilience and curiosity if some of us live in easy mode? It’s like creative mode in Minecraft, there are no achievements if it’s played easily. But of course, extreme hardship is also not a good thing.

I wish somebody will change the world. More understanding, kind, accepting, smart (not cunning) and passionate. Like world world, not like (disclaimer: these things are GOOD, just showcasing what I DIDN’T mean) raising awareness, donating needs and goods, and homing those who need it.

Anyway, I’m gonna puke. I haven’t eaten well. I only eat well outside, but that’s thanks to my lover. Otherwise, I’d be dead by starvation lol. Maybe life will be kinder, when nothing matters and I’ve dissipated. But I have hope. I want to have more hope. So I can finally not be whatever I am right now.

I need to puke 💀💀

[asteroidpuppy]

I have finally curated the perfect “list” to guide my own behavior with. Here are some recently developed personal rules, observations, and revelations:

• It is okay to express myself even if I’m feeling wonky because expression is literally to show what’s inside and if you’re wonky on the inside then the outside better match..

• Remember comfort exists in this reality. Hot brewed tea, coziness, my cat, friendship, the sky, feeling cold, reading something immersive, exploring all day. It’s okay to take your time. Most conversations are starting to unfortunately feel AI coded with only dialogues from vreakup movie?s???

• I think I am psychic, but I think I am paranoid. Really, usually, I “know” both of them to be true… simultaneously?

• I do feel a special calling, but I also feel sorry for myself too often. I will only advance if I can improve my confidence

• No more feeling sorry for myself! I got through so much and now I want to act like a kicked puppy when one little thing doesn’t go my way. Perfectionism has been really suffocating me. Nothing will ever be perfect and life is about learning

• I am addicted to social media and I want to get off of it. All of it. I’m thinking of what I would miss and it’s not much. I’m thinking of negative side effects and there really don’t seem to be any. It’s really time to spend time with myself, besides I have friends to hang out with in real life! I think one huge thing stopping me is that I want to eventually post my art but there’s no reason I couldn’t come back just to post my art.

• If I can exercise self-discipline throughout each small fork in the road consistently then everything about myself is in the palm of my own hand.

• Small things to feel more comfortable as myself:

- Develop a strict morning routine including hydration, exercise, hygiene, dressing, reading. IN THAT ORDER!

- Clothes not worn more than twice, clothes always clean and organized, bedclothes always clean.

- Cleans up after self as the mess is made

- Back to smudgy sinkhole eyes and constant beanie

- Read books, watch movies, draw, exercise, explore, play, do puzzles, research something new. Don’t waste your life on social media because you WILL regret it

- Wear one each small piece of jewlery on each body

- Do heavy research again on things like theology, physics, neuroscience, anthropology, astronomy, sociology, etc.

• RELAX. Do things because you WANT TO. Nobody is forcing you to do shit, every single thing you do is a separate choice made by YOU. Nobody else can decide for you.

• I am my own ghost possessing my body. When my mother tried to kill me at age 11, I did start to die. I felt myself “let go” but I never passed and have since been uncomfortably familiar with the feeling of death. Even before that, I was obsessed with the concept. When I was saved, I got dragged back into myself like a garbage disposal. Since then I have been operating it poorly, like a trade bus driver trying to pilot an airplane. I already transcended from human to ghost before I re-entered my vessel. No amount of exorcism will solve this because I am the rightful owner of this vessel, although this transformation did permanently kill the essence of my own humanity. It is the true origin of my “psychic” abilities and This explains most of my health issues, my aversion to the regular processes of the body (i.e. sleeping, peeing, eating, drinking water, seeking safety) which also demonstrates my resilience in the face of neglect.

[healinghoneybee]

No shit I never thought of that... This is surviving

Tonight I am feeling so much compassion for the people that struggle to do things they logically know they “should” do. Someone told me to just forget it and move on. It’s like Biiiiitch you don’t think I tried that? You think I want to be breaking my no contact once again to ask why you couldn’t just apologize for hurting me and letting me down? You think I want to be hurting over you and want to feel insecure again? I go to therapy, take courses on healing from heartbreak, do the innerchild work, do yoga, do the breathing, talk to my inner parts, read the self-help books listen to the podcasts, try to make the to do lists to practice what I learn, ALL THE SHIT. I took off work to focus on self-care. What more do you want from me. If you only saw how hard I am trying to heal from my past. If you could be in my shoes for 2 seconds and know why and that my body and mind sometimes WON’T LET ME do the things I logically know I need to do. The issues are in our tissues, Bitch. I am trying to get it out of me and relax my nervous system. I meditate that I am safe. I have SO MUCH compassion for those that can’t “just move on” or do the healthy coping mechanism. I was told I had “post traumatic stress” symptoms 9 years ago. If only you knew how hard I try to heal. I’ve been trying for 9 years. Lately I don’t have the energy to constantly be resilient and put together. Sometimes I just fall apart or I send the message (maybe problematic but maybe expressing my truth of what I need to say and was unresolved, I don’t trust your opinion). Lately I am a mess sometimes because I am healing from scars and sometimes I fail. Or maybe it’s not failing because apparently my counsellor says the sticky feelings are getting worked out and to be grateful for the uncomfortable release. I hope so. I know this moment of struggle doesn’t represent all that I am. I was doing so well until I got pushed back to survival mode. I know I am more than this flare-up of symptoms or my emotions. And guess what? I’m gonna have compassion for you if you ever fall apart like a granola bar, cause I been there. And I also have so much empathy and compassion and love and care from my experience and that love will be a gift to someone someday and to my friends already. I will keep trying to heal and I won’t give up and I WILL SURVIVE. I will get back to how powerful I felt last summer and make it out of the tunnel inch by goddamn inch and the light at the end will be even BRIGHTER than I can imagine. I believe in the gifts this will bring. I will feel powerful on my own again. Or find a balance and chillness with someone that brings out my softness. I deserve love that is healing, that I don’t have to work so hard to heal from. You don’t know what this experience is like, so don’t judge me on how long it takes. I have one life to live and I won’t let them have it and I may mess up a lot but God knows I am trying. I have a lot to unlearn from being socialized and trained as a woman to doubt myself and feel like I am too much or not enough no matter what I do. But I believe in my best self. I am forced to learn self-compassion and patience and self-acceptance and self forgiveness and love for myself despite all odds because if I didn’t I would not fucking be here. I am resilient. I am trying. So don’t say some condescending one-liner about what I need to do. I’ve probably fucking thought of it. I probably was hard on myself for failing to do it and worked to forgive myself and now I need to be gentle to myself. I’ve learned to be gentle to myself and others. But when I’m backed into a corned I might mess up and lash out or get harsh but I come back to the lesson of my anger and the importance of being gentle and I try again and I apologize. It’s not my fault you could not apologize so we could not have a better ending. I tried to repair it but it felt like you invalidated and dismissed my pain and didn’t take accountability for your action that did hurt me and did the thing that would trigger the second wound of re-victimization, which is real and the truth and is a big part of why I am still struggling. But that was not inevitable. I believe I can heal with the right words, the right community, the right actions and kindness and time and my own love. I messed up and reached out and I couldn’t fall asleep, so what. If you don’t want to be friends, I hear that now and I will start no contact and try again tomorrow when the sun comes up. Society can take its victim-blaming judgement and not-so-generous view of me/my actions and know-it-all toxic positivity and shove it right up your ass. I am not victimizing myself like you implied - I am not a victim. I don’t make myself into one and you can’t make me into one. I am a survivor and this is surviving.