#when doing schoolwork or even stuff at my job i will find myself mentally talking to him about all the cool thoughts n ideas im having

[cavswife]

talking about Darling because he's heavily on my mind lately. my insert for him isn't a scientist ( at least not anymore <:)c ), but in my actual real life work and education where I am doing science stuff, I loveeeee to imagine us mutually infodumping to each other during our work <3 I think he'd really enjoy having someone equally enthusiastic n' eccentric to gush with, even if my field is biology focused and his is physics based. whether it be me fascinated by a new mutation in a bird species or him enamored with the latest breakthroughs in how time loops theoretically work, we could probably go all night just excitedly discussing our research and the world around us :) something something in every life I guess extra applies to us <3

[storiesforallfandoms]

just hold me ~ yungblud

word count: 2206

request?: yes!

“Could you write a fluffy yungblud fic? Like maybe the reader has been going through a tough mental health time, and he helps? 🖤” 

description: after a week that is mentally trying, all she wants is for her boyfriend to hold her

pairing: yungblud x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

You know those weeks that just absolutely kick your ass? The ones that absolutely nothing is going right and it feels like nothing will ever go right?

Yeah, that was my week.

It started off by realizing that one of my assignments that I thought I had so much time to do was due that day, and I wasn’t even close to being finished. I tried to give my professor some bullshit reason to get an extension but she wouldn’t hear of it, and because I even tried to get an extension she told me she wouldn’t even take it late and marked the assignment as a zero. Then I got my schedule for work and found that they were starting to take shifts away from me. So many, in fact, that I’d be lucky if I was able to make rent and bills. Besides all of that, school was just kicking my ass in general. I was starting to fall behind in my classes but I was feeling so down about everything lately that I felt as though I couldn’t sit still to do any of my schoolwork.

I found myself hitting my breaking point after a particularly rough day at work. Customers were being more rude than usual and I had been run off my feet the entire day. I was clocking out for the day when my manager pulled me aside to talk to me.

“A customer complained about you,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft as she spoke. I knew my manager liked me enough, but she had this way of talking that always made her sound like she was angry.

“What?” I said. “When? For what?”

“Shortly before you clocked out. They were demanding to see the manager, so Julie came and got me and brought me to their table. They said you were being very rude to them and refused to serve them, and that you made Julie do it instead.”

I could not believe this.

I knew exactly what table my manager was talking about of course. It was a table of four - a man, a woman, and two teenaged looking kids. They were supposed to be my last table of the day before I was cut. I had only been there for maybe ten minutes before they started demanding a new server instead of me. They were asking me questions that I wasn’t too sure of about the food on the menu, and when I told them I could ask the kitchen so I could give them a proper answer, the man freaked at me and called me all sorts of awful names. He told me I was incompetent and he didn’t understand why the restaurant would hire someone who didn’t even know the “simplest of answers to simple questions”.

His poor kids looked so awkward over it. His wife basically ignored the whole situation and continued to look at her menu.

I had tried to remain as cool as I could but I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. I asked again if he wanted me to ask the kitchen about the questions he had, and he responded, “No, I want you to get me a server who can actually do their job.”

I got Julie, who had been working at the restaurant for roughly two years. I explained the situation to her and she told me I could get ready to clock out if I wanted to.

I guess between doing exactly what I was told by that rude table and finally getting the clock out, he had complained about me to Julie and to my manager and made up some stupid story to get me in trouble.

“Oh my God,” I sighed. “I swear to you, that is not the truth at all.”

“I know it’s not,” she assured me. ���When Julie came to get me she explained the whole situation. Even if she didn’t, I’d know they were lying. You’re too nice and too kind to be rude to even an asshole table like them.�� She sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. “But that gentleman was so furious that he demanded some kind of actions be taken. I told him nothing could be done besides maybe a note being put on your professional record.”

I didn’t understand what she was telling me at first, but when it dawned on me my heart fell to my stomach.

“No, no you can’t,” I said, trying to keep back the tears that starting to run down my face. “I wasn’t even rude to them, you can’t write me up for something I didn’t do.”

“And I’ll make a note of that in the write up,” she told me. “But for now it’s all I can do. You had a customer complain about you, it’s our company policy that we give employees write ups when we feel it’s the right thing to do.”

So she thinks it’s the right thing to to permanently stain your professional record, and to push you one step closer to being fired.

Before anything else could be said, I raced out of the doors into the parking lot. I covered my mouth to stifle my sobs until I got to my car. Once I was there, I placed my head against the steering wheel and began to sob.

I was there for at least 20 minutes because I didn’t trust myself to drive yet. I could barley calm myself down, but eventually I just wanted to leave. I didn’t want to risk seeing the asshole and his family leaving the restaurant, and frankly, I just didn’t want to be there anymore.

I started driving towards my apartment, but as my sobbing and shaking began again, I realized I didn’t want to be alone then. I came to a red light and quickly shot my boyfriend, Dom, a text asking him if it was alright if I went to his place instead.

His response came almost immediately. “Of course it’s alright baby! You don’t have to ask!”

I arrived shortly after and let myself in with the key he had given me. I threw my work stuff onto the floor, knowing I would feel guilty about it once I had completely calmed down. I made my way to Dom’s room where I knew he would be. As usual when he wasn’t recording or touring, he was sat on his bed watching Netflix. He turned to greet me with a smile, only for his smile to drop when he saw my face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, starting to get up from the bed.

I shook my head and held a hand out, stopping him from getting up. As he laid back down, I took off the hoodie I had been wearing and my work jeans, which were now basically stuck to me with sweat, leaving me in just my t-shirt and my underwear. I climbed onto Dom’s bed and rested my head on his chest.

“Just hold me,” I said. “Please.”

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I began to sob yet again, thinking over all the bad that had happened to me this week. I felt so tired, both mentally and physically, and I just wished there was a way to take a break from it all.

Dom ran his hands up and down my body, trying to soothe me into some form of calm. Eventually, my exhaustion got the best of me and I fell asleep in Dom’s arms.

~~~~~~

Some time later, I woke up alone under the covers of Dom’s bed. I rolled over to look for my phone to check the time, only to find that it was nowhere to be found. It was dark outside, which meant it was still nighttime, and yet Dom wasn’t asleep next to me.

I was still in my t-shirt and underwear from when I had arrived to Dom’s, so the day before, unfortunately, wasn’t a dream.

I heard some sounds coming from the bathroom and got up to see if that’s where Dom had gone. Sure enough, I found my boyfriend knelt next to the bathtub, filling it with water so hot that I could see the steam coming from it.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

He seemed startled when I spoke, and turned to look at me. “Oh no, I wanted to wake you when I had the bath ready for you.”

“Well, I’m glad I caught you, because that water looks way too hot,” I teased and reached around him to turn down the hot water and turn up the cold instead. “Why are you running me a bath at like...I don’t know, kinda late at night? And where’s my phone?”

“I have it with mine,” he responded. “Which is in a hidden spot, because you need to take a break from your phone.”

I couldn’t argue with him there. “What’s up with the bath then?”

“You always say that a hot bath helps you to relax after a hard day,” Dom explained. “And obviously today was a hard day, so I’m running you this bath and I have that gold bath bomb you like so much.”

“When did you get that? I haven’t left any bath bombs here in a while.”

“I bought it in case of emergencies.”

I smiled at Dom and sat on the toilet seat lid to watch as he finished filling the bathtub. He had me test the water before pulling me to a stand and helping to take off my clothes. Even though it wasn’t meant to be in a sexual manner, there was something extremely intimate about Dom pulling my shirt over my head and my panties down my legs.

I got into the water and sighed as my body sank down till the only thing not underwater was my neck. Dom got the gold bath bomb from under the sink and gave me the honors of dropping it into the water as that was my favorite part of bath bombs.

“Are you joining me?” I asked.

He smiled cheekily and began to undress. “That was my original plan, but I decided to wait and see if you wanted me to join.”

I sat forward, giving him room to slip into the tub behind me. Once he had settled himself, I leaned back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and began kissing my neck and shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as his lips continued to trail over whatever bare skin he could reach.

I sighed. “Not really, but I guess the only way to work past it is to talk about it.”

I told him everything; about school, about work, about the asshole customer that fucked me over. He listened for however long I talked without interrupting. Once it was clear that I had finished talking, he spoke.

“That guy is a fuckin wanker,” he said. “I can’t believe people like that exist. You were just trying to do your job and he fucked you over like that.”

“It happens,” I said. “Hasn’t happened to me before today, but all my co-workers have stories of assholes who will complain to the manager for the littlest of things. We had someone complain once because their food didn’t look like it did in the picture on the menu and they wanted it for free. That’s usually all people want - free food.”

“I can’t believe your manager is going along with that,” he said. “Even if she makes a note that you did nothing wrong, that’s still looking bad on you.”

“I think they want to fire me,” I admitted. “That’s the only reason they would be giving me less shifts. They want to slowly get rid of me before they straight up fire me.”

“I don’t think they’ll do that, babe.”

“I think they will. I’ve probably done one too many things wrong and now it’s my time to get the boot. It happens so often that whenever someone gets a few less shifts a week we panic.”

Dom squeezed me a moment before kissing me behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Well, if they want to fire you then we’ll look for a new job. You don’t have to stay there and take shit from assholes and let your managers treat you like dirt to keep the assholes happy. There’s hundreds of restaurants you could work at instead.”

For some reason, this thought hadn’t occurred to me.

“I’d like that,” I said. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? I’m starting to relax, I don’t want to get worked up again.”

“Okay, baby.”

We were silent for a moment, just the sounds of the water shifting around us filling the room. I leaned my head back enough that I could look up at Dom. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For...for being you.”

He smiled at me and kissed my head. “Thank you for being you, too.”

I smiled and settled myself against him again, allowing myself to finally relax for the first time all week.

[myhoneststudyblr]

I often get asked for tips on various aspects of creating a studyblr and then how to grow it! It can be really daunting before you start if you don’t know how to go about it or what to post - I remember really wanting to create one for months before I actually built up the courage to make one.

This post is hopefully going to make this easier for you and give you the tips you need to get the best out of your blog!

Disclaimer: this is quite long! i wanted to make it as detailed as possible and it kinda got away from me XD

What is a studyblr?

study + tumblr = studyblr

A studyblr is a tumblr blog that posts anything associated with studying.

These blogs are part of the ‘studyblr community’, which is an online community of students who share their love for studying, stationery and their current lessons and study tips.

Why should you create a studyblr?

There are honestly so many reasons why i think that studyblrs are an amazing thing and why i can’t see myself leaving this community any time soon! here are some of my personal experiences:

1. i want to study! i have always been a very conscientious student and i have always worked very hard but i’m going to be completely honest with you and say that a lot of the time, particularly as i’ve been getting older, it has been a real struggle to get the motivation to do work. since i’ve started my studyblr, i’ve noticed a real increase in my desire to work because i want to have new things to post and talk about. it acts as a sort of outside external motivator!

2. my studying has got more interesting! when i say this, i don't mean the content. i’ve learnt so many new techniques and ways to organise my work that each set of notes that i do is different and i don’t feel like i’m doing the same thing every day!

3. my notes and handwriting have got neater! if you follow me, you might have seen a post from me a while back where i talked about my insecurity about my handwriting because i was *always* the person with the messy handwriting™. unfortunately, i am a perfectionist and i really wanted to have neat handwriting and notes. so my studyblr - because i wanted my posts to look good - made me spend more time focusing on the appearance of my notes and forcing me to slow down (this had been my main problem). now i can see a huge difference and i’ve reached a place where, even though my handwriting will never be the perfect font-like handwriting, it is noticeably neater and more consistent and i now love my pretty and unique handwriting

4. incredible advice about everything studying related! no matter where you are from, or what you study, it is possible to find advice about something that is relevant to you! people in studyblr are going through or have gone through everything you have and they give incredible advice on some many different things, from college applications and how to study a certain subject, to book recommendations and notetaking tips. but there are also plenty of tips on lifestyle and self-care, which are invaluable. even if you can’t find a post that helps you, you can always send someone an ask or a message and they’ll always try to help you out!

5. my mental health has got better and the community has helped me through so tough times! being a student today is hard and keeping your mental health in a good place can seem even harder. but i personally have found the studyblr community really helpful with this because i don’t feel so i alone. i know that there are so many mutuals and blogs that i follow that are going through similar things and i know i could always reach out to them for anything. i’ve also become less hard on myself and give myself significantly less impossible goals since i started studyblr

6. you will meet some incredible people. this was something that i wasn’t really expecting because when i started my blog i thought i would get 100 followers *max*. instead, i have been completely embraced by the community and have had some amazing conversations with people i know genuinely consider to be my friends. it is so easy to meet like-minded people who just want to support each other!

these are just the most important benefits that I've experienced with my own studyblr journey and there are so many more!!!

The 5 Basic First Steps

1. create a blog

if you are seeing this post i assume that you already have a blog! maybe you don't but luckily for you its very easy to create one. the main think you need to think about is whether you want to create a primary or secondary blog! you can find the differences between these here!

2. choose a URL/blog name

your username can be pretty much anything and can be a good way to show your personality, your likes or dislikes, or your goal for your studyblr! you can get really creative with your username and though most are, it doesn't have to be study/studyblr related.

here’s are some ideas that you could use when coming up with a username:

Your name or nickname

Favourite subject or your degree

Your dream job

Role models or fictional characters

Stationery

Brand names

Study utilities

Your favourite study snacks

COFFEE (this is very popular with many studyblrs... i wonder why?)

Your favourite animal

Basically, it can be anything! and don’t worry, if you decide later that you don’t like the name or you come up with soemthing better, you can always change it

3. choose a theme

this can seem like a very daunting task if you are completely new to tumblr but don’t worry! there are plenty of options and you can play around with this until you get what you want!

mobile theme: this is usually just changing the colours to fit with what you like and the mood of your blog

desktop theme: this is where it gets interesting! your desktop blog usually looks much more unique compared to mobile and you can add various different pages and really get it to look professional. there are so many different incredible themes that you can find that are free to use and can be customised slightly to fit your blog (there are also paid themes). you can also make your own theme (but i know nothing about this so i can’t really offer advice for that!)

4. find an avatar/icon

i personally think icons are really important because they can often be how people begin to recognise your blog when they see it on their dashboard and it can be a glimpse into what people expect

you can just use a normal picture for this: for example of your notes or something that relates to your URL or blog (eg a coffee cup)

however, you can also make your own from scratch! you can create your own icon using applications like Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Illustrator, Canva or Word/Pages. i personally used canva to make my icon (as well as all my banners for posts) and it is really easy to use and best of all is free! there are also people who have made icons for you to use (as long as you give credit) or will make them for you (sometimes for a small fee)

5. find some studyblrs to follow

this is probably the easiest step! if you know about studyblr, you probably already know a few blogs! just go through their blogs and see who they reblog or you can search through the #studyblr tag. i am also always happy to give recommendations of my favourites blogs (of which there are too many to count) or can try to recommend blogs that i know who study the same thing as you/are at the same level of study or are from the same country

Introduction Posts

i am a big believer in studyblr introduction posts! i think they are the best way to meet people when you are just starting and are the way that you get people to notice and interact with your blog.

what should you put in a studyblr introduction post?

your name or a nickname so people know what to call you

your pronouns

where you are from

your age

what you study

what level of study are you at (high school, uni etc.)

your hobbies and passions

why you made your studyblrs

what your goals are

tag some of your studyblr inspirations! (this is quite important because they will probably reblog the post and more people can discover your blog

these are just some suggestions and you don't have to include all of them if you are comfortable with sharing certain things!

if you want some examples of these posts, have a look through the #studyblr introduction tag! on my blog you can find that here!

What to Post

the beauty of studyblr is that you can pretty much post whatever you want and you will find a place in the community!

i love reblogging posts that come on my dashboard that i love or stuff from my mutuals! however, it is also really important to post your own original content because this allows people to get to know you and is probably the best way to grow your blog!

here are some ideas for what to post:

pictures of your notes

pictures of your current book

pictures of your annotations

pictures of your desk/study space

pictures of your food/ study snack

pictures of your drink/coffee

pictures of your favourite cafe

pictures of nature

pictures of your handwriting

text posts about something funny that happened in school/class/uni/your life

text posts about what is going on in your life

text posts about what is on your mind

texts posts where you share your journey completing a particular goal

text posts where you share your plan for the day

study guides

advice posts

self-care and lifestyle tips

essentially, it is whatever you want and whatever works for you!

When to Post

you should post whenever works for you! i know for a lot of people (myself included) most of the time you do not have time to post every day because that is a big commitment and that is absolutely ok!

when i first started, i thought that i had to post every day and it was a lot fo pressure! it was basically impossible to keep up because not only was it taking up a decent amount of my evening editing and posting my notes but also i didn't actually have enough material available to post! a studyblr should never get in the way of your schoolwork so try to fit it around this! post when you have time!

if you do want to have a more consistent posting schedule, there is a feature that allows you to schedule posts! so, say you have a bunch of free time on the weekend, you could schedule all the posts for the week ahead of time!

i would also recommend building up a queue for reblogs because this means that you again have some consistency in posts and you have new stuff quite regularly! (i personally always have a huge queue)

How to Grow Your Studyblr

the main thing i want to stay is that you should not be too worried about how many followers you have or how many notes your posts get because it really is unpredictable! i’ve had posts that have got crazy amounts of notes and i literally expected them to get hardly any and vice versa! i have no idea how the tumblr algorithm works so you just have to try and post for yourself!

that said, i know that it is really nice to have people interact and appreciate your posts so here are 3 quick tips:

use popular studyblr tags. these include #studyblr, #notes, #studyspo. you could also tag the stationery that you used, what subject it is and what level you at are (eg #high school or #uni)

tag other studyblrs. many studyblrs track certain tags and if you want them to see what you've posted and they will often reblog your post! i personally track the tag #myhoneststudyblr. you can find a post i made a while ago with some studyblr’s and their tags here! (note: this may be slightly out of date)

try and have a relatively consistent ‘look’ to your posts. you don’t have to follow a specific aesthetic but having some consistency in your posts can help people recognise your stuff. i personally keep my pictures of my notes very clutter-free (often just the notes and the pen i used) and bright. however, you can definitely switch things up if you want!

How to Get Involved in the Community

There are so many different ways that you can do this! Here are some of the best ways in my opinion!

send asks and messages to people!

i highly recommend sending asks to people, for example, if they reblog an ask game post or even just asking for some advice because they will start to recognise you as someone who is engaged with their blog and you could also learn something new about one of your favourite studyblrs!

messages are also a great, slightly more personal, way to interact with people. it can be as simple as messaging people to tell them you love their blog, or again asking them for some advice. if they do a post about a test or exam that they have coming up, you could even message them good luck or ask how it went. i have had some amazing conversations with people through messages and it is a great way to meet new people

just a reminder: always be respectful and polite in messages and asks to ensure that the community remains positive

reblog posts with a comment on their posts!

(or just add a comment, although this could be confusing if your studyblr is a side blog so just be warned)

this is a really nice way to let people know you’ve seen their post and it is always nice to give feedback. a comment can be as simple as: i love your handwriting! or good luck in that test! but that simple message reaching out it so nice to get! also, reblogging is really helpful to blogs because it means more people see the post

join a challenge!

ok, so i’ve had this blog for about a year and a half now and i had a pretty decent amount of followers (which i seriously do not understand XD) but i never got the same amount of interaction and involvement in the studyblr community until i created my #2020 quarantine challenge (click here if you wanna find out about this). i would get reblogs and likes on posts but i don’t think that i used to get nearly as much interaction with my posts with people leaving comments and stuff. furthermore, although i had blogs where we were technically mutuals, i didn’t really have mutuals like i do know where we actively keep in touch and check out each other’s posts all the time and stuff and that is honestly the nicest thing

challenges mean that you are most likely posting every day (or at the very least pretty regularly if you cannot manage every day) and this is good because you post lots of new content for people to discover. another great thing is that there is usually a tag that you can search for and scroll through and find others who are doing the challenge alongside you. the person who created the challenge also probably checks the tag out every few days and reblogs the posts

for these reasons, i cannot highlight how amazing challenges are for interaction and getting involved in the community!

The Golden Rule of Studyblr

🚨 ALWAYS BE POLITE AND FRIENDLY 🚨

probably my favourite thing about the studyblr community - and i know many others share this opinion - is that is such a friendly and welcoming place. it of course has its problems but this is a place whose ultimate aim is to support each other through our studying journeys! we are all here because we wanted to find likeminded people who we can make friends with and share our lives! therefore it is really important that we always try and lift each other up because you never know what someone is going through

Summary

there are lots of benefits to starting a studyblr so you definitely should!

it’s good to make your blog look nice and clean!

studyblr introductions are very important to start your blog off!

post what you like when you like!

tagging can be a great way to grow your blog!

don't focus too much on the number of notes you get or how many followers you have!

send asks and messaging, reblogging and commenting on other people’s posts and joining challenges are all great ways to get involved in the community!

we are all here to support one another so always be polite and friendly!

Other Resources

From Me

here is an answer to an ask i received about starting a studyblr (here is another one)

here is an answer to an ask i received about editing photos

From others

A Beginner’s Guide to Starting a Studyblr by @eintsein​

12 Step Guide to Starting and Running a Studyblr by @emmastudies​

How to Start a Studyblr by @caffeineandcoding​

Advice for New Studyblrs by @studyquill​

Starting a Studygram by @studyrellablr​ (many of the tips are the same for studyblr)

I hope this was helpful to any new studyblrs and even existing ones! As always i am always happy to answer asks and messages about and give any advice! If anyone else has any tips or tricks, please add them below!!!

[jade-island-lives]

Update 7-21-22: Moving, School, and More

Well, howdy. It’s been a while since I’ve addressed you all directly, I hope it’s not too weird. ^^;

Truth be told, it’s been 2 very long and crazy months. Even now, I’m having a hard time processing it all. It’s almost too much, if I can be honest. 

Well, I might as well start with the good news I suppose. Some of you already know, but I now have a new 9 week old black lab puppy! Her name is Bailey, and she is a handful and a half, but I love her so very much! You can see pictures of her on my Instagram, merliarises.

That being said, it is chaotic raising a puppy, and still going to school. School has been more stressful than usual, this course I’m taking is rather intense and I’m working constantly. It’s good work, it’s work I want to be doing, but it’s still work and it’s tough. Especially when you’re running for 4 hours of sleep on a good night (Thank you Bailey ^^;)

Now, onto the tough stuff. This is the stuff I’ve been holding off on talking about. Mainly because I wanted to process it. But I’m not exactly sure if I have time to process it.

Well, this September, I will be moving to a completely different state. At least, that’s the plan right now. I don’t want to go into why, it’s mainly job stuff for a family member and we have to move. 

I am not dealing with this well. I have only ever lived in one state my entire life; I struggle to make friends in real life, and it’s going to be a completely different environment that I won’t be used to. 

Also, add to the fact that I am leaving behind my only friends, and as stated above, I have a hard time making friends. It may not seem like it, but I’m as awkward as they come in real life, and I struggle with putting myself out there.

Then there’s the fact that this move will be interfering with my schoolwork and writing schedule, and that’s a real pain. 

But I suppose it's not all that bad. A new location could inspire new stories, eventually help with my mental health, and there’s a whole new job market out there for when I finally earn my degree. Still, moving is a pain, a big looming pain that hangs over me like a shadow. 

That being said, I plan to return to therapy in New Mexico, provided I can find a good therapist. This move is going to be taxing on my mental health and I have a lot of unresolved issues. 

Oh, I also have a Twitter now. I had to get one for my classwork, and figured I may as well use it to retweet my writing. Give me a follow if you’d like.

I’ll keep you updated on the move across my social medias, so please keep an eye out, and thank you for being patient. <3 

[magical-agatha]

oh *remembers/realises i have enormous trauma about being objectified/fetishised and how im seen by ppl who aren't like me and that has a huge effect on how i interact with like, everything basically, and im probably gonna take years and years and years to get over that bc of how society treats ppl like me* im like. acutely aware of three different like, parts of me that are treated like a fetish by cishet men. things i love about myself. every time im reminded how those things are seen by certain ppl it makes me want to kill everyone who would ever dehumanise me and fetishise me for those traits. but it also makes me feel incredibly small and scared and broken. and reminders are hard to avoid online. especially with certain recent trends of like, slurs that ppl are using casually on tumblr. thats like a whole thing and i would rather not care but unfortunately it makes my life harder bc seeing another trans woman use the term dickgirl or tgirl to refer to trans women is like. very triggering. since those are like. terms created and widely used by ppl who see trans women only as sexual objects. the whole thing about like, reclaiming slurs and taking swords off oppressors vs using terms of oppression that not everyone is comfortable with. thats like a whole thing and its too much for me to think about rationally. cuz i just see those words and get triggered. and it makes my world smaller bc i gotta avoid ppl who use those words bc i gotta avoid getting triggered. and some times i use this website for a bit and see a lot of things that make me feel. bad. like maybe theres not room for me anymore in online spaces for trans women. bc those spaces are increasingly hostile to me in particular. it used to be just that ppl dont tag bdsm and talk about that stuff rly casually, which is hard for me bc its a huge trigger. and somehow even ppl i was friends with werent careful to tag that content even when i asked as carefully as i could. now its new things. i feel like im not welcome. like i dont rly have a place in the world. and thats very like, painful and just like. all around bad for ones mental health. theres a lot of other things in my life that make me feel like im not welcome in society. im fat and trans and disabled and a lesbian, and im very tall so all that stands out in a crowd. i couldn't get a job when i was still well enough to work. and now im rly struggling to find somewhere to live. i sometimes feel like the world wants me to give up and kill myself. bc im not welcome anywhere. theres no space for someone like me. i need too many accommodations and im too sick and too fragile. its rly hard to keep trying to find somewhere to live and not give up. but i know if i can find somewhere to move with my wife things will start getting better and easier for us. little by little. ive never rly ever been properly safe. theres always been some problem or danger in my life. abusive mother, school bullies, schoolwork i couldnt do bc i was sick, ppl at every job ive worked treated me badly, abusive girlfriends, etc etc etc. but once we find a home itll be different. we'll be able to rest and be safe. ill be safe properly for once in my life. and hopefully itll be worth all the hard work.

[nerdzzone]

Light After Dark: Chapter One

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

______________

April. 12. 2020

Stress.

Everyone was feeling it these days. Pandemics will do that to people. Especially when the world that everyone knew and loved had crumbled into an entirely different, almost unrecognizable version of itself.

Restaurants were closed. All stores that were deemed non-essential were shuttered. The streets were empty.

It was an odd kind of bittersweet. It was heartbreaking to see all the bustling cities turn into ghost towns, but it was good because it meant that people were listening. People were caring about their vulnerable friends and neighbours, their elderly grandparents, the health care workers who fought tirelessly to save those who needed their help. 

It was a necessary evil, but nevertheless it was odd to see and the uncertainty of how the future would unfold was anxiety inducing.

At first, I wanted as much news as possible. Staying informed of everything happening in every affected country gave me some comfort. It was as if it somehow gave me more control, but I quickly realized that wasn't the case. It gave me no clearer indication of how or when things would end or when some kind of normality would return. It left me overwhelmed and drowning in hypothetical worse case scenarios when really the truth was that no one had any idea. Even the experts couldn't say what would happen next. It was all just guess work and while some of it was educated, most of the articles were not and it was turning me into a nervous wreck.

So I decided to disconnect. I decided to trust that I would be informed when the number of cases dropped and the lockdown was lifted and trust that the process would not be sped up by me consuming as many statistics and projections as I could find.

Turning off was hard though. I wasn't one of the lucky few who could simply do their job from home, I had nothing to fill my days. I had also chosen to isolate with my parents in the lovely house they'd bought a few years earlier on the beautiful island of Jersey. In some ways this was a lucky choice as the risk was far lower than in London where I was living, but it was quaint and the lack of hustle and bustle made me feel even more restless.

Which was how I found myself out exploring the trails. 

My mother had kicked me out of the house when she caught me doing one of my niece’s art projects for her out of boredom. My niece hadn't wanted to do it anyway, so I didn't see the harm, but my mother had reminded me that she was seven and didn't get to just opt out of schoolwork if she wasn't in the mood. She then cited some article she'd found about how the government were still encouraging people who were feeling cooped up to go outside to exercise once a day and tossed me my shoes and bag before pushing me to the door.

I'd wandered sulkily at first, frustrated that at thirty I was in a situation that had my mother tossing me outside the way she did when we were kids and our endless energy was getting on her nerves. But I soon realized she was right. It was a beautiful island and I should appreciate the opportunity to explore it. So I found a map, picked a destination and then hiked for almost an hour until I'd reached the viewing point I was looking for.

I had to admit it was a beautiful view as I looked out over the ocean, sitting on the little bench I'd found, but the peace it brought was short-lived. I started wondering if I really should have sat down at all considering I had no idea who had been there before me. My legs were tired so I had figured it was worth the risk as long as I didn't touch anything, but was it really?

Sighing into the mask that covered my face, it struck me again how strange the world currently was. Two months ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about sitting on a public bench or worried what would happen if another group joined me in the little clearing I'd found, but now every stranger was a potential threat.

I quickly grew frustrated with my negative thoughts. The walk was supposed to get me out of my head and I was annoyed that I couldn't shake it, couldn't think of anything else except the stupid pandemic for even just a few minutes. The mask on my face suddenly felt suffocating and I just wanted to get home so I could rip it off.

Rising from the bench, I checked the time on my phone before tossing it back into my bag with a sigh and heading off down the trails. I was in a world of my own as I walked. Day dreams about how things would be now if none of this had ever happened filled my head and then, when the inescapable reality broke through my thoughts, I pondered what kind of new cocktail I could try when I got home to ease the pang of loss that seemed to constantly fill my stomach.

I was in the midst of drooling over a prosecco and elder flower concoction that I'd recently read a recipe for when suddenly it felt like I was hit by a truck.

I landed on the ground, flat on my back, fighting to breathe as the wind was knocked right out of me. My chest was tight and my vision was blurry as I felt a familiar panic rising in my chest. Did I bring my inhaler? Where was my bag? What had even happened?

As the thoughts raced through my mind, I could vaguely hear the sound of someone next to me.

"Are you alright?" They asked, their tone conveying a similar panic to the one I was feeling. "Shit, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

I nodded as the spasm in my chest subsided, but my weak lungs seemed to struggle to recover from the shock. I coughed into my mask as I forced myself to sit up, looking frantically for my bag and spotted it a few feet off to the side. My breath was coming out in short wheezes as I struggled to move closer to it, but the man was much faster. He thrust it into my arms, watching me like a worried puppy as I quickly dug through it.

Relief flooded through me as my hand wrapped around my inhaler and I quickly pulled down my mask as I pressed it against my lips. It took a few moments, but I felt myself calm down as the tightness began to subside and my body relaxed. It wasn't until I'd taken a few deep breaths that the man spoke again.

"Are you alright?" He repeated, clearly realizing I was in a much better position to actually give a response. "I'm so sorry."

I nodded as I finally took a good look at who I was talking to and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe again for an entirely different reason. He had a baseball hat pulled low on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity, but it didn't work as I realized I was face to face with Superman himself, Henry Cavill.

"Y-yeah, I'm, uh, I'm fine, thanks," I sputtered out. "What happened?"

Henry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he squatted next to where I was sitting on the dusty trail.

"I was running and I crashed into you," He admitted. "I wasn't paying attention and didn't see you around the corner."

"Oh," I nodded, still trying to come to terms with the situation. "I wasn't paying attention either to be fair. It's not your fault."

He pulled a face that made it clear that he didn't necessarily agree with that statement, but he didn't argue.

"Are you really alright?" He asked again, guilt written all over his face. "You fell really hard and then you weren't breathing. I thought I'd killed you."

I snorted a laugh, quickly covering my face as it turned into a cough.

"I'm okay," I insisted, my voice raspy. "And for the record I don't have that stupid virus either. I have asthma. I think I got winded when I fell and it triggered an attack."

"Shit," Henry rubbed his face nervously. "So I almost did kill you."

"Nah," I smiled, appreciating how genuinely bad he felt about the situation. "You can't be blamed for my broken lungs."

He chuckled and flashed me a smile before standing and holding out a hand for me. I took it happily, but once he'd pulled me to my feet another issue became apparent. As soon as I put weight on my left foot, I crumbled into Henry's arms, gasping in pain.

"Whoa, I got you," He soothed as he caught me. "What hurts?"

"My ankle," I groaned, shifting all my weight to my right foot and off of him.

Henry's brow furrowed in thought before his eyes widened like a little light bulb had gone off in his brain.

"There's a park nearby," He informed me. "Can I take you there and look it?"

I raised an eyebrow as I hopped slightly to keep my balance.

"I don't remember the Superman movie where Clark Kent went to medical school."

There was a brief flash of surprise on his face when he realized I knew who he was, but it disappeared almost instantly as he chuckled and shot me a smirk.

"I can't say that he did," He confirmed. "But as someone who had to stay in pretty decent shape for that role, I'm more familiar than I care to admit with sports injuries."

"I don't think being bowled over by a man with muscles bigger than my head counts as a sport," I matched his smirk. "But I would appreciate your opinion if you don't mind looking at it. It hurts quite badly and I'm clueless with this stuff."

"Of course," Henry nodded. "Ready?"

Before I could even answer, Henry had one arm tucked under the back of my knees and was holding me bridal style in his arms. I gasped quietly at suddenly being lifted off the ground, but my surprise quickly turned into awe at the ease with which he had picked me up and how he was now walking quickly down the trail as if I weighed nothing at all. It had been far too long since I'd been in a position this intimate with a man and my mouth suddenly felt dry as his biceps flexed under my back and I couldn't help, but imagine what they would look like if we were in other intimate positions.

Stopping those thoughts as fast as they appeared, I pulled my mask up to hide my reddening cheeks.

"We are definitely not six feet apart..."

My mumbled words were muffled even more by the mask covering my mouth, but the shake of Henry's shoulders as he chuckled and the wink that he shot me made it obvious that he'd heard me loud and clear.

****

"Alright, well, it's pretty swollen, but I don't think it's broken," Henry informed me as he sat on the bench of the picnic table he'd placed me on. He'd spent a few minutes wiggling my foot around, watching my response before announcing his opinion. "I think it's probably just twisted or sprained."

"There goes my dancing career." I sighed dramatically in an attempt to make it clear I was joking, but the slight drop of Henry's jaw and the guilt that riddled his face meant I'd missed the mark. "Kidding! I'm kidding. My lack of coordination killed that dream when I was a child. I'm a baker. Or rather, I was a baker."

Henry quirked an eyebrow at my change of phrasing.

"Decided on a career change?"

I looked down, wishing I hadn't brought it up in the first place. I was starting to accept the way things were, but it wasn't something I was eager to discuss just yet.

"I didn't get a chance to decide really," I started to explain, my voice suddenly coming out much meeker than it had before. "The pandemic kinda made the choice for me."

"Oh," Henry frowned. "Well, it can't go on forever. I'm sure they'll start letting places reopen by the summer."

"Not my place," I smiled half-heartedly in an attempt to hide some of the self-pity I was wallowing in. "I put all my eggs in one basket...A basket which the pandemic then threw off a cliff."

Henry chuckled at my explanation, but there was sympathy on his face.

"Is there no chance you could pick up where you left off?"

I sighed, but shook my head.

"I opened my own bakery in January," I admitted. "I barely had it up and running when the pandemic hit and with my asthma, I'm pretty vulnerable so I closed up shop as soon as things started heading south. I sunk all my savings into it though so I don't have enough to keep it a float. I was past the point of no return after only a few weeks of being shut."

Henry was quiet for a moment and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I realized that I'd massively overshared my problems with a stranger who was simply trying to make polite conversation. I opened my mouth to spout out some apologies when Henry cut me off.

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

His eyes met mine as he spoke and even though it was a simple sentence, it put me at ease. His eyes were warm and comforting and it was clear there was sincerity to his words. Not wanting to burden him too much though, I simply shrugged.

"It could be worse," I pointed out. "I'm healthy, my family are all healthy. People have lost a lot more to this virus than I have."

"Just because people have lost more, it doesn't make you loss insignificant."

I had heard his words before and I appreciated the sentiment, but it still felt hard to grieve for a lost business when an incomprehensible number of people were grieving for lost loved ones. 

"You sound like my therapist," I teased, feeling a strange warmth in my stomach when a smile slid onto his face. He really was very handsome. It was no wonder why women and men all around the world would kill to get this close to him. "Anyway, I should probably call my dad and see if he can pick me up. I don't think I'll be able to walk home."

Henry nodded and passed me my bag from where it was placed on the ground. He waited patiently as I made the call, arranging for my dad to meet me on the road I could see running past the park just up a small hill. Once it was all set up, I turned back to Henry.

"Thanks so much for all your help," I smiled. "I think I'll be okay for now though, you don't need to waste any more of your day."

"It's not a waste," Henry argued. "Besides, I still maintain this whole mess was my fault so it's the least I can do to help you up that hill when your dad arrives."

"You really don't need to," I insisted. "I can hop or crawl or something."

A laugh slipped from Henry's mouth as he shook his head.

"As entertaining as I'm sure that would be to watch, it wouldn't be very decent of me to let you struggle like that," He held firm, clearly not one to back down easily. "How about as a trade off for my assistance, you can give me your number?"

I snorted a laugh as I looked at him in disbelief.

"You want my number? Is that a joke?"

"No!" He grinned from ear to ear as he fished his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. "It's the least you can do after I gave you my expert medical advice."

"Wow, Mr. Cavill. Very smooth," I smiled, my cheeks heating up as I rattled off my number. He entered it in carefully before looking up at me again.

"Now, I just need a name to go with it."

"Oh! How rude of me." My blushed deepened when I realized I hadn't even introduced myself. "I'm Brooke."

"Brooke," Henry repeated as he typed it into his phone. "It's nice to meet you, Brooke."

"You too," I agreed before deciding it was time to to turn the attention back to him. "So, what brings international superstar, Henry Cavil, to the little island of Jersey?"

"It's my home," He informed me, a fond smile on his face. "I grew up here so when production got shut down due to the pandemic, I decided to come here to isolate with my family."

"What an amazing place to grow up," I said, my words dripping with envy. "You must have had the run of the island!"

"We did," Henry nodded with a chuckle. "I have four brothers so my mother always knew we'd keep each other safe and let us do what we pleased for the most part."

"Four brothers?" My jaw dropped slightly at the thought. "I have one sister and that was more than enough siblings for me."

"It was a lot," Henry agreed. "But it was nice. I love having a big family and we all went to boarding school so there wasn't five of us in the house together all the time."

"That makes it easier," I nodded. "Are you close?"

"Absolutely! I'm closest with my younger brother because we're only two years apart, but we're all quite good friends. We try to get everyone together at least once a year if our schedules permit it."

He grinned as he spoke and it was clear that he loved his family very much. I couldn't help, but return his smile.

"That's really nice."

"Are you close with your sister?"

"I am," I nodded. "It's part of the reason I'm here, I guess. My parents moved here a few years back and she decided to bring my niece here to isolate so they could help look after her. My brother-in-law is a paramedic so he knew things were getting bad long before the lockdown started and he felt it would be safer for her not to be in the house with him in case he gets exposed. My sister is working from home though so home-schooling Molly by herself while trying to do her own work would be tough. Since Jersey is obviously safer for me too with my asthma, I decided to tag along when they came over from London way back at the beginning of March so I can help my sister with Molly too."

I felt like I was rambling and oversharing again, but Henry's eyes were on me the entire time and he never once seemed disinterested. It was refreshing to meet someone who was actually interested in having a proper conversation.

"That sounds like a very sensible choice," He nodded when I was finished my explanation. "It must be hard for your niece to be separated from her dad so I'm sure she appreciates having you around. A couple of my brothers are in the military and I know when they've been deployed, the kids really struggle."

"She's doing better than I expected, but there's days when we can tell she's having a hard time," I admitted. "Are you just isolating with your parents?"

"No, no, we're doing a similar thing to you," Henry smiled. "One of my brothers was over visiting at the beginning of March during a school break so when there was talk of schools closing, they decided to just stay over here. So it's my parents and I, plus my brother, his wife and their three kids. Oh, and my big fluffy dog."

My whole face lit up at the mention of a dog before I could even control myself.

"You have a dog?!" I practically squealed, making Henry's shoulder shake as he chuckled. "Do you have pictures?"

"Of course!"

Henry picked up his phone from where he'd placed it on the table and quickly opened his camera roll. From where I was sitting, perched on the table above him, I could see dozens of pictures pop up on the screen, most of them of a big fluffy, black and white dog. He scrolled for a moment before tapping on one and turning the phone towards me.

"Awwwe," I cooed, looking at the big goofy grin on the dog's face. "What's his name?"

"Kal."

I stared at him for a moment, confusion written all over my face.

"You named your dog Cow?"

Henry tossed his head back laughing, shaking it slowly.

"No, not cow! Kal!" He emphasized the 'L' as he clarified. "As in Kal-El."

"Ooh, I get it," I giggled, realizing my mistake. "Wow, you're a nerd."

"I am," Henry chuckled, not fazed by my jab. "If you think naming my dog after Superman is bad, wait until you hear how I've been spending all this free time."

I wrinkled my nose in mock disgust.

"Let me guess...some video game like...World of Warcraft?"

Laughter once again erupted from Henry, making me laugh at the sight.

"No, surprisingly not," He shook his head. "Even though I did almost miss the call for Superman because I actually was playing World of Warcraft..."

"Oh my god, really?" I raised an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe someone who looked like him was into something that many people consider so uncool. He nodded in confirmation before I got us back the point. "I need to hear that story too, but what have you been doing with your free time then if not gaming? Lifting cars to keep those muscles in perfect condition?"

Now it was Henry's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Cars?" He questioned, but I simply shrugged in response. "No, not that. Well, I mean, I do spend a good portion of my day keeping fit, hence this fateful run, but what I was referring to is this..."

Henry flipped to a picture on his phone and showed me. I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking at so I took a guess.

"Painting figurines?"

"Pretty much," He nodded. "It's all tied in to gaming. They have a whole world and lore created about it."

I giggled and shook my head in mock disbelief.

"If only your fan-girls could see you now..."

"Oh, they love it," He smirked. "I posted the picture on my Instagram and apparently they find my nerdy side rather endearing."

"They're just blinded by your handsome face," I teased. "And your gentlemanly manners."

"Most likely," Henry agreed with a grin that filled me a warmth. "Speaking of, I think your dad has arrived."

I looked over my shoulder towards the road and spotted a man waving his arms.

"Yep," I nodded, shifting over to the edge of the picnic table. "Now, how are we going to do this? Can I hold your-"

Before I could finish my sentence, Henry had his arm tucked under my knees and lifted me up bridal style once again.

"Show off," I teased, reaching back to grab my bag from the table just before Henry started the walk up the hill. "I think you're just trying to impress me with your strength."

Henry glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Is it working?"

It was, but I shook my head.

"No, not at all," I lied. "If the tables were turned, I could carry you just as easily."

I was jostled slightly as Henry laughed at that bold statement.

"You're much stronger than you look then," He informed me as we got to the top. “Hold on to me now."

I listened to his instruction, keeping one arm draped around his shoulders as he lowered me to the ground, letting me lean my weight on him and off my left foot.

"Henry, what a pleasant surprise!" My dad greeted us, making me raise an eyebrow in suspicion of his rather familiar greeting of my new friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Unfortunately, I'm to blame for your daughter's injuries, Mr. Harris," Henry explained looking rather sheepish once again. "We collided on the path."

"It wasn't his fault," I insisted. "Neither of us were paying attention and he was kind enough to check me out after."

My dad glanced between the two of us, curiosity written all over his face.

"Check you out?"

My cheeks heated up as I realized how he'd chosen to interpret those words and I rolled my eyes.

"Check my ankle out," I clarified. "He says it's probably just sprained, but I can't put much weight on it."

"Well thank goodness Dr. Cavill was here to assist you," My dad teased, his smirk making me suddenly very aware that Henry still had his arm around my waist. "Your mother is worried sick though so we should probably get you home."

I nodded and hobbled towards the car with Henry's support. Once I was settled safely in my seat, I looked up at him.

"Thanks, Henry," I smiled. "I really appreciate your help."

"Anytime," He nodded. "Let me know when your ankle feels better, yeah?"

"Of course."

Before I could say anything else, my dad leaned over from the driver's seat.

"Can we drop you anywhere, Henry?"

"Oh, no, that's okay, thanks," Henry waved him off. "I should probably finish my run."

"Is that the safest plan?" I questioned, a smirk on my face. "Maybe you should get yourself a bell first so you don't mow down any more unsuspecting women..."

Henry fought back a smile as he feigned indignation.

"You never told me that your daughter was a comedian, Mr. Harris." He said to my dad as I giggled away at my own joke. 

"Yes, well, we try not to encourage her too much," My dad rolled his eyes. "Don't need her getting too big headed now, do we?"

I protested his comment as Henry laughed before we said a quick goodbye and he jogged off down the hill.

We drove in silence for a few moments before my dad looked over at me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," I assured him. "I fell pretty hard and obviously banged up my ankle, but it's definitely not broken so it'll heal."

"I'm glad to hear that," He nodded. Another silence settled between us before he spoke again. "Your mom's worried about you. She said you seemed down this morning and that you’re getting antsy."

I looked down at my hands, not wanting to delve into this conversation.

"Everyone's getting antsy," I shrugged, deciding I needed to quickly change the subject. "Anyway, why didn't you tell me that you knew Henry Cavill?"

"I don't really know him, but his parents live just down the street from us so I've met him once or twice," He explained. "I didn't know you were such a fan."

"Well, I'm not really," I admitted. "I'm not not a fan, but I don't know much of his work. He is rather...You know, he's got a nice..."

I trailed off realizing who I was talking to, but my dad simply smirked.

"A nice face?" He suggested. "Nice abs? Nice arms? Which I'm sure you got a great feel of since you definitely weren't six feet apart, young lady."

My cheeks were red as I swatted his arm.

"I know we weren't," I muttered, feeling like a teenager who'd just been caught sneaking out with a boy. "But I was injured and I couldn't walk."

"Well, I hope you're good at hopping because I won't be able to carry you into the house like that with my old back," He informed me. "I'm no Superman."

I rolled my eyes and mumbled a quick 'shut up' as I looked out the window, but there was a smile on my face that I couldn't shake and for the first time since this whole pandemic fiasco began, I felt a little flicker of hope.

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 7) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

After Logan finished eating, Patton showed him his office. First, he was given his personal and work files which were familiar in organizational structure even if they had years’ worth of new information in them and his work files had a new subfolder for teaching instead of being purely for schoolwork. Yet, the thing that most interested Logan was the new file designation which Patton retrieved for him by finding a key in a hidden desk drawer compartment and using it to open a secret compartment in the wall. The files there were red and completely new to Logan. Thankfully, they still had quite a bit of structure that he was able to pick up quickly and there were easy to read tables of contents with understandable subsection titles.

He flipped curiously through the first few. They reflected the story Patton had told him earlier in content as well as form. The beginning files were either blue for work or plain white since his foray into superherodom had started from an academic source.

Though he had not known Logan at the time by his own admission, Patton’s knowledge of his early days of being a superhero were perfectly accurate based on the files. That combined with his knowledge about where the files were in the first place, stroked Logan’s curiosity regarding the man even more. Logan was not a trusting person, at least he had not been at 18, and he imagined not much had changed in the last 10 years. So, he had to wonder what it was about Patton that had made him willing to share so much about his life and clearly heavily protected aspects of his life at that. He did not imagine he would share his exploits as a hero with just anyone.

And, if it were just his exploits as a hero, perhaps he would have even understood that. It was good to have an ally, especially one with useful skills such as a doctor. Yet, Patton’s knowledge went deeper than even that to things more personal, ones not in these files or any of his others. He knew things about Logan: his favorite color, why he prefers some fabrics over others, and stories that had never left his lips in his current memories.

Why? He had to wonder. What made this person so different than everyone else?

Certainly, he could see the appeal of him as a romantic partner in the theoretical sense.

He was a doctor which was useful considering Logan’s superhero status likely led to physical injuries sometimes. In addition, that was a well-paying, respectable job, though it did have an unpredictable work schedule. Achievement in that field spoke of enough intellect to be on par with Logan even if they were in different areas.

He was also clearly adequately skilled in other things. He had managed to find Logan and get him back to his apartment and seemed to have enough emotional control to do what was necessary in the situation.

This was someone he imagined his parents would have likely expected for him as a romantic partner (if they expected anything at all). Though, Logan did have to worry that if they were both not particularly emotionally expressive then there may not be a good balance in the relationship.

Logan watched as he flipped through one of his personal files to get a picture from his college graduation to show him with practiced ease. He was comfortable around Logan’s organizational system, he noted. That was something no one had ever bothered to be before. Most people either tolerated or scorned the way he kept his files, but Patton knew his way around it almost as well as Logan himself, better in fact when it came to the new red files, fingers always flipping to the correct pages in seconds when Logan asked questions.

It was nice to have someone care enough to learn it.

It felt as though something shifted marginally inside his chest at the thought of someone being patient enough to learn how Logan organized his life. To do so was to basically learn how Logan’s mind worked. He… hadn’t known that was something he might want.

Oh.

That, he suddenly knew with clarity, that was why. Or at least part of why. It had to be.

“So,” Patton broached suddenly, likely catching him staring and wonder why, “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

Logan blinked at him. “You already know me. Better than I do myself at the moment.”

“Sure, but I’ve only known versions of you that I’ve known.”

“Yes. That is typically how reality works.”

“Well not today,” he pointed out and… fair point. “Plus, maybe you’ll start to remember more if you start talking about yourself. Like when you’re trying to remember the title of a song so you sing the lyrics you know until you get to the point where they use the title in the song.”

Logan considered that. “That sounds like a rational strategy to try. What should I talk about?”

“Well, I know a lot about the events that happened in your life, but not really what you thought about them at the time. What are things you like and dislike in your life right now. You know,” he paused, “what are things you find annoying? Stuff like that.”

“I like coffee,” Logan said after a moment of consideration, “and school. Libraries. I like order and schedules and it makes me uncomfortable when things don’t go to plan. I don’t like impromptu things or eating outside. I don’t really like when people are overly emotional or when they cry mostly because I never know how to respond. I don’t like my English teacher because she once had a mental breakdown crying about a dream she had for 30 minutes when a student asked her if she’d graded our papers. Also, she was homophobic. I like math and science and my parents. Though, I dislike when they insist, I try to go out and “have fun.” I especially disliked when they set me up with a date for the homecoming. When I said I didn’t want to go especially with a girl they set me up with a boy for the next dance which was… nice as they attempted to listen to me, but they entirely missed the point. I dislike messes. I like jam. I want to major in math and physics and get my PhD in at least one… that seemed to work out. My calculus teacher was my favorite even though everyone else seemed to resent her, but we also mostly all passed the advanced placement test, so I think it was worth it. Also, she was kind.”

“You had a homophobic English teacher?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, did I never mention?” Logan asked. “She made her views known to a boy in the year below me and got fired a month ago.”

“You never told me about that.”

“Perhaps I decided she was no longer worth dwelling on. The man who took her place seems adequate, though I am not in his class. I also like my current English teacher. She says she got her teaching degree later in life and before that used to be a cultural anthropologist. She tells us stories about different places she’s been.”

Patton smiled. “She sounds interesting,” he said.

“Yes, and it is quite an interesting course. It is an extra one beyond what I must take to graduate. We write a research paper over the course of the entire semester.” Logan paused for a long moment. “This does not seem to be doing anything.”

Patton nodded. “Okay,” he said. “That’s fine. We’ll try something else. Maybe we should have lunch first though.”

Logan was starting to feel a bit hungry. “That is a good idea.”

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 8

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi guys! I I'm an ENXP and I was looking for some advice about knowing myself better. I saw the mods are ENPs and maybe you guys could help me. I recently noticed a pattern regarding my own actions that is basically ruining my life. I seem to rely too much on my Ne, specially about my future and my career. I'm ruled by a need of pursuing anything that catches my attention in a determined moment. I obsess over it for a while and then move on. I've changed my major 4 times now. Every activity I do is temporary. And if I don't find something I can obsess over I get depressed and bored. Anyways, I think this has led me to not trust myself anymore, since I can't commit to anything because I lose interest in everything and I'm always looking for new possibilities. I have reached a point where I can't allow myself to pursue everything I want and I have to make decisions and commit. But I'm too scared to become trapped and take responsibility for my own decisions. I think this would be easier if I knew myself better, but I don't think I know who I am besides my own random interests, which is weird I guess. How can I develop my own Fi? Or Ti? How do you guys deal with your dominant Ne? How do you commit to things? I'm 23 by the way. Shouldn't I have developed some Fi or Ti or something by now? I turned to mbti because I wanted to gain a better understanding of myself but holy shit this is hard. I could only recognize my dominant Ne. All this self analysis seems useless if I don't really know myself, I realized I'm not self aware at all. So anyways, as fellows Ne doms how did you guys developed your auxiliary functions? Any advice will be amazing! Thank you guys for everything you do here!

The first thing you need to do is recognize is you are an Enneagram 7 and all of this is ‘normal’ for them in lower health levels. To overcome this, you have to ‘grow up’ as a 7 and stop allowing fear of commitment or quick loss of focus from dominating your life. You have control over yourself, you are not utterly helpless to your whims (said the Fi user who has a moral tone of ‘you make your own choices and messes and you have to get out of them’ ;).

7s have to learn to be open to the scary idea of commitment to reap the dividends of hard work.

Read the 7 profile and see how allowing yourself to ‘run away’ from commitment (which includes not finishing or devoting yourself to any project) can hinder your life. Once you recognize WHAT you are doing, and WHY you are doing it, you can develop the power to STOP YOURSELF from doing it, or from allowing ‘excuses’ or fear to run you away from good things.

ENTP Mod. : Charity is right. Here is also where the judging functions come into play. With Fi, you can eventually weed out that which you aren't personally passionate about/ those goals which don't align with your personal values. With Ti, you can see a chain reaction of the patterns in your life, and determine the most effective path to help yourself using logic to streamline your processes, make it more elegant.

Slow the hell down. Force yourself to stop running toward the future and live right now. Repeat the mantra of ‘right now is all that matters today’ a 100 times an hour if you have to. Be present. Be invested. Bring yourself into ‘now.’

My co-mod is a 7w6 ENTP who suffers from a lot of the same issues; I will nudge her to offer her two cents to this post, in regards as to what she is currently doing about it. Basically, she had to talk herself into getting a permanent job rather than talking herself out of it. Once she got into it, she realized it didn’t suck as much as she feared. Her brain is her own worst enemy.

I had to talk myself into this job. I gave myself lots of reasons why I would love it. It might sound a little unrealistic going in with pre set expectations but at least you will not go in blind. Making a pros cons list is always a good idea. It helps to sift through your multiple ideas, and narrow down the ones which can really work. Test out the feasibility of your ideas, opportunities before hand. Talk to people, do your research. Just remember that things will never be as bad or boring as you think them to be. This is a cliche but something which helps me in the mornings when I know I have boring work to do is "Get up, dress up, show up. Never give up." Also it helps to live from day to day. Don't worry too far into the future, you never know what variables might upset your plans.

Work-wise, a 7 needs to travel, get the ‘high’ of meeting new people, and not to be involved in sheer detail-driven grunt work. They need challenges to work toward and obstacles to overcome. Pick a career that offers you all of that. If you do not, you will have a string of 6 months at ___ jobs that do not look good on your resume. Find a career in something that you feel passionate about, that offers some kind of mental stimulation.

ENTP 7 co-mod is an attorney who loves to find ways to ‘get around things’ in the law.

ENTP Mod. note: Always try to remember the root of your passion when you feel like defecting from one option to another. If you must leave, leverage what you have learned in one place and how you can dress that up to make your hopping about look good. That's what I did, and it worked for me. Some of the reasons I love my job are the constant intellectual stimulation, creative aspects of it, my love for criminology pays off, meeting interesting people. Sure there are sucky days when you have to deal with the bureaucratic demons. But that won't be every day. Unless your role requires you to do something like it. In which case I would suggest that you avoid picking up detail heavy, low Si or adherence related work which will make you feel miserable and frustrated. Try to pick something that plays to your strengths, improve your weaknesses. Compete with nobody but yourself. Every day you are better than you were, yesterday. Even with a little effort. It is important to not give up. It is so hard for 7s but we have the gift of rationalizing. So instead of using it as a mechanism to justify dropping things, use it to tell yourself why you should stick around. You as a 7 can make most things fun. So find little tricks and ways to make the work day fun. Whether it is achieving small, impactful targets or making games out of small, low stakes things. Also, having money and being able to live nicely is fun. Nobody is gonna pay you if they think that their money will be wasted on training you if your pattern is just leaving jobs. It took me a long time to develop this perspective but I am glad I did.

I (ENFP 6w5 sp/so) chose a career in magazine editing, because it gives me time to do what I actually love, which is write novels. I’m afraid I can’t give you advice from my own life that would work for you, because a 6w5 sp/so is far more focused and driven to finish their projects than a 7w6, which means I push through ‘the boring, tedious bits’ of projects regardless of how ‘excited’ I am. It’s not fun to edit a book 7 times, but I still do it. I force myself to show up to work, to sit there for 3 or 4 hours, and commit to X amount of words, pages, etc.

Do you think it’s “fun” for me always to keep this queue stocked, or to type up characters at the end of a long day because the queue is low? Or go back and update old profiles and move them from this blog onto wordpress? No. I hate it sometimes. It’s boring as hell. But I committed to it, I will see it through, even though looking into my “to update” folder makes me want to scream. I tackle huge projects one step at a time. I’m disciplined but I can procrastinate at work, rather than doing whatever needs doing.

Which really is the bottom line. You want to finish things? Just do them. Force yourself to show up and do the work, even if it’s “boring.” Most of life isn’t fun. Paying the bills isn’t fun. You do boring stuff to make a living, so you can have the money to do fun things. If you do not learn to do it, whether or not it is fun, you will wind up ‘stuck at home this month, because I have no money.’

That frustrates a 7 even more than being bored at work.

Accept that your fear of commitment is a fear-driven lie.

You are not going to get trapped by committing to something or someone. Head types massively over-think things and allow fear – in the 7’s case of “missing out” on better things – to dominate their life. Admit it’s fear. Admit that allowing fear to ruin your entire life is stupid. Then do something against the fear. Do the thing fear tells you not to: commit and work at it. Fight the urge every day to leave. Stick it out, and prove you ‘can’ to yourself.

Middle functions. You’re in college so you should be seeing either some Ti analyzing or Te “buckle down and set goals and get this schoolwork finished by the deadline” kicking in. Are you more inclined to self-doubt and beat yourself up like a young FiTe user after ‘failing’ to organize your time efficiently or to make excuses and blame external circumstances like a young TiFe user?

My Fi has always been strongly evident, though I didn’t know what it was at the time. Things that set off a NOPE response in me vs. the ‘rest of everything, which I don’t care about.’ The intense sensitivity as a child. The compassion for other people and especially for small animals. The understanding of emotional dynamics and how people ‘feel.’ The constant angst between caring too much about people’s feelings and being low Te blunt or rude when I’m having an off day. The ‘going away from everyone’ to deal with my feelings in private. I have always fiercely, Fi-ishly known what I like and do not like, and have no ability to ‘tolerate’ things that I do not like. Once, I didn’t like half the people seated at my table at a public event, so I shut down completely and did not say a word to anyone at the table for two hours. My Fe friend also hated them, but smiled and charmed them all. Lucky girl. She can fake her feelings. I can’t.

- ENFP Mod

[a-dozen-moderate-fragments]

This isn’t going to be a manifesto on healing or mental health or any of those things, and not because I don’t have years of personal experience in those areas, but rather because the only experience I can talk about is personal. The things that worked for me aren’t guaranteed to work for anyone else, but they’re all I have. I just want to write down a bunch of stuff I’m thinking about. The story goes a little something like this:

Up until somewhere around two years ago I was very depressed – and I think it started when I was ten or so? One of the things that makes this so tricky to talk about is that I don’t remember most of it and it feels like I only woke up a few years ago. But that’s for another time. What matters today is that for a pretty decent chunk of my life, to varying degrees, I was not doing so great in the general head region. Around the middle of high school (so like 15-16 years old) this showed up as a gradually worsening spiral into self-hatred, suicidal ideation, and a general lack of function that reached its extreme early senior year (18 yrs old), with a generous helping of shitty behavior throughout. I’ll spare the details, but to briefly summarize: an attempt, a deliberately anonymized and untraceable plea for help, two days of protective hospitalization, and three very awkward sessions with a therapist, with whom I did not even slightly cooperate (lmao Sarah I’m sorry for being such an obstinate little shit, and to anyone who was here for the other blog at the time and saw what I wrote about the experience, you deserve the employee discount), and to an extent those things helped, but, and weird flex incoming, I think what really helped me recover my mind and pull my schoolwork and personal relationships out of the nosedive I’d put them in was laundry. Let me explain.

I started doing my own laundry around age 12. No particular reason; that’s just when I decided I was a ✨big boy✨ or whatever the fuck and asked my mom to teach me how to do it. And for a while it was entirely insignificant, just a thing I did in between all the other things I did. After my \\epic crisis moment// though, the task became more significant. As I sat with the flaming rubble of a self I’d left me, I knew three things: that I wanted to take this wreck and twist it into someone better, that I didn’t have the tools to do the job or even an idea of where to look for them, and that I’d start in the laundry room. The person I’d been had in every measurable way fallen the heck apart, but for some reason none of my issues interfered too badly with my ability to do laundry. Admittedly, it did often happen far closer to the last minute than it needed to, but regardless it always got done. No matter how much of a crisis I was in, by god I was going to at least be having that crisis in clean clothes. So when it came time to rebuild anew, that’s where I started. While I was gathering my dirty clothes to put in the wash, maybe I’d also pick up those papers off the floor, or maybe I’d glance through my email inbox while I was waiting for the dryer so I could have a few hours to prepare myself before I had to actually write an email. It took months and months of concentrated work and lots of fragile progress, but eventually, building outwards from “I am capable of doing laundry,” I made my way into one (1) reasonably stable and functioning human.

There were other factors, of course. Another big thing I did was to surround myself with better things. I removed myself as much as possible from people who might bring me back into my old patterns, and as much as possible surrounded myself with stories of positivity and growth and healing, and I learned to sing, and I found people both real and fictional to live for, and if I’m being honest? Part of it was being here on tumblr reading posts about cherry pies and flowers in the concrete and monsters and heroes blended into one, and I’m also sure there’s symbolism in the laundry ritual to dig into about cleansing and wiping away past transgressions and all that christian bullshit, but all of that stuff’s not really what I’m interested in here. I know at the start I said I only can talk about myself, but I think it’s useful to talk about what I did in general terms, to examine how a broken person with no idea how to mend can do so. These are what I take away from my experience with forcefully rebuilding myself: If you’ve only got one solid thing, you screw in a handhold and cling to it for all you’re worth. It can be the smallest or most unrelated thing and it does not matter; it will still crack open the door to further growth. It’s a fundamentally self-driven effort that takes a long time, but it gets a little easier if there’s another person in the equation, whether they be a friend, a family member, or even a fictional character. It’s far too easy to get frustrated with how little progress you seem to be making and give up, but having another person to fight for so they can have a better version of you can counter that. It might not be the 100% healthiest thing to define yourself by how you benefit others, but it helps. Bonus points if one of those people in the equation is a certified mental health professional. Be aware of what your subconscious is telling you as you go. You’re already in a state of reconstruction, so if there’s something you need to change, this is a good time to do it. If there’s something you find yourself idly thinking about a lot, examine it (hint hint trans hint. Not that that’s an obligatory part of this whole process but like. It was for me lmao). It’s hard and it sucks and progress is not linear nor is it guaranteed to stick 100% of the time but I promise it is so worth it and there will come a day when you no longer feel in danger of slipping and I’m proud of how far you’ve come and how far you’ll go.

And I don’t really have anything meaningful to say but as shit has this year has been in general, for the first time I remember I’m happy that I’m alive and I’m so glad I was able to claw my way to this point and I know I’ve got much farther to go but – and this is a radical statement for me – I genuinely do love who I’ve become and I’m excited to see where I go next, how much more genuinely and readily I can love and how many people I can care about and bring with me.

[mahlerlove]

I'm gonna use the empty void in this website because here I don't have any connections to people in my daily life

I have issues concerning socialization. Lots of them.

I was born in Brazil, but moved to the US (California) when I was 2. I was learning Portuguese with my family, but when we moved, I had to basically start over with English. The cultural differences between Brazil and the US are huge, especially concerning a child's development. In Brazil, PDA is the norm. If you are a toddler, it's expected for people to talk to your parents AND you. There are a lot of social cues that are vastly different in either country, and US culture focuses on a very detached interaction between people. The only friends I had were the kids of some friends of my parents, and not only couldn't I communicate with them, but I also got bullied by them.

I was a toddler who didn't speak English, and what little Portuguese I knew was shunned even by the Spanish speaking teachers at every single school I went to. My family would have the police called on them because of PDA and existing as immigrants, and also because they couldn't understand, for example, why giving you preschool teacher a hug was enough reason to get their 3yo expelled. I changed schools about 20 times while we lived in the US. My sister, even though she was born in the US, wouldn't be accepted anywhere because of xenophobia.

We were set to live there for life. My parents had applied for US citizenships, and my father's contract was going to be renewed on October. Then 9/11 happened. In less than two months we had been deported and were back to our old house in Brazil without anything except a styrofoam box where we would try to keep some food while everything was being shipped by boat. We lived almost 2 months like that, while my father tried to get his old job back. It was awful.

My parents tried to enroll me in school, but the thing is: Brazil has a lot of practical jokes, especially between kids. I got expelled in a week because a kid slapped me as a joke and I, due to being raised in such a strong "do not touch anyone" policy, responded by beating them up. I didn't know any Portuguese, English is not used as a second language here, and my parents couldn't teach me anything because they were both struggling with unstable jobs and two kids (5yo me and 2yo sister).

In the US I had learned how to read very quickly, and my parents thought I wouldn't have any issues at school here. I ended up changing school half a dozen times, but finally settled in a school that used a different method. That school was hell. The class teacher would lock me in a closet at the back of the class so that I "wouldn't be a bad influence on the other kids". I got beat up daily, multiple times, by other kids, and more than once got physically assaulted by that teacher herself. She got me expelled two months from finishing first grade.

My parents were out of options. They had nowhere else to go. I still couldn't speak Portuguese well enough, no school would accept me or my sister, and even if I wasn't scared and hurt enough, telling them about the abuse wouldn't amount to anything because the school board would defend their own kids at all costs. I was 6, couldn't and wouldn't talk to anyone, and would pounce on anyone who tried to approach me.

The school that expelled me suggested a school for "special kids", where kids who had neurological, genetic, or developmental issues (sorry if these descriptions is offensive, I'm trying to explain this as best as I can). My parents took that advice and tried to get me enrolled there. The school didn't accept any kids younger than 7, but they went out of their way to help. I spent the three next months ina cupboard under a staircase talking and playing with two teachers who would try to find some time between classes to take care of me until I'd go to some sort of therapy. I still didn't have any friends, but I was finally able to speak Portuguese, and wasn't trying to beat up anyone who dared near me.

The next year I got into a 1st grade class, along with 5 other kids. Things were finally starting to go well. I started getting along with my classmates, but most of the time I'd isolate myself and read books. I wouldn't go out to play at recess, and they banned me from the school library when I refused to socialize. I was scared of playing with anyone because I didn't want to get bullied or hurt any of my classmates. I wouldn't establish any sort of friendship out of fear of someone getting hurt. I started going to boy scout meetings, and those were the only reason I lived for.

Two years later I changed schools again, and my parents hoped that then it would be better for me. When the board of the school I'd been attending explained to them that I would get compromised educationally and mentally, they accepted their recommendation and enrolled me in another school. It was even worse than before. I got bullied in every way possible because of the school I'd come from. I would be called r*tarded, filthy, and other stuff by my classmates, other kids, and staff. The only place I'd been even remotely happy was called a hospice by everyone around me, including other parents and teachers. My teacher would try to keep things under control, but when she got diagnosed with cancer and quit to treat her health, things only went downhill. I had my chest slashed open by one teacher's nails when she grabbed me to scream insults when I tried to defend myself from being beaten by four classmates during her class. It was the first time I planned suicide.

When I turned 10, I went back to the school I'd been expelled from. The first day of school my mother pulled me aside and explained to me that my teacher had threatened the school board to give me a chance in his class. He tried to include me at every time, and did whatever he could to keep me from harm. He was fired at the end of that same year under false pretenses and ridiculous accusations of not following the school's method. I would only speak three times a day: "Good morning teacher." "School was ok.", and "Good night".

I wasn't as lucky with my classmates as I was with him. The daughter of my former teacher at the school (the one who locked me in the closet) was in that class, and she made sure to tell everyone where I'd come from, and used that as an excuse to get everyone around to beat me. I got stabbed with pencils and had my clothes and hair cut with scissors. Again, it was hell. I had no friends, because nobody would come close to me, either due to prejudice, or for fear of getting the short end of the stick for approaching me. When my teacher got fired at the end of the year things got even worse. I had to bring two sets of clothes to school each day because I'd get thrown in a small pond at the back of the school every day, sometimes twice. The only place I could be a bit more free was at my scouts group meetings. I tried suicide for the first time.

The next year things started to change. One kid stood up for me and berated everyone in front of the class. The next day he tried to use that as blackmail to manipulate me into doing his schoolwork, and threatened to beat me up as well. He still beat me up. But his speech had some impact: I started to be left alone. I'd hide in the school library and read for hours on end after school while I waited for my parents to pick me up. Some teachers started helping me with schoolwork and I started to pick myself up.

The next two years steadily got better, but I could never trust anyone enough to call them my friend. The only place I was open enough to talk to people was at scouts meetings, and even so, I wouldn't hold conversations or let friendships develop because every time I tried to open up, I was forced to realize I never learned how to act or talk to people, and would have "weird kid" rubbed on my face.

During that time I went as a junior chaperone to a summer camp. That's where I made my first true friend after my time in the "special kids" school. She and I sat down on a riverbank and started talking about feeling left out. My first true friendship was made over a conversation about wanting to commit suicide. She is my friend to this day.

Highschool wasn't much better. Even if people were treating me well, nobody would stick around too much because of how "weird" I was. I did make some more friends. I came out during that time, and even with my family's support, it wasn't easy. The first three people I fell in love with were gone: The first one died of cancer at 16, the next one had a stroke when we were chasing each other, and lost all her memory, even her own name. The third one was one of best friends, and when she left for college she cut all contact with everyone, and I was brokenhearted and lost.

I chose to study Psychology in college. I studied hard to get accepted in a public university (in Brazil those are the best ones), and I moved 500km (a little over 310 miles) away. I was trying my hardest to start over and have a new life. I chose my course because I believed that some rotten apples don't represent Humanity as a whole, and I didn't want anyone to suffer what I've been through. I chose to be a therapist, teacher, or social worker the day I had my first class in that cupboard under the stairs.

College has given me the best moments of my life: I have friends, I have had relationships, I have finally been invited to parties, but to this day I still struggle with social interactions. I still can't connect with people, and I still get teased and ridiculed for certain mannerisms. I still feel better on my own. I don't think I've ever been loved, and I live with the little voice in the back of my head telling me it's all a farce to humiliate and hurt me even more. I have never felt loved, even by my family. I have never had a genuine connection with any of my partners. I have never felt truly accepted in any clique or group of friends.

I spend most of my time drinking, smoking, and trying to relate to other people in some sort of social setting, when I know it's all a temporary relief for this emptiness and detachment from other people I feel 24/7. Quarantine has been a relief and a curse.

Any type of rejection, any type of joke directed at me, makes me break in a cold sweat and hold back tears. Any type of interaction, whoever it may be with, feels fake and staged. I have no identity. Therapy has never helped me with this, because these therapists are never able to grasp how lonely I've been my whole life. Every single day I grow weary of other people, and I feel that I am a fraud. Every day I hate people a little more, and I hate myself for it, for making the decision to help others, for believing in a lie. I am living a lie told by me to myself.

[extraordinarilyunexceptional]

I like to pop in here and give a random update every now and then because I think it is so special to look back at my growth from dealing with depression and anxiety to finding fulfillment and a reason to smile everyday. 

With the pandemic going on, I have had a lot of valuable time to do and experience things I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to do with my crazy work/school schedule. In mid-March I became a proud student of Zoom university. It was an adjustment but I am very thankful for kind professors who understood how difficult of a time it was for everybody to transition to online schooling, especially as a science major. I had time to study on my own schedule and spend time with friends over video calls which was so filling. 

A week later I was furloughed from my job, which really took a toll on my mental health. While it was not cool to be doing online schooling, I felt okay with what was happening around me because I still had a routine. I still had a reason to get up, and also I was able to leave my house and be in a different space for some parts of the week. When I lost that, I lost a lot of motivation. I was still doing schoolwork, still hanging out with friends virtually. But I was so easily distracted. I saved everything for the last minute and didn’t really have my priorities straight. 

A week after that my uncle fell ill with the virus and was hospitalized in the ICU. 

I have only ever seen my dad cry once, and it was when we lost my brother. Hearing my father sob in my mom’s arms when we got the call felt like a knife was being stabbed into my lungs. I had to suppress a lot of the emotions I was feeling to get through the day. And when I was alone, I would cry from the fear I felt of losing my uncle. 

Shortly after that my father also fell ill with the virus. 

And then my grandpa.

And then my mom.

And then my sister.

And then me.

My uncle was in the ICU for 3 weeks, and spent over a month in the hospital. My grandpa was put on a ventilator for two weeks. My parents were quarantined in separate rooms at home for two weeks at the same time. I became the “parent” while they were sick, trying to juggle my classes and make sure that my siblings were keeping up with their things. 

I spent two weeks in my room. Alone.

My sister spent two weeks in a separate room. Alone. 

I felt so scared and secluded from everyone. I mean as if we weren’t all already scared and secluded, not being able to spend time with my family and not having the freedom of leaving my room gave me the worst anxiety I’ve experienced in a long time. I mean I get sick all the time, but I never know how scared it was to be sick with something that kills so many people. I could have died. My case wasn’t severe, but I could have died if we hadn’t been careful. And that was the scariest thing for me. 

While I was alone, I spent a lot of time coloring, reading, and praying. I tried my best not to leave myself alone for too long. I spent long hours talking to my wonderful friend Carrie, playing jackbox games with my life group, and spending time praising and learning about Jesus and the Bible with my Inter Varsity community. 

I know a lot of people have it way worse than I do. But the stuff I suffered through was not easy. Seeing my family suffer was not easy. But as I write this, I guess I was impressed by how I handled everything. I still kept my head up, I did my best not to lose hope or faith. And when I felt like I was slipping, I turned to God for guidance. I studied His word and listened to what He had to tell me. 

It is now my second week back to work. By God’s grace I was given the opportunity to work from home. It is also my second week of summer classes and I am blessed to have a great professor who makes the class very understandable. I have spent almost every night since being out of isolation watching movies and TV shows with my family, working on puzzles, or simply just hanging out and talking with each other. 

April 2019, I nearly took my life away. I was going through one of the worst downfalls of my life. But by the grace of God almighty, I am alive and I am well. And I rejoice in that. I rejoice because God is good. I rejoice because He provides for me even when I’m lost. He shows me love when I feel empty. He reaches His hand out to me when I am hanging from this cliff called life. 

A while ago, I thought about starting a whole new blog to have a space where I can praise God in the mountains I climb through life. But I decided not to because the sadness and suffering I have experienced is what makes me who I am today. I can’t erase that part of me. 

I hope to be more active here moving forward. I hope that I can be a light for people who struggle with depression, anxiety, abuse, etc. I hope that God would give me the wisdom I need to share His word and give people a reason to smile everyday. I know life is difficult, and sometimes we experience things that we never imagined, things that bring us the worst pain and tears and strip away every ounce of happiness. But I also know that there is beauty in that suffering. I know that there is someone who has always been rooting for me since the beginning. 

If you read through all this, you’re a star :) I hope you’re doing well and staying safe, and I hope the same for all your loved ones. 

Be strong. 

[pbpress]

Midnight Coma

By Ruqayyah Pickel

My parents always said I was a resilient child. 

So they weren’t surprised when I took a bowling ball to the head when a fight broke out at our local arcade a couple of months ago--and seemed to be just fine, save for the massive bruise that formed on my head. 

I did still end up in the hospital for about a week, but other than that I was fine. I still felt lightheaded at times, and I passed out quite a bit, so my parents decided to homeschool me to limit the risk of my head trauma getting worse. There were too many things at school that would pose as a hazard to me...especially the stairs. 

Being an only child, spending a lot of time at home was…rather boring. Sure, there were the huge stacks of RPGs and fighting games I got for Christmas, but the bright lights and flashing would probably make my frequent headaches even worse. So I mostly took to reading mystery novels and drawing when I wasn’t doing schoolwork. Most days, though, I preferred to read. Drawing was fun too, of course--I used to love to come up with strange characters, or just drawing cool landscapes I found online when I was out of ideas, but the last thing I needed was for my parents to come and check on me and see the more recent pages of my sketchbook.

Anyone who looked at my sketchbook nowadays would think something was wrong with me. They wouldn’t exactly be lying, though: recently, my pages were filled with stuff that had been happening in my dreams. Shadowy figures standing over my bed, running down dark alleyways, fearing for my life, drawings of me being chained to my bed by spectral shackles…drawing these for the first time used to unnerve me, and I barely ever finished the first ones. However, I gradually came to find it more therapeutic, like I could put a face to the otherwise enigmatic forces that haunted me each night. 

Getting a good night’s rest was nearly impossible nowadays; I was tormented endlessly by sleep paralysis and recurring dreams. I couldn’t go a single night without dealing with either of them, or both. Some nights, I’d find myself frozen in bed, trying to will myself to move with no avail. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t cry out for help, but I just struggled endlessly to free myself from whatever was holding me down, feeling the warm tears falling down my face as I wept in silence. Sometimes my sleep paralysis lasted for over an hour. Before my parents homeschooled me, I ended up missing the bus because of it. 

Other nights, I actually could move...and I kind of had to. I’d find myself in that same dark alleyway, knowing what was to come and dreading it every time. I would walk around aimlessly, waiting, until *he* finally showed up. 

Those heavy footsteps, the chill in the air that my dream tormentor always carried with him. Those black, tattered clothes, his black gloves, his huge hood that held an empty void where his face was supposed to be. He would just stay there for about a minute or so—I counted—before bursting into a sprint towards me. I couldn’t fight him, I couldn’t reason with him, all I could do was run as fast as I could and scream, hoping some dream god could hear me. This faceless killer always carried with him a razor edged knife that was curved just slightly, and though I’ve yet to feel it pierce my skin, just thinking about how it would feel sent shivers down my spine. 

Before long, I started seeing this maniac in real life, too. No, not on the street wandering the waking world, luring other innocent victims to their death. I started seeing him in my room, while I lay there, motionless, helpless. He stood over my bed, the knife in hand at his side. I saw it, he knew I saw it. But he did nothing. Not for a while, at least. 

Then, he started to take action. 

He would raise the knife up, slowly; sometimes it wouldn’t even fully reach the top before I had managed to blink him out of existence. Sometimes, though, the knife would go higher, sometimes reaching the very top. Some nights, the knife would already be fully raised when he showed up. Then, like a roller coaster car at the top of the hill, it would plunge straight down. Only then was I finally jolted out of my sleep paralysis.

Too many times have I seen his nonexistent face.

Too many times have I pleaded with him to leave me alone.

Too many times have I screamed in silence, felt my heart thunder against my chest in real life as I tried to outrun this shadowy killer. 

Too many times have I laid in my bed, frozen, my face drenched with cold sweat as I woke up with a comatose start after my relentless tormentor was inches away, always just inches away from finishing the job. 

And too many times have I broken free from his chase, thinking I was safe, only to find him just inches away in the real world. 

When I did eventually wake up, I found myself in tears. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to go to sleep. Whenever I asked my parents for help, they just told me to “look up a solution, ”or “just try to sleep.”

And I did.

I always did.

I never stopped trying.

And I never stopped failing.

But I had enough. There had to be something I could do. Fortunately, I did have one person to confide in: my good friend Quinn, who claimed to be a witch. One morning, after yet another run-in with the shadowy killer, I sent him a text:

“Can you come over?” 

Immediately, I saw that he read my message. And so I waited. Two minutes later, I heard a knocking on my window. I turned to see the wild-haired, freckled witch boy crouched on my windowsill. He had on his signature necklace with a metallic feather on it. His brown shirt was torn a bit, creating a slight v-neck, and his “lucky witch hat” was tied on his back with the string. He stumbled through the window as I opened it, and he landed on my floor.

“I see you’ve called on my services once again,” the witch boy said, putting his hat on as he sat cross-legged. 

I nodded. “It’s gotten worse. He’s started showing up in real life, too.” 

“Like, you’ve seen him around?” Quinn asked. 

“No. He’s shown up right beside my bed, sometimes even stabbing me.” 

“Well, not really stabbing you, now, right?” 

“No…at least I don’t think so.” My hand instinctively moved toward my abdomen, where I would often find the blade just inches from me before I woke up. “But during these nights, when I woke up…I could feel a slight stinging sensation right here.” I gestured toward my abdomen. “I...also found a bruise there earlier today.”

“How strange…” Quinn said. “I suppose he’s finally caught up to you.” 

“Caught up to me? How?” I asked, worried.

He gave me a solemn smile. 

“It’s as I suspected. He’s a dream demon.” He opened his purse and flipped open to a page in his homemade spell book, then showed it to me. “Creatures of the night that only attack a victim while they’re sleeping. Yours just happened to be strong enough to reach the waking world…and I can only think of a few that can do that.”

I felt the color drain from my face. Did I really have a dream demon?

“Is there any way to get rid of one?” I asked Quinn. 

He thought for a second, examining his book, then looked up at me. 

“Standard exorcism—though not like you’re any good at that—won’t work on this particular nasty,” he explained. 

Ignoring his hurtful comment, I urged him to go on. 

“Fighting a dream demon,” he continued, “requires one to arm themselves mentally, and, to an extent, physically. The way I see it, you’re at an advantage and disadvantage simultaneously. Your greatest weakness is your greatest strength. And you may fear it, but the truth is, you will have to accept it eventually. Especially in a case like this, you don’t have much of a choice.”

I felt my face contort into an expression of confusion. As always, Quinn’s riddles had caught me off guard. I read his own expression, hoping he would give me some kind of clue, but that slight smile stayed on his face. 

Finally, I had come to realize what he meant. Quinn and I had talked for so long that I was somewhat accustomed to the kind of magic that he gets up to. I was then, at least, familiar with the “solution” he had in mind.   

Astral projection…

Quinn first told me about it a little while ago. I won’t lie, the ability to project one’s soul out of their body sounded awesome...except it required the body being completely still in order to pull it off. 

In other words, I would have to enter sleep paralysis. 

In other words, I had to do the exact thing that led me straight to my supposed dream demon. 

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…” I said, “Then absolutely not. Astral projection is way too risky for me. Look what damage he’s done to me already! I might as well just slap a sign on me that says ‘hey! I’m helpless! Come kill me!’ This plan is completely counterproductive! Are you out of your mind?!” 

Quinn let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Oh come on,” he said. “I promise you, it won’t be so bad. You just have to trust me. Besides, I’ve been doing this longer than you have. Your whole sleep paralysis problem is going to make astral projection a lot easier. Like I said--your greatest weakness is your greatest strength.”

It was my turn to let out a shaky sigh, one heavy with anxiety. 

“Very well.” I sat on the floor in front of him, legs crossed, ready to listen, like a kindergartener. “What do I need to do?” 

“Finally come to your senses, hm?” Quinn gave me another sly smile. “Lovely. Now, listen closely. I don’t have much time, so I can only say this once. The instructions are as follows...”

—————

Quinn’s instructions stuck with me that whole night.

Step 1. 

I got in bed, lying flat on my back and throwing my covers over me to where only my head was exposed. I stared at the dreamcatcher on my ceiling; more specifically, the very center of it. I focused on my breathing, and tried to clear my mind of everything. Slowly, the thoughts of everything, save for Quinn’s instructions, slipped out of my mind…that fateful day at the arcade…the shadow killer that pursued me every night…the adrenaline from the other night as he chased me down in the dreamworld…

Step 2. 

That’s when I began to feel…strange. Like my body was shaking, vibrating, but as far as I was aware I wasn’t moving a muscle. As Quinn had instructed, I was to leave these feelings alone and stay completely still. 

Step 3. 

I thought about moving my right hand, but kept it still. Then I moved up my arm, willing myself to move it up and fight against the physical restrictions I had placed on it. This went on for several, unsuccessful minutes, until finally…I felt my arm move, as if it actually was. But my physical arm lay still. Then, I moved on to my left hand and repeated the process. Then my head, both legs, and gradually…I lifted myself up from my bed, leaving my body behind. 

For a moment, it felt like I was still in bed, then I looked back—or down, rather—to find myself lying in bed, eyes shut. It reminded me all too much of an open casket funeral, and my stomach dropped just looking at me.

My stomach dropped even further when I realized I was floating.

The very air around me felt like an ocean, and I frantically flailed around trying to find any sort of ground. When I tried to hang onto the edge of my bed, my hand phased right through. 

Just fly over to the ground! I thought to myself. This should be easy!

But it wasn’t. The weightlessness was jarring; I flailed around desperately in the darkness looking for something to cling onto. It didn’t help that I felt so vulnerable without the fleshy cocoon that was my body. The sensation of someone—something—trying to pull me away, was ceaseless. The room around me felt larger as I continued my desperate flailing, like any sort of anchor I could use—my bookshelves, the foot of my bed, my chair, the windowsill—just got further and further away. 

I kicked my legs out, trying to force my body to go upright, until I finally managed to jerk myself upright. Confident in my position, I landed my feet on the ground, praying I wouldn’t slip under the floor. 

To my surprise, my feet landed on the floor without slipping through. 

I didn’t begin to question how I managed to stay on the second floor; I was too busy reeling from the probably-too-long process of trying to steady myself. Now all I had to do was wait and see if that faceless terror decided to come for me again. 

And so I waited.

And waited. 

And waited. 

It’s been several minutes and nothing was happening. Surely some outside force was causing my sleep paralysis…right? So where was it? If I had managed to pull off a feat like, oh, I dunno, forcing my spirit out of my body, then nothing was impossible at this point…

Right? 

Finally, I gave up and decided that I was probably better off getting myself out of this state of paralysis. I stood on the edge of the bed, right where my feet were, turned around, and fell back on top of my body, hoping to be jolted awake by the sudden return of my spirit—

And fell through the bed instead, stopping myself just in time before I fell through the first floor, too. I looked around and, after taking a minute to process everything in the dark, came to the conclusion that I was in my living room. Annoyed, I drifted back towards my staircase, intending to go back and try again—when I felt something grab me as I turned the corner. I was pulled back into the living room, and found myself face-to-face with an eerily familiar figure…

…the same black-clad, faceless, knife-wielding killer from my dreams. Grabbing my wrist, he held the knife behind my neck, as if to draw me closer. I was almost forced to look at the empty void where his face should have been. 

You know how some people say that if you stare into the void long enough, the void stares back at you? That’s kind of what happened to me…but worse.

No, the void didn’t just stare back at me. It smiled at me, a cruel, triumphant smile that only grew as it saw the absolute terror on my face as I felt the cold steel against my neck; as if it could just feel the overwhelming despair within me that only continued to eat at any hope of me getting out of this situation alive. 

“Who...are you?” I whimpered. “What the hell do you want from me?”

My dream demon gave no response. It didn’t do anything, in fact. As panicked as I was, I started to at least regain my senses when I noticed that this thing was almost completely still. It didn’t even look like it was breathing. 

Was it actually frozen? Or was it toying with me?

Either way, I wouldn’t let this be the end. 

One last chase, I decided. One last chase. I’ve already outran it several times. What was one more?

I immediately broke off into a sprint, pushing my hooded tormentor’s arm that held the knife away as I stumbled on my way out the door. Being incorporeal, I at least had the advantage of being able to phase through the locked door instead of opening it. The feeling of phasing through solid was much more jarring than I could handle, and I continued to stumble a bit as I ran far, far away from the house. I could barely feel my transparent feet hitting the concrete, or the tree branch that would’ve smacked me right in the face after I ran into it. I couldn’t even feel the wind on my face, though I’m not sure if this came from being too overwhelmed with terror or a side effect of being incorporeal. 

The only thing I did feel, however, was the constant, incessant dread of my accursed stalker barely even a foot away from me. I didn’t want to turn around, I begged myself not to look, trying and failing to comfort myself with the lie that the killer wasn’t as close as I thought it was, there was no way, no human can run that fast. The even more obvious lie, of course, was that this was another dream, and even if it does catch up and strike me, I would wake up back in my bed, back in my body.

Finally, I caved and turned around, only to find myself facing that sinister void once more. I screamed, tripping and collapsing to the floor face-down. I turned back up to face my attacker, who was innocently holding its knife behind its back--no, that wasn’t a knife anymore, I noted. It had somehow grown longer than the razor-edged knife it had before, and I could now see the end of the blade from behind the void-faced freak’s back. It had now reached the length of a dagger, or maybe just bordering on the edge of being the length of a shortsword. 

I could only crawl away from my tormentor as I struggled to stand back up. As I pushed myself off the ground and back on my feet, my stomach dropped when I realized my feet were no longer touching the floor. Though I tried desperately to get myself back on the ground, remembering how jarring the feeling of floating had been the first time, I realized that my would-be killer was only a few feet away from me at best, and I should take advantage of this new ability. I willed myself forward, pushing through the air like a swimmer pushes through water, and then did the same going upwards, up past a nearby three-story house. 

I was flying, I realized with awe and wonder, which was quickly cut short when I saw my tormentor climbing up the same house. Part of me wanted to warn the neighbors inside, but every other bit of me just wanted to make sure I actually survived this nightmare. 

I flew back to my house, phasing through trees and powerlines and a bit of scaffolding, until at last I nearly missed my own home. Spotting my room on the second story, I phased through the window and back into my bedroom. It was still dark in my room, but I made out the shape of a body in the darkness. 

But...it wasn’t my body. 

At least, I didn’t think it was. It looked too weak; some bits of hair had fallen out, I looked like I lost a small, yet noticeable amount of weight, and when I looked closer at my face, it didn’t look like me at all. I looked much more pale, my lips were extremely dry, and I could make out the color of an old and large bruise that covered over a third of my forehead. Suddenly, I felt my stomach drop when I realized what was so familiar about how I looked.

I looked dead. 

That’s when I felt a cold breeze come in through the same window, and turned around to find my void-faced, black-clad killer raising a giant onyx scythe towards me. I found myself unable to move, unable to fly away. I just stood there, paralyzed with terror, looking dead in the eyes at the same monster that faced every soul at the end of their lives, no matter how much they begged for mercy.

Its giant scythe, its black clothing…this wasn’t a demon, was it? 

No. It was something worse. People dealt with this thing more frequently than demons, yet this walking void carried with it more terror, more despair, more ruin than any demonic creature could even dream of. My parents always said I was a resilient child, yet my resolve shattered in the face of this monster. I stood in front of it, weeping silently as the sheer dread of my tormentor filled me from head to toe. 

“Please,” I begged. “I held on for so long…please don’t take me away.” 

But it didn’t listen. It never listened. My “resilience” may have made me feel special, but right now I was no different from everyone else—standing in front of this monster, pleading for their lives, never receiving an answer.

And so, like everyone else, all I did was stand there as its onyx scythe tore through my soul, letting out one final silent scream as I felt my very being, and the remnants of my resolve, fall apart. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[universally-the-same]

The link between perfectionism and escapism

Another benefit to therapy is that it’s allowed me to start connecting the dots to behavior patterns in my life. After making these realizations, I’m seeing how important it is to look for and recognize these patterns. If you want to make a change in your life, or better understand why it is that you do what you do, look for the patterns. There’s so much more to their story that what you see up front.

Perfectionism I’ve always admitted to being a perfectionist, but never really considered how extensively that theme played out in my life. It’s not just perfectionism in tasks, or the “all or nothing” tendency that I have when I start a new diet, or start working out. It’s more expansive and all encompassing than that. Katie used the word hyper-focus which sums it up perfectly. My fourteen year-old-self would have used the word obsessive, but I like the word hyper-focus better. I feel like it removes any preconceived negative notions that comes along with this level of perfectionism.

Throughout my life there has always been something that I’m hyper-focused on. Mostly the object of my focus has been something that has benefited me positively on some level, though thinking back there were times where I became hyper-focused on my woes as well.

I think back to my idolization of Dolly Parton and Jean Smart, and my obsessive friendship with Jean’s publicist. I think back to the guy I was fixated on at the mall and how my BFF and I would go and spend hours every Friday night hanging out in the music section of Sears so that I could be the object of his attention. These are just a few of the examples off the top of my head that consumed me for years growing up.

When I would allow myself to feel into my reality, I would blare my music and feel every lyric and every note of every song. I would relate to the music, and allow it to engulf me in sadness. It was this crazy extreme of feeling alone, yet knowing that I wasn’t because someone else could articulate what I was feeling.

This, however led to a summer where I became fixated on poetry. I poured my heart and my tears onto paper as I expressed my feelings in a rhythmic fashion. In one summer I wrote close to 80 poems.

As I grew older, country line-dancing became my obsession and 6 nights out of the week you would find me on the dance floor; a social butterfly feeling into the music once again; but this time allowing it to engulf me in joy.

When I met my husband, I threw myself into our relationship and lost sight of everything else. Many years into our marriage, when I began to acknowledge that I had lost a part of myself I went back to school. Not only in hopes of finding a better job, but because I believed that it would help fill that hole. It did, because I became obsessed with school. I graduated top of my class.

When I wasn’t throwing myself into my schoolwork, I was throwing myself into my work-work and winning awards for top sales there. But once I finished my Associates and Bachelor’s degrees, I had nothing to fixate on, work was miserable, and once again that void in my soul made it’s presence known.

It was during this time that I decided to finally listen to the voice in my head that had been suggesting therapy. Through therapy I found meditation, which allowed me to reconnect with my soul and I reconnected with my spirituality again.

I was able to start learning how to control my anxiety though meditation and mindfulness, and also by releasing some of my perfectionist tendencies. I began realizing that it didn’t matter what other people thought, it only mattered what I thought. This earth-shattering news allowed me to start loving myself which opened the door for me being able to start trusting myself again.

Five years later, the rabbit hole has gotten deeper and deeper, but I’ve been loving every second of it. Some might say that I’ve become somewhat hyper-focused on this whole process. While I don’t necessarily agree, because I believe that self-work is some of the most important work you could ever do, would that really be such a bad thing? And let’s be honest, it’s never been about being a “bad thing”. My perfectionism was actually a blessing in disguise.

I’m now learning that my hyper focus had been a means of survival for me; a coping mechanism. You see, my hyper focus tendency, I’ve come to learn, is another form of escapism for me. By becoming consumed by the task/object at hand, it has allowed me to not have to focus on other things in my life that may not have been so pleasant, such as my childhood with my mother.

Escapism All of the people/things listed above were all forms of escapism for me. But as I go further, I realize that there were more. My best friend and I played with Barbies until we were 16 growing up. Yes, I feel funny admitting to that, but this is one of the ways that I coped with my reality. The intricate story lines that we would play out allowed me to escape. I could become someone who was beautiful, had the perfect body, was popular, had an amazing singing voice, was confident, had a wonderful boyfriend… these were all things that I didn’t have, and all things that I wanted.

And it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t acknowledge the role that food played into all of this. After the divorce, things were hard. I was living a life of alternating extremes. On one hand, I had my mother’s house that was full of strict rules with severe consequences resulting in physical and mental abuse. On the other hand, my dad was working three jobs to take care of me and afford to send me to private school. This meant that I was often home by myself, unsupervised.

I spent my weeks with my father dreading going back to my mother’s house, and the weeks with my mother were spent wishing I could be at my dad’s house. Food became a source of comfort, escapism and an area of my life that I could control.

Growing up, my earliest “diet mentality” that I was introduced to comes from my father trying to teach me portion control in a deli when I wanted a small bag of chips. I was probably around the age the 7. The deal ended up being that I could get the chips, but the trade off was that I couldn’t eat the whole bag. Now, this isn’t a ridiculous trade-off, and I don’t think that my father did anything wrong. I know that everything was out of concern for me and my well being, as well as trying to prevent me from enduring what he had as an chubby teenager, but it’s also the first time in my life that food became “restrictive” or a “bad thing”.

One of the thought processes behind intuitive eating is that once the “restriction” is removed from the food, the desire and the need to have that food becomes less. That “forbidden item” just becomes… food. And once it becomes “just food” the need to binge on that particular food source lessens because you know you’ll have it again. (Not saying that intuitive eating is a free-for-all, and I as I continue to learn about the process, I will continue to explain more) but I do believe that those “rules” and “restrictions” toward food (along with a cocktail of other mitigating factors) set me up for my life long relationship with it.

Now, back to this idea of finding an area of my life that I could control. As I mentioned, half of my post-divorce life was spent with unreasonable, rigid rules the other half was freedom. In some ways, food became a drug and a means of escapism.

It literally allowed me to escape because I would sneak off to the 7-11 that was several blocks away, or I would sneak off to the little convenience store by one of our favorite breakfast places. There was adventure, and excitement, a thrill in getting the food. And then when I got it, eating it released endorphins that made me feel happy and safe.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about how the only happy memories I have with my mother are surrounding food, and how food also provided me nurture and nourishment. So it served so many purposes, and really.. it did a great job. I had opportunities to try different recreational substances during this period in my life, but thankfully, I never felt the need to escape from these, because I had found my escape from something else.

What this means today After explaining all of that, someone could look at my life today and think… what could she possibly have to escape from now? And it’s true… I’m very grateful for the life I have. Is it perfect? Of course not, but I recognize what I do have and focus on that. I’ve always been a positive person and my optimism also allows me to thrive because I don’t focus on the bad.

But that’s not to say that I don’t have bad days. And when I get sick, or get into a fight with someone, or I’m stressed out at work, or stressed out because a family member is sick, or there’s a ten-thousand dollar home repair that needs to be done on that I have to miraculously make the funds appear for… I mean… the list goes on and on. And let’s be real… it’s normal life stuff. The stuff that each and everyone of us deals with every day.

That’s this stuff that still triggers what has become a subconscious reaction in my body. When there is some level of stress, be it mental, physical, emotional, and I’m sure even spiritual, my body goes into survival mode. It’s what it’s spent the last 32 years doing. And now, I have to somehow retrain that subconscious response.

It’s going to be challenging, for sure. But for the first time in my life, I’ve been gifted with an incredible amount of insight into an area of my life where I’ve been searching for answers for so long. That insight allows for a whole other level of self-awareness. I’m now realizing how deep my relationship with food runs. It’s more than a source of fuel for my body. It’s been a literal means for survival on many levels.

 *this blog post was originally posted on my My Curvy Journey blog on 4/14/2019 and moved to my Universally the Same blog.

[stdybudyblogger]

I feel lost

I haven’t posted in a while because I feel like I have nothing to say. School is overwhelming on its own; add bad mental health a job and a “” social life, and it feels like you’re drowning. I could say it 1 million times To just make something up for the sake of keeping up with the status quo and social norms. But the truth is that’s not gonna help anyone especially not myself I started box to help me and if they impact other people and that was just an added bonus. But the truth is as you get going no matter how. Your intent is no matter how much you wanna focus on yourself you’re ultimately going to be distracted by others around you.I feel lost and overwhelmed with college work and transferring to university I’m overwhelmed with the idea that I have friends who want to hang out with me but I work a full-time job while going to school full-time. Thank God I don’t have bills to pay because my parents allow me to stay with them but does that make me less of a person because I still rely on my mom and dad to help me get through my days. My mental health has been getting worse again I don’t want to eat or sleep but then again I want to sleep all the time. I don’t want to talk to friends but if I don’t I feel rudeAnd the last thing I wanna do is risk losing people I care about because my mind is in a haze. I love learning but I hate some of this homework I hate the fact that I’m learning stuff that doesn’t help me in the long run I feel ungrateful saying that since so many people want to go to school and can’t don’t give me wrong I love my school I love the fact that I get to learn but could not be more relevant to the things I’m actually going to be doing. I feel lost I work a full-time job now I love it it’s great but when I come home at four in the afternoon and feel exhausted from getting up at four in the morningWith a mountain load of schoolwork to get done. I’m lucky if I get it done by midnight and get 4 1/2 hours of sleep. Add bad mental health to that and I might not sleep at all for two or three days. I started blogs to help me but sometimes I feel like they don’t writing has always been my escape until it’s not. Why am I saying this doesn’t even matter probably not. But if you’re out there and you’re like me and you feel last maybe your job is overwhelming you or your school is getting too much maybe you feel like you should have a job but you’re onlyDoing school right now maybe you still live at home with your mom and dad and you don’t have to pay rent maybe you don’t have a car and you feel like you should because everyone else you know does – let me tell you this. It’s OK to feel lost and it’s OK to not know what you’re doing it’s OK to not be working and going to school full-time it is just is OK to be working full-time and not going to school. What you do does not define you in that sense is your attitude towards the things that you have and the things that you must do that truly define you. If you go to work every day with a good attitude and you work hardIf you do what your boss says without complaining or getting mad then I can guarantee that you’re doing a great job if you’re going to school and you don’t have a job but you’re getting good grades even if they’re not as great as you might want them to be if you’re trying your best and you’re working hard and believe me you’re doing great. If you were at a point in your life where you’re not doing school and you’re not working and your mom and dad are helping you get by it’s OK it’s a short season. Things will change in there to time. Take that time to enjoy your family and to start looking for what you need maybe you need to go talk to someone or maybe you need to look at new places to work or maybe you’re just trying to find the right degree for you it’s a season in your life you don’t need to be ashamed as long as you’re working towards moving out of that season. Maybe you don’t have a car or an apartment or other things that many of your friends have it’s OK that comes in time you’ll be all right. (to be contenued)

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Anatomy of an Ask (Entire Post)

I suspect that there’s no way within the framework of Tumblr to force people to ask things that will be productive, but I figured it might be helpful to really go into my thought process when I receive a question. This got really long. I’m making one Giant Post and then I’ll split it up as well so that both options are available.

Before you start: this is going to be really blunt. I try not to be deliberately hurtful to people who are acting in good faith, but I’m not really a warm fuzzy person in general, and I find people are not great at taking subtle hints on the internet so I’m going in with an anvil here.

Before I get the question: My MBTI knowledge was obtained through reading a lot of things both online (in which case they’re probably in my resource links), a few books (I haven’t done a huge amount of book reading so it’s mostly Was That Really Me and Gifts Differing), and a lot of practical observation.

The practical observation part has been, for me, by far the most valuable, but it does require a certain level of reflection and willingness to admit when you’re wrong. Basically: once you feel confident-ish in your ability to type other people, go out and type them and then observe their behavior, which will help you recognize behavior patterns for that type. The reason it requires reflection is because it is possible to mistype someone initially. You need to constantly ask yourself “is this person truly this type, and the stereotypes are wrong? Or did I mistype them”. Examples include: ISFP sister is actually not bad at organizing within certain parameters, but it tends to be fairly rigid and a little uncomfortable. She’s just a reasonable example of how an ISFP can develop organization skills. However, I originally thought my brother was an INFP when he was really an ENFP, and so when I realized I was wrong I had to revise both my typing of him and my understanding of INFPs and ENFPs. I originally thought my closest friend was an INTP and I’m actually still in the process of questioning that. (This is why “am I mistyped” is a useless question. You should always assume mistyping is possible).

So basically if I say I get a certain vibe from a question or interaction or story, it’s because of patterns I’ve seen from this practical observation that I might struggle to even realize I’ve seen. And there’s no way around this other than experience (ie, observation + time).

When an MBTI question arrives: is it easily searchable (I do usually check, on mobile, that a search of the obvious key term returns something useful as one of the top results - I try not to delete stuff that I’ve answered before but is hard to easily search on) or answered in the FAQ? Delete it unless there’s a good point to be made or I’m feeling particularly generous and/or snarky.

Next, mentally categorize it. Questions tend to fall into a couple of broad categories:

Questions about the theory: ideally, coming from someone who can say “I read your FAQ and I’m still confused about some of the statements regarding inferior Se, because of X, Y, and Z”. A pure theory question is pretty simple; usually it’s just a matter of directing people to a better, harder-to-find source post or providing some clarification.

Type me questions from people who haven’t typed themselves: varies, see below.

Type me questions from people who have typed themselves to some extent: also varies, see below.

“What does X look like”: I would typically like to shoot these questions into the sun because functions are broad archetypes and so while you can summarize details of a real person to an archetype it is not so easy to do the reverse. However, I limit myself to a general answer of “if you’d like me to type you or someone else provide a description” thus reducing this to a type me question.

“How likely is X combination”: I just stopped answering these on the grounds that you can look this up yourself very easily. However, usually these have an undercurrent of ‘type me’ except no information is given so there’s nothing I can do. If information is given, see the Type me posts (also tagged anatomyofanask)

What’s useful in typing?

Remember: information that is useful for typing is:

Unique: it’s okay if other people on earth share this trait, but ‘I like music’ or ‘I have morals’ are true of most humans. Make sure you describe you and not 99% of all people.

Typical of you: if you went skydiving once but normally you wouldn’t get on a roller coaster that goes upside-down you are not a thrill-seeker; you are a person who went skydiving once. Focus on your sustained and regular behavior.

From your mid-teens/adult life, and ideally recent. You want to talk about your childhood, do so with your friends or with a therapist because it’s not usually relevant. Not yet in your mid-teens? Typing is going to be really hard and it will be so much easier when you’ve had a few more years - part of why being 15 is so gloriously confusing is because it’s a time of immense growth and change. I highly recommend you focus on becoming an awesome person without trying to categorize it. MBTI has been around for over 70 years. It will be there in a couple more.

Not MBTI jargon: Avoid statements “I seem really Ne!” or “I have absolutely no Fe.” These are useless statements to me: either you’re correct in your assessment in which case contacting me is useless because you’ve already typed yourself as having Ne/not having Fe and are confident in it; or you’re not correct in your assessment but I can’t tell because you didn’t describe what you mean by Ne or Fe.

Not the stereotypical MBTI descriptions: related to the above. At this point I not only do not trust these phrases and find them completely meaningless; I also get annoyed that you’re using them and yet somehow I’m supposed to be the boring and uncreative one per stereotypes. “Good at reading people”, “very much/always in my head” and “my morals are subjective/objective” or “my logic is subjective/objective” are the top offenders. Here’s the problem. People aren’t great at being objective about themselves. People are even worse at being objective about how objective they are. Also the fact that almost all of these are skewed towards intuition means I have my doubts.

Exemplified: provide examples of your behavior. If you do this instead of using stereotypical MBTI descriptions, you will solve two of my problems at once. If you can actually explain to me why you think you’re good at reading people, I can assess if you genuinely are or if you’re projecting assumptions on people. And in general, this is what I need to type people.

Consequential: people rely on their higher functions the most when it has to do with things that, for lack of a better term, matter IRL. Which doesn’t mean you don’t bring your A game to your hobbies! But the fact is, if you drop the ball in your hobbies your life still goes on. I once tried to start a podcast and it almost immediately fell by the wayside. Was it disappointing? Yeah. Would I dream of doing this when it comes to say, my job, or my schoolwork (when I was in school) or something I had committed to that other people relied on? No. Like, if you don’t update your fan fic on time, or you kill people in video games that can certainly have an emotional effect on you and people around you. But the consequences of that are not exactly the same of not paying your rent on time, or cheating on someone in real life. So: focus on how you interact with people, how you act at work or at school, how you plan your life.

Varied: one long specific anecdote, even if it’s a thing you do regularly, is only so helpful. A couple of examples of different behaviors makes a huge difference. Two points make a line.

Type Me

(I’ve been calling this Type Me but it also applies to Type My Friend/Family Member/Arch-nemesis/Etc questions)

If you need help typing yourself, at least one (and frequently several) of the following is in play

1. You need help with understanding MBTI

a. In terms of the actual theory

b. In terms of how it shows up in the real world

2. You need help with understanding yourself

a. In terms of understanding what is your personality and what is just being a person.

b. In terms of accurately assessing your skill level and tendencies

So often I need to both type you and address that question.

If I can’t figure out the question you need answered, AND there isn’t information that’s useful for typing, then I can’t really do anything other than say “please provide more information.” If on the other hand you do provide information I can use to type you, even if I’m not sure where your source of confusion was, I can provide a typing.

Similarly, if I can figure out the question, even if you don’t have information I can use to type you, I might be able to help. So here’s how I address the questions

1.a. This is a theory question, which we already covered, but it includes a request for help in typing. Ideally you provided information about yourself that is conducive to typing help, but if you didn’t, I can direct you to resources or provide some clarity so that you can try typing yourself with that new information.

1.b. If you provided information about yourself, this is great - I can talk about your real-world behavior and how it relates back to how I’ve typed you, thus providing more people with examples of real-world behavior. If you didn’t provide information about yourself, this is more of a “what does X type look like” and it’s a bad question. Yes, I know this is frustrating, but the fact is there is a very wide range of possibilities of what X type can look like.

For both parts of question 2: if you don’t describe yourself well, it’s game over. I can’t do anything, because the (main) issue isn’t that you need help with understanding MBTI to type yourself; you need help understanding yourself, and I don’t know you other than what you provide in the question.

2.a. This is again a case of ‘if you’re young and have limited experience, socialize a little and wait and try typing again in a couple years.’ But no matter what, please try to interact with people more, take a neuro or psych class, log off for a bit, and generally get some kind of sense that most people are more invested in their interests than in boring tasks, act differently with their parents than with their peers, or whatever. Meet a person. You know how they said you can make more friends by being interested in other people than trying to get other people interested in you? You can learn more about your personality by learning about other people than spending time alone on the internet.

2.b. This is fair. This is an acknowledgement that objectivity about one’s self is really hard. This is also why stereotypical MBTI descriptions are pretty useless, because instead of letting me, a third-party who doesn’t really know you, try to assess your skills, you’re just saying “I’m great at reading people”. So if you’re trying to ask this kind of question, it is absolutely vital that you provide the best description you can. Put a modicum of effort into it. Draft a question in Google Docs and edit it to make sense instead of saying “sorry if this doesn’t make sense”.

[hufflepuffwannabe]

Interview with @studyblr

@studyblr was kind enough to give me some of her time to share about her experiences here in the studyblr community. Rachel radiates kindness and quiet wisdom, and this place just wouldn’t be the same without her, right? I really wanted to get to know her better and figured the rest of the world ought to, too.

me: Well, I think everyone is dying to know how you got your URL. What's the story behind it? Rachel: So, I am a very night-active person, thus being on tumblr at about 2 am on a school night (setting a great example, I know). It was around December 2016, this blog being just 4 months old and still called @mujischolar. While I was absent-mindendly scrolling through tumblr I noticed one of the people I was following announced they'd be going on a hiatus. But because their URL was so popular, they wanted to give it away. So I glanced at their URL - studyblr.tumblr.com. As it was on a first-come-first-serve basis I immediately texted her, she was so so nice and after a short talk (we were mutuals) she agreed to give me her URL. I have treasured it ever since. And also, contrary to the myths, have never killed anyone for it....... ever.... ;) me: Hahaha, everyone will be relieved to know no one was murdered. Do you know the origins of the studyblr community? Rachel: Sadly, I don't, discovered the community around 2014/2015, lurking for a couple of years. Would love to know more about it. Maybe we could even set up an anniversary to celebrate the community, hehe me: When did you start becoming really active and what kinds of posts did you post? Rachel: I started becoming really active when I made this blog in August 2016. Fairly quickly I found out that my strength in this community and the main contribution would probably be my text posts! I adore writing them and seeing all of the positive reactions to them. Also, it's something that wasn't *that* popular back then, as studyblr was (and still is) mostly dominated by studyspo pictures. Occasionally I still post some pictures of my own, but my text posts are still most important to me, also the most popular kind of posts on my blog as well! me: Tell me more about your text posts. Do you have a process for writing them? What inspires you? Rachel: Sometimes they're flashs of inspiration like lightning, sometimes little rain drops that slowly unite into a bigger one. Most of my inspiration actually comes from things I struggle with myself, as a sort of self-reminder. What I also really enjoy are concept posts or "types of...." posts, as both help me to, in a way, learn more about myself as well in the process of writing them! Some of my other most popular posts are simple encouragments though, just because I think everyone needs them once in a while. Some time after I started I began having a pretty clear idea how I wanted my blog to *feel* like, the atmosphere I was trying to convey, and a huge part of that is this a cozy feeling of being accepted the way you are but still pushed to challenge yourself and grow as an individual.

me: How has the community grown and changed since you joined? Related: when did your popularity really take off, and do you think that that's helped shaped the community? Rachel: The community has definitely grown a lot and changed as well since I joined. A lot of my followers are not part of the studyblr community, for some this blog has been their first stepping stone into our little world. I've seen trends come and go, from special kinds of pens or ways of taking notes (remember when the Cornell note taking method was all everybody talked about?) etc. My blog has grown ever since I got this URL, and in the span of a year I've gained around 110.000 new followers. What I def noticed was that, to my delight, others started posting similair text posts as well, and they became much more of a part of studyblr than they were before! That made me extremely happy, also because I love reading them just as much as I love creating them. me: There are a number of members of this community who think that there is too much of an emphasis on studying to your breaking point and/or aesthetics coupled with expensive stationery. Basically, they find all of this troublesome and unrealistic. What message would you give to them? Rachel: Romanticization of studying until you are basically destroying yourself is unfortunately very real in the studyblr community, and I have to admit that when I was just starting out here I caught myself thinking in these patterns as well. Much like the romanticization of mental illness or any body-damaging substances it can be incredibly harmful to think that way, and I am very glad that the general awareness for this issue is rising. Somehow, there is this idea that you are not really productive until you are stressed 24/7 and pulling one all-nighter after another. And this is simply not true. Thankfully, there are a lot of posts emerging now critically adressing this problem and debunking it as well. But there def has been a positive development, at least from my perspective, with the enhanced importance of self-care too.       Regarding the studyblr aesthetic, the notes etc: There have been a lot of people over the years in my ask-box simply not realising why one would put so much effort into their notes or their bullet journal, claiming it's unproductive and a waste of time and whatnot. But, clearly, to the people who are passionate about it, it is a hobby they are devoted to and that they enjoy.      Sure, there is always a limit -- rewriting your notes 5 times just because of a little mistake, for example. But as long as one is self-aware about the need for a balance between "I want this to look pretty" and "I need to get stuff done", I don't see a problem with it at all. As with most things, balance is key.      The "expensive stationery" part is an issue that needs to be adressed seperately, I believe. One of studyblr's main flaws is its elitism. Most posts that get reblogged are filled with Muji and Mildliners and Macbooks, with expensive scented candles etc. That's something we as a community have to deal with as well - a great way is spreading awareness esp. to baby studyblrs starting out that YOU DO NOT NEED EXPENSIVE STATIONERY TO BE A STUDYBLR, which is so so important. Another great way though is tracking a tag - mine is #lookstudyblr - where all studyblrs (and blogs and general) can post their posts to for you to see and reblog them. In that way, little blogs or blogs without many followers or with non-conventional set-ups can be supported as well me: Do you think you'll continue with studyblr into university? Rachel: I definitely will! Not too sure what I want to pursue in university, or even in what country I want to study, so this blog is a very nice constant to have haha me: Softball question: What are your favorite study snacks and drinks? Rachel: My favorite study snacks have to be strawberries or blueberries, my favorite study drink has to be (typical studyblr answer i am so sorry) either the berry drink at starbucks or the cinnamon latte thing. i forgot their names. can't even #typicalstudyblr properly, hahaha me: Harder (?) question: What motivates you most of all? Rachel: For a long time, what motivated me most was that I wanted to get accepted to Oxford University. A lot of what I did, even this blog, was part of my efforts to get in there. When I first heard back and was accepted to interview, I was naturally elated. But when I was there - I had pictured it to be so much more than it was. I had completely focused on that and only that, and seeing, when I got there, that that place might really not be for me was devastating. I didn't want to accept it at first, but when I got my rejection, I sort of knew that they just did me a huge favor. Maybe I'll re-apply next year, maybe not, but just the process of realising that there is so much more out there for me has changed me so much. After that, my main motivation changed extremely. Some would argue it's much more vague now, but it gives me the amount of freedom I need: I sincerely want to make a positive impact. Through this blog, through my studies, through my job. I won't lie and say finding something else to motivate you after having something so definite for so long wasn't hard, but I believe this "search" I was going through and in a way still am was such a big part of me, growing as a person. And I am so so glad that my blog is growing and changing with me. me: What would you like to say to baby studyblrs that you don't think has been said before or enough? Rachel: To baby studyblrs I would like to say that you should learn to put yourself first. I believe a lot of people who join the studyblr community are too eager to prioritise their goals, schoolwork or other people before themselves. (Of course it doesn't apply to everybody here, just to a majority, especially when you look at people who are just starting out). Learning to put yourself first is one of the best decisions you can make, and also one of the hardest. Put yourself first, and don't let others define you. Don't let the fact that you don't have expensive stationery define you, or that you dislike the typical studyblr aesthetics, or that bad grade, or that one person's opinion. I'm not saying to ignore every advice anyone ever gives to you, but be aware of yourself and your situation. There's no use in lying to ourselves, it won't make anything better anway, sadly. me: Last question: how has studyblr shaped your life? Rachel: Even if I tried, I don't think I could sum up the ways in which studyblr has truly shaped me, as it is such a big part of my life now. It helped immensly with self-awareness, self-confidence and self-care, as well as connected me to so many wonderful people, I'll always be so grateful for all of this.