#when i went to get my license renewed (this year)

[wickedsmille]

broken and still breaking

uhhhh, this is a little fic technically titled Angsty McAngst Pants Angst in my notes because Jason goes to his Re-Welcoming/It's A(n Alive) Boy! gala then gets triggered into a PTSD episode of dying which Tim helps him through. It was SUPPOSED to be gen but then they started flirting and bantering so. Welp.

Buyer beware cause I haven't beta'ed this, aforementioned PTSD episode, mild depictions of blood and injuries and what nots.

Alright then *thigh slap*

If it weren’t for the overwhelming feeling of being settled in his own skin, Jason would’ve told Bruce to fuck a cactus for offering to make Jason Peter Todd a real boy again. On principle alone he nearly said no. Besides, creating aliases is fun. James Austen, John Red and, to be nothing if not a mature adult with refined tastes, Dick Dickins. So many others, too. He could get the utilities at a new safehouse hooked up under Stephen Wolfe’s name then turn right around and renew Emmerson Bronte’s license at the downtown DMV.  

See? Being legally dead has allowed him room to express himself creatively in a way that has nothing to do with experimental ammunitions and testing the limits of the human body. One might even say it’s a healthy passtime. Sort of. Relatively speaking, okay. He’s not a perfect person, wouldn’t even dream of entertaining the thought. Not when he’s had so much practice turning the inside of someone’s skull into a modern day Picasso. 

But he’s been trying. Is trying. 

So, rather than testing the integrity of Bruce’s dental implants, Jason bit his cheek so hard it bled, swallowed back every bitter, snide remark dancing along his tongue and nodded tightly. He can’t think about the way Bruce deflated after. How his eyes went soft and the weight of the cape and cowl fully slipped off to reveal an infinitely exhausted but relieved Bruce Wayne, Failed Father Extraordinaire. If Jason does, he might ask himself what it was all for anyway and if any of it really ever mattered. Those kinds of thoughts lead to nothing but self-imposed isolation and self-destruction. 

He’s definitely regretting his decision as his gaze scans over the crowded ballroom of the Grand Hotel in downtown Gotham. A sea of opulence swims below the upper landing he has stalled out on. Men and women stand around in circles, chatting one another with plastic smiles etched into their faces. The sound of faked laughter grates, making his jaw clench and his teeth grind together. Wouldn’t it be just his luck that the food tables are all the across the room.

“Ha, ha, ha. Oh my, this little thing?” a woman simpers loudly at the bottom of the stairs. “Why, it was my mother’s.” She fingers the delicate gold chain around her neck. On the end is a diamond large enough it could feed a family of four in the Alley for a couple years.

A man across from her, entrenched in his own conversation partners, tips his head back and holds his belly as he chortles. “Mr. Campbell, you’re in luck! I have a penthouse in uptown and a condo on the westside and they’re alright but, if you’re looking for a sound investment, I suggest getting a cabin or three in the Northwest. Best decision I ever made!” he says blithely like there aren’t families and children sleeping in their cars because every apartment building is leased up and the list for voucher programs are thousands long.

Jesus fuck, he did not miss this.

Being a Wayne again means he gets the horrific honor of taking a half-step into the limelight. At first, Bruce wanted to do a full spread. Interviews and press conferences, staged sightings by the paparazzi and several welcoming events. Jason promptly shut him down by threatening to find every copy of his adoption papers and burning them. He’d rather chew off his own arm and beat Bruce with the appendage than do any of that. The compromise? A single gala as a re-introduction then Jason could fade into the background once more. 

So long as you don’t cause a scene, Bruce had said sardonically, knowingly. Bastard.

With the implied threat to his privacy, Jason has smartly decided to be on his best behavior. Even though the simple, black suit he’s wearing feels too tight and too hot. Though his hair is stiff from all the product in it. Despite the shiny leather shoes pinching his toes. No matter the way he feels like everyone is staring at him even if they’re not. 

Sure, quite a few of the guests are surreptitiously staring, thinking they’re oh so clever with the way they side-eye him before quickly looking away. They’re subtle, or so they think. It’s not like everyone is facing him, gazes boring into him. He almost thinks that would be better. At least he’d have a good reason to sneer and dip out scot free. Would it really be a scene if he were to loudly trip coming down the stairs? He’ll feign embarrassment at drawing attention to himself if it means he can back out. 

An elbow bumps into his side, making him jolt. Jason’s head whips around, intending to give whoever has invaded his personal space a thorough tongue lashing until he sees Tim. Calm, cool, collected Tim holding two champagne flutes, one held towards Jason. He’s smiling softly with his head tipped to the side in an unspoken question. The gold and white of his corset vest contrast well with the black of the rest of his suit and make the blue-gray of his eyes pop without washing him out. Tim would look right at home if he were down on the floor swimming with the other sharks. Goddamn him for fitting in so well.

“I’ll back you if you want to leave,” Tim tells him. “Due to your violent bout of diarrhea and uncontrollable gas.”

Snatching the offered glass out of Tim’s hand, Jason drains the entire thing in one go. “I hate you,” he murmurs miserably, only partly meaning it. Then he snags Tim’s own glass and downs that as well. 

A thoughtful frown makes its way onto Tim’s face. “I’d be careful. Getting tipsy won’t actually make this any easier to navigate.”

“Stop talking like you know me.”

Tim shrugs amiably. “I might not know you as well as I’d like to but I know them.” 

He inclines his head towards the dodos guffawing over their latest insider trading power plays and gossiping on whose husband is sleeping with which of the help. Or lamenting on how finicky children can be, not realizing their kids aren’t really the problem because they’re capacity for introspection matches the frigidity of their hearts somewhere below absolute zero. Jason tries very hard to not bite and snarl at Tim since he’s one of the blue bloods. Born and bred for the hoity-toity bullshit with a silver spoon shoved so far down his throat he must’ve been gagging on it. 

Tim isn’t like that and never has been, he reminds himself. In fact, for all the ways Jason had to show Tim how to effectively coupon stack and explain why he microwaves his sponges, Tim is as far removed from the vultures and roaches and leeches they’re surrounded with as he could be given his upbringing. For one, Tim isn’t a total douchebag. Unthinking at times and eccentric, but not outright malicious. He can be surprisingly sweet like when he requests Alfred make one of Jason’s favorite foods when he knows Jason will be coming over for dinner or upgrading Jason’s helmet when his own tech know-how fails him without Jason ever needing to ask. 

The guy is a squishy ball of good intentions wrapped in a deceptively tiny package which has never, not once, held him back from putting dusty, crusty board members and hardened, violent crooks in their place. Once he’d had a chance to actually get to know Tim, Jason found himself feeling grateful. Bruce didn’t concede to just anyone stepping into Jason’s pixie boots. At least he went for the best. 

“If you knew me any better you’d have a key to my apartment and a drawer in my dresser,” Jason drawls, steering the conversation away from the swarm of jewels and silks he wants to pretend doesn’t exist.

“I already have a key to your apartment,” Tim points out. 

Rolling his eyes, Jason stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, but you come over so I can make you buy pizza and kick your ass in Mortal Kombat. Not fucking you into the mattress and making you breakfast in bed after.”

“You never asked, did you?” Tim asks him slyly.

Just about every coherent thought in Jason’s mind fucks off into some deep, dark hole. Leaving him a flustered mess with vague recollections of waking up sticky and wanting. So his witty, top of the line comeback is, “Nope.”

“Eloquent as always,” Tim laughs, patting Jason lightly on the shoulder like he didn’t just break Jason’s brain. “We should get down there before they start chattering about how egregiously anti-social we are.”

All the clamboring what if’s and could be’s get ruthlessly, shamelessly smothered and die a quick and violent end so he can get himself back on task. “I don’t want to,” Jason says petulantly to drive the conversation back to safer, calmer waters.

Now it’s Tim’s turn to roll his eyes. Huffing, he points at Damian to the far left where he’s leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed tightly. “Suck it up. If he can do it, so can you. Now come on.” 

Tim holds out his elbow which Jason bats away with a scowl. He can make his own way down the stairs, thanks. Telling Tim as much, Jason nearly trips over himself when Tim challenges him to put his money where his mouth is. There’s a reason Tim is his favorite because it’s just the thing he needs to unstick his feet and get him moving despite the way his skin prickles the closer they get to the main floor. Although Tim had been joking when he volunteered to escort Jason down, he finds himself wishing he’d taken Tim up on it if only for the grounding comfort of a familiar touch as the smooth soles of his shoes land on the polished floors. 

Graciously, Tim does see him through the crowd to the food tables Jason had been eyeing up. As a kid, they were an oasis. It’s hard for others to talk to you when you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while chewing as slowly as possible to delay and discourage conversation. Plus, it’s good. A little bland because the chefs have to cater to the tastes of so many, watering down their usual Michelin star flair to a point that probably pains them. But still good in spite of it being pretentious.

Once satisfied Jason can be his own keeper no longer in need of a handler, Tim drifts off. He switches over from the insufferable geek Jason has come to like to the smoothed, glacial veneer of a corporate socialite. The totality of the shift leaves Jason reeling. One thing he’s never understood, no matter how much he puzzled through it and tried to emulate it, is how Bruce and Tim can switch between the two extremes so flawlessly. It’s like trading out coats for them. A flick and a swish then, poof, like magic they’re entirely new people. What that says about their psyches and the inherent fault in their neural wiring is something he shies away from.

Jason tucks in with gusto when an older woman in an inappropriately low cut halter dress and coiffed hair sets her sights on him and starts striding over. With nimble fingers, he loads up the plate his grabs and shoves whatever in his mouth, hoping the age-old trick still works despite being over a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier. 

Score because it totally does. She wrinkles her nose at his puffed out cheeks and actually sniffs haughtily when he chews purposefully with his mouth open. He even smiles, masticated mush on full display, and waves cheekily. The woman redirects her steps to take her closer to where Dick is holding court about twenty yards out. She joins the gaggle of women and men magnetically drawn in by Dick’s natural charm. He doesn't quite fit like Tim and Bruce do but he has his natural personality to make up the difference.

Unlike Jason. Which he has no problem with. He’ll take himself, authentically cynical and caustic and brutally honest, over being a fake fuck any day. 

The bacon wrapped, maple seared figs don’t settle well as more people attempt to approach him. Even for him, there’s only so much he can eat. Rapidly, he’s reaching his limit. The twisting viper pit turning his stomach inside out isn’t helping his appetite either. So far he’s been successful in warding people off but his stomach flips, signaling his need to find a new method to avoid unwanted advances and carelessly hurtful words. 

Setting his plate aside, Jason casts his gaze out across the crowd once more. Being tall does have its advantages. Like being able to pinpoint where exactly the rest of the family is and relatively what they’re up to. Dick is wholly unaccessible with the amount of attention he’s getting. He can keep the center stage, Jason is trying to move behind the curtains. Bruce is similarly front and center with his own gathered horde so that’s a no go even if he thought he could handle it without fisting Bruce’s collar and dunking him into the champagne fountain in the corner. 

Damian is somewhere. It’s a toss up whether Jason just can’t see the shrimp or he’s faded into the shadows to either eerily stare out at the crowd from a corner or making his way towards a Bat bothole to go on an ill-advised patrol. As helpful as it would be to have Cass, she’s no better handling these things than Jason so Stephanie has been guiding her. Her attempts at bumbling but Stephanie is nothing if not determined and relentless. It’s why Jason likes her even though he hates those qualities, a reflection of his own, weaponized against him. Duke, the lucky duck, got to skip.

Then, there’s Tim. He’s making amiable small talk with a couple to Jason’s left. They’re too far for Jason to make out the words but close enough Jason feels comfortable weaving between bodies to reach him. So what if it makes him needy or weak. Everyone has to take a knee from time to time and he doesn’t need anything more than a temporary crutch to get him through the next hour or two before he can leave without causing a fuss. Tim is crutch-shaped. It makes sense. 

Saddling up to Tim’s side, Jason inserts himself into the conversation. The man speaking stutters, words petering out as he looks up, up, up at Jason. Jason flashes what he hopes passes as a polite smile. He’s not sure it works when the guy recoils minutely. The woman, his wife Jason assumes if the three-figure rock on her finger is anything to go by, gives him a flat grimace he assumes is supposed to be a smile.

“Jason, it’s good to see you. Enjoying the party so far?” Tim asks him, voice level and almost serene.

“It’s a blast,” Jason deadpans, bumping his hip into Tim’s as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“It is a fabulous venue,” the woman says. “We were delighted to get the invitation and haven’t been disappointed yet.”

Yet. Goddamn. He forgot just how snippy these people could be. 

“I’ll be sure to pass your praise along to our event planner,” Tim replies so Jason doesn’t immediately make an ass of himself. “By the way, Jason, this is John Anders and Mary Ann Anders. They’re the founders and CEOs of Anders Packaging. Wayne Enterprises is lucky to call them partners.”

“Jason Wayne,” Jason introduces himself. He holds out his hand which John hesitates to take but social norms win out. Jason makes sure to squeeze on the side of too tight and doesn’t stop till John winces. He goes easier on Mary Ann though, maybe he shouldn’t have because she digs her nails into the skin of his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

When Tim’s hip bumps into him, Jason reads it as the warning it is so he backs off. Tim takes back the reins of the conversation to steer them away from Jason himself. The transition back to dull, unassuming chatter is easy when Tim is the one leading. The tension from John drains away as he falls under Tim’s spell. Jason does feel some small amount of respect for Mary Ann as he notes she isn’t as enamored with Tim’s performance as her husband is. She gives Jason a shrewd look as if to say I see you both, I’m watching you and, yeah, he kind of likes her and hates that he does. But she probably hates him right back since she has to like him. Or pretend to.

Jason rises to Mary Ann’s challenge when she narrows her eyes at him. It becomes a game where they both adopt an air of cordial confidence whenever Tim and John are looking. Then they cast it aside for suspicion and mutual distaste when the other two aren’t. It’s kind of fun. If Mary Ann doesn’t think so, sucks to suck. Jason has had an entire lifetime of pissing people off by doing nothing but existing to hone his craft of being a nuisance without lifting a finger.

Tim looks at him askance, drawing Jason away from his silent feud with Mary Ann and back to the conversation. 

“I thought it would be fun,” John laments ruefully.

“You’re adventurous,” Mary Ann says as she pats his arm. 

“I suppose so,” John replies, giving her a small, genuine smile. “I certainly have a better appreciation for remodelers! Doing the kitchen in our summer house? Never again! I was trying to knock out the cabinets with a hammer for ages until Mary Ann grabbed me a crowbar.”

Jason’s blood runs cold. He abandons the game with Mary Ann in favor of racking his mind for a graceful, or graceless if necessary, way to leave. 

The mention of a crowbar sinks its hooks into his mind, making it run syrupy slow. Too slow to slink away before John keeps going. 

“Now that did the trick! It still took me an hour but, whoo, let me tell you. That is a workout,” John laughs. The arm he has around Mary Ann’s waist unwinds and he takes a step back to give himself some more room. Then he’s miming swinging his arm back and forth. High above his shoulder then down and across, grunting from the effort and smiling from the humor of it all. “You have to throw your shoulder into it. Really get into it. It was fun!”

John laughs again but it’s not John. Not to Jason. It’s too high, too loud. The sound echoes in his head and amplifies with every reverberation. He would cover his ears if he knew it would do any good but it’s all in his head. Now would be a good time to leave, decorum be damned. But his feet feel rooted to the spot and every muscle is coiled so tight he’s shaking with it and immobile. Jason's hands start trembling as John keeps going. On and on and on about his skill with a crowbar. Proud of himself for it. 

In horror, Jason watches as John’s smile keeps curving and twisting into a rictus grin so wide it should be splitting his face but it isn’t. The white straight line of his teeth shift and dull to a pale yellow while all the color of his skin drains away to an unnatural white. The charcoal gray of his suit bursts into color Purple and green and red. So much red. John’s hand isn’t empty anymore either. Now he’s swinging a real crowbar with the end of the metal dented from where he used it to shatter Jason’s femur and tailbone. 

Jason watches as John as the Joker pummels Jason as Robin right there on the ballroom floor. A deep dark red spreads out across the ground. Jason as Robin screams and pleads. Snot and blood and a broken jaw making it difficult to form words but he knows what he said. He was calling out for Bruce. But Bruce never came and the pool of blood has spread far enough he’s standing in it and Jason can’t do this anymore - 

He’s off like a shot. All the restless, animalistic panic inside him zips through his veins. His chest heaves with the effort to suck in as much air as possible but it’s never enough. There’s nothing but the jagged, wet sound of him breathing and the pounding beat of his pulse in his temples. Maybe someone is yelling his name, too, but it’s muffled like someone is holding his head underwater. The elite, esteemed guests gawk at him as he flies by and he doesn’t understand why they aren’t in a tizzy about the dirty warehouse they’re in. 

When he reaches the door, it isn’t locked with a winding length of chain. His hands scramble to clutch the knob of the door but it opens easily under his hands. Over the din of the crowd behind him, Jason can hear the tick, tick, ticking of the bomb. But the door leads to another warehouse so he sprints to the next door, hopping over the puddle of blood on the concrete. The next door opens without issue but it leads into a small, black hole. Yawning and bottomless and hungry.

“Get out!” someone commands from close behind him.

On instinct, he lashes out but whoever it is isn’t having it. Their arm smacks into his wrist, redirecting his punch. Then there’s hands on his chest, shoving him back and into the void. He expects to be falling endlessly but his ass crashes into the ground, arms buckling from the way he catches himself to keep from toppling over completely. He hasn’t even completely settled on the floor before the darkness is chased away by a bright cascade of light from above. Shadows lurk in the corners, wriggling and writhing like a mass of worms and maggots. 

“Jason, Jason,” someone says urgently. They try again gently, “Jay.”

“I need you to breathe with me,” they say, tone brooking no argument. It’s all a serious, low tone Jason can hear clearly over the he ha, ha, HA in his head. “You need to follow me. Fuck. Okay, okay. Can I touch you?”

He wants to understand who it is crouching next to him but the black spots dancing across his vision, the blurry edges of it, keep him from piecing it together. A hand encircles his wrist and he tries to twist away from it. They’re strong though. Stronger than he thought they’d be. His hand is planted firmly on a plane of smooth, warm fabric. The fingers around his wrist pop lose and disappear completely so he moves his head up until the pads of his fingers brush against skin. 

Then he latches on and squeezes with his teeth bared and all the higher thinking of a cornered wolf spurring him on. 

“J-Jay,” they choke out. “Alright then. Feel that?” 

They draw in a comically large breath around the pressure Jason is putting on their windpipe. The pulse beneath his fingers is thumping hard and quick but controlled. Up and down their throat presses against his hand. Unconsciously, he finds himself mimicking the movement. His focus narrows down to the rhythmic movement of their throat and the stuttering attempts his chest is making to imitate it. 

“Jay,” they say faintly. 

Jason becomes aware of two things immediately. He’s in a spacious store room. It smells like a hodgepodge of herbs and spices co-mingling into something overpoweringly herbaceous. The smell is enough to tickle his nose. Several overhead lights are shining down on the packed shelves of nonperishables and Jason and Tim. Because Tim is there with him, on his knees in front of Jason with his pants rucked up and jacket rumpled. With Jason’s hand around his throat and the pale skin of his face a worrying shade of red.

Like he’s been burned, Jason’s arm snaps back. The dimples from Jason’s fingers fade, leaving red indents sure to turn a nasty purple later. Tim gasps loudly and pitches forward onto his hands. He coughs and sputters, rubs at the tender skin of his throat. Checking for any cartilage damage, Jason realizes.

He did that.

The thought has Jason leaning to the side and emptying the contents of his stomach. It’s disgusting. Everything he ate earlier comes up for an encore but its decidedly less appetizing this time around. The bitter taste on his tongue makes him gag even after he’s done. All he can smell is bile as shame wells up, threatening to muscle everything else out because he was choking Tim. Fuck the food. They can get more food. If he seriously hurt Tim, they can’t get a new Tim. 

“Why didn’t you stop me,” Jason rasps, clearing his throat and spitting it out onto the rest of the mess. Not like it's salvageable anyway. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Tim looks up at him sharply. He pushes himself back onto his haunches. Defiance draws his shoulders up and back. Out of them all, Tim has never let him get away with shit. The kid spat in his face even after Jason beat him to a pulp. Never once has Tim backed down from Jason’s misdirected anger or shown fear the times they’ve needed to play fight for the villains intent on pitting them against one another. Dick lets his guilt bleed through too much and lets him be lenient with Jason. In contrast, Bruce is as immovable as Tim but where Tim is kind and even sweet at times, Bruce is a complete and utter asshole.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Tim snarks. 

Jason really hates how little Tim values himself sometimes. Especially given Jason’s own high regard of Tim. 

“Never do that again,” Jason orders, whole body quaking with the aftershocks of his episode. PTSD, one doctor had told him. A normal side-effect of The Life, Jason had privately corrected him.  

“LIke to see you try and stop me,” Tim says, cheeky and sharp with a half cocked grin to match. 

This fucking guy.

“Can I hug you now?” Tim asks with a hint of hostility hiding in his tone. 

Jason can appreciate Tim’s innate ability to understand him and all the ways Jason would outright reject him if he were nicer about it. The contrast to Dick’s antsy need to use touch as a comfort is stark and wonderful. Grumbling, Jason nods his head at the nasty puddle of ick next to him. 

Tim rolls his eyes so hard Jason’s surprised they don’t pop right out of his skull. “Oh, yeah, like I don’t deal with worse on a nightly basis.”

“Touche,” Jason mutters. 

He scoots closer to Tim and away from the gross. His palms stay flat on the ground but Tim shuffles to fit himself against Jason, molding them together as he winds his arms around Jason’s neck. One hand buries itself in Jason’s hair. The nails scratching at his scalp break apart the gel in his hair. It kind of hurts but it keeps him present and helps chase away the jittery feeling in his limbs. The other hand splays across the broad expanse of his shoulders. This close, he has no choice but to follow the rise and fall of Tim’s chest so the quickened pace of his breathing slows to normal. 

Jason’s gut says to push Tim away and maybe even kick him in the jaw for daring to touch him. The impulse dies a quick death as warmth spreads out from his center. It’s soft and sweet and gentle. He presses his face hard into the curve of Tim’s neck and breaths in Tim’s overpriced cologne. Although he’s bigger than Tim, he feels protected like nothing can touch him in this bubble of fragility they’ve created. Finally, finally his mind goes blessedly silent and he settles back into his own skin, not the phantom corpse of a boy who lost more than he ever gained and was cut down before he ever really had a chance. 

Shifting, Jason moves so he can wrap his arms around Tim’s torso and cling tightly to the back of his suit jacket. The ribs of the corset vest flex under his hold. Aside from a quiet grunt, Tim doesn’t say anything. To be a shit, Jason makes them flex again. A warning rumble reverberates from Tim’s chest straight down into Jason’s bones, shaking out the cobwebs of memory and making him puff out a breath through his nose in a parody of a laugh. 

“How do you breathe in this thing?” Jason mumbles into the damp skin of Tim’s neck.

“Force of will and spite,” Tim tells him succinctly. 

“Anything for fashion.”

“More like anything to make Mr. Williams as horrendously uncomfortable as possible after he let slip a couple choice words to me at the last gala.”

“Your commitment to pettiness is unrivaled.”

“Have you met yourself?” Tim accuses him incredulously. 

“I don’t have a commitment to pettiness. I am pettiness.”

The sound of Tim’s easy laughter washes over Jason. He can’t help but to join in even if his own is weak and half hearted at best. Things feel less heavy than they did, less inevitable and better. So much better. Tim still hasn’t let him go and he has no intentions of releasing Tim either. 

With the silence comes the realization of what happened and how it must have looked to everyone else. Jason curls into himself, arms tightening around Tim. In an uncharacteristically small voice, he gives life to his uncertainty and shame. “Everyone saw, didn’t they?” he asks. 

Tim shrugs as much as he can in the vice of Jason’s arms. “You were more subtle than you think you were. Nothing a quick cover of explosive diarrhea won’t fix,” Tim tells him lightly. The callback and absurdity of the idea forces a bark of laughter from Jason. More subdued and serious, Tim adds, “Besides, it doesn’t matter. To hell with them. What matters is that you’re okay and everything else we can fix.”

“Trying to say I can’t be fixed?”

Making an irritated noise, Tim bops his head into Jason’s in chastisement. “I’m saying you don’t need to be fixed. You are who you are and we wouldn’t have it any other way. If it means you need more support, we’re happy to give it but you don’t need to be fixed, Jason.”

“Cool it on the soliloquy, Timberly,” Jason teases so he doesn’t start tearing up. “Ain’t nobody wants to hear your bleeding heart.”

“Charming as always,” Tim sighs, resigned, but he still hasn’t let Jason go.

So Jason smothers the poisonous voice in the back of his head whispering about Tim backing away to leave him cold and bereft, mocking him then relaxes entirely in the safe space Tim carved out for Jason between his arms.

[glass-trash-bab]

I can't say eepy around pre-schoolers this semester, they're gonna think it's an actual word that normal people use

[roboticchibitan]

I've been thinking about voter suppression since yesterday. Specifically about ID requirements to vote, because I got a notification in the mail yesterday that my license expires on my birthday and it's going to cost $129 to renew. And according to the DOL I can get a reduced fee card for $25 but it's unclear if this is a license or just an ID card. When I look around the DOL website it refers you to the department of social and health services but a search of their website turns up NOTHING about this program so I can't figure out if I can get a license for a reduced fee.

Not only that, but there's two types of ID cards in Washington, regular IDs and "enhanced" IDs. An enhanced ID is required for re-entry into the US at land and sea border crossings. Starting in 2025 it'll also be required for domestic air travel. Even if I were to get this discounted card, which may or may not be a license, if I want it to be an enhanced ID I'd have to pay an extra $7 for each year it's valid. Washington does 6 and 8 year ID cards. So if I want to be able to go anywhere by plane, I am paying at least $67 for an ID card that, again, I cannot tell if it's actually a license or just an ID.

I really wish a percentage of that $129 went towards a fee waiver for enhanced driver's licenses. I would gladly pay for that. Because this is outrageous. I could get a passport for that much money.

And you know, to me, if I just needed an ID to vote and nothing else, $25 is doable. But to some people it's not. The most vulnerable people in society shouldn't have to choose between eating and being able to vote.

Requiring ID for voting is a form of voter suppression that affects the most vulnerable in our society. The people who need the most help. Not to mention the fact that voter ID laws disproportionately affect people of color.

Expand voting access! Enable voting by mail! And while we're at it, incorporate ranked choice voting!

If you want to support efforts to expand voting access, vote.org is a bipartisan independent charity organization working on that front. They score highly on charity navigator. They also have an easy tool to double check that you are still registered to vote because there's a history of people's registrations being purged. So it's good to check and I recommend you do.

[notaplaceofhonour]

I’m going to lose my mind, I am so fucking done.

Literally everything is going wrong all at once again and again and again and no matter what I do or how much outside help I get it keeps snowballing.

like, I just got out of homelessness a few months ago—homelessness I was only in because my home state suddenly decided I shouldn’t exist—only for the rental company to never notify me renewing wouldn’t an option until the last minute, forcing me to scramble to find a new place, all while packing up a life I just unpacked, and still having to work a full time job.

—a full time job I hadn’t been able to do for months prior because my license was suspended for unpaid tolls

—tolls that only went unpaid because I never received the notices—because I had been homeless for months—but that I resolved as soon as I could.

and I still hadn’t even financially recovered from all of that when I was suddenly in the position of needing to pay an extra month’s worth of rent for a deposit, while also working less because I had to take time off to search for a new room.

I was fortunate enough to have a community of people help me out enough to just barely afford that, but then that fell through because every time I would spend weeks talking to people and checking out room after room, and getting all the way to the finalization process, I’d get ghosted or dropped without explanation or the person would agree to something only to go back on it

so now I’m homeless, and I have to drop a couple hundred out of my budget that was *supposed* to go towards rent on a storage unit & eating out because I don’t have any other option, all while having to move around every night & drive 30 miles out of the city to find somewhere it’s even legal for me to sleep, and just barely making any progress filling back up the financial hole all of this has left

only to now have undefined potential car trouble that the mechanic says isn’t there but keeps popping up

aaaaaand now my primary source of income just got locked because they did a new unnecessary background check on me & found out my license had been suspended earlier in the year—nevermind that it was resolved months ago & they know it’s been cleared because my report literally says my license is valid—meaning I’m homeless AND unemployed

and I’m dealing with all of this while trauma from the fallout of covid and october 7th and losing friends and being a fucking refugee in my own country bc of Florida deciding to criminalize my existence.

I can’t even get my head above water for two seconds before another shitstorm pushes me under again.

[bomberqueen17]

who let me out

Most of the time I spend on Tumblr has been taken up in writing these Aubreyad book recaps so I haven't been talking about my own life but there's not a lot to say.

However!

I am making a voyage to England next week which is extremely exciting, and yes I'm going to see the museum exhibit about that archaeology dig I was so excited about. I have been so stressed lately that I have barely thought about this and in fact last night I finally was like "do i need like. socks n underwear for this trip. idek." and i haven't even looked at weather reports so I don't know what clothes I need. But I did live in the UK for a while once so I'm fairly confident that my good raincoat and new waterproof boots will be a good start towards an autumn wardrobe.

So I hope to talk about that more, coming up.

Meanwhile, rambling about personal life stuff

The last stint at the farm was so fucking stressful. I had to work the market sometimes, which means a full day of work on Saturday. We had so much work to get through, and several people who help us weren't available, so we had to do it all ourselves, and that meant some ten-hour days, meant some exhausting slogs. At the end I was like "do you know what I'm not going to do while I'm on vacation?" "no, what" "ever touch raw chicken." I singlehandedly had to package like 1000 pounds of raw chicken in two days, after having packaged 200 whole chickens the day before. I was just so tired of the way raw cold chicken feels in my hands. Ugh ugh ugh.

I got so stressed I just wasn't sleeping, which sucked. Oh, I'd get into bed, and I'd fall asleep at my normal time-- usually around 10pm-- and then I'd wake up at 2am and that was it, I was up for the day. I tried various things-- went to bed at 9, woke up at 1-- lay there pretending to sleep-- got up and wrote-- got up and walked around-- one night I watched the entirety of the Master & Commander movie from 2003 on YouTube. Why not! I did remember some of it from 20 years ago, how funny.

(My dad liked that movie. His favorite thing to do during movies was to quibble about historical inaccuracies. But this movie had so much fanservice for reenactors in it that he was quietly delighted. His quibble was that the violin and cello duets were too good, they should've recorded amateurs. He had a point.)

Anyway. I was researching various methods of helping one sleep-- the only one at my disposal was weed gummies and I spent one very miserable night just lying there high and bored and not sleeping and wasn't totally sober when morning came and that fucking sucked. I commute on foot or I never would have risked it, but being very slightly still high and exhausted and trying to do repetitive physical work was really, really dispiriting.

but we got everything done. In the end. And I left. And once I got home I went to sleep and I have not had really any appreciable trouble sleeping since. I can even nap, sometimes!

Heck.

One of the things I'd meant to take care of while I was at the farm was that of course on my birthday, my fucking driver's license expired. On the one hand, thank you DMV, it used to be that everyone's license expired on the same day, so you'd have to go wait in massive lines to get it dealt with. Now it's... not evenly distributed exactly, because people's birthdays are a random distribution, but it's a perfectly logical and reasonable way to organize expiration dates. But it meant that in the midst of this exhausting miserable stint of work when I didn't have time to do anything really fun for my birthday (don't cry for me, my mom made me a cake and my BIL bought me ice cream treats) I also was consumed with angst about needing to renew my license. i was so sure they'd yell at me because I hadn't renewed before it expired-- but they wanted me to do an eye test, and I could not, could not coordinate that, I'm overdue for an optometrist appointment by several years and I just could not fucking make it happen.

So I went to the DMV yesterday and was like "i both want to renew this license and upgrade it to the enhanced version since that will be required for planes soon" and they were like "we need both your passport and your social security card and two proofs of residency." and i was like you need the social security card and proof of residency to get the passport. and they were like yeah but we need all four things too. so I went back home with the form and found the various necessary proofs, but then I was able to make an appointment to go back. Great!

(They say, "make an appointment online!" but if you look up the DMV website there's nowhere to do it, and if you go to the website of that branch of the DMV there's nowhere to do it. Want to know why? Because it's not through the DMV it is through the county clerk's office. Now U Know: Go to the county clerk's office and navigate to their section on the DMV. It's separate! Who fuckin knew! Now you do! [In my case this was erie.gov because that is my county, but it may vary for you and if you are not in new york state i have no advice for you.]

All having an appointment means is that you are in a separate queue to be seen, which is likely faster than the general pool but may not be. Still, I thought it was a good idea.

And then it was early for my appointment and I was getting my shit together and I had my social security card and an old W-2 with my address and social security number and my old license with my address on it and for some reason I thought I could use my checkbook but that's not what they mean by a cancelled check but whatever. I had just a random pile of shit. And

where was my passport

where is my passport?

i'd had it in my pocket but i was sure i'd removed it from the pocket and put it into my purse. but it wasn't in my purse. "did you see it inside the house," asks dude patiently, who also is prone to losing shit and who knows me very well. "I don't know," I have to answer. "I remember putting it in my purse and it isn't there." I search the place I put my purse a thousand times, I go through the desk where I was sitting to collect the other proofs but i knew, I knew I had not brought it in there. Time is slipping away, I will miss my appointment. God time is slipping away and I can't find the thing. I ransack the house. I finally run out to the car, did I leave it on the seat in the car? It is not in the car.

In desperation, as it is fully time to leave the house and I will be late if I don't, I gather up all my other papers and go out to the car. "I will just go," I say, "and ask them, did they find it, because that is the last place I am absolutely sure I had it." Because the woman had looked at it to see if I had my social security card between the pages. And she'd handed it back to me. But my memory is such that the rest of what I did is not certain; I remember taking it, I remember putting it into my pocket, but this might be a story I am telling myself. This is the way in which I am a very good liar, because I do not remember things very well, and my well-honed abilities as a storyteller mean I am very, very good at instantly constructing what it would make the most sense to have done, and telling that story even to myself. But. here's the horrible truth: i don't know if it really happened that way. Many things I have witnessed, important things, I remember the story of but I'm not entirely certain they happened that way. Any story I tell may be fictionalized, and I usually dont' know it.

So anyway.

Got out to my car and there on the ground in the road (I am parked in the street) there is my passport lying next to the driver's side door of the car. When I had checked the car earlier, I had only gone to the near side, the passenger side, and looked in the window. It had never occurred to me that my memory of putting it into my purse might have been me just setting it on my purse and it not going in, which is clearly one hundred percent what happened.

So that was. A fucking wild ride, and I did not cry but only because I was too overwhelmed. I made it to the appointment and I could not hear the very nice clerk very well so I kept nodding at her in blank incomprehension and then not doing what she'd asked me to do. But this is the thing-- if you think of the most brutally competent people on the entire face of the planet Earth you might be tempted to imagine like, IDK, Marines or something, but that would be wrong, it is the clerks at the DMV. They will Get It Done, whatever the fuck it is, and they will NOT put up with your shit, but they will also not be mean to you. They will not usually waste time in smiles or gratuitous displays of humanity, but they are never cruel, they are implacable and pitiless but they are fair and they will help you and they will not smile about it but they will tell you which option to tick off on the form so that you don't have to pay a bunch of extra money, and they will be understatedly kind if you are frightened, and they will calmly and impassively repeat their instructions until they penetrate your uncomprehending skull, and you will get what you need to get because this is deadly serious and they are the kind of bureaucrat that actually make the world go round. It is not sunshine and rainbows but it will absolutely get done even if it takes months and years.

Anyway there's some kind of divinity in low-level bureaucrats who actually have to talk to frightened people, I tell you what.

The only time my clerk smiled at me was when I didn't hear her and she had to repeat that the screen was asking me if I wanted to register to vote, which is an automatic part of all their transactions. "Oh, no," I said, "I'm already registered," and she said "then press no," and I said "I do really appreciate the reminder though," and she smiled at that.

(They also ask you to enroll as an organ donor. NYS is an opt-in state, and many people just don't opt in; opt-out states have much higher enrollment for obvious reasons. Please opt in unless your religion or beliefs proscribe it! There are never enough organs and your grieving family will almost never remember to opt you in at the moment of extremity. You could save so many lives, and improve so many others. This PSA brought to you by someone who spent the pandemic lockdown in the home of a member of the local hospital's liver transplant team, who was so busy because all the New York hospitals had shut down their transplant facilities in order to turn the ventilators over to Covid patients, so everyone in New York who was getting a liver was getting it in Rochester. From my guy's team. So it was a stressful time. But I am successully re-enrolled as an organ donor. I am quite sure I already was one but the only two options were Yes or No so I checked Yes.)

Anyway I have so much to do and am so burned-out that I'm repeatedly getting stuck staring at things in odd rooms, so. We'll see how this goes. I have five days left to get ready for this trip wish me luck.

[sapphireswimming]

Oh my word I just met the most marvelous lady on my way out of work tonight

Once I got to the edge of the parking lot, we did that thing where the driver and pedestrian both wave at each other to go first for a while. I eventually went, but then she called me back over

Since I work on a college campus, it's not uncommon for visitors to ask for directions or confirm where they can park. Sure enough, she was looking for the music building

Her grandson played drums (and maybe the xylophone? definitely more percussion and, since he'd also asked her for her old piano music, I'm betting some other instruments as well) and asked if she had any plans today. When she said she didn't, he said, oh yes she did - she should come to his performance

To be fair, he emailed directions and a map of campus, but it still took me a while to decipher which building the concert was actually going to be in. We made small talk for a minute before I pointed her in the right direction but could tell she wasn't entirely confident about getting there so I offered to put my stuff in my car and walk with her

She said that wasn't necessary - she was grateful for the help I'd already given and would just look for a nearby handicapped parking spot. There were a couple in the section we were in, but I couldn't remember if there was one in the tiny section closest to the music building, so before I left, I offered to run over and check

Run? she asked, horrified at the mere suggestion. Do you... like to run? I said no, but it was no trouble - it would be really quick and it could be my exercise for the day since, you know, people say that sort of thing is good for you

How about this, she offered, how about I drive beside you while you walk until you can see whether or not there's one over there? I said that sounds great, so we both start heading that way at a snail's pace and introduced ourselves properly

She was really glad I was the person she flagged down because I was so nice. I laughed, said I tried to be, so I was glad it seemed to be working

She admitted that she could get lost driving anywhere, but never let it stop her going to new places anyway. I said my grandma was the same way, but always made friends because she'd just knock on people's doors and ask for directions. Always got where she was going to in the end. We agreed that they would have liked each other, if my grandma hadn't passed away a couple years before

She gave me her condolences and asked how old my grandma was when she died. Then smiled knowingly - ninety two was an impressive age. I agreed that it was, and, in turn, asked her how old she was

How old do you think I am, she asked. I hummed and finally said, well you don't look a day over thirty two. Immediately, she proclaimed I was going in her will. Not that you'll get much, mind, but her kids would just have to deal with the new addition to the family

(she was eighty six, by the way)

We'd long since come to a stop - there was a spot reserved for the library courier vehicle but no handicapped spot in that particular corner. At some point another car circumnavigated us by driving through a narrow gap between otherwise filled parking spaces

She told me more about her family, how she raised two kids as a single mother in the city while also looking after her ninety year old mother. No washer or dryer. No driver's license - after taking a reaction test, the proctors said she'd be dead five minutes before she ever reached a brake pedal - so she didn't learn until she was in her thirties

These days, she had to renew her license every few years. She wasn't sure how she'd do at the last one, she confessed, but the evaluator was a very kind and handsome young man who looked very bored when he first got into her passenger seat, checklist in hand. So she told him if she'd been a lot younger and had a much nicer figure, she would have worn a shorter skirt. He laughed and told her she'd do just fine. She did, and he said he'd see her again in a couple years

So here she was, still enjoyed driving despite the later start in life - and it hadn't killed her yet!

When something finally got her, it wouldn't be driving, either. With two artificial knees, two artificial hips, and three rows of metal pins in her spine, she liked to joke that she was a bionic woman

Sometimes she'd tell people she was in search of a bionic man, but then admitted to me that was actually a lie. She still enjoyed living alone, even after fifty four years. When I said that it was pretty apparent that she didn't need anyone else, especially since she had herself, she gave me a fistbump

Now that we finally had a clearer view, I pointed out the music building again and asked if she knew where she was going. Crazy, she said, and we laughed

She'd get there just fine and we both knew it, so we finally said our goodbyes - she went to find a closer parking spot while I left with a much lighter heart than I'd ever thought possible when off to the UPS store to return a printer because the company doesn't print the full model number on them despite there being several different kinds per line that don't all work with the same ribbon type apparently

Anyway

Lois, I don't think you'll ever see this, but if you do, please know that you may have more zest for life than any other person I have ever met and I think our twenty minute conversation changed something inside me for the better

[naviculariis]

Okay so. Serious post time. I'm gonna put this entire thing under a cut, but I'm also gonna post some TWs here: medical malpractice, uncertain diagnoses, family trauma / drama, grief, anxiety rambles???

But I am gonna take like. A semi-hiatus, just so I can catch up on what I owe.

I haven't talked about this over here, or on Tumblr in general. Only one person who follows me here knows about this bc we're friends on another platform.

So.

Y'all have noticed, my days don't follow a set schedule. I've been unemployed since my campus suddenly closed with very little warning back in '22. Immediately after that closing, we took a small trip to MS to be with family for Christmas, and that trip was... Bad. And on the 1st of last year, I had an accident- i was taking down Christmas lights and fell and busted open my head. I had an untreated, late diagnosed concussion thar no one really... followed up on, and have had slight memory loss even now from it.

So I couldn't work until my head healed up from that.

But that's not the medical thing. That is my mother. In October 2021, my mother went in for a routine stint placement that resulted in loss of almost total blood flow to her left leg for 36 hours. They almost had to amputate, she almost died on the table twice, she was hospitalized for a year. ( we've tried the legal route, but because the doctor never admitted fault on paper, he cannot be held liable & suing hospitals is... Difficult. Even though she has permanent damage, can no longer feel anything below the knee, and has to wear a brace to walk. ) My mother already had a weak heart to begin with due to years of smoking + cardiac disease. This was the first nail, essentially. This damaged her heart... a lot.

Back to the concussion. 4 days after my concussion, she had a massive heart attack that nearly killed her. She flatlined twice on the table. It was after this that we got confirmation that she is in congestive heart failure. My grandfather died from it. It's

... It's hard. We don't know which stage she's in because her cardiologist won't tell us, but we think she's in stage 2, or maybe 3. We don't know. But because of this, I am the one who takes care of 95% of everything around the house & outside. I do lawncare, I do the planting, I do the garden. She can do a lot, still, but when her heart gets going- it's painful. So I've been her caretaker since 2021 when the initial accident happened.

My grandmother is nearly 90 and has... Many health problems but somehow is also doing better than most folks I know. She's a mystery. And my aunt had a double knee surgery but somethings wrong with her knees, and they think the surgeries rejected, so she can't get around well or drive longer than an hour away. My grandmother no longer drives & isn't renewing her license. My mother can drive, but we don't want her to unless ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.

So I'm the only one who can drive them around.

I have my own medical issues [ anxiety, depression, type 1 diabetes, cracked tailbone that never got treatment & is giving me hell for that- ]

So. Basically. A lot of my time isn't my time. And when I do have free time, I do try to write and chat as much as I can. At night, after I get mom to bed, I call my partner warner and we get a few hours together and then we have to go to sleep bc we're in a ldr & their timezone is an hour ahead of mine.

... I'm rambling.

It's just. It's hard sometimes. And a lot of the time I sort of sit on my back porch and cry because I'm doing this- physically- alone. Literally everyone else is 4+ hours away across the state. Or 9 hours south on the Gulf Coast, or 7 hours south in Louisiana.

I do try to stay on top of things the best I can, I really really do, but things slip through my fingers. I'm gonna try my best to get all caught up over this coming week, I think. But if my responses are delayed for threads, for discord messages- chances are, I'm busy with one of my lil ol' ladies.

On top of all of this, I live in a town of less than 900, the nearest city is 45 minutes in any direction, and the nearest BIG city is 2+ hours in any direction. Finding a job that isn't in Healthcare is impossible. And I have nothing against those who are in healthcare- I applaud you. But all of my trauma can be tied back to hospital ERs and any time I step foot into a hospital, I immediately have anxiety & can only hear the night we learned about my dad. So I physically cannot force myself to go into that field.

Which is... a whole other thing, this is getting too long. But I've been searching for a job for the past year and a half, have had 5 interviews, each one ended with "thanks for interviewing! However,". It's hard.

So I just.

My plate is a lil bit full. But I love writing. I love the rpc. It'sa comfort and a joy and I love meeting new friends and making new connections and I want to do this as long as I can but sometimes things get a little slow. That's all.

... anyways yeah. Semi hiatus. Cool.

[violetren]

Just took my nephew to see Strange World and it was a great movie. After so many mommy issues driven Disney movies it was fun to see a daddy issues driven one.

There is actually so much I could say on it.

Like how one of the key messages actually felt like it was aimed at the parents rather than the kids - don't let building a legacy for your kids actually get in the way of being there for your kids in the now because they are your real legacy. Alternatively: don't lose sight of the fact that your kid is just as much an individual as you are.

And the more general theme of: seek to understand and work With your ecosystem instead of destroying it because short term gains will only meet long term destruction.

Or how the whole "I'm not you dad" plotline would have been called queer coding in any other movie except in this one on of the main characters in that plot is literally already out to his family who loves him unconditionally.

Which brings me to the one scene that prompted me to make this post. Spoilers. Duh.

There is a scene maybe halfway to two thirds of the way through the movie where Ethan (our mixed race gay child protag) is talking to his long lost grandfather Jaeger (old self absorbed white man, kinda protag).

It's a catch me up on your life tell me who you are type convo so there's a pretty rapid fire "what do you do for fun, what do you like, WHO do you like?" Flurry of questions.

Ethan has a massive crush on this guy in his friend group and so when asked about romance gets all stuttery and flustered which makes Gramps push for details.

At this point my queer ass was white knuckling my seat because sure he's comfortably put to his family that has been there but Jaeger HASN'T been there he's been cut off from civilisation for 25 years and is the bad father of the movie if anyone was gonna be the homophobe it'd be him. If this had come out when I was nephews age This is where the grandad would call it a phase or get mad or play along to retain cool status and then go get mad at the parents. This would have been a dark moment of heart break.

But then with no hesitation Ethan starts gushing about this boy and how he hasn't been able to ask him out because he's so awkward around him, and the grandad's literal only response is to give him well intentioned but fucking awful advice as to how to ask this fella out (Which Ethan appreciates but also instantly calls out as an awful idea).

I unclenched purely from shock, because it went good.

It was just another light funny scene but also and this is crucial it wasn't a shoehorned in coming out moment.

There was no formal coming out, just used he/him pronouns when talking about his crush like super casual and realistic like in a scene whose actual function was to show that while Ethan thinks adventuring stuff is cool he isn't "like his grandad" (a major fear of his father's) he is instead a smart young man who is already starting to see his own path in life doesn't look anything like his father's or grandfathers.

Anyways I fully recommend everyone go see Disney's new movie about sustainable living and daddy issues just as a massive fuck you to Disney who has been making active decisions to give it less attention than recently renewed long held licenses and the 504th Christmas short from basically every franchise they own.

[gemmahale]

I'm gonna vent about clothes and shit. Tw for: body dysmorphia, frank discussion of weight gain, general brain bullshit and internalized fatphobia-ish? Idk, I pre-tagged this and kind of went off the rails at the end.

Take care of yourself and skip this one if you need to, okay? I love you. 💚

I need to pick up some new clothes. I'm down to one pair of jeans and really can't wear skirts because it's still too windy (and I have no shorts to wear underneath for the chub rub). And I'm not ready to break out my above-knee skorts yet.

I just...I'm struggling. Last time I ordered clothes, they were too big (I went off the measurements and I think I sized up out of dysmorphia). And because I was deep in depression central last time, it took me weeks to try on the clothes. Which meant that they were outside of their return policies.

I feel frumpy when I go to work. I hate it. I want to be excited about putting clothes on again. I've been wearing essentially this "uniform" for four years now.

I got looking at my license (I'm due for a renewal and soon because my birthday's coming up) and I put on roughly 40 pounds in the last four years. Sedentary job, antidepressant weight gain, having a partner that feeds me well - all things that are net positive, but have affected my body.

Well Gemma, go walking. I need shoes. I need to buckle down and get a pair of walking shoes. But that's a whole thing because I have dancer's feet and stupid ankles and stupid arches. And starting. Starting and maintaining habits are hard. (I'm at the phase where standing for 10 minutes or so hurts my hips and low back. It's bad.)

We're running what feels like a very tight budget right now. Logically, I know it's not - I can see the numbers since I run most of the household budget. But there are things that feel like they should take priority and it feels selfish to be spending it on clothes when I have perfectly serviceable polo shirts, a sweater, pair of jeans and shoes.

I don't know. The me in the mirror is not the me I want to be and trying to claw out of this pit feels insurmountable. I love my body, that's not the part I'm struggling with (okay, some days I do, but that's ..."normal-ish" as best I can tell.)

It's the effort I have to put into looking put together. I miss taking 45 minutes to get ready in the morning, putting make up on and cute outfits and feeling good about myself. I went hypercompetent femme and it worked so well for me.

But I'm worried that a big shift is going to cause some weird blowback. I'm already down a few pegs because I present female and I'm relatively young, even though I have a doctorate in plant health and a decade of experience in the green industry. I'm worried presenting "more feminine" means people won't take me seriously. (Though we already saw that at the commissioner's meeting, so maybe it doesn't really matter.)

I've always been "low maintenance" - roll out of bed, speed shower and throw on clothes. But I want to put effort into my appearance again, for my own benefit more than anything. I feel nice when I'm showered and my hair is styled and it feels like I give a shit.

Tl;dr: Gemma needs to stop being a pansy and wallowing in her feelings, buy some clothes and walking shoes and get some dopamine dressing happening.

And maybe eventually I'll get the clothes I need to donate out of the bedroom too.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Opinion  Lifelong lessons in coping with fear and humiliation

Age and time usually offer us the gift of learning to take ourselves a lot less seriously.

By Anne Lamott

+

As a woman of faith and cranky optimism, I am usually afraid of only a dozen or so things at any given time, which is a major improvement since childhood. I was the single most scared child on Earth in the 1950s. For instance, I was habitually afraid of being murdered while I slept, so I’d practice looking dead. Then the murderer would peek in my room and think, Hmmm, no one to kill in here; the little girl is already dead.

I don’t do that anymore (very often).

Now I am mostly afraid of my son and grandchild dying before me, beside which all other fears pale. I do worry about falling and breaking my hip. Gravity is a killer. I am, as we speak, on a long airplane flight, hearing a loud mechanical rattle, such as what a wing might make as it works itself off toward freedom. Also, I fear inheriting my mother’s Alzheimer’s, my father’s brain cancer, snakes, the election and the guy behind me coughing.

Maybe worst of all, I have to get my driver’s license renewed fairly soon, which means I have to take the written test. I would rather go to my periodontist and let her do the deep gum planing that she seems to enjoy. Even five years ago when I last went to the DMV to renew my license, I was full of dithery fear, bumbling around like Mr. Magoo on crack cocaine looking for the right counter. To my astonishment, I passed the test.

But now, only five years later, I have to do it again. It’s so wrong.

I notice a difference now: Back then, fear felt like a swamp inside, with Burmese pythons swimming around, patiently, so I sloshed through the DMV. With age, it is more shadowy, a sneaky menace. Ahh — gotcha! — and I’ve learned to quiet it one fright at a time.

They say that babies are born cute so that their fathers won’t eat them, and I think a similar thing takes place when we age. As we look older and somewhat more frail, we have a last chance to coax forth compassion and kindness from the world. As we surrender to the reality that, as we age, most of the systems of body and mind start to go on the fritz, we invite humility into our lives. There is no greater strength.

I am definitely running out of time, and I have (mostly) made peace with that.

When I was a child, one of the most important events of the year was the county fair. My friends and I would go on all the carnival rides and eat all the carnival food. But around 10 p.m., someone would notice the time. We’d have only an hour until our parents arrived. Suddenly we had a new clarity of purpose. We stopped wanting to ride the Gravitron or eat more cotton candy. We wanted to get one more funnel cake and then head for the Ferris wheel. This is what aging feels like. You suddenly realize you’ve got one hour left at the fair, and you get serious about how you are going to live.

Twenty-five years ago, my then-9-year-old son inadvertently helped me see the way: I was racing to an appearance at a theater on the docks of San Francisco Bay, holding a purse, a coffee, a batch of papers and my latest book, and trying to get Sam to hurry up behind me. Suddenly, some pages blew away toward some bored cormorants on the pilings. Sam caught them and then glared at me. “Mom,” he said, “you’re carrying too much, and you’re going too fast.”

You get away with this manic, burdened way of living for the first two-thirds of life, but as you transition to the third third, you start to wonder whether this pattern argues a wasted life. You slow down. You start to actually be here for your life. What a concept.

After all the losses, disappointments and deaths that every older person has experienced, we usually discover how life miraculously goes on, reshapes itself toward homeostasis and more grace than we could have imagined. We learn to look beyond our dire imaginings and trust that this miracle might just happen again. I once heard someone say that hope is faith with a track record.

Take this morning. Something humiliating happened to me professionally. It was not ideal, as I was nearly 3,000 miles and many days away from home.

I felt a kind of cold, vibrating sheet metal fear. It was way too early to wake my husband and close friends back in California. What to do? How to get through the morning, let alone my godforsaken life?

I cried for a moment, then fluffed up the despair with some rage and plans for revenge, which is the Christian way. This steadied me.

Then I remembered something: Deep breath! Oh, right — breathe. Get outside and look up. I dressed and raced out.

The morning’s icy blue sky told me that even though it was very, very cold, the blue was burnished by the sun and was an invitation. More warmth and light was on the way. I usually love the mysticism of clouds more than what I sometimes call the sky’s tyrannical blue, but some days you just can’t beat the brightest blue.

George Saunders said that what he’s learning as he ages into retirement is that “kindness is the only non-delusional response to everything.” I stroked my shoulder like the best mom, who knew how to keep the little patient comfortable.

Next, an overly large, gloriously unhealthy breakfast. Sometimes you need to lift off and fly, but sometimes you need ballast.

Back inside, no longer gasping like a fish on the dock, I picked up the 200-pound phone and risked waking my husband. He was apoplectic on my behalf and then helped me with my plans for vengeance — snake attack, of course, and hemorrhoids. Next I called my Jesuit friend Tom Weston. He said I had to arrange for a burnt offering at my next destination, to appease the ancient Canaanite gods. (They love barbecue.) Also, that the god of his understanding is very willing to help Protestants, most of the time.

His love made me a bit teary, but I found myself laughing with him.

Age and time usually offer us the gift of learning to take ourselves a lot less seriously. We smile ruefully at ourselves more often. And laughter is the Dippity-Do of the spiritual life, jiggly at first and then holding us firmly. The wiggle and jiggle play with your toxic internal attempts to control life, loosening the membrane between you and the moment, you and the ocean, you and your armored intellectual head; you and me. The hold held me like a rock.

[beardedmrbean]

The FBI is reportedly probing misconduct allegations regarding Dolton, Illinois Mayor Tiffany Henyard after a local business owner claimed he was punished for refusing to donate to an event the mayor held.

Henyard had previously posted an Instagram video of herself chatting with Biden from when she attended a press conference at the White House on Jan. 19, during the U.S. Conference of Mayors' annual winter meeting. 

Fox News Digital previously reported that Henyard has been living like a royal with a combined salary of nearly $300K – more than the state's governor – and frequent use of beauty vendors, despite the 23,000 residents of the Illinois town having a median income of $24K. Henyard has also come under fire for various tirades in public meetings, accusing her critics among local leaders of "beating and attacking on a Black woman that’s in power."

According to FOX 32, a Dolton-based U-Haul rental and trucking business owner named Lawrence Gardner said he went to the FBI out of frustration that the Village of Dolton would not renew his business license. He claims he has suffered from harassment, raids on his business and being shut down by Dolton Police. Gardner believes it’s retaliation after he refused to donate to a civic event sponsored by Henyard.

DEMOCRATIC MAYOR ACCUSED OF ANTICS SO WILD SHE DESERVES HER OWN TV SHOW: 'REAL LIFE PARKS & REC SITUATION'

"I talked to a couple of [FBI] agents and I explained to them what’s going on," Gardner told FOX 32. "I gave them all my paperwork to show them what was happening in court and what was happening in Dolton. And they told me they were investigating and would be in touch with me."

He also reportedly claimed that the FBI agents he spoke with took his allegations seriously, "Yes. Very serious. Very."

Gardner is one of six individuals who have reportedly spoken to the FBI about Henyard’s conduct, including other business owners, a former village employee and one or more public officials.

FOX 32 also cited restauranteur Dewayne Wood, who also has faced difficulties trying to renew his business license for his business for almost a year. 

While he has reportedly not spoken to the FBI, Wood believes that he has faced difficulties getting "Wood’s Kitchen" approved because he has catered to Dolton trustees who are engaged in a political battle with Henyard.

CONTROVERSIAL MAYOR POSTS VIDEO WITH BIDEN JUST DAYS AFTER RIPPING COLLEAGUES FOR 'ATTACKING ON A BLACK WOMAN'

"I've heard rumors that say, hey I'm on the wrong team," Wood said, later adding, "I think I've been targeted because of my association, affiliation with a certain group of people. The trustees. I've cooked for the trustees."

One of the trustees reportedly welcomes the FBI investigation.

"The Board of Trustees and I have repeatedly questioned the Mayor’s Office on her use of public funds," Dolton Trustee Jason House wrote in a statement. "We welcome any investigation that will bring transparency on how taxpayer dollars are being spent. Our residents deserve this level of financial transparency."

A public relations firm responding on behalf of Henyard told FOX 32 she had not been contacted by the FBI so far. 

"Mayor Tiffany Henyard and the Village of Dolton have not received any subpoenas and have not been contacted by the FBI or any other law enforcement agency," the firm said. 

Henyard and the FBI did not respond to requests for comment from Fox News Digital. _______________

That RICO thing I said with her looks like it may actually be in the works sooner than I thought

[oldfashionedmorphine]

well now i can’t say “nobody asked for this…”

(dear anon, i hope this helps!)

fyi—i spend way too much of my time looking things up for this fic… and this is some of what i saved when it came to outfits/hair and also just some basics info/stuff :)

———————

mike in 2004

hair: styled like johnny depp’s hair in the 90s… he’s kept it shoulder length or longer since 1986—he ditched the bangs at some point in the early 90s! and since he doesn’t dye it, there’s some gray throughout

outfits: white or black t-shirt’s, black jeans, and converse high tops are still his bread-and-butter base. his style is pretty consistent because he’s not a big fan of change—he likes what he likes! it’s just super easy for him to throw something else over a plain t-shirt and walk out the door.

overall: he doesn’t typically keep his face clean-shaven, call it laziness, but sometimes he will wait two weeks or more between picking up a razor. he’s still skinny because he doesn’t always eat right, skipping meals because he gets too distracted with video games, but years of drinking are starting to take a toll and reflect in his skin, at times looking sallow

———————

will in 2004

hair: styled basically like whatever hayden christensen was doing to his hair in 2003/2004, also not a fan of hair dye, and also as he got older there was a bit more wave to his hair

outfits: wears lots of flannels, band/graphic tees, polos, button ups with sweater vests, jeans/corduroy/khaki pants, adidas/saucony jazz/new balance style sneakers—usually laid back but he will also use any excuse to dress it up! wears square-framed tortoiseshell glasses since 2001 (when he had to renew his driver’s license he couldn’t pass the eyesight test—got his eyes checked and sure enough he needed glasses!)—and included that picture of noah wearing glasses cause when i saw it i was like, wow yeah, that’s not too far off, just change the frames and age him 15 years… lol

overall: usually keeps his face free of any stubble, also has a few gray hairs but not as many as mike and he likes to walk or run for exercise to better keep in shape, in the summer he’s been known to pick up a tan, and he has one tattoo—the word “love” written in morse code under the scar from where nancy burnt him with a hot iron [ .-.. --- ...- . ]

———————

holly in 2004

(holly is 24, about the same age as kristen bell so I kinda picture her from veronica mars season 1 but with long hair/dyed like cady heron from “mean girls”—holly watched the movie earlier that year and liked the look!)

outfits: low rise flare jeans, denim jackets, fitted shirts, canvas vans sneakers, low top converse

———————

el in 2004

hair: long, always past her shoulders at least—she doesn’t like cutting it short for obvious reasons—she also dyes it and never skimps on spending money to maintain it and loves adding things like butterfly clips or barrettes with sparkles

outfits: she loves fashion and experimenting with her wardrobe. lots of delicate details and whimsy. a lot of what claire danes and anne hathaway were wearing 2002-2004

what she’s up to: el never went to college, but attends a few business seminars in between all her world travels and eventually invests some of her government hush money into opening a vintage/antique shop in hawkins that her and joyce run together.

el’s exact outfit from ch 8!

———————

outfit inspiration for mike + will in 1999 (aka for ch. 15)

mike: black jeans, ochre yellow striped button down, and of course he would’ve worn his typical converse shoes if he had to physically travel to the house that night, but alas… lol

will: brown dress shoes (normally wears sneakers, but for special occasions he gets fancy), light wash denim with navy turtle neck, plus brown leather jacket

(yes… i purposefully made them wear each others colors 😏)

———————

the mood board i made for nancy + jonathan’s wedding in 1993

(i’ve posted this before but idk how many of you saw it lol)

of course there is more i could add and sadly there’s things i’ve since cleared from my phone like the picture i had saved of a wedding dress i thought nancy would wear… but if there is anything else you’d like to know, i’m always down to talk more about this story! send me a message—you don’t have to stay on anon unless you wanna, but i don’t bite!! ;)

[bridgyrose]

Ruby loses an eye, Blake comforts her and supports her as she relearns how to do stuff.

Ruby winced as she bumped her right arm into the couch again while trying to sit down. “I dont get how Weiss can do this!” 

“She did have a few years to get used to using only one eye,” Blake said as she helped Ruby around the couch. “Give it time and you’ll be back to yourself.” 

“You say that, but we both know this is going to be an adjustment for all of us.” Ruby sat down and adjusted her eye patch, pulling her hand back when she felt the metal plate around her eye socket. Her heart started to pound in her chest as she took a deep breath to calm herself, reminding herself that Cinder wasnt there. “You saw what happened when I tried to renew my license, I could barely take a beowolf on my own. What makes me think I can be a huntress?” 

Blake gently took Ruby’s hand and squeezed. “Because you’re a talented huntress. Losing your eye is just a set back, not something that’s going to keep you from doing what you love.” 

“I… I wish I could feel that way…” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Ruby felt her heart stop for a moment as she listened to Blake, her body freezing and her breath hitching when she remembered those were the same words she had said to Blake when she went on her own to stop Cinder and lost her eye. “I-I trust you-” 

“Then relax and let me be here for you. Rushing through this will only get you hurt.” 

“And what happens when I’m not out there?” Ruby asked as her fingers tightly gripped her skirt. “What happens when I cant be out there to help others? You, Yang, Weiss, Jaune… I trust you all, but… what happens when I’m not there to back you up and you get hurt? That’s how its always been, hasnt it? I’ve always had your back on missions, always there to take care of any grimm that you dont see or come from behind.” 

“Then we’ll be careful,” Blake answered. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but right now, all you can do is learn how to live with your missing eye. And I’ll be by your side no matter what.” 

“Yeah, but… its… its not the same.” 

“Then maybe we can get some help.” 

Ruby sighed. “I’m tired of going to doctors.” 

“What about a friend?” 

Ruby hesitated for a moment as she tried to think of who Blake would be suggesting. “And who would you be suggesting?” 

“I’m sure Pietro wouldnt mind helping you out.” 

“No!” Ruby instinctively went to touch her eye, freezing as she felt the metal plate once more. “I dont… I-I cant….” Her fingers shook as she spoke, the burn scars under the metal plate burning as she swore she felt Cinder’s hand pressed against her eye again, the pain of fire rushing into her eye. She felt Blake squeeze her hand again as she tried to relax. “I-I dont want anyone else touching my eye.” 

“Then we wont.” 

Ruby looked at Blake and paused when she felt her hand gently touch her cheek. “But you-” 

“I dont want to make you feel like you have to rush this. If you dont want to talk to Pietro, then I’ll be by your side and help you get used to this. The rest of us will make sure to take missions that you dont have to worry about us and we can help you relearn everything you need. Will that be okay?” 

Ruby nodded and leaned into Blake’s touch, her body shaking at the idea of running into Cinder again. “And if… if we run into trouble?” 

“We have Jaune and his team as back up. But I promise, nothing bad will happen, alright? This will be just you, me, our team, and helping you learn how to be a huntress again.” 

“Right…” Ruby looked away with a small smile. “I trust you.” 

“The world will always be here for you to help and save. You can rest for a little bit.”

Ruby nodded and looked at her reflection, hating the way the scarred skin poked out from under the metal plate. Though, she still couldnt help but smile as she stayed close to Blake, her fears slowly started to melt away, feeling safe with her touch as a spark of silver ran across her good eye, fading away just as quick. 

[mathsbian]

This country (the US) hates poor people so fucking much. Not even just the corporations and credit companies! The fucking government!

My partner got a ticket for something stupid like a parking violation years ago. Apparently, they had a court date for that ticket, but they didn’t know about it because the summons for the hearing got sent to an address they hadn’t lived at in five years. The court responded by suspending their driver’s license. And sent that notice to the same bad address. So they didn’t know still.

Two summers ago, we ran out of gas downtown outside the main bus terminal. We walked a mile down the road together to get a gallon of gas, and walked back. When we got back, there was a cop working on calling in a tow for what looked like an abandoned vehicle. When we walked up, he asked if the truck was ours and who had been driving. He ran the plates and my partner’s license even though we hadn’t done anything illegal afaik (maybe walking away from a car that’s out of gas that’s still in the road, even if there’s nowhere to push the car to get it out of the way, is illegal? I don’t know). He walked back over and asked my partner if they were aware their license was suspended. My partner said no. The cop let us go without writing a ticket or confiscating my partner’s license, but insisted I had to be the one to drive home on my expired driver’s license. I’m disabled and don’t feel safe driving a car so that drive home was pretty stressful.

A month or so later we were driving to their parents’ houses a couple counties away to visit their family. We realized on the way down that their truck’s taillights were out and hoped we’d make it before dark. We did not. Two different state troopers pulled us over less than five miles apart. The first one wrote a ticket, confiscated my partner’s license, and made me take over driving again. Part of the ticket was because my partner didn’t have car insurance, because car insurance is really expensive and we’re barely scraping by each month as it is. Driving in the dark is even more difficult for me, so I was already on my way to panicking when the second state trooper pulled us over. We showed him the ticket we had just gotten and he let us go, but that was the first time I have ever been pulled over while driving and my license was expired and I was sure we’d be getting arrested. So even more panicky as we pulled back onto the highway and got to my partner’s mom’s house.

After that ticket, my partner got summoned to court again. It wasn’t for months, and it was a couple of counties away, but not in the county their parents live in. They ended up driving us home, driving to work for the time til the court date, driving us to the store, and driving us back to their mom’s the day before court. We went well before dark this time so we wouldn’t get stopped for the taillights again. Their mom helped get their insurance renewed and took them to court. The court said they could go ahead and renew their license in their county of residence when they got home, and that as long as they kept paying their insurance, there wouldn’t be any more problems. A review of their case was set for January of this year.

In December, they got let go from their job because the company owner realized he was expanding too fast and started making cuts everywhere.

They went in for the review on the appointed date, and all that happened was they were informed they owe the court like SEVEN HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS, after adding up the amounts they were fined, the court fees, and the additional fine for missing court the first time even though there was no way for them to show up to that because they didn’t know they’d been summoned to court. It’s due by June 8. There’s no way we can save up for that by then.

Today? They got a letter saying their license is suspended again for driving while it was suspended two years ago. Even though they were told to renew their license at the last court date, and that there wouldn’t be any problems if they paid their insurance. They aren’t allowed to renew it now until July, with the stipulation that it will stay suspended if they don’t pay off their court dues. So, in this society that has been built to revolve around the personal car, my partner is license-less, has to somehow find a job within walking distance, and then somehow save more money than we’ve ever had saved just to get their license back. And then renewing it will cost another goddamn $40.

I have no clue what we’re supposed to do anymore. They tried applying for unemployment but now it uses ID.me to verify your identity and for whatever reason they couldn’t get their identity verified. Now I’m wondering if it’s because their license got suspended again and we didn’t find out til long after that attempt.

Fucking. FUCK!!! And this is all not even addressing my massive credit card debt that I can’t make payments on because I have no income whatsoever. I’m still fucking waiting on my SSDI decision from my hearing in December. It’s supposed to be arriving soon but who knows how long it will take to get through the mail.

Like how are we supposed to go to the store? My partner can walk there but I don’t know if I can even make it that far, and we get so many groceries at once that we often can’t bring them into the house in one trip, just coming from the trunk of my car. I can’t carry that much AND walk all that way, especially after walking to the store and around the store. Walking around the store often wipes me out on its own.

It’s so fucking expensive being poor already, and it doesn’t help when the government decides to fine you a bunch of money and take your license til you pay.

[notesoncrocs]

ms. worldwide 1: the passport

passport appreciation post!!

y'all have definitely overheard me being stressed over not having a valid passport one week out from my flight to cdmx. during finals week, not only did i become a (debatable and mediocre) expert on machines and how they learn, but i also became intimately familiar with mozart's violin concerto no. 3 because i was on hold with the number of the national passport center for hours. this was on me for not planning ahead and renewing it in time, but it came last thursday! hooray!

now i have a lot (like three) passports on hand. here's the story:

Passport #1

newest passport! 2023-2033.

wow, classic and timeless front cover. they switched things up with the design inside though: the first page with your id is thicker and like the card of a license, and the color scheme of the background of the rest of the pages is greener.

since i got this as an adult, this will last me 10 years, thank god. all the visa pages are blank; 0 countries visited with this one. i'll change this soon!

Passport #2

second passport! 2018-2023.

stunning cover, i feel like a real american when i hold this in my hands. i remember getting this summer after freshman year of high school (2018). i expected to use this more and go back to visit family in china more often, but the pandemic happened, so i'm going back to see them this summer on the new passport.

here are the stamps:

i used this passport for one trip to china in high school (2019) and my iap trip to europe (2023).

the french didn't stamp my passport as i went through the paris-cdg airport (maybe because i was coming from madrid and leaving for milan, which is considered "domestic" for eu reasons?). the shanghai-pudong airport gave me a stamp both for the date i entered (入) and the date i exited (出), while madrid-barajas gave me a stamp the day i entered and milan-malpensa gave me one the day i left (likely because they're both in the eu and traveling around the eu is simpler this way, and maybe the dates correspond to the day i need to leave the eu / the day i am allowed back in the eu?).

STATS:

3 visa pages used

3 countries gave me stamps

4 countries visited

2 trips from the us

Passport #3

third passport! 2014-2019.

graphic design is their passion. this passport has some cool and important features. first, my picture. say hello to renee from fifth grade:

i still remember taking this picture — it was at costco, because we went there to get photos printed, and i was so, so angry at my dad, to the point where it was difficult to get a decent picture of me. i don't remember why, but my mother says as a kid i would only get upset for good reasons, so i was probably right for it.

this passport is also important because it has my chinese visa, which i need to enter and stay in the country for a max of 90 days. i think generally, anyone from the u.s. going to china needs a visa from an embassy with very few exceptions (something like if you enter through hong kong or macau and stay only for a week or so), but they're good for 10 years. mine expires in 2027 so we're all good.

here are the stamps:

i used this passport for one trip to japan (2015) and maybe three trips to china? this is where things get confusing.

it seems like i entered shanghai-pvg 6/13/2014 and left 6/16/2014, but then reentered the country two days later on 6/18...? and then left for good 7/12/2014? there's no stamps anywhere to explain where i was 6/16-18, but for sure i was outside of china. i'm so confused. i have an aunt and uncle in the hong kong/shenzhen area, so maybe i went there for a couple days? does hong kong not have a stamp? (the political implications...jkjk)

i also think the japanese stamps are funny. they used stickers as well as stamps and have a qr code and extra slip of paper and everything. also cool that i can read and understand the kanji (which reads like traditional chinese to me) they use.

STATS:

3 visa pages used

2 countries gave me stamps

2 countries visited (+/- hong kong...?)

3 trips from the us

BONUS: Boston Public Library Passport

everyone should get this! it's so cute! saw it on @tumblasha's desk while they were packing and the next day, after missing the movie blackberry (don't worry we watched it the next day) @anas-bizarre-adventure and i walked into the public library in chinatown and got these passports and also a boston library card.

when you open it, this is what you see:

there's a table of contents of all the locations of the boston public library.

between each branch, they recommend a route for you via walking/T.

when you get there, they have a space for you to get a stamp (by going up to the desk and asking, they're really nice). also a place to sit down and take notes / doodle!

now when i go out into boston i have to carry this with me everywhere just in case we end up near a library location. me and ana were thinking of going through all the locations in a day! we'd learn a lot about the different neighborhoods and communities in boston and how the libraries help to serve each one.

passports — of all shapes, sizes, and kinds — are important. they help you prove that you are a person of some age who is allowed to be here, help you make it to your misti internship (in less than a week), your mother's apartment, and your grandparents' place, and help you travel the world. but some of them also encourage you to explore your own home and city. i'm excited to see the world this summer, both the world far away and the world very close to me. go passports!

[sincerelysober]

Mood Journaling

Mood Journaling

Weekly Check-Out (Feb. 27-March 6 )

Overall last week was okay. It was fairly busy and my anxiety remained high all week which did effect my sleep, but wasn’t too bad. I continued to find healthy outlets for me to relax with each day which is greatly improving my mental wellbeing, so let’s jump into how my goals went. 1. I actually finished an entire book and am half way through another, so I completed AND exceeded my goal of 50 pages a day. Reading has become a great way for me to come down and helped me out on a lot of late nights.

2. This one I failed greatly. I didn’t add on to my workout routine OR actually complete it at all, but more on that to follow.

3. I attempted to do this, but it was out of my control and I have to follow-up on it this week. Since this was out of my control I can’t say I met/failed this goal and will keep it on my list to be achieved.

Weekly Check-In March 6th, 2023

Mood: Anxious & Defeated  Depression: 3 Anxiety: 8 Sleep: 7 hours  Appetite: Below Average

Weekly Goals:

1. Continue apartment clean out  2. Make doctor appointments 3. Take care of vehicle registration & renew license

Last week was stressful for multiple reasons, one of them being that my liver disease symptoms came back in full effect. This impacted me greatly physically, so I was unable to complete my goal of working out last week. That had helped me with a lot of “feeling accomplished” in the week prior, so it was sort of a let down. Reading helped a lot in this regard, and I also found more time to add some casual gaming into my day/night. I always loved gaming, but with life being so busy it’s been harder to game daily over the last few years, so that was super nice for mem as well. I did get to go to the doctor so I am on some temporary medications right now to help with my symptoms, and am working on scheduling more doctor visits this week with my specialists. I should’ve kept up with this and maybe my symptoms wouldn’t have flared, but alas here I am. Luckily I have off this coming weekend and it’s the first time in over a year that my boyfriend won’t be around so I am hoping to get more done apartment wise with the extra time to myself. And as mentioned above, I will not only continue to straighten out my vehicle registration BUT I also need to renew my license! My job needs this as well, so I should have enough motivation to take care of that. I have until the end of the month, but better to have it out of the way and taken care of. Am I right?

I should also mention that even though it wasn’t a goal last week I managed to continue journaling daily. It’s harder to get on here when I work, but I do have a physical journal I write in and am part of an emotional support discord where I complete daily questions as an outlet as well.

Here’s to taking it step by step as we go through life week by week! Happy March everybody~