#which shelby literally did not say and said multiple times that she was sharing her story because she believed he was still dangerous

[pikhachu]

idk if this travelled much into tumblr yet or not but i probably wont be talking abt anything to do w wilbur anymore :')

takin it hard ngl cuz ive loved that guys songs and content as well as the whole sbi dynamic for four years now but what can you do

[dustbunnylair]

Shubble/Shelby's Situation: People Defending The Abuser and Shaming The Victim (!TW: Mentions of abuse/abusive relationship!)

7 months ago, on February 21st, 2024, a Twitch streamer with around 468K followers spoke out about being abused by another Twitch streamer and artist, who is now her ex on a stream titled, “Talking About Something More Serious”. The Twitch streamer who spoke out goes by Shubble or Shelby, she described the at the time unnamed Twitch streamer as (mainly) British, popular, and also in the music industry, fans quickly connected the dots to the popular Twitch streamer and lead singer in the band, Lovejoy, Wilbur Soot. 

I won’t go into full detail about what Shubble said, as I would prefer for people to listen to her say it, rather than someone else. But, the main things were that Wilbur did not follow a safe word that they set in place, and would bite her to the point of her screaming out in pain. He was also slobbish and dirty in his living situation. Unfortunately, Shubble has not provided any proof of bruises, markings, etc. but that doesn’t mean she’s lying, not every abuse victim documents their injuries, and honestly in my opinion, maybe she’s uncomfortable with sharing those injuries, those injuries are really none of our business to see.

A few days later, Wilbur Soot, made a response, which if you would like to read it you can find it here, I’ll sum it up to what I had processed within the response:

First off, he says it’s a response rather than an apology. Second, he didn’t even mention Shubble’s name, he only referred to her as “ex-girlfriend” or “this person” he never said her name. I want that to be emphasized because that’s quite common in abusers, they literally will not say their victim’s name(s) as a form of dissociation or just not taking accountability.

Many people including famous people such as Ranboo, Tommyinnit, Sneegsnag, Lil Tay, Billzo, Aimsey, Dream even, to fully call out Wilbur, as they should. Let’s also emphasize how absolutely batshit insane it is that Lil Tay and Billzo said shit about him, Lil Tay does not know this man and Billzo is literally never active on social media, no hate to them though obviously, shoutout to them for calling him out. Dream responding to Wilbur is so diabolical, you know an apology/response sucked ass when DREAM of all people responds to you and REWRITES the response. 

I have found many people on social media, more specifically TikTok and Pinterest, borderline defending Wilbur Soot. From getting mad at Shubble for telling her viewers to stream her stream instead of Wilbur's newest song, which yeah is a bit immature coming from a 30 y/o woman, but remember this is literally her abuser and she’s probably just joking around and coping. Not to mention the person who “called out” Shubble for not being able to “move on” can’t move on from Shubble nor Wilbur themselves.

Hypocrite alert…Honestly, Wilbur defenders are either stuck in 2019-2021 or are just insanely parasocial. Wilbur does not know you, you do not know him, he is a content creator and singer. I *was* a Wilbur fan before “Your New Boyfriend” came out, and look, I’ve moved on from him, 5 years of my life went to waste but at least I’m not supporting an abuser. It’s so funny seeing Wilbur dick riders getting mad at people for calling him niblur soot or saying he has rabies and needs a muzzle. 

It’s always “always believe the victim” until the abuser is someone you like or is conventionally attractive. I’ve seen multiple people ask why Shubble hasn’t sued Wilbur but has sued a car company. It’s so obvious that these people do not know shit about abusive relationships. Almost like if you were to take it to court and sue him, it wouldn’t change anything for Shubble other than some money or some shit, it doesn’t change the fact that she has trauma from the abuse, and it certainly isn’t gonna make him take accountability. Plus abuse in women or literally any gender, is invalidated most of the time.

People say that Wilbur is getting therapy just from his word. But me and other people are clearly seeing he isn’t showing change whatsoever, in fact, he literally looks like he’s on drugs, like coke. I remember someone made a TikTok talking about how skinny Wilbur looks and saying he’s probably starving himself. He’s 6’5 and has always been fucking lanky, and starving yourself isn’t the only thing that makes you lose weight, it’s also drugs!

I’m honestly just so sick and tired of seeing people say “Shubble admitted to lying” and then when you ask for proof of that they don’t respond, because she’s never admitted to that. Even other creators, not just Shubble, have come out and said Wilbur’s abusive behavior, like Tommyinnit. I mean, James Marriott hasn’t spoken out about this, and he doesn’t have to, that’s not something that’s required from him, but in one of James Marriott’s videos from 3 years ago, he and Wilbur did like this drunk video and it was called “If We Laugh, The Video Ends…(ft. Wilbur Soot)”, but throughout the video Wilbur just sometimes gets violent, and it doesn’t seem like a bit because most of the time James reacts genuinely concerned.

And before anyone uses the “Oh but he was drunk” excuse, I don’t want to hear it, the more drunk you are, the more of the real you comes out, he was drunk as fuck and his real self was coming out. 

Yeah, honestly that’s all I have to say about this topic for right now. Don’t go harass Wilbur or any Wilbur supporters, just try to educate them or block them, both are valid. If I have more to add I’ll make a follow-up post. But yeah, always believe the victim, don’t defend abusers. Keep yourself safe.

[tell-me-when-ur-ready]

This Thing Called Love (part three)

Summary: When Shawn meets dancer Kellie in Toronto, he falls for her���hard. But Kellie has an invisible disability and thinks it’s impossible that someone could really love her the way she is.

Author’s note: I have multiple chronic illnesses that are similar to Kellie’s, but I don’t have the same exact health conditions she does. I’ve done lots of research, but I apologize if I get anything wrong!

Warnings: tiny bit of language

Word count: 1,600

Shawn’s texts didn’t stop when Kellie went home to Atlanta, a second-place win under her belt. A week after she’d gotten settled back in the small apartment she shared with two roommates, both dance majors at a local university, he texted her again.

It was early in the morning, 8 AM, but Kellie could already tell she wouldn’t be getting out of bed that day. The remnants of a migraine plus three days of barely eating anything due to nausea had her down for the count, in bed with Netflix and her roommate’s cat.

When her phone dinged, she expected it to be her boss; outside of teaching dance, Kellie nannied for a family with two kids, and she’d just texted the mom to tell her she couldn’t make it today. I’m not feeling well, Kellie had said—an understatement, considering she could barely stand the light from her computer screen and she was so weak she didn’t know if she could walk to the kitchen and make herself food.

But the display said Shawn Mendes (something that would’ve made Kellie pinch herself, if she’d had the energy—she would definitely win a game of “who’s the most famous person in your phone”). Swiping the screen revealed the full text, which was just three words: Check your email.

Curious, Kellie opened her email and waited for it to load. At the top of her inbox was an official invitation to be part of Shawn’s music video for his new song. She scrolled slowly through the email; it detailed payment, location, timeframe, costume, the vision for the choreography, and everything else she needed to know. With every word, Kellie felt herself getting more excited. This was what she’d always wanted, what she desperately needed—a chance to prove herself, to become a professional dancer and begin earning real money doing what she loved.

 And then she shook herself back into reality. She was disabled. She had complications from Celiac disease. She had chronic migraines. This was the third day in a row she’d spent right here, in bed, not feeling well enough to do literally anything else. How did she think she could commit to filming a whole freaking music video—something where she had to show up in top form, ready to dance for hours under someone else’s schedule and direction? Her body didn’t work that way; Kellie needed to make her own schedule, to go at her own pace, to be free to rest when her body needed to rest. And up until now, she’d been fortunate to find jobs that were willing to accommodate her disability.

 But the real world didn’t work that way.

 Kellie locked her phone and slid back under the covers.

 ***

 Kellie didn’t tell anyone about Shawn until well over a week after she got home. When she’d arrived back in Atlanta, her roommates and friends had asked her how the dance competition was and what she did in Toronto, and she’d said she won second place in her division (dancing to Shawn’s song, not that that was relevant) and explored the city’s coffee shops when she was feeling well enough. Which was all true. She’d just omitted one tiny, enormous detail. Kellie didn’t really know why she hadn’t told anyone about Shawn; she’d half expected paparazzi photos to appear the next morning and do the job for her. But they didn’t, and then she was busy navigating her feelings—not that she had feelings, because it was just a professional relationship, or it was until he’d started texting her so often—and somehow she’d just never gotten around to it.

 But now she needed advice. And now, her roommates were going to kill her.

 The following Monday morning, finally recovered from her latest migraine and feeling decent, Kellie was in the apartment kitchen making a smoothie to take to work. It was early June now and today was the kickoff for weeks of summer dance camp at the studio where she worked, six hours a day of more or less just babysitting a dozen eight-year-olds in tutus.

 Her roommates Mackenzie and Shelby walked into the kitchen at the same time, Mackenzie dressed for a summer dance intensive and Shelby on her way to work at the local Gap.

 “I have something to tell you,” Kellie said, shutting off the blender and turning to face them before she lost her nerve.

 Mackenzie’s eyes immediately opened wide. “Oh my God. You’re moving out. You got a new diagnosis. You’re pregnant?!”

 “Pretty sure you have to actually look at a boy to get pregnant,” Shelby said, and Kellie snapped a dishtowel at her.

 “Stop it. This is serious; I need advice. But first, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Okay?”

  “Oka-a-ay,” Mackenzie said, wrinkling her forehead. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

 Kellie ignored her and plowed ahead. “Okay, so when I was in Toronto, well, I didn’t tell you everything that actually happened there. I have an opportunity to be in a music video, but I’m not sure if I should do it.”

 “But that’s so cool!” Shelby exclaimed. “That’s what you’ve been wanting! A chance to dance professionally. I mean, if it’s for a real singer and not just some low-budget thing?”

 “It is,” Kellie said. She knew what Shelby meant; she’d definitely gotten lots of offers in the past to dance in a music video being produced in someone’s garage. It would be great “exposure,” she’d been told. Maybe, but exposure didn’t pay her rent or her medical bills.

 Mackenzie leaned on her elbows on the island. “So, why would you not do it then?”

 “You know,” Kellie said, slumping back against the counter. “My health. Sometimes I just don’t know if being a professional dancer is actually a reality for me. I can’t sign a contract saying I’ll dance and then not show up the day of the shoot because I’m in bed with a migraine.”

 “Would you have to fly to Toronto to do it?” Mackenzie asked, and Kellie nodded. Travel—long restless days with lots of noise and people and unfamiliar food—made her health problems flare up.

 Shelby had been quietly moving around the kitchen as they spoke, putting a bagel in the toaster oven, taking it out, buttering it with a knife.

 “I think you should try,” she said finally. “I mean, yes, your health will probably be an issue. But it’s probably always going to be an issue, yanno? So why wait? Just explain things to them and maybe they’ll work with you.”

 Kellie shrugged, fidgeting with the frayed edge of the dishtowel in her hand.

 “Is the singer anybody I would have heard of?” Shelby asked casually, and Kellie cringed. This was the part where they were going to kill her.

 “Um… yeah,” Kellie said, and Shelby raised her eyebrows, waiting. “Um—it’s Shawn Mendes.”

 There was a loud bang as Mackenzie slapped both palms on the island. “Shawn freaking Mendes?” she shrieked. “No way! You got invited to be in his music video? That’s amazing! Did someone on his team see your In My Blood dance at the competition? That’s how they found you?”

 Kellie let out a whoosh of breath. “Um, actually, I ran into him. And he just asked me. And then, he kept texting me… and we went to lunch… and a couple of days ago he sent me the official email about the video.”

 “HOLD up,” Mackenzie practically shouted. “You went to LUNCH? With SHAWN MENDES?! SHAWN FUCKING MENDES? Have you SEEN his Calvin Klein ad?”

 Shelby was giggling, seeming much more unbothered about Kellie’s revelation. “Only you, Kellie, would go to Toronto and go out to dinner with Shawn Mendes,” she said.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kellie said, as Mackenzie continued her conniptions. “My life is boring. I don’t know why he asked me to lunch, and I wasn’t even going to go, but I did. I don’t know why I went or—”

 “I’ll show you why,” Mackenzie shouted from the other side of the kitchen. Kellie tuned her out.

 “So,” she said to Shelby. “You think I should try?”

 Shelby took the dishtowel from Kellie’s hands and held it up. The edge she’d been fiddling with was completely frayed now, hanging down in strings.

 “Yes. I think you should,” she said firmly. “And I think you should stop worrying so much.”

 Mackenzie was crossing the kitchen in purposeful strides, shoving her phone in Kellie’s face. “THAT’S why,” she shouted, and Kellie raised her eyebrows at the image of Shawn in his Calvins, abs on full view with that one little curl hanging over his forehead, practically smoldering at the camera.

 “Okay, okay,” Kellie said, pushing the phone away. “I know what he looks like. After all—” She paused, unable to resist a little teasing. “I went to lunch with him,” she finished with a smirk.

 Mackenzie threw up her hands. “Ho-ly crap, we are living in the future. What did you guys even talk about? Was it literally just the two of you? Where did you eat? Did he pay?”

 “Hey,” Shelby said suddenly, “we’re running late. We have to go. But tonight you’re going to tell us every word he said!”

 “Can I have his phone number?” Mackenzie cried, but then Shelby was shoving her out the door and they were gone.

 Laughing to herself, Kellie leaned back against the counter and picked up her phone, opening her email inbox. And then she opened the email from Shawn’s team and hit “reply.”

Taglist: @rosiemercy @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 

[peakyblinders1919]

That’s A First

This doesn’t fit in perfectly to the exisiting timeline of the Younger Shelby series, but it’s a time after everyone knows you and Isaiah are dating, obvi

One final twirl in the mirror and you were good to go. Your hair was pinned back neatly with the help of your sister, and she even let you wear some of her fancy makeup. You didn't recognize yourself at all, the beading of your dress shining in the light.

“Do I look ok?”

“You look great love. You must really like him, you seem nervous.”

“I am, I think I'm gonna be sick.”

“Nonsense, everything’ll be fine. Just try to have a good time with him.” Ada advises before your about to leave. You can barely hear her over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“You’ll cover for me right?” You asked, lingering in the doorway. You guessed you weren’t really nervous about the date, though it was the first time you’d be alone with him, just the two of you and a nice dinner, you worried about running out of things to say to him, sitting in silence and having an awful time with him. You were more nervous about your brothers finding out.

Saying they were overprotective was an understatement. If they got even the littlest tip-off that a boy wasn’t treating you right, the four of them would grab their guns and run off to straighten him out. You knew because it had happened once or twice before. It was humiliating. You didn’t know how many boys they had left with black eyes or broken ribs because of you, and every boy in school knew it. They knew if they were dating you, they’d be dating your brothers too, and the Shelby name made schoolboys shake with fear.

“I’ll try Y/N, but it’s not going to be easy. Don’t be too long either, they’ll start to get suspicious.”

“Oh Ada, thank you, thank you.” You say, running back to her and kissing her cheek multiple times.

“What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t cover for my sister? Now go on, he’s probably already waiting for you.” Your smile was wide as the anxiety in your stomach turned into butterflies at the thought of going on a real date with Isaiah. You hurried down the steps, trying not to make any noise as your heels clicked against the hardwood floor. You tried sneaking out the back door,

and you had practically made it out of the house when you heard a low grumble from the living room, which you knew all too well to be the noise of your brother clearing his throat.

“Y/N.”

You cursed under your breath, resting your head against the door before peeling yourself from it and walking into the living room to see all your brothers sitting round the table.

“Don’t you look nice Y/N.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks Tommy.” You said, your hand subconsciously going to the curls pinned at the back of your neck and shiny headpiece resting there. You tried avoiding his eyes, but Arthur and John sat on either side, causing you to keep you eyes on the floor.

“Where are you going?”

“Just out with some friends,” You shrugged.

“Going somewhere fancy?” John said, toothpick hanging from his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know! Why do I feel like I’m in an interrogation?” You spat angrily. “You guys weren’t supposed to be here anyway, what happened to the race?”

“It’s tomorrow.” Tommy said with a raised eyebrow.

“Fuck,” you muttered, realizing you had gotten your dates confused. “Well, if you must know I’m going on a date with Isaiah, he’s taking me to a nice restaurant, and you guys won’t do or say anything to scare him.”

“I can’t imagine anything we said would scare him.” Your head perked up at that, watching Tommy sit back comfortably with a cigarette in hand. Your furrowed eyebrows were enough to ask your question and he spoke up again. “Isaiah works with us, he knows what we’re capable of. Our threats would be meaningless. Just have a fun night and be back by 11.”

“Wait, really?” Youe eyes lit up with excitement. “That’s it? Just be back by 11?” You could hardly contain your excitement, for the first time ever they weren’t threatening the boy taking you out, they weren’t threatening to follow you, and the best was they weren’t forring you to stay in. You thanked each of them with a kiss then headed out, skipping down the street.

“You look amazing.” You blushed at Isaiah’s compliment, though it was impossible to see through the dark glow of the room. The restaurant was fancy as promised, white tablecloths, red flowers at every table, soft jazz music being played by a live band, the flickering golden light of the candle, that really did make your eyes and smile sparkle.

“Thank you, you clean up pretty nice yourself when you take off that cap.” You tease. The waiter comes over to give you menu’s and for the first time ever, you don’t stare at him paranoid, wondering if he was planted by your brothers. You didn’t have to constantly look over your shoulder, wondering if the boys were watching or what they’d do to your date if you finally got caught. You sigh in content, a smile plastered on your face.

“Is everything alright? If you don’t see anything you like we can go somewhere else.”

“No, no, Isaiah, this is great. Everything is great. My brothers, you know they actually are in favor of this. They told me to have a good time, it’s the first time I don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Good, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

You smiled at him sweetly and proceeded to look at the menu: rack of lamb, seared salmon, your mouth was watering. But then you noticed the price, and again lines of worry adorned your face.

“What is it?”

“Iz, this all looks great but, it’s a little expensive, no? We can go somewhere else?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you but you don’t have to worry about that. Your brother made sure to pay me a little extra this week and he may have recommended I take here…”

You rolled your eyes and stayed quiet looking at the menu. But Isaiah was different, he always have been. He respected your wishes to keep your relationship a secret at the beginning, afraid of what you’d both face from your brothers, he wasn’t scared off by the family name and reputation, he was a part of it himself, and he noticed when something was wrong before anyone else. He put his menu down and took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze causing you to look up at him.

“Hey, your brothers only want the best for you. I want that too, they’re only trying to help. Don’t be mad at them.”

You looked into his brown eyes, sweet as chocolate, and it didn’t take long for them to make you melt. You sighed again, smiling.

“Your amazing, you know that?”

“Yeah, well I try my best.” He said, leaning carefully across the table and candles to kiss you sweetly, before eating ordering dinner.

The night was magical, way better than even you could have imagined. Without the stress of worrying about your brothers, you were relaxed enough to be yourself. Your laughed filled the air all night, smile never leaving your face as Isaiah had the effortlessness to crack jokes. Still, you found yourself laughing at everything he said that night, thanks to the bottle of red wine he had ordered and you had split quickly.

“You know, I’ve never seen you laugh.”

“There’s not many opportunities for me to.” You said, your wide lips meeting the glass and drinking some more.

“Well there should me. I’m gonna fill your life with laughable moments, because that laugh of yours is too precious not to hear everyone moment of every day.” Your not even sure why those words make you laugh but they do, trying to suppress it with another sip of wine.

The food comes out then, it was flavorful and literally mouth watering but you found yourself letting it get cold as you yearned to talk to Isaiah more. Your earlier worries were erased and by the end of dinner you were walking back to his place because you didn’t want to stop talking to Isaiah.

“You sure you want to come in?” Isaiah asked, nervous for the first time during this date.

“Positive. There’s nothing my brothers can do, let’s just go in. I have a funny story about the time Tommy was afraid of pigeons, I think you’ll want to hear it.”

“Pigeons? Tommy? Yeah, I’ve got to hear this.” He laughed, opening the door and usering you inside. His laugh was something you hadn’t heard often enough, it was low, hearty, and contagious. You went inside, his little house he lived in with his Dad warm and comfortable. It was a welcoming place as you sat on the couch near a low-flamed fire in the hearth, reddening your cheeks even more than they already were with the alcohol coursing through your system, and you knew more was to come as he asked if you’d like more.

With two tumblers of Whiskey, why he was shocked you prefered your brother’s favorite rink he didn’t understand, but sat next to you nevertheless and listened to you story about Tommy and pigeons. You laughed late into the night, snuggling close to Isaiah, eventually putting your head on his shoulder. The heat from the fire and the alcohol made your eyelids heavy.

“Hey sleepyhead.” His words broke the prolonged silence and you perked up when he nudged you lightly. “I gotta make sure I get you home, or else your brothers will really have my head.”

You yawned, snuggling deeper into his side. “It’s fine Iz, we have time.” You said without so much as glancing in the direction of a clock. You never wanted to leave. “Your not like everyone Isaiah,you know that?” You rambled, half asleep.

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone’s scared of them, but your not. Your one of them, but you don’t share that same desire to intimidate or threaten or kill. Everyone sees me as part of the Shelby family, princess of the family, something that should be looked at but not touched. You see me as myself, my own being separated from everything the name implies. You see me in a different light, you see me in the real way, and your not afraid of anything else. That’s how your not like everyone else, and that’s why I like you Iz.”

He looked at you in awe the entire time your thoughts ran wild and the only response he could give as pulling you into him and planting a long, heated, passionate kiss on your lips that lasted for eternity. You were so comfortable and so happy for the first time in a long time, the sweet silence and warmth of Isaiah lulled you asleep.

You woke to the sound of pounding on the door, which could easily be mistaken for far off gunshots, unless of course they were actual gunshots…

You scrambled to get up quickly, realizing the unfamiliarity of the room you found yourself in. You were not only shocked to find yourself not in your bed, but on a couch in a small living room, looking through two empty glasses at the now dead fire, though you still glowed in golden light from the morning sun. You hear a faint breathing next to you, Isaiah curled up and fast asleep peacefully.

“Isaiah!” You cried, shaking him until his eyes opened. “What time is it?”

“What do you mean-”

The knocking continued, and another sound that definitely was a muffled gunshot.

“What was that?” He asked, both of you now sufficiently awake.

“Take a wild guess.” You sighed, getting up and opening the door to reveal a very angry looking Tommy, escorted by Arthur and John in the back, a shotgun slung over his shoulder, and Finn in the back trying to avoid your eye.

“I’m fine, everything’s fine, stop shooting that bloody gun and waking up the nice people in the neighborhood.”

They all looked at you quizzically, and speechless, Isaiah standing behind you. He cleared his throat and offered a greeting, to which on John responded by waving hello deliberately with gun in hand.

“Y/N…”

“Yeah, let’s just go.” You said, shoulders sagging. You turned around to meet Isaiah eye’s. “I had a great time, I’ll see you later.” You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye, but in the presence of your brothers you knew that meant certain death. Isaiah waves and watched you all go, Arthur lingered to pat him on the shoulder and tell him that “You probably won’t be seeing her for a while if it’s up to Tommy.” He winked before leaving, Isaiah closing the door as you took your seat in the car and road home in silence surrounded by angry blinder brothers.

The second you arrived home you rushed to your room, locking the door wanting to be alone but Tommy and them would find a way to get in, kicking it down if they had to. It took them longer than you thought to start knocking on your door and to talk to you.

“Go away, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s Ada.” You heard your sisters voice. Smar. Tommy always was, he knew he could get information from you by talking to your sister. You opened the door hesitantly and sat on the bed with her, waiting.

“We were all a nervous wreck when you didn’t show up last night.”

“Look, I know I’m in danger constantly, but I have a life to live.”

“And your entitled to live it Y/N, but you have to be aware and careful.”

“I was with Isaiah. I was careful.”

“I know I’m just saying…”

“I’m surprised they waited that long though.” You voices after a while.

“I told them you were probably fine.”

“Well thank you. We didn’t do anything Ada. We just slept, I swear. We had a great night, he made me laugh like no one else, I didn’t want the night to end. I’m sorry.”

“I know Y/N, but just put you brothers at ease.” You nodded, taking a deep breath before finally confronting them.

“Tommy, can I talk to you guys?” You asked with a shaky voice. He motioned for you to sit down as John, Arthur and Finn grabbed seats around the table.

“I’m sorry.” You began.

“Look, Y/N, your not in trouble.” Tommy’s words made you lean forward, thinking you misheard him until Arthur leaned back and showed a hint of a smile under his ‘satche.

“Isaiah called us last night, we knew where you were. So your not in as much trouble as you can be.”

“He called?” You said, asking yourself more than them.

“Isaiah’s a good kid. We don’t really have to worry about you when your with me, we just want to make a point, you have to start be more careful ok? And we don’t just give you rules just because, they mean something, ok?”

You nod, still left confused by the calm conversation transpiring. “So...is that it?”

“That’s it.” Tommy nodded, the other boys laying back in contempt. You went to turn away, but stopped in the doorway and turned around agina, unable to shake this feeling.

“Wait….are….are you guys finally approving of the guy I’m with?”

There’s a prolonged moment of silence as the boys all look at eachother, with little nods before Tommy smiles at you. “It looks like it Y/N. You found a good one.”

Your smile grows wide, just thinking about the night you had had. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

[shewantstobebeautiful]

On boundaries and invalidations

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had issues with setting boundaries and having my feelings/wants/needs completely invalidating and overlooked. Seriously, thinking back to my childhood, I was very uncomfortable around men. Not just because my parents divorced and I was raised almost compeltely by women when I was very young. But because I was sexually assisted, multiple times by more than once person before ever hitting puberty. I never told anyone until recently, but that is not the point. I never felt comfortable around men, but I was a very cute little kid and adults fawned all over me, never listening when I said to stop tickling or when I didn’t want to talk just to they could giggle and laugh at my speech impediment or when I didn’t want to sit on laps anymore.

The same thing goes for being invalidated for what I’m feeling. When you’re a kid you don’t have the proper vocabulary skills to express what you’re feeling or why. Which makes it hard to explain why you’re scared or sad for no reason whatsoever. It look me years to realize that the sudden and intense fear that made me cry and occasionally throw up it was so bad, were panic attacks. I would be sad for days on end, no matter the situation, and cry and be told off for crying for no reason (“I’ll give you something to cry about”) or having zero desire to do anything except sleep, those were my first episodes of depression.

My first year of high school, I knew I needed help. I didn’t want to talk to my mom because she had previously written off the panic attacks (“really, shelby? Again? You’re fine.”), all consuming anxiety, and depression (“it’s just your period”) since I started having those feelings. I remember sitting at the dining room table after getting yelled at for so long about my dropping grades, crying because I had always been good in school, always been on the honor roll, and knowing I was still capable of those same achievements, but I couldn’t get past whatever was wrong in my brain to make it happen. I tried telling my mom I needed to see a therapist. That something was wrong. That I was scared, scared of myself, scared for myself. It wasn’t until almost the entire school year later, after I had taken to cutting myself to cope with everything that she realized how serious I had been all those months ago.

Around that same time, my bounderies were pushed even more. We lived in an old house and my door didn’t have a latch on it. So to keep the dog out of my room so she wouldn’t keep chewing up my things, my mother put a simple hook and eye lock on my door so it would stay closed when I wasn’t in it. My brother took to locking me in my room, thinking it was hysterical. More than once I had to climb out my own bedroom window just to get out of my room or yank my door open so hard I had had the door knob come off in my hand. We also only had once bathroom. That was the one room with a lock (that comes into play soon). I would announce to the family when I was going to shower and ask if anyone needed in there before my shower, so I wouldn’t be disturbed. It took me years to learn to do this, but even so I would always have someone knocking or just barging in halfway through my shower (not even 30 minutes) saying they needed to use the bathroom. So I would be stark ass naked, with usually my step dad or brother through a flimsy shower curtain or worse before we got rid of it, a clouded sliding glass door between us. Talk about an invasion of privacy. So I started taking to locking the door. To which I instantly started getting yelled at for. (“What if someone needs in there.” “What if something happens to you and we can’t get in.”) I would get the same lecture/scolds when I started putting my heavy saxophone case or a chair in front of my bedroom door when I slept because I had someone start invading my bed at night.

In therapy, I finally started learning that I matter. That what I feel matters. That what I want and what I need matter. That I’m allowed to say no and if someone doesn’t like it, it’s their problem, not my own. 10 years later, I’m still struggling with accepting it and making what I want known, but I at least can say it now and believe it.

It wasn’t until about 4 or so years later, when I moved out of my moms house not even a year after graduating high school, that I started testing bounderies. Simple things, like setting up rules with my roommate about shared common space and personal private space. And low and behold, she respected my bounderies. For the two years we lived together, maybe a handful of times did she knock on the bathroom door while I was in there. Never once did she break the noise rule we had in place or barge into my room without knocking, even if the door was open. It was liberating to feel validated and respected by somebody. Even if that somebody was simply my best friend.

Alas, at 19 I was working 2 jobs and going to school full time, as well as being in a committed relationship and having a pretty active social life. This was just before the rise of awareness of the importance in mental health and self care. I would be going nonstop at least 5 days a week. Class from 8am-12pm on M/W/F, followed by working my first job from 12-4, second jo from 4:30-10, then home to study, hang out with friends or girlfriend, and usually smoke a lot of pot. On Tuesday’s and Thursday’s I would work opening shifts at my first job, from 5or6am-2:30pm, followed by the same second job hours. Weekend would be the same as Tuesday’s and Thursday’s but not end until around midnight, usually followed by partying at a first house. This scheduled went on for two years. Until one day, everything caught up with me. I’m not sure when it all crashed around me, not too long after my 21st birthday. I don’t remember when or what happened, I just remember being stoned out of my mind, hadn’t had proper meal or shower in a few days, sitting on the truck of my car, smoking a cigarette as I cried/fought with my then girlfriend about the new cuts on my arms.

I’ll save the depression and all that mental health talk for another rambling, that’s not why we’re here today. It ended with me getting help, lots of help, having to quit one of my jobs, break up with my girlfriend, and move back home with my mother, right back to the hell i had worked so hard to crawl out of. Only now, the rules and lack of freedom were even worse, and even more so because I was sick and “didn’t help around the house.” All the validation in myself that I had, that I was struggling to hold on to, disappeared like a smoke in the wind. Only worse, due to living on complete opposite schedule as my mom and step dad, so the rules just kept coming.

No showering after midnight, the noise wakes us up (I didn’t get home from work until 12:30 most nights)

The kitchen closes at midnight, make yourself food before you go to work and heat it up when you get off, you keep waking us up

No using the microwave once we’re asleep (my solution, turn the sound off the microwave so I can eat warm food)

Stop messing with the microwave, your step dad is convinced it’s broken

Clean the bathroom over the weekend (despite my busiest work days being the weekend)

Don’t add too much food to the grocery list, we aren’t made of money (I added an extra handful of things because a family party was coming up and I wanted to make a side everyone loved, but we didn’t have what I needed to do it)

No company

No company

No company

Don’t touch the thermostat (it was set at almost 80 in the winter, and my room was right above the furnace room, I was being roasted like a Christmas goose)

Don’t come in the backdoor

Quick stomping around after we go to sleep (old house, they lived in the basement, I could have and did tip toe, and it would still wake them up)

Take better car of your car (at this point, I was practically living in my car just to avoid being in the house, so the backseat was a mess of changes of clothes, fast food wrappers, and bottles of water, as well as a pillow and blanket for sleeping)

Stop hanging out with those people (three friends I had known since high school, only problem I stayed over at theirs a lot and was never home to be the house maid anymore)

At 23, I moved out again, with a threat/promise of never moving back into that house again, that I’ll be homeless first. I was moving in with a coworker and his girlfriend. I had grown very close with his girlfriend since he introduced us, wasn’t his biggest fan, but I needed out of that house. The three of us, and my boyfriend who moved in officially like a month later, had a small, two story condominium together. 2 bedrooms, 1.5 bathrooms. Enough space for all four of us. Until I learned that my coworker didn’t know/care about bounderies. Since he as comfortable with himself and didn’t care about a closed door or a shirt or names written on leftovers, neither did anybody else.

The first week of living together, I was already regretting moving in with them. In the course of 7 days I had:

Seen my coworkers dick

Been walked in on multiple times while showering or using the toilet (no lock on the door)

Been walked in on while having sex with my boyfriend (bought a lock that same day)

Had 3 different leftovers eaten

Had all of the soda I bought drank before I even had a can of it myself

Didn’t get told I had a bill from my therapist

Had my female roommate change her clothes in front of me, in my room, while we were talking about Shameless

Had both roommates invade my room to watch the movie Patrick and I were watch, without being invited

Overheard my male roommate having sex with someone that wasn’t his girlfriend (apparently they have an open relationship)

Now, Patrick and I live alone, preparing for the birth of our son (due literally any day now) and I’m working hard to put my foot down about what I need/want. And it needs to be known that what I, as someone who is about to push a baby out of my fucking body, need/want is honestly all that matters right now. I don’t want people staying with us. Yet, for the last three nights, we’ve had people staying with us. Nick two night and last night, their mother. I have told Patrick I don’t want anyone but us (him and I and the baby) staying in our apartment for at least the first week of the alien’s life. I’m scared and pissed off that that isn’t how it’s going to go though.

Patrick’s mom is on disability right now, recovering from a very bad fall she had in the winter. While she is doing much better, she isn’t working so she has nothing but free time. She came down earlier than excpected, as she decided she would like to be around for the birth and to be around for Nick, and will be staying in town until at least mid-June from what I have gathered. So she brought A LOT of stuff with her, as well as gifts for the baby and stuff (food) that can only be bought in her state that we like. I’m trying to have patience when it comes to this, that Nick’s ex basically trashed his apartment while she’s in the process of moving out, that Nick is very ashamed of his situation and doesn’t want his mom in his apartment until it’s less of a wreck, that she won’t be stay with us after the birth. But I’m miserably pregnant, want my space, and this baby out of me. I really don’t care that Nick’s life is a mess right now. If he would just accept his mom’s help, it would be over and done with before my son is even born.

I am giving it one more day, seriously until the end of today, and if I don’t get what I want, I’ll become a bitch and I really don’t care who’s feelings I hurt in the process. After 24 years of invalidation and people not respecting what I want and what I need, and with my son to worry about, I honest to god, can’t be bothered to spare feelings anymore. This is my apartment, my baby, my body. I’m not just a vessel for creating a life that you can take as you please, not just a place you can crash because we have “an extra room”, not your baby. Deal with it or get gone.