#youll need therapy later Im sure

[sassysnowperson]

My thoughts on Ted Lasso S3,E1:

In a shocking turn of events, Jamie Tartt is currently the person least in need of therapy.

[crplpunkklavier]

ok i'm not going to make this one rebloggable, i'm not looking to have a discussion or start beef with anyone, especially not on a holiday. i just grow another stomach ulcer every time people on here get psychology so, so wrong. and i need to get this out or i'll explode.

that original original post is so annoying. why are you guys out there trying to one-up and gotcha your therapists. "why do all adults need therapy then?" they dont. they dont!!!! not all adults need therapy. what the fuck are you talking about.

the next one is also annoying. implying that any kid that "seems resilient" is simply repressing trauma to resurface later is so harmful?? what are you doing. some children are resilient!! it doesn't mean they'll never have problems, or never need therapy, or that they aren't still repressing something. even if a child seems resilient, yes of course it should still receive help. but acting like there is no resilience in children is going to just make people misinterpret actual resilient children and offer the wrong help. you'll end up digging for issues where there are none. assuming that every well-adjusted child is just repressing trauma and every adult needs therapy is a pointless doom mindset that helps nobody.

that FUCKING addition. first of all, that person sure seems to reblog from a lot of terfs. secondly, id love to see their sources. because, yes! there HAVE been a lot of studies on child resilience! and yes, if children receive social support after traumatic incidents, they come out more resilient than if they dont. thats.... not all though? what are you talking about, "ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS a result of the support they receive"?? its. its not. science doesnt work with "always," first of all. no serious study is going to claim that child resilience is "always" a result of support. we cant prove "always." nobody can. secondly, that is a GROSS SIMPLIFICATION of a VERY COMPLEX phenomenon, resilience. we still dont fully understand it. we have spent decades researching it, and we still dont think weve uncovered all factors that lead to child resilience. it is in fact still baffling to science just how resilient children can be, so i also honestly dont see why people are harping on a therapist for saying kids are resilient!! a big majority of them are!! and a big majority of children in fact receive social support!! most studies indicate that social support is in fact an important factor for resilience, but never the only one. if your parents dont support you, someone else might, or if your parents do support you, you still might grow up in the worst shithole in the world, and then sometimes you might come out resilient, sometimes you wont, and we dont know why. genetics could play a role. probably in some way they do, but we dont know how big a role it is. what im saying is, resilience can be the result of support kids receive, AMONG OTHER THINGS. i also dont understand what the fuck that person thinks they mean by "true resilience." resilience that isnt just ~hidden trauma~ i guess which apparently ~all adults~ have anyway.

ok. rant almost over. shit like this just gets me, because i know a lot of you are struggling, and i dont want you to get the wrong ideas about what did or didnt happen to you. some of you may have wonderful parents and youre still struggling and you dont feel resilient, and that doesnt necessarily mean that your parents did something horribly wrong. it may mean that something in your genes isnt working in your favor, or that every environmental factor was working against you and your parents.

or, an alternative that i personally find worse because i myself have struggled with it a lot: you may have horrible parents who didnt support you and you may still feel resilient. and if someone comes along and tells you that you can only be ~truly resilient~ if you had the social support, youll start wondering..... are you misremembering? were people supporting you, and youre being a monster by painting them as bad? are you maybe not resilient at all? are you really fucked up and are going to need therapy because all adults do?

you might. you might not. answers to these things are too complex for tumblr posts, and i certainly wouldnt trust people whose blogs are 50% terf reblogs and who claim that science has "proven" anything or that things are "always" a certain way. nothing ever is.

its shabbat and rosh hashanah so im going to only do the bare minimum here but since i was talking about sources earlier, i will say that if you'd like further reading on just how complex and undecided the research on resilience has been, i would point you, for example (there are so many sources), toward masten's papers "competence and resilience in development" (2006) and "resilience in developing systems" (2007), and sameroff & rosenblum's "psychosocial constraints on the development of resilience" (2006). peace and good night.

[darthnell]

ME TOO im losing my mind about it a little bit (a lot)..

District 2 is such a Place for real… it compels me

Iago loves her ;-; does Not give a shit about the murder! Jdjdsjs

This would’ve always been hard on poor Agate ;-;

Iago was terrified for real ;-; hes not the type to show it like ever but. Ven can tell..

Ven will spend the next many years imagining how she can insert percy and mari into her life at home ;-;

New phone yeah ! :D ALMOST THE SAME LEVEL OF VIOLENCE LMFAO…

Yeah.. percys moms probably have Not cleared out his bedroom.. maybe academy room but.

Ha ha ha… yeah Iago has not forgiven Oberon. Honestly idk if that mf has forgiven Percy for almost killing him at the tournament.. not that he would Say that out loud. Many fun dynamics to explore (: surely this wont be a problem later…!

Venatrix casually dunking her prosthetic into the Trash~

Haha yeah! Thats why she has the charisma of a rock NDSKJSKS.. i also love names so much theyre so fun <3

Ven needs some therapy for real :c

Who me? Wolf references? Neeeeverrrr… awooo… but yeah that was such a fun plot point that made me evil laugh.. (pokes oberon) oh so you are breaking the rules and doing everything in your power to give your daughter an advantage? No sponsor gift for you. Evil man. >:D

Insert that one tweet thats like “moment of silence for everyone whos just like their dad but a girl”

Shout out to continuing the cycle of violence!!! Shout out to victors and especially career victors enforcing the cycle of violence that they were victims of!!! Haha i love it here !

LMAO yeah i mentioned them getting ice cream way pack in part I but i never gave the place a name so i was like. Well i have to make it funny now. But yeah d2 having a specific ice cream flavor for winning the death pageant is SO on brand ckxkdk

The good thing about being really popular and having a reputation of being kind of insane is u can just say shit like that and theyll love you

Yeah friends!!! Now Agate can memorialize all of her dead friends in marble!!! Yay!

Thats a good guess… youll find out officially in like a week but. Rest assured the last scene/chapter makes me Unwell ♥️

Thank you friend ♥️♥️♥️ it’s been so nice to have you along for the ride these past few chapters!! I’m absolutely emo about finishing this thing up and I’m so not ready for it to end.. but it must ;-; such is the way of things… thank you again for the comments and support it’s been really nice to hear from you !! 🫶

Chapter 69: Where I End and Begin

The Victor returns home. It's not how she left it, but then again, neither is she.

[fat-rolls-frictions]

rambling etc etc.

thinking about the conversation with my nonqueer cousin yesterday, and she doesnt know about me yet. how she said mlm relationships are more accepted where i live than wlw, which is strange and befuddling and people still need to get used to them, and idk. sometimes i forget just because beneath the radar doesnt mean life outside is just or right or progressive. dont even get me started on queer genders or aspec identities, which tbh would probably get grouped into the Do You Need Therapy? zone that wlw get put in. thinking also about a video my friend thought was funny, about a father berating her daughter because he thinks she’s sapphic and telling her he can afford her ‘treatment’; about another friend’s sister telling her “girls do that (have flings with other girls) all the time, but im sure youll find a husband later”; about my cousin crying out when she found the jeans i picked to be “unflattering”, specifically because it’s not feminine. just. rotating thoughts in my brain

[cassyapper]

jotaro kujo song analysis: “eight” by sleeping at last

i could not figure out what the fuck to title this for a long time. please forgive me ik it’s awkward but it’s the best i got

anyway the song “eight” by sleeping at last made me mentally ill so let’s get into why <3

here’s a link to the song: https://youtu.be/obi4KCh6eHQ

here’s a link to the lyrics i referenced: https://genius.com/Sleeping-at-last-eight-lyrics

be warned there are part 3, part 4, part 5, and part 6 spoilers in this

with that let’s begin.

“I remember the minute;/it was like a switch was flipped --/i was just a kid who grew up strong enough/to pick this armor up,/and suddenly it fit” Lengthy first line to start this on i know but cutting it up didn’t make sense so please forgive me… Alright let’s get to the meat of this hm? This line is about when jotaro first manifested star platinum. “I remember the minute, it was like a switch was flipped” fits perfectly with how suddenly and obviously star platinum became known to its user, as jotaro first manifests it when he’s in the middle of a fight, a fight star platinum ends very quickly and brutally. The “i was just a kid who grew up strong enough to pick this armor up” is about jotaro having the willpower to control a stand such as star platinum and not get ill over it. He “grew up strong enough to pick this armor up”, this armor being star platinum (which, yes, star platinum is armor more than a weapon because its strength is used to protect. This is stated explicitly in the jin hashimoto song “star platinum” which was written specifically with jotaro/star platinum in mind, as the title suggests). It also shows how young jotaro was re the “kid” description; he was only 17, the youngest jojo up to that point. the “and suddenly it fit” also mixes with how suddenly star platinum manifested, particularly how jotaro gained passable control over it very quickly

“God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago…/I was little, I was weak, I was perfectly naive,/and I grew up too quick.” Another long line im sorry it just doesnt make sense to cut it up 😭 Anyway this is part 6 jotaro reflecting on his past self, PARTICULARLY part 3 jotaro, which explains the “god, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago…” segment “I was little, i was weak, i was perfectly naive” is kinda gold coming from part 6 jotaro cause end of part 3 jotaro is canonically when he’s at his strongest but i dont think part 6 jotaro is talking about star platinum in this line. He’s talking about jotaro being tactless and rude and pushing away his loved aways in a disillusioned attempt to keep them safe. By part 6, jotaro has to have known his coping mechanism of self-imposed isolation wasnt fair to his loved ones/himself and it clearly didnt WORK as evidenced by jolyne’s situation, so he’s cursing his younger self for it here. Hence, the calling of part 3 jotaro “little, weak, perfectly naive.” part 3 jotaro starts making the bed that part 6 jotaro ends up having to lay in and he hates him for it. The “and I grew up too quick” part is jotaro acknowledging his trauma. Even before part 3 started jotaro clearly had issues and they just kept building and building and building from part 3 and on. Combined with his self-imposed isolation, jotaro had to grow up quick to survive, and this line is part 6 jotaro reflecting on that

“Now you won’t see all that i have to lose,/all i’ve lost in the fight to protect it.” Remember the self-imposed isolation i mentioned in the last line? This line is about why jotaro does that. He hates being vulnerable. He hates relying on others. We only see him comfortable trusting others to take care of things ONCE the entire series, during the steely dan arc, when he believes in kakyoin’s abilities to keep joseph safe and get the lovers out of him safely. ONCE out of the four parts he’s featured in, out of the three he’s prominent in. jotaro does this, as i previously mentioned, out of a disillusioned attempt to keep those he loves safe, hence the “now you won’t see all that i have to lose” line. This behavior is solidified in jotaro at the end of stardust crusaders, when the two final times he tried to trust that others would handle it resulted in the deaths of over of half those he cared the most about (he may have gotten joseph back, but don’t forget that joseph did actually die). Thus, this decisive night ties into the “all i’ve lost in the fight to protect it” line. He’s lost loved ones but he won’t lose them again, not in the same way at least. Ironically, the self-imposed isolation only puts his loved ones and himself in danger, but i can get into that later.

“I won’t let you in, i swore never again --/i can’t afford, no, i refuse to be rejected” This line kinda ties back with what i was mentioning in the last line, but it hones it a bit more on jotaro’s complete denial of being vulnerable rather than how he acts to ensure he isnt such. “I wont let you in, i swore never again” is a direct tie-in for how jotaro feels after stardust crusaders; he is never going to get as close to anyone or anything the way he was close to the crusaders ever again. Nothing is ever going to matter to him the same way and he is going to make sure of that, as the “swore never again” implies, because he is certain, at least at first, that this will keep others safe. The “i can’t afford, no, i refuse to be rejected” part goes into how selfish and arrogant jotaro’s mentality is. Don’t get me wrong, jotaro’s self-imposed isolation can be seen as selfless, especially because the main driving force behind it is to keep others safe -- but it’s not the only force driving it. Like i said, jotaro doesn’t want to be vulnerable, and to be sure he doesnt feel that way, he needs to ensure he won’t be hurt. Can’t be sad when people die if you were never close to them, right? So as much as it is to protect others, he also is protecting himself by closing off from others. It’s also arrogant of jotaro to assume he is the deciding factor of who lives and dies, that he gets to choose/manipulate the cycle of life and death by deciding on if he opens up to others. Jotaro had this mentality of being a “deciding factor” shoved into his head during the journey to egypt, and that kinda warps his worldview as a result; everything must be his fault. Things go bad surely because he let them somehow. And it’s not jotaro’s fault he’s ill in the head like this but it is still arrogant, and the “i can’t afford, no, i refuse to be rejected” line attests to this.

“I want to break these bones until theyre better/i want to break them right and feel alive” Oh jotaro you have the shittiest fuckign coping mechanisms Alright. “I want to break these bones until theyre better” ties into jotaro throwing himself into dangerous situations alone. He’s just so so damn convinced he can handle everything himself -- bc again, he is led to believe he is the deciding factor of life and death -- he just has to try. If things go wrong, it’s bc he didn’t try hard enough, hence the “break these bones until theyre better”; jotaro will hurt himself and will be convinced he deserved it until he “learns” how to be perfect like he’s “supposed” to be. But being perfect isnt something you can learn, you mentally ill motherfucker jotaro. anyway “I want to break them right and feel alive” ties into the fact jotaro would rather break his body over and over and over rather than tell his loved ones he cares. The only right way to be hurt to him is taking a hit that was meant for those he loves. Jotaro is very much a man of action rather than a man of word, and this line is about his rather unique way of acting (that is, getting beat the fuck up over and over) Basically jotaro can’t tell the people he loves that he, well, loves them, unless he is literally dying. Examples of what i mean: jotaro preferred going on a perilous, 50-day journey to just telling holly he loved her; jotaro preferred getting beat over the head with a rock in the lovers arc rather than risk hurting joseph; jotaro preferred to literally get blown up by sheer heart attack rather than tell koichi to his face he is a good kid; jotaro stepped knowingly into a trap for jolyne and had to literally believe he was in fact saying his last words before he uttered “i’ve always cherished you.”

“You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong --/my healing needed more than time” Oh my GODDDddDDDdcdd im sobbing as i type jotaro your head is so so damn ill Okay so i see him spitting this line towards joseph. Let me explain Joseph would no doubt pick up on jotaro’s ptsd and he’ll do his best to console jotaro over the deaths of their friends. But see joseph is ALSO an ill in the head idiot whose idea of therapy is electroshock and who calls ptsd “shell shock”. So all he can offer to jotaro is “youll feel better in time” because that was kinda true for him; he managed to move on in time. What joseph fails to realize is what made him feel better was not time, but the support of those remaining in his life (lisa lisa, suziq, erina, smokey). But jotaro listens and tries to give it time but the thing with jotaro is he just gets worse and worse as time wears on because he deliberately cut himself off from anyone who could console him (as well as got continually traumatized throughout his life), so time never helped but actually made things worse. Thus jotaro spitting “you were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong, my healing needed more than time”. In terms of timeline, probably happens right after part 5 jotaro stares longingly at the crusaders picture

“When i see fragile things, helpless things, broken things/i see the familiar” Im sorry every new line i start to analyze i begin crying so im just letting you all know incase the coherency takes a dip (as if this was coherent in the first place lmfao) Anyway so this line in relation to Jotaro is about how he projects HARD on the new generation. We see this w his interactions w josuke and koichi, the “fragile things” (there is no way he didnt see koichi as a filler for kakyoin im sorry. Also he just wants josuke safe with his friends like how he wished he was safe with his own friends as a teenager), how he was wary of giorno, “the helpless things” (jotaro is scared he’ll be similar to his dad, just like jotaro is similar enough to dio to share the same stand power…), and his interactions w jolyne, “the broken things” (angry teen in a prison? Come now). 

“I was little, i was weak, i was perfect too/now i’m a broken mirror” Throwback to the second line. Once again part 6 jotaro is reflecting but the difference here is that part 3 was when jotaro was last unashamedly happy, but more than that, part 3 jotaro was on his way to healing before everything went to shit. like i mentioned earlier, jotaro only relies on someone else completely once, and that happens in part 3. Jotaro is finally able to trust in someone else’s capabilities, which is what he needed to do before he could allow anyone to help him with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Hence, why part 6 jotaro would describe him as “perfect”; because he would’ve been perfect enough if he could just trust in others like that again But as the line suggests, that went wrong. Jotaro is now a “broken mirror,” which alludes to the fact that while he projects onto the kids, the kids (the ones that know him at least) project onto him as well, especially jolyne, because in part 6 she finally figures out her dad’s thought processes, as she is experiencing those patterns of thinking too. Jotaro is a role model for them in the sense of “see him? Do the opposite of what he did” KJ;DNJ;DN;SN

“But i can’t let you see all that i have to lose/all that i’ve lost in the fight to protect it” Same meaning as before mostly but the repetition is important me thinks because it mimics jotaro like frantically trying to remind himself why he must be distant when all he wanted to do was go home to jolyne and be her father

“I can’t let you in --/ i swore never again,/ i can’t afford to let myself be blindsided” This means roughly the same thing as the previous line that’s similar to this, but the “i can’t afford to let myself be blindsided” is less about jotaro’s selfishness/arrogance and more about how he believes enemies will use his loved ones against him and how goddamn, it would work, it would work so well because jotaro loves so, so damn much It’s a shame distancing himself didn’t work the way he wanted it to and ended up making his loved ones even more vulnerable than they would have been otherwise

“I’m standing guard,/i’m falling apart/and all i want to do is to trust you” (Begins screaming and doesn’t stop) okay so this line is about jotaro and jolyne during the beginning of stone ocean “Im standing guard” alludes to the fact that jotaro is still desperately trying to appear distant and uninterested even as he attempts to break his fucking daughter out of prison “I’m falling apart” ties into jotaro failing miserably at remaining cold towards jolyne, how he eventually caves in and tells her he loves her in addition to taking a literal bullet for her, using time stop to ensure he can make it to her to do so. and also this line ties into how he is literally physically shot and how his memories and stand are taken from him “And all i want to do is to trust you” is directed towards jolyne of course. God his whole “i’ve always cherished you” ties in with this line; like i mentioned earlier, jotaro by part 6 knows his self-imposed isolation is useless, but old habits die hard and also he was in very deep by the time he accepted there was no reason to go in the first place at all. So he doesn’t know how to change, he doesn’t know how to trust jolyne, it’d been 20ish years since he last trusted someone completely, but god he wants to. He wants to trust her. It’s all he wants to do hence this line

“Show me how to lay my sword down/for long enough to let you through” So continuing from the last line, jotaro just wants to let jolyne in. he wants to learn how to do that. I think this line is actually directed towards his younger self; 17 year old jotaro managed to let in a person once, after all (more than one person in fact, but all the crusaders). This would also make more sense w my interpretation of how part 6 jotaro calls part 3 jotaro “perfect” in this regard Essentially it’s jotaro thumbing through his memories to figure out how his past self gathered the security to trust in someone else wholeheartedly...which makes the fact that pucci steals his memories particularly fucked up in this context

“Here i am, pry me open/what do you want to know?” Another line directed toward jolyne. “Here i am, pry me open” refers to how after jotaro tells jolyne he cherishes her, all cards are on the table. He’s shown vulnerability, might as well go full throttle. So, he’s willing to talk to jolyne for the first time ever, especially because she’s a stand user now “What do you want to know?” ties into jotaro being willing to open up, but also the fact that jolyne doesnt really know her dad ):

“I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough/to hold the door shut/and bury my innocence” Hhnghg begins wailing this line is again about post-egypt jotaro. A lot of jotaro’s like...emotional maturation (and even some physical) occurred during the trip to egypt and immediately afterward. he’s in pain and desperately trying to rationalize a way he can be in control of never letting something like what happened in egypt happen again, hence the “im just a kid who grew up scared enough” “To hold the door shut” refers to how jotaro cut off other people, even the people who used to know him very well, like joseph and polnareff and holly “And bury my innocence” i mentioned this in another line but this bit also refers to how jotaro had to grow up quickly to survive, considering his self-imposed isolation and his life path of chasing down dio’s remnants

“But here’s a map, here’s a shovel/here’s my Achilles’ heel” This line is SUPPOSED to be directed toward jolyne but inadvertently it is also directed toward pucci. When jotaro says fuck it and gives up on his pretense of disinterest in jolyne, finally letting her know he loves her, he’s finally building the frame of a bridge to jolyne; he’s ready to do what he’s wanted to for so long, no matter how vulnerable it makes him, and that is to be jolyne’s father. However, pucci takes note of this; he knows to aim for jolyne in the final battle because of jotaro’s earlier actions when he tries breaking jolyne out of prison. It really is a shame how the narrative keeps fucking enforcing jotaro’s shitty self-imposed isolation

“I’m all in, palms out, i’m at your mercy now and i’m ready to begin/i am strong, i am strong, i am strong enough to let you in” Hmm i imagine this line being when jotaro meets back up with jolyne after he gets his memory disk back. The first thing he does is hug her and cradle her close to him, showing off to the world, right in front of pucci, how much his daughter means to him. But jotaro, at least for the moment, is not scared to be vulnerable anymore. Ever since he decided to give up his cold facade, he was ready to let jolyne in, and he finally has the chance to do that at least a little right before the final battle, which is what this line is about

“I’ll shake the ground with all my might/i will pull my whole heart up to the surface” Final battle in stone ocean,,, What the “i’ll shake the ground will all my might” line refers to is jotaro’s willingness to use star platinum the world during the battle. He’s ready to go all in to save the world, and most importantly, save jolyne, even if he has to use the source of his greatest trauma to do it. Jotaro’s a key player and he knows it, has known it for a long time, and this time he’s going to use that for his happy ending. And well, as i mentioned in the last line, jotaro’s done with the self-isolation and throws himself into the role of jolyne’s father, at least as much as he has the right to throw himself into. This is mostly what the “i will pull my whole heart up to the surface” line refers to

“For the innocent, for the vulnerable/i’ll show up to the frontlines with a purpose” More stone ocean final battle. The “innocent and vulnerable” jotaro is showing up for are jolyne, namely, but also hermes and emporio, and beyond that, the world. Jotaro understands how serious this is and he’s always been a force meant for protection, so he is here to do just that, which is what the “i’ll show up to the frontlines with a purpose” line refers to. Jotaro doesnt believe he’s a good person -- and he might not be, in the grand scheme of things -- but he does fight for what he believes is right, he always has, he mentions this way back in stardust crusaders during his fight with kakyoin. He’s never going to let injustice stand, especially not when he knows he’s such a key player

“And i’ll give all i have, i’ll give my blood, give my sweat --/an ocean of tears will spill for what is broken” This line actually applies to all the “final battles” jotaro has been involved in; part 3, part 4, and part 6. Jotaro, as i mentioned in the last line, has a strong sense of justice and is a force that first and foremost tries to protect, which the “i’ll give all i have, i’’l give my blood, give my sweat” part of this line refers to. Jotaro gives his all, has given his all, to rid the world of dio’s influence, he ruined his entire fucking life to do so, and this line gives credence to that. “An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken” refers to jotaro mourning all the what-ifs in his life, which are all tied with how the outcomes of these final battles go. If part 3 didnt end the way it did, jotaro would know how to trust still, he wouldve been happy even, maybe he wouldnt have had to sacrifice the rest of his life to dio; if part 4 didn’t end the way it did, maybe jotaro couldve gone home to his daughter, maybe he couldve been a bit of a better dad (this is because kids were involved in part 4 even if they didn’t try to because stand users attract stand users, and jotaro couldnt risk doing that to his daughter, so he ends up never coming home); and now for part 6, jotaro hopes that if it ends just a little better than the previous two, jotaro could at least died a satisfying death of sacrificing himself for jolyne, or maybe even got a chance to try mending his relationship with jolyne if they both survive

“I’m shattered porcelain, glued back together again” So this line speaks to both physical and emotional states Jotaro was physically “shattered porcelain” when he lost his stand and memory and also was shot, and he was “glued back together again” when he got medical attention and jolyne got back his disks Jotaro was emotionally “shattered porcelain” due to the fact he couldnt trust anyone completely since he was 17 goddamn years old but he’s “glued back together again” in the sense he’s ready to finally, finally try and be vulnerable in order to save his relationship with jolyne

“Invincible like i’ve never been” This line hurts so fucking much because i believe jotaro was optimistic, all things considered, at the beginning of the final fight in stone ocean. After all, he knows he’s an important figure in all this, he has his stand disk and memories back, he and jolyne and the others have a plan, and he has a future he wants to fight for in addition to the world’s continued functioning So he feels “invincible” like he’s never felt before because not even during the part 3 final battle with dio did he have the hope for the future he has now. But then. Then pucci brings out the knives. And the man who could control time never had enough in the end. He dies and cant even save jolyne with his death. The world ends. He failed. I think this is perfectly represented with how suddenly the song ends. It just perfectly encapsulates the tragedy that is jotaro kujo and i cant stop fucking thinking about it

thanks for reading all this if you did. jotaro kujo makes me feel mentally ill

[punkscowardschampions]

Ronnie & Joe

Ronnie: still stalking mckenna Joe: what, we can't BOTH like music? Joe: that's gonna be problematic for me tbh Ronnie: mozarts ghost aint gonna possess him in the encore Ronnie: you can fuck off Joe: you can enjoy your night Joe: I'll take my chances Ronnie: take your chances somewhere else Ronnie: or you wont have any Joe: you looking out for me? Joe: not necessary, I promise Joe: you look like you got your hands full as is Ronnie: its a threat Ronnie: shouldnt be necessary Joe: my apologies for making you work harder but its still not cutting it Ronnie: [throws something at him in a dangerous manner watch out everyone] Ronnie: we can both be into cutting Ronnie: not a problem for me Joe: [when he's probably with his flatmate or similar like they will complain honey they basics lmao, meanwhile just like 😏] Joe: careful, people will think you care Ronnie: what fucking people Ronnie: your girlfriend Joe: for one Ronnie: muzzle your bitch or give her shit to sink her teeth into Ronnie: it aint complicated Joe: I don't think not glassing randoms is exactly rocket science either Ronnie: nothing random about you Ronnie: you fucking wish Joe: you want some projection with that Joe: I found you, remember Ronnie: wasnt hiding nancy Ronnie: not still a runaway kid Joe: then don't hide Joe: I weren't looking for you, alright Ronnie: bullshit Ronnie: you said there aint no other bastards Joe: I meant tonight Joe: this is just coincidence, nothing more Ronnie: leave then Ronnie: your buyers remorse is about as welcome as you Joe: hardly Joe: that's not what it is either Ronnie: they were all out of shiny sisters baby Ronnie: take what you can get Joe: I've already got one of them Ronnie: yeah Ronnie: i remember Joe: you don't want a refill then Joe: replace the one you tossed Ronnie: you on the spectrum or do you not wanna read social cues Joe: well I ain't leaving either way but if you don't wanna make the most outta it Joe: 👍 Ronnie: keep putting words in my mouth & see what happens to yours like Joe: what spectrum are you on if you think that constitutes a please and thanks Ronnie: take it up with your ma Ronnie: she wasnt about to teach me how to play nice Joe: not really her forte Ronnie: thats why im still waiting for my plane ticket home yeah Joe: possibly Joe: I don't know Ronnie: 💔 Ronnie: how olds your good sister Joe: jury is out on good Joe: but 14 so we'll wait and see Ronnie: ill fucking drink to that Ronnie: if she was a write off shed already be Joe: depends on your perspective Joe: I try not to have one Joe: [is at bar] Ronnie: depends on your mas Ronnie: we cant all be black sheep Joe: exactly Joe: they don't really get on Joe: but she's probably just dreading the PTSD a teen pregnancy scare will bring Ronnie: should have kept me around Joe: yeah Ronnie: 1 more abortion and your country would offer me a fucking exorcism Ronnie: fun for all the family Joe: some girls have all the luck Joe: would not believe how hard it is for a lad to get one 🙄 Joe: [just putting the drinks for 'em on their table, when Charlie probs gonna flirt with you like oh hey] Ronnie: your girlfriend will let you hold her hand for her 1st Ronnie: stop sticking it in your cello & youll knock her up in no time Ronnie: [just staring at the drink like you've never seen one before] Joe: come on, she's CoE if I've ever seen it Joe: abortions? sure, but exorcisms ❌ Joe: [tryna just walk off but you know they'd be like who are you hello?! 'cos annoying lmao] Ronnie: not in ireland anymore baby Ronnie: [when you walk off like where the fuck have you got to be my dear] Joe: [at least he's not gonna drop the bomb, just being vague af like oh we met once or whatever goodbye] Joe: you gone yourself? 🛫🍀 Ronnie: on whos 💰 Joe: idk, your pals maybe Joe: but I've fucked off so he can at least top up your drink 'cos its long gone too Ronnie: wanker Ronnie: [comes back and punches charlie love you boy] Joe: [just wait 'til you have your own mindblown with that crazy connection boy] Joe: ✊ Ronnie: [gives him the biggest fuck you look ever like I can't believe you typed that] Joe: [just loling a lil 'scuse him company its not at whatever you said] Ronnie: [comes over, ignoring everyone else obvs, to drink his entire drink and walk off again] Joe: [omg stop flirting you two, everyone like what is going on tbh] Ronnie: [dancing with charlie cos he don't take kindly to being punched but you don't wanna answer his questions either] Joe: [save it for later you nosy hoe] Ronnie: [when you see his poor flatmate going to pee and follow her intimidatingly soz bitch] Joe: [this poor girl is in no way prepared lmao] Ronnie: [thinking she's about to get mugged or murdered] Joe: [when you're 18 and its your first time away from home no doubt this poor girl honestly] Ronnie: you deffo she aint catholic Ronnie: could see her in a penguin house Joe: weren't a question on the flatmate icebreakers Joe: shoulda asked for some segregrated accomodation but thought londoners were meant to be post-religion post-everything so Ronnie: 💔 it aint god its you baby Ronnie: shes no londoner Joe: no, I do know that one Joe: she's from Kent, I think Joe: or Surrey? Ronnie: not holy holier than tho Ronnie: u Ronnie: never gonna please a horse girl mckenna Joe: 😏 Joe: I'll not go there then Ronnie: charlies fucking easy to please Ronnie: youve done the 1 drink minimum & youll avoid the pregnancy scare Joe: I think he's the one that does the pleasing Joe: so I've been assured Ronnie: gets him off dont worry like Joe: I'll sleep easy now, tah Ronnie: lullabies are shit but yeah Joe: 🤞 that ain't his encore either Ronnie: if it aint opening an artery to spray the crowd count me the fuck out Joe: I wouldn't hold your breath Joe: though might be more fun Ronnie: [dramatically holds her breath in his direction like kids do] Joe: [just watching 'cos weird and into it] Ronnie: [lowkey going purple probably because you know she won't stop til she hits the deck] Joe: [just watching 'til the last sec when you obvs gonna catch her] Ronnie: [giving him a look when he does like we have to stop meeting like this but then exposing his tattoo wherever that is cos gotta check that really happened] Joe: [I hope you didn't opt for your booty, lol, probably inner bicep moment or something 'cos not that bitch getting those out at any chance] Ronnie: [just touching it like you're not shamelessly flirting with your brother okay then] Joe: [just looking at her face hardcore 'cos you can pretend you're checking her tat too] Ronnie: [when you come back to yourself and remember you're supposed to hate him for being your brother so you push him away unnecessarily hard and retreat to your corner] Joe: [go off to the bathroom yourself boy] Ronnie: [french exit while he's gone even though it'll make Charlie more annoying] Joe: [have fun Joseph] Joe: you missed the bloodbath Ronnie: made my own Joe: safer bet Joe: on all counts Ronnie: safer for your girlfriend Ronnie: & you Joe: you know she ain't my girlfriend Ronnie: no shit you dont wanna claim that conquest Joe: wrong again Joe: not gonna bang my flatmate who pays the bigger part of the rent 'cos she gets the en-suite Joe: give me some credit Ronnie: shed give you some if you gave it up to her Ronnie: but if youd rather pay rent Joe: there's no way I can keep that going 4 years Ronnie: she aint hacking it Ronnie: you can fucking smell the homesickness Joe: its like, down the road init Joe: ugh Ronnie: & Ronnie: she cant fit her horse in the en suite baby Joe: 😂 Joe: true..I'll make some rich friends to move in when she gallops off into the sunset then Ronnie: theyll not slum it with you for 4 years Joe: but I'm so charming Joe: what's the solution then, sis? Ronnie: sell yourself or kill yourself Joe: 👌 Joe: already with ya Ronnie: yeah dead connected us Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: you're the only one that's allowed to be suicidal? Ronnie: oldest cunt gets dibs Ronnie: aint that how this sibling shit plays Ronnie: whatever you wanna do ive already done it Joe: half the time Joe: but the other half is youngest gets away with it 'cos they're cuter so Ronnie: cause theyre a crybaby Ronnie: yeah you can have that soft lad Joe: 😥 bit of a prerequisite for the suicide Joe: so generous Ronnie: i left you alive so you can do yourself in Ronnie: since youve got such a boner for it Ronnie: generosity begins & ends Joe: You can stop thinking about my boners then Joe: that'll be my attempt at the virtue Ronnie: put em away Joe: you tryna expose me Ronnie: you dont need my help Ronnie: flashers keep more hidden than you Joe: really Joe: don't seem like that's something that would bother you Ronnie: youre that special mckenna Ronnie: every fucking thing you do bothers me Joe: 💘 Joe: check facebook some more, I'll keep my events up to date Joe: can avoid each other easy Ronnie: nah you see me you walk the other way Joe: I got places to be babe Ronnie: yeah a&e Ronnie: if you dont get the fuck outta my face Joe: see, you're well about it Joe: I got it, yeah, we're not family Ronnie: were nothing Ronnie: & if thats what gets you off pay for it like the other cunts do Ronnie: not my 9-5 Joe: I found Soho by myself, don't worry Joe: we're good Ronnie: boss Ronnie: stay there Joe: more expensive than Sophie's horse that Ronnie: train her up to be whatever the fuck you want then Ronnie: 4 years in she could probably kiss with tongue like Joe: you gotta ask yourself why you care Joe: 'cos I know Ronnie: i dont have to ask myself fuck all Joe: deny it then Joe: works for me Ronnie: theres no need to deny theres cunts i wanna talk to less than you Ronnie: or i that i gotta have something to do while i wait Ronnie: 💘 Joe: you're all talk Joe: say no more Ronnie: fuck you Joe: yeah fuck me Ronnie: stick your therapy speak in whatever hole you reckon can take it Ronnie: ill reverse over your head before i submit to this psychology bullshit Joe: not what I'm studying Joe: or doing Ronnie: you reckon if you say im all talk itll get you some action Ronnie: dream on motherfucker Ronnie: i dont look like her that much Joe: bold assumption Ronnie: nah Ronnie: charlies more like a brother than you & ive done everything there is to do to that tosser Joe: bold to assume I'm half as fucked up as you Joe: spent long enough telling me I can't be 'cos I got a ma and now I wanna fuck her, okay Ronnie: wearing it on your sleeve aint you though baby Ronnie: saw your arm & yeah i reckon halfs about right Ronnie: but me at 19 wouldve left you in more pieces than that Joe: you must be proud Ronnie: what the fuck of Joe: your 19 year old self Ronnie: youd have liked me better at 9 Joe: alright but a nonce joke is hardly original Ronnie: neithers wanting to fuck your ma Ronnie: read a book schoolboy Joe: that's you throwing that about Joe: not one I ask the prozzies to act out tah Ronnie: what the fuck else was your lil challenge about then Joe: what was yours? Ronnie: i didnt fire any shots shithead Joe: not true Joe: i got the 🍒 to prove it Ronnie: fuck me youre that cunt Ronnie: 1 sos & i owe you my life yeah Joe: where'd you hear that Joe: what was it, needle not clean or something Ronnie: you dont need to wait for a death that slow Ronnie: fucking do it Joe: why do you do it Ronnie: why do you give a shit what i do Joe: interesting Joe: why do you fuck with your face like that Ronnie: too late to keep it pretty for you Ronnie: should have nancy drewed this shit earlier Joe: you ain't gonna answer Joe: alright Ronnie: cant we both like pain Ronnie: is that your problem Joe: 'course Joe: no monopoly on that shit Joe: its universal, so the books say Ronnie: bullshit do you read fuck all else but sheet music Joe: not no more Joe: but i can read more than scales, like Joe: have to write essays and shit sometimes Ronnie: fucking hell Ronnie: save this riveting shit for your flatmates Joe: she does art Joe: dunno what the lad does, he's out his room less than me Ronnie: horse cocks out of clay like Ronnie: bet shes the professors pet Joe: 🤞 she gets in an ill-advised affair with a pervy prof Ronnie: every other repressed white bitch has done it Joe: my home is safe Joe: hooray Ronnie: til i sleuth your address Joe: then its petrol bombs and dog shit, I know Ronnie: after theres fuck all left to steal Ronnie: 🤡s in films 🔥💸 Joe: and eat six year old's arms Joe: crack on Ronnie: i aint bitten any kids since i was Joe: I'm proud even if you ain't then Ronnie: raise the bar baby Joe: guess the other lad you were with don't technically count no more Joe: actual kids are that annoying Ronnie: kids get to be annoying Joe: lucky ones Joe: the ones that get to be kids Ronnie: no shit Ronnie: youll be born & die a saint Ronnie: such a fucking martyr Joe: when God comes a calling, you can't refuse, obvs Joe: guess that's what she gets for not aborting you, nice bonus for being good Ronnie: yeah Joe: likes a joke as much as the next Joe: gutted for her Ronnie: cant take the scouse sinner out of her however much irish catholic dick shes taken since Ronnie: 💔 Joe: if its only paddys in heaven, I'll lose the invite Ronnie: you better stay in purgatory then Ronnie: dont want you in hell with me Joe: you're just jealous I'll be too busy getting tortured by some other demon Joe: you're alright, anguishing over my wrongs for eternity sounds like a bit of me Joe: I can hack it, more painful than being sodomized with pitchforks or whatever weak shit you're in store for Ronnie: wanna see your cum face even less Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: 😂 Joe: shh, you already know he's got that sick sense of humour Joe: your own clockwork orange moment for eternity now Ronnie: 💘 Joe: you ain't nothing like I thought when I was 🔎🤔 Ronnie: cheers for the romantic cliche you pussy Joe: you're that special Joe: and welcome Ronnie: what did you reckon id be like Joe: like the rest of 'em Joe: complete the cliche Ronnie: fuck off Joe: what, I did Joe: there ain't a bigger compliment, honestly Ronnie: i dont wanna hear your compliments Ronnie: or how big they are Joe: 😏 Joe: you asked Ronnie: cause i cant resist hearing how fucking soft you are Joe: that makes you pretty fucking soft yourself then don't it Ronnie: fuck you Joe: back here, yeah Ronnie: back at get someone else to knock you out Joe: shouldn't be hard Ronnie: depends how hard you are Ronnie: could be a turn on or off Joe: either way, its incentive for them to go harder Joe: can't lose, me Ronnie: enjoy yourself baby Joe: never Joe: if I lose my overwhelming urge to die what have I got Ronnie: new overwhelming urges Joe: won't be that good Ronnie: write it in your diary i didnt ask for your review Joe: you can do that you know Joe: they've all got profiles, like they're a shit local pub or something Ronnie: what a fucking state Joe: won't miss it when I'm in pugatory Ronnie: if i had a shot for every time you cried your eyes out id miss that Joe: you'd miss having a liver Joe: and functioning braincell Ronnie: didnt mean that kind of shot shithead Joe: your aim is for shit, true Ronnie: or that one Joe: ahh Ronnie: you had me at dirty needles 💘 Joe: s'worth being alive for, then? Ronnie: what the fuck waste of a question is that Joe: why? Ronnie: what do you think Joe: reason I'm asking Joe: if its just another slow way to kill yourself then I'm sound but if its more than that then its a potential for the repertoire Ronnie: if it was id have taken a faster way out Joe: its noted Ronnie: why do you wanna die Joe: its not even Joe: I ain't actually sad, soz to burst your 😥 bubble, IOU some shots, whatever Joe: just wanna turn my head off, not have to participate Joe: deal with any of it Joe: but saying you wanna be put in a coma doesn't quite have the same punch Ronnie: underline that note then Joe: yeah? Joe: not like I've never thought about it Joe: think about it a lot, hence the need for a fucking switch Joe: how cliche to look like I'm doing it to spite her though, eh? Ronnie: whatever you take now thats strawberry flavoured childhood bullshit Ronnie: youve found your prescribed dose of working adult medicine Joe: it don't touch it, not worth taking unless you wanna down half a blister at a time and have a decent kip Joe: get me some and I'll pay you 20% for your trouble Ronnie: come over Ronnie: told you im waiting Joe: alright Joe: if I ask for your current location do I give away that I'm not a decent stalker Ronnie: youve fucking shown that card bitch Joe: figured Joe: be obliging then Ronnie: [a location of who the fuck knows where cos we don't need Charlie or Bronson there for this excuse you lads] Joe: [when you need some privacy for your bonding] Ronnie: [when you need some privacy to shoot up your half brother who you ain't even told your other fam about] Joe: [fun and games] Joe: cool Joe: 🤞 i'm there just after the heroin Ronnie: get here before or ill be in no state to keep obliging you Joe: I'm yet to be initiated, my timekeeping skills are 🔥 Ronnie: give a shit about your cv Joe: I'll be there Ronnie: your loss if you aint Ronnie: dont come crying to me Ronnie: i wont hear it for fucking ages Joe: i'm not an idiot Ronnie: it dont matter who or what you are Ronnie: stopped listening after the ill be there Joe: 💘 Ronnie: get it tattooed next yeah Joe: yeah Ronnie: over the real fucker Ronnie: cause you love a cliche Joe: 'course Joe: have to find another dickhead with a gun though Joe: that one did not know his left from his right Ronnie: get what you pay for baby Ronnie: & we didnt Joe: touche Joe: I'll forgo accuracy for that Joe: and the dirty needle, obvs Ronnie: getting to put his hand on my tit will blow the brains he has like Joe: 😏 Ronnie: but if i toss him off thatll get shit back on track Joe: hot Joe: love that you have a plan Ronnie: cute Ronnie: you reckoning im pure chaos Ronnie: not your manic pixie dream skank Joe: ain't planning on being a composer Joe: least not now Joe: don't need to write about you Ronnie: 💔 Joe: make up your mind Ronnie: you aint on my mind mckenna Ronnie: dont get your balls in a twist Joe: do you wanna be on mine or not Ronnie: i know whats on yours Joe: same Joe: makes a change Ronnie: compose a song about your confusion then like Joe: less cliche than a love song Joe: still Ronnie: do it from the pov of the horse Ronnie: be a hit with your flatmate Joe: you just wanna get me stalked Joe: paybacks a bitch, yeah Ronnie: wanna get your habit paid for before you start it Ronnie: throw her a boner Ronnie: whats the fucking drama Joe: i don't fancy her Joe: nor having the convo about where all her moneys going Ronnie: & Ronnie: i dont fancy the cunt with the tattoo gun Ronnie: got fuck all to do with it Joe: & Joe: you're lowering standards, not getting anything up Ronnie: close your eyes & think of gear Ronnie: youll do anything for a horse like that Joe: let me try it first Ronnie: dont need to hear about your trust issues baby Joe: better stop talking now then Ronnie: yeah Ronnie: shut the fuck up Joe: [you know when its like 'removed message' that] Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: what Ronnie: i cant cut your sense of humour out Ronnie: cant live with it Joe: no funny business Joe: just a buttdial Ronnie: charlie aint here but adorable that you 2 homos hit it off Joe: just scousers gotta stick together or did you know him from back home Ronnie: he didnt give you the rundown Ronnie: mustve made him speechless mckenna Joe: too busy trying to work out how I knew you Ronnie: we grew up together Ronnie: & the mime standing next to us Joe: cool Ronnie: nah Ronnie: fucked Joe: I mean that you still know 'em, talk to 'em Ronnie: we aint trying to throw our family away for a new one Joe: like I said, s'cool Ronnie: like i said hes gonna eat that shit up Ronnie: you fawning over his family set up Joe: good to know Joe: not really my type either, call me fussy Ronnie: fucks sake Ronnie: join the god squad now & save yourself the 12 steps Joe: 'cos I don't wanna do a bloke or my horse girl roommate Ronnie: cause you only wanna do your ma Joe: you can't just give me dud options and come to that conclusion Ronnie: we playing fuck marry kill now Joe: not playing nothing with you Joe: cheater Ronnie: crybaby Joe: you'll 😥 when I have to kill your mate Ronnie: you wish Joe: making people cry is your thing Joe: I don't need to fight that claim Ronnie: like you aint been wanting to save me again since the 1st time Ronnie: thats your thing yeah Joe: save you from what? Joe: smack? obviously not Joe: other self-destructive tendencies? try again Ronnie: it obviously dont matter Ronnie: id never seen you & id still never seen a cunt more excited to do a rescue Joe: and I'd never seen you Joe: maybe you'd got all kinds of fucked up 'cos of all the shit I dragged up Joe: basic decency ain't nothing to get excited about Ronnie: i know how to self soothe im a big girl now Joe: didn't need you self-soothing yourself to death on my conscience Ronnie: didnt ask you to give a shit Ronnie: catholic guilts best left at home baby Ronnie: youll never find a place with the cockneys Joe: about myself? Joe: its barely but hanging on by a thread Joe: soz Joe: dead girls fuck you up Ronnie: not your type either then Joe: ultimate type Joe: don't wanna commit right now, tah Ronnie: 🤞 i od & you can finally sort your misery boner out Joe: too giving you Ronnie: im dead i aint giving a shit Joe: put that on the headstone Ronnie: pay for it you write whatever cliche you want Joe: you want a classy picture affair Joe: got it Ronnie: stop getting me Ronnie: it makes me wanna blow my brains out Joe: its obvious you wanna be seen Joe: no spooky sibling connection required Ronnie: fuck off Joe: what's better than ruining a graveyards ambiance for the mourners for the forseeable Ronnie: theres no room in the ground soft lad Joe: they just chuck you in with the old bones Joe: or 'move' them Ronnie: hot Joe: mhmm Joe: plague pit is the way to go Ronnie: fit the horse & the girl Ronnie: how fucking romantic Joe: that's me Ronnie: ill put john in the 💘 for you baby Ronnie: your ma robbed you blind of so many lennon comparisons Joe: still time to be pretentious with soph Joe: fuck off getting out of bed for good Ronnie: smother her with a pillow & fuck her corpse youll be feeling peace & love Joe: 💎🍓💘 Ronnie: playing with emojis & yourself aint getting you here Ronnie: hurry up Joe: can't make you any closer Ronnie: 💔

[it-is-ok-i-am-ok]

Wait, why are you getting kicked off social security and state aid? 💕💕

Sorry for the late reply. This story is wild from start to end so hang on for the ride

Long story short, the original problem was that SS has to start counting my boyfriend and I as married, which like….no. They said they have to for two reasons (mostly because of reason one), but I do understand don’t get me wrong.

1. We signed for a timeshare together. 

2. He put me as his beneficiary for his life insurance. 

Now, let me explain. 

I went into the timeshare thing (you know the usual like being shown this shit blah blah blah) being like nope we aint buying. (We had to go through it to get something we won or something which in the end was BS gift) We go into “Signing” room and I’m like nope, nada. But then everything just went…so wrong. Long story short, I’m obviously on disability for a reason ok. (I was granted both physical and mental but I won my case in five minutes because of my mental LOL). People who have mental illnesses, especially borderline personality disorder probably understand me on this one. Condo: I couldn’t get out, as hard as I tried. My boyfriend, he’s obviously my BOYFRIEND not my HUSBAND because he still don’t get it all (like my mum who is my representative in every aspect except the stupid payee which makes it “official”). So he like didn’t understand what he was doing was bad and my ques of like holy shit this needs to stop not like my momma. Finally I was like ok ok ok what the fuck ever but it’s your timeshare I want nothing of this, we break up its yours. Then they come back and say because of his credit he couldn’t. So then here we go I immediately feel guilt (without anyone having to say anything more) and my guilt problems cause me anxiety problems which causes me to do the stupidest shit on earth like my guilt problems are legit one of the beggist things i work on in therapy. So they assured me, If i put my name it’s like being a co-signer bleh bleh bleh. It’s in our contract that he pays. While signign they were even like you can read the contract later if you just wanna sign now. Like it was that fucked up.

The beneficiary whatever. Jonathan told me he had to put someone or that was his understanding and lemme telll you, im the only choice. I was assured it could be changed and this wasn’t permanent because I dont want that kinda commitment. I just idk I didn’t think anything of it and just thought i was helping someone because i have another problem with ovre-compassion as i call it lol.

So fast forward she tells me ight well we gotta count you as married. And I’m like WHAT NO I WILL LOSE EVERYTHING. and she omfg she’s like “well you don’t know that” and I’m like bitch…I know I’m right.

Well guess fucking what, yes I would lose everything. Even tho his money, his work, we aint sharing it it aint joint bank account wahbam, fuck me right.

Now, wouldn’t this be your first clue that you shouldn’t count as us married (one of first things I asked):

“Well, what if we break up!?” She then told me blah blah blah I have a year then i’m fucked. Then for like 1.5 hour we talked and at the end she got it, I was a blubbering mess. So she was like ok i aint promising anything because if someones doing this stuff, I put them as married end of story….but i’m gonna send you, your bf, and mom able to write statements blah blah. 

Then as the end it was very lightly mentioned “Oh wait..you might no matter what lose stuff because it’s a resource” but it was said like no real concern. I then realized later hell fucking yeah it’s a concern.

So my mum and I are talking and I’m like this is bananas, it aint like oh man i signed on the dotted line and i regret it…it’s like I have a mental illness that makes it so sometimes uhmmmm I may act rash, or be influenced etc DUH. And then BAM. It just hit me.

A WEEK PRIOR I HAD LITERALLY BEEN IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL. Not 2 weeks, not 1.5 week but a WEEK. I was in there because I was on a medication that was making me plan out my suicide….I was released because the agreed I was safe enough to at least not KILL myself. Not because I was 100% off the med or 100% ok in the membrane. And then i had this vague memory that I signed this shtit leaving the hospital about how I’m not mentally capable of making any life decisions or something. (Their way of saving my ass I guess). I get a call back on monday about that if I did.

So my mom talked to this bomb ass lawyer and long story short I’m 99.9999999% sure I’m gettingout of this contract. 

So ok that solves that problem. And considering again sign contract acting married wasn’t mentally 100% shouldn’t count for married either. And seeing how she was really believing me long story short….

No, I now don’t think I will lose everything. 

I want to set the record straight tho, I just days ago thought I was losing 

1. Social security income

2. Medicare

Then she said the state probably wouldn’t kick me off because they’re more leniant with “marriage” thing. But the resource thing oh man, then I would have also lost

1. I would have went from SS income to state income, but nope nevermind

2. medicaid gone. 

So I would be worth $0 a month, and I mean I would have my parents insurance but I can’t afford that deductable and copay shit, and also Im gonna be 26 eventually. So that means I would be reliable on my boyfriend 100% (which like uhh our relationship is so up and down like no thank you I wanna be able to move out if I want/have to). And his income barely covers one person let alone two. (We did the math if we lost everything and we’d be lucky if we had $50 for the week after paying everything and that’s if we baby how much we spend for gas, food etc). 

This would also mean I’d lose my medicaid appointment transportation which FYI my PT is an hour and 10 minutes away, but then again I couldn’t afford to go anyways to anything. As my convo with my driver went

“Damn, you wouldn’t even be able to work if they forced you….because of how many appointments you have.” 

-me “You know now…they’ll say ‘well cause ya lost everything… youll have plenty of time now LOL”

-her: “And then you woudn’t even be able to work with your “free time” because you need your appoointments to function!”

-me: “EXACTLY” 

So appointments, medications, treatments (Botox anymore? LOL RIGHT and I just got approved for Hetlioz look up that babies price MEGA LOL), affording my car/insurance, my apartment (can’t afford this place no more), internet (if I even could continue school), sadly my lovely rats, my income etc GOOOOONE.

So lets all pray to the gods of the disabled that my contract gets cancelled and I don’t lose everything and actually legit….die. LOL

I went from Wednesday facing the fact that I’m going to die, to friday holy shit I am saved god bless my borderline brain

So moral of the story is my mom is probably going to become my payee, and try to prevent me from getting emotionally influenced or emotionally rash into things, and now my boyfriend nows ques etc. He also obviously knows to NEVER do something like this again. I have also learned that I know I obviously have a brain that works differently and makes even the simpilest things hard, but I’m going to mention in therapy how I want to work on this and we can try to at least (if I can’t able to say no) make my ques known and obviously to jonathan. To talk more beforehand about things and plans, and also make trusted others know what I am ok with and am not. 

[necroticarachnidism]

> Cae: Be Ridiculous.

necroticarachnidism

Being kidnapped isn't the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Your captors were certainly trying their best to be cruel, but the holding cell they shoved you in after their deranged "traps" wasn't as claustrophobic as it could've been, and incredibly clean. There was even one entire piece of unnecessary furniture, in the form of an incredibly cheap and tacky folding screen. The only problem is that it's always inevitably interrupted by-

"HOW ARE YOU TWO DOING IN THERE? LOOKS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A PRETTY GOOD TIME! NOT."

That.

You and Dualscar both groan at the voice you've become far too accustomed to over the course of this trip. At the very least the ringleader and their cronies were here in the flesh, though, which was marginally better than having to hear them abuse a squeaky intercom.

The leader pulls a set of handcuffs out of their pocket and starts spinning them around on their finger before they almost immediately fly off and fall to the ground. After picking it up they almost try again before deciding against it and handing the handcuffs to one of the other gang members.

"I'm going to need you to cooperate with my friend here. We're doing something special tonight, and it needs a helping hand from each of you."

trolljacksparrow

"Why, can't you...HANDle it yourself? You know it'll just get out of hand otherwise." You hate yourself sometimes, you really do.

It could be worse, they could be competent.

However, incompetent as they are, you are Not going along for the ride. They've been haranguing you and your friend for DAYS! You're not giving them an inch! So instead, you muster up a defensive snarl. Its difficult to be mad at them, considering how pathetic they are, but you try to think about how awful your hair looks after a week of neglect anx that gives you the Power necessary to access your battle face.

You jab a clawed finger in their general direction, fins flaring. "Listen....fuck you." Okay, try again.

You put up your dukes and bare your impressively large teeth. "Do you think we'll just hand ourselves over? Hell no! Come get some, motherfucker." Yeah the cmere  finger gesture is happening. Yeah.

necroticarachnidism

You also hate him sometimes, the puns get him a light smack on the arm. The gang seems rather happy about him playing along, though, because of course they are.

Which is then immediately squandered by his attempts to stand up to them. The one with the handcuffs growls a little and takes a step foward before being stopped by the leader.

"Listen," they say, rather flatly "we can do thi-"

"The easy way or the hard way, yes," you interject. "He's picking the hard one, please do continue."

They sigh at you, you sigh back louder, they sigh again and don't stop their associate from creeping closer as they try to engage Dualscar in a hissy match. The leader then makes a solid attempt at fishing their keys out menacingly.

"I'd prefer this not get violent, but if you really insist..."

caepaecaesurae

The tension was somehow starting to mount, despite the competence of half those involved, and threat hung in the air for nearly a second and a half before someone's phone rang.  It was tinny the first time, soft, as if just as uncertain as their captors, but quickly gained in confidence.  There was just enough time to momentarily doubt whether they had heard correctly when it called out again, more firmly, a second or two later.

Someone was definitely calling one of them, and it sounded suspiciously like the default ringtone of a popular chat program.  ...but where was it COMING from?

trolljacksparrow

Waitwaitwait theyre ACTUALLY gonna fight you??? Ohhhhohohoh fuck yesss you're gonna do ART THERAPY with their insides when---

You just look around in disbelief. After all, it cant be you.

"We're having this showdown type thing, and your phone is ringing? How are you that bad at paying attention and looking proper intimidating? What's next, I find out you had another nemesis on the side?? I'm almost hurt - and you wonder why im not going along with this? For all I know youll mistake our legs for arms and tie our feet together!" Cross your arms, huff, tut tut maybe.

......Remember what you were doing and uncross them, going back to posturing. "Anyway, violence for the violentblood - and honestly, do you really think you can take me? "

caepaecaesurae

Ring...    ...was it off to Nadaya's left?

necroticarachnidism

As the ringing started the leader immediately turned to the member of the group who hadn't been part of this incident with a very accusing look. Said member simply gestured to their form-fitting and clearly pocket-less outfit, then to the one with the handcuffs. The one with the handcuffs almost said something, then was immediately interrupted by Dualscar's monologue.

That pissed them off.

"I don't have a fucking phone! None of us having a fucking phone, holy shit, the only thing I have-" They trail off, realizing that they do in fact have something and pulling it out. It's some kind of gun, loaded with a vial. "The only thing I have is this! To drug your dumb ass again!"

"We're a real knockout with drugs." adds the catsuit one.

That was true, at least by comparison to everything else. Not only had they managed to drag you here in the first place but they had their hands on something that could fuck with your mind control. It was the one of the few things they'd actually pulled off.

Meanwhile, to Nadaya's left, the ringing sounds distinctly like it's off to your right. But they took your items, so if it's not them then...? You take a curious step closer and look intently at the area it sounds like it's coming from.

caepaecaesurae

Nadaya's claws tingled faintly, the fourth time it rang, on just his left hand.  Why was the ringing coming from so close by?  It seemed to be following the tips of his fingers, especially the thumb and little finger claws.

trolljacksparrow

Okay okay wow you are going to MURD--what. "Okay a real knockout with the drugs being plural is a bad pun since youre the only one vaguely knockouty and also quit it with the drugs okay what the fuck," you trail off just staring into your hand, and bringing it up to your face, digits with tingling sensations first. "What the fuck," indeed.

caepaecaesurae

His hand rang at him, right in his face, very distinctly.

trolljacksparrow

.........You make a phone gesture with the fingers. "What??????"

caepaecaesurae

There was a soft audible click, and a deep, familiar voice answered in a wry, almost affectionate tone.  "WVhere are you?"

necroticarachnidism

Catsuit winked at the half compliment but this was quickly overshadowed by...whatever was happening.

You personally were looking at this with clear curiosity instead of pure what the actual fuck.

trolljacksparrow

Okay, its. Sounding like your kismesis. Your magic, hope god kismesis. Oh, thank god, you're not losing your mind.

"Caesurae?? Honey is that you?? Gotta hand it to you, this is a brilliant way of contacting me," At this point, though, you were really looking forward to beating people up!

"Gimme two secs I'm gonna kick some ass first," and you deathgrin at your enemies, still talking in your hand.

caepaecaesurae

"Brilliance is one of my better traits," the voice agreed humbly.  "If you're sure, dear, I can call back in a fewv minutes, just wvanted to hear your vwoice."

Apparently the magic hand might actually let Nadaya handle this on his own if no one interjected.

necroticarachnidism

Nadaya's opponent is more baffled than enraged right now, but starts approaching the cell again when ass kicking is mentioned.

You are having none of that.

"Okay, pardon me, but I am not going to let you hang up on your fucking magic kismesis so this idiot can try to stab you."

caepaecaesurae

"Oh, hello!  Say, can you pass her the phone?"

trolljacksparrow

"Okay thats....fair enough I guess? I mean he wouldn't succeed, but, yeah. Can yall hold on on the death maze bullshit for a moment? Trés bitchinnnn'," and you pass Mindfang the....hand. You put her hand to her face.

caepaecaesurae

At some moment during the awkward fumbling, his claws would stop tingling and hers would start.

necroticarachnidism

There's almost a protest at Nadaya putting your hand to your face but you know what, you can't think of a reason for that not to work, it might as well, this is fine. Copy the phone gesture Nadaya was making.

"Caesurae, please tell me you have something planned, nobody else here does."

caepaecaesurae

"I wvas hoping to figure out wvhat wvas going on wvith you twvo, and if you needed a ride back."

trolljacksparrow

You can't help the smile on your face, you spent a week being unable to contact anyone and you miiiissed theeeeemmm... "We're starring in saw for idiots!" You add, hopefully loud enough to be heard.

necroticarachnidism

"We've been kidnapped and harrassed by mororns. Nadaya is apparently fine here fighting them but I'd quite like a way out."

That gets the group responsible looking around. Was...something going to happen?

caepaecaesurae

"Alright my dear.  I'd like you to try to accept a vwideo call, so I can send you something.  I'm sending the request nowv."

"Just... do your best."

trolljacksparrow

"You can teleport wwhy cant you just send us a phone, " This is getting Ridiculous.

necroticarachnidism

The word 'teleport' only makes the kidnappers more antsy. Meanwhile you...try your best. You make a rectangle with your hands.

caepaecaesurae

The rectangle filled with moving light!  There sure was a giant, slightly relieved looking Ampora sitting in a nice-ish livingroom.  He gave her a smile, adjusted something out of frame, and said -- "--There, I'vwe got wvhat I need."  He took a step back, produced a portable one-use transport pad, and spun it in his hands once, and then looked back towards her with a peculiar look of concentration...

...and it disappeared, and reappeared on the floor at her feet.

"--Dearest, I promise, there's a method here."

trolljacksparrow

"....You beautiful, angelic man you." Holy. Fuck. You offer Mindfang the crook of your arm like a gentleman or some shit, fins and ears perked up. "And you lot " with a menacing look at the assorted kidnappers, "better never brighten our nights again."

necroticarachnidism

Make sure the transportalizer is armed, and then absolutely take that arm, you are now the picture of elegance (minus all the appearance neglect).

After a moment the kidnappers try to scramble for the door, fumbling with the keys, but nowhere near fast enough to catch the two of you before you port away to...wherever this will take you.

caepaecaesurae

Mindfang and Dualscar are whisked away to Nadaya's ship -- and then the device they just left explodes behind them in a colorful fireball.  It might be enough to knock the saw wanna-be's off their feet, but probably not injure any of them unless they use the wrong hair products and are slow to put it out.

The moment her hands parted, Caesurae lost his connection to the video call -- but he scratched his chin, considered, and gave it a few long seconds.

...then Nadaya's pants rang.  If Nadaya swatted at his beltline to refuse the call, he'd laugh and consider it good.

trolljacksparrow

"Absolutely fucking not. I fucking hate him. Are you hearing this shit Sicari? I truly hate him."

You swat at your belt like your pants are on fire!

"Also hey Mindfang if you wanna like....use the bath here or sleep or whatever go ahead its all good - I'm gonna go....cling to him gleefully, honestly." You just. You are just Attention Starved by now.

necroticarachnidism

Rather undignified giggling at the swatting. Amporas.

"I think I'll take you up on that. I might drop by in a few hours to thank Caesurae personally, since it sounds like he'll be here for a while."

caepaecaesurae

The pants obediently stopped ringing when Nadaya refused the call.  Caesurae would be more than happy to apply attention to his missing and beloved quadmate, and to meet with Mindfang later.

trolljacksparrow

"Hey now," he couldnt contest that though. "Hey...now...listen." yeah. Yyyeaaah. Yeah, Nad's gonna dissappear to his quarters for a change of clothes at the least, and transportalize over to be very grateful and very tired at Caesurae - adrenaline barely let him sleep - but mostly just to be delighted and cuddle him.

caepaecaesurae

Caesurae missed him, and is glad he's back, and will happily cuddle him through a nap.

trolljacksparrow

The most affectionate nap. The most.

[shg11]

When Kevin Braddock hit rockbottom, he had every intention of killing himself. He recounts what happened next and reveals why so few men ask for help

It was a Monday when Robin Williams killed himself three years ago Monday 11 August 2014. His death was shocking even if in hindsight it shouldnt have been a surprise that the worlds funniest man might also be the most sorrowful, too a person despairing to the point of ending it all.

Its a date I remember well, because Id spent the previous day trying to do the same thing. I was in the psychiatric ward of the Berlin hospital which Id been manhandled into by friends the day before, and I was waiting to see the doctor whod asked me to promise that I wouldnt kill myself.

In her consultation room Id thought about it for a while; Id already told her all I could about what led me to try to die. Id described the methods looping ceaselessly through my mind as I was slumped on the pavement near Berlins TV Tower: the gun, the noose, the blade, the pills, the bottle. The gun, the noose the mantra that would not stop. Since the only thing to hand was the nearby sptkauf (off-licence), Id resolved to drink my way to unreality.

Id told the doctor my history of depression, anxiety, panic attacks, drink, drugs, meds, love and fear, my crises of faith and existential dread, and all the other things that seem to go with being human in the 21st century. I had few words left in me, but mumbling through endless tears with my hands in my lap, Id mouthed the words to her: I promise.

I hadnt gone through with the act, but God knows Id wanted to wanted to end it all and wanted it all to end. I was outpatiented for a while, and friends and loved ones looked after for me. Three years later, they still do.

How had things got so bad? In 2009, fed up with London, I bought a one-way ticket to Tegel with vague plans to hang out for a couple of months and run the Berlin marathon. Two months turned into six, then a year and eventually half a decade in that beautifully confused city. In the teeth of this current crisis, Id been struggling to hold things and myself together at the magazine where I was working. Id begun, falteringly, to deal with the dependencies that had got a grip on me (Id long been a heavy, problematic drinker, and Berlin is an easy city in which to hedonise, although by the standards of Berghain regulars, I was a total lightweight).

Meanwhile, depression and anxiety, old adversaries which Id suffered incapacitating episodes with at 21 and 30, had begun ranging back on to my neurological horizons. Id also caught glandular fever, fallen in love, and turned 42 which, as readers of Douglas Adams know, is the meaning of life. I was perpetually stressed, exhausted and despairing at work and it didnt take much for the cascade to begin: yet another work problem, a row, some piece of bad news.

Looking back, Im surprised at how fast I unravelled, how the energyless fog of depression condensed into an electric psychosis, how despair became madness. One day, one of my editors had asked if I was all right. I said: No, Im not, and started listing conflicts and confusions. (I was also surprised that she asked: I mean, its generally not the way that bosses look out for their employees.) A few days later I was in hospital.

Madness comes at you fast, to paraphrase the social media clich.

None of this is to equate my life or story with Robin Williamss in any way, apart from to say that I made it through what the doctor wrote down as a schwere (major) depressive episode, whereas Williams didnt, and Im thankful that one of us is around to talk about this stuff. Above all, Im grateful I found the courage to ask for help.

Facebook gets a lot of stick these days, but in one sense it kept me alive, because Facebook was where I asked for help in a status update that Sunday afternoon which read: Im at the bottom now, can a German speaker come to St Hedwigs with me, I need help, along with my phone number.

I dont know how long Id been there, or how many bottles of Augustiner beer to the worse I was. But I do remember an alternative thought forming from the cognitive murk: I could ask for help. Sure, everyone would see what a pitiful, drunken, helpless, tearful state I was the opposite of what Id prefer to project, yet also the truth. But the thought came: theres another way. I couldnt speak, I seemed to have been silenced, but there was my phone I could test the limits of this thing which helps people (and I quote) connect with friends, family and other people you know.

Keep talking: Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective is turning a network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in.

After a few minutes the phone went red hot, bleeping, flashing and ringing. I was hardly in a suitable frame of mind to process these messages, but looking at them a few days later, they said things like: Youll get through this; Stay positive; You are loved; and simply Love you. Some friends offered places in which to recuperate, others offered to come over. Not only was I ashamed at the alarm Id caused, I was also shocked at the volume of support that came through. There turned out to be more in the world than blank nothingness after all.

Help came, and rapidly. Friends took me to the hospital, and my life began to change.

Whether its an effect of social media or not, recently theres been a wave of men admitting to anxiety, depression or addiction, or of having attempted to kill themselves, or knowing someone whos seen the act through, problems which respect neither class, race, age or status and which, statistically and anecdotally, seem to be on the rise.

When Stormzy or Prince Harry admit that they, too, have feelings, struggles and doubts, these confessions challenge the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. They also represent a tacit plea for help, a kind of Save me from what Im supposed to be, which usually means autonomous, successful, potent, dominant, along with all the other clichs of whats been termed hegemonic masculinity.

And when another male celebrity Ant McPartlin being the latest checks into rehab, you sense that the work being done by organisations such as the Campaign Against Living Miserably (which aims to raise awareness of mental illness and prevent suicide in men) or Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective (which is turning a worldwide network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in) is vital.

People are opening up more instead of hiding; things are getting better, says Chapman from his salon in Torquay. Men are starting to feel comfortable talking to one another about their worries, problems and self-doubts, or going to see a GP or a health professional. Chapman decided to set up the Lions Barber Collective as a charity engaged with mens mental health awareness after a friend killed himself. Theres something about the relationship between a barber and their client where theres complete trust, he says.

The Campaign Against living Miserably cites figures from the Office for National Statistics that suicide currently stands as the biggest single killer of men aged under 45 in the UK. In 2014, there were 6,109 suicides in the UK, of which 76% were male. The ratio of male to female suicide has shown a sustained rise over the past 30 years. In 1981, men accounted for 62% of suicides, with the figure rising to 70% in 1988, 75% in 1995 and 78% in 2013.

All of which is why its heartening that in recent years the conversation on the meaning of masculinity has been growing in volume, running parallel to a wider openness on mental illness and health in society today.

The Royal Foundations Heads Together charity harnesses Princes William and Harry and the Duchess of Cambridge to a mission encouraging people to open up about these problems. At a speech given on World Mental Health Day in October 2016, Prince Harry said: Too often we think mental health problems are things that happen to other people, not us. But we will all experience pressure on our mental health at some point during our lives. The more we accept that, the better we can help each other. Catching it and recognising it early saves lives. Its time we ended the shame around mental health the fear of judgment that stops people talking or getting help.

When Stormzy admits he, too, has struggles, it challenges the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. Photograph: Shirlaine Forrest/WireImage

A few months after my breakdown I returned to the UK and spent a deep, grey winter with my tirelessly patient parents, in the room where I grew up. News arrived one day of a family friend whod taken an overdose thankfully she survived. And on a train one evening I fell into an initially sheepish conversation with a woman in her 50s, each of us cryptically tiptoeing around what we both guessed was going on in each of us.

Well, Ive been ill, I told her, rather euphemistically.

Me, too, she said. Er mind if I ask what kind of ill?

It took some gentle work to overcome a barrier of shame between us, but once we had, the talk became extraordinarily candid and affirming. Shed been visiting her support group. She recounted details of her own psychotic episodes and an attempt to kill herself, then handed me an A4 pamphlet simply entitled My Story, which was heartbreaking along with being one of the bravest, most honest stories Id ever read. We made friends and resolved to stay in touch.

My own story developed, too. I spent a year living monastically in a friends boxroom in Bristol, discovering that recovery is a process rather than a destination, a project of constant modifications and setbacks with modestly miraculous breakthroughs that convince you that life is worth living. Things that have helped me include: learning, sobriety, therapy, meds, volunteering, tai chi, vitamin B, walking, talking, working and much more.

Something else helped. A few days after being taken to hospital, someone I hadnt seen for a decade read my Facebook message and wrote to say: From now on, Kev, be completely honest and open about this stuff. Confront it all head on. And seeing as youre a writer, write it all down. I was consoled by his concern, but also perplexed as to why he was so adamant about this tactic. It turns out his sister had taken her own life.

Recently I was back in Berlin to share the story I wrote down with the people who picked me up and kept me going. It turned into a book I made with my friend Enver, called Torchlight: a Publication About Asking for Help, which details my experiences of breakdown and recovery.

If that sounds like a rather crass sales pitch at the end of a story of common human dysfunction, Id counter that by saying that while we are overwhelmed by digital technologies these days, theres a striking lack of social technologies to assist people in asking for help, talking about their experiences, or sharing the methods they use to deal with the darkness. Facebook offered me the chance to ask for help, but any recovering Ive been fortunate enough to do has been social in the original sense of the word: person-to-person, with friends, family, therapists, study groups, recovery fellowships, sympathetic employers and colleagues, with people I met randomly on trains or in rooms, always in collaboration with others. Recovery is a social exercise that can be assisted but never replaced by digital technologies.

Something else I know now is that we fall apart, alone and in private, but we heal together, with others, the ones who arent shocked or scared by what they see when the mask of shame is removed.

At torchlightsystem.com you can buy Kevins book Torchlight, watch his short film and purchase Practice Cards which offer hints for daily living when suffering from depression and anxiety. The Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123, and Mind on 0300 123 3393

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/aug/13/why-do-men-suffer-depression-in-silence

[pedrowells24-blog]

why do men suffer depression in silence?

When Kevin Braddock hit rockbottom, he had every intention of killing himself. He recounts what happened next and reveals why so few men ask for help

It was a Monday when Robin Williams killed himself three years ago Monday 11 August 2014. His death was shocking even if in hindsight it shouldnt have been a surprise that the worlds funniest man might also be the most sorrowful, too a person despairing to the point of ending it all.

Its a date I remember well, because Id spent the previous day trying to do the same thing. I was in the psychiatric ward of the Berlin hospital which Id been manhandled into by friends the day before, and I was waiting to see the doctor whod asked me to promise that I wouldnt kill myself.

In her consultation room Id thought about it for a while; Id already told her all I could about what led me to try to die. Id described the methods looping ceaselessly through my mind as I was slumped on the pavement near Berlins TV Tower: the gun, the noose, the blade, the pills, the bottle. The gun, the noose the mantra that would not stop. Since the only thing to hand was the nearby sptkauf (off-licence), Id resolved to drink my way to unreality.

Id told the doctor my history of depression, anxiety, panic attacks, drink, drugs, meds, love and fear, my crises of faith and existential dread, and all the other things that seem to go with being human in the 21st century. I had few words left in me, but mumbling through endless tears with my hands in my lap, Id mouthed the words to her: I promise.

I hadnt gone through with the act, but God knows Id wanted to wanted to end it all and wanted it all to end. I was outpatiented for a while, and friends and loved ones looked after for me. Three years later, they still do.

How had things got so bad? In 2009, fed up with London, I bought a one-way ticket to Tegel with vague plans to hang out for a couple of months and run the Berlin marathon. Two months turned into six, then a year and eventually half a decade in that beautifully confused city. In the teeth of this current crisis, Id been struggling to hold things and myself together at the magazine where I was working. Id begun, falteringly, to deal with the dependencies that had got a grip on me (Id long been a heavy, problematic drinker, and Berlin is an easy city in which to hedonise, although by the standards of Berghain regulars, I was a total lightweight).

Meanwhile, depression and anxiety, old adversaries which Id suffered incapacitating episodes with at 21 and 30, had begun ranging back on to my neurological horizons. Id also caught glandular fever, fallen in love, and turned 42 which, as readers of Douglas Adams know, is the meaning of life. I was perpetually stressed, exhausted and despairing at work and it didnt take much for the cascade to begin: yet another work problem, a row, some piece of bad news.

Looking back, Im surprised at how fast I unravelled, how the energyless fog of depression condensed into an electric psychosis, how despair became madness. One day, one of my editors had asked if I was all right. I said: No, Im not, and started listing conflicts and confusions. (I was also surprised that she asked: I mean, its generally not the way that bosses look out for their employees.) A few days later I was in hospital.

Madness comes at you fast, to paraphrase the social media clich.

None of this is to equate my life or story with Robin Williamss in any way, apart from to say that I made it through what the doctor wrote down as a schwere (major) depressive episode, whereas Williams didnt, and Im thankful that one of us is around to talk about this stuff. Above all, Im grateful I found the courage to ask for help.

Facebook gets a lot of stick these days, but in one sense it kept me alive, because Facebook was where I asked for help in a status update that Sunday afternoon which read: Im at the bottom now, can a German speaker come to St Hedwigs with me, I need help, along with my phone number.

I dont know how long Id been there, or how many bottles of Augustiner beer to the worse I was. But I do remember an alternative thought forming from the cognitive murk: I could ask for help. Sure, everyone would see what a pitiful, drunken, helpless, tearful state I was the opposite of what Id prefer to project, yet also the truth. But the thought came: theres another way. I couldnt speak, I seemed to have been silenced, but there was my phone I could test the limits of this thing which helps people (and I quote) connect with friends, family and other people you know.

Keep talking: Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective is turning a network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in.

After a few minutes the phone went red hot, bleeping, flashing and ringing. I was hardly in a suitable frame of mind to process these messages, but looking at them a few days later, they said things like: Youll get through this; Stay positive; You are loved; and simply Love you. Some friends offered places in which to recuperate, others offered to come over. Not only was I ashamed at the alarm Id caused, I was also shocked at the volume of support that came through. There turned out to be more in the world than blank nothingness after all.

Help came, and rapidly. Friends took me to the hospital, and my life began to change.

Whether its an effect of social media or not, recently theres been a wave of men admitting to anxiety, depression or addiction, or of having attempted to kill themselves, or knowing someone whos seen the act through, problems which respect neither class, race, age or status and which, statistically and anecdotally, seem to be on the rise.

When Stormzy or Prince Harry admit that they, too, have feelings, struggles and doubts, these confessions challenge the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. They also represent a tacit plea for help, a kind of Save me from what Im supposed to be, which usually means autonomous, successful, potent, dominant, along with all the other clichs of whats been termed hegemonic masculinity.

And when another male celebrity Ant McPartlin being the latest checks into rehab, you sense that the work being done by organisations such as the Campaign Against Living Miserably (which aims to raise awareness of mental illness and prevent suicide in men) or Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective (which is turning a worldwide network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in) is vital.

People are opening up more instead of hiding; things are getting better, says Chapman from his salon in Torquay. Men are starting to feel comfortable talking to one another about their worries, problems and self-doubts, or going to see a GP or a health professional. Chapman decided to set up the Lions Barber Collective as a charity engaged with mens mental health awareness after a friend killed himself. Theres something about the relationship between a barber and their client where theres complete trust, he says.

The Campaign Against living Miserably cites figures from the Office for National Statistics that suicide currently stands as the biggest single killer of men aged under 45 in the UK. In 2014, there were 6,109 suicides in the UK, of which 76% were male. The ratio of male to female suicide has shown a sustained rise over the past 30 years. In 1981, men accounted for 62% of suicides, with the figure rising to 70% in 1988, 75% in 1995 and 78% in 2013.

All of which is why its heartening that in recent years the conversation on the meaning of masculinity has been growing in volume, running parallel to a wider openness on mental illness and health in society today.

The Royal Foundations Heads Together charity harnesses Princes William and Harry and the Duchess of Cambridge to a mission encouraging people to open up about these problems. At a speech given on World Mental Health Day in October 2016, Prince Harry said: Too often we think mental health problems are things that happen to other people, not us. But we will all experience pressure on our mental health at some point during our lives. The more we accept that, the better we can help each other. Catching it and recognising it early saves lives. Its time we ended the shame around mental health the fear of judgment that stops people talking or getting help.

When Stormzy admits he, too, has struggles, it challenges the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. Photograph: Shirlaine Forrest/WireImage

A few months after my breakdown I returned to the UK and spent a deep, grey winter with my tirelessly patient parents, in the room where I grew up. News arrived one day of a family friend whod taken an overdose thankfully she survived. And on a train one evening I fell into an initially sheepish conversation with a woman in her 50s, each of us cryptically tiptoeing around what we both guessed was going on in each of us.

Well, Ive been ill, I told her, rather euphemistically.

Me, too, she said. Er mind if I ask what kind of ill?

It took some gentle work to overcome a barrier of shame between us, but once we had, the talk became extraordinarily candid and affirming. Shed been visiting her support group. She recounted details of her own psychotic episodes and an attempt to kill herself, then handed me an A4 pamphlet simply entitled My Story, which was heartbreaking along with being one of the bravest, most honest stories Id ever read. We made friends and resolved to stay in touch.

My own story developed, too. I spent a year living monastically in a friends boxroom in Bristol, discovering that recovery is a process rather than a destination, a project of constant modifications and setbacks with modestly miraculous breakthroughs that convince you that life is worth living. Things that have helped me include: learning, sobriety, therapy, meds, volunteering, tai chi, vitamin B, walking, talking, working and much more.

Something else helped. A few days after being taken to hospital, someone I hadnt seen for a decade read my Facebook message and wrote to say: From now on, Kev, be completely honest and open about this stuff. Confront it all head on. And seeing as youre a writer, write it all down. I was consoled by his concern, but also perplexed as to why he was so adamant about this tactic. It turns out his sister had taken her own life.

Recently I was back in Berlin to share the story I wrote down with the people who picked me up and kept me going. It turned into a book I made with my friend Enver, called Torchlight: a Publication About Asking for Help, which details my experiences of breakdown and recovery.

If that sounds like a rather crass sales pitch at the end of a story of common human dysfunction, Id counter that by saying that while we are overwhelmed by digital technologies these days, theres a striking lack of social technologies to assist people in asking for help, talking about their experiences, or sharing the methods they use to deal with the darkness. Facebook offered me the chance to ask for help, but any recovering Ive been fortunate enough to do has been social in the original sense of the word: person-to-person, with friends, family, therapists, study groups, recovery fellowships, sympathetic employers and colleagues, with people I met randomly on trains or in rooms, always in collaboration with others. Recovery is a social exercise that can be assisted but never replaced by digital technologies.

Something else I know now is that we fall apart, alone and in private, but we heal together, with others, the ones who arent shocked or scared by what they see when the mask of shame is removed.

At torchlightsystem.com you can buy Kevins book Torchlight, watch his short film and purchase Practice Cards which offer hints for daily living when suffering from depression and anxiety. The Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123, and Mind on 0300 123 3393

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/aug/13/why-do-men-suffer-depression-in-silence

[gaylemccoy972-blog]

why do men suffer depression in silence?

When Kevin Braddock hit rockbottom, he had every intention of killing himself. He recounts what happened next and reveals why so few men ask for help

It was a Monday when Robin Williams killed himself three years ago Monday 11 August 2014. His death was shocking even if in hindsight it shouldnt have been a surprise that the worlds funniest man might also be the most sorrowful, too a person despairing to the point of ending it all.

Its a date I remember well, because Id spent the previous day trying to do the same thing. I was in the psychiatric ward of the Berlin hospital which Id been manhandled into by friends the day before, and I was waiting to see the doctor whod asked me to promise that I wouldnt kill myself.

In her consultation room Id thought about it for a while; Id already told her all I could about what led me to try to die. Id described the methods looping ceaselessly through my mind as I was slumped on the pavement near Berlins TV Tower: the gun, the noose, the blade, the pills, the bottle. The gun, the noose the mantra that would not stop. Since the only thing to hand was the nearby sptkauf (off-licence), Id resolved to drink my way to unreality.

Id told the doctor my history of depression, anxiety, panic attacks, drink, drugs, meds, love and fear, my crises of faith and existential dread, and all the other things that seem to go with being human in the 21st century. I had few words left in me, but mumbling through endless tears with my hands in my lap, Id mouthed the words to her: I promise.

I hadnt gone through with the act, but God knows Id wanted to wanted to end it all and wanted it all to end. I was outpatiented for a while, and friends and loved ones looked after for me. Three years later, they still do.

How had things got so bad? In 2009, fed up with London, I bought a one-way ticket to Tegel with vague plans to hang out for a couple of months and run the Berlin marathon. Two months turned into six, then a year and eventually half a decade in that beautifully confused city. In the teeth of this current crisis, Id been struggling to hold things and myself together at the magazine where I was working. Id begun, falteringly, to deal with the dependencies that had got a grip on me (Id long been a heavy, problematic drinker, and Berlin is an easy city in which to hedonise, although by the standards of Berghain regulars, I was a total lightweight).

Meanwhile, depression and anxiety, old adversaries which Id suffered incapacitating episodes with at 21 and 30, had begun ranging back on to my neurological horizons. Id also caught glandular fever, fallen in love, and turned 42 which, as readers of Douglas Adams know, is the meaning of life. I was perpetually stressed, exhausted and despairing at work and it didnt take much for the cascade to begin: yet another work problem, a row, some piece of bad news.

Looking back, Im surprised at how fast I unravelled, how the energyless fog of depression condensed into an electric psychosis, how despair became madness. One day, one of my editors had asked if I was all right. I said: No, Im not, and started listing conflicts and confusions. (I was also surprised that she asked: I mean, its generally not the way that bosses look out for their employees.) A few days later I was in hospital.

Madness comes at you fast, to paraphrase the social media clich.

None of this is to equate my life or story with Robin Williamss in any way, apart from to say that I made it through what the doctor wrote down as a schwere (major) depressive episode, whereas Williams didnt, and Im thankful that one of us is around to talk about this stuff. Above all, Im grateful I found the courage to ask for help.

Facebook gets a lot of stick these days, but in one sense it kept me alive, because Facebook was where I asked for help in a status update that Sunday afternoon which read: Im at the bottom now, can a German speaker come to St Hedwigs with me, I need help, along with my phone number.

I dont know how long Id been there, or how many bottles of Augustiner beer to the worse I was. But I do remember an alternative thought forming from the cognitive murk: I could ask for help. Sure, everyone would see what a pitiful, drunken, helpless, tearful state I was the opposite of what Id prefer to project, yet also the truth. But the thought came: theres another way. I couldnt speak, I seemed to have been silenced, but there was my phone I could test the limits of this thing which helps people (and I quote) connect with friends, family and other people you know.

Keep talking: Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective is turning a network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in.

After a few minutes the phone went red hot, bleeping, flashing and ringing. I was hardly in a suitable frame of mind to process these messages, but looking at them a few days later, they said things like: Youll get through this; Stay positive; You are loved; and simply Love you. Some friends offered places in which to recuperate, others offered to come over. Not only was I ashamed at the alarm Id caused, I was also shocked at the volume of support that came through. There turned out to be more in the world than blank nothingness after all.

Help came, and rapidly. Friends took me to the hospital, and my life began to change.

Whether its an effect of social media or not, recently theres been a wave of men admitting to anxiety, depression or addiction, or of having attempted to kill themselves, or knowing someone whos seen the act through, problems which respect neither class, race, age or status and which, statistically and anecdotally, seem to be on the rise.

When Stormzy or Prince Harry admit that they, too, have feelings, struggles and doubts, these confessions challenge the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. They also represent a tacit plea for help, a kind of Save me from what Im supposed to be, which usually means autonomous, successful, potent, dominant, along with all the other clichs of whats been termed hegemonic masculinity.

And when another male celebrity Ant McPartlin being the latest checks into rehab, you sense that the work being done by organisations such as the Campaign Against Living Miserably (which aims to raise awareness of mental illness and prevent suicide in men) or Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective (which is turning a worldwide network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in) is vital.

People are opening up more instead of hiding; things are getting better, says Chapman from his salon in Torquay. Men are starting to feel comfortable talking to one another about their worries, problems and self-doubts, or going to see a GP or a health professional. Chapman decided to set up the Lions Barber Collective as a charity engaged with mens mental health awareness after a friend killed himself. Theres something about the relationship between a barber and their client where theres complete trust, he says.

The Campaign Against living Miserably cites figures from the Office for National Statistics that suicide currently stands as the biggest single killer of men aged under 45 in the UK. In 2014, there were 6,109 suicides in the UK, of which 76% were male. The ratio of male to female suicide has shown a sustained rise over the past 30 years. In 1981, men accounted for 62% of suicides, with the figure rising to 70% in 1988, 75% in 1995 and 78% in 2013.

All of which is why its heartening that in recent years the conversation on the meaning of masculinity has been growing in volume, running parallel to a wider openness on mental illness and health in society today.

The Royal Foundations Heads Together charity harnesses Princes William and Harry and the Duchess of Cambridge to a mission encouraging people to open up about these problems. At a speech given on World Mental Health Day in October 2016, Prince Harry said: Too often we think mental health problems are things that happen to other people, not us. But we will all experience pressure on our mental health at some point during our lives. The more we accept that, the better we can help each other. Catching it and recognising it early saves lives. Its time we ended the shame around mental health the fear of judgment that stops people talking or getting help.

When Stormzy admits he, too, has struggles, it challenges the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. Photograph: Shirlaine Forrest/WireImage

A few months after my breakdown I returned to the UK and spent a deep, grey winter with my tirelessly patient parents, in the room where I grew up. News arrived one day of a family friend whod taken an overdose thankfully she survived. And on a train one evening I fell into an initially sheepish conversation with a woman in her 50s, each of us cryptically tiptoeing around what we both guessed was going on in each of us.

Well, Ive been ill, I told her, rather euphemistically.

Me, too, she said. Er mind if I ask what kind of ill?

It took some gentle work to overcome a barrier of shame between us, but once we had, the talk became extraordinarily candid and affirming. Shed been visiting her support group. She recounted details of her own psychotic episodes and an attempt to kill herself, then handed me an A4 pamphlet simply entitled My Story, which was heartbreaking along with being one of the bravest, most honest stories Id ever read. We made friends and resolved to stay in touch.

My own story developed, too. I spent a year living monastically in a friends boxroom in Bristol, discovering that recovery is a process rather than a destination, a project of constant modifications and setbacks with modestly miraculous breakthroughs that convince you that life is worth living. Things that have helped me include: learning, sobriety, therapy, meds, volunteering, tai chi, vitamin B, walking, talking, working and much more.

Something else helped. A few days after being taken to hospital, someone I hadnt seen for a decade read my Facebook message and wrote to say: From now on, Kev, be completely honest and open about this stuff. Confront it all head on. And seeing as youre a writer, write it all down. I was consoled by his concern, but also perplexed as to why he was so adamant about this tactic. It turns out his sister had taken her own life.

Recently I was back in Berlin to share the story I wrote down with the people who picked me up and kept me going. It turned into a book I made with my friend Enver, called Torchlight: a Publication About Asking for Help, which details my experiences of breakdown and recovery.

If that sounds like a rather crass sales pitch at the end of a story of common human dysfunction, Id counter that by saying that while we are overwhelmed by digital technologies these days, theres a striking lack of social technologies to assist people in asking for help, talking about their experiences, or sharing the methods they use to deal with the darkness. Facebook offered me the chance to ask for help, but any recovering Ive been fortunate enough to do has been social in the original sense of the word: person-to-person, with friends, family, therapists, study groups, recovery fellowships, sympathetic employers and colleagues, with people I met randomly on trains or in rooms, always in collaboration with others. Recovery is a social exercise that can be assisted but never replaced by digital technologies.

Something else I know now is that we fall apart, alone and in private, but we heal together, with others, the ones who arent shocked or scared by what they see when the mask of shame is removed.

At torchlightsystem.com you can buy Kevins book Torchlight, watch his short film and purchase Practice Cards which offer hints for daily living when suffering from depression and anxiety. The Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123, and Mind on 0300 123 3393

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/aug/13/why-do-men-suffer-depression-in-silence

[bradporter65-blog]

why do men suffer depression in silence?

When Kevin Braddock hit rockbottom, he had every intention of killing himself. He recounts what happened next and reveals why so few men ask for help

It was a Monday when Robin Williams killed himself three years ago Monday 11 August 2014. His death was shocking even if in hindsight it shouldnt have been a surprise that the worlds funniest man might also be the most sorrowful, too a person despairing to the point of ending it all.

Its a date I remember well, because Id spent the previous day trying to do the same thing. I was in the psychiatric ward of the Berlin hospital which Id been manhandled into by friends the day before, and I was waiting to see the doctor whod asked me to promise that I wouldnt kill myself.

In her consultation room Id thought about it for a while; Id already told her all I could about what led me to try to die. Id described the methods looping ceaselessly through my mind as I was slumped on the pavement near Berlins TV Tower: the gun, the noose, the blade, the pills, the bottle. The gun, the noose the mantra that would not stop. Since the only thing to hand was the nearby sptkauf (off-licence), Id resolved to drink my way to unreality.

Id told the doctor my history of depression, anxiety, panic attacks, drink, drugs, meds, love and fear, my crises of faith and existential dread, and all the other things that seem to go with being human in the 21st century. I had few words left in me, but mumbling through endless tears with my hands in my lap, Id mouthed the words to her: I promise.

I hadnt gone through with the act, but God knows Id wanted to wanted to end it all and wanted it all to end. I was outpatiented for a while, and friends and loved ones looked after for me. Three years later, they still do.

How had things got so bad? In 2009, fed up with London, I bought a one-way ticket to Tegel with vague plans to hang out for a couple of months and run the Berlin marathon. Two months turned into six, then a year and eventually half a decade in that beautifully confused city. In the teeth of this current crisis, Id been struggling to hold things and myself together at the magazine where I was working. Id begun, falteringly, to deal with the dependencies that had got a grip on me (Id long been a heavy, problematic drinker, and Berlin is an easy city in which to hedonise, although by the standards of Berghain regulars, I was a total lightweight).

Meanwhile, depression and anxiety, old adversaries which Id suffered incapacitating episodes with at 21 and 30, had begun ranging back on to my neurological horizons. Id also caught glandular fever, fallen in love, and turned 42 which, as readers of Douglas Adams know, is the meaning of life. I was perpetually stressed, exhausted and despairing at work and it didnt take much for the cascade to begin: yet another work problem, a row, some piece of bad news.

Looking back, Im surprised at how fast I unravelled, how the energyless fog of depression condensed into an electric psychosis, how despair became madness. One day, one of my editors had asked if I was all right. I said: No, Im not, and started listing conflicts and confusions. (I was also surprised that she asked: I mean, its generally not the way that bosses look out for their employees.) A few days later I was in hospital.

Madness comes at you fast, to paraphrase the social media clich.

None of this is to equate my life or story with Robin Williamss in any way, apart from to say that I made it through what the doctor wrote down as a schwere (major) depressive episode, whereas Williams didnt, and Im thankful that one of us is around to talk about this stuff. Above all, Im grateful I found the courage to ask for help.

Facebook gets a lot of stick these days, but in one sense it kept me alive, because Facebook was where I asked for help in a status update that Sunday afternoon which read: Im at the bottom now, can a German speaker come to St Hedwigs with me, I need help, along with my phone number.

I dont know how long Id been there, or how many bottles of Augustiner beer to the worse I was. But I do remember an alternative thought forming from the cognitive murk: I could ask for help. Sure, everyone would see what a pitiful, drunken, helpless, tearful state I was the opposite of what Id prefer to project, yet also the truth. But the thought came: theres another way. I couldnt speak, I seemed to have been silenced, but there was my phone I could test the limits of this thing which helps people (and I quote) connect with friends, family and other people you know.

Keep talking: Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective is turning a network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in.

After a few minutes the phone went red hot, bleeping, flashing and ringing. I was hardly in a suitable frame of mind to process these messages, but looking at them a few days later, they said things like: Youll get through this; Stay positive; You are loved; and simply Love you. Some friends offered places in which to recuperate, others offered to come over. Not only was I ashamed at the alarm Id caused, I was also shocked at the volume of support that came through. There turned out to be more in the world than blank nothingness after all.

Help came, and rapidly. Friends took me to the hospital, and my life began to change.

Whether its an effect of social media or not, recently theres been a wave of men admitting to anxiety, depression or addiction, or of having attempted to kill themselves, or knowing someone whos seen the act through, problems which respect neither class, race, age or status and which, statistically and anecdotally, seem to be on the rise.

When Stormzy or Prince Harry admit that they, too, have feelings, struggles and doubts, these confessions challenge the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. They also represent a tacit plea for help, a kind of Save me from what Im supposed to be, which usually means autonomous, successful, potent, dominant, along with all the other clichs of whats been termed hegemonic masculinity.

And when another male celebrity Ant McPartlin being the latest checks into rehab, you sense that the work being done by organisations such as the Campaign Against Living Miserably (which aims to raise awareness of mental illness and prevent suicide in men) or Tom Chapmans Lions Barber Collective (which is turning a worldwide network of barber shops into safe spaces for men to open up in) is vital.

People are opening up more instead of hiding; things are getting better, says Chapman from his salon in Torquay. Men are starting to feel comfortable talking to one another about their worries, problems and self-doubts, or going to see a GP or a health professional. Chapman decided to set up the Lions Barber Collective as a charity engaged with mens mental health awareness after a friend killed himself. Theres something about the relationship between a barber and their client where theres complete trust, he says.

The Campaign Against living Miserably cites figures from the Office for National Statistics that suicide currently stands as the biggest single killer of men aged under 45 in the UK. In 2014, there were 6,109 suicides in the UK, of which 76% were male. The ratio of male to female suicide has shown a sustained rise over the past 30 years. In 1981, men accounted for 62% of suicides, with the figure rising to 70% in 1988, 75% in 1995 and 78% in 2013.

All of which is why its heartening that in recent years the conversation on the meaning of masculinity has been growing in volume, running parallel to a wider openness on mental illness and health in society today.

The Royal Foundations Heads Together charity harnesses Princes William and Harry and the Duchess of Cambridge to a mission encouraging people to open up about these problems. At a speech given on World Mental Health Day in October 2016, Prince Harry said: Too often we think mental health problems are things that happen to other people, not us. But we will all experience pressure on our mental health at some point during our lives. The more we accept that, the better we can help each other. Catching it and recognising it early saves lives. Its time we ended the shame around mental health the fear of judgment that stops people talking or getting help.

When Stormzy admits he, too, has struggles, it challenges the Strength Myth which men have long laboured under. Photograph: Shirlaine Forrest/WireImage

A few months after my breakdown I returned to the UK and spent a deep, grey winter with my tirelessly patient parents, in the room where I grew up. News arrived one day of a family friend whod taken an overdose thankfully she survived. And on a train one evening I fell into an initially sheepish conversation with a woman in her 50s, each of us cryptically tiptoeing around what we both guessed was going on in each of us.

Well, Ive been ill, I told her, rather euphemistically.

Me, too, she said. Er mind if I ask what kind of ill?

It took some gentle work to overcome a barrier of shame between us, but once we had, the talk became extraordinarily candid and affirming. Shed been visiting her support group. She recounted details of her own psychotic episodes and an attempt to kill herself, then handed me an A4 pamphlet simply entitled My Story, which was heartbreaking along with being one of the bravest, most honest stories Id ever read. We made friends and resolved to stay in touch.

My own story developed, too. I spent a year living monastically in a friends boxroom in Bristol, discovering that recovery is a process rather than a destination, a project of constant modifications and setbacks with modestly miraculous breakthroughs that convince you that life is worth living. Things that have helped me include: learning, sobriety, therapy, meds, volunteering, tai chi, vitamin B, walking, talking, working and much more.

Something else helped. A few days after being taken to hospital, someone I hadnt seen for a decade read my Facebook message and wrote to say: From now on, Kev, be completely honest and open about this stuff. Confront it all head on. And seeing as youre a writer, write it all down. I was consoled by his concern, but also perplexed as to why he was so adamant about this tactic. It turns out his sister had taken her own life.

Recently I was back in Berlin to share the story I wrote down with the people who picked me up and kept me going. It turned into a book I made with my friend Enver, called Torchlight: a Publication About Asking for Help, which details my experiences of breakdown and recovery.

If that sounds like a rather crass sales pitch at the end of a story of common human dysfunction, Id counter that by saying that while we are overwhelmed by digital technologies these days, theres a striking lack of social technologies to assist people in asking for help, talking about their experiences, or sharing the methods they use to deal with the darkness. Facebook offered me the chance to ask for help, but any recovering Ive been fortunate enough to do has been social in the original sense of the word: person-to-person, with friends, family, therapists, study groups, recovery fellowships, sympathetic employers and colleagues, with people I met randomly on trains or in rooms, always in collaboration with others. Recovery is a social exercise that can be assisted but never replaced by digital technologies.

Something else I know now is that we fall apart, alone and in private, but we heal together, with others, the ones who arent shocked or scared by what they see when the mask of shame is removed.

At torchlightsystem.com you can buy Kevins book Torchlight, watch his short film and purchase Practice Cards which offer hints for daily living when suffering from depression and anxiety. The Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123, and Mind on 0300 123 3393

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/aug/13/why-do-men-suffer-depression-in-silence

[gulescamisade]

MN, Ground:  Day 21

DIRK: -has been up since the wee hours trying to get a signal on the lake house's tv. not only to keep on top of current events, but also to make sure they can catch the show his dad and uncle are planning on broadcasting. he can't miss that... plus, this gives him something to do with his hands. it's a win-win-

SOLLUX: -He can't sleep. It's not a completely unusual occurrence, but it's definitely unwanted when there's so little for him to occupy his mind with. He's frustrated with his own sleeplessness, and he elects to drift around corners of the lake house, smelling his way around and brushing into edges here and there.-

ARADIA: -she's awake also, sitting at a table in the kitchen and staring out the window, watching the scene outside-

[THERE ARE CAR SOUNDS IN THE DISTANCE]

[BROOM BROOM]

SOLLUX: ...wtf?

ARADIA: -car sounds. Yes. as expected- yes it is tf

SOLLUX: thanks aa.

SOLLUX: that really clears things up f0r me.

JAMISON: =Now they they've been freed of all shenanigans (for now) the Mystery Machine pulls up outside a cozy looking cabin. TOO COZY. This van seems a bit too much anyway what with its mounted high-powered rooftop weaponry and a mysteriously stained pyramid ram located on the front.... listen you gotta be prepared. The van stops, we're here. YOU'VE BEEN FREED=

ARADIA: youre welcome

ARADIA: theyre here

SOLLUX: wh0's "they"????

ROSE: -PEERS OUT A WINDOW-

MEULIN: -smushes against the glass up above her-

ARADIA: youll see

ARADIA: hear or smell rather

SOLLUX: i d0n't think i want t0.

ROSE: -SHE JUST SORTA OPENS THE DOOR AND FLOPS OUT.- So. This is the place, yes.

MEULIN: I GUESS SO. -steps out and adjusts her sunglasses in a thoughtful, nerdy sort of way.-

MEULIN: IS EFURRYONE INSIDE?

ROSE: At least several people are inside.

ROSE: I think.

MEULIN: AND IT'S TOTALLY NOT AN AMBUSH.

ROSE: We've been driving for days. I'll take an ambush over a perpetually sore ass.

MEULIN: YOU COULD ASK THEM FOR A BUTT RUB. (｡･ω･｡)

ARADIA: then cover your ears and nose

ROSE: Tempting.

MEULIN: FRIENDS GIVE FRIENDS BUTT RUBS. -sneaks toward the door-

SOLLUX: -flops in a kitchen chair next to Aradia and buries face in her hair. Done.-

ARADIA: there we go

ARADIA: perfect

SOLLUX: mph.

ARADIA: ignorance is bliss

ARADIA: and composed of my hair

SOLLUX: yeph.

MEULIN: -taps on the door and then sneaks to peer into the window-

ROSE: -UNLOADING some crap from the van. Like a bag messily stuffed with laundry.-

MEULIN: HEY, IT'S ARADIA!

ARADIA: -sees meulin at the window and waves excitedly for her to come in-

MEULIN: SHE SAYS TO COME IN.

ROSE: I imagine she would. Do you see anyone else?

MEULIN: YEAH. SOMEONE IN HER HAIR.

ROSE: Okay, good. That means it is legitimate.

ROSE: -BURSTS IN.- I need a washing machine and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

MEULIN: -slinks behind her- HI! ME TOO.

SOLLUX: f0inh the klaa.

ROSE: Aradia, you appear to have something entangled.

ARADIA: -smiles widely at them- hi guys! im glad you made it

ARADIA: -glances solluxward- yes it appears to be a pretty bad knot

SOLLUX: -flips them all off-

ROSE: It's good to see you're safe, too.

MEULIN: COOL.

SOLLUX: hhhf.

DIRK: -walks in on all this and stares at everyone with wide eyes. loses his cool for a second, but whatever he already looked worse for wear. he's just he's so relieved to see them.-

DIRK: Rose.

DIRK: Hey.

ROSE: -APPROACHES... and drops the bag of laundry on the ground.-

ROSE: You look pretty good, for looking like hell. Have you been shaving?

MEULIN: (｡◕ω◕｡)

MEULIN: BETTER NOT HAVE. I WANNA TOUCH THE WHISKERS.

DIRK: Do I really look that ragged? -runs a palm over his scruff. he hasn't been.-

ROSE: Could I possibly not look that ragged?

ROSE: Did you hear about what happened?

ROSE: I am somewhat hoping that you did.

MEULIN: -pads over and touches Dirk's whiskers with her beans while they converse. TUCH.-

MEULIN: -also nuzzles his shoulder. HELLO.-

ARADIA: it was pretty incredible

DIRK: -wow, affection. he almost forgot what that feels like. whoops. he gives meulin's hair a pet and cracks a small smile at both her and rose's combined presence. they're wonderful.-

DIRK: I wish I could've been there.

ROSE: At this risk of sounding inappropriate at a time like this, I am, in fact, quite glad that you weren't.

ROSE: I don't think there is anyone I'd wish that place upon.

ROSE: Not that it matters now, I suppose.

MEULIN: IT WAS PRETTY GROSS ON A WHOLE.

MEULIN: AND ON A CASE BY CASE BASIS.

MEULIN: ROSE WAS A TOTAL BADASS THOUGH.

DIRK: Yeah. You're right. I'm sure there will be more opportunities to witness Rose showing off how fuckin' rad she is.

ROSE: -SIGHS and leans into the pile-

ROSE: You are going to make me blush.

ROSE: Everyone here's okay?

DIRK: -nods- Yeah.

DIRK: We're... We're good. -pets meulin's hair some more. thank goodness for therapy cats.-

DIRK: We lucked out finding a nice place to lay low. You guys can take care of your showers and shit. Just don't expect hot water for long.

DIRK: Oh yeah, I got the TV to work this morning too. That's a thing.

MEULIN: -prrrr rumbles, then perks ears.- TV? WHAT'S IT SAY?

DIRK: Still a lot of buzz about what y'all did. And my uncle's twitter war.

DIRK: You know the Virginia folks are gonna broadcast some kind of concert as a big fuck you to the presidents? Now that I definitely wish I was there for.

ROSE: ...

ROSE: Is it going to be broadcast?

ROSE: I kind of like the idea of that.

DIRK: It is.

DIRK: Wonder if I can scrounge up some popcorn for the event.

ROSE: We do have chips from a truckstop.

DIRK: Oh shit. Then we're all set.

MEULIN: AWWW MAN... I LOVE CONCERTS...

ROSE: -CASUALLY, AND GRACELESSLY, flops onto the nearest couch-like surface.-

DIRK: -there she goes... he's going to wander over to the kitchen though. hovering a little around sollux and aradia. subtly.-

DIRK: -addresses the new arrivals, though- Can I get you anything? We have... soup.

DIRK: Which incidentally is about the extent of what I can cook.

ROSE: I'm not sure. I may be done with eating, possibly forever.

ROSE: The concept has become fallow, truly.

MEULIN: I'M HUNGRY!!

MEULIN: -not even zombies can faze her-

ROSE: Can I consume soup intravenously?

DIRK: If only I had the means to test it. DIRK: Hey, Aradia. You've got first aid on you, right? Inject some soup into Rose.

DIRK: -rattles pots and pans for meulin. again, it's something to do. at least he can feel useful.-

ARADIA: mhmm

ARADIA: i could if you really want to

ARADIA: i recommend tasting

ROSE: -GROANING NOISE-

MEULIN: ~(=^. .^) -HOVERS-

MEULIN: PLEASE DON'T INJECT ROSE WITH SOUP.

DIRK: But she's suffering.

DIRK: -pours bowls for everybody once it's done. it's tomato... hands meu a bowl, then slides a couple at sollux and aradia before shuffling over to rose. eat...-

ROSE: -....ok so tomato soup she can probably do no matter how much it may resemble the blood of guy fieri.-

ROSE: -She tries to make it hover-- but urgh.-

ROSE: -nevermind.-

ROSE: -she just puts it on her stomach and eats it from there.-

MEULIN: - 👀tomato soup-

SOLLUX: -very slowly extracts himself from the hair prison-

ARADIA: dont get stuck

ARADIA: thanks dirk

DIRK: Think nothing of it. -goes to join them at the table to eat, but he's just kinda poking at the soup.-

SOLLUX: -grunts and just sort of touches his spoon.-

MEULIN: -SLRRRPS in the bg-

MEULIN: I STILL HAVE SOME MOOSE MEAT IF ANYONE WANTS.

DIRK: Huh.

DIRK: Maybe later.

ROSE: They killed a moose, by the way.

ROSE: -slurps...-

ROSE: Do we have a plan of attack, yet?

DIRK: ... Not quite.

DIRK: Haven't really... been able to focus.

[[ There's a soft glow of green that grows stronger suddenly, and there's a humanoid shape that hovers into the kitchen through the wall. There's some slime left behind. Oops. ]]

JADESPRITE: hi

ARADIA: -turns to smile at jade sprite- hi

JADESPRITE: -holds up a paw- i didnt want to interrupt especially since i cant eat or

JADESPRITE: contribute much else but

JADESPRITE: we did have some ideas

ROSE: -Blinks-

ROSE: -SHE CAN'T BELIEVE SHE FORGOT ABOUT JADESPRITE-

ROSE: Oh.

ROSE: Hello.

DIRK: -blinks in jadesprite's direction also.- ... Yeah?

JADESPRITE: yes

JADESPRITE: but i think maybe first we should talk about what's going on

ROSE: Right.

JADESPRITE: davesprite has been watching jade

JADESPRITE: something like this has happened before, in the universe we're from -laces her paw fingers together-

JADESPRITE: so we know what she's capable of

JADESPRITE: though you probably already figured out she was the one that zapped you around the country

JADESPRITE: she has full control of that power now

ROSE: Right. So we can't do anything to her head on, or with her awareness. ROSE: We'll just be in the same position we were before.

JADESPRITE: essentially yes

JADESPRITE: so someone has to deal with her

JADESPRITE: thats why were volunteering ourselves

JADESPRITE: -carefully, she pulls out some sort of pendant with a Skaianet symbol and dangles it in the air- i managed to recreate a device that davesprite has for myself

JADESPRITE: id like to give it to one of you for safekeeping, in case i need it

JADESPRITE: i can go into it and also be summoned to its location

JADESPRITE: jade has the one of davesprite's

DIRK: ... I can take it. -holds out his hand-

JADESPRITE: -smiles a little and offers it over to him- thanks

JADESPRITE: anything she tries to do to us would be significantly less dangerous than to any of you, and we should be able to come back quickly with these

JADESPRITE: besides... someone also has to handle jane

JADESPRITE: she doesnt have the same powers but... she is dangerous

ROSE: I... right. I suppose we're going to have to incapacitate them.

JADESPRITE: somehow, yes

JADESPRITE: but we can buy as much time as possible

JADESPRITE: but if it came down to it...

JADESPRITE: ...well, im sure well figure out something

ROSE: Right.

ROSE: I could probably buy time with Jane, at least.

ROSE: But I can't imagine deprogramming them will be... easy.

DIRK: -quietly puts the pendant on to keep it close, tucking it under his shirt, but he's zoning in and out of this conversation and it's frustrating him a little because he NEEDS to be a part of this.-

JADESPRITE: right

JADESPRITE: the brainwashing is affecting jades filters and inhibitions at the same time its telling her whos in control

JADESPRITE: all her repressed thoughts are loose

JADESPRITE: so it's not just the obedience thats the problem... -shakes her head- im sure jane is feeling something similar

JADESPRITE: um... anyway

JADESPRITE: hal has the ship just outside the atmosphere

JADESPRITE: weve managed to talk to him safely from space

JADESPRITE: horuss is still cloaking the ship too but im not sure what theyre planning to do

JADESPRITE: hal is being sort of cagey about it

ROSE: -She frowns.-

ROSE: Is this something that... happened to you?

JADESPRITE: ...

JADESPRITE: i think so

JADESPRITE: its not all clear but...

JADESPRITE: between my memories and davesprite's i feel sure that it's something i know well

ROSE: Do you have any foggy memories of getting out?

JADESPRITE: no...

JADESPRITE: it just feels like i went to sleep for a long time

ROSE: Ah.

ROSE: -She nods.-

ROSE: Well. That's an option.

ROSE: Knock her out somehow.

DIRK: I wonder if the Serkets would have any effect on them. -manages to chime in-

DIRK: I don't like suggesting that, but it might be one of our safest options. I'd rather not knock them out forcefully.

ROSE: Well, we can't waste our opportunity.

ARADIA: trust your instincts and dont doubt yourself

JADESPRITE: -hovers thoughtfully- ...

JADESPRITE: it could work

JADESPRITE: we will just have to be careful

JADESPRITE: if jade knows whats coming she could zap them away

ROSE: ...

ROSE: -sorta. Takes in a deep breath through her teeth.-

ROSE: Okay.

MEULIN: -she's already finished her soup, and now she's just sort of contemplating the bowl... everyone's working so hard-

[tumblunni]

also wtf who designed rune factory 4 this way THIS IS MY ONLY COMPLAINT IN AN AMAZING GAME why are all the romance routes entirely random?? even after youve reached the relationship milestones its COMPLETELY RANDOM whether the event will start every day same for every friendship event and town event and even some plot events you just have to sit there at your bed constantly skipping days for multiple years til the random number god gives you the marriage scene you did EVERYTHING to earn this marriage scene and you have nothing left to do but wait and youll never see any new events with that character until it happens, and you have a very limited amount of dates to go on while youre waiting, and they all do NOTHING except raise the relationship bar over maximum which does nothing. doesnt even increase the chance of the random event?? why even LET me increase it over maximum if it does nothing? thats just tricking me into thinking i havent unlocked the marriage event yet! when I HAVE and i just need to WAIT A BAZILLION YEARS OF RANDOM

anyway i finally got Leon’s random marriage quest and it was Awesome and So Many Tears and now im even more conflicted on who to marry gahhhhh its such a shame you cant resolve everyone’s plot unless you date them, i feel so bad dating all these people when im not able to marry them all, just cos i wanna fix their lives and make them happy but then theyre gon be sad that we didnt get married aaaa

and Leon is especially saddddd

now cos his whole plot is that he had a depressing scenario with a friend as a kid. She loved him but he saw her as just a little sister, and he jokingly promised to marry her once when they were too young to understand. And he didnt know she took it seriously until after he DIED and reincarnated as a fox monster person centuries later too late to do anything about it. And he’s crushed full of guilt that he somehow led her on, and he was never able to apologise, and he’s scared she spent her whole life waiting for him to come back. and then you get this very cool series of sidequests thatre a realistic look at translating languages, and its really motivational how leon is able to help bring knowledge of a dead language back to life and preserve the ancient culture that people thought was lost BUT THEN ENDLESS FUCKIN TRAGEDY kiel accidentally finds an old diary of leon’s friend (WHAT ARE THE ODDS) and he has frickin detailed anxiety attacks unable to even hold the damn paper cos he’s shaking so much and you go on a big treasure hunt to find all the pages and he’s just CRYING SO MUCH mr playboy man! mr flirty asshole! mr stoic! he’s fuckin crying and he cant hold a book without your help and aaaa and his whole story is about how he isnt really the negative stereotypes of a flirty character, he really REALLY values love and he feels depressed he cant love everyone who loves him, so he tries to fake it. And he tries to push people away whenever it seems genuine, but also like... entertain them enough that they dont feel he doesnt love them, i guess? and no matter how promiscuous a person is, they still cant love EVERYONE, you cant just force a relationship on them and say they must be asking for it cos they date other people and enjoy sex. its so depressing that he considers his biggest flaw that he wasnt able to force himself to love someone he didnt, especially when he did care about her, just as a best friend instead! if theyd just talked about it, it would have saved all this heartache for both of them! so then we start piecing together this book and it looks like his worst fears are confirmed, she spent her whole life waiting for him and hating him and its really fucking EXPLODINGLY SAD and then the quest is a bit confusing so i spent several days stuck on this point not knowing who to talk to next, going through random dungeons in case that somehow helped. turned out i did find the right spot but the quest just doesnt progress until you talk to the right person first GAH! stuck for five days on crying leon scene!! NOOOOOO but I finally got past it and CLIMACTIC HAPPY END or bittersweet end more like we find out we mistranslated one bit which was actually PAGE NUMBERS, and we were missing a page all along! and then the final page reveals that she actually moved on and found a new love and had a happy family and grew old together, and her only frustration with leon was imagining that he couldnt find the same thing, worrying that she’d betrayed him. So this wasnt a diary, it was actually a letter she wrote for him to find, having confidence he’d wake up someday and have another chance at happiness! She just wanted him to know that she kept his memory alive and she’s sorry and she was happy and AAAAAAUUUGH im tearing up again the bit that really got me was that we find out that leon’s favourite romance novel was actually written by her. It was so popular it survived into the modern day as a literature classic, and it convinces him that she really was happy with her new boyfriend if she could write something as beautiful as this. And he wants to embody the spirit of the book with you, and keep his new promise to her to have a happy family of his own :) ... AGHHHHHHHHAAAAAHHHHH why cant i marry everyone why do so many of them have plots where it seems like they wont be happy unless i love them... even now i dont really think the leon pairing is my favourite, i wish i could have had this plot as a friendship route! i think it would have resonated just as much since the whole backstory is about him being friends with someone who had unrequited love for him. i wanna be leon’s bestie and ultimate wingman! I like him a lot but I dont really think i wanna marry him! IM SO SORRY LEON AAAA he’s such a soulful beefcake dammit I’m sure he’d find a bazillion better lovers! I’m sure a lot of players did marry him! WHY DO I FEEL SO GUILTY AAAAA its not fair, aaaa arthur was the first one i dated and i also really care about him but in his case his way of acting in the romance isnt very different to when youre just friends so i dont think i wanna commit to that relationship maybe? it might change when i see his final random event but i dont get much ‘he’ll be happy with you’ vibes, its just strengthening their powerful brotp that they had from the start of the game. he feels like someone protagonist would indeed date, but theyd part again on friendly terms after it didnt work out, and then be amicable exes who still care a lot about each other. and I just feel like I wanna marry dylas even though he’s had the least tragic events so far. gahhhh! he just seems SO HAPPY dating you, and has loads of character development since it started, unlike the other two ive seen the dates for. he feels like he’s actually getting something out of this that he wouldnt if we were just friends? its so hard trying to weigh up the pros and cons of romance options in games when im inacapble of actually being attracted to anyone, its just ‘i care about you all and i wanna give you the best possible ending’. I haaaaate when games have it so that romance is always the best possible ending for every single character and they all suffer forever if you dont pick them :P and I havent even seen the romances with the other three dudes yet! GAHHHHH!! Theyre all the ones I wasnt immediately interested in dating, but that opinion could totally change, i could end up with a six way tie :P ... ALSO RANDOM BUT is anyone else really uncomfortable with the queerbaiting in this game? there is a LOt, a LOT of ‘lol maybe gay’, sometimes so clear that it seems the game is outright canonically stating this character is gay or bisexual yet you have no option to marry them unless youre the opposite sex. It gets REALLY uncomfortable with Dylas, he just,,, does not express any interest in women at all unless the player pursues him. And his mutual crush with doug is CONSTANTLY REFERENCED, and called out very clearly for what it is. IOf the game didnt keep pointing it out i would have been able to shrug it off as just accidental chemistry from a failed rivalry plotline or something, but we have EVERYONE saying ‘oh a lover’s quarrel’ and ‘be honest about your feelings’ and ‘i bet you wanna see doug in a swimsuit’ and ‘gee i really wanna see doug in a swimsuit’ and IT CANT BE ANY MORE CANON THAN THIS. And.. like.. Dylas even says he DOESNT wanna see women in swimsuits, he’s just here at the beach cos Doug might come along. He does not express any interest in women at all except the protagonist! It makes me feel SO uncomfortable! it feels like he’s actually gay, when with most other characters they seem bisexual?? I dunno how to explain it, thats just how it comes off to me. Why is there no option for him and doug to date, why cant i date him as the male protagonist?? His romance route is so totally gender neutral, i did the postgame protagonist swap cheat and it just feels more in-character for him this way. if im gonna steal him away from Doug i dont want it to be a weird gay conversion therapy type thing, it just feels so WEIRD. The one and ONLY stated crush he has on another character, and its gay, and theres NO OPTION FOR IT TO HAPPEN and then he suddenly becomes 100% straight and never talks about doug again if a fem protagonist dates him. SO WEEEEEIRD... I’m just gonna sit here on the non-canon bonus feature dylas x male protag train and never leave. If you cant have doug you shall have the transitioned me! Its funny cos he’s like the only batchelor i very vehemently cannot ship with fem protag, yet do with male protag :P but GAHHH leon deserves a family and i could give him a child and aaaaa SO HARD TO CHOOSE also i am sad that the postgame cheatmode lets you switch to any character but if its not one of the two protags its only your overworld model and not your face portraits. Its weird because every batchelor and batchelorette has the exact same full set of emotions and costumes, so why cant i access that?? its also a shame cos it means i cant roleplay my doug and dylas marriage properly :P CMON MAN WHY U EVEN TELL ME THEY IN LOVE IF THEY CANT BE IN LOVE :P they have the best portmanteau ship name too! douglas! :P