timetopanic34

[timetopanic34]

I finally watched The Sound of Music and like I get it now, I get it. 

It’s a beautiful two hour love story of a strict man finally opening his heart again and then a fifty minute public service announcement to hate the nazis. Brilliant.

[timetopanic34]

Postpartum Sucks

Postpartum actually sucks. 

Not to sound cliche, but NO ONE talks about postpartum and even those who do, don’t elaborate on the horror movie it actually is. Set aside the hair loss, the raging hormones and the obscene changes to your body, nothing compares to the mental strain that postpartum has on a new mom. Think of a blender filled with rusty nails and oranges and trying to make something useful with that; that’s what postpartum is. 

The Physical Changes No One Warns You About

The physical aspects of postpartum like hair loss, body changes, and hormonal shifts are glossed over and it seems like every influencer has just the right tips and tricks to get you to “bounce back” to your pre-pregnancy body but the only thing that’s “bouncing” is the loose skin that dangles over my c-section scar. I was relatively healthy, and I wouldn’t label myself as “skinny queen”, but I was happy with what I looked like, and I didn’t care much about others opinions. However, pregnancy destroyed my entire stomach area with purple and pink tiger stripes that run across my entire abdomen. I used to confidently stand in front of my husband in my birthday suit but lately, I feel the strong desire to wear an actual suit to hide what I think are my imperfections. I personally didn’t experience much hair loss, however my body changed so drastically. My hips are wider now than they were before which makes finding clothes impossible. I’m stuck with buying clothes that are two or three sizes too large just so I can accommodate my raging curves. I have been able to find two pairs of jeans that fit nicely, and I treat them as if they are religious artifacts meant to be worshiped. I refuse to buy any more jeans for myself because the task of having to go to a store, look for jeans that I think fit, and then try them on just to be disappointed over and over again is disheartening and I refuse. There once was a youtuber who lived her best life in leggings and refused to wear jeans at all costs; I will do the same. I don’t want to care about how my body looks to others and the thing I struggle with the most is associating the person I see in the mirror to the person I see in myself. Right now, they are two different people judging each other without actually getting to know each other. How do I restore these relationships between my sense of self? I haven’t the answer to that question but one day I think I’ll be able to look back and wonder why I cared so much... 

Leaning On My Supports 

Postpartum is a heavy task that every woman must face and not having a good support system can really be the downfall to success. Now, I can’t speak for everyone because there are some things that I didn’t experience that most do. I have a really good support system on both sides of the family. My mother, though she can be abrupt at times, is always willing to help, even if it’s just sitting with my son. My father helped and still helps on occasion with little financial struggles. My husband and I knew there would be added expenses to having a baby and we were confident that this burden would be easy to take hold of, but we weren't expecting my sudden job change. There was a short period where my husband and I couldn’t afford groceries or bills and my father chipped in. He sent us money just in case and gave us that financial support that most people don’t receive. Moreover, my mother and father-in-law are the kindest people to ever exist and though they could not easily be at my house without a long drive, they helped by buying us diapers, formula, and different necessities so that my husband and I didn’t have to worry, further loosening that financial burden. I know that not everyone has these supports in place, and I am and will always be eternally grateful for their support. This isn’t a moment where I am gloating about the things that I have but appreciative that I do have these supports that can lift some burden off me and my husband’s shoulders. 

The Mental Toll 

With my family’s support, it allowed me to take a deeper dive into my mental health, however, in my exploration of who I am, I ended up getting stuck. Even now, I feel the sticky slime at the bottom of my shoes, reminding me that negativity is always there. The mental aspect of postpartum really took a toll on my sense of self. I’ve always struggled with my anxieties but over the years, I was able to manage well with breathing exercises, mediation, and support from my husband. However, all of that had to be thrown out the window. I can no longer just breathe it out when I’m feeling overwhelmed; I'd go blue. There is no time for meditation, any of my free time is spent taking care of the baby or doing chores around the house. My husband is also trying to stay afloat with the added responsibility of taking care of another human while still managing his online classes and going to work. There were countless nights where I felt stuck and all I could do was disassociate myself from reality. 

One night in particular really stuck with me the most because I was enshrouded in a wet black veil of depression that I couldn’t take off. My son was particularly needy that night and wouldn’t sleep unless he was being held by me. My husband was asleep bedside me and I was growing increasingly angry at the sight of his peace. I decided to abscond from our room and sit on the rocking chair in my son’s nursery. There I sat, rocking back and forth, thinking of all the decisions I made in my life that led me to that moment. Thinking about how nothing I did was good enough for the high expectations I had set for myself. All I could do was rock back and forth, shushing my baby, lulling him to sleep, watching his precious eyelids fall into serenity as fear filled my body with no outlet of release to not wake him. 

I rocked back and forth, trapped in a state that was both soothing but suffocating, each movement a pendulum swing between numbness and despair. Time felt elastic, as if the night would stretch on forever. With every rock back and forth, my mind retreated to its inner most depths where only darkness resided. The house was deathly quiet, the soft pulse of air from the fan humming. I could feel the electrical vibrations through my skin as I stared at the shadowed walls encasing me in a prison of solitude and sadness. His peace was more important and all I could do was sit in the depths of my brain, reliving moments in my life that I wish I could change. Fixated on everything I should have done or said to those around me. The choices I made, the things that I could never change. Was this where I truly was meant to be? A heavy blackness hung over me, pressing down like a thick fog, unyielding. The hands of darkness caressing my neck and back, putting strain on my already overstimulated body. Every dark thought, a weight that pulled me deeper, making it hard to break. There was no escaping the cacophony of worries; am i a good mother? Am i a good wife? Am i a good daughter? Am i a good sister? Am I good enough? 

The rocking chair became my prison, the cushions of the chair were meant to provide comfort and warmth, but in that moment, I felt a heaviness inside me that was crushing my soul. While my son rested in absolute peace, my mind was a whirlwind of chaos, storming through my being with self-doubt, anxiety, and fatigue. Eventually, my son’s steady breaths lulled me out of my despair, the rising sun illuminating the ominous shadows. With every step that dawn took, it brought me back to my reality, though I continued to rock back and forth, holding the little I had of myself, I knew that I had to rise soon and face a new day. I knew that I had to subdue these oiled thoughts and cast them aside because I had to be there. I could not allow myself to flail in a pit of nothingness because there were those who relied on me. As the birds quietly chirped and the morning dew sat on the lawn, I clawed myself a window, just big enough to allow some light into my darkened world. I’m still there sometimes, rocking back and forth but instead of holding my sleeping baby, I’m holding onto the person I used to be, trying to figure out how to be that person again while also moving on to the new phase in my life. I have carved away most of the darkness that took over, but it’s still there. In every step I take forward, I can still feel the oil beneath my feet, reminding me that at any moment I can easily slip right back. 

Losing Myself and Finding HER Again 

No one talks about that... the fact that when you become a mother, you lose a part of yourself that you loved. You become a caretaker, preventing fires and putting band aids on things that require stitches. Pushing all those negative thoughts and emotions into a trunk and throwing them in the ocean, hoping that you never see them again. But it’s there... it lurks in the back of your head, and you have to figure out how to just be. 

It’s been a few months since that eventful night, and I’ve had time to reflect on where I was to who I am now. I can’t confidently say that I have escaped that dark nursery, rocking back and forth, but I am able to escape more easily now. Returning to work has helped distract me from those anxieties but I still haven’t found my identity. Going back to work allows me to be who I was before, which makes me feel guilty because there’s a subtle pleasure in not having to put all my attention into taking care of my son. I love my son, and I strongly believe that my purpose is to be his mother, but the small doses of freedom keep me alive. 

To the Mothers Who Feel Alone

I want this to be an insight for those mothers who struggled or are struggling; subdued to the strong emotions and trying to forget and move on to something that is totally different than what was known before. I want this to be a trek into the unknown that we take on together and hopefully, this could alleviate some stress in at least one person, knowing that they aren’t alone. Motherhood itself is a task that cannot be taken on by anyone. I will admit that most of the beginning of motherhood is checking off boxes on your to-do list and maintaining that structure like taking your child to doctor's appointments, making sure they had enough food for the day, giving them baths, and maintaining a livable environment. It’s the emotional aspect of it that tears you down. Yes, you can feel accomplished by doing the easy things, but regaining who you were is a tough road that every mother goes through. I’m not just a mother... I’m a person with hobbies and interests and desires. I don’t feel that I have completed my transformation, life doesn’t allow anyone to really meet their peak but there has to be some peace along the way. Balancing how to be a mom, a teacher, a wife, and an individual is how I’m going to find my own peace and give myself the opportunity to say goodbye to the “she” who used to be mine. 

[timetopanic34]

steve having a rocky sense of "home", because the concept of "home" growing up was always fleeting. how he learned very young that home isn't a place, it's people, and that it can be pulled out from under you at any time. his dad making the four walls of his and his ma's apartment far from a safe space to call home, but the barnes' apartment always welcoming him and sarah with open arms.

he's a wanderer, always has been, but it's especially evident when bucky comes in from the cold and he seems to find his way back home fairly quickly, because he has a baseline. always knew what a good home and family looked like, sounded like, felt like in his bones. was raised on the notion of community and safety-- things that weren't guaranteed for steve as a kid.

and bucky knows this, and he sees steve struggling. sees him still drifting, wandering. lost. a ghost in his own skin. and he knows he can't be the one to show steve that he can settle now. he knows it needs to be steve that believes that. but he can do what he's always done. hold him close and hold the front door open, waiting and ready for steve to be ready to come in.

[timetopanic34]

Me: Wow that was a good story

Me: *presses kudo*

AO3: You have already left kudos here.

Me: Huh. I guess… I read this already? I better save it-

Me: *presses bookmark*

AO3: You have already bookmarked this story.

Me: THE FUCK YOU SAY.

[timetopanic34]

Yes this is a sad reality

I want to see more dads chilling with their guy friends while looking after their baby. I see so many moms drinking coffee with their friends, so why cant we have more dads doing the same?

(I know it's sexism, I just wish we lived in a better world).

[timetopanic34]

the homosexual urge to become an enemy of the state for love

[timetopanic34]

I’ll take your bad driver Steve rogers headcannons and raise bad driver Steve rogers who knows he’s a bad driver and doesn’t care

[timetopanic34]

[timetopanic34]

Bucky: According to some old myths, birthmarks show where you got killed in your past life.

Scott: I have birthmarks on both sides of my head. I think I was speared.

Sam: Nope, you were shot. When your leader says “Duck!” you do not respond with “Where?!”

Scott: Man, I hope I got to see the duck before I died.

[timetopanic34]

Friendly reminder Steve Rogers is one of the youngest Avengers out of the group.

Friendly reminder that Steve Rogers was only 21 when he went through the super soldier experimentation.

Friendly reminder that when Steve Rogers was awoken in the modern century, for him it had only been a few weeks since he had lost Bucky.

Friendly reminder that Steve Rogers is only in his mid-twenties and still does everything he can to take care of those around him. 

Friendly reminder that Steve Rogers has PTSD and severe depression, as shown in several of the movies and comics per his suicidal tendencies. 

Friendly reminder that almost everyone Steve Rogers knew in 1943 was dead when he woke up, and he was faced with the ideal that he had outlived everyone he loved.

Friendly reminder that Steve Rogers still needs to make mistakes and be selfish, and still deserves to be loved and cherished. He isn’t like Iron Man or Hawkeye, he’s not lived any sort of life only battle and carnage. He deserves to have someone look after him everyone once and awhile. 

[timetopanic34]

[timetopanic34]

Mohammed has been verified. I know there are so many Palestinians in need and it is hard to choose but I wanted to share in the hope that some might choose him.

From the Gofundme page -

“Mohammed's Story: A Gazan's Journey Through War and Loss.

My name is Mohammed, a 23-year-old young man from the heart of Gaza, Khan Yunis. My story is one of resilience, loss, and a burning hope for the future.

The war ripped through our lives with a ferocity that left scars on our hearts and our city. We were forced to flee our homes, seeking refuge from the relentless bombing that turned our once vibrant streets into a landscape of dust and debris. The "Al-Arous Ice Cream Factory," a familiar landmark and a source of joy, was reduced to rubble, a symbol of the devastation that engulfed us…”

I didn't set this up - I'm just trying to help.

https://gofund.me/21042c5b

[timetopanic34]

feed the local birds - ideally corvids, but pigeons will do just fine, seagulls if you are brave and fear nothing. Choose seeds, or something else that's non-perishable but healthy for birds.

get them accustomed to your presence, feed them at different times in a handful of different locations that you rotate between, so they learn to associate the feeding with you, specifically, and not the time and place that you are in. Always keep the feed in your pockets just in case.

teach them a specific word you'll call out as loudly as possible whenever you're about to distribute the food.

that specific word is ATTACK!

if you ever feel threatened by another person while walking down the street, you can just yell out ATTACK! at the top of your lungs.

ideally, the threat has no idea that this is the birds' cue for Food Person Is About To Distribute Food, and is scared shitless by the sight of a flock of wild birds swooping in at your call, and flees.

if this does not work, there is a very low, but above zero possibility of the birds seeing that their usual feeding routine has been interrupted by someone bothering The Food Person, and actually do start swooping at this inconvenience so that they can have their meal.

in either case, feed the birds as reward and payment for their work.

?????

fear tactic bird guard.

[timetopanic34]

Okay Minnie that gif of Sebastian twirling is just waaaay too tempting! That's totally how Bucky asks Steve to dance with him isn't it?

Oh, absolutely yes! 🩷🩷 Aaaahh can you imagine it? Bucky twirling for Steve, holding out his hand to him as he asks him to dance 🥹 And Steve, still unable to believe that this gorgeous, sexy, silly charming man is really his, stumbling over his own feet not because he can't dance (the serum fixed his two left feet), but because even after all these years, he's just still so smitten and dazzled by Bucky and the way Bucky effortlessly spins them across the floor while looking deeply into Steve's eyes, making him feel like he's the only person in the world worth looking at (and to Bucky, he is) 😭💘

[timetopanic34]

Holy shit. I never got the appeal before but omg age looks good on this man!

CHRIS PINE for Esquire Magazine (2023)

[timetopanic34]

Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.

[timetopanic34]

I love mixed metaphors? that horse has sailed. don’t pick your battles before they hatch. let sleeping dogs out of the bag.