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bottlecaprabbitgames · 11 months

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Weight Loss, Dieting, Medical Shit Goin' On

At the request of @meethisharma , I'm making a big post of like. EVERYTHING I've learned so far since truly trying to lose weight and do better since February of this year. I'm of course going to go into my background as to why I need to lose weight and my life as an obese person, different references I've used to help with my weight loss, dietary changes, THE WHOLE SHEBANG.

So uh. Buckle up, it's a LONG post.

(Also, shout out to Jordan Shrinks over on YouTube, I've followed this woman for years and she is still the biggest inspiration and my favorite fucking person who has helped me shape my routine for weight loss.)

Why did I start trying to lose weight?

I have been obese pretty much my whole life. In high school, I weighed 260-270 lbs. Both of my parents struggled with drug addiction, and that meant that we ate a lot of unhealthy, over processed food as it was the cheapest. I also rarely, if ever, drank water growing up; we mostly had soda in the house, and that's what I drank.

Last year, in May of 2022, I weighed 330 lbs. This was after I had already lost an unknown amount of weight, as I put on a LOT working at McD's given the food was free and I was broke most of the time. This was still not enough for me to start losing weight, but I did start packing my own lunches and at least started eating better. In September, I started my first hotel job, and with the better work and pay, I was finally able to afford insurance for 2023 and start going to doctors like I needed to. I've always had a LOT of chronic issues, but none were ever diagnosed as I really didn't go to the doctor much unless it was an absolute dire emergency.

Timeskip to the first week or two of February, 2023, and I finally get in to see a nurse practioner who will lead me to find my current primary care doctor. I weighed 312 lbs, and she was very... well, blatantly, she didn't even give me the time of day LMAO. She didn't even bother to tell me I was pre-diabetic, I had to find that out from looking at my lab results myself.

Week 3 of February, I get in with the guy who's now my primary care doctor. He's also fat, like I am, and he was also far more direct with me about my situation. As it turned out, I was in like stage 3 hypertension (my blood pressure was 150 smth over 140), I was almost 90% deficient in vitamin D (y'know, the shit that makes your bones HARD), my iron saturation in my blood was in single digits (aka severely anemic, borderline needed a blood transfusion), I was well into my way to being a Type-2 Diabetic (my A1C was 5.8, you need to be 6.4 to be diagnosed), AND... my liver was struggling really, really badly. Side note, he's also a mental health professional, and he's the one who originally diagnosed my severe PTSD and got me in with my therapist.

NEEDLESS TO SAY, I WAS NOT IN THE BEST CONDITION. I was actually well on my way to developing early heart disease, osteoporosis, diabetes, blood clots, like everything I was the MOST afraid of was what I was about to have. Because I wasn't taking care of myself, I was living off of ramen and fast food and processed as shit food all the time, TV dinners... I'd make a meal out of a family-sized bag of chips or a whole roll of crackers and several slices of cheese.

My doctor was very point fucking blank about my outcomes. I could've died if I did nothing. A really horrible way to die, too. He told me that if I wanted to make changes, he'd get me every resource possible he could to help me, but I had to want the changes if they were gonna stick. Keep that in mind, right? YOU have to want the changes needed.

And that's when everything started.

THE GAME PLAN

SO, what did I do to start losing weight? What changes did I make?

Everything. FUCKING everything. My doctor said I needed a low-as-possible sodium diet, so I changed it. I needed to start exercising, so I did. I needed meds and to get into therapy to help deal with my mental health, so I religiously take my meds and I go to therapy as many times as possible each month. He also wanted me to get a daytime job, as my overnights were likely making things worse, and I finally got that done now, too.

A big thing to add here, too: my doctor has not talked to me about BMI. The only thing he has asked me to do is get to 200 lbs. He says so long as I don't drop under 120, he's said it's fine whatever weight I stop on, so long as I get to 200.

But where did I begin? The SIMPLE shit.

I started with ten minute walks. That's it for exercising, I started with TEN MINUTE WALKS. And you know what? It was fucking hard. It still is. It's like pulling teeth sometimes to get me to get up and go take a 30 minute to an hour walk. But don't let these fucking fitness influencers bully you into thinking that if you can't handle pumping iron in the gym for 6 hours straight then you're always gonna be a fat slob or whatever those fuckheads say these days. And, if you don't like walking, if you'd rather lift weights, you can do that too! If you don't want to go to a gym like I don't, order some cheap ones off of Amazon or Walmart. Go cycling or swimming or jumping rope. You don't have to go big and hard into exercise to be healthier. Start small.

Now, diet-wise, I threw myself in it a little too vigorously and I also paid the price of wasting like $50 each payday in shit I didn't eat or still haven't, and I also fucked up my GI tract for a solid month. I was ROUGHING it. Raw-dogged the low sodium diet and it did it back double time, do NOT do what I did. There's gonna be a WHOLE section after this one on dietary shit. Big thing, though? MEAL PLANNING. I don't care if you only meal plan one meal of the day, I only do my damn dinners. Just take time on your day off to batch cook a bunch of shit to be able to eat for one meal throughout the week.

MAKE GOALS. I don't care if the goals you set seem shallow to you or not, make some fucking goals. Keep them on a list you can easily find, especially like on your phone. HELL, keep the list in SEVERAL ways, like a paper on your wall. I have another section planned for like examples and my own goals on down.

EXERCISE

AGAIN, start small. Don't go hog wild and try to do an hour a day at the gym to start; that's gonna burn you out and wear you down before you even get started. Also, you don't need a gym to exercise. If you never wanna step foot in a gym, you NEVER have to.

Start with a five to ten minute walk every other day. You don't like walking? Cool, get some cheap weights (or a kettlebell weight) and lift weights for 5-10 minutes. I just recently got a 5lb kettlebell on Amazon for like $8.55 after tax so I can start doing weighted exercises. (NOTE: don't start with big heavy weights. You'll fuck up your muscles and joints. You'll want to research what weight to start with first.)

I think it wassss two weeks of me walking for ten minutes every other day before I moved to 15 minutes? Now, in May, I can go for an hour at a leisurely pace.

My Routine:

45 minute-hour walk at LEAST 4 days a week.

One day of 30 minute power walking or walking-jogging intervals. I walk along the street I live on, and I do 1/3 of the way jogging, the rest walking.

At LEAST one day using resistance band exercises. Resistance bands are like $10 at Walmart, I recommend using a light one to start WHILE AT YOUR HEAVIEST WEIGHT. Resistance bands work by using your own body weight as the resistance, so it's best to start while you're still at the heaviest.

Hoping to work the kettlebell in on at least three days of the week, doing weighted HIIT exercises (high intensity training).

DIETARY CHANGES

The BIGGEST piece of advice I can give you is to make sustainable changes. The reason diet culture doesn't work is because you can't survive off of diet food for a long period of time, meaning you'll just regain the weight back once you return to a normal diet. Also, carbs are not bad for you. Unless a doctor specifically tells you to lower carb intake, PLEASE do not just suddenly decide to stop eating carbs as you can permanently damage your major internal organs.

Now, I am not on a diet, persay. The changes I've made I plan to keep for the rest of my life. Now, I can only tell you what I do, and not what you should do. I have some formal training in nutrition, and I can give you advice on what not to do, but again, I can mostly tell you what works for me.

NOW THAT THAT'S OUT OF THE WAY, HERE WE GO! I am on a low-sodium diet, meaning I do not add salt to shit. I use Accent, a shit ton of seasoning and spices, and I get my canned food no salt added when I can. I also mainly only eat turkey and chicken (mostly chicken), while beef and pork are like... a treat every once in a while. I also get low sodium canned tuna or like... actually good fish sticks. And, as I live on the Gulf Coast, I get fresh shrimp once or twice a month. I also do NOT add sugar to something unless it's a recipe for like bread to feed the yeast. I get canned fruit in 100% juice, or I get it frozen mostly. If I want to add something to make it sweet, I dump fruit in it. I've also recently been adding like... one packet of splenda ALONG WITH FRUIT to my oatmeal. Tastes p good, do not recommend splenda in coffee. Shit's nasty.

I am also a calorie counter and believer. The easiest way to think of calories is like... energy. One calorie is one unit of energy. I HIGHLY recommend using a couple of calorie calculators to help figure out your daily intake, and I use the My Fitness Pal app to keep track of what I eat, especially as I am prone to boredom eating and binge eating, as I do still struggle with disordered eating. I also keep an eye on my macros (protein, carbs, fats), as well as my cholesterol, sodium, and saturated fat levels.

So, what does Cy do for food? A lot but also... not very much, lol. I am a convenience bitch. I ain't here to cook several times a day and shit, I ain't got time for it. I be makin' shit as easy as possible.

I do often drink protein shakes before or after I walk or have an intense workout. You don't have to, just keep in mind you DO need high protein intake before or after working out, to help your muscles repair themselves. I get the cheap af Purely Inspired brand at Walmart, mix it with frozen fruit and milk in my blender.

PLEASE, GOD, DRINK WATER! Drink plenty of frickin water. Your body has to be hydrated and the more water you drink, the less water your body retains as extra. A bit weird, I know, but take it from me as I carry about 10-12 lbs of water weight a day, and it was a LOT more when I wasn't hydrating properly.

I meal prep one meal a week. It's dinner now, so I take a day I'm off, make a big batch of smth, and separate it into like 5-7 containers, freezing some and fridgerating the others. I post recipes and total costs over on @cylentlycrafting , and I get those cheap ass Mainstays meal prep containers. It's like $5 for 5 of em, and I have like... 3-4 sets.

The main meat I eat now is chicken, as it has the highest amount of protein across all meats. I also pretty much exclusively eat whole grain foods (brown rice, whole wheat bread, whole wheat or brown rice or quinoa pasta), and I keep instant brown rice and instant oats on hand. Listen, I'm an impatient ass mfer, I don't have 45 mins to cook some goddamn rice.

I also luv eggies. And cheese. And dairy. Though I typically get reduced fat dairy products, except milk. Reduced fat sour cream, reduced fat cheese, sometimes reduced fat yogurt, but I take any yogurt I can get my hands on.

I use a LOT of canned beans, peas, chickpeas, and tomatoes. I also get frozen broccoli, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, red potatoes, and carrots as far as veggies go. I also often get chopped romaine lettuce, carrot chips, grape tomatoes, and onions. That is the beginning and the end to the veggies I eat, and best be fucking sure I put red kidney beans and chickpeas in everything almost it. Broccoli, too. Tomatoes.

Fruit wise, I have a LOT of fruit cups and canned fruit in 100% fruit juice, frozen fruit, and I also have a thing for clementines lately. Been eating tf out of them.

Snackies wise, I usually get that big box of baked chips from Lays. Peanut butter and graham crackers. Dark chocolate. Power Crunch protein bars because PROTEIN BARS DON'T HAVE TO BE DISGUSTING!!!!!

I pretty much exclusively use olive oil, but canola oil is also pretty damn good if you're on a budget! Just avoid regular butter, that shit's got so much calories and fat in it.....

Listen, you don't have to go broke buying shit. I tend to allot more money to food than most people because I have a LOT of food issues, and because I commit hard to shit. I have olive oil mayo and butter replacements, I keep low sugar and low sodium ketchup, and I buy expensive ass Lucini tomato sauce. You don't have to. Like I also buy tater tots and off-brand coco puffs and mini wheats.

I have experimented with a LOT of brands in the past few months, which I will probably make another post about eventually? Maybe? Also more budget-friendly shopping hacks and shit given I be trying to save as much money as possible.

GOALS

Listen, like every big project, you need goals. Getting your body healthy is a big project, and you should make goals. Goals on why you want to get healthy, goals on why to keep going even when shit gets hard. I don't care if it's the most vain shit ever, if it's a goal it's a fucking goal.

Here are some of mine:

More clothing options. If I lose more weight, I will be able to fit into smaller sizes and have more choices on what to wear.

SELF CONFIDENCE

Feeling less embarrassed when eating out somewhere.

HEALTH. A large part of me always feeling shitty is my diet and lack of proper vitamins and nutrients.

Prediabetes. I don't want to be like my mom and papaw and have to poke myself multiple times a day nor be reliant on insulin.

FINAL THOUGHTS

The main things I can impress upon y'all:

Build sustainable habits. If you don't think you'd be able to do it for the rest of your life, maybe rethink the habit before it becomes too set in stone.

You're gonna fall off the horse sometimes. You're gonna cheat, you're gonna make slip ups. And that's okay. Don't feel guilty, don't overrestrict or punish yourself for it. You're human, and you're trying, and that's okay. You can only do as much as you're able to right here and right now.

It's a hard and long road. Getting healthy and fit isn't going to be a breeze in the park. This shit is hard, especially if you're building new habits from scratch. But you got this. YOU CAN DO IT.

You HAVE to want this for yourself. No one else can want it for you. It has to be on you and you alone.

You're gonna find people wanting to sabotage you, as horrible as it sounds. Sometimes people feel threatened when others attempt to better themselves, because that person or those persons know they wouldn't put the time or energy into doing so themselves. And, unfortunately, some of those people are your close friends and family :/

TRY NEW THINGS. FAIL AND KEEP GOING. I have tried so much shit in the last few months, and some has stuck, some has not. I have learned I do not like a lot of vegetables, and that's okay. I also make taco salad (from 'scratch') at least two to three times a month. What works, works!

You are going to bloat A LOT when you start amping up workouts. Your body holds extra water and nutrients for up to FOUR WEEKS after you start exercising or start a new exercise routine/build up on your existing one. This is to repair your muscles and joints as they grow.

Scales like to lie, and they won't tell you how much water weight you're holding. And yes, you will be able to tell you're bloated. I never knew of bloating until now and sometimes shit fits weird when I'm majorly bloated. It SUCKS

Measure yourself. Your stomach, chest, waist, hips. All of it. Keep it. It'll be amazing to see how much you've changed eventually.

I actually would LOVE to keep making posts like this. But, here's my current progress:

I am a little under 270 lbs, unsure of how much as I am starting and trying new exercises, as well as my new job being HELLA more active than my old one.

I do have more processed stuff in my diet, but i do try to balance it with healthier food, too. Budgeting is.... hard.

My blood pressure tends to run 110/70 now.

I hope this helps someone out there.

My heart rate has gone down from 100+ bpm, to now it's at 60-75 bpm.

I also drink diet soda now, usually one a day.

#weight loss #weight #nutrition #health #health and wellness #wellness

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nightmare-dreamt · 11 months

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Please may I have Ouran high-school host club headcanons of a male Oc age 17 years old being one of the hosts and his name was quite unusual..his name was actually Aqua *his mother named him* (The gif showing what the OC looks like). Aqua is a famous idol like his mother and there is not a single person who doesn't know who he is..(hell when someone asked who "Aqua" was..the fans go crazy with fangirl/fanboy like behaviour and tells the clueless stranger to listen to his music). Aqua was actually the most requested out of the hosts by the fangirls and he was the idol type. (He's actually Honey's childhood friend)..and Aqua's eyes, his left eye has a star in it and that was why his eyes were unusual as well. He is wealthier than the other hosts and everything..(he is also a head taller than Tamaki)

He's generally a kind guy once you get to know him regardless of his famous status as a idol or his serious demeanor. He is protective of the girls and everything and practically a Knight in shining armour. He's not someone who you would want to lie to because he will find out straight away but he will not judge you for it unless you had negative intentions for all the wrong reasons. Absolutely hates bullies and people who think that they can get their own way (he can look rather frightening when he is angry). He is practically a older brother to Honey..he had to restrain how many sweets Honey ate for understandable reasons..he doesn't want his friend to get diabetes or cavities because of the amount of sugar he ate (Honey listened to him despite his complaining that he would be fine when Aqua tells him to stop). Puts up with Tamaki's childish behaviour regardless of the times Aqua told him to grow up. Aqua's is everyone's ideal big brother to the younger children (he is very good with young children).

He doesn't find commoner food or things unusual to him because admittedly he often and secretly went to places that commoners go to in disguise so fans wouldn't discover him..as much as he is touched that he had a huge and I mean a huge fanbase because he is a idol..he still needs a break once in a while. Oh and did I mention that he is a martial arts champion..(he may have a huge fanbase because of his popularity and everything..but idols are often a target for murder by stalkers).

Other things about him..

1. He is a skilled cook..he looks after himself because he is independent and his own person. No..actually Aqua is independent because he doesn't want to keep the maids and the butlers from spending time with their families during the holidays.

2. He never judges anyone for their living conditions regardless of the other hosts dramatic reactions of Haruhi living in a commoners flat. Pretty much the only normal person in the host group..

3. Aqua is not someone who you want to prank like a numpty..the last time/the First time that the devil twins did something that stupid to Aqua involving gluing his homework together..let's just say that the twins ended up in the hospital for a few months for internal injuries and several broken bones.

4. His mother died when he was seven..no, actually his mother was killed by a stalker who targeted idols for very nasty reasons. It was a hellish time for him..

The hosts relationships with Aqua, the idol type.

Headcanons for oc! Aqua!

At first, when the name of the famous female idol's son was revealed, people were confused, wondering what parent would name their son that, but within time, the more the boy grew the more loved people showed for his name. Now, almost everyone in the world knows the name Aqua, the boy with the star in his eye.

Music was a big part of his life and it stuck with him the most when his mother passed, becoming his savior and a way for him to escape his complicated life. His status was already high from his mother and her rank, but when the world heard Aqua's voice they went crazy, needing to hear more of him. Within a few years after his mother's death, he was known around for his music and had millions of fans who loved and cherrished him, some a little too much.

From the day he was born, Aqua was thrown into wealth with his mother status, but then be didn't care about money and to this day, he still doens't care. Greed is a curse and he tries his best to avoid the curse that sticks within money and fame. When he isn't busy with work and school, Aqua will go around and donate his money rather than using it himself for his own personal gain, he thinks there are others who deserve the money more than he does.

When his mother passed, Aqua pushed everyone away focusing on music and that only, but that was until a blonde haired boy entered his life. Honey-senpal was around his age, but was known for his cute demanor that intrigued the star eyed boy. Soon enough, the two were inseparable and spent almost every day together, which also meant Mori took part in their life as well. The three of them were seen everywhere being known as the idol trio.

Much like Mori, Aqua made it his job to protect the blonde haired boy acting as his older brother, helping him with certain tasks and making sure he didn't get sick or have a toothache. When the three of them joined the host club, Aqua also became the brother to all of the members watching over them and making sure things didn't get too out of hand with the fans.

Going to a school full of rich kids came with its pros and cons, cons were seen a lot more than the pros though. When Aqua became a host member, his fans grew greatly and there were always girls and a few guys requesting to be with him, but one caught his eye and that was a student named Y/n. They came to the host club when one of their friends dragged them there, but that was the only time Aqua ever saw them.

Learning more about them, Aqua made sure to become friends with them wanting to get to know them more. That was his first mistake though. When he noticed some of the other students were picking on Y/n, he took action, stopping his host club career until people began to change their ways. When news went around, Y/n's life seemed to take a turn and it felt as if everyone was being nice and caring to them instead of before when everyone wanted them to leave the idol host alone.

Apologizing for his actions, Aqua explained that their meetings would have to be stopped since it was damaging them and he dind't want them to be hurt. Quickly stopping him, Y/n stated that their interactions with each other were great and that they would be more hurt if he were to stop them. This then led to the new friendship between the two.

Having a career and attending school can be a lot for someone, especially Aaqa considering how much he did. His frends always made sure to repay the favors he did for them, by making sure he gets a break every once and a while and lives an actual teenager's life. His frineds will make plans with the things he enjoys and try to distract work and school from his mind to keep him at ease.

A/n - I enjoyed doing this and I love your oc and his backstory!

#x reader #anime #anime x reader #headcanon #request #ouran high school host club #ouran host club #ohshc #oc x reader #host club Headcanons #honey senpai #takashi morinozuka

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isa-ah · 2 years

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big long bluhhgg under the cut lol <3

idk i woke up in my feeilngs this morning so i figure its worth like. talking about i guess. i havent really gone over this again in a couple years so like. yknow. my life story or whatever

so my mom was a kid when she got pregnant and bc of that my grandma took over raising me & even as my mom grew up and moved out i staid put bc as far as i was concerned, my grandparents were my real parents. my mom went on to marry a guy and have two other kids, who she treats like her only kids lol she has her family unit, i have mine, fine. whatever.

when i was a little tiny thing my grandfather was a truck driver. hed only be home once in a blue moon but hed always bring back the coolest little things for me from his buddies and travels. (he had a LOT of stories, about long haul truck driving, being a shrimper til his boat capsized and he nearly froze to death, being stationed in okinawa, all the way back to being raised by an incredibly abusive drunk who ended up blowing his brains out. he used to get all starry eyed in a way id never see him otherwise when hed talk about how cool his dad was, taking him as a young boy to all the local bars. hm.)

my grandmother had a plethora of stories to the same. her parents were both prisoners of war; my great grandmother would tell me about eating snails off the toilets for nourishment while she was in the concentration camps, and my great grandfather idealized the american soldiers that liberated them so greatly he ripped his family up and moved to america the moment they were freed. they would eat hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner nearly every night "like a real american family." they had two kids together- my grandma, and her little brother.

her father enlisted in the american military when they landed here and so she was an army brat. she never got to set down roots really, and was deeply bullied by her peers and beaten to the point of having scars to show me in her late fifties. shed detail the horrible things he did to her, and how it pushed her to sitting in a bathtub alone one night, trying to slit her wrists when a warmth brushed up her back and asked gently against her ear; who do you think will have to clean this up? and after realizing it would be her little brother, she picked herself up and marched on.

(its funny. at one of my lowest points i had nearly the same experience.)

her father would go on to cheat on her pregnant mother, accusing her of infidelity and abandoning her with the baby, my grandma and her brother, and marrying another woman the moment the divorce finalized. the children he would go on to sire with her would create a wide rift in my family of in-fightng and nastiness, as his children believed without doubt that my grandmothers little sister was a bastard and not one of his own.

(at my grandmothers funeral, her sister would confront their ancient ninety-something father, lost almost entirely to his alzheimers as he clung to his wife and cried, with a DNA test proving she was always his daughter. it was really bad.)

my family is known for that in fighting now. the hedrics vs the brodeurs vs the nothern virginia family vs the florida family vs the- on and on and on. always fighting, bickering, cutting people off at the arm. nastiness. its how i was raised, to be angry and cruel, and its difficult to maintain sometimes.

so on we go- my grandfather developed diabetes too severe to keep trucking, and so he lost his job. he sat down in his recliner in front of the TV when he got home from work for the last time and in that recliner he sat til the day he died. nearly twenty years, and id say he left the house maybe a dozen times. no friends, no trips, only attending holidays that were hosted in our tiny home and only speaking to people who were there to visit my grandmother. he would wake up around 9pm and the sound of his tv would blare through the wall of my bedroom until nearly 4pm when hed toddle off to bed. i still cant sleep in silence.

my grandmothers diagnosis wasnt far behind; breast cancer. likely from some hormones shed taken decades prior before the effects of such things had been seen. she was scared, but she was strong, and her best friend moved down from massy to live a couple minutes up the road and help us on the daily. his name was jimmy blackbar, but we always called him jimmy black bear because he was a huge man with a frothy mane of black hair. from then on, we did everything as a unit; every errand, every outing, he even joined my karate dojo when i was forced to learn self defense following the abduction of a local girl.

and on life went. doctors appointments, whispered conversations, attending every susan g komen for the cure event in a wide radius around where we lived. we volunteered relentlessly; my grandmother wearing the "survivor" shirts, and me, a tiny thing in third or fourth grade, pushing her wheelchair and wearing the "caretaker" shirt. jimmy always in tow.

there came a week where we hadnt heard from jimmy in a few days and so, upon leaving the dojo to head home, as we passed his house i asked if we could check on him. my grandmother placated me, saying a man needs his space, and clearly he did bc he hadnt been at practice. just let him rest.

now, that was fair enough. while we did nearly everything together- even spending the autumn in massy with his mother once, arguably one of the most beautiful memories i have as my grandmother and i fed the koi out back then laid in a hammock for hours staring up at the orange and yellow canopy above- he had an explosive temper and had lost it frequently on the both of us. i loved him, but god he could be scary, and hed whip shit at you if he was particularly hot. maybe that was all he needed then, a little space.

a week later my mom picked me up from elementary school and burst into tears in the parking lot. "its jimmy, baby. his heart stopped."

hed had an aneurism and they found him face down on the floor of his bathroom. hed been laying there like that for days, clinging to life; hed been laying there, even, when we drove past a few days prior. i never forgot that.

life went on. it felt empty without him, and i started living up to that caretaker role more and more. heavy lifting, picking, moving; echoed even in my late twenties with my crippling sciatica. every doctors appointment, medication change, every cup of coffee. i was on call.

"jo-bear." "lucy." "goose." "trouble." "brat."

like clockwork, eternally being called up. can you do the dishes? laundry? sweep, mop? can you get this for me? can you help me? can you get my meds? and the less enjoyable; my shingles are flaring, can you put this on there? my drainage tubes are clogged, can you help me flush them? my port needs to be accessed, can you administer this?

why, you ask, would a 13 year old be well versed in clearing, accessing, and administering to a port in their grandmothers chest? well, easy. the nurses we paid to drive well out into the boonies to do it for us said it was too far. it fucked up their schedules. it was a waste of gas. and so they looked around at our home, tiny, with only a woodstove for heating, nicotine dripping down the walls and bare cabinets and pantry, and then they looked at me and asked; do you want to know how to do this instead? and dutiful, because i was a caregiver, because thats what everyone told me, i learned.

being poor is hard. being poor and sick is impossible. the cost of chemo, radiation, insulin, the gas to drive back and forth nearly five hours round trip to visit the hospitals, the doctors- we would only go grocery shopping once a month. my grandmother got social security and my grandfather got disability. wed bundle up what money we could and drive out to the nearest city to buy staples in bulk and pray. it meant i spent most of my childhood eating cereal for meals, or scraping together mayo on bread, or just outright nursing ketchup. i honestly can only remember maybe three instances of my grandmother cooking for me, cooking her special mac n cheese, and my mother told me years later that she always wondered how i got enough to eat.

the local food bank helped, i guess. a small church in town would gather the things the stores were about to throw away, like expired or moldy produce and bread, and then lay it out on the tables and have us all stand around them with our hands at the ready. theyd count down, then call "go!" and we would scramble to gather up anything we could reach to take home. it only happened once a month, so we tried to make the best of it.

after years of battling, my grandmother finally got the formal title of "remission." shed done it! it wasnt easy; there was mishap after mishap, infections, complications, her chest was a mutilated plane of ridges and folds that had at one point burst open and sprayed blood across the bathroom mirror as she screamed my name and sobbed for my grandfather. but finally, she was in remission.

for a few months, anyway. she began to grow uneasy, asking doctors for advice, for scans, because she could feel it encroaching. they all told her she had no insurance and was just paranoid from her battle. it took her months to finally find a doctor that took her seriously enough to humor a scan, and by then the cancer was everywhere. her ribs, her spine, her skull; it was everywhere.

the only person who took the news harder than her was my grandfather. he didnt want to watch her die, so he decided to do everything in his power short of killing himself to make sure he died first. his insulin shots were regular, but his sugar intake was not. he refused physical therapy, stopped going to his doctors appointments, and left our house to smell like the decomposition of human flesh as his feet began to rot.

"rot" sounds like a strong word. the decay was really happening; dry and wet gangreen, his toe coming off in my grandmothers hand at the lightest tug, and an extended hospital stay in which he was deeply deeply lucky not to succumb to sepsis. it was bad. but he was alive.

my mental health had at this point deteriorated to such a point i wasnt sleeping anymore. my grandmother was put on ambien, and as such began sundowning; wandering the house like a brittle confused ghost of a woman. she had dropped weight as she went back on chemo, rapidly dipping from 300lbs down to nearly scraping the bottom of 100lbs. she was shaped like a paper doll by then, wide from the front but she would turn to the side and disappear. i could hold my elbows around her. her head was bald and her feet were cold. she had a soft spot on the top of her skull that malformed her head where the radiation had eaten away the bone alongside the cancer. the knot on her forehead persisted.

she would never recall what she did at night, and while at the time i was indignant- i wasnt sleeping because she would call in a slurred haze to cancel taxis that werent due for several more hours but she thought had never shown up at all for doctors appointments she needed; she would fumble with the locks trying to wander out into the snow in the middle of the night, confused; she would yell my aunts name at me and berate me for trying to coax her back to bed; she would pull down what meager things we had in the kitchen and slurry them, ruin them, then blame me come morning; or, worst of all, she would simply find a place to stand. at the oven, by the small yellow light of its hood, staring into space for hours unresponsive- how dare she not remember how hard i had to work, how tired i was trying to keep her safe, and blame me for it too? it wasnt until reflection years later that i realized her denial was probably born of fear.

the ambien was my own waking nightmare, but it wasnt the worst of it. with my grandfathers rotten feet and my grandmothers mindless stumbling, falls were frequent. i had to be alert. i had to be ready. i never know when one of them would fall wrong and crack their head open on a corner. the mental image is as potent to me now as it was as a child, terrified in the half second of bone chilling silence that would come between the staggering of someones steps and the thundering peels of a body clattering sprawled across the floor. id be up and out of my room in a heartbeat to help, lifting people bigger than myself on pure adrenaline alone back to their seats so i could assess them.

the emergency squad, as you can imagine, was well acquainted with us. most falls had to be documented at least, hospitalized at worst, and so they would begin to come out every few months- then weeks- then days. they knew all of our pets by name. they regarded me with warm sadness. i think they must have said something to my grandfather, as in the thick of it hed tried to pack me up and throw me out. "this isnt a place for children," but if i left theyd have no one left. who would pick them up? check their medication? call the doctors, the emergency line, the taxis? who would make their coffee?

and so stubbornly i staid. i was a caregiver, after all, i was trained by the nurses and professionals who couldnt be bothered. i had to stay. i had to stay. i had to stay.

i stopped spending time with any of my friends beyond taylor. i stopped sleeping over with family. i stopped making day trips. eventually, around 13, i dropped out of school entirely.

i was falling asleep at my desk every day, horrified every bus ride home that id walk in to blood and gore and death. i was too distracted to learn anything and too afraid to really enjoy myself anyway. school wasnt an escape anymore when i was needed so desperately at home.

and so i stopped leaving the house really altogether, unless it was to go somewhere with them or to visit taylor (my rock). id thought at the time that her mother was my saving grace, the only adult in the world who understood me, who would drop everything to help me. i found out later that she hated me, and only did it to martyr herself to her peers and daughter.

as my grandmothers health declined over my teenage years, my grandfather became more erratic. he would throw fits, thundering around the house, slamming shit and crying, yelling at me because, "i'm dying too! im dying and nobody CARES! im dying and no one will even MISS ME!" as i sobbed and tried to reassure him. "my WIFE is DYING and theres NOTHING I CAN DO!"

and at the other end of things, my grandmother; wailing behind locked doors that my grandfather didnt love her anymore, that she was hideous, mutilated, she wasnt a woman anymore nevermind a human at all. i would lay against the door and beg her to unlock it so i could hug her, hold her, promise her that wasnt true. she never did let me in.

and so on life went. winters were always the hardest; we only had a woodstove, so my room was nearly perpetually the outdoor temperature. id sleep bundled in layers, wearing three pairs of socks to try to keep the frigid ache out of my feet, bundled up right up to a hat and hood over my head buried under three blankets to try to keep in some of the heat. it only worked so well when i was up and down all night anyway, looking after them. my grandmother was so withered she hardly produced her own heat anymore, and my grandfather had lost all feeling in his feet; often, hed find, they were resting against the broad side of the fireplace and burning, or the dogs were chewing on them. it was bleak.

now, throughout all of this i had tried my best to stay positive. id been raised in a southern baptist church that i had, at the height of my faith, been visiting four or five times a week. if anyone was going to help me save my grandparents, to be a good caregiver, it would be god right? even if no one else on the planet gave a shit, at least he would, right? at least, so long as i was good, and pure, and holy. no drugs, no alcohol, no self exploration, no expressions of sexuality- nothing. i did absolutely nothing, but try to focus on being a good christian and taking care of my grandparents.

at least, until the tension between my desperate dysphoria and my faith hit a breaking point when a gay couple joined our church and the pastor threw his sermon out the window to preach hellfire and death to faggots. they left in tears in the middle of the sermon and i was spun out and listless thereafter.

i dont honestly remember much from the time i dropped out until nearly 18. i was accused often and loudly of being a drug addicted whore, a liar, a slut, of being inappropriate with my grandfather, with my brothers, entirely baselessly, all thrown at me as a confused and hurt child by my family. it was my first real point of contention with my identity. while id gotten away with looking entirely ambiguous and using male names, male haircuts, male clothes, male interests and male friends to soothe my permeating wrongness at being called a girl, puberty was not kind to me. and with the unease over my gender and sexuality with seemingly no out (as who in a small christian town would have informed me of trans mens existence?), and with the deeply seeded feeling of utter failure as a caregiver whos patients were dying in front of them, and with the loss of my faith that had taught me near lethal levels of self hatred, i had no idea who i was anymore. no name felt right. no role. no place. i was nothing and no one.

and then my grandma died.

it wasnt a surprise. shed been declared "dying" twice before, and had survived. and while shed finally been moved to live with her son as he was right up the road from the hospital a good two and a half hours from us, and had been formally enrolled in hospice, and had withered into the skeletal apparition of a woman, i dont know how serious any of us could take the finality of her, once more, being declared "dying." she wouldnt live to see sunday. it was wednesday.

we went to visit her that day. she lay near motionless in bed, her voice soft and airy. id felt sick, nauseous, unsure of what to even do with myself. i laid with her. i held her. i told her how much i loved her. but the reality of it just kept bouncing off of me. i said my goodbyes, temporarily, until we visited again on saturday- i told her wed be back soon. and i walked out to the living room.

my mom and uncle talked a while longer, and so a good fifteen minutes had elapsed before we turned to actually leave. from her room down the hall i heard her calling. "i love you." and i was so exhausted, so callous in that moment, that from the living room i called back, "i love you too!" rather than taking that opportunity to see her one last time. we were coming back after all.

well. we didnt make it in time.

my grandfather had been hospitalized for the last week or so nearby, and his visit the night before ours hed told her gently, kindly, that she didnt have to keep holding on. it was okay to let go. wed be okay. and so she had, only a few hours after he left. i never got to see her again- she was cremated too soon after.

i have never, never forgiven myself for that. for not going back to see her when she called to me. i had no idea then what it would mean for her to truly die. to never see her, hear her, speak to her, hold her again. never. i didnt know any better.

my grandfather didnt find out until twelve hours later. my grandmother died november fourth, 2014, at around 4am. we visited him in the hospital as a family that same day, around 4pm, after wed all figured out what to say. when he saw us walk in the door, grim and pale and together, hed started hitching as if to vomit or sob or both before anyone had said a word.

after they told him he screamed at us, berated us, why would we wait so long to tell him? why wasnt he there for her? why didnt we call? and as he screamed his kids left one by one until it was only me at his bedside as he broke down. i held him in my arms as he wracked sobs and spit and sweat into the crook of my neck and clutched my shirt like he was a dying man himself.

i spent hours in bed with him, and every nurse, and every doctor who came through to check on us thereafter, and every aid at the nursing home he was sent to recover in received the same monotone greeting; "my name is roland brodeur, and my wife is dead."

i was alone for the week after. i didnt know what to think, or feel. relief, more than anything, at the time. it hd been so hard for so long to try to keep her together, keep myself together, keep our family together; no longer did i need to be up every night to make sure she wasnt hurt. no more wailing and vommitting in the bathroom. no more port flushes, or bandages, or wigs, or hair chunks in the food, or laughter, or her smokers cough, or the way shed say my name, or,

my grandfather successfully broke himself out of that nursing home three times in the week thereafter. only once did he reach the street without falling, and while he had no idea how to get home, he began walking anyway. they caught him, of course, but he was discharged soon after.

and so it was the two of us. wed never been exceedingly close, but without my grandmothers boisterous personality to fill the quiet crevices we began to spend more time together. it was slow; her memorial service was very very hard on us as i, 17, had tried to play host to people twice or thrice my age, and hed refused to come then changed his mind too late and missed it entirely; but we began to spend nearly all of our time together in the living room.

finally, for the first time in my life, he began to take his health seriously. she was dead, and he was alive, and i was still here. so our diets shifted, and he began attending his doctors appointments and bringing home small items for his physical therapy. we were going to be okay.

i turned 18 that december. the holidays were solemn; i was driven out to my aunts where my grandfather had promised to soon follow, but he never showed up. i spent christmas crying to myself, surrounded by family, and he spent it alone in our tiny rotting house.

come new years eve, he, taylor and i sat around trying to enjoy ourselves. this would be a fresh start. this would be a clean late. a month out from her death, maybe we could recover. taylor went to bed, he staid at his post in front of the tv, and i found things to occupy myself until i got tired enough to sleep. (it was hard, sleeping).

come 4am, i crossed the hall to get ready for bed and to say my goodnights to my grandfather. even at a distance though, i could tell something was wrong. he was pallid, sweaty, head hung and eyes glazed. i rushed to his side, turning on nearly every light in the house in the process, trying to get his attention.

he replied in garbled quiet syllables. i called my mom. she told me she was coming. he had a seizure. i called the emergency squad.

and so i staid there, kneeling in front of him and holding his hand, promising over and over again that i was here, im here, im here, im here, theyre coming and im here, its okay, im here.

they arrived nearly simultaneously; bursting through the front door to see what was wrong. over the course of their visit they realized his sugars were off the charts and pumped some insulin into him. as the levels came down he came back to himself, his vision and speech clearing until he was shrugging off their concerns and even cracking a joke. the tension began to ease. hes okay.

and then he had another seizure.

there was a beat of absolute silence before he sucked in a breath and the medic in front of him dropped to his knees to check on him. he was okay. a little out of it, but responsive. thank god.

and then he had another seizure.

and this time, the breath didnt follow. the medics voice pitched up as he repeated his name over and over again, calling him, checking his pulse, his pupils, and as a flurry of yelling began my mom started screaming at me to go to my room. i was gutted, breathless, silent, staring at my grandfathers limp body as the medics swarmed back through the front door and began using the paddles to try to bring him back.

i did relent to my mothers keening, stumbling numb back to my bedroom to where taylor somehow slept peacefully. heavy with grief already weighing in my chest, i crawled up her body and fell face down and sobbing into her stomach. i didnt know what else to do.

the ambulance took him to be air lifted. they did everything they could. he was dead before he ever left our property, though.

the image that still stands out to me was of my mother. it had been with my grandmother too- id been sleeping on her couch as she paced through the living room, crying quietly into the phone, and as i woke up, i knew. and here to, she was on her knees on the living room floor, sobbing and begging god not to take both of her parents so soon. i held her while she cried and told her it would be okay, even if i didnt believe it myself.

its a long drive from so far out in the sticks to reach the hospital. the wait seemed even longer once we were there. they stuck us in a quiet side room, isolated, seemingly endlessly. my mother and i had been crying on and off but taylor had remained stony faced and strong for me. it was only when i looked to her, feeling nothing but coldness in my soul and whispered, "i dont want to be an orphan." that a single tear rolled down her cheek and nothing else.

i think in all the time this happened, taylor was the only person who ever held me.

when the doctor finally arrived, it was with the news we all expected. "im sorry," as he handed my mom a box of tissues, "we did everything we could. he was dead long before he arrived here."

he lead us to see my grandfathers body. it was surreal, to see him laying there, tinted purple and bruised all over. his eyelids were ruddy, and the hand id been clutching hours previous was like ice. his skin still somehow pliant, while his joints had begun to stiffen. i just stood there and held it for what felt like hours. my mother told me later he looked like he was smiling, but i never saw it.

and so. on life goes. my mom drove taylor and i back to my empty terrible little home and dropped us off. we milled around, exhausted, but sleepless. she helped me rearrange the furniture to put less of an emphasis on my grandparents favorite places to sit, as they were plainly visible from my bedroom doorway and the torment was endless as my head turned to smile at them every time i left to use the bathroom. it was awful. when taylor had to leave, i was just left there, alone.

i had failed as a caregiver. i had failed as a grandchild. i had failed as their youngest. i had no one in the world in that moment. that winter was bitter, and i couldnt bring myself to be present enough to keep the woodstove lit. the animals and i all froze for it, but i could barely climb out of bed. no heat, no cable, nothing to comfort me left beyond my own meager devices. i had the first two hobbit movies on dvd and so i stuck them into my xbox and they played nonstop on loop for months. it was the only way to fill the silence. the only voices i could listen to. i dont remember eating a single thing. my family just left me there. i was no ones responsibility, and so i would be no ones burden. as an adult i learned they all felt so guilty over what id been put through they didnt want to face what i would have become after that.

it was in this time the nightmares really began. there was one, one specific nightmare, in which i was in my house in the dead of night with nothing but pitch black outside, and i would run door to door trying to keep them locked and the horrible cruel things outside at bay. i never did see them, whatever i was desperately trying to hide from, but it was omnipresent and i was terrified of it.

at every turn the doors would again be unlocked and open. the latches would give at the lightest tug. the darkness would seep through the cracks. the only variables were my grandparents, like props- sometimes they were there in the living room, unresponsive to me as they stared into the television. sometimes only one of them. sometimes i was alone. but over and over again i had this nightmare, every single time i fell asleep. regardless of the time of day, of if i was sleeping or napping or just resting my eyes, i had this nightmare. and i had it for nearly three and a half years thereafter. sleep deprivation was my only solace from it, driven to such an extent that i began having prolonged hallucinations and severe paranoia.

my only solace was after the pipes froze and burst in our little cement basement. they couldnt justify leaving me there much longer, so my aunt told me- just another two weeks. if i staid in the house she would come to get me to move in with her. at that point i was so happy just to have an out that i begged my neighbor to periodically stop in on the remaining animals in the house so i could go stay with taylor until it was time to move.

my aunt called me LIVID when she found out. she berated me at the top of her lungs for disobeying her. maybe that should have been a red flag, but i was so consumed in my own self blame for my grandparents death that i assumed she was right to feel that way.

i got little say in what was kept when we went back to clean the house out after. in fact, i got almost nothing of my grandparents. to this day, all i have is my grandmothers favorite hoodie. somewhere in the process, the cleaning solutions we had been using must have gotten in my eye because the pain was bad, and the effects would be lasting.

living with my aunt was a nightmare. she was unyeilding; scolding and punishing me for not getting out of bed because the infection in my eyes was so bad i couldnt see and it hurt to have any light hit them. insisting it was my fault i was left nearly half blind, and that my lack of recovery was because i wasnt trying hard enough. (i was told later i had had severe chemical burns and infection that have left my corneas riddled in holes and craters, and severely light sensitive. all of it could have been fixed with a single doctors visit in the worst of it.)

and on it went; i had no time to grieve, as she forced me out the door and into terrible fulltime jobs. they became my only reprieve from her, as any time i was home i had a chore list of no less than four hours worth of cleaning that she would accuse me up and down of lying about on the daily. shed gaslight me, set traps, pull gotchas, until i began to believe her. i genuinely thought i was making up the hours id spend working on cleaning, that i was a lazy liar, and that i deserved the slow recession of any right to food in the house she imposed.

my most beloathed of chores was dishes. every night after dinner, of which i was allowed to eat less and less until not at all, i would have to come down to clean up after the families meals. her pampered chef knives were her prized possessions, and her rules for cleaning them were strenuous. the closest ive ever come to killing myself was standing in that kitchen, over her sink, with one of her favorite knives pressed into my wrist as the depths of sorrow and grief id had to pave over to maintain what she wanted me to do began to crumble.

the only thing that stopped me was the gentle realization that if i killed myself here, the first person to see it would be one of my younger cousins. that that would be something he would never be able to forget or move on from. its the only thing that stopped me.

i would go on to climb the railing of an overpass at around 1am in the dead of a december night. i was bitterly cold, having no winter jacket, a two hour walk from home, being punished by my aunt because the job shed hoisted upon me had kept me later than she felt like coming to get me. so i had no choice but to walk on broken feet after nearly twelve hours of standing, with no winter clothes to deal with the whipping icy winds, and no street lights or sidewalks to follow. i couldnt do it anymore. i was so tired, in so much pain, with only blame and alienation from my family. i just wanted to die and be done with it.

two rungs from flipping my legs over the railing, movement caught my eye. at the far end of the dark overpass was the vaguely visible outline of a golden retriever whos owner was walking it down the long road i had to walk to get home. and i thought, maybe, if i could pet that dog, maybe i could keep going. maybe id be okay. the road was across a wide flat area, prepared for development that had yet to start, so the visibility was a near quarter mile in the moonlight. and so.. slowly.. i stepped down and began to trudge on.

yet, when i reached the end of the overpass, they were nowhere to be seen. there was nowhere to go, mind you, but forward; there were cliffs to either side of the overpass that went down into the highway, and then this single stretch of road forward with no trees or houses for the duration. they had simply vanished. i still dont really know what happened.

and on i trudged. nothing else to do but survive day to day under my aunts open hostility. i wasnt allowed to eat family meals, no, but then rules came about keeping my own food in the house. it would be doled out to my cousins and uncle if i dared to, and food in my bedroom was prohibited. the best i could do was hide a few cereal bars between my mattress and the wall for the days i couldnt eat at work. it was miserable.

"just get over it. youre bumming everyone else out." told to me, six months after the death of both of my parents. no one had asked me if i was okay in that time. no one had held me. no one had told me it wasnt my fault. taylor was the only silver lining i had. she was always there for me at a moments notice, she kept me sane, and god i love her so much. i dont think i would have survived it without her.

i managed to scrape by until i met Lo, the man im due to marry next month. this was nearly seven years ago now, but i still remember the nervous jitters the first time i packed a bag and bought a train ticket to make my first solo journey from virginia all the way down to florida to meet in person. id go on to make the 20 hour trip frequently, falling into his arms and having the brightest points of my life, only to be left sobbing and wracked with fear the morning of my return to my aunts home. it was hell. but i was starting to find reasons to pull through.

even if my aunt had outed me as trans and gay while i was visiting him, effectively burning my bridges with most of my family behind my back and then lying to my face about it for weeks after. my mother wouldnt look me in the eye. my extended family has never once spoken to me since. my own brothers wont come to my wedding because im a faggot, rooted in the reaction my mom had to this and how its grown nasty and dehumanizing since.

(i have a very strong feeling that the majority of the years i spent this way are locked up tight in an alter who hasnt fronted in years. i frequently broke down over depersonalization and being convinced i truly wasnt myself then, in a way i have not felt since. i really cant remember most specifics, but the cadence alone would give it away, i think. at the time i was too afraid to face it head on and define what was happening to me, but in retrospect im nearly positive.)

and so on i trudged. my aunts aggressions would gradually grow over time, until a night where id let my guard down around my brothers visiting us and shed gotten me by the nick of my hoodie and dragged me down my the throat to hiss and growl and snarl nasty things to me over an argument wed had days prior. shed blocked me from the internet and ignored my very existence in the elapsing days. it all came to a head with this interaction, a nasty game of parroting that i was lucky to have her, that i love her, that im grateful she forgives me for the things i do, and punctuated with a hug i was forced to initiate. when i told my coworkers the next morning, in tears, i was told if she put her hands on me once shed do it again. i told my mom the next day i needed her to come get me right now.

the day we went back to get my possessions was the last day i ever spoke to my aunt. she was purple in the face, veins stood out against her forehead and screaming wrathful nasty things at my sobbing mother about me as i tried to gather my things- thrown into a haphazard corner of the garage after id pleaded with her to just leave my room untouched and let me organize and gather my belongings.

my mother hyperventilated on the drive home, and told me through gritted teeth that shes worried my aunt may have been abusing me. i told her exactly what she had done to me, and she had to pull over to stomach it. a week later she told me my aunt was trying to get in touch and i should go ahead and give her a call. (the betrayal and fear i felt in that moment was rivaled only by my mom freely inviting her over to visit without warning me first.)

my mother would ask often when i was planning on moving out. she didnt want me there, that was plainly clear, and the raw edges of my recent outing didnt help. i was given a mattress on the floor in the kitchen, in plain view of everyone at all times, covered in ants with the cat box beside my pillow. my only reprieves were times i spent with taylor or lo, anywhere i could find to be that wasnt her home.

lo was already planning a move with his mother to phoenix by this time, as neither of them could afford a place of their own, and so i was invited along. i dont think ive ever said yes to something so quickly in my life.

phoenix ill elapse; i spent two years making a three hour commute to a job that did horrific things to my mental and physical health. my sciatica was so aggressively hurt by the ways in which i begged my managers for accessibility that they refused that i would often collapse off of numb lightning struck legs, scattering anything i was carrying. my longest shift worked there began at 4am and ended at 12:30am. twenty and a half hours. i got two thirty minute breaks, a single compensated meal, and had to work the next day.

tensions with los mother, a deeply traumatized neuro divergent woman who wasnt aware of any of the above, finally hit a fever pitch and over the course of a week we were rendered homeless, sleeping on taylors floor. while her mother welcomed us in with open arms, her nastiness was prevalent and constant. bitter and put upon by our very existence under her roof. we were kicked out later so her transphobic boyfriend would be more comfortable coming over to visit.

from there we landed a disgusting single room in a frat house in maryland that hadnt been properly cleaned in the years preceding our arrival. it was so bad we left within a month to move in with who would later turn out to be an absolute psychopath of a woman in a slightly nicer house. after a year of trying my best to be friends with her she turned on us, blew up our living arrangement, called the cops on us, got the wifi cut for a week, took all the locks off our front door so we couldnt lock her out & eventually got us evicted entirely. why? because i asked her to buy some food for her cats because in the weeks she hadnt been home and id been taking care of all of her animals (not that shed asked me to) theyd run out of kibble.

and that rounds us out to now. los mom drove up to get us, two years out from phoenix and a lot of self discovery later, were now out here in the sticks of alabama. lo and i have been together nearly seven years now and were slotted to get married next month, so life really has begun to look up for me, but man. sometimes its all just so fuckin much. i went through so fuckin much and for what? yknow? my family is still shit. i dont speak to my aunt, my mother and brothers refused to come to my wedding, my grandparents and jimmy are still dead, and so my entire world has been condensed down to a handful of friends- taylor, elliot, ofc my fiance- and really nothing else. i dont really feel like i have any family anymore. its a grieving process still, to accept that, loss after loss like that, but it gets a little easier every day.

& anyway if youve ever wondered why i have a system, i think it oughtta make a little more sense now. lol.

#in which isaiah spends 3 hours writing out the most boring story youve ever read in your life #if you have any triggers theyre probably in there somewhere! watch out lol!#fuck knows if this is even accurate my memories and perceptions of my life are absolutely fucked #did you know cptsd eats holes in your brain and ruin things like memory and comprehension #on top of having segmented alters that carry so much of it themselves like. man. idk #thats rough buddy! lol

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6knotty6thotty6 · 1 year

Text

Wake Me Up When December Ends

CW: Death, Abuse, Suicide

December is a strange month for me. December 28th, in particular, is the anniversary of my step-father's burial. He was 48 years old. For those who've read my coming out story, you know that he wasn't a good person. I won't be going into everything he's done to me, but needless to say, what was in my story was a drop. That being said, I'm not particularly happy that he's dead. I'm happy that I don't have to constantly walk on egg shells around my own house and not be berated and belittled for "asking stupid questions." I'm happy that my mom can retire before she turns 60 (he had terrible spending habits and was a drug addict/alcoholic.) I'm happy that I finally feel comfortable with my body, gender identity, and sexual orientation.

My mom and step-father can best be described as a reverse Cinderella. Ha came from a poor abusive family in the rural south. Her family was also poor and abusive, but she was intelligent enough to attend a good college and get a job away from her hometown. He wasn't so lucky. He's made it clear multiple times that if it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have made it 30. What frustrated me about him was every time my mom tried to help him, he'd push back and relapse into his old ways. My step-father has shown that he wanted to change. He acknowledged that his childhood was traumatizing and his parents were horrible. He even tried to get therapy to unpack the PTSD he got from the 10 years he spent in prison. Yet, he still continued to indulge in self-destructive behaviors that lead to his death. Part of the reason why I wasn't sad when he died was because his death was so preventable. He died from high blood pressure and diabetes. He never took his medicine, drank sugary beer like it was water, and he never exercised outside of getting into fights with strangers. As for his mental issues, I wanted him to get treatment for that more than anything. He wasn't also the mentally abusive person who almost ruined my life. He and I used to be best friends. We'd always wrestle, got out on midnight snack ribs, played video games (and by that, I mean I'd watch him), and I'd tell him all my secrets. Then when I became a teenager, things started changing. My mom was alwasy the primary breadwinner, but he used to have a job just so he could buy his own stuff. Then when she kept getting promotions and higher paying jobs, he started to become lazier and lazier and started drinking more. My mom and I also suspected that he also had undiagnosed bipolar disorder. He'd have severe mood swings and would rant to me about random frustrations he had for 3 hours straight (without my consent, of course). She tried to get him into therapy and group counseling. She had more an enough money to get him the best therapist and medication in the world. Despite everything she did for him, he never got better and essentially committed a slow suicide. It's sad because I wanted to have the father that compelled my mom to marry him after getting her heart broken by my biological father. I wanted the father that made all my friends envious. I wanted the father that would proudly give me away at my wedding (if I ever got married). I wanted the father who would be the cool grandfather (if I ever adopted a child). Most of all, I wanted my best friend back.

On the 28th, my mom and I visited the Lock-Lock Bridge in Amsterdam. She placed a lock on the bridge with his and her initials with the dates that they've been married. She told me that doing that was a great form of closure. In a way, it was closure for me as well. I don't forgive my step father for what he did nor do I mourn for him. I mourn the potential future we could've had as a family. I mourn all the happy memories that have been lost to time. More than anything, I mourn my first best friend.

#december #mourning #father #fathers #venting #abuse

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wyrmfedgrave · 4 months

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Pics:

1 & 2. Photos of Jules Verne, himself.

3 & 4. Covers to various editions of the story under investigation. #3 includes Mysterious Island as well. And #4 has a great painting of the battling sea leviathans!

1906: The Earth (is) Not Hollow.

In 1864, polymath, dreamer & sci-fi writer Jules Verne published his huge hit "Journey to the Center of the Earth."

Plot: This journey starts with a German geologist examining a runic manuscript with a backwards coded Latin inscription.

An alchemist secreted instructions to reach the center of the world! And the way in is thru Mt. Snaefell, a dormant volcano...

Once finding the entrance, our heroes get lost in the roots of the mountain. Following an underground river, they reach a vast shoreline. Which is all covered in giant mushrooms - growing from mastodon bones!

They make a raft out of petrified wood & sail for the far shore...

They barely survive a battle between giant sea dinosaurs & a long lasting electrical storm.

Reaching the shore, they explore the beach, finding a human skull &, a fossilized human body!

Suddenly, they see a giant - who's busy shepherding a herd of living mastodons!!

Fleeing, they follow a marked path to a blocked way. This they blow aside with gunpowder.

Back on their craft, they're carried away in a torrent. Hours later, they're suddenly pushed upwards...

Two months after they entered this underworld, they're disgorged - via a volcanic eruption (!!) - on the surface of Stromboli Island, Italy!

Pics:

1. The explorers in a Cave of Giant Diamonds - much too large to carry off!!

2. Our heroes find the Fields of Giant Mushrooms!

3. The rocky shore from where the wide sea will be crossed.

4. I love the attention that the artist spent on the underground ecology.

Author: Jules Verne was a French writer that helped (H.G. Wells) to lay the foundations of modern sci-fi.

His father wanted Jules to become a lawyer. But, Verne fell in love with literature.

Jules worked as a secretary - while writing plays & short stories. Verne dreamt of a genre where he could mix scientific facts with adventure tales.

In 1862, Jules published his 1st novel "Five Weeks in a Balloon" - an international bestseller!

For this, Verne was offered a long term contract, to write more scientific adventures...

This would lead to a 40+ year career & 60+ successful works.

But, after 1886, Jules became more pessimistic. With stories exploring the dangers of "high tech" made by hubris filled scientists...

Personal problems with Verne's own son & financial difficulties forced him to sell off his priced yacht.

Then, the deaths of his mother & mentor left Jules emotionally bereft...

Verne even got shot (in the leg!) - by his own nephew!! This left him partly crippled.

Jules fell sick weeks after his 78th birthday. Burdened by diabetes & a stroke, Verne died quietly - with his family around him.

Pic: The beautiful headstone/monument for another dreamer gone on to the Underworld...

Criticism: This classic adventure novel is not a long book. But, it holds an amazing amount of fast paced action & a well constructed plot.

Its main theme is the quite common 1 of perseverance in the face of any hardship - even to ignoring all reason!

Though it takes it's time setting every thing up, once it gets going, 1 can't put it down.

Legacy:

1. When Jules Verne died, he left behind a drawerful of almost finished manuscripts. When finally published, it was found out that his son had rewritten them!

He had changed the stories' style & added characters to make these last tales more melodramatic.

Most critics condemned these works - for being 'contaminated'...

2. "Journey to the Center of the Earth" has been adapted into film several times: 1910, 1959, 1988 & 2008.

3. It's also been turned into a late 1960s Filmation/20th Century Fox cartoon & a TV series in 1977.

4. At the Tokyo/Disney theme park, there's a "Journey" slot car 'dark' ride based on Jules' story - visit today...

#earth not hollow #scifi #aside #weird geology #jules verne #adventure

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mineofilms · 1 year

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Fitness Tips: 2023

Fitness Tips: 2023 My History in/with Fitness, specifically WEIGHT-TRAINING…

From the time I was 13 till I was about 25; pretty much everyone that knew me or knew of my reputation in the SWFL area would praise me for my weightliting efforts. Not just the look but the numbers I could throw up for a small statured person. I was never even challenged in powerlifting till I went to State in my high school run and I still fared better than most being in the Top 5 twice out of 3 years in the state of FL. When I got older drinking, chasing girls, working with bands, film school, computer systems/networking school, took up a lot of my time; but when I finally got back into fitness I was going the bodybuilding route, due to the amount of weight I put on over the years. I didn’t know much about bodybuilding or using weight training to lose weight being into powerlifting most of my life. I was partying heavily and on ever OTC (Over the Counter) supplement I could find.

I was taking a heavy stim preworkout and drinking with it sometimes. Between all that my body decided to go into a diabetic state that just progressively got worse. I couldn't manage it. I still cannot manage it. The reason why I think the supplement had more to do with this than the lifestyle is because that is the great common denominator. I was always living this life. When I started adding these stimulant preworkouts is when I started to have problems and my dumbass just kept doubling down, like CNN on a given broadcast lol.

Eventually, my lifestyle was too much for my diabetic state and my body crashed several times over an 8 year span. Now I have even more problems. When you look at pics from those earlier years of my diabetic state you can see what my body was actually doing. It was literally eating my insides out from the inside out. Almost like a parasite would operate. First it went for all my fat reserves, then it started working on my physical strength, then it literally started to eat away my muscle mass. I was 188lbs in early 2012, by mid-2012 I was down to 150 lbs and even got down to 138 a year or so later. Sure I was working out, I wasn't dieting all that much but had choose better quality of foods. 2013-2014 my body leveled off a little because I eased up on the drinking; but that only lasted a year before I went back to hitting the bottle hard along with whatever female was around at the time to keep me, um, “occupied.” I was still taking heavy stim preworkouts. I was hospitalized in 2017 for an infection on my right middle finger. They wanted to chop it off, I wasn’t having any of that, nope... Then Covid happened. I got Covid halfway through the pandemic and it aggravated my diabetes to such a level that my body went into ketoshock and I had almost died. I have had serious and complex issues ever since.

So, yeah, if you look at pics of me from 2014, I am ripped, six pack, shredded but my strength was way down and getting worse. Now since I quit drinking, the drinking was making my condition worse, I was able to get my weight back up to around 157-162 on a given day. So, not ripped anymore but still pack a good punch. I am somewhere between fit dad bod and a natural bulldog look. I am happy with that. If I had a car and a better money situation I would be at a controlled environment like a gym. Right now I am training in my @home Garage Gym Life with what I have to work with, which is a decent setup for home gym. With the weather down here it is hard for me to really get after it. I cannot handle the heat very well anymore and the garage is not insulated. It gets hot in there even when it’s only in the 70s-80s. It will feel like 100+ in there. I have had to condense my training efforts significantly.

Some of you have ask for some general tips. So here are some…

TIPS: Some of this might sound basic as fuck but it’s important:

1) Consistency – A steady balance of: Diet, Rest, Training and Repeat. All of these are equally difficult but Repeat is the hardest. You do not have to train every day. Actually you shouldn’t train every day but you should train 4-5 days a week and hit at least every body part once or twice pending on your schedule.

2) Eat a well-balanced diet. If you want your body to grow you have to feed it. Protein based foods. You can never fail with meats and veggies people. No matter what all the articles, YouTube channels, professionals say about diet. You have to eat protein based meals. You cannot replace food with shakes. Shakes are not a meal replacement but are meal enhancements. You drink a shake with your meal if the meal doesn’t have the protein you need to sustain both muscle repair and muscle growth. You can/should have a protein shake or a BCAA drink after your workout. There is no magic number here. You need 60 grams of protein for breakfast alone to sustain muscular growth. You will have to look up what your bodyweight/height, all that stuff, and find a number that works for you per meal that triggers the body to respond to this stimulus.

3) You need to rest your body. Your body grows/loses weight during rest/sleep. Do not short change yourself in that arena if your plan is to grow more. Your brain and body both need rest, so sleep… Even losing weight, the body needs to rest to repair what work you did to it.

4) This goes back to consistency… Repeat… If you do all this you must make it habitual. If you are constantly breaking your routine of diet, rest, exercise and skip the repeat button your results will show this.

5) Do not over train. Over training is a real thing but what “they” do not tell you is what that actually means. Over training simply means your diet/rest are not matching your effort in the gym. You might go in the gym and bust ass for 3 hour workouts and that is fine but you have to do both rest and eat at that same intensity or your body will not build upon itself as you expect it will.

6) If your body feels flat, tired and your results are becoming hindered, most likely that is because your body isn’t getting enough nutrients and rest to match the breakdown of your body in the gym. Be mindful. This is the one single reason people quit their fitness journey. The science is real, however, it is not a one size fits all and trainers/coaches will treat you like it is, it isn’t, everyone is different. Everyone’s body is different and what triggers their own stimulus is different. It is a trainer’s/coach’s job to sell you on the premise that you cannot achieve your fitness goals without their help/guidance. That is only partially true. You can absolutely get in shape without paying the obscene amounts of money that trainers/coaches charge people. Especially in group training establishments. However, not all coaches/trainers are like this and you personally may need that extra help. Just know that this is doable on your own if you are willing to put in the time, energy, research, diet, rest, exercise, attention, acceptance, repeat onto yourself. It is more than just projecting this on yourself. You must actually DO IT… No level of belief will do this for you. You must comply and do the work or nothing that is wanted will be achieved.

7) Look up split routines. Look up HITT training. Look up Hypertrophy or the process of how muscles are broken down and built back up. Look up the differences for training for power, endurance and growth. All 3 are different but share common attributes. They are also not all mutually exclusive.

8) Supplements… Be careful with these. If you are gonna use supplementation do your research. Most supplements and/or companies are not regulated by the FDA. They have labels, sure, but what is on the label is not literally monitored by the FDA. You may buy protein and realize the protein has a bunch of fillers in there to make it taste better, but may be a substance that your digestive tract cannot process. I would also stay away from Stimulant based preworkouts. They make you feel great, but what they do not tell you, in a lot of cases, they are using one of like 30 different chemicals that are considered and/or in the meth family tree. You are not ingesting literal meth, but it will pop you as a positive drug test for meth. This is because your standard drug test for meth covers ALL of the whole family of meth-based-chemicals. Not all of them are illegal but they are still considered “meth.” You have to get a comprehensive drug test done so they can see the exact chemical make-up of what is in your urine/bloodstream. It costs more so they do not usually do that. Also if you are taking drug tests regularly you should bring in all the supplements you are taking and let the lab people see it for themselves. I almost got into trouble with probation when I was on probation because I got popped for meth and had to bring in the supplement I was taking that had that meth-family-chemical in it. That is how I know this lol. You can use protein freely for the most part. Plant based is better on the gut than others. There are all sorts of things you can take that are good. You can use a non-stim preworkout or just get Beta-Alanine which is the reason why most people take preworkout to begin with. Just do your research and do not trust that the supplement companies have your best interests in mind. They don’t. They just want you to buy their stuff. If that stuff hurts you or causes sickness or worse they will not help you or even show they care. ALL supplement companies should not be trusted with your health, but you can use supplementation to help garner a better diet and workout recovery. Just do your homework and research on the chemical make-up of the substance you are putting into your body. You should be mindful and doing this anyway…

9) If you want better workout tips follow some of these channels and/or mine on YouTube. I can recommend a few. My channel mostly just shows some creative workouts you can do but I do not cover a lot of the things I have mentioned here. That is why I put this together for you all. You can always message me with your questions. I am not taking clients because to be honest I cannot give you what you really need and that is time, attention; plus I cannot literally monitor what you do on a given day.

Me – https://www.youtube.com/@mineofilms ATHLEAN-X™ - https://www.youtube.com/@athleanx BodyBuilding.com - https://www.youtube.com/bodybuildingcom BroScienceLife - https://www.youtube.com/@BroScienceLife FitnessBlender - https://www.youtube.com/@fitnessblender Tiger Fitness - https://www.youtube.com/@TigerFitness Mike O'Hearn - https://www.youtube.com/@MikeOHearnTitan

Hope this helps…. Mineo (pronounced Mini-O)

Fitness Tips: 2023 By David-Angelo Mineo 1/13/2023 1,918 Words

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romanijuva · 2 years

Photo

Hello my lovelies how is the weather treating you? Sun has been shining since it rose in sunny Bexleyheath. I love the sun and it's warm healing rays of vitamin D. I've always been a sunbaby getting in the garden with as little clothing I can get away with living where we are. Living in the South East of England primarily North West Kent and South East London we're lucky to have a mild climate in comparison to the North of England and some other parts of the UK. So donning a hat sunglasses 😎 suncream a book, music (of course! 😁) a drink nearby I'm taking advantage of this gorgeous weather. However, I have noticed my blood glucose levels have been in range but my RH and Diabetic fam & friends who test their blood regularly noticed despite being in the upper end of normal it's affecting me adversely. I had a hyperglycemic event waking me just before sunrise. For those not on insulin or Metaformin meds how do you bring your blood sugar levels down? It's difficult to exercise when my heart is racing so fast it takes your breath away zapping your strength. I drink water but I'm limited as I get nausea & vomiting. Water can make me vomit if I drink too much but then I can't stop being sick which triggers a Hypo and I end up in hospital attached to a IV. I'd rather at all costs avoid hospitals. As I know from past experience I caught viral double Pneumonia in hospital while being treated for bacterial double Pneumonia and severe sepsis shock a second time! I almost died. So if I can catch my blood sugar levels before it spikes I use cannabis which can sometimes lower it enough to help with the adverse symptoms. I still get the swollen neck feeling. But with the weather warning from the Met saying we're going to be looking at 40°C+ I thought I'd share this with you lovely lot incase it might help you ❤️https://www.diabetes.co.uk/diabetes-and-hot-weather.html?mc_cid=ebfb54ac03&mc_eid=9bd8f03fc5 (at In the Garden) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgHchdpsSpA/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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page-doctor-bekker · 3 years

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Human Error (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this really doesn’t actually have anything to do with sarah being trans, it just takes place in the same universe. this is literally just an event that happened in this au written out so i can write about effects surrounding it without people being confused lol.

“Reese, we’re slammed, any chance you can take treatment four?” Maggie pointed at Sarah Reese, and then at the fourth treatment room. Sarah looked up from the computer, before grabbing her tablet and heading to the treatment room.

“Hi, Mr. Nearling? I’m Dr. Reese, what seems to be the issue today?” Sarah pushed for hand sanitizer, rubbing her already-dry hands together until the gel had absorbed.

“Trouble breathing…” The man took a few labored breaths, “Cold sweat… I’m shaking, I can’t breathe-”

“Okay, I see, when did this start? Does your chest hurt at all?”

“I… I had a big meeting today and it just happened suddenly. I guess it hurts a little bit.”

“Can I take a listen to your heart?” Sarah asked, already taking her stethoscope off of her neck. The man nodded, and she pressed the drum to his chest. His heart was racing.

He started talking fast, “Are you going to be able to give me a doctor’s note? I’m going to lose my job…” He started breathing faster.

“Has this ever happened before?” Sarah asked, lifting the stethoscope from the man’s chest, “Any history of anxiety or panic disorders?”

“Never like this,” He choked up and coughed a bit, “But, I had social anxiety as a kid.”

“Do you have any family history of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure? Do you smoke, drink?”

“No, none of that,” The man waved his hands, “I’m a healthy guy. A vegetarian, everything- everything is fine! I’m perfect, I can’t-”

“Mr. Nearling-” He was hyperventilating, and Sarah grabbed one of his hands, “Mr. Nearling, I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Dr. Reese let go of his hand, and hung her stethoscope back around her neck, and tapped on her iPad, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down, then we can talk about coping strategies and I will refer you to outpatient psychiatry to continue care. April, push 1.5 milligrams of Ativan.”

April pushed the medication through the patient’s IV line, and Dr. Reese pulled up a round, spinning stool to the bed and sat down. April nodded at the doctor, and left the room, pulling the curtain shut.

Mr. Nearling calmed down noticeably, which Dr. Reese took as a success - Panic attack subsided. Dr. Reese smiled, “It’s normal to have some residual physical symptoms, mild tightness, shortness of breath, but as the medication works you’ll calm down more and more. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Mr. Nearling shrugged, “Maybe? I’ve never gone to the hospital for it.”

“After a severe panic attack you may have more panic attacks in the coming days or weeks, so I’m going to call in a mild benzodiazepine in case you need a bit of help,” Dr. Reese typed that into the tablet, “When you feel the anxiety and panic start up, you definitely want to try coping mechanisms before you take medication for it. The medication is just for if those coping mechanisms don’t work, which sometimes happens and is to be expected every once in a while.”

Mr. Nearling nodded, taking a deep breath. It was shaky going out, but residual anxiety can do that.

“So, a good first step, whenever you’re having a panic attack, is to recognize that you’re having a panic attack. If it doesn’t work to say it in your head, say it out loud,” Dr. Reese tapped the tablet against her leg with each coming syllable for emphasis, “I am having a panic attack.”

“I am having a panic attack.”

And just like that, it was no longer a panic attack. Mr. Nearling went limp, and the monitors started going crazy. Dr. Reese held two fingers to the man’s neck, and yelled out, “I need a crash cart!”

Everything moved fast after that. Sarah was pushed out of the way by two ED doctors, who started barking out orders.

“He’s in cardiac arrest, page CT. Reese, get on his chest-”

Sarah could feel blood pounding in her ears, and she clasped one hand over the other and started humming. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… No matter how much CPR she performed, she still needed the song to keep her on beat.

“-Milligram of Epi.”

Ah, ha, ha, ha…

“Hold compressions,” Dr. Choi barked, holding two fingers to the man’s neck, “Clear!”

The man’s chest lurched as he was shocked, and Sarah’s heart jumped into her throat. Dr. Choi held his fingers back to the man’s neck, “Another milligram of Epi. Charge to 200.”

Sarah resumed compressions. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’...

“Clear!”

Sarah held her hands up, shaking. This never got easier.

“Asystole,” April sighed out, preparing another milligram of Epi. She knew exactly what Dr. Choi was going to ask for next.

“Another milligram of Epi.”

Sarah reached to resume compressions, but Dr. Choi swatted her hands out of the way and did CPR himself. Dr. Choi did it slightly faster than Sarah did. He knew the man was dead.

Sarah squeezed her clammy hands together, shaking like a leaf.

Dr. Bekker rushed in almost immediately after Dr. Choi stopped compressions, and was floored when Choi called time of death.

“Alright, why wasn’t this patient taken to the cath lab as soon as his heart attack was diagnosed?” Ava’s tone was stone cold.

Everyone looked at Sarah.

“He uh… He presented with…” She cleared her throat, “With shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, shakiness, and extreme anxiety as well as a positive history for social anxiety. He did not-” She cracked her knuckles, “Um… He also displayed signs of work-related stress and no- Uh, no risk factors for heart attack. I determined he was having a panic attack and ordered 1.5 milligrams of Ativan and started talking about coping strategies with him.”

“Whenever a patient shows up with chest pains they should receive a FULL cardiac workup REGARDLESS of history and risk factors,” Dr. Bekker took a step towards Sarah, and grew louder, “If YOU were in the emergency room with CHEST PAIN, would you be anxious?!”

“I- uh-”

“You did NOTHING you should have. ANXIETY is NOT a contraindication for a heart attack, and now this man is dead. Leaving him to die in the waiting room would be more effective,” She spat out, her tone venomous, “Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was out of the room before she even knew she was moving. Her feet dragged her away and her heart was practically leaping out of her chest. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she started chewing on her tongue to avoid letting them go. She clenched her fists as Dr. Charles called her name.

“Dr. Reese! I was paged to the ED, something about you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Sarah,” He whispered, “Go sit in my office when you’re done. I’m going to finish rounds. We’ll talk when I’m done,” He started to walk away, before turning around, “You’re not in trouble, Sarah, I just want to understand what happened.”

Sarah pushed open the swinging door to the women’s bathroom, bolted into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down and started sobbing.

I’m in love with her.

She choked on her own snot, and ripped off a piece of toilet paper to blow her nose.

I’m in love with her, and she hates me.

She let out a wail.

i’m in love with her, she hates me, and I failed her.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sarah?”

Sarah held her breath, pulled her knees up to her chest to avoid making any noise.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” Sarah heard April, a gentle voice amongst the madness.

Sarah heard a pager beep.

“Ugh, I have a heart transplant. Whatever, send a note to Dr. Charles and let him know I was looking for her.”

She wants to yell at me some more. She wants to hurt me. She somehow knows about me and I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired and be all alone. She knows about me and she’s going to hurt me and I’m going to get fired.

They left, and Sarah let out her breath and let her feet fall to the floor. She blew her nose again, and took a deep, shaking breath. She stood up, and leaned her forehead against the stall door. She took her hair down from it’s low ponytail, and shook it out. She grabbed a piece of her hair and started absentmindedly braiding it - an old anxious habit.

A few minutes and three braids later, she opened the stall door and stared into the mirror in front of her. She wiped away her tears, approached the sink, and splashed water on her face, soaking one of her messy braids in the process. She dried with a thin paper towel, took another shaky, deep breath. She grabbed a helping of hand sanitizer on her way out of the bathroom. Force of habit. Even leaving her bedroom at home she sometimes tries to push the sanitizer button, even though it isn’t there.

Sarah practically ran to Dr. Charles’s office, hurriedly taking her braids out and running her hands through her tangled hair.

She unlocked Dr. Charles’s office door with her key, and closed the door behind her. She did not turn the lights on. Instead, she made a beeline for the couch. There was a throw blanket stored under one of the cushions, and she pulled it over her after grabbing it. She covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Sarah?”

She forcefully uncovered her face, before relaxing once she saw it was just Daniel.

“Sarah,” He inquired, sitting down at his desk, “What happened today?”

Sarah sniffled, “I misdiagnosed a heart attack as a panic attack,” She choked out, “Mid-30s male presenting with shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, anxiety, healthy weight, vegetarian, panicking with a history of social anxiety, currently experiencing work-related stress, no family history of heart disease, nothing.”

Dr. Charles sighed, “Common mistake. Hardly something to have a-”

“He died, Dr. Charles,” She cried, “He’s dead.”

Dr. Charles’s face hardened, “I see,” He faltered.

“And- And Ava, God, Ava…” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “She yelled at me in the middle of the ED, and she said I was incompetent and-” She choked out a sob, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Sarah,” Dr. Charles’s tone softened, “She’s just… She’s just angry. She won’t be angry forever.”

“I just really messed up today,” Sarah swiped her tears away with trembling hands.

“You did,” Dr. Charles agreed, “You did mess up today, but-”

“I’m going to get sued-”

“Sarah.”

“I’m going to lose my residency and I don’t have a fallback plan, I’m in so much debt and so much trouble-”

“Sarah, you’re not going to lose your residency,” Dr. Charles yelled, and Sarah fell silent. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you’re not going to lose your residency. Every single doctor has a misdiagnosis in their career, it’s just part of the job.”

“But he died. And it’s my fault.”

“Sarah, you are going to lose patients. And sometimes it’s going to be your fault,” He reasoned, “You’re a good doctor, Sarah, you’re a good doctor who made a mistake. You want to know what happened during my residency? I diagnosed a teenage girl experiencing vomiting and lack of appetite with bulimia,” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah, “She died of malnutrition. Autopsy showed she had ulcers all along her digestive tract,” He shrugged, “She was in too much pain to eat! But all I saw was a sickly thin teenage girl that was vomiting and couldn’t eat.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“The point is, things happen. Death happens. Sometimes, conditions disguise as one another. Medicine is hardly ever an exact science,” Dr. Charles pointed out, “Human error is expected, you’re not going to get fired, and you’re probably not going to get sued. Mr. Nearling presented with no typical risk factors of a heart attack, and all the typical risk factors and symptoms of a panic attack. Did you purposefully ignore Mr. Nearling’s heart attack?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Boom,” Dr. Charles threw his hands up in front of him, “You had no malicious intent. You made a mistake, a common mistake, on a patient that didn’t present typically, and it had consequences.”

Sarah nodded.

Dr. Charles sighed, and looked at Sarah with a look of sympathy, “And now it will never happen again, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re going to take complaints with these symptoms more seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a bad doctor, Sarah, you’re just a human,” He said, “In med school they always teach you what someone who has a heart attack looks like, just like they taught me what someone who has an eating disorder looks like. You just have to learn to get past that phenotype and look deeper.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“Look... This is hard. I get it,” Dr. Charles sighed, “Just... go home, Sarah. Take a breather.”

“What?”

“Go home. Come back in a few days. Take a break.”

“Yes sir,” She said, quietly, before standing up to leave.

(A/N) thanks for reading :) i’m going to build on this at some point and write a follow-up to this one shot. hope you enjoyed! this is a foundation for the parts i want to write, so it doesn’t have too much about sarah’s actual transition. i am so sorry for making ava be mean :(( EDIT: If you liked this, check this out bc I am continuing it!

#chicago med #one shot #chicago med one shot #sarah reese #writing #also my favorite sarah headcanon is that she still has to hum or sing stayin alive to do cpr #she has no natural rhythm without a guide lol #thats okay #transfemme!sarah #my au #angst #mild angst #dr charles #dr charles comforting sarah reese #dr charles is a good father figure #crockettstiddies

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masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

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I’m still processing and unpacking Ted and Rebecca’s relationships with their fathers and what I’ll say on it because it’s a lot. Not just literally, but contextually and emotionally.

And there was a brief conversation about how Rebecca’s issue isn’t as serious as Ted’s (I suppose), but as a person who has compartmentalize a lot of fucking trauma and is STILL working through it, this isn’t the trauma Olympics.

My own situations have taught me to be more emphatic, kinder, and open to people and their experiences whether or not the severity of our traumas are alike. Because you don’t make deep connections simply because you have similar traumas, you make deep connections by finding the ways you do relate, sympathizing, and being there for others even when you can’t relate.

Although Rebecca’s trauma doesn’t seem as severe as Ted’s, it’s more traumatic than some people realize. Uncovering one of their parents’ infidelity puts a child in a situation they should never be in. And I’ll unpack all of that in a later post. I cannot personally relate to that, but having read a few stories about this in the last year or so, yeah…it does a number on kids. So just because it isn’t that doesn’t mean it isn’t a major thing or less than.

Regardless, the crazy thing to me is that when Rebecca and Ted share their stories with one another, because we manifest in this household (seriously, my sister and her husband treat manifestation like a religion), does anyone think Ted will be like, “Well, your situation isn’t as fucked up as mine…”

No.

Ted’s heart will break for Rebecca not just because that’s who he is, but because he’ll get it. Her father betrayed her in a different way, but it’s still betrayal. Some will understand what I mean by betrayal and those who don’t, certain actions from a parent can result in a lot of complicated feelings in a child. Whether or not it’s logical, it feels like a betrayal to the kid and it’s valid when unpacking and examining the situation. Because it’s not always about fault, but relationships, expectations, what a parent owes a child, etc.

Using myself as an example because I often get personal when talking about very specific things, idea, relationships, etc.

Both of my parents are deceased, but I’ll focus on my mom.

She died of complications from diabetes. This wasn’t unexpected or sudden, it was accurately predicted by my older sister. I vividly remember every significant moment and conversations regardless of how they may have appeared in the moment. I remember being parked in my car at the mall and my sister flat out saying, “She has one to five years of she keeps up like this.”

She literally died over a year later.

I remember begging her the previous year to do better because she was our only living parent, and then breaking down and crying because I knew she wasn’t going to listen.

Months before she died, my other two siblings literally told me that they’d prepared themselves for her death and I should too. Although she was “fine”, we all knew better. She looked fine, but internally she wasn’t.

I remember her joking with a friend the week before she died that she’d rather die than eat beans. She was in a rehab center at the time re-learning how to walk as a result from complications of her diabetes.

At any moment she could’ve changed her situation, but she didn’t.

I was so fucking angry at her because she was supposed to be here and she could’ve been. She controlled her circumstances up until the bitter end. And I couldn’t deal with that because my dad didn’t have any control over his circumstances.

I felt angry, betrayed, helpless and on and on and on.

To make matters worse she almost died 10 years to the day of my dad who both passed away less than a month before my birthday (I also happened to be 16 when he died). :/

Of course I wish I had more time with him and when I watch Rebecca grieve and process her complicated emotions and how she internalizes that, I relate to that. Not literally, but I get what it’s like to have these complicated emotions you don’t know how to deal with. I know what it’s like to have an unresolved relationship with a parent even though it was unintentional on both our ends. Because it’s not about focusing on the differences, it’s about focusing on the similarities and finding compassion for other people. It’s realizing that her father didn’t just betray her mom, he betrayed her as well and in turn he tainted her relationship with her mom.

It’s about how his decisions impacted her and forever changed her in ways she still doesn’t realize.

And you know what, Ted will get that too. They will bond over their anger, resentment, and betrayal that they felt. They will give each other perspective and comfort each other and support each other. They will also remind each other of the good times they shared with their dads (ted already had with Rebecca) because grief, anger, loss, and all those complicated emotions are fluid things. They don’t have to be one to one to be valid or matter.

I watched this last episode and was just fine after it was over, but you know what was triggering as hell for me?

People diminishing one loss/one trauma in comparison to the other because it wasn’t that.

“It’s just not the same!”

And it doesn’t have to be.

It doesn’t.

But their pain is still valid.

You guys need to be careful how you speak about things because y’all don’t know who’s reading it, what they’ve been through, and how they internalize this shit.

People could be going through some real fucking trauma and need help, but “it’s not as serious as that so I shouldn’t reach out. There are people out there with ‘real’ problems.” Because this happens all the fucking time. Certain people do not take their issues seriously because they’re constantly told that if it isn’t perceived as some big thing, it’s not valid. Meanwhile they’re hurting on the inside and don’t realize how much and have poor mental health.

Last point, I don’t think some people realize that writers are pulling from what they know and are having long discussions about these things. It’s been noted that this writers room either has significant (personal) experience with therapy and mental health and/or they’re handling it well. It’s entirely likely that they’re also pulling from their own situations and are having honest, realistic conversations about how two people connect over different traumas.

Remember that line from wandavision “what is grief if not love preserving?” I can’t remember who the writer said that was about or if she specified at all, but she pulled that from her own experience, her own grief.

So before we try to get into trauma Olympics, we need to take a step back and get some perspective on why we don’t take “x” as seriously as “y.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso discussion #ted lasso spoilers #maybe that’s why I was a bit irked in a particular conversation #I couldn’t pin point why #but it’s like why can’t she be traumatized by this thing and it be valid???

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ryanthedemiboy · 3 years

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This morning, my family's dog, Scruffy, died. He was 13, born in January 2008. We brought him home in March 2008, with his brother Sammy. They're cairn terriers, Scruffy has a black coat, and Sammy has a blond-ish coat.

They made the 2500 mile journey to our new home with us in late 2008. We had doggy seatbelts for them and everything.

He didn't like toys, but he loved food. Any and every kind of food. His favourite foods were pizza crust, carrots, and candy corn. Seriously, he and his brother dug up candy corn from where he'd hid it several times over the years. I was going to have my dad get some today to give to him.

He had diabetes, valley fever, and cushings syndrome. Not that he let that stop him.

He was a cuddlebug and loved having his butt rubbed almost more than he loved food.

Yesterday and the day before, he got pizza crust, and he loved it so much. Last night he had chicken enchiladas and loved that, too.

He didn't like blueberries or applesauce, though he loved potato and apple peels. He also loved milk, especially cereal milk.

He was a fat boy most of his life, and he was always incredibly lazy, to the point of hilarity.

When we were trying to teach him to sit, he'd plop down on his belly instead. The only time he's ever sat for us is when he'd beg for food. He'd sit so pretty and Look at us. Never had to whine, just Look.

His favourite place to nap was my dad's face when my dad was napping. I'm not exaggerating. I have no idea how my dad was ever able to breathe like that.

Scruffy was always underfoot when anyone was in the kitchen, in the hopes that we'd drop some of our food. It was a problem every single evening, especially.

He was very bad at hiding stuff. Like, we'd give him a treat that takes a while to eat, and he'd hide it in his favourite couch, and then never touch it again unless we took it out (it was often half out of the couch) and put it in front of him.

He was so gentle, you could be giving him a tiny piece of candy corn from your hand, and he wouldn't hurt you because he would so gently take it from your hand. You'd feel him, his teeth would touch you, but it wouldn't come anywhere close to hurting you.

I'll add more to this as i remember things, but i wanted you all to know what a good boy he was. The kindest, gentlest, laziest best boy.

He was the biggest in his litter, and Sammy was the runt. When we first got them, Sam was always the dominant one. But the last four or five years, it's been Scruffy. He stopped taking Sam's shit xD

Scruffy was definitely ready to go, and we knew it was coming. He hadn't been eating, and we thought it was a toothache.

Then he stopped taking his meds, so his valley fever got bad again. And when we got bloodwork done a few days ago, we found out his kidneys and liver were failing.

We knew it was coming. If we were really lucky, we'd have maybe got a month. We had days, but we Knew.

Now you know what a good boy Scruffy was, though, so i'll end the post lol

Here's some photos of him:

#animal death #long post #undescribed #bc i'm an asshole

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kimikitty96 · 4 years

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Goodbye Letter to my Eating Disorder

It’s been hard. The past 3 years were so difficult, I’m surprised I haven’t completely lost myself. From having relationship problems, to deaths in my family (my brother and kitty died), to being sexually assaulted in the gym, to almost losing my mom this past year...suffice it to say, it’s been rather difficult.

I turned to my old “friend”, Edward. We “met” when I was 8 years old, and lost touch when I started working at 21 years old. Or, at least I thought we lost touch; he just put on a mask. But here he was again. He was there for me when I was struggling the most. No one else understood my pain the way he did, and no one numbed me like he did. He gave me the drive and motivation to get out of bed and to go to the gym; he kept me from faltering on my diet and turn to comfort eating; he continued to cheer me on when I made mistakes and would tell me to keep going. When I have injuries, he’d tell me that my initial weight loss was not due to me exercising, but my eating habits and to not worry, I can still continue! When I got sexually assaulted at my gym, he said to me that I never have to go back to that gym, and that I can go anywhere else to get my “Brazilian Booty”. He suggested I take a trip to Vegas and just enjoy myself, then come back and get serious.

He comforted me when my fiance would reject me, saying if I listened to him, I won’t need my fiance because I’d be able to attract the guy I really wanted, that all I needed was a little push. When my kitty passed away, Edward allowed me to grieve and to celebrate her life by going to a buffet and enjoying seafood, on one condition: I had to make sure that I was right back on track by making sure that I would “let my body rest” from food for a couple of days.

Last July (2019), I went into PHP because I knew something was seriously wrong. Edward was no longer helping me. His voice grew louder in my head, and what used to be gentle nudging became more forceful, more frustrated. Here was his evolution:

-”Oh, you want carbs? Well, that’s okay! You can have carbs and use it as energy for the gym when doing cardio/lower body workout tomorrow! Just make sure you lower your fat intake, okay?”

-”Yes! There’s a food festival! Make sure you get your 10k steps before you go, okay? We’ll eat everything we want, just like those fitness people do on YouTube! You’ve earned it!”

-”Oh, you gained weight...again. I mean...maybe you should lower your calories again. You’re eating a bit more than you’re supposed to, so just make sure your weekly calories are where they’re supposed to be.”

-”Lord, you failed an exam??? Okay, you need to hit the gym harder so you can focus better.”

-”[Fiance] refused to touch you again? It’s been a month since the last time? Why do you even want him to touch you at this point? You should just think about that guy who molested you at the gym, since that’s all you can get at this point.”

“You failed another exam? Jesus christ, you need to focus harder. You’ll never finish community college and get into [#1 dream school] if you continue like this! But if you let your body rest from food, you’ll have mental clarity and will remember your course material better.”

-”Oh, fiance said no to you again. You really need to stop having these “cheat days” or “cheat meals”. He’s getting more and more grossed out by you every day.”

-“Why can’t you just stop eating the junk foods you’re eating? You were able to do it before. You’re so stupid, you can’t even get this right. You know what? I’m going to test your willpower. Go out and buy junk food, and stare at it and say no!”

-”See, he’s flirting with so many other women at his work. This is why he won’t touch you. You’re stupid and ugly; you’re worth nothing unless you are at the top of your class, and weigh less than [UGW]!”

-”Why can’t you stop eating?!?! Why do you have the willpower of a drug addict?! You’re nothing! Get rid of that! You don’t deserve your meal! GET RID OF IT NOW!”

-”JESUS CHRIST, YOU ARE FUCKING STUPID! IT’S YOUR FAULT YOUR FIANCE DON’T WANT YOU! YOU’RE WORTH LESS THAN NOTHING! YOU DESERVED BEING GROPED AT THE GYM BECAUSE THAT IS YOUR WORTH!”

-”See? You failed a class you already took! This is how stupid and [ableist expletive] you are. You can’t even do that shit right. YOU ARE NOTHING. YOU HAVE NEGATIVE WORTH.”

-”Your brother died because he had diabetes. Your mother almost died because of diabetes. They couldn’t control; the shit they put in their mouths, and you will end up with the same fate because your dumb ass can’t even say no to a chip.”

-”Oh, you lost another friend? That’s because you’re a piece of shit. You’ve always been a piece of shit. You deserve to be alone. No one should be subjected to the bullshit that is you. You should just KYS.”

-”No, you can’t have that! You can’t touch food unless I say so! I don’t care that it’s been a week!”

-”No don’t touch food! It’s all poison! It’s going to kill you! Look what it did to your mom and brother! You’re gonna lose your dad too because all food is poison! DON’T TOUCH ANY FOODSTUFFS!!!”

*Me, fainting, at home alone, because I haven’t eaten in a week and my heart rate is in the low 50′s*

-”Why are you being an attention whore? Stop your bitch ass whining and go pee.”

*My response* “Bitch, there’s no one here! Who am I being an attention whore to, my cats?!”

-”Yes! Now stop being a whiny bitch and go pee!”

-”Why are you still here? Why aren’t you doing everyone on this earth a favor and disappear. No one would miss you. They’re not even thinking of you right now. No one misses you now. Everyone is just pretending to like you because they feel sorry for you. They actually really hate you. Just disappear. They don’t want you around anyway.”

-”Leave. Disappear. No one wants you. Just take [redacted], and go to sleep.”

Edward was not helping me. He made it seem like he was, but he wasn’t. He entered my life during a time when I was vulnerable and made me believe he would be my redemption. He knew me; he knew what was best for me. He could make me better/stronger/more beautiful/more desirable/smarter; all I had to do was listen.

That’s not who he is. He is a monster. He’s worse than that; he is pure evil that nothing and no one should ever allowed in. He took what I give him, and it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Once I did what he told me to do, he tells me to go farther because while it’s good, I can do better; I can be better. He destroyed everything I touch and turned it against me so that I couldn’t rely on anyone but him. He isolated me and introduced me to his partner-in-crime, Shame. The more Edward spoke, the more Shame consumed.

When I thought Edward was giving me drive and motivation to go workout so I could improve myself, in reality, he was telling me my body was grotesque and that I needed to punish myself because I mistreated my body. When he tried to keep me from faltering on my diet, he was telling me I shouldn’t eat [xyz] so I can be healthy, when in reality, he was encouraging me to binge/purge/restrict/fast, causing heart palpitations, unstable-low blood pressure, gastrointestinal distress, brain fog, increased bouts of depression, and severe low self esteem; instead of being healthy, he made me extremely unhealthy. When he continued to cheer me on whenever I injured myself due to too much physical exertion and would tell me to “reign my diet in”, the reality was that he caused these injuries by telling me that I had to keep going no matter how hard I trained, that I couldn’t eat enough calories so I could heal and recover, and that even though I was injured, I couldn’t rest and had to continue to exercise. When I got sexually assaulted at my gym, he graciously allowed me to transfer gyms and continue to workout and ignore my mental health when in reality...he wanted to keep me mentally weak so that I would continue to rely on him because he made clothes fit better.

He made it so clothes can fit better; clothes I bought, that I wasn’t allowed to wear, because my body wasn’t where he wanted it to be, therefore I didn’t deserve to wear them yet.

The past few months have been the most difficult out of the 3 years I’d been struggling; COVID, finishing school and transferring to uni, cheating on my fiance, my mom almost dying (twice), and really delving deep inside me to come to terms with everything I went through and being completely honest with myself...I never want to go through that again. But I am extremely grateful I did, because I saw who Edward really was. I saw him for the toxic, vile, awful evil entity he always was, and now I get to say goodbye.

To Edward:

Thank you for who you were when you back into my life (again). Thank you for helping me cope with my issues, and for keeping my head afloat; you did the best you could, given the circumstances you had. I was broken, hurt, lost, and saw nothing good in me. You showed me that I can be better, and that I can do better. I just have to push a little harder, and I’ll eventually get what I want.

You gave me something to hold on to in the beginning, and thankfully, I figured out your toxicity before it was too late for me. This is me telling you that I want to part ways. I know you’ll still be around, because you are my oldest “friend”, and I know you will do your very best to get me to succumb to your ways. But like you taught me, if I just have a little bit of willpower and a little bit of strength and perseverance, I can achieve what I want; that the only person stopping me is myself. I can either move forward, or sabotage myself once more; it was, and is, completely up to me, isn’t that right?

Thank you for the lessons you taught me. I will utilize them to fight you every single day of my life. Yes, I will have setbacks. Yes, I will falter. But like you taught me; if I falter, I need to keep going. What was it you used to tell me? If I miss a workout, or eat something I wasn’t supposed to, that I needed to work twice as hard the next day? That’s exactly what I’m going to do. If I let you in, I will tell myself that it’s okay to make a mistake, and that I can always turn my back on you whenever you appear. The only difference between your lesson and my OWN words is that I will forgive myself for allowing you back in.

I want to thank you for all the vitriolic words you’ve shouted at me. If it weren’t for that, I would’ve never seen the kindest words uttered to me by the ones who do love and care about me (yes, the people in my life love me despite your insistence that they don’t). I want to thank you for the discipline you’ve instilled upon me. If it weren’t for that, I would’ve never remembered the drive I have at succeeding at endeavors that mean a lot to me. And you know what means a lot to me?

I MEAN A LOT TO ME!

So I will work my hardest to make sure I fight you every single god damn day of my life, and in doing so, empower me to be the best me I can. And you know what it means to be the best me? It’s to be my most authentic and honest and forgiving self. I means I can finally love and appreciate me the way I love and appreciate everyone in my life.

This is my goodbye. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Kitty

#eating disorders #recovery #ed recovery #pro ana #promia #proana #proed #binging #ana #mia #anamia #anorexia #anorexa #bulimia #bulimea #can't stop won't stop #self love

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mottephobia-imagines · 4 years

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Ikemen Sengoku Mafia!AU (Oda Forces)

In case y’all didn’t know I also write for Otome (both Voltage and Cybird)

—

Oda Nobunaga: the leader

Absolutely a leader of a yakuza- and a good one at that too

(Assuming this takes place in modern day japan) runs one of the biggest Yakuza factions

On the outside though, he’s a very successful heir to a large, multimillion company (think Eisuke Ichinomiya from KBTBB I mean they’re practically the same person cmon)

Due to his seemingly inconspicuous ‘day job’ and charming personality making him very popular to the public eye, no one suspects him of being involved in any organized crime, so he’s able to operate very smoothly under the radar

Of course, he has spies every where- including in the government and police force so his tracks are very covered

Aims to take political power at some point and have his faction be the dominant faction (eliminating all possible rivals)

His biggest one being his enemy Kenshin Uesugi’s faction, who takes any and every opportunity they can to get under his nerves constantly lmao

Nobunaga and Kenshin have never seen each other face to face (if they did it’d be a blood bath), but still have an unspoken respect for each other as much as they hate each other lmao

The rivalry between their two families has lasted generations- now that it’s their turn, Nobunaga is determined to end it with the last laugh

Nobunaga’s still the same arrogant, cocky bastard he is, but 100x worse (as with modern technology)

Grew up with a very traditional family who were samurais in the past, so he’s had a lot of training in swordsmanship and martial arts

Always keeps a pistol in his jacket pocket and wears a bulletproof vest 90% of the time

(He’s not that good with guns tho)

On his desk there’s probably a little plateful of candies, and his fridge is also stocked with sweet things (it’s a wonder how he doesn’t have diabetes yet)

Also has a pocketful of tiny candies to last him throughout the day (much to Hideyoshi’s dismay)

Also, slicked back hair, suited up Nobunaga with a sleeve tattoo (he’d have to try really hard to keep his sleeve tattoo hidden but still just imagine)

Hideyoshi Toyotomi: the bodyguard

Hideyoshi is Nobunaga’s most trusted confidant, who also serves as his bodyguard

Wherever Nobunaga goes, Hideyoshi follows suit

More often than not the voice of reason

Always trusts his gut and is always skeptical of new members (or just people in general why won’t you trust me dammit)

He came from a poor family of farmers in the countryside, and when they couldn’t take care of him anymore they abandoned him

He was a thief for a little while, until Nobunaga’s dad took him in and raised him as his own

Hideyoshi deems this a debt he has to pay, and him helping Nobunaga and keeping him straight will repay the family’s kindness

He’s always the one to direct less major missions and cleans up the messes

Frequently in contact with Mistuhide, and he hates the guy (more like annoyed tbh)

He’s basically Nobunaga’s messenger lmao

And mother older brother figure, he frequently stops Nobunaga from rampaging over something insignificant and keeps him from being unhealthy by taking away his candies sometimes

Is better skilled with a gun, and thus carries not one, but two (those like shoulder straps for guns under his suit type of thing)

He goes undercover from time to time, although it’s not his specialty- he’s kind of a jack of all trades kinda guy

He’s really good at sussing out the spies and traitors, because he listens to his gut and it’s almost always right

Will do anything and everything to help Nobunaga succeed, even if it means killing anyone who stands in the way

Date Masamune: the affiliate

Masamune is actually the leader of another yakuza faction, but since it was so weak at the time he took the opportunity to pair up with Nobunaga

His faction deals more with drugs and weapons, smuggling them over borders and getting them out and in of the country

That being said, most of his deals take place at exclusive bars and clubs- where the richest of the rich gather

He’s a pretty laid-back guy for someone who runs a drug syndicate- he doesn’t really care how things get done as long as they get done somehow

Also pretty goofy- when people first meet him, they’d think that there was no way he was in the yakuza

Even though the sleeve tattoos and the eyepatch probably should’ve been enough for them to know

And the massive amount of jewelry, too- Masamune isn’t shy about his wealth like at all

He’s totally the type to wear those bigass rings, complete with sapphires on them just to show off a little more

He loves to piss off Nobunaga, he loves for it

Ieyasu tells him that it might get him killed (low key a worried bb) but Masamune knows Nobunaga isn’t gonna get rid of him anytime soon; due to the fact that Masamune’s faction gives a shit ton of money

Him and Ieyasu tolerate get along pretty well, although the latter may deny it

Out of all of them, he’s probably the strongest and most skilled combat-wise; he’s adept in martial arts, knives and blades, as well as having an extensive knowledge on firearms and even bombs and how to use them

Honestly, he’s with Nobunaga just for the power boost- ones his faction gets enough power, he’s gonna dip then come back and be like ‘sike u thought’

Masamune has the same aspiration as both Nobunaga and Kenshin, but knows he can’t fight them both at the same time. So why not let the two battle it out then fight the winner?

Akechi Mistuhide: the spy

Aka the rat

Mistuhide is a double agent working for Nobunaga, on his own terms

He’s a spy within the government’s police force, and nobody has caught him yet

Tells Nobunaga about any upcoming busts and when and where they’re gonna go, who they’re going to investigate and go after, basically all information on cases that may affect him

Very good at hiding his tracks- it’s almost impossible to get this guy

Also very good at swaying his coworkers and even bosses- tells them whether or not to pursue a case or person, acknowledge evidence, and even do something for him

He started out as an assassin for hire before becoming an informant for Nobunaga, which is the foundation for the distrust Hideyoshi has on him

Coupled with the fact that he’s easily a manipulative and cunning bastard, you’ve got someone who is a valuable asset but you can’t help but wonder when he’ll turn his back on you

He’s actually the son of a very rich man who had many wives and concubines; growing up, his father’s other wives would try to kill him using any tactic they could, so he developed quickly some skills that children shouldn’t have learned

He knows when food and drinks are poisoned, when someone is trying to ambush you, and when someone is lying- and this was before any formal training for an assassin

Because of his talent with blades and smaller guns, he’s the one Nobunaga sends out most of the time to kill someone and make it seem like an accident

Teams up with Masamune to annoy Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Ieyasu (sometimes)

He once went undercover with Hideyoshi- the teasing was unfiltered and hard. Hideyoshi kept yelling at him to please stop, we have a fuckinh mission to do and you making me flustered will not make this any less difficult.

He honestly just lives to see people annoyed/embarrassed lmao

Used to tease Ieyasu a lot before Masamune came and essentially replaced him

Mitsuhide’s reasons for joining Nobunaga’s faction still remains a mystery, and he’d like to keep it that way

Tokugawa Ieyasu: the doctor

Why is there no yellow

The underground doctor who works for Nobunaga, Ieyasu has plenty of knowledge and experience despite his young age

At first, you’d think he isn’t a doctor at all- he‘s rough, not exactly friendly, and easily irritated; which is exactly what makes him so good at his job

As an underground doctor, Ieyasu’s primary job is to salvage whatever unfortunate soul had been injured at the time- sometimes, it’d be much, much more than one person

He can’t afford to let his emotions get to him and slow him down, so he’s learned to repress his emotions and completely focus on his job instead

Also, he can’t be like a traditional doctor because he’s dealing with criminals here- and with his pretty face, not everyone’s gonna take him seriously if he offers the usual caring doctor attitude

Ieyasu grew up in a wealthy family before being kidnapped and sold in the black market as a child, abused within the system and eventually ended up in an old doctor’s hands

The old doctor would basically take him on as an apprentice and told him all his medical knowledge, urging him to follow in his footsteps before he died

When the doctor did die, Ieyasu continued his medical studies and attended several schools and universities before going off the grid completely

Years later he was found in a back alley market (think the black market from beastars) by non other than Nobunaga, who he saved from some thugs (or at least tried to)

Because of his work as a doctor, he often forgets to really take a rest and goes days without sleeping and living off spicy ramen noodles

It’s gotten so bad at one point that Masamune (who buys the noodles for him regularly) actually confiscated all of them and demanded Ieyasu be given a day off (he can’t have tease him if he’s dead!)

Speaking of Masamune, they met after the ‘eyepatch wearing idiot’ came into his clinic after a particularly grueling gun fight with the police

He’s kind of thankful for Masamune- Ieyasu would still have to deal with Mitsuhide and that guy gets on his nerves the quickest, if Masamune didn’t take his spot lmao

He has a little pet porcupine at home, and he sometimes sticks him in the chest pocket of his doctor’s coat whenever he knows he’s gonna spend days at his clinic

Don’t let his pretty looks fool you; mans learned many combat skills from Masamune including how to absolutely murder people with guns

Ishida Mitsunari: the hacker

From how sweet and kind he looks he definitely does not look like part of the Yakuza

Like, he looks like he belongs in a classroom teaching kids, not in a computer room hacking government files

Extremely skilled hacker- he can get any information from anywhere and leave no trace

Is the main source of information for Nobunaga

Mitsunari was the son of a college professor, and spent most of his time reading in the school library when his father took him to his lectures

Pretty soon he found himself loving computers and tinkering with them, eventually leading to him hacking some minor websites

Fat forward a couple of years and his curious nature doesn’t stop, leading to him discovering some secret files/tapes of Nobunaga’s faction

He left a clear enough trace that he was easily tracked down and almost killed; however, Nobunaga saw some potential in him and decided to give him a choice between dying or joining them (not much of a choice there buddy)

He joined in his late teens, so he’s never really experienced what life was like (thanks Nobunaga)

Nonetheless, he’s actually pretty terrifying when he’s angry

With his demeanor, you’d think he wouldn’t have a mean bone in his body- wrong

Being in the yakuza at a young age, he’s seen some shit and learned some shit- and he’s even tried some of them

Many people have spited him, thinking he’s a doormat

Mitsunari does not let that fly

People underestimate how much he can ruin their lives through the computer screen- financial ruin, a hard hit to reputations, etc

He rarely if ever does that though, most of the time he’d just brush it off and continue what he’s doing (unless it escalates then you’re fucked lmao Mitsudarki come thru)

Mitsunari’s really good with kids, so often times the higher ups or other members leave their kids or pets with him because even if he is booked for work, he still takes stellar care of them

Gets teased by Mitsuhide often, but doesn’t get what he’s saying most of the time

Is heavily opposed to killing- he’d much rather talk it through with someone or ruin their life rather than taking it

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Uggghhhhh this took so long but I love these little shits so it was worth it 😤😤 they’re so pretty wth-

#ikemen series #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen masamune #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen hideyoshi #mafia au #modern au #basically kbtbb but not lmaoooo #cybird #otome #ikesen headcanon #ikesen oda forces #oda forces

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