#I know I've talked about my mental and physical health issues before and I believe it's important to have these conversations

[hersweetrevenge]

corey commentary: the official making of h40 🎃🔪

honestly i feel like this book really helped me refocus my thoughts on corey and brought me back to basics for the first time in a while.

i've split this post into a few specific topics based on my own thoughts and the book details that i found most interesting. a lot of this i've talked about before but i'm bringing it back with evidence babyyy.

WARNING for suicide and suicidal ideation, murder, manipulation, mental health issues and crises, and passing mentions of child abuse.

costume

corey's costume was developed in reverse (pg. 176), starting with his final look, the leather jacketed bad boy, and working backwards to the opening scene look, the good boy on his way to the sock hop.

i love that this was the process, i think that's so interesting from both a design and character perspective. taking him from what he became to what he was? it feels sort of like they were centring nostalgia in a way, starting with who corey became and then looking back to who he was (and who he will never be again). it kind of makes his downfall even more heart-breaking to me.

rohan mention's wearing coreys clothes in his real life and how no one even looked at him (pg. 184). in the commentary he also mentioned wearing corey's glasses a lot to get into the character mindset.

very interesting that we have tried and tested proof that corey can literally fade into the background and go unnoticed. it must be a combination of trying to be visually more plain but also a very quiet demeanour. but then you have the angle of corey being forced to reduce himself to as small and quiet and invisible impossible. i like the way corey both wants to be invisible (to avoid confrontation) but also desperately wants to be seen and heard and believed and understood by someone.

frame of mind/suicidal ideation

rohan mentions that there's an element of corey having not been able to kill himself before, because it was too hard to do, but looking into michael's eyes he realises he can just "call it quits" and let michael do it. then, after he is spared by michael, it gives him "permission" (pg. 198)

i think it makes a lot of sense though that michael letting him go is what tips corey over the edge, maybe reinforcing his own buried guilt (if michael let him go, he must be evil, right?) and making it feel a lot easier to make horrific choices (murder) while also making his emergency exit plan (suicide) feel easier too, if he wanted to.

corey being "tainted" by the shape because he's so close to being that anyway (pg. 172).

i don't personally believe in evil as an actual supernatural force in these movies, but corey is definitlel portrayed as more susceptible to michael's influence, even if michael does actuall demand anything of him.

i think @/slutforstabbings was the one who mentioned this to me. but when corey meets michael he is mentally and physically more susceptible to reacting irrationally in a very real-world sense. he has a history of abuse, experienced a major trauma (the accident), been under intense stress (the party), and had a recent head injury (the fall from the bridge and smacking his head in the sewer). these factors all contribute to a mental health crisis and drastic change in personality.

i feel like this confirms that corey was likely headed for (possibly another) breakdown in the future, but the events of the party/meeting michael just triggers it sooner.

emotional control

rohan mentions corey purposely doesn't feel anything since the accident (pg. 188).

this might have been my favourite detail that gets mentioned. i've always thought that corey's way of surviving post-accident was to just shutdown completely and switch off all his emotions. it's interesting to know that rohan was playing him that way.

and also a lot of the time when corey does feel strong emotions, they are turned in on himself to try and keep them private, like his anger at terry results in him hurting himself (accidently) with the milk bottle, or him regularly climbing over the bannister at the allen house but not being able to let go while during the day he thinks about some outward expression of rage through the blowtorch at the garage.

the mirror scene symbolises the first time corey feels in control (pg. 198).

i've written about this a lot before, but i very much agree that the mirror scene is a moment of processing both "what the fuck just happened?" but also "this is what control feels like". corey's whole breakdown, starting from killing nelson, is about regaining control over his own life, even if it means un-restraining himself and doing horrific things.

killings

ryan turek (exec.) and paul logan (writer) specifically state how ends is essentially a revenge movie, with corey's kills start as revenge killings, but if he survived the kills would get more random (pg. 167).

i feel like this highlights the way that corey's connection with the shape is cut short, unlike michael who had it for decades. the shape (or the idea of it) lets corey get his revenge, but after that he could keep going, he'd pick up momentum and he wouldn't be slowing down.

this seems like this is pointing towards killing being corey's method of control rather than some more direct desire to kill.

he becomes "addicted" to violence and he knows it (pg. 191).

"addicted" is a super interesting word choice and i feel like it fits perfectly. corey starts with revenge, he has his reasons, but as time goes on he could find a reason for anyone if he wanted to.

if corey survived ends and got away, he'd be living his own life for the first time ever. i think there are a lot of things he'd over indulge in, and killing being an addiction plays heavily into that -- there would be nothing to tell him to stop.

high priest!corey

rohan specifically describes corey leading doug to the sewer as him bring michael a "sacrifice" (pg. 206).

vindication !! @/slutforstabbings once said to me, while we were talking about the ritualistic nature of corey and michael's relationship and killings, that corey replaces nelson as michael's high priest, as the person who brings the sacrifices and channels michael to the outside world.

manipulation

rohan says that corey "plays" at being the shaking little boy again when he jump scares laurie while waiting outside for allyson (pg. 204).

i love this, because i fully believe corey thrives on manipulation. i think corey is fundamentally a good person anyway, but in dealing with joan he knows how to make himself inoffensive and agreeable, and i think he knows that that "character" is a safe bet to keep people happy.

and the novelisation confirms that this almost works !! laurie thinks he's just awkward and still upset from the night before. the thing that makes laurie doubt how genuine he is, is that she can see how he changes -- she can see the way he switches from one demeanour to another. proof right that he can play at being who he needs to be in the moment.

but then, by the time laurie shoots him, corey really is just a scared little boy who is in way over his head and unequipped for the situation he finds himself in (pg. 226).

corey is unprepared and unpractised -- he doesn't have the experience that michael has in bouncing back. he isn't michael. he's fucked up big time, his plan has fallen through, and he's backed himself into a corner. all the terrible things he's done, everything he's been through, the taste of control -- it's all for nothing is laurie can get the upper hand on him like this.

he's scared and out of his depth but he's dangerous, but corey ends the film the same way he starts it, in a situation he has no control over and with only himself to blame. only this time he's having the last word, he's going to do what he could before and he's going to take laurie down with him.

relationships

rohan said ronald is "the loveliest thing" in corey's life, and that the gesture of giving the motorbike is "beautiful [but] manly and detached" (pg. 182), which is a way more sympathetic view than i have.

this is a wayyy more sympathetic view of their relationship than i have. i do like this angle though, the idea that corey and ronald did have some sort of relationship but that neither of them can express it very well, that they're taking the stereotypically masculine route of small gestures and not a lot of words. which seems at odds with what corey really needed from the only male role model in his life, but it's kinda sweet that corey must like ronald enough for him to be a good part of his life, rather than just neutral.

maybe the takes about ronald being a good stepdad aren't wrong 👀

corey falls for allyson most deeply when he sees how she is on the edge just as much as he is (pg. 215).

this made me wonder if allyson and corey could have ever been together without the events of the movies? if they still met by chance, would they get along? would the attraction still be there?

their relationship is based on parasocial affection and shared similar traumas, there's a certain emotional intensity there that translates to them making rash decisions and commitments that i don't think they would otherwise.

joan's last words (in an even more extended death scene) are begging "michael" not to hurt corey (pg. 222).

joanne baron has talked about joan's motivations and perspective in some interviews, so this scenes lines up very well with what she's said previously. joan has never treated corey like a person, he's an object for her to control, but her two moments of concern for him (when he comes home the morning after the party and her death scene) come from a seemingly natural and genuine place.

also, the biggest factor that made me loose my mind over this: she doesn't know it's corey killing her. she begs this masked murderer not to kill her son, not know that it is her son beneath the mask 💀

she's begging someone not to hurt corey after years of being the one who has hurt corey. it's too late to turn back, it was always going to end like this, but can you imagine what went through corey's mind in that moment? that his momma wanted him to be safe but never made him feel safe when she had the chance.

me whenever there is a direct quote from rohan in this book:

#corey cunningham #h40 #halloween ends #halloween movies #lets not count how many times my evidence consists of ''well rohan said'' 🤡 i have no backbone #he could tell me chuck e cheese had been appointed director of the fbi and i'd eat it up no questions asked #corey reminds me of girl inter/rupted when susanna talks about how killing herself became her go to solution -- #-- for any inconvenience. which makes the concept itself less serious and more easily doable #i dont think corey would do it even if he thinks about it but i think he liked having the thought there -- #-- that if he really had to then he has an emergency exit plan #also something i didnt include but need to put out there. it mentions that the motorbike ron gives corey is ?? corey's dads ?? #i feel like there might have been some miscommunication on that fact ?? or its true -- #-- and therefore the most important detail for lore/character/plot in this whole goddamn franchise

[mysticalibra1994]

Pokemon, Japan, and Neurodivergency

So, ever since I heard (recently) about Satoshi Tajiri having a special interest in collecting bugs (and is confirmed to have autism), this got my interest piqued for the new game(s) of Pokemon (mostly Violet for personal reasons). ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You see, ever since my diagnosis of ADHD as a little kid, it felt like I was the last person on Earth who had it. However, when she was alive, my mom was the only person who understood what I was going through during my struggles.

From before to middle school, I was medicated for it. But, ever since they increased the mg on it, I had my first dizzy spell in my middle school library. When I told my mom about it, she weaned me off of it. Ever since I lost her at age 12, it felt like someone hit a huge reset button and I had to start my life all over. High school wasn't easy with it, either. It felt like I only had one nice teacher; my History teacher. Of course, this may be a bias due to History being one of my favorite subjects (Art and Reading). But I believe that it's more than that, I had a teacher who never berated me for showing signs of ADHD.

Unfortunately, I had to change schools because the staff knew that I was struggling, but they didn't do anything to help. Of course, I've felt saddened having to say goodbyes to my friends, but what's done is done...

During my first enrollment in this new school, I was a little nervous and afraid that it would be a repeat... But it wasn't! I actually felt accepted! No, more than that. I felt normal without even trying... My own version of "normal". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Now, you may be wondering "What does this have anything to do with Pokemon Violet?". Well, it has something to do with the headcanons of the students being neurodivergent.

1.) Nemona - There are some headcanons of her being on the spectrum because battling is her hyperfixation and she simply wants to share it with the people she truly cares about. Also, she may have some physical therapy for her arm due to her brace/compression glove.

2.) Arven - "He's off in a flash, the second something new crosses his mind". Stop me if that sounds familiar... Also (depending on the version of the game), he has mother/father issues and his Pokemon/dog being sick/injured (and maybe at that age...), we could tell that he truly cares deeply for his emotional support Pokemon...

3.) Florian/Julianna - Since we're playing as these characters, who's to say that they're not as neurodivergent as us?

In fact, who's to say that Naranja/Uva University has the majority of neurodivergent students with understanding/supportive staff?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now for something serious...

In Japan, having an open and honest discussion of the importance of mental health is considered taboo. Instead, they have a store that sells syringe charm necklaces, pill capsule earrings, and T-shirts with words like "Sweet Death" or "Please, Help me!" in Kanji and pastel glitter. The main reason why they refuse to talk about it is to "save face" (or "to avoid embarrassment"). Think about how it was never easy to bring up our neurodivergencies to others...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With all of that set in mind, I believe that playing video games that have support characters with unspoken neurodivergent behaviors and main characters who fit into the "silent protagonist" trope is the only way for people like us (neurodivergent people who are afraid to ask for help due to personal reasons) to escape the harsh realities of the fact that we KNOW that the world isn't made for people like us.

#Pokemon Violet #The concept of the origin of Pokemon #Nemona #Arven #MCs #Florian #Julianna #Asking for help can be a challenge... #But you're never alone #rant/vent #A little bit of infodumping #tw: mental health #tw: mention of meds and syringes #tw: mention of death

[simplytheevebest]

Headcanon Time: Farah's Recovery (from the opinion of a non-doctor who did surface-level research and absolutely doesn't claim to know what she's talking about)

Considering how involved and concerned Terra was with Musa's magical recovery, I can only imagine how involved she'd be with Farah's. Musa gave up lost her magic but Farah was "dead" for an indeterminate amount of time(? I can't remember if it was said how long), came back as a force ghost trapped in a fern, and then had to recharge her magic and strength to regain her corporeal form (this is what happened, fight me canon).

But like, taking away the death-not-death magical aspect and just looking at a physical recovery, and setting aside that canonically Farah's body would've needed to be "regained" because I personally much prefer the headcanon that she rose from the grave, spirit and body intact, you can't just jump up from such a lengthy period of inactivity and be fine. It's been anywhere from a few months to a year since the events of season 1 (if season 1 took place during the winter semester and Rosalind took over for the spring semester it's been a few months; if we pick up during the new fall semester it's been about half a year). That's a long time not to be moving or working your brain (also depending on when she was found). Terra mentioned physical therapy for Musa concerning her wounds, and I personally know people who have had surgeries and recovered from horrible injuries and had to relearn how to walk, talk, eat, etc. So I definitely subscribe to the idea that Farah will need this too.

Combining my love of angsty realism and the magic of Fate, Farah has a long road of recovery ahead of her and she's never going to be just as she was before. Like even if you injure yourself in some smaller way, it can impact your health years into the future. I almost broke my toe over a decade ago and to this day it aches in the rain and humidity. Farah's likely already got scars from serving under Rosalind, which isn't going to help her recovery from literally dying either. So right out of the gate she's probably definitely going to have to regain motor function and she's highly likely to need to regain mental strength as well. And realistically there are other world doctors who would step in to properly assess but that sounds exhausting so instead, Ben and Terra are in charge of Farah's recovery and Terra is absolutely going to make sure Farah sticks to it because lord knows Farah won't be diligent. Yet she'll be impatient and frustrated at herself for not being able to walk short distances without her legs shaking or running out of breath, or being unable to pin up her hair because her arms can't support themselves. She might struggle to get her fingers to cooperate to write, or muddle words and phrases in her head and be unable to coherently express them. She won't be able to teach a class, or go on walks, or maybe even eat without assistance at first. She won't be able to do paperwork, or speak her thoughts clearly, or write down what she wants to say if she can't speak it.

There's a whole host of other things that could impact her: impaired motor function, nerve damage, brain damage, crush syndrome, respiratory issues, cardiac issues, seizures, numbness, organ failure, paralysis, etc. Like I've never been buried alive so I can't speak from experience nor do I know anyone that has, but just imagining, magic aside, that she was essentially in a coma underground for a week at least definitely means she's not coming out unscathed. And considering the magic would've saved her from the worst of it (the irreparable life-threatening complications like necrosis or organ failure) I still choose to believe she's going to have to relearn some skills and rebuild her strength because even if she remembers how to walk, she might not have the muscle strength to do so.

Which of course opens the door for so many angsty hurt/comfort fics (and I have read some excellent ones that are escaping me, forgive me) of the teens convincing Farah to take it easy on herself because they love and care about her, or Saul helping Farah with her hair after she tearfully concedes she needs the help. Because Farah is strong and proud and she won't want to admit weakness even when she has so many to support her. And sure, perhaps her recovery isn't that extensive, it depends on your interpretation of her injuries, but these are just a few examples of ways she could be impacted.

And then there's her magic. She's a mind fairy, so if her mind itself is healing there's no way she's going to have total control over her powers from the get-go. Which means intrusive thoughts and feelings of others in her head without being able to block them out, accidental projecting onto others, headaches, and that's just the mind. Farah is also a master of the other magics, so now we're considering random lights going on and off or exploding, liquids boiling over or freezing solid. Plants growing out of control, random flying objects from her haywire telekinesis. We had a glimpse into out of control magic when the Winx channeled it into the stone and forgot to cut it off. Farah is unfathomably more powerful than them, so her magic going off the cuff is problematic and potentially dangerous.

The magic is what's going to get to Farah the most, I think, because so much of her identity is rooted in being the powerful fairy she is, and especially because of Rosalind's influence. With her magic being so uncontrollable, she's going to suggest that the runic limiters be put on herself, and there's not a single person who will agree to that. Farah is going to have to practice what she preaches and be patient and kind with her own magic rehabilitation just as she is with her students. And I think Stella would be an excellent candidate for this, because she's benefited from Farah's teachings the most. And for all of s2's faults, I really did love and enjoy the character development with Stella because she really came into her own this season and demonstrated, to me, the kind of queen she will be, which according to her positive feelings towards Farah in the prequel, is likely very much influenced by Farah. So to have Stella directly involved in helping rehabilitate Farah's magic as Farah did for her is, I think, a great little parallel moment.

Again, I'm not a doctor, nor do I possess any reliable medical knowledge beyond my obsession with medical dramas, which is to say I have no clue what is and is not something that could be a side effect of being comatose and buried alive while also spreading your life force into the plants around you. But this is a show about fairies and magic so I'm allowing myself a bit of slack with accuracy here, because it's become my personal headcanon that Farah required physical, mental, and magical therapy after her nap and it was a long, slow process hindered by her own impatience and final confrontation with Rosalind, in which she was definitely not up to full power and probably would've died for real if, say, Bloom hadn't stepped in to vaporize Rosalind to save her headmistress. I'm just drawn to the idea of Farah's recovery having that ounce of realism that means she doesn't just wake up and go about like it's a normal day. Let her injuries be real and life changing as is the case for so many people, and let her have the support and love of others to rely on. No quick fix. But that's just me.

#eve best #fate the winx saga #ftws #fate winx saga #fate: the winx saga #farah dowling #long post #fate headcanons

[callsign-bunnie]

Welcome back. I have a question, are you going to continue the 52 Letters to Simon Riley. Or are you just done with that?

The thing is that I really wanted to. I really did.

I know that I have a few fics that I've left unfinished, I do. Trust me, no one feels more frustrated with it than I do. I want to continue all of them and I likely will continue to post chapters for them. I'm working on the next chapter of Slasher Fieldtrip, rn.

After about a half a year, I am just exhausted. I try not to actually talk in depth about my mental health issues super publically, though I've indulged in what was formerly my discord server and I'll open up to individuals. I know I've made memes and sort of touched on it here and there, too.

However, I think it's time. I've said it before but the main three things that are constantly kicking my ass are OCD, BPD, and autism. I have physical health issues, too, like PCOS, POTS, and potential fibromyalgia, though my mother would like to lead me towards lyme disease. I am also having to put together the resources to very immanently get assessed for GERDS and a neurological issue.

I have dyslexia as well.

For the past year, since about February, I think, I have been in a constant cycle of episodes triggered by my BPD or OCD, depressive episodes, then right back to the first. When I would post frequently would be when I was likely psychotic. The worst of this was definitely February to March before I started to take weed regularly, which really helped with my episodes.

I call them psychotic episodes because that's always been how they've been described to me by, admittedly, non-professionals, but I am starting to understand that that's likely not fully what they are. As always, I'm willing to talk about it more, if asked.

I want to sort of fully document this last year. However, if you're not interested in that and you want a short answer: I don't know. I would like to keep writing 52 Letters, I really would. I have plans to return to it, I do plan to finish it, too, but for now, it's very much up in the air.

However, the long explanation is down below.

--

TW: Talks of psychosis, self harm, delusions, suicide, and paranoia

So, about December of 2021, my wife and I made the decision to move to Texas. I don't really regret that, actually I'm not one to regret much, but it very much was a bad idea. We lived in an area that was very high with industrial factories and being around chemicals all the time are just not a great idea. I'm not a crunchy person, I don't believe all chemicals are bad, but my wife and I were physically and mentally super ill the entire year.

During this year, I couldn't go outside if the temp was above 90 F (This was Texas, a reminder.) My wife and I fought constantly, and I was having severe delusions. All the way from seeing ghosts, to being convinced that people were in love with me, to being convinced they were plotting my death. My wife also had very frequent episodes. Her mental health is not mine to talk about, but it was bad. I did have a therapist around this time, but I was too scared to open up about my delusions and so I suffered in silence. I did not tell anyone about my delusions because when I do, I always get the same reaction. I have told people who are in the field of mental health who have openly judged me and told me that it's bad, so I just don't, anymore.

As such, it was a fairly miserable year.

We moved back December of 2022, which is when I would get into COD, obvis. At this point, I had two books that I was actively writing that I literally dropped to start writing fanfiction. I had a lot of fun, I loved it. I would also make a discord server which was fun... at first. I don't really blame anyone else, for the record. A few people and I definitely bumped heads for quite a few reasons and I'm very sorry for that.

However, this discord server kind of took over as a source of my main mental health issues. See, BPD on it's own is shitty. OCD is worse. Together is a fresh new hell. Most of my OCD symptoms feed into or are fed by my BPD, which makes them worse. Triggers for BPD can very quickly spiral me down into episodes of OCD where I am just off the walls.

I have had to very quickly learn that making friends is not something I am adept at or even really able to do right now. However, I will admit that I was partially "manic" (being used as I have no idea what else to call it) all the way from December to February. I'm talking total god complex, I can't die mentality. I was having auditory hallucinations, I wasn't eating so I was sick all of the time (hypoglycemia and POTS), and the only thing fueling me was the positive feedback of fics. I would write things I wasn't happy with just to post them. I wrote two Ghostsoap fics that I just hated because I knew Ghostsoap was popular.

Writing things that I enjoyed just became a chore because I, unfortunately, have fairly niche interests. I understand that and I know that. I tried to spin things into what I enjoyed, too, but it just never seemed to get traction. I wanted to make these big AUs and focus on them and while the actual writing seemed to do just fine, it felt like none of the fun side parts did, which was what I enjoyed most. I love writing, don't get me wrong, I really do. But I also just love... creating. I love talking to people and discussing ideas and getting feedback and giving it. But... no one wanted that, which is fine, I'm not saying that's bad. However, it triggered me. It triggered me really bad.

Through no one else's fault, it felt like I had became the little kid on the playground again, just trying to get people to talk to me and want to be around me. I'm sure a lot of you understand that feeling, it's soul crushing.

Eventually, this and events on the server (again, no one else's fault) sent me into a full-blown spiral until February rolls around and I am not doing well. I'm sleeping and eating less, I'm also having severe financial issues as well. My wife and I are fighting again and the cherry on the cake was my mother not inviting me to her birthday outing. I will be honest, I remember very little from February to May. I remember that I tried getting a job, which didn't pan out for... obvious reasons. I remember that my brother ended up getting kicked out and moved in with me. I remember my birthday was awful. (To anyone who went out of their way to send me a birthday ask/comment/reblog, I thank you so much, you will never truly understand exactly what they meant to me during the worst birthday of my life.)

In May, my wife turned 21 and so she starts to buy weed, which really started to help. Obviously, weed isn't a fix all but it broke the severe episode that I was going through, which really helped. Even now, it's helped a lot. However, it identified an issue;

I was only writing so much because I was severely ill. I know that it likely was noticed but this is when my writing drops from a chapter every day to being lucky to get 3-4 a week. I think I started to drop fics left and right and I also think this is when I really slowed down my ask box. I think I also started to burn the fuck out really bad around this time, as well.

On top of all of this, I was starting to have severe issues with a friend. I will not talk about this because I do not want to make it public, but these issues really sucked. I also started to have issues with my family, again, and with the weed easing my more psychotic side (again, called psychotic by others, not me), I didn't have anything to combat the depression. All I could do, half the time, when I got overwhelmed, was to just lay down and not do anything or get on the game and play COD.

Something else that is relevant is I hate people. But I hate them in the same way someone with rabies hates water. I don't want to hate people, I really don't. It's part of my mental illness, but it makes it so hard to interact with people. I have no patience, ever, my brother and wife can atest to that. My brain is constantly going and so I have about 50 things I'm constantly thinking of and so when others can't keep up, it just frustrates me. I swear to god, I don't want to be like this. I hate myself, I don't want to constantly snap at people and get so frustrated I start crying because of a bad round on COD, but it's what happens. I didn't want to keep hurting people, though, so I started to isolate myself around, I think, August. I think this is also when my posts started to be less and less fun. I made less and less tweets, I wouldn't just chat with people, because I was so scared of being awful.

On top of this all, I started to notice a pattern in my comment section. Now, I will likely talk about my feelings on this in a separate post, but I really think reading comprehension has taken a decline. I'm sympathetic to it, I am, but I believe it whole-heartedly has. I noticed that, in certain fics, Alejandro would be severely demonized in ways that Ghost was exempt from. Soap would have allowances made for things that Roach would be torn apart for. I would explicitly state that none of my characters are EVER reliable because I approach fics from a place of "realism" (meant in the way that the realism art style is meant), where I want to be hyper-realistic with the way they approach things. This meant that they often didn't have all of the facts.

So, to see people jump to ripping Alejandro and Roach to shreds for the smallest things, or ignore what I was attempting to use for Soap's character development and dismiss everything he does wrong made writing unfun. I stopped writing Soap as a main character and switched to Roach, even stopped including Soap at all in most fics. Old Habits Die Hard was actually going to end with Ghost "meeting" Roach, again, and reconciling with Soap through Roach and I just didn't want to. I really just didn't.

I stopped giving Alejandro any trait that wasn't purely being a simp because if I didn't, everything he did was immediately demonized.

I don't know if it was noticed, because I know it's not big enough to be noticed, but I also stopped replying to most comments because I had to just stop reading them. Thank you to everyone who still continued to comment on my fics, I really do love you guys.

Also, I started to get really frustrated with the COD fandom in general. The rampant MLM fetishization (I mean that word with my entire chest), covert sexism, EXPLICIT sexism, among other issues started to get to me. Something that I never would have guessed in a million years would make me feel dread was opening up about my SEXUAL PREFERENCES. I am a bottom. I have never felt shame or nervousness out of sharing this, despite jokes, because it's just a sexual preference. I'm versatile between Dom and Sub pretty split down the middle, but I am mostly a bottom when I can be. The way that bottoms get treated in fandom culture makes me nauseous and COD was no exception. I'm open to trying to have a conversation about the nuances of sexual preference, but for now I'm going to move on. It's such a stupid issue, too, because I shouldn't have to be explaining why making characters bottoms just to oversexualize/feminize them is fucking weird, but here I am.

So, that pushed me further and further into troubles posting. At some point, I get so sick of Tiktok that I delete it, and I fully stop attempting to read fics on AO3. (Unrelated but still relevant.)

I have more and more friend issues, my family issues get even worse, and then we reach September/November (a bit of a twofer.) By this point, I am exhausted. The one thing that had been keeping me going was headcanon asks, and those just stop. All of my requests for them receive nothing (I AM NOT BLAMING ANYONE), my non-writing posts just get nothing so I didn't have those for a quick hit of dopamine, and I think this is honestly where I crashed on fandom stuff.

I didn't want to keep writing. I'll admit that. I was done. I started to drop fics even more, I started to post them and then I would delete them, I would send myself asks for things I really wanted to write or had already written and then would just never answer the ask, among other things. On top of all of this, everything just started to feel meaningless. My delusions came back, full force, but without the energy to do anything. Nothing I wrote seemed to matter. My life lost all meaning that I still have not managed to get back.

In my personal life, a family member that I have been very close with since I was a baby revealed themselves to be homophobic. I raised their daughter, she used to call me mom, and now I am not allowed to see her. Baby fever hit me hard, too, and it made me realize that I do want a child, I desperately want a child, but I cannot have one. I'm infertile, for one, and so not mentally capable. So, infertility trauma that I had been forcing myself not to confront slammed directly into me. I became so depressed that I think I considered suicide as an option once a day at a point. I attempted multiple times. My self harm addiction spiralled out of control, too, and I'm slowly getting a handle on it, again. But... I think it's safe to say I became miserable.

I don't even remember December. I don't remember any of it. However, I do know that around that point, a severe brain fog set in. There are few ways to clear it, but it feels like my brain is constantly swimming in a vat of acid. It doesn't hurt but it's hard to see, it's hard to think. My best friend can attribute to this, as he was the first one to point out the difference. If my VODs from Twitch were still available, you can HEAR a difference. Before the brain fog, I had no problem articulating myself. Now, I have to pause every five seconds to regather my thoughts. I have never ever known what brain silence feels like, until now, because my brain is constantly going empty and I just can't fucking think. I am also barely sleeping and eating EVEN LESS than I was before, due to financial struggles. I get overwhelmed and overstimulated so easy.

My bsf also has pointed out to me, multiple times, that I will start a sentence and just lose it halfway through. I have started rants with one topic in mind and end up on a completely different topic because I will crash and reboot halfway through. I will cry for no reason, or struggle to cry when I should. I don't know what has happened, but it's scary as hell. I can't go out in public, alone, anymore, because I will get disoriented and start to wander off, or I just will blank out when people are talking to me. My wife has had conversations with me where I just go dead silent mid sentence and then continue again.

This is the main reason I have not been posting, lately.

So, early in January, I decided to pivot to my books. I want to publish and make writing a career, so I decided this is the year to try. Granted, it's not working out very well. I'd love to keep writing fanfiction and I think I'm going to try to restructure into something smaller and a bit less of a strain on me.

I am working on another fic that I don't plan to post until I'm done with it, which is for Alerudy, that I've been very slowly chipping at. As I said, I'm actively writing the next chapter for Slasher Fieldtrip, and I plan to eventually pop out another set of chapters for Grace and Patience.

But I am so tired. I am so exhausted. Neither of us owe each other anything. You don't owe me attention, you do not owe me patience. I do not owe you writing and I do not owe you effort. But I would like to ask for patience if I can give you effort. I don't want you guys to feel pity for me, I'm not asking for that. I am just asking you guys to keep in mind that I am a person and to believe me when I tell you guys that I am going through hell right now. I've said it before that COD cannot be the safe place for me that it is for others, but I still would like this account to be, at least.

I'm sorry that I can't keep living up to the expectations that I set back in December of 2022. Trust me, I look at everything I was doing and I want to scream and cry because I so badly wish I could go back to that. I'm so sorry for that.

If I go weeks without updating, it's because I don't know what day it is, let alone when I'm supposed to post. If I drop a fic out of nowhere, it's because the strain of writing it was more than I could handle.

52 Letters To Simon Riley is a severe angst piece, its handling grief and issues I wasn't even aware I was hiding from. It's heavy and I was irresponsible for thinking it wasn't, and I'm sorry. I want to keep writing it, I have so many ideas, but I also worry about them. I'd like to pivot a focus onto Ghost and Dean, I want to do more with Gaz, but I worry that's not what people want to read.

I have privated it, in a private collective, for now. I will un-private it when I feel like I can go back to investing in a semi-regular posting schedule for it.

I know this post may come across as whining and I'm sorry for that, too. I don't want any of you to think I'm whining or blaming anyone. There are specific people who have contributed to my issues, but they were not doing it, intentionally, and so I blame no one. I do plan to one day return to therapy but I can hardly afford to eat right now, let alone pay for a therapist.

In the meantime, I want to talk more about my books and I want to show more of my art and just try to be a bit more multi-faceted in what I post. I'm still very much into COD, and I will try to post more silly/fun things that aren't necessarily writing for it. Headcanons, tweets, chats, etc.

Thank you for reading through last year. The experience that I've gained from writing over 1.5 million words has been so invaluable. It has made me feel genuinely qualified to write a book, now.

Thank you.

#bunnie speaks

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

About Lauren's Last Podcast

This is a post I really wanted to write because I've been asked a lot about it because of everything Lauren said on that podcast.

And I wanted to start by saying that Moonchild's words cleared up a couple of doubts about his family. She said that her father was born in the United States and that her mother was born in Cuba, when I thought they were both born in the United States.

I'm not going to elaborate on what she said about her mental health because most of us already know a little about what that trip has been like, but I'm going to get some details from there.

One of the things that stood out to me about that topic is that Lauren talks about mental health, not only because she had to learn to deal with her own mental health issues, but she also talks about it in a way that you feel that she has had to learn it, not only to know herself, but also to know and understand a person who apart from dealing with anxiety, also has to deal with an OCD that was diagnosed late in her life. And yes, I'm talking about Camila.

And with that, I'll answer the anons who asked me what Lauren said about being in an emotionally abusive relationship with someone.

She mentioned that she had that relationship between the ages of nineteen and twenty. If we do the math, those dates were between 2015 and 2016. And yes, when the Laucy PR was developed.

But... I do believe that that had nothing to do with Laucy. Lauren had problems with Lucy? That is not a lie and we all know it, but no. That PR had nothing to do with all of this.

I do think that that emotionally abusive relationship that Lauren had was with Camila because at that time Camila had to deal not only with her anxiety, but also with her OCD that developed around that time (If it wasn't for that time, I hope someone clarifies that detail for me so I don't screw up) and was never treated. That combined with Lauren's own traumas, well I imagine it must not have been easy at all and less so in an environment as toxic as the industry where they didn't even take care of the girls.

That, added to the fact that at that time they also had to get Camila out of the band and create the fucking feud and everything we already know. And if they had to take that step and separate to heal, well they did excellent folks. I support them in that.

Lauren has come a long way from healing and it is very important that she is well and stays well. Because you know that if they had to separate at that time, it was not for lack of love, but rather the opposite. Our girls loved each other enough to know that they couldn't go on in a circle and someone had to cut it to heal and come back when they were well.

Always Love, remember?

And so that's what I have to say about that. I will not answer any more questions related to that topic

Another thing that she said on the subject of mental health is that someone helped her. Lauren mentioned a her but no names and I feel like it could have been Dina Lapolt but I can't say for sure.

Another detail she mentioned about her TXF audition was that it all happened before her birthday and she got the call to bootcamp in June, so most likely the girls had met before when Lauren was fifteen and Camila was fourteen. This part just confirms the post that @fa-by made about The light in the end of the tunnel.

One thing that Lauren said and also caught my attention because I fully share it with her. Lauren said that she hated feeling weak. Me too. My life since I was born was surrounded by physical weakness, so I had to learn the hard way to be strong, emotionally and mentally and I have achieved it but only halfway. After everything I've heard Lauren say about mental health, I know I have to go back to therapy and I will, eventually.

A funny part of what Lauren said about her TXF audition was that her dad brought her in for the experience and it wasn't going to be easy and she was like, oh ok, I'm going to be one in a million. Or million to one and I remembered

🤭🤭🤭

Because that was true in the end 🤷🏾‍♀️

The other thing she said and I'm done with this is that Lauren wants to be a mom. I think at this point we all know how motherly she is and how beautiful she would be as a mom and carrying her little chicken everywhere. ❤

It was a beautiful podcast. I still have to listen her podcast on Patreon but I will do it tomorrow.

#lauren jauregui #podcast #camila cabello #mental health #5H #personal thoughts #Spotify

[wishmasters-muse]

I don't talk too much about DID on here... but I need to talk to you guys. It would mean a lot if you listen.

I... we are a system. A system that has been active since I was about 6. Starting with trauma blocking, leading right up to servere amnesia and memory loss for my entire childhood. DID became our life. Not my life... our. To simply admit being plural is soo hard. It feels wrong even now, years after my diagnosis. I know some of my alters, some have "gone quiet", sometimes there's a split that I don't find out about until months later... there is soo much to this.

There are fictives in this system too. I believe fictives are real but from my experience I have only ever encountered alters who have taken influence from other things. I,e a name or a style from a character or person. I've never experienced animal, God, fictional non human character alters. We simply... don't have any. My own opinion as to whether they exist is not strong enough to give either way.

BUT...

If there is one opinion I need to express, it's this..

ENDO SYSTEMS SHOULDNT BE WELCOMED INTO D.I.D SPACES.

Before you shit down my neck for saying that... listen.

About half a year ago I reached out. Finally more aware of my system and feeling more stable as the host, when fronting I was looking to seek advice, help others and be more active within the community. I couldn't have made a worse mistake. Prior to this I had no knowledge of an "endo system". I went on subreddits, chat rooms, groups, pages, all to try and understand more systems, learn more about my own and to be help to others.

Instead, I was met with Endo systems. People claiming I was "lucky to have trauma", people saying they just woke up with a collective of fictional characters as alters and a stream of information that not only contradicted my experience but invalidated it. I fought back. I do still fight back when I can but... one thing I hear every damn time is "well you're just ablist."

People that know me irl or have talked to me extensively to the point that they understand or know my traumas and my diagnosis know otherwise. I know otherwise. But the fact that endo systems have made a feat out of invalidating a "traumagenic" system, showing jealousy to the years of psychological, physical, emotional, sexual and financial abuse I've suffered... left me feeling nauseous. All so these systems can feel what? Special? Different? Like a minority of their own?

I refuse to be complicit to that ideology. Im seeing others that suffer with this being hurt and driven to suicidal thoughts because of these people that have taken over what were supposed to be safe spaces.

I will always be here for those who suffer with trauma and have developed extensive mental health issues because of them. I sympathise and empathise with you. I'll always support you.

But endos... no. I refuse to watch that toxicity infect safe spaces and make the rest of us the "lucky ones". The "ablist assholes." The "trauma sympathisers" (derogatory). Its a human right to have a safe space. How dare you feel entitled enough to shame us and alienate for the things we have suffered and continue to suffer with.

I don't spend every day hoping to remember good things, be terrified of certain dissociating experiences, reliving those traumatic experiences, to be torn away from what safety I have.

#did #did system #actually did #did awareness #did positivity #anti endogenic #anti endo #mental health awareness #mental health #did community

[that-gay-jedi]

I wish to fuck that "I don't understand you but I still respect you and believe you and will treat you as the primary authority on your own experiences, including taking whatever actions are reasonably within my power to accommodate and/or help you regardless of whether I personally think it's weird" was more of a thing. Most people aren't going to understand shit-all about me and instead of demanding I teach them it would be so cool to just be allowed to live my life in peace.

Yes this post is about everything you might think it's about (gender, neurodivergence, OCD, health/mobility issues at a youngish age etc etc etc) but it's also about like a bajillion other things too. Most people are never going to understand some of the more personal filters through which I experience the world, and the only contexts I'm likely to feel like explaining them are gonna be when I'm chilling with one or more of my besties or talking about fiction and fanfiction & analysis thereof.

Like. My bio family will never grasp how I've been neurotically wrestling Fate for 20+ years but they shouldn't need to in order to stop concern trolling in ways that basically call down a divine curse on me bc it's not going to physically or mentally hurt them to stop concern trolling regardless of the reason.

They wouldn't actually need to know what negative impact it has on my psyche in order to grasp that it does have a negative impact. Cis people shouldn't make being able to imagine what it's like to have dysphoria a prerequisite to, like, not requiring a legal name change document before changing your display name in the office Slack. I will never, ever, truly know what it's like to encounter racism as a direct target, but I still know to take an anti-racist stand when I see shit happening. Etc.

It should be so fucking simple but so many people use "But I don't understand!" as an excuse not to do the right thing and most of society appears to have decided that's a valid excuse and a get-out-of-expectations-free card and people will continue to use it unless and until we make it no longer feasible/convenient to do so.

[d0wnp0uringstorm]

...

Ok... lets go some things straight. For the past 3-4 years I have been facing thousands of allegations and have been attacked online and in person way to much. I'd like to say that I'm honestly getting tired of it and personally think It needs to stop... So lets get straight into this...

First off let me explain some of my back story. For several years I have been dealing with clinical depression and have been down a really dark path which lead me to go to a mental health hospital back in fifth grade. I got out after about 2 months of being there and was ok for a little while until about half way through 6th grade. I had been in a relationship for about a year when things happened and the relationship ended. I was in a really tight spot and battled with my emotions for the rest of the year. During the summer between 6th and 7th grade my family allowed to let a man move in with us that physically and mentally tormented me. This lasted for a while behind my parents back but every time I tried to say anything my parents didnt believe me. It continued to happen until one day the guy slipped up and did it right in front of my parents causing him to get kicked out... Then 7th grade hit... heh 7th grade. Back in 7th grade I came out as trans publicly. This lead to many problems and me being a huge target (I still am) through out the whole middle school. I tried my hardest to get around everything but this caused me to go down a really dark path which continued into 8th. 8th grade was the worst year there. I had been falsely accused of many things like pedophilia, being homophobic and transphobic and many other things. I was not only hacked that year but my whole survival server had been destroyed... I also lost a whole bunch of friends I thought I could trust that year. It brought back many trust issues and stuff like that. That year I was also physically attacked on numerous occasions including an incident in the restroom I would rather not get into... I had come out to my parents a few months before 8th and the only person who really shows any support is my mother which is very little. I was called many slurs everyday... towards the end of 8th grade my mother went through a surgery that almost killed her which would have made it so that Id live with only my stepfather. I love him yes but we dont get along very well and just being us would put a lot of weight on my shoulders. 8th grade was also the year that I suffered to the point where I started doing s/h... I was told that I was faking being scuicidal and that I should really just end it... I attempted ending it which left me in the hospital for about a week and a half... I came back to still be dealing with the same stuff. My never ending nightmare. After 8th grade graduation I spent the summer mainly gathering my thoughts and not streaming or uploading much. Most of my uploads were to tiktok which is where I know almost have 1k followers. Im now in my 9th grade year and shits getting worse. I have been having bad thoughts and they are starting to get really loud... I mainly stick around for the people that actually care and I have been living off the bare minimum to keep my body functional. I have been losing a lot more friends recently, most due to arguments and stabbing me in the back and a few from suicide... I have been struggling quite a bit and being a constant target isnt helping. I feel like I'm running out of space to breathe and a little to close to the edge of the blade. Im running of the few people who bring me joy. Normally on empty I shuffle through the day. At this point I've killed myself but no one knows that your not talking to me, your talking to a scarecrow. Now I live on a razors edge about to slip. And these things are whats got me close.

[kpdeek]

Personal (PCOS)

I've been meaning to write a KP fanfic since before the show ended, I've had inspiration stirring nonstop since EP1. I thought with the amount of free time I'd have this Summer this would be something fun to put my time and energy into, a project I can utilize everything I've learned from all the wonderful people I've interacted with on here in one way or another, but July has officially become the month of declining health for me.

I literally never used to see my doctor, I never had reason to. And suddenly I'm seeing 3-4.

It's a bunch of minor things piled on each other to create one BIG thing, but the main concern weighing on me is that I apparently have PCOS. And one particularly large cyst on my right ovary has been a real burden. It feels like constant cramping near my right pelvis, throbbing, bloating, heavy. I'm trying to go about my days as normal as possible as I monitor this thing (because it's supposed to go away on its own. & if it doesn't, then I'll need a minor surgery to get it out). But the discomfort is so constant it's all I'm ever dialed in to. I can't enjoy the vacations I'm going on, or just day to day activities.

It's not an agonizing pain, more like a dull pain. After doing a lot of research and educating myself on PCOS and related issues (to the point I drove myself into a panic attack in the middle of a family road trip 🙃), I realize that the stage I'm currently in is nothing compared to how bad this might be (or get), so I'm trying not to psych myself out too much. And yet, I've cried for three nights straight.

The mind is a strange thing. On the one hand, I know this is relatively common with people who ovulate, and what I'm experiencing isn't anything deemed too serious. In fact, it's pretty normal. On the other hand, I can't believe I'm spending the one summer I chose not to work doctor hopping instead (and not in the fun sense), and that I might need to get surgery for the first time in my life.

If this is a normal cyst (just a bit too big for my doctors' liking), then the 'surgery' isn't anything too complex. But I still need to run a few more tests (while waiting to see if the darned thing will clear up on its own) before I even know if it's worth removing, or what it even contains. (Don't search up images of a teratoma. Just...dont).

In the meantime, my brain is supplying me with all the helpful (sarcastic) things I've learned throughout all this. Namely, if it shrinks, I'm good! If it doesn't, teeny tiny incisions to get it removed. And if the bitch grows, or spreads, or turns out to be endometriosis, this is God or the universe's karmic retribution for all the times I've said "I don't like kids" or "I don't want kids", & I might say bye bye to one or both of my ovaries soon, and the option to have kids will become difficult, or be taken away from me altogether.

You see how my brain turns something that isn't anything yet and freaks me the fuck out? This was me for three hours until I finally broke down on hour 4 of said road trip.

Anyway, I'm trying to process everything it is and might be, driving myself crazy as I do. I don't want to be pessimistic, but at the same time I know I shouldn't be too optimistic. I've talked to close friends and family about it, I am thinking a lot about it, and the next step is to write about it, because that's how I've always processed things and ultimately comforts me more than my circle's generic words of encouragement (though I know they mean well & aren't intentionally trying to downplay the physical & mental toll this has taken on me. And honestly, I think the mental is exacerbating the physical).

I'm still going to write that KP fanfic, dammit!!! but as I write primarily for myself, I'm not going to put a specific time frame on it. I'm just gonna go about it as I'm comfortable.

Ummm...yeah, so this isn't intended for people to feel bad for me, or share my story, or whatever. I'm not even exactly sure how bad this thing is, or if my overthinking is getting overdramatic. Sometimes I just feel better after releasing everything I've got pent up into the void, as if I'm finally letting go of a bit of what's burdening me so I can care about it a little less. But if anyone else has or is going through something similar and would like to share their experience, I'd love to hear from you. It'll be cool to connect with others who get what I'm going thru.

#pcos #ovarian cysts #personal

[countesspetofi]

Too late to make a long story short

So, yeah. I planned on posting this last June, but I never got around to it because I was going through some health problems that had me pretty drained both physically and emotionally. And I'm actually getting around to it pretty late in life, for reasons which I'll briefly discuss further down.

This is my official coming out. I've tried to talk about it with my mother, but I don't think she really completely gets it, and I didn't want to push her. It's not that I don't think she'd be supportive - she absolutely would - but I just haven't got the mental energy.

I'm the IA that so often gets left off the end of LGBTQIA+. That is, Intersex and Asexual. And although I haven't deliberately tried to hide it (and for all I know, people may have guessed and just never mentioned it), there are a few reasons why I've never made this sort of open declaration before.

Firstly, I can't deny that I have a great deal of passing privilege that has made my life easier. I was AFAB and still identify as female. I wasn't born with ambiguous genitalia or subjected to lies and/or "corrective" surgery as a minor. There are plenty of other circumstances in my life, like poverty and disability, which people were free to assume were the reason I've never been in a long-term romantic relationship. I'm neither aro nor sex-repulsed, so I've never made an effort to stay out of conversations about celebrity crushes or the aesthetics of the human form. (Although, like a lot of ace folk of my generation, I grew up totally believing most people were really like me and just put on a show of being sex-obsessed because the media told hem they should be.) Now that so many married friends my age are divorced, my single state isn't even as as uncommon as it used to be. In addition, I'm a bit of a coward. I've seen other ace women have to deal with "jokes" and thinly veiled threats about "corrective r*pe," and as a survivor of childhood SA I was a bit panicky about having those directed at me, even if only online.

Secondly, I didn't discover my intersex condition or the terminology to describe my asexuality until adulthood. It was helpful TO ME to be able to understand myself though those lenses, but I wasn't so sure it made much of a difference to anybody else. I've been called attention-seeking for discussing my disabilities, medical issues, childhood experiences with abuse, etc., and it felt like I'd be inviting more of the same.

Thirdly, I know that some very outspoken people exist, both inside and outside the queer community, who don't think intersex or asexual people are "queer enough" to be included. I've heard everything from "It's only the LGBT that really count" to "How can you expect us to remember two more letters?" to "those things are about what you're NOT and not what you ARE." And I really don't take rejection well.

So, why have I decided to go ahead and "officially" come out? The past few years have seen some real threats against the progress we've made just in my lifetime. If there's one thing living in this century has taught me, it's that you can never sit back and take progress for granted. I'm having trouble finding the exact quote and its source, but somebody said something to me recently about democracy being to fragile to be left unattended, and it really stuck with me. I may only be one person, but I think I can probably be more useful if I stand up to be counted. I don't know, maybe I can't do anything more than I could when presenting as a straight ally, but if even one person takes what I say more seriously because they know where I'm coming from, and that I'm talking about my own experiences, I think it's worth it.

Anyway, here are my lame attempts to combine the intersex and ace flags. I've never been ashamed of what I am, but it does feel nice to openly show a bit of pride.

#lgbtqia+ #pride #pride 2022 #intersex #asexuality #asexual #ace #queer community

[annieintheaair]

Don't worry about the damage done, just let those words roll off your tongue, even if you're lying

How you are raised has a huge effect on your life as an adult. I think my parents raised my siblings and me to be good, caring, respectful people. I know we aren't perfect but I know my parents did a good job.

Looking back on my life, and my childhood in particular, I have somewhat vague memories of going to therapy. I learned that you need to talk about things. I've never seen therapy as a bad thing but as a part of life, like going for yearly physicals, getting your teeth cleaned, or even just taking vitamins and living a healthy lifestyle. I've taken breaks from therapy, sometimes for months and sometimes for years but then I get back into going and it feels more like a preventative measure for me. Therapy has taught me a lot of things, like how to cope with different feelings and changes in my life.

When I was in middle school, my best friend, Laura, and I used to talk to our guidance counselor often. She taught us about "I statements" and we learned how to build a better friendship. Even though we had our issues, it was always nice to know that I had a friend who cared about our friendship as much as I did and was always willing to work on things. We stayed friends for a long time until we both moved away and went to separate schools. I learned a lot from that friendship though.

After middle school, I spent high school journaling more. I didn't have a guidance counselor to talk to anymore like I did in middle school and I remember plenty of days feeling alone in my new school and crying in my bedroom at night. I knew from the very beginning of my freshman year of high school that I would only be there for three years before going to college. I was determined and I made it happen.

I started seeing a therapist in college. I think it was during sophomore year. Maureen was my saving grace. When I felt abandoned and sad or had issues with Dan, Maureen was there. One session, she had me write down on paper a list of things I could do whenever I was sad. Some of those things included Rhode Island-specific things, such as go to the beach. She made a copy of my list and shrunk it down to the size of a credit card so that I could keep it in my wallet. I remember one day driving to school during my junior/senior year (they were combined because I finished college in 3 years, too) and when I got close to school, I instead got onto 95 and drove myself to my favorite little beach: Goddard State Park.

I've always believed in self-care and your mental health is just as important as your physical health. I saw something on Instagram that said something along the lines of how when someone is going through something and they're feeling depressed, we should treat them like we would someone with a broken leg. Wouldn't you take care of that person and be there for them? Just like you'd care for someone else, you should care for yourself.

For me, when my flights got delayed last night, I knew that I wasn't in the right place mentally to handle rolling delays. My eyes burned and I told my mom that I wanted to call work and tell them that I had an eye problem and couldn't see myself going to work. I ended up calling out sick, taking a shower, putting on my pajamas, and crawling up under a blanket to watch a movie with my dogs and eat Ben & Jerry's. Maybe I don't have anything contagious because I'm not "sick" by the standard that the world sees sick but I think that your mental health is just as important and if you're just not in the right place mentally, it's ok to call off from work or school.

After college, I didn't have a therapist for a long time. When I got injured at work in 2018, I started seeing a new therapist, April. April helped me through my transition back to work and eventually helped me navigate my relationship and breakup with James. When she stopped accepting my insurance, I moved on and found Shanna. I liked her fresh perspective and appreciated her help as I transitioned to a new place. Since she stopped accepting my insurance in December, I thought I was ok and had "graduated" from therapy. I also felt like I was withholding a lot from her and acted like everything was fine during my sessions, only to go home and cry.

I met with a new therapist yesterday, Jose. I originally was looking for a new female therapist but then an appointment was available with him and I thought, why not try something new. Surprisingly, I really liked talking to him and scheduled to meet with him again next week.

I don't think there's any shame in going to therapy or accepting help. I think the strongest thing you can do sometimes is get help when you need it. I've been wanting to read the book "Maybe You Should Talk to Someone," which is a book about a therapist who seeks therapy herself. I've said it before but I think we all could use therapy.

I feel bad for the adults who grew up thinking therapy was something to be ashamed of and never learned to talk through things. I think it's a parent's responsibility to raise their kids in such a way that they know that it's ok to not be ok but to get help. When kids go through divorces or any sort of trauma, their parents should really send them to therapy. I've seen what happens to adults when they didn't have that kind of support when they were younger and now can't handle anything.

Since I didn't fly last night, I was able to make it to the 9:30am yoga class this morning. It was a struggle getting myself out of bed but I made it. The class was a bit of a disappointment and my energy was so down that I felt like everything was super difficult. By the time we were finishing up the class and in pigeon pose, with my face lying on my mat, I couldn't help but cry. I was so thankful for the cold lavender towels that made me look like less of a mess leaving yoga.

I wished the people in my class had been more social and that yoga could have been more of a community like it was where I used to live. I wished I could have asked everyone if anyone wanted to go grab brunch at First Watch after but I felt silly asking a bunch of strangers. Instead, I drove home, tearing up again, wishing for a hug.

At home, I prepared for my job interview, and while I think it went well, I feel like I have a lot going on right now, and trying to start a new job might be too much.

I feel like this has been a super lazy week with lots of TV and cuddles with my dogs. I managed to get in a nap this afternoon so that I can hopefully make it through work tonight. I was originally looking forward to flying with one of my friends tonight but of course, she's pregnant and not feeling great. I'm just praying for nice passengers tonight.

Despite the clouds this weekend, it's supposed to get into the 80s, which hopefully makes for a nice weekend. Maybe tomorrow I'll finally put my life back together at home.

xoxo

Annie

#Youtube

[psychosomatist]

Talking to my ED therapist today and she said that it can be hard when people get physically sick like this because we can't hide it from other people anymore. I'm really fucking sick and hiding it isn't working. I adopted a cat and she's younger than I thought with more energy and she is still in my room with me all the time and it makes it hard to sleep. I'm ashamed to ask for help socializing her but I know I need to. I'm in PHP all day.

Last night I went over to Julio's and just wanted for things to be normal and they more or less were. Better actually. It had been like a month since seeing him. We talked and joked a lot and he asked me how I'm really doing. He said it's like pulling teeth to get me to say how I really am sometimes and I said I'd be more honest. He said he'll be more open telling me things about himself. 4 months in and I've asked him about his writing before but he never told me he's written a fair amount of published articles and went to Puerto Rico in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria to interview people.

But yeah I was afraid we wouldn't have anything in common still or there would be nothing between us anymore but that didn't happen. Instead I just felt really close to him. We talked for a long time, joked a lot. I like that he and I can have real talk without it feeling touchy feely in a way I don't like. Its hard to explain. I think like... it doesn't feel like he "holds space" so much as that the space is there and he's in the same space. He said he doesn't judge me for having essentially done this to myself when I asked and said he gets it when it comes to mental health issues. Then later said that he doesn't want to talk to a therapist who's not fucked up and asked me when I'm finishing school. So that made me feel a lot better.

We had really good sex for a long time, mostly vanilla, which was probably best for me with health stuff rn. It was really sweet, he just did a lot for me and kissed me a lot. He is the best fucking kisser.

Idk I just like our dynamic a lot. He's the only partner I've had as an adult who really treats me like an equal and who I feel listens to me. He can call me pretty and stuff because I know he sees me as a guy, but he sees me as the kind of guy that I am, a boy not a man. And like even though I like to bottom he doesn't make me feel like shit or hurt me. I don't know I just feel respected and valued. And I don't have to pull punches with saying "dark" stuff and neither does he, we don't sit and wallow in it or spin out though.

But yeah he said he'll be here for me and that he cares about me deeply. I don't know why but I trust him about feelings stuff in a way I don't trust many. I think it's because he's never fazed by things. He just accepts it and handles his own feelings around it and listens and genuinely wants to know, and he doesn't make me feel different after talking about it. Not sure, he's just a good listener. I can be vulnerable with him and he still respects me after. Idk I'm just glad that he and I still connected bc I was afraid we wouldn't.

When I was actually honest with him I said that being in there fucked me up and I'm not really ok right now and really sick a lot of the time and angrier than I've been in a long time honestly.

But I also said sometimes things just fuck you up and that's true.

But seeing him made me feel a lot better about everything. He's just really comforting to me.

Anyway. I started writing this post from the bathroom floor at 1:30am after waking in the night and puking my guts out. I'm trying to think of something nice. I have refeeding syndrome which put me in the ER the other night. Couldn't keep anything down until about a half hour ago at 11am and that's only a couple sips of water. I slept on the bathroom floor so I could wake up and throw up, I felt too weak to move + moving makes me nauseous + didn't want to wake my housemates so I was in the bathroom in the basement.

I can't believe how bad recovery has been so far. It's worse than getting sober was. I didn't think it could be. I didn't think I'd get this sick.

I was/am afraid I'd have to go to the ER again. Two days ago I didn't get seen for 12 hours. I know they were busy, it just wasn't what I needed and in the grand scheme made me worse bc I skipped eating and drinking for most of 3pm-6am bc I was on the waiting room and out of it. I'm glad I went because I know my heart probably isn't gonna stop now and they gave me fluids. That's all they'd do this time too if i went and tbh I'm not even good to drive this time. Earlier it was really bad, I couldn't move without gagging. But I'm able to get some Gatorade down now too. I'm hoping that I can just try to keep drinking things and get my fluids up again. It's dangerous for me to be dehydrated right now. But going to the ER is a last resort. I'm hoping I can get a Zofran prescription, I've been trying to fucking get one. It's hard to try and navigate all this by myself, operating at reduced capacity. I keep forgetting important things.

***

Later- got a scrip from my old doctor for Zofran thank fuck. About to drink some ensure. Cheers.

[meaning-and-me]

10/12/23

Somehow managed to extract this week's discussion posts for school out of my brain. It's only two classes, but I haven't been able to do any kind of school work since mid 2020, when I finished up the classes I had enrolled in right before the pandemic. That was just two as well but was so much worse than this- even though now I'm literally actively in withdrawal. Stuff is crazy like that.

It would be easier to talk about this stuff if suffering could somehow be quantified more easily. And the baseline is always shifting. Add in measurements like the pain scale, and I think it is just impossible to accurately describe what any given day is like for a chronically ill person. We are all so different. I say this but then also- it is easy for me, and accurate for me, to say that things are better for me now than they were back in August. Or June. Or January, or a year ago. It even goes further than that though- I became unable to work from my physical illnesses in 2019, but was disabled by mental illness much longer prior.

The thing I am thinking about most right now is the benzodiazepine withdrawal, and that is what I get most wistful about. Mostly because it is easier to accept I mostly consented to the other medications, though once again informed consent was not perfect or emphasized to me. The problem with the benzo is they gave me a daily dose at 16. I take issue with this for two reasons: one, I was a minor. I do not think at that you can properly consent to a drug like that as a child (cue many moral arguments for and against). Secondly, it has been known for some time that benzodiazepines are not suitable for daily use due to the effects of dependency on the body. I can't cite that for you right now and if it was me reading this five years ago I would have fought you on that fact. But please do some digging.

I don't know the extent to which they really recognized that back in 2011-2012 when Ativan was prescribed to me, but I know that it has been known for a long time. And now that was over a decade ago. Surely at some point one of the 20+ doctors I have seen for chronic conditions, or psychiatrists, would have recognized that the drug was a problem. But it never happened. It would be briefly mentioned in our appointments maybe but no one wanted to deal with it. I was mentally stable which was a feat for me when you compared my adult mental health to how I was as a child, so no one messed with it.

I understand why it happened this way. I would have fought tooth and nail to stay on it because I too was terrified to mess with my status quo. But then back in January of 2023 I had a few conversations with people who had experienced benzodiazepine dependency, and it led me to Benzodiazepine Information Coalition. I started reading more about people's experiences on these meds, and the documented long term effects of dependency. It planted a seed for me, and here I am in October of 2023 in my fifth week off of Ativan.

Part of the purpose of this blog is because I strongly believe in the power of context. I believe in the complexity of every human's story, and maybe the older you get the harder it is to sum up. I can feel this as a turning point in my life- something wrapping up the last ten or twenty years maybe, and it's so much to process. It's so much to hold. I'd like to have some kind of record of this time even if it doesn't become a habit. And considering the level of fog I've been existing in for a very long time now it just feels like a luxury to be able to write about it at all. I'm so afraid to hope but that is what I survive on. I'm taking a more holistic approach these days to my health and also accepting that much of what I am going through right now feels like a massive leap of faith. Like I said in the last post, all I can do is try. I wasn't ready to do this for a long time and now the time is here!

One thing I said a lot when I was in the middle of my taper off of ativan and phenibut that might sound like total bullshit to some is how much of a blessing it feels like to be able to suffer in this way. And now I've reached the destination, but it's more like another leg of a triathlon haha.

[sometimesrosy]

Hello! Just saw the post you reblogged about reading, and I was already coming here to send you an ask about it. I LOVE reading. I enjoy it so much I lose myself in it and, if I’m really enjoying a book, I’ll stay up waaaay super late to read some more. But, I’m lazy to start reading. I’ll either read a book in a week or in 3 months, no matter how much I’m enjoying it, because I’ll do an “involuntary” break in the middle. I’ll be like “oh I really need to finish xxx book, I was liking it so much!” and proceed to not pick it up for a month. I make excuses sometimes, for example, I wear contact lenses and don’t have glasses, so I don’t read in bed because I can’t see. I’ve also talked myself into trying to believe that it’s ok to not read, because it means I chose to do something else. But sometimes that something else is staring at my phone. If I love reading so much, why don’t I do it more often? What can I do to change that? Thank you.

Hmm. That's an interesting problem to have. It's definitely solvable, if the only problem is you get distracted and lose focus.

I think I commented on that post that I definitely had a reading drought. It was anxiety that stopped me from reading.

And I didn't solve that reading issue until I found a genre that didn't exacerbate my anxiety. And it was historical romance! Which for me is fantastical enough to not be real life problems, and has a convention of requiring a happy ever after so I don't have to worry about the heroes I've invested in being destroyed in the end.

I also think that romance novels are often about healing more than causing trauma and I like that.

BUT if your problem isn't one of mental health, it might just be habits that you're struggling with.

It's easy to just scroll social media instead of reading. Or watch tv or streaming.

But you could actually replace some of that time in your schedule with reading. Whatever works for you. Half an hour during lunch to relax. Or on public transport if you do that. Before dinner... just don't turn on the tv. Or maybe end your streaming/tv watching an hour earlier than normal, and turn to reading instead. It's better for your sleep anyway.

You could also try reading short form material. Short stories. Novellas. Poetry. Essays. No one says you have to be reading huge long epic sagas and multi volume series.

Oh, also, some people REALLY love audio books. They're good for a commute or when you're doing something physical like crafts or cooking or jogging or whatever. Audio books count as books.

I have a solution to your reading in bed problem. A couple of solutions. I keep a pair of reading glasses by my bed. I bought a weird little triangle pillow to hold up my books, too. And my phone for scrolling if I'm honest. Sometimes I have them both on there, and I play candy crush while I'm reading. I don't know why it took me so long to realize that I have adhd. Sometimes I will have a fidget toy while I read. It actually helps me focus and keeps me from getting distracted. But to be honest, that could be one reason you stop reading and move on to something else.

Also, I read on a kindle paperwhite now. I have found this the best way to read at night. It is lit, so I don't need a lamp to read, and I can also switch it to night reading so it doesn't hurt my eyes. I can enlarge the text so that I can see it without struggling and it's easier to hold while in bed. Not to mention I can switch between books or when I finish I can get another one.

Books are the one thing I actually spend money on so I've built a library in my kindle, but you can also get ebooks through your library and kindleunlimited gives you access to a whole host of books for free... if you're an avid reader like I am.

I also like carrying my kindle with me so I can read whenever I have free time, like waiting on line or whenever. It fits in a pocket or my purse. Not to advertise for one of the evil empires (amazon) but I love my kindle. It makes reading physically easier in many situations.

HOWEVER. If you're having trouble reading, it is actually okay not to read. If you find it taxing. That's fine. If you can only read fanfic or graphic novels or audio books. They absolutely count as reading.

Allow yourself to do what you need to do for your needs. Give yourself a break on what you think you 'should' be doing. But if you really WANT to be reading, you might need to consciously make room for it in your schedule and routine.

I honestly have stopped watching tv and am reading my historical novels instead and I do not regret it.

#rosy answers #reading #reading habits #reading drought

[gritandfaith]

Fighting To Survive

This world, it's a mess. I never imagined that in my lifetime I would see the things I've seen come to pass, that I'd go through the things I've gone through.

This is just the beginning. We are so overwhelmed right now but this is just the beginning of what is coming.

Sometimes I look around me and question what I'll do when I'm all alone in this scary world, how will I survive this all alone?

Lately, I am so overwhelmed with sadness that it is consuming me more than I would normally allow. Whether it be that I'm just so mentally and physically exhausted or because my heart is breaking - I don't know.

I wish I could fix the world. That I could make all of this go away, but it doesn't work that way.

"Fear is not of God." I repeat that to myself so often. Fear has more power than we should allow it to have. If we could fully put our faith in God and rebuke fear then maybe we could overcome this.

I feel like I'm fighting a battle to survive. I don't mean health wise or physically - I mean mentally. I think we all feel like this right now, especially healthcare workers.

As someone that is on the frontline, seeing first hand what's happening: I can honestly say that I wish that I could do more. My everything still isn't enough to ease the suffering of the people right now.

We talk so much about this terrible pandemic but what people are not realizing is that we have another large issue as well. I can't count the people that has attempted suicide within the last few months. Some we have saved and cared for until they could go home but I can't help but wonder about the ones that weren't so lucky.

Something has happened lately. Depression, fear, sadness and anxiety has taken over - especially with the younger people. It makes me wonder if some spiritual entity is the cause of this, if Satan is trying to take as many as he can before Jesus comes back.

My opinion doesn't mean much. After all, I'm just one person in this huge world. However, I truly believe that the end is close. How could it not be? We are seeing so many signs, things are so bad. This world can't stand much more.

In the meantime, while I'm waiting I choose to help others. To set aside my heartbreak and help everyone that I possibly can. I choose to devote my life to making a difference and trying to help others see the light in the darkness.

We have to come together. Even if we all can't come together, then at least some of us has to. We have to fight to survive and to help others TOGETHER. We have to pray and allow God to guide us and be our shield that is protecting us from danger.

Will you join us in the fight? Are you ready to make a difference in this world? Are you ready to help the light shine in the darkness? I hope so, we need you.

#faith in jesus #jesussaves #stay prayed up #pray everyday #prayer #godislove #devotional

[grimreapest]

I used to like making art.

Or I must have, I'm pretty sure. I ended up in art school, after all. I was always the "art kid" in primary. I know now that it's a dangerous game, identifying your entire being with a single attribute. Because when you lose it, you feel like you're nothing anymore. You feel like you lost yourself.

The same happened to me with the "(academically) gited/smart kid" thing. I'm still destroying myself today just to keep up with that reputation. But at least I know it's a fairly common thing, it happens to people.

I'm a very introspective person. Most of my unsolved issues don't remain unsolved because I don't know they're there, I just don't know what to do about them. But losing art and being this distraught over it is something that I never saw coming.

I never heard people talking about it. There isn't any relatable content floating around the internet like there is for a billion of my other issues. My mental health must have deteriorated so quickly I lost the ability to make art before I could realise just how much it meant.

It was so long ago now. I don't remember enjoying art. All I know is I want to enjoy it. More than anything.

I see the world through an artist's eyes.

I was supposed to be an artist, I simply can't imagine otherwise. It's as if I was torn in half when I was created and an essential part of me is missing, a void that can never be filled. My mind is always full of ideas, begging to be turned into something more, something tangible...

But that's all they'll ever be. I'm like a person who wants nothing more than to be a singer but has the most terrible voice and a crippling fear of people's judgement.

I want to be an artist so bad. I see other people's beautiful art and my heart drops like it's flooding with lead, but shoots up to my throat to choke me regardless. I envy them. I want to yell at them for being luckier than me. I want to beat myself black and blue for not practising, for not forcing my way through the pain and clawing my way to where they get to be. I want to tear my lungs apart screaming about how unfair this is and how it isn't my fault, it's my brain, you couldn't do it either if you felt the same. And at the same time it's all my fault. I failed again. They deserve their success and I've done fuck all with my life. I'll never be what I so desperately crave.

And that's probably it I think, haha.

My one true pain. I'm worth nothing.

I know I've done good things. I know I've done impressive things. It doesn't matter. I need more external validation, but it also does little when I don't believe it, when I don't value myself. It just feels like a lie. A blatant, mocking, pitiful lie.

I want to be beautiful, but I'm just not. I want people too look at me and go wow, she's so pretty. I don't want to feel sick when I see myself in photos. But there's nothing I can do.

I want to be cool. I wish I had the energy and bravery and resources to try all the hobbies I think I might like. But I just don't. Nothing I can do.

I want to be an artist. I want to be hunched over my sketchbook when I wait for the bus, furiously drawing as if in a trance, instead of staring at my phone. When I find a new media obsession and fantasise about the characters day and night, I wish I could put them on a page to bring me joy when I'm down, to make them more real. I wish I could draw just for fun, maybe make little doodles for my friends to make them laugh, just because. I wish my first thought when I get inspired wasn't "there's no way I can do this justice". I wish I didn't feel physically in pain when I force myself to stare at my open sketchbook with pen in hand. I wish I didn't feel ashamed when I have to show people my art. I wish when my friend showed me her sketchbook, full of exactly the type of art I yearn to make, I could tell her it's beautiful without the sharp claws of envy splitting my ribcage in half.

But there is nothing I can do

I need this

And I can't have it

And it hurts so much

And no one else seems to quite feel the same.

Worse yet, it is well known many people find relief in art. They compensate for the pain, they express it, use it, channel it, find refuge from it. Sometimes their mental state inspires great artworks.

But I can never have that. I got shoved to the ground in a cold dark alley and robbed blind, robbed of any help, any outlet. It took my meaning. It took my craft. And left me to bleed out, knowing no help would ever come.