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discipline-your-body · 9 days

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An honest look at my eating habits and weight fluctuations

I'm going to start with senior year of high school. I did very intense dieting and went from ~115 lbs to lowest weight 89 lbs. However, over the summer I gained all of it back, after crashing from restricting so intensely.

I didn't weigh myself in college. In the first part of college, from living on campus I was much more active and eating on the healthier side but not perfect. The last year of college, moving into an apartment, I was much less active and eating worse, I was gaining a little bit of weight. I finished college around 135 lbs.

Post-grad and first full time job, it was a very active job, outside of work I was doing LOTS of walking/hiking. I had less time to eat, plus I was conscious of my meals and meal-planning. I lost 15-20 lbs without even realizing it. I was back to ~115 lbs. I was not regularly weighing myself and I remember feeling really surprised when I saw such a low number.

At 25-26 years old, I weighed myself again and was back to the 130s. And then it became the 140s. And then I saw a photo of myself and couldn't believe it was me. I told myself I'd do better. And then it became the 150s.

At the time, I was in denial. I thought I was eating exactly the same as a few years ago. I was utterly confused. I thought it was maybe just aging, just a part of life. But lets be honest.

I was not regularly exercising, wasn't going on daily walks anymore, wasn't doing any workout routines (maybe a 5-minute workout every once in a blue moon?) I was spending most of my free time at my computer writing or on my phone doom-scrolling.

I fell into a habit of getting breakfast takeout every day -- between Wawa, Dunkin, and Starbucks. Every day. Also, I was often ordering "large" drinks instead of medium or small. That's at least 600 calories for breakfast.

I started having two lunches at work every day. One lunch I would pack ahead (at least 500 calories), second lunch I would buy at work (around 400 calories).

Every dinner was either pasta (700-800 calories at least) or takeout (up to 1000 calories.)

Assuming I didn't have any snacks in between, that's at least 2200 calories a day. And that itself doesn't even seem like a huge amount, right? Well my BMR was probably 2000 at most. That means at least 200 extra calories a day. Not too bad, right? But that means 73,000 extra calories a year. And with each pound equaling 3500 calories, that equals gaining 20 lbs in one year. Perspective!

Keep all that in mind with how I was not working out consistently. I had a job in which I was on my feet most of the day and had to push and carry very heavy things. But that did NOT equal a true workout.

The two year period of my weight gain, I was depressed and going through a lot of horrible things. I was in denial about a lot, not only my weight gain, but other things going on in my life. I could not honestly look at myself in the mirror and admit that any eating or activity habits had changed.

Seeing the number on the scale go up, seeing myself look different in photos, no longer fitting in my old clothes and having to go up two sizes, was not my final straw. Finding out that I had Lyme disease with two years of symptoms that I chose to ignore, that was my first hint. That was what lead me to the doctor, who told me that I was on the borderline of overweight and could lose some. That's what put me on a diet/calorie restriction for the first time in ten years.

I restricted for two months and I lost 5 lbs. But it was so hard and the weight loss was happening so slowly. I lost patience and gave up. I told myself I'd just eat better and be more active. So I didn't count calories, but I just tried to make healthier choices.

One year later at my next doctor appointment, she weighed me again and told me I had gained 5 lbs more from my previous appointment. So the tiny amount of weight I lost between then, I gained double! And THAT was my final straw.

That day, I joined a weight loss app and decided to fully commit. It's now been a little over three months and I've lost 10 lbs. I'm just a sliver above the healthy BMI bracket. I'm now 145 lbs, which I don't think I've been since 2-3 years ago.

My biggest lesson I've learned right now is that we have to be honest with ourselves. We make so many excuses. We don't want to see the ugly truth. It's far too easy to turn a blind eye to weight gain. But your body wants your attention. We don't listen to our bodies!

A lot of times you think you're hungry when you're actually tired. Make sure you get enough sleep. And late evenings or nights, when you're craving a snack, it's likely your body is actually telling you to go to bed early.

Fast food breakfast adds up. Starting the day with 600+ calories is just setting yourself up for failure. Do NOT order "large" drinks and expect to have a small body. Even "medium" drinks are risky. Lattes are basically milkshakes.

Walking helps out more than you'd think. Making exercise a DAILY habit is essential.

Weight gain has much less to do with age, far more to do with habits, and we like to blame aging as an excuse for not being in control of our health. The metabolism doesn't slow down until your 60s.

Stop accepting free food from work. Stop buying your lunches from work. Work doesn't care about your health and wellness, they want to sedate you with sugar and salt.

Longer post than I expected :) but basically, I accept my actions and take accountability for my weight gain and health decline. I am making an effort and putting in the work to do better!

#journal #personal #weight loss #caloric deficit #diet #health #dieting #low cal diet #low cal restriction

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38388sjj · 1 year

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I'm genuinely losing my fucking mind idk how to even cope. All I've been hearing the entire 20 years of my fucking life is "it will get better" "hang in there" or dead, pitying, disgusting silence. It's fucking deafening. I feel like I'm living in the middle of a tornado I've blurred into. I can't see anything. I can't stop spinning. When I do my entire body screams to blur into static again, I feel like vomiting everywhere and ripping myself to shreds.

I've been having sleep paralysis again multiple times every fucking time I sleep. Seeing shadow people when I open my eyes, feeling something that isn't there talking to me and touching my neck and arms. Getting stuck in the pitch black of my mind and not being able to put myself back into the body I can feel laying fucking dead around me, not being able to fall back into a dream. Managing to get back into my body only for it not to be able to keep me awake.

Showing up late to my fucking 8 pm shifts because my body is fucking me over. My hands keep trembling. I don't fucking know why.

I gained a few pounds and I hit a number that just shredded my fucking brain. I've managed to stay at 118 and not freak out and go any lower for a long time (the "healthy" weight for my height) but I went a few pounds over that and I can fucking FEEL it on my body and I want to die. Every second I can feel that extra weight. I have never freaked out this bad even when I was hellbent on losing before or even when I weighed much more in the past.

I have been so pissed off when people look at me, it's really not fucking okay but I can't even control it.

Everyone was fucking acting weird today. They have been for a while but ESPECIALLY today. It felt like something was really off. I feel like I don't even know or understand anyone anymore. Why the fuck are they acting like that?

And I don't even think my fucking partner wants me anymore. I honestly even question if they did in the first place. They won't kiss me, touch me, and they seem to like their best friend better than they ever would me.

We hung out all together not too long ago and I dissociated so fucking bad the entire time. I couldn't even handle it mentally. I really did not like the energy majority of the time, I could not handle it.

Worst part is I don't know if I'm just being insane and needy or if my fear is actually true. It got to me so bad that when we had a moment alone I ended up crying my eyes out in front of them for the first time (I only ever cried in front of them once, a while back when I got drunk and it was NOT a lot) and going on a tangent about my literal childhood trauma and I just couldn't stop myself from talking. They listened but I FELT that pitying silence even with my back turned in the dark and I wanted to rip my vocal chords out of my throat.

I literally don't even know what I'm still hanging around here for I really don't. I don't know if I want anything from this world that I can give myself or anyone can give me. I want to stick my head underwater and huff until I drown. I really have no clue how much longer that I can do this. I have never had anyone to stay by my side, I can't even stand beside myself because I have no will to do this stupid shit. I'll either make it or I'll cut myself out.

#bipolar #suicidal #ptsd #vent

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myrandomfandomramblings · 3 years

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Angela’s “Baby Shower” - a The Rookie Fanfic

At 35 weeks pregnant Angela was over it. She was sick of always having to run to the bathroom. She was done with the fogginess in her brain interfering with her work. She was over the sore back and hips and feet that came from carrying an extra 30 pounds in her abdomen and she was tired of being so tired after being unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. But mostly she just no longer wanted to feel so different. She hated being too exhausted to go out with her friends after shift and even if she was feeling up for it she always had to get water while everyone else got their cocktail of choice. She was frustrated at being unable to bend down easily when investigating crime scenes and having to rely on others to find all the evidence. She also disliked the attention she got because of her pregnancy. Everybody always seemed to be looking at her belly, asking her when she was due, how she was doing and cooing about the joys of parenthood. She was excited about the baby and couldn’t wait to meet her little bundle of joy but she also craved normalcy, to just feel like herself and be a part of the group instead of sticking out like a sore thumb. So when Wesley pitched the idea of a baby shower to celebrate her and their little one, yet to be born, she vetoed that idea fast and hard. When she shared her reasoning her Fiancé nodded.

“I understand where your coming from but you actually gave me a really good idea for a baby shower that I’m sure you’ll love. Do you trust me?” he asked.

She had nodded and agreed to let him throw her a baby shower with the caveat that she could pull the plug at anytime.

Which brought them to the day of the baby shower, a Saturday, two weeks later.

Wesley had kept the entire thing a surprise so Angela was thoroughly confused as she watched him unpack a number of crates and garbage bags from the truck and bring them into the downtown park where she sat.

“What is all this?” She asked.

“You’ll see,” he replied giving her a wink. “Once everyone gets here.”

20 minutes later everyone was there. Lucy, Jackson, Tim, Nolan, and Harper. Grey wanted to come but had to work.

“Welcome everyone,” Wes announced, “today we will be competing to see who is the most badass pregnant person.” At this point everyone including Angela was looking at Wesley like he had grown a second head but he pushed on. “There will be three challenges: an escape room, laser tag and a contraction simulator and you will be divided into two teams. Angela as our guest of honour you get to pick your two teammates.”

“Nyla and Lucy,” Angela said immediately. She still didn’t really understand what they were doing but she had the feeling girl power was the way to victory.

Lucy and Harper excitedly moved over to Angela, giving each other high fives.

“Guess that means we’re a team,” Nolan said draping his arms around Jackson and Tim’s shoulders.

“Great,” Tim replied rolling his eyes. Angela wasn’t sure if he was mad because she didn’t choose him or because he wasn’t on the same team as Lucy either way she was looking forward to kicking his butt.

“OK now the last thing to do before we start the competition is to pregnify everyone,” Wesley stated.

“I feel like I should make some sort of joke about how babies are made but I think I’ll wait to see where you’re going with this,” Nolan offered.

“First everyone put one of these on,” Wesley said as he reached into a garbage bag and brought out a handful of wrap baby carriers which he handed out. Once everybody had theirs on he opened the lids of several storage containers.

“Now everyone, come grab a balloon and put them in your carrier.”

“Wow these are heavier than I expected. What’s in them?” Jackson asked as he lifted a balloon out of the tub.

“They’re full of water and some sand,” Wesley answered, “and they each way exactly 30 lbs, the average amount of weight gained in pregnancy. I weighed them myself.”

“Is that why you asked me where the scale was the other night?” Angela asked

Wesley confirmed before moving on. “Next everyone grab a hoodie to put over your bundle of joy,” he said opening another garbage bag.

“It’s at least 80 degrees we don’t need hoodies,” Tim complained.

“It’s to replicate the heat generated by a growing baby,” Wesley replied, “plus I had a lot of fun with them.”

Tim rolled his eyes but obediently put on the last hoodie.

All the hoodies were bright neon colours (Lucy pink, Harper purple, Jackson green, Nolan yellow and Tim blue) and had pregnancy announcements written on the front in thick black letters: ‘Baby on Board’, ‘Coming summer 2021’, ‘Eating for two’, etc.

“There’s one for you too if you want it Ange, but you don’t have to wear it,” Wesley said. “Now the last thing, well things,” he added bringing out a bottle of Benadryl and stack of medicine cups, “since I can’t give you brain fog I’m just going to make you drowsy. Everybody take a medicine cup and wash it down with one of these,” he said opening a cooler lid to reveal a stack of 1L water bottles, “the whole thing.”

“I’m going to have to pee so bad,” Lucy joked as she started to drink her water.

“That’s the idea,” Wesley replied.

They spent the next 20 minutes finishing their waters, waiting for the Benadryl to kick in and admiring their new ‘bellies’.

Angela laughed as Jackson yelled “belly bump,” while running then jumping towards Lucy who met him in the air before the force knocked them both off their feet. She laughed even harder watching them try and fail to get up on their own until Wesley came to help them. She happily accepted a belly bum from Jackson once he had taken them down a notch (or several) as did everyone else but Nolan who was excessively protecting his fake fetus, shielding his stomach with his arms and body whenever anybody approached. Angela watched her friends, thoroughly entertained by their antics. She was especially enjoying the effect a visibly pregnant Lucy was having on Tim. He was constantly stealing glances at her and when she smoothed her hoodie over her stomach and asked him how she looked his cheeks flushed and Angela was pretty sure she heard him stutter. This was confirmed by Nyla who had come up beside her and after a quick poke at Tim started reminiscing about her own pregnancy with Lila, which got the two woman talking and comparing notes. She was vaguely aware of Lucy who had taken her phone out and was now taking pictures and videos of everybody but didn’t fully turn her attention back to the others until Wesley said it was time for the first challenge: the escape room.

They walked to the escape room place which was only about a block away with minimal whining and a lot of perplexed looks from passers by. Once they got there they split into their teams and went to their respective rooms. The girls’ room was sorcerer’s lair themed and overall they got through it pretty smoothly. They had a few bumps in the road: by 20 minutes in they were all crossing their legs trying to hold their pee, Lucy fell asleep once while sitting at a table trying to decode a message and Nyla debated trying to use one of the magic wands in their room to pop her balloon. “Now I remember why I only had one. This was not easy,” she said as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. But overall they worked together really well and had a lot of fun just talking about anything and everything as they solved all the puzzles and escaped the room.

When the girls were done, after a quick trip to the bathroom, they joined Wesley in the control booth to watch the guys via video and they seemed to be having a much harder time. Jackson was trying to decode the message Lucy had but was becoming visibly more and more frustrated as he rubbed his temples and verbally demanded and pleaded with his brain to work. Nolan was trying to bend down to open a trap door (Angela had opened theirs with a broom handle) but couldn’t quite reach it without nearly falling over. After many failed attempts he eventually used the chair as a support bar to lower himself to the ground then push himself back up once the door was open. Meanwhile Tim kept swearing under his breath as he accidentally knocked various things off shelves and tables with his fake belly when he forgot how far out it reached. Luckily one of the things he knocked off opened when it hit the floor to reveal a key they needed to escape the room, which Nolan was able to retrieve with his new chair technique. Shortly after, Jackson succeeded in decoding his clue and from there they proceeded to finish the room pretty quickly and easily.

After another bathroom break they headed to the food trucks for a quick lunch where they mostly sat in content silence as everyone happily shovelled food into their mouths. This silence was only punctuated by the occasional comment that was either gloating or trash talk or by Tim barking “What are you looking at?” at people eyeing the group.

Next they headed to laser tag. Which Wesley had booked privately, so they had the whole place to themselves. The rules were simple every time you shot a member of the opposing team your team earned a point. First team to 30 won. Everybody seemed to have a good time. Angela laughed at her friends as they tried to sneak up on or out run each other, both techniques that were being significantly impacted by their fake pregnancies. Nolan at one point declared that the more aggressively you waddled the faster you could go and spent the rest of the game darting around like a mad penguin. He was ultimately successful in getting 6 points for his team using this technique which was significantly more than the 1 point he got before implementing it. Jackson on the other hand found a good hiding place in a high traffic area and would shoot the opposing team anytime they came by. Although initially this strategy was very successful and he quickly racked up 10 points, once the ladies realized their vests always lit up red when they passed that area they made a plan and were able to all find and corner him in his hiding spot. By the time he got away they had got 10 points themselves. Tim tried to use a lot of the same techniques he used at work or at paintball but unfortunately for him, although they were efficient Lucy knew all of them and was able to use that knowledge to her advantage. The girls took a different approach and worked more as a team. They used some techniques from work and also had fun designing and implementing crazy plans, including one of them acting as bait to lure the guys in and the other two blind-siding them. When all was said and done the guys won 30-29. The girls attributed this to Tim and Nolan’s height advantage. They were able to see over all the obstacles but it could also be that the girls were having a little to much fun making elaborate plans that weren’t necessarily the most practical (the gun tricks looked cool but significantly decreased their shooting accuracy). Nonetheless, Angela had the greatest total points with 16.

Following laser tag everybody was really happy but also extremely exhausted and they outright refused to walk the ten minutes back to the park despite the fact that because they were downtown it would take twice as long to drive their in traffic. While everybody went pee again Wesley walked back and brought the van.

“I call middle row,” Harper yelled as Wesley pulled into the parking lot.

“Me too,” West added.

Angela took the passenger seat which left Nolan, Lucy and Tim to squeeze into the back row. Because Lucy was the smallest she was forced to take the middle seat but it didn’t seem to matter to her as she fell asleep almost immediately and spent the 20 minute ride leaning against Tim, head on his shoulder. They woke her up once they were back at the park but only after they had taken a couple pictures.

Once they all got out of the van Wesley told them they could take off their hoodies and fake bellies. Tim and Nyla quickly took off their stuff and helped Wesley set up for the labour simulation. Meanwhile the three newly minted P2’s goofed around. Nolan pretended to be giving birth taking quick breaths and squeezing Lucy’s hand as he pushed his balloon out the bottom of the carrier where Jackson caught it. Then working together the three of them lifted the balloon above their heads and belted out ‘The Circle of Life.’ Following the end of their song they too quickly shed their layers then went to join the rest of the group gathered in front of a folding beach chair that had been set up.

“Alright everyone welcome to the final and tie-breaking event,” Wesley announced.

“Tied?” Angela questioned. “We beat the guys by at least half an hour in the escape room and they only beat us by one point at laser tag. We are winning.”

“That’s not how this works babe. But don’t worry because you will be sitting this one out because you have to go through real labor in a couple weeks, I will be taking your spot and I will make sure your team wins.”

“You better,” Angela replied teasingly.

“Alright this is the labour simulator,” Wesley explained holding up a small device, “We stick these electrodes to your stomach and this machine will deliver electricity which will result in fake contracts that range in intensity from 1-10,” he pointed to a dial on the machine. “According to the instruction book 1 is like mild period cramps, 4 is Braxton-Hicks contractions, 8 is full blown labour and 10 is just full blown torture. Whichever team can tolerate the highest combined score wins. Oh and tolerate means experience that setting for at least ten seconds without ripping the leads off your body. Any questions?” When everybody shook their heads he continued. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will,“ Jackson offered making his way to the chair. Wesley stuck the electrodes to his abdomen then he was ready to go.

He jumped initially on the first setting since he had no idea what to expect but after that he was pretty calm just clenching his jaw as the pain was increased. That is until he got to 6.

“Can I hold somebody’s hand?” he asked, “That’s a thing, right?”

Both Lucy and Nolan immediately stood up.

“How about two hands,” Nolan suggested seeing this.

“Even better,” Jackson replied intertwining his left hand with Nolan’s and his right with Lucy’s.

This was enough to get him through 7 and 8 as he channeled all his pain into his friends, crushing their hands, but one second into 9 and he immediately pulled the leads off.

“Great job Jackson,” Wesley said as everyone patted him on the back, “Who’s next.”

Lucy went next and didn’t so much as flinch until 5 at which point she decided she was going to try meditation. This helped her through 6 and 7 at which point she too wanted hands to squish. Although both Jackson and Nolan offered, Lucy’ teammates decided it was their job. Between crushing her friends hands and focusing on her breathing she got through 8 rather easily. She clearly struggled more with 9. Jackson, Nolan and Wes were counting down. “Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven,” Angela felt Lucy’s grip loosen in her own. She was going to pull off the leads that is until Tim spoke up, “Come on Chen. You’ve got this. You’re strong,” he said and Lucy’s grip tightened back around Angela’s. “Three, Two, One, Done.” Everybody cheered as Lucy released her team mates hands and opened her eyes. “Sorry team but that’s enough for me I’m not trying 10,” she said as she removed the electrodes from her stomach.

“You did great,” Angela said and patted Lucy’s shoulder.

Tim went next. Rather than closing his eyes he fixed his glare on the machine in Wesley’s hand as if he could intimidate it in to giving up. He also refused to hold anyone’s hand and instead gripped the armrests of the chair. By the time he got to 8 he was gripping so hard he broke the arm of the chair but still some how managed to maintain a near neutral expression throughout the entire experience. At this point Lucy insisted on holding the hand that had broken the chair. When he pointed out that he was worried he would hurt her she stubbornly grabbed his hand in both of hers, “I’m strong, remember.” With Lucy’s help Tim too made it through 9 and like his former rookie decided to end it there.

Harper went next. Although she was clearly in pain she was able to do 10 by focusing on her breathing, holding her friends hands and thinking about Lila.

“How did you do that?” Jackson asked awe in his voice.

“When I was in labour with Lila I had contractions that were at least the intensity of 8 that lasted a minute each for like eight hours. One ten second one is a piece of cake.”

“You didn’t have an epidural?” Nolan asked

Harper shook her head, “I was being stubborn. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.”

“You’re very impressive, but I have nothing to prove to anyone. I’m getting an epidural,” Angela offered.

“You do what’s right for you,” Nyla replied patting her friend on the back, “ You’re going to do great.”

Nolan went next. He was practically jumping out of the chair by the time it got to 6 and at 7 he was writhing around so much he actually managed to tip the chair over. The fact that he ended up in a tangled mess on the ground was probably the only reason he made it through 7 without ripping the electrodes off. He did his best on 8 but despite having everyone around him either holding his hand or holding him down he only made it five seconds.

“OK the guys got 7+8+9 that’s 24. We already have 19 so all you have to do is get through 6 babe,” Angela said to Wesley.

It should have been easy. The pain wasn’t that bad, but it was in his abdomen and it was just a little too similar to the pain he experienced when he was stabbed. He was starting to get flashbacks but he wanted to do this for his fiancé, the love of his life and mother to his unborn child. He was going to do this for Angela even when she told him it was OK, that she understood, that he didn’t need to push through this trauma for her but he wanted to. So despite the fact that his whole body was pale, we was dripping with sweat, dizzy and short of breath with tears streaming down his face he pushed through his ten seconds at 6 with steely determination. At this point Angela pulled off the electrodes for him then pulled him into a hug. All her friends wrapped themselves around the couple and they stayed like that until Wesley was feeling better.

“I didn’t get any prizes so bragging rights will have to be enough,” Wesley admitted.

“The day was prize enough,” Lucy offered, “I had a blast, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to rub it in?” Jackson asked.

“Not a chance,” she replied.

“How about because we won we get to meet the baby first?” Nyla suggested.

“That’s fair,” Angela agreed, “but what do I get?”

“Presents,” Nyla said handing Angela her baby shower present.

After Angela opened her presents which mostly consisted of clothes and books and toys for the new baby everybody headed home to get some rest.

“Thank-you,” Angela said giving Wes a quick kiss, “For today. I really needed it.”

And she meant it. She had been feeling alone, helpless, and inadequate. But today reminded her about all the people who love her, about the strength that comes with working together. It reminded her that it’s ok to be imperfect, stressed, struggling but also to be goofy, to let loose and have fun. After today she finally felt like her self again and that woman was going to be a great mother.

#the rookie #therookiemidseasonmadness #angela lopez #wesley evers #lucy chen #tim bradford #nyla harper #jackson west #john nolan #I have no idea what this is or why I wrote it

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andillshowyouwhocanttimetravel · 3 years

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I know I don’t really have that many followers, but could use some support from other neurodivergent people rn.

So I don’t have an autism diagnoses, I can identify with a lot of symptoms adult women with autism describe, but have no therapist right now to discuss any of this with.

My current diagnoses is OCD, which could be perfectly correct idk. I have bad social anxiety, depression, the works. This post is mostly about how my social anxiety interacts with my OCD.

TL;DR: My ‘boss’ who is barely my even boss, told me he ‘understands’ that I’m uncomfortable but I need to ‘face my fears’ because my anxiety caused a problem. So I had a panic attack, cried in front of him, couldn’t look at anyone for the rest of the night.

I started a new, very demanding, intense job in the middle of a global pandemic. I made a lot of progress in the past few months, pushing through with difficult people, rambling less, adapting to how certain people want to be spoken to. It’s been a lot of work but was really rewarding, becuase people see my overthinking/discomfort as a genuine effort to make their jobs easier, even if I’m awkward at times.

HOWEVER, I think most of the crew doesn’t see me as neurodivergent, just “awkward” “quirky” and my tics are “cute” or “charming” or other things that prove I mask VERY VERY VERY well.

One of my catchphrases is “Oh? You were doing a bit?”

I ask very genuinely, becuase I’m not good at knowing when people are joking or being sarcastic. This makes people laugh and I’m totally fine with that becuase it’s all in good spirits and I know they like me and I’m good at my job.

And while I guess I’m glad they think I’m ‘normal’ it means they have NO GODDAMN idea how much it tears me up inside when I say the wrong thing, or someone is passive agressive to me, or rude in passing. Because it feels like my fault. I didn’t just do something wrong, I am wrong, and bad, and stupid, and bad and bad and wrong and stupid and bad.

And I have to have this spiral about 8 times a day without anyone knowing, or letting it affect the way I talk to anyone else.

SO with that as the background, here’s what happened to me last night.

I work on a TV show. I have very little interaction with the actors, which I am very very happy with, because the social code of talking to the cast is a whole minefield I like to avoid anyway. They have specific people from my department that take care of them and it’s not me and that’s great. I’m new to this industry so I just want to stay in my lane.

But on fridays, I’m in charge of running this fun game. (“selling cards” if anyone’s done this before) It’s kind of like a raffle, I have a deck of cards and ‘sell’ each card for $20, and at the end of the night, someone (separate from the game wholly) pulls the ‘winning’ cards from a fresh deck of cards and those people take home all the money accumulated.

Every week people are excited to play but lately 1 or 2 people have told me I have to ask the cast to play too. (sometimes the cast add extra money to the pool and buy cards for other departments) But I am WAY too uncomfortable to talk to the cast while they’re working. On the few occasions I’ve had to get their attention just to say “They’re ready for you on set” have been WAAAY anxiety inducing.

So I’m not comfortable asking them to buy cards, and I’ve asked for help with this (from their assistants or Cast PAs) but since the game is my responsibilty to run, they never ask cast for me. So I don’t get any money from cast, which I could not care less about.

And this game is just some extra (meant to be) fun thing, it’s NOT part of my actual work responsibilties and is totally superfluous to the rest of what I do on set.

So the fact that it weighs so much on my mind is already a problem for me.

But last night EVERYONE was so insistent I talk to cast, but I never had a good opportunity since I was so busy, so I did what I belived was sensible; I picked the actor I was most comfortable talking to, waited until he was done working, and asked him before he went home. I had to kind of re-explain the game but he was really nice and bought some and I thought it went really well. The whole interaction took about 2 minutes.

Here I was patting myself on the back for having a good interaction I was anxious to have, and then my ‘boss’ (who has the same position as me but just kind of makes the calls for all the PAs) pulled me aside and got really serious, and said I held everyone up, by talking to the cast when he was already wrapped for the night.

He lectured me for like 5 minutes about how he ‘understands’ that I get anxious but I just needed to get over it, because the way I did it was inconvenient. And he JUST KEPT LECTURING ME in a way that was sooooooo self serving and even though I went from ‘sweating but pretty okay’ to absolute ‘nonverbal, no eye contact, heart pounding, can’t breathe, pushing tears back” meltdown right in front of him, he would not let me walk away and just kept repeating himself, probably trying to make himself feel like less of an asshole.

And it was just this slap in the face, reminding me that even when I approach a task from a level that I’m comfortable with, making my own accomadations for my disability or whatever, I am still less than, because a neurotypical person could have just done it better and without all the extra effort.

So I’m stuck in this OCD shame spiral, I’m bad and wrong and I did something wrong and bad and so I’m wrong and bad and I’m just like this and I lose either way I try things.

I don’t want to go back to work on Monday, I don’t like that he knows how easily he can make me cry, and that I can’t just walk away from him when he makes me cry becaus he has like 8% more authority than I do.

I don’t want to be like this anymore, I love this job but it is not conducive or very accessable to neurodivergent people. This isn’t emotionally sustainable for me and I’m not sure what my next move is.

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conradscrime · 3 years

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Lyle Stevik John Doe (Identified in 2018)

January 08, 2021

Ugh. I love a good John/Jane Doe case.

However, I do want to just remind everyone that as interesting as these cases are, they are very sad. We need to remember that yes a person who is unidentified is very interesting because there are a lack of answers. The main one being who are they but also what happened to them?

I think when it comes to John/Jane Doe cases we need to mindful and remain extremely respectful and not so judgemental. These people at one point were someone’s children, sibling, perhaps someone’s parent, someone’s spouse. They were most likely someone’s everything at one point. And now there could be a family or friend or loved one who has no idea what happened to them, has no idea why they haven’t heard from them or seen them.

John/Jane Doe cases are probably some of my favourite to research because they are just that, interesting. But I especially think in these cases we need to be respectful because these people are no longer here to tell their story or defend themselves. And everyone no matter, deserves to have their name back.

I’ve known about the Lyle Stevik John Doe case long before he was ever identified. I want to say around 2016 is when I first heard of the case and when he was identified in May of 2018 I was so happy, though his story is sad. Since being identified his family has chosen to keep his identity from the public which I do not blame them one bit especially because I believe the family assumed he was out living a life without them and had no idea he had been deceased for so long. My heart goes out to the family of Lyle Stevik John Doe.

TRIGGER WARNING: This case involves the topic of suicide and someone taking their own life. If this is triggering for some I suggest not reading this case and to stay tuned for upcoming cases I cover! I have a lot planned and there will be new posts from me every Friday (and on days where I am not so busy with work and school I will have 2 cases uploaded!)

On Friday, September 14, 2001 a man checked into a motel in Amanda Park Washington called the Quinault Inn under the name Lyle Stevik after arriving there via bus. The clerk told police that he may have been Canadian, as he spoke with what seemed to the clerk as an accent similar to a Canadian one.

When registering for his room he entered the alias Lyle Stevik, and for an address he wrote down the address of a Best Western facility in Meridian Idaho. The police ended up locating the hotel and questioning the staff, but none of them recognized photos of him.

The man was reportedly seen walking back and forth at the side of the highway near the motel, but it is uncertain whether these sightings were seen before or after he registered for his room at the motel. The man actually requested a different room after complaining about the noise outside the room was he given.

The man was found deceased in his motel room on Monday September 17, 2001. An initial report said he had stayed at the motel for two nights, but he had checked in on September 14, which meant he had stayed there for three nights. He originally only paid for one night, but then planned to stay for a few more days. He had hung himself by his belt from a bar inside the closet.

He had left a note that said “for the room” on the bedside table and left $160 in $20 bills to cover the remaining two nights of the weekend, which I think just shows what kind of person he was in life, a good person. The bills used to pay for the room looked fresh, it appeared that they had been recently taken out of an ATM machine. He had no wallet on him or credit card, so it seemed kind of strange that the bills looked so fresh, because how did he use a ATM machine if he didn’t have a card or wallet on him? There was also a note left that just said the words “suicide.” He is thought to have died on September 16. It is suspected that he may have died by suicide due to depression or because of a fatal disease, though the autopsy showed no signs of that.

The man was described to have light-skin, and by his features some report that he could of been from Native American or Hispanic ancestry. He also had black hair which was trimmed and neatly combed and green/hazel eyes. He weighed between 130-140 pounds, and was about 6 feet tall.

An investigator also claimed that there had been a piece of paper located in the trash bin that had “suicide” written on it as if the man were practicing how to spell it. Some believe he could not speak English well. I find this strange though because the clerk that gave him his room never mentioned that he could not speak english well from the research i’ve done, the clerk only said he had some sort of accent and like previously mentioned it was thought to be a Canadian accent, and I feel as though that would of been a very important detail that wouldn’t of been left out.

Police also said he had closed the blinds of the room and lined the closet with pillows. The man had no luggage with him, he only brought a toothbrush and toothpaste which were found in the room. He was wearing a gray tshirt and blue levi jeans and black timberland boots. There was also a blue long sleeve plaid button up shirt found laying on a chair in the room.

So you may be wondering where the name Lyle Stevik comes from. Some believe that he came up with this name from a character in a book written by Joyce Carol Oates. The novel was called “You Must Remember” and it was released in 1987. In the story, the main character’s father, Lyle Stevik, contemplates suicide, and attempts suicide, however doesn’t suceed. The John Doe spelled the name Stevik, but in the book the character’s name is spelled Stevick, with a C.

The local coroner’s office also said the man could of been from African-American ancestry in addition to having Hispanic and native american ancestry.

DNA analysis concluded he was at least one-quarter native american and one quarter hispanic or spanish. His teeth showed evidence of earlier treatment with braces. He had an old appendectomy scar which is when you get your appendix removed, and also a small mole on the left side of his chin. He also had attached earlobes which is a genetic characteristic. His nails were clean and trimmed as well.

The man also was not wearing a ring on his left finger, and there was no tan line there or any indication that he had ever worn a ring on that finger. They also did isotope testing on the man and found that he had travelled to various states before his death. Isotope testing in criminal investigations is basically used to find out things such as locating the country of origin for a given explosive, or to identify drug trafficking routes.

The examination also showed that he had recently lost a large amount of weight up to 40 pounds. The medical examiner estimated this weight difference after noticing that the size of his jeans were fairly large in comparison to his body. His belt also had extra holes that had been punched into it. His age was estimated to be between 20 and 30 years old, giving his estimated year of birth to be between 1971 and 1981.

Some also found it strange that this man had committed suicide only a few days after 9/11 happened. Investigator’s tried to connect the two, some people thinking maybe he had lost someone in 9/11 and could not go on without them so he decided to end his own life.

The man known as Lyle Stevik was a John Doe. They had no idea where he came from or where his family could be. He was buried in an unmarked grave at the Fern Hill Cemetery in Aberdeen, Washington, and went unidentified for almost 17 years.

Because this man had only been deceased for a short period of time before being found, examiners were able to obtain fingerprints, dental characteristics and DNA. These identifying markers were placed in international databases, including CODIS, but no matches were made. It was believed that he came from Port Angeles or Aberdeen, locations from which buses daily traveled to Amanda Park.

The man was not recognized by any of the bus drivers from those areas. There were also two men who had gone missing named Alexander Craig and Steven Needham, but both had been ruled out as possible identities of the Lyle Stevik John Doe.

In April of 2007, Lyle Stevik was listed as the profile of the month for Missing From the circle, which was a public service initiative launched by Lamar Associates, a law enforcement advisory organization based in Washington, D.C. to help solve cases of missing and unidentified Native Americans.

The case went cold. But in 2018, two genetic genealogists from the DNA Doe Project named Colleen M. Fitzpatrick and Margaret Press uploaded DNA profiles to GEDmatch to attempt to link the unidentified man to individuals living in New Mexico and Idaho. The DNA Doe Project is a non-profit organization dedicated to identifying unknown deceased persons.

And then on May 8, 2018 it was announced by the Grays Harbor Sheriff’s office that Lyle Stevik had been identified through DNA analysis and comparison with genetic relatives, performed by the DNA doe project in collaboration with Aerodyne and Full Genomes Corporation. They found a cluster of matches of relatives, perhaps even two or three generations removed, in New Mexico. Through this they were able to find members of the John Doe’s birth family.

The man was from Alameda County, California and was 25 years old at the time of this death. The Grays harbour county sheriff’s office notified the man’s family, who had believed him to be alive and had just thought he did not want to associate with them. His family had a set of his fingerprints that were taken in grade school, as part of a children’s identification program.

The sheriff’s department compared those to the fingerprints of the deceased man taken in 2001 and made a positive identification. However, we do not know the man’s actual name because his family has asked to keep it private, they do not want him to be publicly identified.

This case is oddly similar to a case that happened in 1996. A woman who went by the name Mary A. Anderson committed suicide in a hotel room in Seattle, Washington in October of 1996. However, this is known to be a fake name the woman used and they have never been able to identify her.

She reserved a room via telephone on October 9 about 90 minutes before she checked in. She arrived with two bags and paid cash for two nights. She also entered a New York address and telephone number, which investigator later determined to be false.

On Friday, October 11 her body was discovered by a hotel staff member after she failed to check out. She was found reclining in the bed, clasping a Bible to her chest with the pages opened to Psalm 23. There was a suicide note on the bedside table. She left no identification.

The Medical examiner determined she had consumed a lethal mixture of metamucil and cyanide and ruled her death a suicide. The woman was white, said to be between ages 30-50, with well groomed manicured nails and neatly combed hair. She had an IUD inserted, and appeared to have had breast surgery at some point in her life.

Police tried to identify her through fingerprint records on file with the FBI, as well as through missing persons reports filed in the US, Canada and through Interpol which is the International criminal police organization. They were unable to trace the origins of cyanide used and the medical examiner’s office said that the woman had purposely left out any way that she could be identified. I included a photo of her facial reconstruction down below along with Lyle Stevik’s.

Though I don’t really believe there’s any connection to these two cases they are eerily similar and as I mentioned earlier I think John/Jane Doe cases are especially important to cover, and especially important to be respectful of any friends or family if they ever come across this post.

It makes me extremely happy that Lyle Stevik John Doe was identified in May of 2018. His family has asked to keep his identity from the public, however after doing further research I did find some websleuths who have supposedly found a picture of Lyle Stevik in a yearbook and have released his real name. Personally, the photo to me looks extremely real and does look like him, almost exactly.

However, because his family wants to grieve in peace I will not be posting that photo or his supposed real name. I do not think that is fair to the family and I think we need to let this case rest. Lyle Stevik got his name back, his family has the closure they needed after all these years and that’s all that matters.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this post! I have included a photo of Lyle Stevik John Doe’s sketch but I will not be including photos of his body or the supposed yearbook photo of him as I just find that extremely disrespectful to not only him, but also his family.

Hope you enjoyed this case!

#true crime #crime #solved #johndoe #john doe #identified #2001

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udunie · 3 years

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(anon submission)

Uhhh…so I really really liked BreedingProgram!nonnie’s ideas. Especially the part about modifying him to carry extra large exotic animals? And it inspired this horribly fucked-up thing, so I promptly had to share it with you (I know it is way too long, I will not feel bad at all if you delete without reading it all).

Basically: a vegetable growing contest, except instead of growing the largest vegetable, it’s a competition to grow the largest omega pregnancy.

The omegas are weighed and have their waists measured on their 16th birthdays. Then their pregnancy is measured on their 18th birthday, and the animal is weighed after it is born. Whoever submits the omega with the biggest pregnancy (vs. pre-pregnancy size) wins. Both the omega and the offspring must survive a live birth (cesareans are disqualifying), and the omega must be fully functional on the measuring day: able to produce at least a quart of milk and tight enough for the judges to achieve orgasm in all three holes (vagina, ass, and mouth). Other than that, the contestant may modify their omega and extend the pregnancy in any way they desire.

The skill comes both in conditioning and growing the omega properly, and getting the timing down. Since the pregnancy is measured against the starting size, growers get their omegas as small as possible in advance of the first judging day - to even have a shot, the omega can’t be larger than a 12 inch waist and 100lbs. It’s standard to remove or reduce all “unnecessary” ribs and internal organs (stomach, liver lobe, kidney, etc.) and feed the omega as little as possible while keeping it healthy enough to reproduce.

Peter was a hot up-in-coming grower, but his last entry went in to labor a week before her 18th birthday and he couldn’t stop her from giving birth, leading to a humiliating disqualification.

Stiles is his chance to redeem himself. In addition to the normal hormone treatments and removing all of the standard unnecessary ribs and internal organs, Peter removes over half of his lungs, so he has to be constantly attached to an oxygen tube (and he will lose some IQ points over time from the deprivation, but that’s not what he’s there for, is it?) and puts him on a starvation diet for two months in advance. It’s a risk that he will make it to the judging, but it works: even though Stiles is taller than average, he weighs in at 86 pounds with a 10 inch waist.

As soon as the omegas are weighed, most growers start modifying their omega’s pelvis so it can accommodate the birth (stretching the canal can be done after the pregnancy begins). Peter doesn’t mess around here - he follows standard procedure and removes the organic pelvis entirely, replacing it with a custom mechanical pelvis that can expand when required. This also allows him to remove the organic legs, and replace them with prosthetics that can be removed to allow easier access to Stiles’s holes. It’s traditional to model the prosthetics to match the species of the offspring.

Peter takes another risk here: Asian elephants are high risk, high reward. Because of the natural length of the pregnancy, if he wants to extend it further within the two year time frame, he needs to begin the pregnancy *immediately*, which cuts down on preparation time and means Stiles won’t have had time to recover from his starvation diet. But he knows his baby can do it.

Fortunately, Stiles catches on the first try and Peter can move on to the next step: reinforcing his spine. He has to keep it straight in his torso for support, but above that he can force it into a permanent curve that exposes Stiles’s long neck and thrusts his chest out. He never develops proper breasts because he is never able to develop any fat reserves, all of the nutrition he takes in going toward his pregnancy. But Peter is able to develop his nipples into proper long teats with the help of a milking machine he attaches to them every night.

Of course, Stiles develops beautifully, bigger than any omega Peter has grown before. It is clear he is favored to win months in advance, especially considering how small he was when he started. On the day of the judging, he is obscenely huge and passes with flying colors, and gives birth to a healthy baby elephant two weeks later, finally winning Peter the blue ribbon.

…of course, like almost all entries in an omega growing contest, Stiles is completely wrecked afterwards. His womb will never properly deflate and his vaginal canal muscles are too ruined to carry another pregnancy, so he is basically a filthy, empty sack. Peter ends up donating both both him and the elephant to the zoo. The zoo finds a good use for him though - since he is already on a permanent oxygen tube, they attach him to the wall of a giant octopus enclosure, where he quickly becomes a favorite habitat for the octopi to force themselves into. Peter helps the zoo rewire the controls for his pelvis to his orgasm, and the zoo uses him as a learning exhibit for children, showing them how the octopi are clever enough both to figure out how to make their “habitat” open and close, and to enjoy playing with their “toy,” forcing his screaming muscles to open and close as quickly as possible as they make him orgasm continuously.

*************

Udunie: Well, damn, that is a plot and a half! :D

I seriously love this concept with the growing and all that shit *_*

There are some things that don’t sit well with me (as in i can’t stretch my suspension of disbelief further lol, but your mileage may vary)

I think... If all you needed was to weight omegas, you would start with taking the limbs off, right? + all the organs you don’t really need, but I feel like that would be more of a volume thing than a weight one. Taking out the lung might not be that good in that regard, cause that’s also the baby’s oxygen source, and you need a healthy baby to win.

I love all the body mod/starvation aspects of this :D

Also, I know that vegetable growing contests are a bit bonkers (and i have no idea how they get the results they do lol), but an asian elephant would probably be a stretch? They are smaller than african elephants, but they are sill about 200+ pounds (~100kg) at birth, and unless you somehow change all of the tissues Stiles has into rubber, I don’t know how that would come out without a Cesarean :D

I just spent the last... hour googling pregnancy stuff. Largest human baby was about 22 pounds (10kg - born to two ppl with gigantism, who met at a circus!) Longest human pregnancy was a bit over a year - apparently cause the baby was developing very sloooowly.

Anyway, I think even with ~omega magic~ and modifications you wouldn’t be able to give birth vaginally to something larger than 30-ish pounds??? (then again, depending on support and circumstance, you might be able to carry a larger pregnancy to term? So if you were suspended in fluid or something, you might be able to carry two 20 pound babies?)

But that would still be a comparatively giant baby!!!

Also!!! just as a side! I would love it if there were different categories in the contest??? Like “largest baby” where the baby’s weight would be the factor “longest pregnancy” where owners would use different drugs to make the omegas carry into overtime and “largest litter” (with the condition that only babies over 2 pounds are taken into account) where owners would use all sorts of hyper-fertility treatments to get their omegas stuffed full of babies :D

And the crowning achievement of all - of course - would be to have an omega who won all three categories over the years???? (also!!! if this was an au where omegas have both an anal and a vaginal womb, the absolute highest achievement could be winning all categories with both wombs????)

Thanks for sending this in, nonnie! *hugs*

#prompt box #submission

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pocket-clown · 4 years

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Something Better | Arthur Fleck x reader

// AN: I meant to get this out before midnight (EST), but... obviously that didn’t work out, since it’s past 3am, now. I wrote then revised this entire thing in less than twelve hours, so if it’s not the most structured thing I’ve ever written I apologize

Summary: After days spent coming to terms with your growing feelings for your distant neighbor, you realize that New Years Eve offered the perfect opportunity for you to see the man you’d become infatuated with.

Sort of a Part II for Smile. I make a few references to it, so you might want to give it a quick read if you haven’t already!

Words: 4,055

Entirely capable of holding a ceramic plate were you on most days, but your nerves at the moment made it feel as if the one currently in your hands weighed tons heavier than it truly did. You shifted your weight back and forth as you stood awkwardly in front of the door of your apartment, wondering if you should even do what it was you so wanted to.

You knew that Arthur lived alone with his mother, just like you knew neither of them were doing anything tonight. It was New Year’s Eve, and most of Gotham was sort of celebrating it (if you could count the drunken hooting and hollering from the sidewalks, the cars blaring their horns, the local news station’s coverage of some of the large bar-parties going on as celebrating), but not you, nor your sweet, albeit eccentric neighbor and his mother - the same neighbor you’d quite literally ran into about a month prior.

Having the evening off from work, you’d lounged about your apartment for the majority of it. Not much on television had entertained you, and you’d grown quite fed up with laying in bed with nothing but the quiet hum of the radio in the background to keep you company, and in a fit of restless desperation to find something, anything, to entertain yourself with, you’d settled on the decision to bake - work that you’d actually be able to see and enjoy the result of. It had gone smoothly, as you thankfully already had everything you needed, but once it was completed, you thought to yourself and figured that you didn’t really need the entire two dozen to yourself. It didn’t take long to figure out what to do with the extra; you had no friends, still so new in town, but your thoughts had drifted to Arthur and his mother.

Surely they’d like the gift, right? Not only was it a gift, but it was also an excuse to see Arthur, the only person that had actually managed to make you feel something beyond the usual feelings of loneliness and detachment from your surroundings that'd been plaguing you for the last who-knew-how-long. The more you thought about him as the weeks went on, the more you’d feel your heart flutter at the mere thought of his name, and the more your face would flush with the heat of excitement when you thought about how you’d eventually run into him again.

You’d denied your feelings since the minute they arose, but you were beginning to come to terms with the fact that you were experiencing your first, genuine crush on someone. You felt rather embarrassed about it; there was an obvious age gap between the two of you (though you were an adult, there was a considerable gap of probably close to 10 years, with you being in your 20s and him in his 30s), and you’d only spoken to the guy less than a handful of times. Sure, the two of you had exchanged glances and smiles in the hallway a few times; the way Arthur would look at you, then away, then look back again suggesting he wanted to say something, but he never did. You chalked it up to nerves, most of the time; those rare occasions that the two of you rode in the elevator together proved that he was as shy and socially anxious as you were (if not even more than you were), but there was a pestering, nagging little voice in the back of your mind, telling you that he just didn’t want to talk to you.

Which is why you were so nervous about delivering the plate of cookies to him. You figured that if he wanted anything to do with you, he would’ve initiated it - but couldn’t you, then, say the same for yourself? As much as you hated to admit it, you knew that sometimes, you were the one that needed to make the first step, to make the first move, for a lot of things - regardless of what they involved.

So with a deep breath and some mental pep-talk, you left your apartment and hurried down the hall, almost managing to talk yourself out of it once you realized that it was nearly 9 in the evening - you really didn’t want to come across as an inconsiderate nuisance for showing up so late.

With five quick knocks to the door labeled 8J, you took a deep breath, eyes focused downwards, on the plate in your hands. You almost missed the muffled voice from inside, no doubt Arthur’s mother asking him to get the door, and when the door finally did open, your voice caught in your throat. Arthur was in what you presumed to be his pajamas; a beige, long-sleeved shirt which wasn’t nearly as loose on him as the majority of his other sweaters were and sleep pants, his hair slicked back, damp from a shower. The tired, worn features of his face, his green eyes which were wide with surprise, were nothing less than handsome to you, and it took him greeting you for you to finally snap out of your daze.

“Oh, Y/N - hey.” Arthur said, and you suddenly found it very hard to make eye contact.

“Hi - I’m sorry to be a bother so late, but I wanted to wish you and your mother a happy new year.” You said, holding the plate out to him, your thumb gently rubbing the edge of it as you tried to soothe your nerves. “I had some extras leftover after baking, and thought you might like them.”

Arthur’s eyes looked from your face to the plate, then back to your face again as he seemed to be taking a second to let it sink in that you were giving them to him, a puzzlement you couldn’t really blame him for since small acts of kindness were essentially nonexistent in Gotham.

“Oh! - Really, for me? And my mom? That’s so kind of you, thank you.” He spoke softly, slowly taking the plate from you, and the way his hand brushed against yours made your breath hitch. “I’m sure my mother will enjoy them - they look great.”

“I hope you like them, too! I made them with you in mind, really - ” You bit your tongue at your confession, not meaning to actually admit that to Arthur. “I mean - I hoped you’d like them - since I don’t know what kind you like, and… yeah.” You rubbed at the back of your neck, realizing you’ve done nothing but make the situation leagues more awkward than it needed to be, and you figured it was time to bid him goodnight before you did nothing but embarrass yourself further. “Right, so, I’ll get going now - I think I’ve kept you long enough.”

You managed to pry your focus away from the frame of the door and actually look at Arthur, finally, only to see that he was looking right at you. Your eyes met, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself get lost in how gentle his were as he looked at you.

“Oh, I don’t mind… but you’re probably busy tonight, aren’t you.” Arthur said, and dare you say he almost sounded disappointed as he spoke, though you told yourself that was just you reading too much into things and being overly hopeful again - something you’d learned only ever led to shattering disappointment.

You couldn’t help but let out a quick laugh at this, not even able to remember the last time you had spent a holiday with someone. “Oh, not at all. It’s just me tonight, actually, but please - tell your mother I said hello! And happy new year, Arthur. Have a goodnight.”

And just like that, with a smile and a quick wave, you were heading back down the hallway towards your own apartment, the sound of your slippered footsteps hushing the sound of your heart that was pounding rapidly in your ears. You felt a bit embarrassed, if you were being honest; you felt like you’d made a fool of yourself, with how you’d admitted the fact that you really only thought of him when you made the treats, never mind the fact that you’d done so so late in the evening, but something told you that Arthur was much more taken aback by the fact that you’d gone out of your way to do something kind for him and his mother than he was by your awkwardness.

At least, you hoped that was the case.

“Y/N?”

Immediately did you turn around, looking right back at Arthur after he’d called out for you. Something about the way he said your name - your name!, as simple as it was - made your heart skip a beat, and you held your breath as you waited for him to finish speaking.

"Would…. Would you like to come in? For a little while?” His voice was hesitant, as if he were unsure if he should even be asking such a thing, lest you reject him.

Your heart flooded - every bit of it screaming yes, please, yes -

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude on you and your mother -”

“Please, you won’t be - and I want to... I want to talk to you, if that’s okay with you.”

You were powerless to stop the smile that spread across your face from doing so, and without wasting a second more you once again, though a bit slower this time, made your way to the door of Arthur’s apartment, finding yourself giggling a bit at how he ushered you right inside with a welcoming “come on in”.

“Happy? Who is that?” The woman who was sat in a chair in the living room called out, and you could only assume that that was Arthur’s mother.

“Ma - this is Y/N. She’s the new neighbor, and she brought us something.”

“Ohhh..” She mused playfully. “So you’re the nice girl that my Happy was going on about before.”

What - really?

Arthur groaned at this, not bothering to hide his embarrassment as he padded into their small kitchen, where he set the plate of cookies on the counter top. “Mom, hush about it…”

The way your heart swelled with warmth at seeing Arthur interact with his mother was one of the most foreign feelings you’d ever experienced. During one of your past, brief talks in the hallway had he admitted to you that he lived with her, and he was so hushed about it, as if he were embarrassed to admit that he was a grown man living with his mother. He was quick to explain that she was old and ill so he’d moved in to take care of her - something he did very well, he stressed - and you tried to quell his worry that you judged his living arrangements by telling him how sweet that was, something he seemed almost relieved to hear.

“This is my mother, Penny. Penny Fleck,” He said, the warmth in his voice unwavering, as he led you into their living room. You could tell how much he loved his mother, and it was incredibly admirable to you how you could only presume that day in and day out he scarified a lot to make sure she was taken care of. “She insisted on staying up for the new year, so - so I thought that maybe you’d like to come in and maybe stay for it, too.”

Arthur rubbed at the back of his neck shyly, keeping his gaze on the television as the newscaster was going on about Gotham’s typical celebrations for the new year. A large clock near Gotham Square that read the time, and the second it struck midnight, a barrage of fireworks would go off, and those gathered around would throw their hats, coats, gloves, whatever, up into the air in glee. It was a long standing tradition, apparently, but there were still a good few hours before that - and you couldn’t help but feel a bit excited that you would get to spend them with Arthur.

“How old are you, Y/N?” Penny asked out of the blue, and you couldn’t help but stutter out a laugh at how bold of a question it was, once you’d taken a seat on their couch. Arthur was sat next to you, and you couldn’t help but be incredibly aware of how close he was sitting to you.

“Mom, c’mon, don’t start with that -”

“Oh, please, Happy. I’m just curious.” She said, looking from him to you, expectantly.

“I’m 23.” You said after a second of silence, unsure if you should even admit how young you were, out of the worry that it would completely sully any sort of feelings Arthur had for you, regardless of whether they were platonic or more - assuming he even had any to begin with.

“Oh you’re so young - and you’re really talking to my son, of all people?”

“Mom!”

“Ha, Ms. Fleck - it’s not like that, really; we’re just... friends.” You spoke carefully, trying to not assume Arthur’s friendship or anything. “He’s the only one that’s been friendly since I’ve gotten here.”

“That’s how it is here; all day on the news, more and more bad stuff.” Penny spoke with a sigh, her head lolling to the side a bit as she kept her eyes fixed on the television, and you and Arthur exchanged a brief look. “Anyway, Happy said you brought something?”

And with that, things flowed easily. Though it was awkward, much more so than you’d anticipated, you could feel your infatuation with Arthur growing as the night went on. You learned more about him, as the conversations went on; you’d known he was an aspiring comedian from a previous talk, but now he even offered to read you some of his jokes - however Penny was quick to quiet him down, insisting that you’d probably prefer funny jokes, a jab which hurt you, but Arthur... took like it was nothing. They seemed surprised to learn that you were completely on your own, living in such a big, new city, and how absolutely genuine Arthur sounded when he said that you needed to be careful because the people around were always so rude made you bite your lip.

You could’ve sworn that every now and then Arthur would take a peek at you, his eyes looking over your face as you watched the television, but you told yourself that you were just anxious, and that your anxiety was getting you all worked up and making you imagine things. Penny’s questions never stopped, though; she asked you anything and everything ranging from what you did for a living, if you were in school, your family, even your past relationships - the last of the two being things you skit around vaguely, not going too much into detail about.

As the night went on, you and Arthur had slowly scoot closer together, though not close enough to actually be touching each other. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and every circuit in your brain that had been hardwired to make you hesitant when it came to physical touch felt as if they were short circuiting, and the urge to do something, even if it was just to rest your head on his shoulder, grew harder and harder to ignore.

You and Arthur made simple conversation whenever Penny’s attention was focused on the TV; anything the two of you could find to bond over was, and through so many words could you piece together things about him that he hadn’t directly told you. His loneliness, his lack of any interpersonal relationships, Gotham’s habit of treating him much harsher than a man as kind as he was could ever deserve; the more the two of you spoke, the more you could see bits and pieces of the self he kept hidden - his worries, the depression that seemed to have made its home in his psyche who knew how long ago, the peculiar way he viewed the world and those around him, and the like. You’d known from previous, short conversations with other tenants that Arthur was that neighbor; Arthur was the one that everyone would avoid, the one pegged as weird, and unstable - the one that made everyone uncomfortable. To you, though, Arthur was none of that; while no, you still didn’t know him that well and you could easily tell that he wasn’t exactly conventional (you had a feeling there was some sort of concealed darkness, almost, that was lurking inside of him), you could tell that he was, genuinely, a kind soul who wanted nothing more than to just spread joy and laughter - the mission he told you was his purpose in life, something you couldn’t help but smile fondly at.

Eventually, Arthur deemed Penny too tired to be able to remain awake long enough to ring in the new year wit the two of you - she’d dozed off mid-sentence twice - and after some minor protest from her she gave in, and Arthur helped her to bed. In the whopping thirty seconds he was gone with her for, you took in as much of their apartment as you could; the wall-paper that was peeling in some spots, and chipping in others (and was that a bullet hole…?), the small desk that was nestled in the corner which you assumed was where Arthur spent the majority of his free time, that yellow hoodie of his that had become such a comforting sight to see hanging up near the door, the stacks of VHS tapes of the Murray Franklin show piled on top of and underneath their television stand - every little detail that your eyes could pick up on that might tell you just a little bit more about the man you had fallen so hard for.

“Sorry about that…” Arthur muttered once he came back into the living room, returning to his spot next to on the couch, though further from you than he had been previously. “She can get... like that, sometimes.” He said, obviously still a bit embarrassed by how his mother had asked so many personal questions, completely unabashed. He seemed both relieved that his mother wasn’t there to pester you anymore and even more tense, now that it was just the two of you alone. You couldn’t help but notice how his hands were clenching the thigh fabric of his pants as he sat, his eyes fixed on the television, his right leg bouncing slightly.

“Oh, it’s fine. It was kinda funny, actually.” You dismissed his concern with a wave of your hand, leaning back in your seat, something Arthur shook his head at, sighing softly something about you being too understanding.

“I do it more, now, you know.” You said after a few minutes of neither of you speaking.

Arthur looked at you, his dark brows furrowed as he tried to work out what you meant.

“Smile. I smile more, now - ever since you told me I should. Or I try to, at least.”

“I - really?” Arthur asked, and he sounded so surprised that it was almost childlike.

“Mhm,” You nodded, entirely too shy to look away from the TV, which was bright with the colors from Gotham Square. “It’s helped - Oh, hey, look! It’s almost time!”

Which it was; the bright red numbers of the clock were ticking down with less than five minutes left until it was the new year. Gotham was the liveliest you had ever seen it, and it almost made you a bit sad, if you were being honest with yourself - occasionally, did you wish that you were bolder of a person; someone who could go out, interact, and get together with others. You liked being alone, you really did, but you disliked feeling so lonely - though that was the aspect of solitude that you’d grown most used to, unfortunately.

Sitting in Arthur’s living room though, in his presence - it was the first time in years that you didn’t feel as alone. You and Arthur were still new with each other; this was the longest you’d spend with him, and you still didn’t know very much about him, nor did he about you. It was still a bit awkward, with neither of you really sure how to talk with the other, but something about the situation, something about Arthur, made you feel less alone in the cold, unforgiving city that was Gotham. Even if you two just remained acquaintances, only giving each other passing Hellos and Goodbyes in the hallway, you’d be okay with that - because it meant that you’d still get to see him, and that was enough.

“Y/N?”

Arthur’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Why would someone as nice as you move to a city as awful as this one?”

Arthur’s elbows were resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together as his eyes were fixed on the coffee table in front of the television. He looked deep in thought - as if something had been bothering him, and though his question was presented as one born from sheer curiosity, the genuine confusion that it was laced with didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You shrugged. “I guess I was just… looking for something. I don’t know what, though. Maybe change, or I hoped that moving here would make me feel better, make me feel like I was a part of things, if you get what I mean.”

Arthur actually chuckled a small bit at this. “Yeah, I do.” He said quietly, before sighing and running a hand through his now dry hair - a simple action that you couldn’t help but find adorable.

You were relieved that the booming of the fireworks from the television (which you could also hear from outside, though muffled) coupled with the cheering of the crowd was loud enough to occupy the silence that would’ve fallen between the two of you, as you feared that if it had grown quiet enough then Arthur would’ve been able to actually hear how hard your heart was pounding.

As the festivities died down and people began to retreat from the streets and return to their homes, you figured that it was time for you to to the same and head back to your own apartment. Arthur walked you to the door, thanking you once again for the baked treats you’d brought over, something you said you’d happily do again if he and his mother liked them.

Once you were in the empty hallway with Arthur lingering in the doorway, you couldn’t ignore the subtle feeling of melancholy that had washed over you, now that the reality of the situation was settling in and soon you’d be without the contentment that was Arthur’s presence.

“Thanks for having me over for a bit - it meant a lot, seriously.”

“Of course - I didn’t think want you to be alone.”

Oh, how you wished you could stay in that moment forever; the way Arthur smiled that gentle, fond smile that you’d grown to love at you as he spoke, though he kept his eyes from looking you in your own, made your heart melt into a puddle of what you could only describe as the feeling of pure bliss.

But alas, with it being past midnight and your fatigue from the day creeping up on you, you knew that you couldn't stay any longer and that the two of you needed to part for the night. You had no idea when you’d get the chance to see Arthur again, and your heart sank as you knew there was a good chance that it wouldn’t be for quite awhile, given the difference in your schedule - but that’s just how life went. No sense in lingering on it.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” You asked in a manner that as awfully reminiscent of your first meeting, and Arthur nodded.

“Of course you will - I’m right here.” He said, not bothering to hide the mischievous grin that adorned his face, knowing fully what you were playing at. “And Y/N - happy new year.”

“Yeah, you too, Arthur.” You smiled at him as you turned around to head back to your own apartment. “Something tells me that this one is going to be a little bit better.”

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taglist;

@tahliamalfoydepp @tsukiakarinobara @smol-nari @ajokeformur-ray (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #joker #joker 2019 #joker x reader #joker x you #joker 2019 x reader #joker 2019 x you #arthur fleck imagine #joker 2019 imagine #mine

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lia-jones · 3 years

Text

Growing Together - Chapter Eight - Aftermath

Author’s note: This chapter has graphic descriptions of violence, as Andrea remembers a very specific episode of her abuse. If you sensitive to this kind of things, avoid the third part in italic.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes were hers. They were red and puffy, almost unable to stay open. It was obvious that she had been crying for days. I tried to call for her, but only a raspy sound came out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet.” I heard her instruct. “Your vocal cords must be sore from the tube.”

“She woke up?” I heard my father ask. “Andy, can you hear us?” He bolted to my mother’s side, allowing me to see his face.

“Andy, do you remember what happened to you?” My mother’s eyes shone again with tears.

I lied, shaking my head. I knew exactly what had happened. I wished that I didn’t.

“Do you need a blanket?” I felt Victor’s hand touching my shoulder. I turned my gaze from the jet window to face him, seeing concern in his eyes.

“I’m ok.” I quipped, turning to the window again. I could feel Victor watching me, but he didn’t speak another word.

“The pilot wants to let you know that we will be arriving in Loveland at 3 pm, local time.” We were informed by the flight attendant. “The duration of flight is estimated to be 11 hours. Should I prepare the bed?”

“Maybe for later.” Victor answered. “Put on some extra pillows for my wife as well.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as the flight attendant walked back to the booth.

“You have been very quiet since we left the clinic.” He held my hand. “Are you in pain? I’ll ask for a bottle of water so you can take an analgesic.” Victor motioned to press the CALL button.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” I rubbed my forehead. Victor lovingly took my hand, lowering it to my lap.

“That doesn’t mean tired.” He quipped softly. “But maybe you should take a nap. You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

I laid down beside my husband, letting him wrap a protective arm around me. His hand took mine, drawing soft lines on my skin.

“Are you comfortable?” I heard him whisper.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes, trying to end the conversation.

“Do you need another pillow?”

“I’m sleepy.”

I felt his lips touch my hair.

“Good night.”

I got the pen and paper from my mother’s hand and placed it on my lap, writing furiously on it.

“The baby?” I wrote.

My mother sighed heavily, and took my hand.

“Andy…” She trailed off. I slapped the paper hard with my hand. Why couldn’t she tell me already? I knew he was dead, no embryo would survive that beating. But I needed to hear it.

“It’s incredibly rare, but it can happen to a woman to have a false positive pregnancy test.” My mother explained. “There was no baby. You weren’t pregnant.”

That was simply ridiculous. There was a baby, I was sure there was a baby. I had symptoms, my breasts were swollen, I was late, there was a positive test…

“I have something to tell you, Andrea.” My mother warned me, with tears in her eyes. “But you have to promise me you’ll be strong.”

I nodded, without knowing exactly what I was agreeing to, or what kind of strength would I need.

“You had severe uterine bleeding.” She held my hand tightly. “They had to perform a hysterectomy.”

I woke up, enjoying the soft sun and the earthy colors of our bedroom for the first time in a week. We were back in Loveland. I had left in Switzerland the dream of giving Victor a biological child.

What exactly does one do when one’s dream is gone? Until our trip to Switzerland, my infertility was a reality, but with the help of science, it could still be overcome. The dream was dormant, but still alive. Now, not even all the fighting in the world could make me have a child of my own. The dream was dead. The only thing left to do was to bury it, and move on.

Without much thought, I got up from bed and did what I did every morning, on a normal day: I went to the kitchen. And predictably enough, Victor was finishing cooking, the scrambled eggs and toast already on the table, a mug with coffee placed by my usual seat.

“Good morning.” He announced, as he added to the table some sliced fruit. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“The cramps seem to be gone.” I declared, making an effort to look perky. “ Will you give me a ride today? I need to go to LCG today, see how the remodeling is going. Any interesting news?”

My husband didn’t seem interested in the news, though.

“You’re going to work?” He frowned at me. “You had a procedure two days ago.”

I gently placed my forkful of eggs on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t want to think about Switzerland or my procedure. I just wanted to move on.

“Three days ago.” I corrected. “There’s a time difference. Besides, I’m fine, I’m just going to see the remodel, I’m not going to break any walls myself.”

I needed to sound as normal and healthy as possible if I was going to convince my husband. But the truth was, I was not only trying to convince Victor, I was also trying to convince myself. Except my body wasn’t in on my lie. I felt a painful cramp in my lower abdomen that almost made me double over, suppressing a whimper.

“I have to find my phone.” I got up from my seat carefully, before Victor could be any wiser. “I must have a hundred emails to return.”

Victor and I didn’t reveal what we were doing in Switzerland, just stating we had meetings with new clients there and would be extremely busy, so we kept communications to a bare minimum. When I went to the clinic for the procedure I turned off my phone, and because of all that happened after, I never remembered to turn it on again. The moment my device came to life, it started beeping non-stop.

I started skimming through the messages, already categorizing the most urgent ones to reply as soon as I got to my computer. My eyes lingered on one sent by Diane.

Aunty Andrea, I have arrived! I was born on August 19th, at 7 pm, weighing 6 pounds. I am a healthy and happy baby and I can’t wait to meet you. Mommy and Daddy say hi! Lots of love, Penny.

Below there was a picture of a sweet baby wrapped in a pink soft blanket, sleeping peacefully. I heard Victor speaking from behind me, leaning against the door frame.

“I was going to tell you after breakfast.”

I took a deep breath, afraid I might start to cry. Clearing my throat, I turned to him, trying to act as perky as possible.

“It’s ok, now I know.” I moved past him to the walking closet. “Penny looks absolutely precious.” I picked a shirt to wear. “I need to call Diane to know when it’s the most convenient to visit. They’re probably too tired to see people right now.”

“Just stop it already.” Victor scolded, making me start to get jittery. “I know you are unwell, you shouldn’t be going to work. You need time to recover.”

“No, what I need is a shower and to get back to my life. I can’t do that staying at home and moping.” I was desperate to get steaming water on my abdomen to ease the pain I was feeling. “Give me 20 minutes and we can leave.”

My wish to pretend everything was ok soon fell apart, as the dull pain I was feeling sharpened and made my knees buckle. The only reason I didn’t fall was Victor’s watchful stance, as he promptly gathered me in his arms.

“You’re not going to work today. Neither am I.” He sat me on the bed. “I’ll help you shower and change into more comfortable clothes, but no one is leaving the house today. You just had surgery, and you are still in pain.”

Despite my protests, Victor undressed me and took me to the bathroom, allowing me to shower by myself under the condition that he would sit outside the stall, waiting for me. I let the hot water dissolve the knots in my body, my mind reeling with thoughts of the recent events.

For the past two years, I had worked hard to get rid of all the marks Daniel left in me. I got my self-esteem back, fell in love, made a career for myself. But I couldn’t erase the mark that hurt me the most, my infertility. I had told everyone that I couldn’t remember what had happened, convincing them that my head injury or maybe shock had erased it from my mind. However, I was trying to spare their feelings. The truth was too cruel, I needed to keep it to myself, so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. That day at the hospital, I swore to myself that what happened that night would die with me.

First, the memory came in flashes. I did my best to keep it hidden in the dark corner of my mind, but to no avail. It was overpowering me, to the point that I forgot where I was, and simply closed my eyes, finding myself on the cold floor of my old kitchen again.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Daniel circled me as I sat on the floor, wiping the blood from my nose. “Did you really think I would just let you walk away?”

He removed the belt from his pants and wrapped it around my neck, tightening it as he kneeled behind me.

“Listen carefully, my love. You don’t get a say about your life. You don’t get a say about that baby’s life. You don’t even get to decide where you go.” I fumbled uselessly to get the belt off my neck, almost passing out with the lack of oxygen. I was startled with his mouth whispering in my ear. “I’m the one who decides who stays and who goes, and I decide who gets to live. Let me tell you what I have decided.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and suddenly smashed my head against the tile. After that, I couldn’t get up. The pain was so unbearable I was paralyzed and temporarily blind, my ears ringing loudly. The only thing I could feel was the blood pouring from my forehead and pooling on my hair and ears, and his voice, far away, like I was under water.

“I will let you live your pathetic miserable life.” He spoke with disdain. “But you will not have that child, or any other child.”

The first kick made the air suddenly leave my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe in anymore, before another kick followed. And another. And another. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t cry, I was helpless. The only thing I could do was hope he was wrong, and death would take me anyway.

The sound of the shower door opening startled me, my mind still somewhat fuzzy, stuck between memory and reality. The water stopped, I felt a towel wrapping around me, arms lifting me from the wet floor.

When I fully came to my senses, I was in Victor’s arms, his face close to mine, whispering. It was then that I realized I was gasping for air.

“Deep breaths.” I heard his voice in my ear, while he rocked me back and forth. “Take deep breaths, Andy.”

I couldn’t stop the sobs that followed, making me shake violently. Victor held on tight to me, and I grabbed the fabric of his shirt like my life depended on it, wanting to escape the memory.

After seeing I was more relaxed, he helped me dress and laid me in bed.

“Talk to me.” He urged, as he pulled the comforter over me. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I just want to sleep.” My voice was weak as raspy, barely audible.

His hand rested on my back and lingered, as he seemed to ponder on what to do. After a moment, I felt the mattress rise as his weight left it, and I heard the sound of the door closing softly behind him. He came to the room numerous times, checking up on me. I pretended to be asleep in every single one of them, until he eventually grew tired of it and woke me up, stroking my curls.

“Your mother is on the phone, she wants to talk to you.” I opened my eyes, and his phone came into my line of sight.

“Tell her I’m sleeping.” I covered my head with the comforter.

“You need to talk to someone.” Victor’s voice had lost all his softness. “If not me, your mother. Take the phone.” He almost ordered.

“I said I don’t want to talk to her.” I turned my back. “Stop pressuring me.”

Victor unmuted his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“I’m sorry, Mariana, she’s asleep. I’ll tell her to call you later.”

I closed my eyes again, waiting for him to leave.

“You’re avoiding your mother now?” He scolded me.

“I’m not avoiding anyone, I just want to be left alone. Is that so difficult to understand?” I buried myself under the comforter.

“Yes, you are. You are avoiding your mother and you are avoiding me. Don’t think I don’t know you were pretending to be asleep every time I came to the room. You can’t deal with this all by yourself Andy, you need to speak up.”

I got up from the bed, running to the door, trying to avoid a discussion. I didn’t have it in me to fight. I was too weak. But before I could reach it, Victor pushed my back against the wall, resting his hands on it, blocking any exit for me. I was trapped.

“Victor, please, just let me go!” I begged, tears already forming in my eyes.

“I will not.” He spoke assertively. “Not until you talk to me.”

I looked down, avoiding his gaze. His forehead pressed on mine.

“Don’t hide from me, Andrea. Please.”

I felt the bad blood rising fast, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the frustration and the anguish of the past days came full force in one single wave, and before I could help it, it was spilling all over.

“What do you want me to tell you, Victor?” I felt so enraged I just wanted to scream at his face. “That I’m a horrible person that can’t even be happy for her friend? That I’m consumed by bitterness and jealousy? Or that I feel guilty for having let that piece of shit into my life, and take everything I held dear? Can you possibly understand what that’s like? He won, Victor. You are already paying the price for my bad decisions, I can’t let you pick up the pieces too.”

Victor grabbed my face with his hands, looking at me with piercing eyes.

“You are not a terrible person and you are not responsible for what happened to you. I understand this can be hard for you, but don’t avoid the people that love you. Talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk!” I yelled, frustrated. “I need normalcy, I need to feel like I’m not about to break, and I need space! I’ll figure it out by myself. Just let me figure it out by myself.”

Victor looked down, seemingly trying to hold himself back. After a moment, he let me go, walking away in frustration.

“What am I supposed to do then, sit idly as I watch you crumble to pieces? Pretend I don’t hear you cry? I will not see you like this and do nothing!“ He lifted his left hand, showing me his wedding ring. “I made a vow I have every intention to keep. In the good times and the bad, remember? It’s my duty as a husband to be at your side at all times, why won’t you let me?” He paused, looking down again. “Am I not good enough?”

His question felt like a bucket of ice dropping on me, freezing me to the core. In my mind’s eye, I could remember all the times I urged him to open up to me, worried about him. I could remember how I felt unwanted every time he pushed me back. Now, I was doing the same. I broke down sobbing, and immediately I felt my husband's arms around me, steadying me. Like they always did.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!” I pulled him tightly to me, taking the strength he was offering me. “You are more than enough, please don’t think otherwise. You are the man that I love, I need you.” I nudged his chest, letting all my anguish finally out, unrestrained. “I’m so sorry, Victor, please forgive me.”

“I’m here, my light, don’t cry.” He whispered softly in my ear, one hand holding the back of my head, the other running soothingly in my back. “All will be well, I promise. You are safe in my arms.”

#growingtogether #Growing Pains - Series #victor x oc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #mister love dream date #love and producer

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eclectic-wisdom-bat · 3 years

Photo

Before I really get into it, I’d like to add, about 2-3 weeks before the first photo, I was weighing in at about 310lbs.

The first time my chronic nausea started was about 4 years ago. I was working full time, part of that time as supervisor. It started out as nausea, or just a simply upset stomach. And then it quickly got worse, I started throwing up every day that I worked. Plus bad nausea on my days off. And then, I was throwing up when I woke up, before going to work, several times at work, and then I’d be nausea once I got home until I went to bed. In around 6 months I lost about 20 pounds. Nothing major, I told my family doctor, and nothing more came of it.

Fast forward to November 2020. Seemingly out of nowhere it started back up again. 310 pounds. December 22, 2020 weighed myself. I had dropped about 20 pounds, putting me at 290lbs. Now, less than 3 months later, I have lost almost another 30 more pounds.

I lose about 10 pounds a month, on average. From not eating, being nauseous all the time, and throwing about roughly 3-7 times a week.

The worst part? Back in January I told my family doctor about it coming back. She referred me to a specialist so I can get started in finding out what the actual fuck is wrong with me. Two months later, still haven’t even heard from them.

And yes, I understand that it is covid, and there are more important medical things going on. But I’m coming on 50 pounds in 4-5 months. I know I am a larger woman to start with. But I am NOT trying to lose the weight this fast. I’m worried about my esophageal system. Plus, I’m worried about the long term effects this will have on my mental health and relationship with food.

Even on good days, I don’t eat. I had to buy smoothie stuff so that at least I am intaking healthier liquid calories. I was up until last week only drinking ginger ale and juice. But still, I’m only drinking one smoothie once a day, once every two days.

Though, if I’m going to be super fucking honest, which I am! I do kind of fucking love the weight loss. I’ve always found it so fucking hard to get rid of the (too many) extra pounds and now I’m dripping them off like sweat dripping off a hooker in church. I’ve never felt so fucking hot. My stomach hangs less, my thighs are fitter, my arms are smaller. My ass is firmer. My face has slimmed down. The confidence I already had has skyrocketed. And I feel kind of guilty for how great I feel in regards to the body image portion.

#may be triggering #trigger warning #content warning #chronically ill #tw weight #chronic illness #diary #tumblr diary

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zukofenty · 4 years

Text

FWU

➜ Summary: The one where Katara (is sure) she's in love with the campus drug dealer.

“Sokka, I swear! He’s not a drug dealer...he’s just an unlicensed pharmacist!”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, DrugDealer!Zuko

➜ Words: 2.5k

➜ Warnings: I will fight Katara for DrugDealer!Zuko 😩

AO3

“We got the goods!” Katara squeals, throwing down flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a sack of marijuana.

Suki picks it up, sniffing the plastic bag. “This shit is loud and clear.” Her smile is dangerously devious. “Thanks, Zuko! This is going to be the best 4/20 ever!” Suki immediately begins to grab the proffered ingredients, shuffling them to the kitchen. She’s already taking some of the buds and putting them on a tray to prep in the oven. “Who knew fingering a drug dealer’s asshole would come in handy?”

Zuko immediately turns beet red. “Why do you keep telling people that happened?” Katara slaps Suki upside the head.

“Because I like seeing the two of you squirm, sue me!” Suki admits, shrugging her shoulders and dodging Toph’s slap to her ass.

Katara collapses on her futon, positively spent after spending the day helping Zuko drop off sacks for his clients, while buying all the ingredients they needed for baking edibles to celebrate the holiday.

“Zuko, what the fuck are you doing!” Katara screams, almost losing grip of the wheel.

“How about you make sure your fucking Prius doesn’t eat shit?” Zuko screeches, coming back to his seat after sticking his entire body out the hybrid car.

Katara smacks her forehead. The pain where she hit is almost as bad as the frustration she feels. “This is the exact fucking reason I never get Chipotle with you!” She sees the car that was formerly beside her pulled over at the side of the freeway, the driver clearly angry with how hard he was pounding the pavement with his fist. His entire body is covered in Zuko’s half chicken half barbacoa burrito bowl.

“I’m not going to lie, that was impressive. The NFL’s vag must be positively pulsating,” Katara deadpans, rubbing at her temples to relieve the pressure from forming. Sokka always said her road rage was the worst he’s ever seen, but alas her shouting and occasionally flipping people off could never compare to Zuko’s hotheadedness. Her gut feeling about grabbing an extra bowl paid off, much to her dismay. This was not a rare occurrence. “How did you manage to throw your entire bowl through the crack of his window?”

“Well, the NFL can go eat a dick!” Zuko says, wiping his hands on a Chipotle napkin before taking a sip from his water cup filled to the brim with their lemonade. “And the shit dick had it coming.” He did, Zuko swears. It’s completely his fault for not only playing Michael Buble as loud as his Honda Accord was capable of, but also refusing to use his turn signal, and then screaming “fuck you, pussy hoe!” when Katara honked at him. That bitch.

“Right. Anyways, I’m recalling a conversation we had I think...yes! Two days ago. You’re still thinking about going to therapy, right? You’re moving on from your designated therapy toad?”

Zuko fully turns to face Katara. He accidentally bumps his head on the roof, and proceeds to smack it. “First of all, what makes you say that? Second of all, you know Frank has a name!”

“Not your anger issues, of course.” She doesn’t miss his eye roll. “Also, when you gave me your phone so I could text your uncle that you were going to pick him up, I went through your Youtube search history. Because I care. You deserve better than boxed hair dye tutorials, Zuko. I know you can do better.” At the red light, she grabs Zuko’s shoulder in an almost caring manner. He slaps her tiny hand away.

Zuko was certain he was spending this 4/20 positively baked , so while he waited for everyone to wash their hands so they could whip up his favorite Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies edibles (with a gooey marshmallow middle), he took out his grinder from his hoodie’s pocket.

He grabs at the Sailor Moon bong he bought Katara for the one month anniversary of the time she saved him from being beaten to death by a group of frat brothers. She didn’t nearly like using marijuana as much her friends did, insisting on her maintaining her brain and lung health. She’d never admit to enjoying the cannabliss that came with huffing and puffing out some Mary Jane, but Zuko knows her sleepy smile after taking a hit lets her sleep just the slightest bit better.

Especially now that she’s working nonstop to pay off her tuition this semester. While Sokka was efficiently loaded, his record label was going through a rough patch after a scandal with one of their artists. Apparently, having viral toe sucking videos reflected badly on you as a person, and a number of investors pulled out after the news broke. Sokka was dipping into emergency savings, about to sell the Bugatti, but Katara insisted on taking on a few part time jobs. It breaks Zuko’s heart when he’s the first one to come home to her apartment, even after doing his runs for the night. She’s always blearly, insisting on taking a “quick nap” before she takes off her makeup. He likes feeling useful, when she instantly falls asleep and he’s the one using Micellar Water and a cotton pad to rub off her stubborn mascara of the day.

“I will literally curb stomp the Dean for you,” Zuko tells her, the fire behind his words that makes Katara doubt it was a passing joke.

“Zuko. No.”

He remembers being woken up in the middle of the night, Katara whispering into her phone. He invested in the Sailor Moon pipe after he found out she could only sleep a few hours, before being woken up abruptly from the stress weighing on her mind (her dark circles betrayed her). “I started seeing someone,” Katara mutters, checking over her shoulder to see if Zuko was still sound asleep. She started wincing at the palpable silence that followed.

“As in dating or hallucinations?” Sokka questions, much too loud for her taste.

She sighs. “Don’t get like this! He’s a good guy, I promise. His name’s Zuko.” She hears shuffling on the other side of the line, after the prominent thunk of the phone dropping. “Why does that name sound so familiar? And so colonizer-like…” His voice is filled with suspicion, and she could almost see the cogs in his brain whirring to life. Before she could utter another word, her brother abruptly yelps. “Isn’t he the drug dealer who got beat up on campus?”

Katara sucks in a breath. “How do you know about that?”

“I read the Campus Crime Alert emails the school sends out, idiot! For such an expensive school, you would think they would have better security and less laptop snatchings. By the way, we need to buy you a laptop lock. You still have that self defense knife I sent you?” Sokka angrily whispers in the phone, mocking Katara’s quiet tone.

“Yes, dad !” She hears his irate protests as she flips her body to face Zuko. He looks a few years younger when he sleeps, breathing even and face forgetting the patented scowl. His bare chest and sweatpants hanging low on his hips were enticing. His hair was almost perfectly positioned, the strands messy and unruly but just screamed Zuko . The dangly cross earring doing too much to her heart. Down girl, down! Katara tells her pussy. “Sokka, I swear! He’s not a drug dealer...he’s just an unlicensed pharmacist!”

“I have the email right here! Right here! And tell me what about ‘student being violently attacked due to drug related incidents ’ doesn’t scream drug dealer getting beat up for drug dealing !” Katara bites down on her tongue, whether to hold back a laugh or scream she wasn’t completely sure.

Suki takes a hit from her Hello Kitty dab pen, a white, bedazzled one that Zuko had gotten her. Toph and Katara also had matching Hello Kitty dab pens, in green and blue respectively. She thinks Zuko has one in red, too. She added a second layer of soy lecithin to the weed infused mixture, before popping it in the oven again for another 30 mins.

In the meantime, Katara was preparing the ingredients for the cookies. Zuko’s laying on the ground, narrowly missing the futon, eyes glazed over. He hasn’t moved in the past twenty minutes. “Katara, that isn’t the hand mixer, that’s your vibrator .” Suko gently chastises, moving the device from her lax hands. Katara always complained her hands were numb when she was high, and once dropped a mug from their balcony after they packed a bowl together for the first time. Suki is still bitter. It was her favorite Gudetama mug.

After freezing the mixture for two hours, Suki, Toph, and Zuko were hard at work, mixing ingredients, and preparing to get fucked up. A few people have stopped by the apartment to exchange plastic bags for cash.

“Are you turning Katara’s apartment into a dispensary? ” Toph is absolutely incredulous.

“That’s a loaded question with an answer very much open to interpretation…” Zuko ducks the house slipper Toph propels to his face.

Katara has a dumb smile on her face, wide and threatening to split her head open. She’s an avid texter when she’s baked.

Katara: What are you doing right now? Come over! Zuko’s got apology weed for you <3

Jet: I’m at McDonald’s!! Kinda of high lol

Katara: Ooo you got the munchies?

Jet: Nah

Katara: how come?

Jet: I smoke meth lmaoooo

“Who are you texting?” Zuko asks, plopping next to her spot on the floor. She’s sprawled out, hair every which way and tangling into already unruly knots he’s going to have to detangle in the morning for her. Because Katara’s a lightweight, and suffers from weed hangovers regularly. Zuko’s already recovered from his many hits at the Moon Stick pipe.

“Did you know Jet smokes meth?”

Zuko rolls his eyes, curling up and trapping Katara with his outstretched embrace. “I really thought he would like my I’m sorry weed.”

“Me too.” He kisses the pout off of her.

Katara steadily crawls up (Zuko doesn’t miss her sleep shorts riding up) and tries her best to help Toph mix the marshmallow and Cinnamon Toast crunch mixture being heated up in their big pot they stole from Katara’s neighbor.

When Katara grabs the hand mixer to try assisting the cookie batter, Zuko knew he had to intervene lest something explodes. She smiles when he surrounds her with his body, the warm weight of his chest against her back and his hand wrapping around hers on the mixing device.

He loves her, he’s sure. Even while they roll the cookies together she tries to be funny (when she clearly knows she isn’t) and throws the dough at him, and it lands in his hair. He’s sure she peed herself with how hard she was laughing and scrambling to find the bathroom when her eyes could barely open.

Zuko shuts down his phone when the sweet scent of the pastries flood his nostrils. Even if 4/20 is like his version of Christmas, he’s determined to spend it with his girl. “I think my pussy just gave out. That shit looks dank ,” Katara squeals, shaking Toph by the shoulders to emphasize her point.

“Thanks for the visual,” Toph says, looking devious and wholly prepared to get stoned.

“I could beat his ass if I needed to,” Katara loudly whispers in Suki’s ear. At this point, they were all laying down on the floor, the familiar tingle of an impending high at the forefront of their minds.

“Katara, you’re staring at a poster of 11 year old Frankie Muniz.” Suki shakes the girl off her. “Why do you always say that about any guy you see, sober or not?”

Zuko’s the most sober of them all, but based on the fact he killed a few joints on his own, he thinks he’s about to die. Toph’s on the balcony, weary of the smoke detector. She comes back in after repeatedly coughing, pounding at her chest to lessen the pain. She promptly lays on the floor with the rest of them, stupidly smiling.

Zuko sits, leaning on the futon for support. He pulls Katara into his lap, and she’s pliant, immediately melting in his hold. Hands coming out to wrap around his neck. “Check your school portal,” he says into her ear. She laughs at the sensation.

“Why?” She’s breathless, when he rubs comforting circles into her back. Zuko finds her phone, thrown carelessly on the futon, before gingerly handing it to her. After she types in the login information, she gasps, the sound reverberating through the room. Zuko blushes, and rubs the back of his neck gingerly.

“Happy 4/20, baby,” he presses a sweet kiss to her hair, wiping away the pricks of tears appearing at her eyes.

“ You’re lying !” She couldn’t believe her eyes, and thinks she’s a little dizzy from how many times she zooms in and out of the tuition financial statement. “You’re fucking lying!” The bill, formerly with a nauseating number of zeros was now only $0.00. “How?” she splutters, even spitting in her haste.

“Toph knew your portal login, so I just kind of...paid it off?” He’s doing the thing where he’s rubbing at his neck and looking shy, and so so positively adorable . The sheepish look he gives her makes it known that she was screwed . So absolutely in love. “I want you to not worry about it. Save the money from your job for something else.” The kiss she slams against his lips nearly knocks his breath away.

“So what’s your plan, after paying all this off?” Zuko remembered Toph asking, after she entered Katara's password.

“After this, she’s catching all this ball juice. Going to suck her eggs out her ovaries like it’s boba. I’ll even use the straw and everything,” Zuko says, entering the pin of his debit card.

“You know what. She should have let you die that night.”

“Who knew there would be perks to dating a drug dealer?” Toph teases. “Girls be so single and then boom ! Baby shower pictures with some drug dealer in a Burberry shirt and Nike Air Maxes.”

Suki groans. “Toph, I swear. You are a hindrance to society.”

“Well, you’re a cunt!”

She shoves the smaller girl. She gets up to face Katara, still staring at her phone in shock. Her hair is a bird’s nest after growing two sizes two large and painfully matted. “You know, we thought we were bad friends for letting you date a drug dealer with mommy and daddy issues. We just sat there and prayed that our ‘we’re so happy for you guys!’ was convincing. But, I kind of like him.”

“Thanks for the support,” Zuko grumbles.

“Anytime!” The two say, perfectly synchronized.

“Like MJ doctor, they killing me,” Zuko sighs, dropping his head in the crook of her neck, defeated. Katara’s heart nearly bursts because he’s so cute . A big bad drug dealer, but she still was squeezing at his cheeks like they were mochi, and he was dumbly smiling back.

“Why do you always quote Nicki Minaj lyrics when you’re high?” She thinks she can’t feel her face, the excessive smiling numbing her features.

He’s bombed, stomach growling from getting the munchies and devouring an entire box of Suki’s Wheat Thins cereal and he thinks he feels his heart about to explode. Whether it’s Katara’s sweet, sweet smile, or her body pressing to his, he’s not sure. She’s soft and perfect and everything he could have asked for. He’s sure he’s in love, the type of love that was dangerous and stupid and promised to consume him whole. Yet, he’s all but offered his heart on a silver platter to Katara. Her presence in his life was a constant he was willing to fight to keep.

“I love you,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I know.” She stares into his eyes, before grabbing his hand. “I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

She pokes his chest in protest.

“Say it again, please?” Zuko begs, voice whiny. Her kiss was an adequate confirmation of the sentiment.

#zutara fanfiction #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #zutara fanfic #zutara #atla

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ericleo108 · 4 years

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Video Journal 02/13/20 - Published 108

Hey, welcome to the Journal for Thursday, February 13th, 2020 “Published 108.”

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My name is Eric Leo, I’m a sociologist, social psychologist, philosopher, author, and hip-hop artist and this is my journal where I talk about myself and my philosophy!

108 Book

I published my book. I have received copies and everything looks good. You can buy “108 The Story of Discovering Earth’s Consciousness” online through my publisher at Author House. Thank you for your support. I wish I had money to invest in promoting it but I don’t. I’m going to try and send some copies to select people and promote it to other blogs.

Moving, Diet, and Exercise

I moved into my own apartment at the beginning of January. I am much happier. My mother helped me get settled, afford basic necessities, and some work out equipment. She bought me a Bowflex 5.1 work-out bench and 552 series select-tech dumbbells. I work out 4-5 days per week.

On February 12th I weighed 242.4 pounds, so I’ve lost about 8 pounds since December 30th, 2019 when I weighed 250 pounds. I’ve lost less weight than I expected but I’ve been working out so I’ve probably been gaining muscle and muscle weighs more than fat. I just started taking measurements of my chest, stomach, and butt to make sure I’m making progress. I know I’ve been making progress because my pants fit better.

I started biking on my budget Peloton. I started out at 10 minutes per day and it was hard. I increased it by 5 minutes every week. Now I’m up to 30 minutes on the bike on days I work out. I put on a playlist of the late shows from the previous night and watch them while I ride. I have a pretty good system down. It keeps me motivated and gives me structure but is also why I don’t work out on Sundays and Mondays because there was no late show the previous night. I’ve been drinking my GFuel every morning as a pre-workout.

After I get done with the bike I do a muscle group of weight lifting like chest, back, shoulders, legs, or arms. I’ve been keeping myself sore. I had an issue with my right arm feeling pain but I stretched my peck and got a check-up at physical therapy and all has been well. All systems are a go.

I used to exercise like crazy in high school and college and was, what most would consider, ripped. I still have a lot of the muscle underneath all my fat and I plan to get back to being ripped. I hope to get a chin-up bar and gravity boots to do pull-ups and inverted sit-ups after I get below 200 lbs… like I also used to do back in the day.

I’m on Atkins or a ketogenic diet, it has been a lot better for my acid reflux. I keep a calorie deficit on my diet while staying in ketosis. I’ll cheat with carbs every other weekend. I try not to cheat on calories. I don’t count calories like I used too back in 2017 although I guestimate often. I probably get around 1000-1500 calories per day, burn 3-500 calories working out with 50-60 grams of protein, which I understand is less protein than recommended. My biggest concern is getting enough protein for my workouts and to maintain muscle mass as I lose weight. I stay in ketosis so my body burns fat and not muscle. I do intermittent-fasting and only eat between 1 and 9 pm, usually. I eat a lot of nuts, cheese, pickles, greens, carrots, protein powder, eggs, chicken, and diet pop.

Stem Cells

I recently saw Joe Rogan’s podcast #1066 about stem cells. I didn’t know it could be used to cure autoimmune diseases. I also didn’t know it could be used to regrow tissue like in tendons.

I personally got excited when I heard about the capabilities of stem cells. In 2010 I had a scope on my knee for a multi-lateral meniscus tear. It hurts most days by the end of the day. So I looked into getting an injection of my stem cells to regrow my meniscus and it’s not covered by medicare because it’s not yet approved by the FDA. I can’t afford the 5-7 thousand dollars it would cost to get the procedure. I’m disappointed in America but hope it will be approved and available within the next couple of years.

Living On Disability

I look forward to having a conversation with the nurses that work at St. Joseph Community Mental Health when I get my shot each month. I still don’t have Hulu, I can’t afford it yet. I plan on canceling my audible subscription this month to save some money. They’ll pull me back in eventually with another free trial like they always do.

My credit score dropped 12 points from 807 to 795 since December 20th, 2019 because I have a couple of hundred dollars on my credit card after buying that GFuel, audio interface, and moving expenses. Like I explored in the last journal when you only live on several hundred dollars a month and can’t make much extra money it’s hard to afford much. I have been utilizing the local food bank to save money on groceries. I’m on a spending freeze until I get it paid off. I’m focused on paying off the balance. This means spending little to no money on gas. I really want my credit score above 800 again.

I can’t smoke weed in my apartment without being evicted so I’ve basically quit after years of daily smoking. I only smoke with friends away from my apartment now; usually about every other weekend. Apparently, I can have a cat if I want one though.

Make America Think Harder

I want to vote for Bernie Sanders as long as he wins the primary and it seems like he will. My second choice is tied for Yang or Warren but I would be happy with Buttigieg. I’m not a fan of Trump, although I respect the president, I will be voting for whatever Democrat wins the primary. Besides being with Emma Watson, there’s nothing I want more than Bernie to win the primary and election.

It’s worth mentioning I support term limits for congress and the supreme court. They should have to live with the laws they enact in the private and public sectors whichever they choose to pursue after their term. I also think they should be paid retirement wages from social security and have the same healthcare from social security just like everybody else. If they want to improve their standing while in office, they have to do it for everybody.

The last journal I said I wanted to be a professor. I am also thinking about being a real estate broker or agent, get my real estate license, and also build wealth through real estate investing. It will probably take me a year or two for me to get where I want to be health-wise and solidify what I want to do. Both being a professor or real estate guru has been an appealing career for me for a while. I would be happy with either or both and could still pursue being an author and hip-hop artist.

In Conclusion

Check out the Treatise and Journal Description List

Thank you for being here Thank you for watching, Thank you for being a part of my family You're awesome! I love you very much

#Published 108 #book #published #stem cell therapy #BowFlex #Bernie Sanders #exercise #keto #ketogenic diet #atkins #losing weight

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eallisnwndrlnd · 4 years

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A New Year. A New Decade.

As I type away, only a couple of hours to go to lead us into not only a new year but a new decade. So many memorable moments that happened this year…some good…some not so much.

2019, a year that began with anxiety and stress as I began my final semester and final year of college and ended it with uncertainty of what the next year will bring with a bit of hope that things will get better.

As I begin to reflect on my 2019, I note that even with all my downs I had a lot more ups and so much to be thankful for this year. As some of my family and friends had many new joys to celebrate there are others near and dear that also suffered a lot of hardships and loss this year. For them I hope that this New Year will bring hope, joy, peace and many more blessings.

I stressed over my academic performance as my college years were coming to a close. As I lost myself in my thesis and trying to complete it and finding that pulling my hair strand by strand may have been less painful of a process. The stress of personal issues happening at home, my deepening depression, and self-inflicted stress from school, led to me smoking a ciggy after being more than 2 years smoke free. Albeit only two lung cancer sticks, but still a moment of succumbing to my go-to distressing vice. I was, however, more determined than ever to survive my senior year being on top. With many late, tiring nights I worked towards ending on a high note. And boy did I. After having graduating high school 19 years ago, I, Ethni, at 37 years of age FINALLY graduated college…as a foreign student…with honors to boot! Can you believe it folks? I actually managed to graduate cum laude. Holy mother of fruitloops, how the frak did I even do that and not go bald? An academic acknowledgement I never dreamed possible four years ago when I started my first year of college. An honor that I can solely chuck up to hard work and determination no matter how much I lacked in confidence or ability. Alas, I finally completed a long held dream to obtain a college degree even if it took me a long time to get there. Of course the dream initially was graduating back home years ago in my dream school NYU-Tish, but hey, there are moments when dreams and goals change depending on what cards you’re dealt with and how you deal with them.

This year I was able to go back home for a visit after being away for five years. Oh how I missed my family and friends and OMG the FOOD. (the latter gifted me 20 extra pounds to take back to the Philippines) As I went back to visit the people nearest and dearest to my heart, unfortunately not having enough time to see all of them, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. How much has changed in just those five years amazed me. I felt so odd when I visited my old workplace. I hardly remembered the halls I once roamed for three years. It felt so much farther back in time than it was that it almost felt like a dream rather than actual memories. I also found some odd connection to my hometown of Los Angeles that I don’t remember ever having in all the time that I lived there. Perhaps being away for as long I had gave me some new perspective of my birthplace that was something other than being at odds with it and not feeling like I belonged. Basically I can say I don’t hate L.A. as much as I did when I was so desperate to move away from it.

After graduating, I had so many things I still needed to complete before I could even begin to search for my new direction in life. I had to change my student visa status which was a trying and pricey task. I had to finalize the printing and binding of my thesis which I finally managed to do only a month ago…ahh ever the procrastinator that I, at times, can be.

As a part of my student visa downgrading tasks of having to deport myself briefly and return with tourist visa status, I was able to check off yet another goal of mine from my ever changing and growing bucket list. My ma and I made a three day vacation of it in Tokyo, Japan. This was a city I had wanted to visit for years but had to work at convincing my mom to let our trip itinerary be in Tokyo. With her memories of WW2 as a child, I couldn’t really blame her but thankfully she finally said yes. Tokyo is a remarkable city with a lot of history and traditions. We found the Japanese people to be some of the most respectful, disciplined, welcoming and helpful people we ever had the honor of meeting throughout our travels. There were a handful of standout moments like where one young lady even walked opposite of her direction to help show us where our hotel was. I definitely will make plans to return one day but for longer than the three days we were there and make sure that I go to Mount Fuji.

Out of what I had hoped to accomplish from what I wrote last new year, I only managed to check off a few but hey, we all know that even one being checked off is practically a miracle for many of us.

I did get to learn a new language, bombarding my phone with language apps. I have managed to nearly memorize the Hangul alphabet. Now I just need to start memorizing the actual vocabulary and I’ll be good. I can now at least read several of the ingredients on Korean cosmetics and skincare products. I have also added some words in Chinese, Japanese, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, German, Gaelic, and Russian. (I tried Arabic but I need a one on one assistance with that one rather than an app) In one or two more years I hope to at least be mediocre in my ability to speak and understand Korean while learning a few more words from other languages. Of course I sometimes get confused as hell mixing up foreign words and their translations in my head. Some Chinese leaks into Korean sentences and Portuguese gets muddled with Spanish, Italian and French. The proper pronunciations and accents also get flipped around. I already had this issue with my second language, Tagalog, finding itself mixed in with my first language of English (U.S.) With my memory issues also adding to this problem, I may find myself one day accidentally saying a multilingual sentence without realizing it. I already have a bad habit of going Taglish around people who only understand the English part.

I did cook and bake a lot more this year than I did last year to the point that my mother is complaining that I am spending too much money and time on ingredients for my baked concoctions. I even took the time to cook vegan dishes for much of my school lunches during my last semester. I did love to bake more often than cooking this year thus partly to blame for my added weight gain…

As one recent unsolicited comment from a male FB acquaintance said…”u really fat” Yes, darlin’, thank you so much for that ‘oh so keen’ observation (FYI I have a mirror and a plucking scale of my own. I don’t need input I didn’t ask for nor need. Ever heard the phrase “if you ain’t got nothing nice to say...shut tf up”?) . As he so gracefully put it, yes I’ll admit I added a bit more junk in my trunk this year rather than shedding it. And? Yeah so I admit, I piled on the dessert and snacks and revisited my obsession with video games that had me mimic the physical actions of a sloth or an overly blubbered seal to the point that I nearly gave myself tennis elbow and the posture of Igor. It also didn’t help that my fybro kept flaring up on and off this year which made me feel like a Golden Girl could take me down in one fell swoop and outrun me. Not to mention my constant and annoying friend that is called clinical depression and chronic anxiety that kept nipping at my heels that I’m lucky that I can even act like a functioning human most of the time. The fact that I can tell my inner negative voice to shut the duck up most of the time and ignore it, as well as wishing to not wake up at all only twice this year is a frakking miracle in itself. (Seriously though...what is up with some people that feel the need to foist their shallow insights on those that did not solicit it. And the added ludicrousness that sometimes this is supposed to lead into a flirt-on...I mean what kind of hells bells reverse psychology load of horse manure is that?)

Unfortunately I did not read any books this year but I did read more news articles and try to keep myself up to date on current events. (and try tried to stay sane while reading them)

My writing progress stalled and I only have a long list of story ideas to show from it. There is one story I recently started outlining that I find hopeful. I think it has the legs to be a decent script if I can manage to focus on its development. That will be a big focus this coming year…to gain some momentum in my writing.

(currently being distracted by the onslaught of illegal fireworks popping in my neighborhood, hoping my house and neighborhood manages to survive these irresponsible idiots.)

The promise to keep up with my daily checklist died a hollow death early on in the year with my senior year and thesis weighing me down from being able to stay consistent. Well there’s always next year.

Sadly I didn’t get any higher in Gurushots but I did get one of my shot viewed along with other peoples work at a showing. Yay for the small things!

I did sell several of my clothes and accessories but still way more to go before I can say I am done. Like a HEEP load. Every time I see some clothes I want to buy I have to keep repeating “no more clothes” over and over again. I just try to picture Hasan Minhaj’s piece on fast fashion to control those horrible habits of mine.

Even though I didn’t successfully check off a lot of what I wanted to complete for this year, I still look back to this year as a decent one even with my ever present depression and anxiety looming over me. Dude, I graduated college, I learned a new language, and I knocked off Tokyo from my bucket list. I think that was enough to make my year above meh and almost a big YAY!

As I near the close of this annual report of mine, I list these goals and hopes not set in stone but in rainbows (oh yes I just went there into ridiculousness!!!)

May I find a job I actually like rather than what I just deem as a necessary obligation to obtain a paycheck.

I will learn enough Korean to be able to legitimately claim that I am multilingual.

Finish reading the books that I have collected on my shelf before I leave the Philippines.

Cook and bake with a bit more flair and add more complicated dishes to my repertoire.

Sell and clear out more of my shit to prepare me for our move back stateside if all goes according to plan.

If I manage to shed enough off my caboose to fit in the jeans I already own that will be a small victory in itself and the only goal that deals with my rollipollies for the year. If any extra manages to come off along the way that’ll be just an added bonus.

Hitting reset on my daily checklist and will do my best to let it last longer than last year (I can say that now as it is currently past midnight and officially 2020 in my neck of the woods)

If I do move back stateside this year I will start saving towards my future goal of getting me a tiny home. (Seriously the perfect solution to my wanting a permanent home but not a permanent address and thus my added reason to shed the burden of most of my crap)

Complete my story outline and treatment and finalize the first draft of a 45 minute script.

Delve a bit more into my art and photography as well.

Get more sleep…(crappy sleeping habits I can lay blame to my current gaming and ongoing kdrama addiction and mindless internet browsing habits)

Begin volunteering once again.

With my final moving destination still unknown dependent on the job prospects I get, pretty sure I won’t be able to mark off any other travel destinations or adventures for the coming year.

Just be healthier not only in body but in mind and soul overall. I need to work on alleviating my health issues that aggravate my fybro as well as my anxiety. If my brain could shut the frak up and calm the frak down, and keep my ma’s schizophrenic outbursts and episodes to no more than an hour a day at least once in a while would be oh so lovely.

As long as I keep going and progress even in baby steps I will eventually get there.

For those that know me and my political ideology, they know what I especially hope for this year. Please oh please if there are any actual deities that exist or even if there isn’t…please let that outcome be a good one.

Now I end my annual New Year musings with a Happy New Years greeting to everyone. May we all find good and peace in this new year and may we have a better decade than the last one.

Goodbye 2019, I can’t say I’ll really miss thee. And goodbye to another decade.

Hello 2020, be better dammit and I promise that I will strive towards making it a positive and productive one for me, my family, my friends and with that, some decent contribution to this world we all live in.

#happynewyear #newyearsresolution #newyears2020 #goals

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