#i am experiencing extreme brain rot help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarcasticsra · 8 months

Text

Excuse me a moment while I YELL INTO THE FUCKING VOID.

Vyvanse is having shortage issues now. Had to call my pharmacy because I hadn’t gotten a notification on that one and wanted to see if there was an issue. Evidently yes, the issue is that it is out of stock and they don’t know when they’ll get it again.

I hate everything about how we handle ADHD meds in this stupid fucking country. Because now I have to either hope they have it in soon or call around to the other five pharmacies in town to see if they have it, and if they do, then I have to call my doctor to get an entirely new prescription sent, and THEN I have to call my original pharmacy back to have them cancel the old prescription in their system so the new pharmacy can fill it.

Why? Because it’s a schedule 2 drug and that means they can’t just transfer the fucking prescription.

Why? Because the War on Drugs has rotted our collective societal consciousness.

Why? Because there’s not a single fucking moral panic this godforsaken country won’t embrace with open arms, I swear to god.

So naturally that means we had to put the fucking drug cops in charge of medication quotas. And as we all know: ACAB.

“There’s so many new prescriptions!!! Zomg!!! Who knows if they’re legitimate because they were prescribed via telehealth!!!”

Oh wow so this disorder that makes it extremely hard to sustain and regulate attention and thus makes it difficult to do routine things like setting up doctor’s appointments (oftentimes multiple appointments) and then remembering them and getting to them on time… that somehow got diagnosed way more when we took away some of those obstacles? Madness! Witchcraft! Sorcery!

Before I was diagnosed/medicated there were literally days where I couldn’t even get out of bed. I would be laying there, staring at the ceiling, yelling at myself in my head to get up, get up, get up, you need to go to work, get. up. goddammit… to no avail.

Vyvanse has literally given me my fucking brain back. I can look at a task and think, “hmm, I should do that,” and then I just fucking do it. Do you know how many weeks’ worth of laundry I used to have just laying around in baskets because forcing myself to put it away was literally impossible? Do you know how fucking painful it is to look at a task that you have failed to complete, over and over, a simple task, a stupid task, you should just be able to do this, why can’t you just fucking do this…

I think people who have never experienced this can’t truly understand how horrific it feels to have to fight your brain on every. single. thing. Every single task is a calculation: can I do that now, if I don’t do that now will I be able to do that later, wait I already have to do task X and once I do that there’s no way I’ll have the mental energy to force myself to do task Y too. It’s like trying to get your work done on a computer with 80% of its resources being bogged down by bloatware. Can you get some things done? Sure, probably a few. But it’s going to take you three times as long and if you’re not careful the whole system will freeze and you’ll get absolutely nothing accomplished, and oh yeah, it’ll be wildly fucking frustrating the entire goddamn time.

It just absolutely infuriates me that we’re so fucking scared of the potential for “drug abuse” that we fuck over everyone, as if drug abuse is somehow the biggest moral failing in the world. Maybe if we addressed some of the things that lead to it, there would be less of it! Maybe just criminalizing everything is stupid, counterproductive, does not help in any measurable way, and oftentimes just makes everything worse!

And not for nothing, but if not for the truly incredible insurance I am lucky to have through work, getting diagnosed would have cost me $1200. My husband and I are doing well enough that we probably could’ve managed that in a couple installments, but for a large percentage of people, that prices them right out. And I live in a very low cost of living area. I can’t imagine what it costs elsewhere. How many of those “abusing” these meds just actually fucking need them but can’t afford to get them prescribed? Because even after the initial diagnosis, my first scrip cost $230 thanks to a deductible, and then $40/month after that. $40 isn’t awful, but there are plenty of people who do not have an extra $40 per month. (And my copay is on the lower end. I’ve seen people with insurance saying they’ve had to pay $200+ every month.) And then you have to have regular meds check ups, every 2 months or so. So add another $200 for each of those without insurance.

I’m extremely fortunate that the place I work not only offers great insurance but also pays 75% of the premium so that it’s actually affordable, and all of my outpatient mental health visits are covered at 100%. But I shouldn’t fucking have to be glad I won the employer lottery. I shouldn’t have to worry that I won’t be able to get the medicine that makes me functional just because we continue to exist in a society still fucked up by Calvinism to this day.

None of us should have to an endure a fucking asinine, callous, broken system that, whenever any of the myriad problems with it are brought up, has the audacity to go, “oh, don’t blame us, blame those other people who are also suffering!”

Fuck all the way off. We made all of this shit up. None of it is immutable. We just don’t give a fuck that people are hurting, and it shows.

#rant #adhd #adhd struggles #medication #medication shortage #this shit is why the villain is always capitalism

10 notes · View notes

alostlittleriverlotus · 2 months

Text

most of all, I'm hoping that now that I'm getting some actual medical help, my mother will actually start believing me and allowing me accommodations without me having to have a violent meltdown and suicidal episode to get it because I'm triggered insanely bad. Like maybe me asking for stuff to prevent an episode IS the warning. I'm sick and tired of getting my requests and needs ignored until I have a whole ass emotional break and psychotic episode and risk harming myself because my mental state is so fucking fragile when I tried so damn hard to get me that help to AVOID THIS EXACT SCENARIO.

And maybe she'll actually start helping me get some things to aid my mobility, but who knows. I'm mostly surviving until I can move in with MA and he'll help me out, bruh. Dude. I cant. I effing cant.

I'm just so sick and tired of doing everything I can to protect my mental and physical state just to avoid some really bad episode. And with the shit I'm uncovering now, like, dude. No wonder I have such insanely bad control issues. This bitch is so much more unstable than previously thought. I try so damn hard to avoid insanely bad episodes whether it be physical pain or emotional crisis/distress and my parents don't take it seriously. Then I have a whole episode cause I'm pushed to the fucking edge and then they blame me for not controlling my emotions. I wish I could just fucking scream about all the stuff that is going on in my head, but they wouldn't get it. They barely get my anxiety, let alone if I opened up about other shit. And when I DID open up about delusions or hallucinations, my mom just brushed it off cause she experienced that too. Either she does not feel it to the same degree or she does and that's ALSO WORRYING but she doesn't see it that way or both. Like girl. I mean legitimate hallucinations and delusions. It ain't good if you're experiencing that too. But what do I expect.

I just hope this will improve my living situation until I can move in with MA and we can work together to properly accommodate me since they actually fucking believe me and don't treat me like I'm lazy and bratty and unwilling because I'm in severe pain or I am dissociated as fuck and barely feel alive. My fucking plant is less fragile than me.

Just so tired of being pushed to the edge then treated like a monster and like I'm crazy. Like thanks. You're worsening the fucking things some of my alters tell me which only makes me wanna rot even more.

Like it's been a good while since a bad episode has happened thanks to them questioning me when I'm in an extreme brain fog and dissociated state and just asking for help since I'm in so much pain. But dude. It still hurts. It still fucking hurts and makes me mad. I can't wait to move out and actually get to feel alive because someone actually fucking looks at me like I'm a person that needs help and can't do it all myself. Cause I'll be with someone that is going to help me and reassure me over the tiniest things that I've been guilted over for before. That we'll actually work to get me mobility aids and I can't wait until the day I can move around and do more because I don't have to force myself to walk as if im a perfectly functional human being with a perfectly functional body. I'm just so tired of being mistreated then made to feel like I'm crazy and I'm the abuser because I was neglected and had my physical and mental issues overlooked and blamed on me for years so much so I would punish myself. And you know what's sad? Even typing this...I feel like I'm a terrible person and I'm hating myself. I feel sick. I hate that I'm made to feel this way cause of how I've been treated since I was literally fucking 3 and 4 years old. Not to mention the system shit that I don't ever want to get into publicly due to the distress it causes me and the asshole alters in here.

2 notes · View notes

delgado-master · 9 months

Note

In the context of this whiteness rots the brain convo. This is the type of white being talked about

Like I understand that race, ethnicity, and nationality blended together can make a complicated relationship with privilege and hate and etc. I myself grew up in hawaii, while being mixed of puerto rican, Portuguese and other white European heritage.

As a kid people would call me haole (the hawaiian version of gringo) and would bully me physically and other ways. Would one call this racism? Perhaps, but it wasn't *systematic* it wasn't part of white supremacy certainly, it was rather a response to it. Misguided of course, they were children.

All this is to say. There's a difference between the system, and individuals when it comes to isms and phobias. I can experience people making fun of the food I eat and what I wear and how I act because of my culture. But my step father who is black is targeted by police and the System in a way I will never understand nor feel because I am not black. See how there is a difference?

Also I must make something clear: things are different in certain areas and certain times. Racism in hawaii is different than the mainland of the USA which is different from Europe, etc. I think the clarification of which area we're talking about would help this conversation.

I'm not trying to join in on whatever dog pile you may be experiencing, I just want to give you my perspective, which might expand your own.

My problem was the anon very much did imply that all white people are responsible for genocides committed by white people. Also if you mean WASP say WASP.

And let me ask you a question: if someone believes that all Irish people are criminals, do you think they’re going to hire someone with red hair and freckles with an Irish name? Do you think they’re going to rent to someone who’s Irish? It’s only extremely racist people who go after Irish people, but there are extremely racist people in positions of power.

3 notes · View notes

littlejanesilver · 3 years

Text

The Human Experience (now with paragraph breaks!)

I know it’s not a popular ideology to have right now, because so much we see in the news appears to speak against it, but I think humans are basically an altruistic, cooperative species— with a few caveats. So many of our problems arise out of the fundamental mismatch between the world our species evolved to live in and the world we live in today. Empathy is a natural feature of the human experience. We teach our children positive prosocial behaviours like sharing their food and caring for others who are sick or hurt. We survive and build through cooperative behaviour. Kindness is instinctual and the instinct is reinforced through proper socialization. I’ve seen it in my children before they could even speak, trying to offer a pat on the back or comfort to a crying sibling. Normal, socialized humans feel physical and mental distress in ourselves when we see others in distress and are eager to alleviate it. The thing is human altruism, like that of other primates who live and hunt in groups is usually predicated on face to face personal relationships. It makes sense to share with others in your group when you have more than enough, because someday when they have more than enough they will be more likely to share with your. In humanity the ability to cooperate has been positively selected for through million of years of evolution. It makes sense that over the comparatively long human life span, where you might live in a tribe of 60 people, you would encounter the same members of your tribe over and over again and your prosocial actions would be remembered and influence their prosocial actions towards you further down the line. Our big brains are good for remembering and keeping score. Not to mention in such an environment, you would also probably be somewhat genetically related to your tribe-mates so helping your family members and tribe-mates survive also enhances the survival of your own genes. Among surviving hunter gatherer tribes it would be consider insane for one member to horde all the food while other members of the tribe starve. A person could be excluded from the group for behaviour like that and a human without other humans in nature does not survive for long. Being exiled from one’s tribe is a fate most will do anything to prevent. Also, in the hunter gatherer world, where people are nomadic, having a huge amount of one substance doesn’t make a lot of sense, because you can only own what you can carry with you. There are also no refrigerators, so if you have more food than you need, whatever you don’t eat will rot quickly. Human life in the prehistoric world could be extremely harsh. Few infants survived and giving birth was highly precarious. But when a member of your tribe was in distress, even without modern medicines you still had something you could do and that was offer comfort, through a hug, or helping with a task or offering food. In the world we live in now the instinct to share is sometimes short-circuited. Holding resources has been facilitated by inventions like fridges and silos to keep grain. People decide to keep resources to themselves and their families, because they often don’t see or can’t relate to the people their greed is harming. Executives of large companies never have to see their employees face to face, they don’t grow up with the people they employ (who nowadays may live in another country entirely), and there is no consequence to them for causing others to experience distress. Also there are so many thousands of employees that they become theoretical to the executives, rather than real flesh and blood people they have to live with on a day to day basis who will confront you if you treat themselves shitty and treat you badly right back. Also, if say a factory in another country is mistreating its workers and the factory makes clothes for your company (as well as other companies), there are so many culprits in the problem, front he managers of the factory itself, to the country it is in that allows lax labour laws, to the many companies that have this

factory make clothes for them, to the country the company is located in that makes it more worthwhile for them to hire foreign companies to make their clothes— that the individual executive sitting in an office somewhere is so far removed and their contribution is so diffuse among the many others in the process that he or she feels no shame. More importantly, that executives social group is unlikely to include members of the exploited class, so they will never be publicly shamed or held accountable in a social setting, which, let’s face it, is what keeps most of us honest, when the temptation to take more than our share is strong. The instinct to display compassion and show care for others, is also challenged in certain ways in a modern context. The instinct to display empathy and compassion is strongest for family members and extends to other tribe-mates in a healthy human being, across all cultures and settings. If you saw a loved one crying, you would naturally go up to them and put an arm around their shoulder and ask how you could help. The distress you feel at seeing another person in distress, would reduce, once you could offer them comfort. Feeling an arm around their shoulders, experiencing comforting touch also would help elevate your loved ones feelings of distress. As much as we hate feeling pain or distress, in us and seeing it in others, experiences like this help bond us to those we love. When a friend supports you through a tough time it can cause your friendship to deepen. It feels like a blessing to be able to offer them the same strength they offered you in return at a latter date. When I a can offer a listening ear to a friend’s complaint or be able to offer a pair of arms to hold a loved one who is crying, I feel the most human. Being together in this way with others, knowing that they are feeling what you are feeling and sharing in a moment, whether listening to music or experiencing a film together is so special and so inherently human. It is hard to explain, but there is a positive feeling that comes from when one is acting in accordance with one’s animal nature. The naturalness and lack of push-back your brain is giving you— like when you have really good sex or do a refreshing (not exhausting) physical workout that pushes you a bit, or stare in wonder at something in nature— this sense of doing what you were made for— what is most natural and human feels so wonderful and liberating. I feel that when I am concocting stories sometimes, this ability to be in the moment and intensely aware of what I am doing, fully experiencing it without being distracted by other worries or things going on in my mind. The problem as I see it is that we see so much distress around us that is taking place far away, across the globe and we can see the people’s faces in pain, but we have no ability to take that pain away or even offer the basic comfort our ape ancestors could, such as an arm around the shoulder or the offer of half a fruit. We can’t give them anything. Maybe we can donate money to an earthquake fund or something, but who knows if that money will even reach them and it won’t effect that specific person you see right now, on your screen. Maybe we don’t even have enough money to give a dollar to an earthquake fund and maybe the government of the country that suffering person is living in, is causing their suffering because it refuses offers from the international community to help (see North Korea). What do people do when they are constantly faced with the reality of thousands of people suffering who we can’t do anything to help? We evolved to deal with one or two people in our tribe suffering every once and a while. We evolved to feel pain ourselves at the suffering of someone and to be able to stop that pain by offering the other person comfort. But when you can’t offer meaningful, immediate comfort to another person in a personal way either through physical means or through helpful speech, what are you left with? For some people I feel like the result is a constant low-grade

(or sometimes high grade) anxiety, traumatic stress and depression. The tidal wave of suffering feels so great you are mentally drowning in it if you are the kind of person who experiences empathy for others very strongly. You might be motivated to participate in charities and social justice causes, but all the time, the satisfaction that should come from helping people is out of reach, the anxiety and sadness at other’s distress is still there because no matter what you do, with so many people in the world now, and with news from all corners of the globe constantly in our faces at every moment of the day, you just can’t help everyone. It isn’t possible. Long ago you would only be cognizant of the problems of people in your own little tribe. Dealing with their problems would be mentally manageable and might even benefit you and the other person and strengthen your relationships. Dealing with this tidal wave of billions of people’s problems is unmanageable and hugely distressing. We were not born with the mental equipment to deal with this and it is a huge problem. Avoiding it, in certain societies, to help lessen your stress is not even possible. Everywhere you look, TV screens, radios and newspapers are blaring the death tolls of the most recent atrocity. This media diet distorts your perception, because when all you hear about are huge horrific events, the regular day to day repetitive actions that occupy most of what people are doing all over the world, like today Soorya milked a goat or Bob picked his toddler up from daycare don’t make the news. Some day, I think the world will have to reckon with the mental health problems that this constant media diet of negative and fearful imagery causes humans who have no means to influence the distressing things that are mentioned. Obviously, it is important to know what is happening in the world in some sense, to hold governments accountable when they act in ways that harm people. However part of the problem is even when we see that unfairness is happening we don’t have the tools to help stop it or a deeper understanding of why problems are occurring and how we can help is left out of the reporting. This makes people feel helpless and out of control and it doesn’t help the people who are suffering in the end. Some people are able to deal with this constant exposure to suffering that we can’t help, through selectively turning their compassion and empathy faculties on and off. As someone who can’t do this on my own, I am constantly astounded to witness other people do this. Part of me is slightly jealous of this ability while part of me is highly suspicious of it. People who can do this, I’ve noticed can also be very reckless with others emotions if they believe a relationship with that other person doesn’t forward their own goals. There is something that feels lacking to me about a human that can operate in such a ruthless capacity, but these are also people who seem able to have a lot of success because their mental processes are so efficient with regards to empathy. People can often show great love and compassion for their family and friends, but have little to no compassion for people outside the group they qualify as their “tribe.” How modern people define tribe, as people who share the same religion, community, fan base, sexuality, ethnicity or even as narrowly as their own nuclear family can vary. But I would say the majority of humans display this ability to switch their empathy on and off depending on whether someone is considered part of their tribe or not. This is also, sad to say, a very human quality. In a world where your tribe was your survival, outside tribes who might steal your resources, or kill or steal members of your tribe were far more dangerous than wild beasts you might encounter. I was bullied pretty harshly as a kid and I still maintain that the whole in-group/out-group dialectic that is such a part of human experience is one of the ugliest facets of human nature there is. Most disturbing of all, it is not contrary to human

nature, as most anti-social behaviours seem to be coded as, but is often seen as positive with no social costs in-group. A person who shows altruism and fealty to their own group can show the worst sadism and cruelty to out-group members without the corresponding social penalties they would face if they were to behave the same way in their own group. There is a reason in the Torah there are numerous directives “to love the stranger as yourself” and to “be kind to the stranger” and other lessons about hospitality to people who aren’t from your town because they might be (in Abraham’s case) angelic messengers. If everybody treated strangers and out group members the same as they treated their family members there wouldn’t be so much advice about showing hospitality to those unlike ourselves. The instinct of “stranger danger” is high in human beings and starts before we can talk. Studies done with pre-verbal human infants show that when confronted with two different strangers, one who speaks their own language and one who talks a different language, the infants shunned the foreign language speaking individual more than the person who talked their own language, even if they couldn’t talk or even fully understand that language yet themselves! The corresponding instinct of curiosity in some of us and eagerness to find out and know about something outside our own experience is thankfully, a good check to the stranger-danger feeling in some of us. Sadly, the stranger-danger instinct can get stronger as people get older and lose some of their mental flexibility and the world also changes a lot from the world they grew up in. If you aren’t mindful of that tendency of the human brain, then you can get caught up in thinking that all the changes are bad and threatening and feel fearful and angry at the world as you get older. Also, the more adverse experiences you have with other people, the more they seem to trail after you as you get older, colouring your ability to trust others and harming your interpersonal relationships if you’re not careful. While it may be more mentally healthy to only extend your empathy to members of your own group, feel like society as a whole suffers tremendously when we do this. We don’t live in isolated tribes anymore. Even if the effects are not apparent to us, our actions do effect the lives of other people, sometimes far away. We need new ways and new transparency laws to let us understand what the costs to others of the goods we purchase are, where they come from and what sort of labour conditions those goods are sourced under. We also need more alternatives to buy ethically, that are within most people’s budgets. Having the choice between ethically sourced goods that cost way more than a normal family can afford and goods sold in stores that only offer part-time jobs and starvation wages to their employees that utilize slave labour in other countries for manufacturing doesn’t really offer a choice. If you don’t have a lot of money you can’t afford to be ethical, which seems wrong. How come I can get a food item at the store and every single ingredient that went into it is listed on the back of the package, but how the item was made, where and with what sort of labour is left out? As a consumer we should be afforded the ability to make ethical purchases. There should be some sort of international independent organization with actual teeth that oversees labour practices across the world and gives companies letter grades and provides this information to the consumer with every purchase. It should be a reliable independent source for the consumer that tells us whether a purchase is helping to perpetuate positive or negative work conditions around the world. Companies that have the best conditions should be rewarded and companies that have the worst should be shut down. Getting everyone on board with the philosophy that humans are all part of one tribe is crucial to improving all our lives. If all children can be taught, from the earliest days that we are all one tribe and that

we are all deserving of love and compassion and the means of survival things will probably improve. As long as people continue to believe in in-group/out-group philosophies that see their own group as some sort of master race or chosen people and everyone else as inferior or misguided and not worthy of the same kind of empathy reserved for members of one’s own tribe— humanity will not grow. Accepting the fact that we are all animals, members of the same species and the same planet, which we have to take care of together is crucial. I’ve lived on Lake Erie and Lake Ontario for most of my life. For those who don’t know both these lakes are partially in the U.S. and partially in Canada and proved most of the water and electricity for the communities around the lakes like Toronto and Hamilton in Canada and Buffalo and Rochester in the U.S and Niagara Falls in both countries. Canada and the U.S. in the past have had different laws governing heavy industry on the lakes. But this is ridiculous, because if a company pollutes on one side of the lake, it automatically causes pollution on the other side as well. Right now countries are acting like the laws they make regarding pollution, labour, immigration and countless other things only affect their own country, when the reality couldn’t be further from the truth. We don’t live in isolated tribes anymore. Every human community is touching countless other communities. We didn’t evolve to live or think this way, but if there’s one thing we humans have mastered, it’s how to adapt. We can adapt to this new world and thinking in a new way about each other and our planet— but we have to stop seeing ourselves as isolated groups and start thinking of the big picture. In this world where our edges all touch each other, we have to be especially cognizant to live peacefully and try to do everything in our power to avoid violence wherever possible. To use a metaphor, you never know how the pollution you dump one one side of the lake will effect a baby yet to be born on the other side of the lake. If there is another choice, even if that choice is just to pause and consider what this action might achieve or to really grapple seriously with the harm it might cause, regardless of whether it is “right” or “deserved.” Make the choice to think before you act. Listen to what other people are feeling who aren’t from your in-group. Even if you don’t agree with them, how can you ever convince them, if you don’t try to understand where they are coming from? More than anything right now I think we need dialogue, not knee jerk reactions. We need nuance, deeper understanding than 150 character soundbites and the ability to listen to each other and the skill of trying to slow down our minds. It is easy to act on anger, greed or fear if you don’t see the people who your actions effect. But we have many tools in our communication arsenal for communicating how we feel to other people and trying to get them to make change. Violence should be very last resort of all the last resorts, not the go-to option. We have to act in accordance with the world we want to live in, in the future, a world that has room for all people. There is no shortage of money, food or land on this planet if we all only take what we need and share with each other. The withholding of these things from others and obscene accumulation of resources for oneself and ones family is not admirable. It is a demonstration of selfish antisocial behaviour and should be seen as such by our society. How our words and actions serve ourselves, our loved ones and the human tribe as a whole and its future existence on this Earth is worth considering.

#being human

20 notes · View notes

doberbutts · 3 years

Text

fragile-milkbones @fragile-milkbones

And a reminder, female genital mutilation usually includes the tearing open of skin that had been sutured shut. FGM is often practiced in ways that work more like a “tamper evident” seal under the guise of religious practices. The other common practice is the cutting off of the clitoris which is the equivalent of the head of a phallus. Both are used to prevent a woman from experiencing pleasure from genital stimulation, and

Women who have had their genitals mutilated in the “sewn shut” variety often experience dangerous and sometimes fatal complications during normal body processes like menstruation (gross warning) where the sloughed uterine lining cannot effectively exit the body and then rots. Male circumcision is harmful, but has not been used as a mechanism of oppressing and subjugating men or for shaming men for having sexual pleasure. Circumcision when preformed correctly should never cause long term medical

*medical complications

I’m against both, but equating make circumcision with fgm is imo, a vast overstatement due to the historic purposes of the rituals, general standards of safety for the patient, and overall long term health consequences of the victims.

Am Jewish if that matters at all

Oh! And there’s no “typical age range” for fgm! But it’s been preformed on children as young as infants and as old as fully mature women!

Underlining concept: modifying genitalia for children inherently lacks consent and is based on antiquated notions of health and hygiene, and has been perpetuated by religion. However FGM, unlike circumcision is still practiced in extremely brutal ways and causes significant threat to a woman’s physical health and serves to cause extraordinary pain during intercourse.

Circumcision is also highly regulated and has standards of procedure and after care for a medical procedure. FGM generally does not and the religious figure preforming it generally lacks medical trainings and there is often an emphasis on pain experienced during the procedure. If you want to compare levels of harm done, one minimizes harm (mostly), and the other encourages it

Yes, the nuance is why I conceded ground there. FGM is practiced by select vulnerable groups but my opinion on it is not changed despite cultural and religious reasonings due to just how bad it is, and I don’t really care that it has cultural and religious significance to those groups because of this. Additionally my introspection comment was more aimed at considering that there is a cultural and religious reasoning within yet another vulnerable religious group for male circumcision, and that I would need to consider if any of my reasons to dislike the procedure are based in anti-Semitism even if by accident.

However, that being said, I have read many studies regarding the effects of male circumcision and whether there really are “no side effects” and the consensus is “it’s complicated” and “there can be side effects up to and including septic shock and genital reconstruction due to necrosis because fresh wounds in baby diapers are not the cleanest” and “it’s possible subjecting male babies to severe pain is causing them trauma which we know childhood trauma has lasting effects on brain development and can cause a rise in aggressive behavior” and “correlation with circumcision and negative effects on male arousal” and I just cannot accept the idea of shrugging all of that off as “no lasting side effects” because clearly there can be. I know many cis men who were cut that wish they were not, and just as many cis men who were cut and do not care... but I know zero uncut cis men who want to be circumcised and zero cis men who wanted to be cut as adults, and I think that is also telling.

And, well, the whole consent argument. Which, as said, as someone who was raised Mennonite even if I am very much fairly done with the majority of the Christian faith, something I think Mennonites did right was ensure children were allowed to grow and mature and make their own choice before a potentially permanent choice was made on their behalf, even if the choice was whether or not they wanted to be dunked in water with prayers said over them.

There is another reply on this chain that says the hospitals they’ve worked at have used some amount of (mild) painkiller and while I still don’t like the procedure, at least there’s that. One of my sisters was a nurse for a while and she reported the opposite, that most of those baby boys had absolutely nothing to help them through it, and the sound of them wailing was so haunting that she regretted having her own son done. I’ve had a few other nurse friends verify the same, so it may be different hospital to hospital.

13 notes · View notes

evolutionsvoid · 3 years

Photo

If one has read through my previous entries on Slimes, you should know by now that they are an incredibly adaptable and versatile species. Though they are just a heart and a pseudobody, their special signals and incredible slime allow them to create a variety of shapes and forms. From sticky Flayers who cover themselves in adhesive goo and bone shards, to volatile Fire Slimes that secrete flammable liquids and use gathered flint to light it all aflame! It is no surprise that this species has thrived and spread for so long! However, at times this versatility can lead to some issues. Like any other beast, Slimes are susceptible to parasites, disease and the ravages of time. Horrible things that can mess with their minds and hijack their signals. When a Slime is struck by one of these terrible fates, you either wish for a speedy recovery or a merciful death. Cruel as it sounds, things can become a real problem when these illnesses choose to linger. Be it parasite or virus, one can take over the form of a Slime and turn them into something even worse. I have written about Slime Dragons before, and how those abominations come to be. To quickly recap, Slime colonies tend to have buried networks of elder hearts that aid in reproduction and knowledge transfer. Slimes can physically connect to these networks to share nutrients, information or transfer their young. In most cases, these networks get along just fine, but age can start to wear on the oldest of hearts. As the decades pass by, an elder heart may start to degrade and fail. Most cases end with these dying organs being put of their misery and absorbed, but there are rare instances where the network is too late in realizing this weakness. In extreme cases, a fading heart may start to produce a "rotted signal," a droning message that is simple and infectious. Slimes use signals generated by their hearts to control their goo and communicate with others. They can share signals with one another without a problem, but rotted signals are not so kind. Due to their nature, these signals are capable of overwriting the signals of other Slimes and causing their hearts to pump out the same infectious message. All Slimes who come in contact with an infected heart or pseudobody will be hijacked and added to the collective. Slime Dragons are beasts that can result from a rotted signal taking over, but they are only one outcome for this dire situation. You see, a rotted signal is not just gibberish or useless noise, it often is a normal message that a Slime would use that has become corrupted. For Slime Dragons, the signal that births them is the same signal Slimes use when they are hungry or look to feed. It is a blaring message to consume that takes them over and creates this gluttonous monstrosity. So that means a different signal can lead to a different outcome, which is where the Slime's versatility takes a cruel turn. For each type of rotted signal, their is a corresponding abomination that is born from it, and each is specially equipped to bring a whole lot of misery and destruction. The diseased amalgamation I wish to write about today is known as the Mind Sink. While it is a network that has succumbed to an infection like a Slime Dragon, it is quite different from those slithering, hungering brutes. Their congealed and hardening slime will form skittering legs, and a bizarre frame. While its outside has grown dark and thickened by the corrupted fusion of so many Slimes, within this brittle cage will form a gooey writhing core. Here is where the infested hearts lie, and from there comes a multitude of flailing tendrils and snaring tentacles. I imagine it is a freaky sight to behold, and one I have thankfully never witnessed! The Mind Sink is one of these abominations I am most disturbed by, as it hungers for something more than flesh! The signal that becomes corrupted is the one Slimes will use to transfer knowledge to one another. It is a message that kind of says "can I copy your notes?" which the other Slime will agree to and they will share their information. When it grows foul, though, this message does not ask for permission. Rather, it becomes more of theft than a collaboration, as the infested Slimes mindlessly drain the information out of the victim. Slimes that are caught by these serpentine limbs will immediately be linked to the corrupted network and they will begin to draw out all their knowledge. In moments, the Slime will be emptied of all their information and thoughts, and will instead start to pump out the rotted signal. They will be pulled into the core and will join their infested brethren, ready to seek out the next victim. I know some may think that it is a rough process for the Slimes, and to that I must make a correction. It is a rough process for everyone, because the Mind Sink does not just prey on its own.

It has been thought that the signals from a Slime's heart shares some similarities with the signals our brains create. While that is a whole field of study and wondering I am not well versed in, I can say that Mind Sink has given us a bit of confirmation on that. Mind Sinks not only hunger for the knowledge of their fellow Slimes, but they will target other creatures as well. Doesn't matter if it is man, beast or thinking plant, if it has a brain or a similar organ, it wants inside. Non-Slimes who are seized by a Mind Sink's arms will be entangled and immobilized in its grip. Coils of slime will pin their limbs in a cocoon, and slithering tendrils will seek out the source of the victim's thoughts. They somehow have a way of pinpointing the location of the brain and, once they do, they find the quickest way to access it. The point of entry is usually a facial orifice, be it nose, mouth, ears or eyes. They will burrow to the brain and the corrupted goop will make physical contact. From there, it will hijack the signals and quickly learn how to manipulate the organ, giving it access to their memories, knowledge and life experiences. With the mental feast now ready, the Mind Sink will say "I will have everything!" and start to drain. So far it has not been found if there is any order to what it consumes first, or if there is any logic behind it. Like a whirlpool, it just sucks in whatever it can. The mind will be siphoned away by this hungering mass, and the victim is quite powerless to do anything about it. When your brain is taken over by a gooey monstrosity, you aren't exactly in the right state of mind to fight back. Due to the difference between Slimes and species like us, the brain draining process takes much longer. Think of it like trying to transcribe an entire book in a language you don't understand. Yeah, you can do it by just copying the symbols, but it will take you longer. It appears that it takes a few minutes for a fleshy or plant-based victim to be fully emptied, and then they will simply be tossed aside. Those that fall to this awful fate will not have much of a mind left. Memories will be gone, any knowledge or skills they had will be wiped out and their own thoughts will be a scrambled mess due to the brutal takeover their brain experienced. Most become comatose, while some may flop around like a fish and babble nonsense. It is a truly horrible thing, and a cure or remedy has yet to be found. Due to how much longer it takes to fully feed off a victim, one can be saved from the grasp of a Mind Sink before they are truly lost. If one can sever the tendril that holds the prisoner and cut them off from the network, the slime will collapse in a useless heap. The connection with their brain will end and so will the drain. It should be noted that freeing a victim from a hungering tendril is just the first step, because the Mind Sink has a dozen more and it will be eager to reclaim its prize. Best to grab them the second they are let go and run as fast as you can! Severing this link before the mind can be fully consumed is certainly a good thing, but damages will still occur. It depends on how long they were being fed on, as that decides how much was removed from the brain. Those that were held for only a few moments won't notice too much of a difference after they have rested and recovered, but some things will certainly be lost. Probably a handful of distant memories and mental tidbits were taken, but they won't notice their absence right away. Those fed upon for longer will have patchy memory loss, temporary issues with physical functions and scattered thoughts. It will be like someone took the book of their life and ripped out random pages. Thankfully, the book will mostly remain, so that means recovery is possible. Physical therapy will be required for any functions that were damaged by the hijacking, and the mind will need some help too. Not only will they need to relearn lost skills and forgotten memories, but their mind will need to recoup as well. Meditation, therapy and other calming activities are needed to help them stabilize their thoughts and reorganize their scattered mental archives. Recovery is not the fastest thing, but time and patience will help heal the wounds and fill the gaps torn in their heads. No doubt now that it has become obvious that Mind Sinks are incredibly dangerous and need to be exterminated whenever they rise. These are diseased amalgamations that will cause untold damage and tragedy as long as they are alive, and there does not seem to be any peaceful way to resolve their rampage. Like Slime Dragons, the way to bring down these monstrosities is to target the original heart that is creating the rotted signal. That is where the signal is originating from, and the other hearts are merely mimicking it. Kill the source and the others will soon fall silent, causing the fusion to fall apart. When it perishes, all the other Slimes are set free, but they won't be the same as they were before they were assimilated. All the knowledge they had was taken by the Mind Sink, and where all that information goes is quite random. As far as we know, all that it absorbs is held in a condensed mess of noise and thoughts that is shared by all the consumed hearts. Its mind eating abilities may make it seem like it can take memories and knowledge then use them against their foes, but that isn't the case. They do not weaponize what they take, they don't even seem to pay the stolen information any mind. Their own mind is like a garbage can, and anything they get their tendrils on is just chucked inside without a second thought. They don't want to use it or interpret it, they just want it. So with all this knowledge shoved into one mangled ball of mental energy, there is no telling what belongs to who or who belongs to what! When the Mind Sink is terminated, all that knowledge is fractured and dumped randomly into the freed hearts. The Slimes who emerge from the collapsed amalgamation will have a stew of memories and thoughts that are not their own. Some will be completely different from before, while some will be fumbling with the fractured mess they have been given. Not only will they be mixed up with their own selves, but there can also be a whole bunch of information that was stolen from non-Slimes that is now stuck in them! Some may be in bits and pieces, while some Slimes can have whole chunks of a person's life inside them! There is a tale that has gone around about a monster slayer going out to kill a rampaging Mind Sink. He failed to defeat the beast and was consumed by it, but eventually someone brought it down. What was brought back to his family was an empty shell, and they cared for him in this comatose state. The family prayed that one day he would get better, that somehow his mind and faculties would return. One morning, his wife heard someone walking around the house and his voice started to call for her. Believing that a miracle had been granted, she rushed to him only to find him still in his bed and still in a coma. What walked in to greet her in her husband's voice was a Slime, who had somehow wound up with a big chunk of his memories and personality. I personally don't think this story is true, because the ending to this tale has several different versions. Some say she took the Slime as a replacement for her husband, while others say she killed it in horror on the spot. I have heard some say that the Slime returned all the memories to the comatose husband and he was cured, but that one is certainly fake. It would be nice if that could happen, but Slimes are incapable of putting things into our heads like that. Our minds are like colorful sandpaintings, and the Mind Sink just reached in and yanked out handfuls of it. Can you just take those fistfuls and put them back so easily? I say that about returning memories and how that is impossible, but then I remember that there is an exception to that: the Slimes themselves. While they can come out all scrambled, it is possible for the Slimes to rearrange themselves back into facsimiles of their old selves. Slimes can already transfer stuff to one another, so they could puzzle out what parts belong to who and then sort them out. I have no clue how you can tell if a memory is yours or not, but then again, I don't have the ability to copy and share my brain (I wish I did, though! It would make teaching so much easier)! So Slimes can return what was lost between them, but they will still wind up with pieces of non-Slime information. What they do with this is unknown and up to who wields it, but some believe that Slimes have gained portions of their knowledge by recovering stolen thoughts from a Mind Sink. Supposedly an ancient Mind Sink fed upon human settlements and was finally slain, and the Slimes that emerged claimed all the knowledge and skills of its victims. Could it have happened? Maybe. Do I believe it? No, because I do not like the light it paints Slimes in. The theory is essentially saying they stole all their knowledge and wisdom from others, and proposes that they couldn't have come across this any other way. Seems more like it is derogatory towards Slimes than it is trying to learn more about them. Doesn't help that the people I have met who believe this theory have all kind of been jerks towards Slimes. After all this talk about Mind Sinks and their horrific abilities, I bet some think that I can offer tips on how to kill one. In truth, I got nothing. Take out the original rotted heart and the rest falls apart. How do you do that? Not really my department there. I am a researcher not a warrior, and I personally don't want to be anywhere near one of these things. As someone who has spent years learning and seeking knowledge, the concept of a brain-sucking monster is absolutely terrifying to me. All my experiences, all my work drained away in minutes, reducing me to a mindless vegetable! No thank you! I like my thoughts right where they are, and I got enough of a scatter brain already! The only way I want to share my knowledge is through my writings and teachings! Read my life's work, don't yank it out of my skull! Speaking of that, I better watch my tongue. Enough talk about a mind-wiping monster and Eucella might hire one and sic it on me. It would be way easier to chop up my writings and sell a book if I was brainless idiot! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian - You know I read these, right? This is not helping your case in the slightest. And also you might want to drop the "if" and change the "was" on the brainless idiot part. - Eucella - ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Slimes, Slimes, I love Slimes!

#slime #slimes #goop #goo #monster #creature #brain #art #drawing

25 notes · View notes

mariaiscrafting · 3 years

Note

hot takes! as someone with adhd, i am simultaneously frustrated and empathetic with dream. sometimes i think he is a bit reckless and irresponsible with his fanbase, particularly when responding to criticism. on the other hand, as someone who also experiences rejection sensitive dysphoria as a result of adhd, i completely understand the need to defend oneself, and how difficult it can be to take the amount of criticism he receives. it's complicated lol

Hmm yeah... I don’t think I have ADHD (though jury’s still out on the exactness of my mental illness/neurodivergence since I haven’t been officially diagnosed with anything), so I can’t say I 100% understand. But I do understand both having to take responsibility for one’s actions despite a mental illness or disorder, and being unjustly accused of things because of my mental illness/disorder because people don’t have empathy for the fact that my brain works differently... On one hand, I understand that it is difficult to deal with rejection when you have ADHD, and that RSD can manifest rejection as actual emotional pain. But on the other, I believe in learning coping mechanisms and creating a support system that makes it easier to do things that are not detrimental to one’s self, especially when you’re an adult and have the ability and knowledge of yourself to do so. I fucking hate the people demonizing, for example, his extreme, immediate reaction to the first cheating accusations. I have a friend who used to like Dream before the cheating thing, and he compared Dream’s reactions to Trump’s tweets. While I get the frustration from a viewer’s perspective, especially from someone who majors in mathematics, the comments still gave me an ableist edge. Like, to not understand whatsoever that the guy has ADHD, and that immediate, angry responses are characteristic of RSD... :/

As someone with (extremely probable) depression, I’ve long since stopped blaming myself for being unresponsive or serious during depressive episodes. But these are symptoms that don’t negatively affect me or anyone else, at least, not on a very significant scale. Yeah, my mother has made digs at me since I was little about being too serious and having RBF and seeming unfriendly to peers and family members, but really, it doesn’t fucking matter. But there are also symptoms of depression that I’ve been faulted for that do truly matter, that negatively affect me and those around me. One of the most obvious ones is the lack of basic caring for one’s self during a depressive episode. As a child, I had little understanding of why I had no energy to even change my clothes, let alone shower, clean my room, wash the dishes, or get some food, but as an adult, I know myself. I know about depression, I’ve read about it and experienced it for around a decade now, and I have the capability to create a network of friends and family members who can help me when necessary. I know the signs when I’m gonna go into a depressive episode. I know what to do to distract myself, who to turn to, and how to motivate myself to keep functioning. And so, despite everything in my body telling me to lie down and rot during an episode, I force myself to seek out the factors that I have set up for myself, that help me find the motivation to, or sometimes actually help me, to shower and change clothes and find food to eat. As an adult, I need to take responsibility for any lack of self-care I engage in during a depressive episode because I have the capability, wherewithall, time, and resources to make sure that I continue functioning as a mentally able person would, even during episodes. I don’t want to be demonized, I want empathy and understanding, but I also don’t want to be babied because I need to be held accountable; mental illness does not erase one’s actions. One’s actions do not live in a vaccum, and they can’t be compared to someone who is mentally able/NT, but they also can’t be completely excused because of mental illness/neurodivergence.

Depression, I’m sure, is not at all the same as ADHD, but the same, underlying concept still stands: I hope that Dream can figure out a support system and coping mechanisms and whatever else he needs to combat RSD. Because acting on RSD, especially in the case of someone whose entire career invites rejection en-masse, is a detriment to one’s livelihood. Dream’s career is currently negatively impacted by many factors, but I’d say that one of the major ones is the criticism of him as being unable to deal with criticism/his many responses to accusations and criticism. I don’t get mad at Dream anymore for responding to criticism rashly or constantly or where it is not necessary, because I understand a lot more about ADHD and RSD now than I did in December, but I do hope he can create the coping mechanisms and support system necessary to help himself, and not be a detriment to his career.

#asks #uhhh is this dream crit? if someone gets mad i'll tag it #otherwise:#mcyt #dreamwastaken #dream #mental illness #Anonymous

11 notes · View notes

missinghan · 4 years

Text

「 what am I // stray kids 」

❖ genre : sci-fi; superpower au; platonic relationship au

❖ word count : 3,9k (bullet points only)

❖ warning : explicit language, most likely ain’t scientifically true at all

❖ summary : superpowers manifest in certain individuals once they hit puberty and naturally, those odd abilities will vanish as soon as adulthood occurs; but how will those teenagers protect themselves from the curiosity of science?

❖ a/n : this isn’t a proper fic since I don’t think I’ll actually write smth decent out of this but I don’t want the idea to rot inside my dungeon either- so yea, bear with me through this character intro post(?)

— bang chan ↠ locating ability-wielders & teleportation

· sometimes when he’s running errands for his parents, chan can feel a distinct ‘zing’ ins his bones if someone else with unusual abilities is nearby and can describe their power perfectly to the t; he ignores it at first but learns to make do with it eventually; can teleport another person with him and also needs to calculate carefully before teleporting because he once ends up in the middle of a freeway instead of school resulting from lack of sleep.

· looks intimidating but is the first to talk to a new kid in class and show them around as he’s president of the school’s student council; smiles and laughs a lot once you get to know him, and is also very caring, reliable.

· he wishes to apply for a music production company after his college graduation but his family turned the idea down almost immediately and sent him to a boarding school in Europe.

· chan starts taking notice in strange things at his new school after the first few weeks; for example: how they unreasonably force students to have a daily health checkup, how their food taste like medicine most of the times, teachers don’t really seem to care about what they’re teaching and some of his classmates mysteriously ‘move away’ whenever security shows up at their dorm in the middle of the night.

· after finding out where they actually are via photos of students being locked up inside cells, arms and legs chained up like domestic animals, injected with odd substances on a daily basis which were taken by an anonymous individual, chan secretly packs his stuff and decides to ditch this so-called boarding school for good.

· he works hard to hide his identity ensuing flying back to his hometown for a solid three weeks and the fact that there are more people cursed with supernatural abilities begins dawning onto him; cutting off contact with his family completely, moving from one crusty apartment to another every month, chan tackles this crazy idea of assembling a group consisted of extraordinary people to give him a hand with creating a safe environment for the ‘gifted’ youths.

— lee minho ↠ collapse

· law major, quite the loner, raised by a single mother; didn’t have much since little but his mother’s love and affection make up for everything.

· looks intimidating, is actually intimidating; the only person he talks to in college is his dance coach, doesn’t like school nor has many friends; his slightest glare is as cold as a wife trying to win custody of her children in court.

· minho can make his surroundings crumble and fall apart with his mind, which shouldn’t be confused with telekinesis since he can’t physically move objects to his will; this deadly power is triggered whenever he’s experiencing extremely negative emotions like fear or anguish and he’s not (still isn’t) very good at getting a hold of it.

· a group of suspicious men shows up at his house one day as he returns home from dance practice; they claim to be an agency looking for up and coming talents but by the way that his mother is staring at the ground nervously with her legs trembling, his institution tells him that something’s off.

· he firmly declines their offer with a stiff “I’m uncertain that I’m the talent you gentlemen are looking for, but you should know that when the cops are here to fill out their reports, I’m gonna be very helpful, as helpful as possible.”

· “what other random merry of fucking misdemeanors are going to pop up once they go through your records? domestic violence? illegal substances and weapons possession? human trafficking?”

· with a gun to her head, his mom scrambles to her knees and begs him to go with them, admitting that she’s already signed the contract; if he follows their orders and agrees to become an experimental subject, she won’t have to worry about any financial problems for the rest of her life.

· in the heat of the moment, they ultimately force him to activate his power for the very first time; as a result, his house collapses, the death of his only family and the group of men following suit.

· “I’m too late.”

· chan manages to find minho under the aftermath, severely injured and is hanging by a string of life so fragile that can only be saved after undergoing a twelve-hour operation at the hospital.

— seo changbin ↠ sound waves manipulation

· a good student, reputable within his social sphere at school, and comes from a pretty well-off family.

· changbin is able to bend and control sound waves to his advantage; whether it’s simply for his musical instruments or moving objects around, he can also use something as minor as his own heartbeat when he’s emotionally unstable; using the ability continuously for too long can give him severe migraines and potentially damage his brain to a degree if he’s not mindful of it.

· he stays up late at night to write and produce his own songs, keeping it a secret from his parents; posts his own songs on a SoundCloud account, or performs even live at a random underground club under the alias SpearB if he has the chance to.

· an organization full of outlaw scientists comes across a video of his performance on the web, analyzing how he can enhance the beat, his vocal cords without the help of any form of technology, and just like that, he easily tops the list of their targets.

· having no choice but to do what they want when those men hold his parents hostage inside his family’s mansion, changbin gets sent to the same boarding school as chan but they’re being observed in different buildings for his power is on the more useful and dangerous side; hence, his classes consist of a smaller amount of students and they are put through checkups more constantly.

· he doesn’t really pay attention to the skepticisms that reek off all over the place as he’s too busy being homesick and studying because he fully believes that the harder he works, the more obediently he acts, the sooner they’ll let him go; all hell breaks loose when those photos are scattered everywhere, from the hallways to the bathrooms; changbin takes advantage in the riot to get himself out of there as quickly as he can possibly run to the airport.

· changbin swears to never trust anyone again until chan and minho find him sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store with a pistol inside his sleeping bag, two daggers concealed in his sleeves at all times.

· “are we seriously going to contain some headass who was this close to blowing my brain out of my head?”

· “huh, funny, last time I checked, you almost smothered me to death under a gigantic block of cement when I was trying to save your life.”

· “who are you guys and how the hell did you get in here? I don’t recall not locking the door.”

— hwang hyunjin ↠ permeation & memory manipulation

· a true theater kid, meaning he knows almost everyone but every single student at school knows him; naturally, becomes the Prince after playing one too many male lead roles because of his godly features; rather well-mannered and diligent though he doesn’t look like it.

· mistaken to be a player by every new batch of freshmen that only ever gets to watch him practicing his lines from afar, swooning tremendously whenever he ties up his hair; always carries a camera around, doesn’t like to have too many friends but if you get close enough, he’s probably the most fun to be around, won’t ever judge your questionable life choices.

· hyunjin’s ability allows him to walk right through walls as well as any other solid matters but it will drain his stamina painstakingly, causing him to run short on breaths after using his power to change his costumes faster between scenes; the thicker the wall is, the more strength it takes for him to pass through completely.

· he can also erase a certain chunk of memory from someone’s mind but he needs to physically touch them; has only used this ability one time to wipe his existence out of a childhood best friend’s mind before moving away from his hometown.

· his interest in photography sparks the moment his uncle comes back from a business trip and gives him a toy camera, it’s nowhere near the real ones but the ten-year-old hwang hyunjin sure takes it very, very seriously; after a decade or so, he has replaced it with cameras that actually work and developed quite the talent for taking photos of sceneries and people (jisung is his number one victim but he can’t care less as long as he looks decent and that hyunjin won’t save any crack ones to blackmail him).

· suddenly gets a sketchy summer scholarship to a boarding school in London (the same so-called school that Chan and Changbin went to), his mom encourages him to go after looking it up on the internet without knowing the chances of her own son being exploited for twisted science is shockingly high.

· and the culprit who takes those photos during a wandering around school after curfew is none other than hyunjin himself; he knows damn well posting those photos means getting himself into trouble but heck, his conscience forbids him to leave this hell-on-earth place without alerting these innocent people.

· so the night before those photos are spread everywhere, in every corner, every edge of the building, hyunjin smashes his camera completely with a baseball bat and burns the broken bits in the school backyard; he tries getting through those sleep-deprived men in their fifties who aren’t likely paid enough with his ability and flees.

· surprisingly, he comes rushing into his best friend’s house right after his horrendous flights only to find him being surrounded by three mysterious men.

— han jisung ↠ plunder

· the jokester of the class, takes great joy in stressing the living daylights out of his professors with irrational questions that aren’t necessarily relevant to the lesson, procrastinates, and sleeps through lessons like there’s no tomorrow but still keeps that shiny ‘A’ on his report card nonetheless.

· being friends with hyunjin results in occasional admirers here and there for him but he does kinda have his own fandom base after being pulled upstage out of the blue in the middle of last year’s spring music festival, musing him an opportunity to show off his rapping skills; because of that event, he takes writing music more seriously with the stage name J.One.

· if jisung is being honest, he hardly uses his power since it’s basically taking over anyone’s body and mind for a maximum of five seconds meanwhile his own body is immobile; and if any physical effects occur (for example, a basketball hits him on the head spontaneously), he’s obligated to endure that pain for that person until they become conscious of their own body again.

· he’s not a creep, he swears.

· and who knows? what if his body gets kidnapped within those five seconds?

· hyunjin and jisung know about each other’s ability but don’t really discuss nor talk about them because they don’t find walking through walls or temporarily possessing someone’s body cool.

· well, that’s that until chan, minho and changbin show up at his house the same day when hyunjin returns from his summer exchange program with a cut lip and bruised knuckles.

· “han jisung, you’re going to have to come with us unless you want to live inside a cage for the rest of your life.”

· “I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

· “we’re trying to protect you, smartass, you’re far too dangerous to be roaming the streets so freely.”

· “....me? I’m dangerous?”

· jisung not knowing the slightest bit about his own ability downright baffles chan—he’s only scratched the surface of it at this point; his true potential is if he’s taking over another ability-wielder’s body, he will then take their power for himself; and jisung can’t remember the last time he properly uses it either.

— lee felix ↠ imperfect invisibility

· initially lives in Australia but after finding out about his ability, he moves to Seoul with his parents to live a quieter, more covered-up life without being surrounded by too many relatives.

· an absolute sweetheart, smart, kind, honest, a little slow to read in between the lines at times; can concentrate relatively well on an empty stomach, but gets drowsy quickly after eating, especially big meals.

· lix is also homeschooled up until high school in order to avoid any unwanted situation; later on, applies for a course that can be taken online for the most parts at an average-ish university to not draw so much attention.

· since he stays at home most of the time, he spends lots of time playing different video games, experiences random cooking recipes without burning the house down, and teaches himself how to dance through online tutorials, getting awfully good at it fast partially thanks to his natural flexibility.

· he can disappear from a single person’s field of vision for as long as he wants to but it’s still limited and considered flawed since felix can only disappear from the sight one person of his choice at a time; although it can come in quite handy whenever he gets shoved into a dark alleyway by random people varying from cheap pickpockets with a box-cutting knife to muscular men dressed in black.

· learns boxing during middle school so he can still kick asses to preserve his own life.

· felix once punches jisung in the gut and slaps hyunjin in the face with a cabbage after seeing them follow each and every one of his movements the moment he steps out of the supermarket—he’s got used to listening to people’s footsteps over time.

· “okay, first of all, ow, and second of all, why did I get the punch and he got the cabbage?!”

· “oh, don’t be such a baby.”

· “you two don’t look like those balding dudes in money-dripping black suits...what are you on? crack? what do you want from me? money? food?”

· “of course we’re not balding men in their forties! I take personal offense to that! and please, who do you take me as? a total creep who only ever knows how to follow people with his stupid sidekick tagging along for background noises?”

· “HEY! I NEVER AGREED TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK!”

· “well, it’s time you fucking did then, han.”

· “you know, I suppose this is the part where you two put me to sleep with some kind of drug and bring me back to your excuse of a headquarter.”

· “oh, did you bring the anesthetic pills?”

· “I thought Changbin gave it to you, no?”

— kim seungmin ↠ time-leap

· born in a middle-class family, very studious but also enjoys playing baseball during retreats, takes time to open up to people so he has more acquaintances than close friends but he doesn’t mind, that way he has more time for himself.

· definitely and never will be the kid who lets his classmates take advantage of his wit, he does do a good chunk of every group project but makes sure everyone has at least one decent thing to do (low-key loves bossing people around); can be pretty distant at first, but he just weirds people out after getting closer and doesn’t hold grudges.

· seungmin is capable of bringing himself back to a specific past event to alter the future outcome though it won’t work most of the time unless he really, really has to for safety purposes or the situation gets out of hands; time-leaping won’t activate if he wants to retake a test but works like a charm when he tries to save a kid on the street from a car accident.

· actually does deep, proper research into other ability-wielders and often stays in school during nighttime to read the news, articles or anything that he can find on the web to learn about how that one cryptic boarding school in Europe that’s accused of abusing their students got shut down all of a sudden, the students never return and family members never bother to look for them.

· hence, he adapts to hiding his ability and himself fairly well—never takes the late-night buses, doesn’t try to become close and bond with other people, asks his parents to change the door lock every month, burns bills each time he purchases something but he tries not to go out as much as possible.

· seungmin has seen hyunjin use his power once by accident but decided to say nothing about it; eventually finds chan’s headquarter (which is just his crusty apartment) by following jisung and hyunjin after their practice hour, baffles them all a little but joins in no time.

· after asking hyunjin to erase his parents’ memory about himself, seungmin gives everyone a hand for their plan of building a school and campus, completely safe and under the radar for other ability welders until their adolescence is over; he time-leaps back to back in order to collect as much information about lottery tickets as he can.

· another flaw occurs when he travels to the past for the third time: his eyesight gets weaker and weaker every time he time-leaps so he starts wearing glasses as a temporary resolution but chan stops him when he tries to do it for the fifth time, saying that they would rather work hard for a little longer than have seungmin lose his vision forever.

· after over a year or so, they successfully repurchase an education organization and officially establish an exclusive academy for ability-wielders, reaching out to those individuals before scientists can get a hold of them.

— yang jeongin ↠ superhuman speed

· the quiet kid who most likely won’t talk unless the teacher asks him to answer a question or someone tells him to let them copy his homework; has his earbuds in most of the time to pretend he can’t hear what people are saying so he won’t have to interact with them.

· joins after you when chan finds him hitting a wall head-on at an abnormal speed while trying to save a kitten in the middle of the streets.

· jeongin has extremely enhanced agility and reflexes but he still lacks accuracy for he is naturally a clumsy person; therefore, changbin tells him to wear a protective layer under his uniform so even in the worst-case scenario, he can jump off a building and make it out with minor scratches.

· reluctantly buys lunch for every member of the student council (aka 00 liners + you) on a daily basis although he can’t really see which kind of sandwiches he’s grabbing at and they end up being mushy most of the time.

· and for those people who say his resting face is scary, he’s mainly just frustrated because of his friends.

· also usually is the one who returns with the most injuries because of his own ability—he always flees like his life depends on it to save jisung’s ass from being hit by a truck and hyunjin’s camera from being crushed (the sole purpose of the student council will be explained more thoroughly later).

· has single-handedly saved everyone inside a bookstore when a sudden fire breaks out.

· minho scolds him and felix a lot for spending too much time at the arcade after school instead of doing their required tasks.

· acts all tough and mature since he’s the youngest of the squad, loves to make fun of jisung for his height but still is and probably will always be a complete child who hates eating vegetables with a passion; gets yelled at a lot whenever there’s a BBQ party since he only ever eats meat.

· “corn? why are we raiding the Asian market for corn at one AM?”

· “an outdoor, wholesome BBQ isn’t complete without corn, duh.”

· “do you want to get us caught?!”

· “oh please, they’re going to show up either way.”

· “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!”

— y/n (reader) ↠ telepathic manipulation

· president of the student council, stubborn, slightly less bossy than seungmin, appears to be apathetic and cranky mainly because you can’t sleep that well; with that being said, you don’t feel too tired during ungodly hours when people are tossing around in the comfort of their bed but snap at irritating people a lot in the morning if they’re making too much noise.

· your ability allows you to control people to your will, from something as meaningless as slamming their head through a wall to life-threatening actions like forcing them to point a knife at their own throat; it’s somewhat similar to jisung’s power though you don’t have to physically feel what your target is going through and you don’t need to worry about taking over their body.

· the only downside to it is that you easily fall asleep the moment you set your target free.

· minho is the one who gets you out of the laboratory where your parents were working on a huge, secret project about individuals with supernatural abilities for an unknown organization; you’re unfortunate enough to become their first-ever experimental subject which only nourishes resentment slowly, gnawing at your sanity while you’re dreading each day behind those cold metal bars.

· perhaps joining the student council is what makes your life less depressing, perhaps; you’re far too busy facepalming at the beautiful monstrosity of their friendship and feeding them ensuing returning to the dorm after school since those boys only know how to eat, cooking is too much for them to comprehend (albeit felix).

· when your family was still… normal, your parents sent you to martial art classes every weekend so like felix, you don’t actually need your power to save yourself from some random mobsters on the streets.

· you’re also the only person who eats vegetables properly and even tries to incorporate more fiber into their diets but as always, they never listen, especially hyunjin when it comes to green onions.

· don’t have the best reputation in the academy because the idea of letting the new girl with a seemingly useless ability become president of the student council isn’t very appealing to many people, and it doesn’t help when every member of the council is exclusively allowed to drop out in the middle of a class to ‘collect’ any ability-wielders that chan manages to locate that day since he’s always worn out with changbin and minho from boring paperwork as well as other businessy stuff.

· even when your ability is considered almost perfect, you’ve only used it once when you thought minho was going to sell you off to another place and almost made him put a bullet through his own brain; you’ve refrained yourself from using it since that day.

123 notes · View notes

idkwhatthistbh · 1 year

Text

There is no way Wednesdays braids don’t hurt and she doesn’t get that “my hairs been up all day” headache and yea there is a high chance she’d just enjoy that pain but i can’t help but think of Enid using her claws and running them through her scalp/hair and giving her a head massage

#wenclair #enid sinclair #wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #i am experiencing extreme brain rot help #i need a season 2 #please netflix i’m begging

1K notes · View notes

flowercrown-bucky · 4 years

Text

Trouble has never looked so good - But then again, it’s never been wearing a push-up bra before.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

Word Count: 3084

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter One]

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger.

During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.

A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense.

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED.

LIFE on Asgard was unbearably normal.

It was fine. If anything, it was too fine.

There was only so much feasting and so many council meetings one could take, you know?

Loki had stalked off to his chambers, muttering to his brother that he needed time to focus his magic.

He didn't, of course. Odin's lecturing on diplomatic decorum had simply become mind numbingly dull and it seemed like the most suitable excuse.

Loki's chambers were in a prime position. It was, after all, the reason he had coerced his older brother into switching with him when they were both around three hundred years old. He was roughly a hundred yards from the palace kitchens, something that well suited his secret midnight-snacking habit, and about as far from the Allfather and Allmother's chambers as he could possibly be, something that well suited his secret midnight sneaking-out habit.

However, the thing he loved most about his chambers, was the proximity to the palace orchard. If he stepped through the doors onto the balcony, he could grip the railings and sort of kamikaze himself over, before dropping the two-or-so-feet distance between him and the floor, and it was this that had made him want to occupy this chamber so badly.

He'd loved the orchard ever since he was a little boy. It was his safe spot, somewhere he had gone to hide from the world, where nothing could harm him or make him feel anything he didn't want to. He liked to take a book with him, and read under the shade of the apple trees until someone came to retrieve him.

It was here he had considered retreating to when he remembered the girl kneeling between his legs.

She was, Loki believed, a princess of Vanaheim, visiting Asgard with her father. Sex was not something that particularly concerned him, but he had left the council hall feeling rather frustrated, and the remarkably attractive woman had practically thrown herself at him.

If a beautiful woman desired to fellate him, who was he to complain?

It was, however, doing nothing for him - so much so he had forgotten she was even there.

"You can stop now." He wasn't entirely gentle when he tugged her off him, opting to do so with the help of a handful of her hair, but ,hey, he was extremely frustrated and she had been no help in the easing of that frustration.

"I can-"

"Nope." He waved a hand dismissively at the woman, leaving her to gather her clothes and dignity from where they'd been discarded in the floor. Girls were far more his brother's thing.

The only satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had had been on Midgard, some ten years before. Her name was Elizabeth, and she wanted to be an actress. With a head of carefully constructed dark curls and unusual violet coloured eyes, she was positively electrifying. She'd liked Loki's regal manner, assumed he was important. He'd been looking for a way to unwind and had yet to find it in a bottle of whiskey. They had, you might say, used each other equally.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Midgard, however, didn't seem like too bad an idea.

The mortals, he thought, were funny. Their funny little ways, their funny little habits, their funny little emotions.

He rather liked that idea. Midgard it was to be, then.

Las Vegas, was perhaps, the worst place he had ever been. Crawling with perhaps the worst specimens humanity had to offer, and drowning in immorality, Vegas was perhaps the physical embodiment of iniquity.

Perhaps the underbelly of the world, Vegas combined all aspects of bigotry - racism, misogyny, pride. Men traded their lives away to pay to warm the sheets of women condemned to a life of misery, destined to while their days away in some clandestine pact with dingy hotel rooms.

Not Vegas, Loki thought to himself.

New York, he was not particularly fond of either. It was much too cold and full of self importance. The people were, largely, cold and unpleasant, and the food was something he could never get behind.

Europe he had not visited for a long while since. It had been stricken by an unpleasant pox last time he had visited, covering the suffering with boils as large as the palm as his hand. He’d begrudgingly lent his healing skills to the ailing people. After all, he really didn’t like the smell of rotting flesh.

He wasn’t altogether pleased with the likenesses the people later formed in the name of worship.

In all honesty, they made him look rather greasy and weaselly.

—

Montecarlo, Loki thought, might be a little more interesting than he'd initially thought. Possibly, his favourite place he'd visited on Midgard.

It was like a hive of temptation, the culmination of human greed. Nowhere on earth quite said luxury like a city dressed to the nines, and Loki loved it.

It was far better than his previous visits, wherein he had found the planet stricken by various bouts of violence and deadly plagues.

1973, with its penchant for sex, drugs and rock'n'roll was far more to his taste.

He had, in the short time he'd been in the city, become very well acquainted with the calibrate of person who liked to visit. Men with enough class to never let an expletive pass their lips within company, but perfectly happy to snort narcotics off the seats of public toilets using a ten dollar bill that was on its fourth use.

Women loyal enough to remain on the arm of one gentleman for the whole of an evening but not opposed to a quick fuck in a back alley from a tall dark stranger with a mysterious smile.

Sex was not something Loki was particularly concerned with, but he did enjoy the sense of power he got from looking directly into the eyes of a man whose wife he had made come undone not ten minutes earlier.

Humans, he noted, were no different to the savage tribes of Muspelheim. They just hid it better, under expensive clothes and university degrees and layers of makeup.

This was not something he necessarily was bothered by. He was having far too good a time for that.

Casinos, he had taken a real liking to. Money was another thing that held no meaning for him, but cheating pompous assholes out of what they believed was rightfully theirs?

That, he could get behind, and it seemed he was not alone in that.

He had been watching you all evening, as you worked your way around the room.

You were dressed to kill, and the man you'd turned your attentions to looked like he would gladly die if it would please you.

One hand stroking his *ahem* ego, and the other stealing his wallet.

You were perfect.

Mischief was on his agenda, and you looked like a wonderful accomplice.

He'd approached you quietly, a gentle hand on your shoulder, his lips by your ear.

"Well, hello." He'd murmured, as you turned to face him. "Who might you be?"

You'd practically preened at the sudden attention, clearly very pleased with the idea of a second conquest of the evening.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare." You bit your red painted lip, your eyes trailing the length of him. Your glance was cold, calculating - pretty much everything Loki appreciated in a woman.

For a moment, he wondered if you were to kill him, how you would carry out the act. He felt almost as if he would appreciate it.

You looked like a poisoner, he decided. Less messy, less loose ends to take care of.

“And what, exactly, does my worst nightmare take to drink?” He could feel the smug grin growing on his face. “I am well acquainted with the torment of the unconscious mind.”

You were taken aback, that much he could see from your face. For someone so experienced with hustling card games, you did not have much of a poker face.

His smile grew. Unsettling people was one of his very favourite things.

“Champagne.” You still gnawed at your lip, but the reasoning, he could tell, had changed - if he didn’t know better, he’d think you were quite literally biting back a smile.

“A lady after my own heart.” He replied. “You have good taste.”

“Only the best.” You lifted your glass towards him.

“I’ll drink to that.”

The course of the evening made abundant to Loki exactly how you operated. You were fairly certain you had him in the palm of your hand, that much he could tell - and it was certainly amusing to play along with it.

You played your role well, and that was something he admired. You allowed him to lead the conversation, showering his ego with praise and affirmation. You fiddled with your hair as you spoke, twisting it around your index finger before draping it over your clavicle, trailing towards your ample bosom.

You occasionally - intentionally - licked at your lip as you spoke, your tongue coyly tracing your plump bottom lip, tilting your head to the side as if to show how truly intrigued you were by what he was saying, exposing a good deal of neck in the process.

It truly was a shame, he thought, that mortal men were unable to see the brains, the intellect, behind the beauty - or more specifically, the bust.

Midgardian men were truly unable to see exactly what they possessed, but on Asgard, you would’ve been celebrated, treasured even, for the power of your mind.

It was a great pity, Loki thought, and rather unfortunate for their wallets.

You’d kept him on his toes since you’d first spoken. You were keeping him on his toes now.

He watched you as you spoke to the woman next to you. You were so careful, every movement deliberate, purposeful.

You played your part well. In a knee-length blue dress, you largely left the curves of your body to the imagination. The imagination, however, was aided by how the material clung to your hips and your more than ample bosom. Almost every male eye in the room was on you.

You made your way back over to where he lent on the bar. You seemed to enjoy toying with him. As to why, he could not fathom.

You waved a bottle of champagne in his face, before topping up his own glass.

“Consider the favour...” You flashed a smile at him that was utterly to die for. “Repaid.”

He ran a hand through his long hair, catching your gaze.

If he was an ordinary man, he would be truly fucked.

“So, tell me.” His voice came out as something closer to a purr than anything else. “How does a woman such as yourself turn to petty crime?” If it were possible to display every element of the spectrum of human emotion in one simultaneous instant, Loki was sure it would look very similar to how your face currently looked.

Almost as quickly as it had come over you, it was gone. The mask returned and you flashed him a coy grin.

“What gave me away?” Your left eyebrow quirked.

“I’m perceptive.” He smiled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m better.”

“What are you, a cop?” Your voice was calm, level. It was almost completely impossible to detect the emotions behind it.

“Please.” He scoffed. “I have a proposal for you.”

Your arm dropped to your side. Your face remained unchanged, but the mischief, the slight twinkle in your eye, was gone.

“Meet me outside the toilets in five minutes.” Your voice was hoarse. You turned away from him with a swish of apple-scented hair, taking a step away from him.

He reached out, catching your wrist. You stumbled slightly, grabbing at the bar to steady yourself.

“I’m not interested in sex, if that’s what you think.” His voice dropped.

“Then what do you want?” You spun to face him.

“If you show me, I’ll show you.” He grinned at you.

“Show me, what, exactly?” You asked, intrigued.

“Everything.” He whispered. His hand came up to your face, taking your chin gently inbetween his forefinger and thumb. He turned your head gently from side to side, before tilting it back. You watched with curious eyes, but allowed him to rest his hand on your forehead.

He closed his eyes slowly, his consciousness seeping through his body, penetrating your mind.

It was an odd place, your mind. He’d never been in any other quite like it. There had always been a lot going on, in people’s minds. They were.. furnished. Most appeared as a place, at least - a childhood home, a favourite place - but yours was remarkably empty.

Enormous black units surrounded him, rows upon rows of boxes reaching as far as his eyes could see. The only other thing present within your mind was a chair, upon which you sat.

It was tall and as black as the shelves. The back faced him, your legs slung either side of it, your elbow resting on the top. Your chin rested on your fist, and you watched him as he adjusted to your surroundings, one eyebrow bemusedly quirked.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled. “Sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know, inside my head.”

Loki laughed.

“Your mind is intriguing, little one.” He walked towards one of the units to get a closer look, lifting a hand to open one. It didn’t budge.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You teased.

“Just the pretty ones.” He tugged again, a little harder. “What’s in these boxes?“

“My deepest secrets.” You replied curtly. “How do you do this, anyway? You don’t get many people who can waltz into your mind uninvited around here.”

“I told you, you show me, and I’ll show you.” He left the boxes, walking over to where you sat. He circled you a few times, looking around for anything else within your mind. “I am not of this world.”

“No shit.” You grumbled.

“Ladies first.” He grinned. “I want to know how you do it. Then you will get your answers.”

“Then get out of my head.” You replied. “The only person in here to scam is you, and it’s not quite the same when someone knows you’re going to rob them.”

“Very well.” Loki snapped his fingers.

You opened your eyes with a gasp as he lifted his hand from your forehead.

“Never do that again.” You warned.

He chuckled, lifting his hand to support his head, looking at you expectantly.

“I’m waiting.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Where shall we start?”

You leant across the table towards Loki.

“That one.” You tilted your head towards the left.

He lifted his head, looking up for the man you’d singled out. The ginger in the double breasted suit? The lanky blonde with the knock knees? The man bun?

No.

He knew the one.

“Clammy hands.” He mused. “Look at the discoloration on the front of his trousers. The pigment has been lost from repeatedly wiping his hands on them. He has sweaty hands.”

“Can I keep you?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Why him?” He asked. “How do you choose?”

“I don’t.” You replied. “They sort of... reveal themselves. They look at me. Stare at me. All I have to do is look back.”

“And from there?”

“The art of robbing someone just comes down to sleight of hand. Same as hustling a card game.” You glanced over at the man. “I used to do magic tricks with cards and make people’s car keys disappear as a kid. I picked it up from there.”

“Impressive.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why do you do it?”

“This world has not been kind to me.” You sighed. “Besides, life is so much more interesting with a little chaos.”

He chuckled, placing both of his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his face.

“Do you fuck all of them?” He raised one eyebrow.

“Just the pretty ones.” Your face cracked into a wide smile.

He stared at you for a second. This beautiful, conniving woman in front of him, the poison that resided in your mind, the deadliness that lay in your hands.

In all honesty, it excited him.

You’d intrigued him since he’d very first laid eyes on you, and every moment since, that intrigue had grown. Who were you really? What were you?

For the first time that evening, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know your name.

He got the feeling that if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him the truth. You weren’t that stupid.

You were hiding from something, he was fairly sure. Being in hiding was something he was all too familiar, and if there was anything he had learned in his five thousand years of life, it was how to spot when someone was on the run.

“I believe you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, little criminal.” He murmured.

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” You pursed your red painted lips.

“A partner in crime.” He replied. “A fellow mischief maker, if you will.”

“You could be a serial killer.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“So could you.” He said curtly. “I entered your mind and you’ve just explained how you con and rob people, but yet, here we both still are.”

You blinked, shifting so you were leaning on your left side. Your expression was thoughtful - you were considering his suggestion.

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal?” You asked.

“You saw what I did earlier.” He leaned forwards on his forearms. “I will open your mind to things you cannot currently even begin to comprehend.”

“Okay. I’ll bite.” You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a sip. “I accept your offer.”

“I must tell you.” He warned. “You will be playing with fire.” You set your glass down on the table, before leaning back in your seat. You turned your head to the left briefly, tossing your hair over one shoulder. You crossed one leg over the other as you turned back to face him. Your eyes found his, a gaze that truly seemed to be looking into his soul, and you smiled.

“Luckily for you, I like to watch things burn.”

TAGLIST: @possessedjoker @amour-delicate

#loki x reader #loki smut #tom hiddleston x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki/reader #loki au #loz writes loki

90 notes · View notes

maidenariana · 5 years

Text

Post-Op with No Regrets

by Ariana Danielle Wojcik 11/15/2018

You have probably seen certain headlines or heard certain talking points being discussed over the airwaves such as these:

“Sex Reassignment Doesn’t Work!”

“De-transitioners and Transgender Regret”

“Sex Change Horror Story”

et al.

Exactly one incredible year ago today, and three years after beginning hormone replacement therapy, I underwent gender confirmation surgery or GCS. My results and my story are the polar opposite of these frightening headlines that are part of a narrative being pushed by certain groups.

Folks, lean in close and listen.. it works!

My life is good, great, and wonderful with respect to my surgery and its results. If this surgery is in your future and you are nervous about it and have read the horror stories, know that most of us come out of it with the results we were hoping for. It is major surgery, so you have to expect a long carefully monitored recovery. For me, it was so very worth it. In addition, the common feared road blocks of transition from legal name changes, identity document updates, workplace transition, the disapproval of certain family members, dealing with the loss of loved ones, laser treatments, online attacks, disapproving stares, being purposely misgendered and dead-named, countless blood tests, injections galore, electrolysis (even in the nether regions before surgery), the nightmare of dealing with insurance companies and billing departments, were all things I had to face. I would still say despite all of that, it was all worth it!

There are many risks, just as there are with any major surgery. There are possible side effects that could cause life long issues. This is all known and will be explained to prospective surgical candidates in minute detail by any surgeon performing this operation. This surgery is never undertaken lightly and represents the end result of years of refinement and accepted medical practice.

This does not sit well with those who want to vilify not only transgender people, but their doctors, therapists, surgeons, and parents. Transgender people are under attack at every level and this includes a targeted effort on whether or not transitions should even be allowed. As an example, I suggest you search for information about the plan of attack of the anti-LGBT hate group ironically named the “Family Research Council”. The problem with all of the efforts from groups like the FRC is that their hatred and dismissal of the existence of transgender people is based on their own “beliefs” and not on reality. The medical professionals who actually study and understand this topic fully support the practices of hormone replacement therapy, and gender confirmation surgery for those that require either treatment. They do this because it is the right, and extremely successful treatment path for many transgender people. Transgender people exist and have been a part of the human condition throughout history. Attempting to erase us from history will not succeed. These groups like the FRC are wasting their time, breath, and money from donors who often do not even realize they are funding hate.

Many transgender women contact me every week asking questions about my transition and surgery, often expressing worry that surgery is a long shot to be successful. When external efforts to cast doubt and fear on transgender health practices cause confusion among those who deeply need help, it is time to speak up. I am writing all of this to try and address those concerns and to discount some of the stigma regarding this surgery and transition.

Can you find examples out there of people who regretted transitioning?

Yes, you can find a small number of cases of people who experience regret. In fact you can find those rather easily because those cases are purposely and inaccurately touted by motivated anti-LGBT groups as the “consistent and unfortunate experience” for those who have this surgery. This is not accurate. Thousands and thousands of transition related surgeries are performed every year by surgeons across the globe. There is a growing number of surgeons in the United States and the numbers of surgeries performed is only growing, not shrinking. My surgery was performed in Chicago, IL by one of the more recent additions to the experts in this field.

Do I worry that no surgery could ever make me a real (insert societal definition of a certain gender type here)?

Nope, not a concern. I underwent gender confirmation surgery because it was right for me. My doctors, (yes plural), my surgical team, my therapist and psychiatrist (a therapist and psychiatrist are both required by the WPATH standards of care) all agreed that this surgery was right for me as a medically accepted treatment for my personal health and well being. Who is anyone else to think they have a right to get in between that circle of people? My doctors, surgical team, therapist, psychiatrist, and I are the only ones that should have input into whether or not gender confirmation surgery is right for me. Every other person on the planet should rightfully decline from attempting to insert themselves into that discussion. To do so is to tamper with things they do not understand. This goes for people in government, religious institutions, water-cooler discussions at the office, people online, family members at Thanksgiving dinner, really anyone. Do not presume you know better than the true experts involved in a person’s care. The surgeons who perform this medically necessary surgery should never have their professionalism questioned in the slightest bit.

Detractors will try to argue semantics about whether or not this surgery actually changes a person’s sex/gender often interchanging the two as if they are synonyms (they are not). By now most people have probably heard the commonly used quips, such as the often tweeted “you can’t change chromosomes” (which of course is now widely accepted to be an inadequate single determining factor of one’s gender). We could spend time refuting every “argument” but I simply see no need for me to do so. Do you know why? I AM HAPPY. Now at age 44 as a “late transitioner,” my life is just one of many that are the ultimate refute to all of those who attempt to misinform and to spread hate regarding transition and surgery.

Four years ago, I was suddenly happier than I had ever been just weeks after beginning hormone replacement therapy or HRT. Having your body and brain in sync with the correct hormones alleviates so many of the issues that transgender people face. It is something that has to be experienced to fully understand it. I was more in sync after starting HRT than I had ever been as a human being. It only got better from there as the hormone replacement therapy advanced and slowly over time did its work to reshape my body. It is funny how many of the detractors out there do not even understand what hormone replacement therapy actually entails. Our hormone levels are closely monitored by our doctors and this means that at any given time we know our levels are the same as those of any non-transgender woman. With that comes the expected changes to our bodies. Yes, we do actually grow breasts and our body shape can dramatically change only with HRT. I have had people admit to me they assumed all transgender women get breast augmentation, not knowing that we “grow our own”. It’s a second puberty after all and a “body reset”. We experience not only the obvious breast growth and softer, thicker hair, but softer skin, changes in things like our overall temperament, sense of smell, sense of touch, range of emotion (such highs and lows now!), energy levels, and most importantly, we find a sense of peace within ourselves. It’s miraculous what finally having the right hormones for our transgender bodies does for us. The happiness I experienced was so palpable that it just flowed out of me constantly. Despite the difficult circumstances brought about in social transition, the physical transition is life giving and life affirming. Gender confirmation surgery, for some like me, takes all of that happiness to another level of magnitude. No regrets.

What were my reasons for having surgery?

Was I “so gay” that I just had to have surgery so I could have sex with men?

Nope, it’s all about just being me. “Just be you,” became my mantra. Even if I never had sex with anyone else again, surgery was still my path. In fact, sex and future sexual prospects were of very little concern to me as I sought help. The gender (binary or non!) of any current or future sexual partners of mine is my business, but the point here is that a certain type of sex act was never a driving factor in the least bit in my decision to transition or to have surgery.

Was I some loser who could not cut it “as a man.”

Nope, I already had the “American Dream.” By American societal standards, I had it all. You would have known me then as a college grad with a successful career supporting a family on one income with a lovely house, two cars, a nice yard, and a garage. The problem was, there was the painful fact that I experienced all of that while not ever being free to be me. I stopped myself from being me because of fear and denial and eventually I had to address it because my health was starting to fail as I rotted from the inside out.

Was I a “pervert” that wanted to dress in women’s clothes because it excited me sexually, so much so that I would undergo surgery for the privilege?

No. Are you serious? Not even close. The stigma and hatred towards transgender women specifically gets a lot of fuel from the lie that we are perverts or sexually driven (As a side note, it is interesting how transgender men are not targeted the same way). Far right religious groups are nothing but consistent when it comes to attacking sexually driven behavior of all kinds. Please understand that I am not judging fetish driven cross-dressers here. I am merely pointing out that there is a difference between us. Heterosexual cross-dressers are men who choose to wear women’s clothing because it excites them. They can spend time enjoying that practice, but then they happily go back to their often very manly and very “normal” life. When people open up their minds and accept that people can be born transgender, then they can also understand that what is different about us is that we are simply wearing the clothing that is appropriate for our gender. I was actually being forced to crossdress in men’s clothing most of my life because I was not being honest with myself about the fact that I was a transgender woman. Nowadays, I regularly get excited about finding a super cute dress on sale and will tweet about it and post pics on Instagram for my girlfriends to see. “Look at the bargain I found!” They get excited and I get excited. I just don’t get that excited. Am I being clear enough there? It doesn’t turn me on. Get it now? The same goes for heels and tights. Nope, no heels or tights fetish here. I like practical boots and sandals. I work in an office you all, so wearing tights is called for with certain outfits, it does not mean I am a walking, quivering, mass of constant sexual excitement because I own and wear tights. I should be so lucky if it were that easy! Do some transgender women have a particular thing for heels or tights? Sure they do, but then any given human being regardless of gender can also have a “thing” for tights or heels or other things. All people have kinks, it’s a part of life. I am so glad we do, otherwise we would be a boring species. I am merely further pointing out that the stereotype that transgender women are by default fetishists regarding clothing and sex fantasies is complete garbage. We may have other kinks just like anyone else, but don’t falsely assign to me things that just aren’t there!

Was I ever suicidal?

No, I was not healthy though. Until I made the decision to finally admit to myself and the world at large that I was transgender, my health was at a steady drastic decline. By the time I finally began to accept myself, I was overweight (over 65 lbs lost by this point), with high-cholesterol and on cholesterol medication, considered pre-diabetic, and I was experiencing heart palpitations regularly. I reduced and eliminated all of those negative health conditions by transitioning and beginning to actually care about myself and my body again.

Eventually, staying in shape and being mindful of what I put into my body became easy once I began to accept and love myself for who I was.

You can see much more regarding my transition on my advocacy website and specifically you may want to check out my Gender Reveal Pictorial and my Full Timeline.

Other Questions to Address

Did you worry about dying alone and unloved if you underwent surgery?

No. Despite what people like Ray Blanchard think. The often quoted transphobe once tweeted “One social problem of MTF trans can’t be solved by legislation: Finding attractive men or women who want to sleep with them”. I did not worry about dying alone and I am very happy to report that dating has been an amazing experience since I began transitioning (both pre and post op). Dating is all about conquering your own fears about the act of dating itself, whether you are a transgender person or not. Also, people who are confident and comfortable with who they are tend to have the most success when dating. Aside from dating, I have built a large group of friends since beginning transition. Being happy with myself allowed me to connect with people more easily and through a purposeful effort of making social connections by attending events and joining groups I was interested in. I now have a much larger collection of friends than I ever have had in my life.

What should you do when you see a quote from someone with a PhD who detracts from the practice of HRT and GCS?

Know that they likely have a paper trail of transphobia or are part of an organization that is backed by known LGBT hate groups. Do actual research and see what is behind their statements, and you will likely find an agenda. My agenda in writing about this is not to promote “turning people transgender” as if that was even possible. My agenda is to speak out against the lies, stigma, and misinformation that for a long time prevented me from being myself and being happy living the life I was meant to lead, which I am now privileged to be doing. I made it through. I am a success story like many others who came before me. I have zero regret and zero shame about the fact that I was born a transgender woman. I also have zero regrets regarding undergoing surgery. Rather than falling silent and again hiding, I wish to clearly tell my sisters out there that they need to know transition and even the big scary surgery that is possibly in your future was all worth it for me.

At long last, I have achieved the basic equilibrium of self that everyone else in the world who is not transgender has a much better hope of finding. Most of you reading this had the privilege of being complete after your first puberty. It took me two, followed by an amazing surgical procedure to find that equilibrium of self. Other than those differences, we are all just people. Transgender people deserve the same level of respect that you would provide any other person. You may “not understand” us, but have you actually tried to? Are you instead believing the negative things being said about us? We do not seek special rights or privileges that take away from your rights. Our fight is about our safety and our basic rights (the same rights you hold to be self-evident) being protected.

How do you remain positive despite the climate in this country and in the world at large for transgender people?

It is amazing what freeing yourself from the concern of what other people think of you can do for your well being. Most human beings have a tendency to want to conform to what those around us expect of us even if it is completely contradictory to who we are as a person. Overcoming that fear of letting people know who we really are is a key part of every human being’s growth and speaks to their level of maturity as an individual. By overcoming that fear and beginning to transition, it is easy for me to project positivity because that just flows from me now. Being right with yourself is a major key to happiness. It makes you a better person. It makes you a better partner, parent, friend, boss, employee, and a better citizen of the world.

Do you still experience lack of acceptance from friends or family?

Unfortunately, in certain cases, yes I do. However, that sadness will never eclipse the happiness and overwhelming level of acceptance I have received from so many others, but most importantly, from myself! By the way, one of the best days in my life mid-transition was when after giving them many months to adjust by wearing only androgynous clothing, both of my children told me, “You can come pick us up ‘as yourself’ today!” One of the first things they said upon seeing me ‘as myself’ was, “Oh it’s not really that different. You are still just you.” Yes. They nailed it. Also, I have reconnected even with many friends from my past whom I had made the mistake of pulling away from before I transitioned.

Do you think there is an age that is too young to transition?

I would not for one second attempt to insert myself into that circle I mentioned before of doctors, surgical teams, therapists, psychiatrists, and their patients, and in some cases the parents of young patients. It is for them to decide on the best care and approach and timing. As a young child, growing up in such a different time period, I was unable to express what was going on inside. The explanations were all hidden from me back then and I did not know how to vocalize any of this. I learned to fear it all at a very young age. I could never have imagined the wonderful possibilities my life would hold at that young age or even well into my thirties when I was still fighting against fear, stigma, and self hatred instead of acceptance. You have no idea the damage that causes over time and the wonderful release of it all once it is gone.

How do we get past the stereotypes that stop us all from communicating?

I was able to transition in place while still working with my long standing employer. It is a company based in Alabama and I was at first worried about the attitudes and reaction I would receive from the people in my company who live down South. I have to apologize, because this was an example of me believing in stereotypes. I was so wrong to do that. Thank you to all of my co-workers for proving I was in the wrong to worry about that. We all to some extent can let stereotypes influence us, which is why I bother to try to educate the general public about people like me. Some day, I hope you all have the privilege of knowing someone who has transitioned. Chances are that you already do and may not know it. Please consider looking past stereotypes, misconceptions, and those using hate as a weapon and become a more vocal supporter of transgender people. You might just learn you are already a friend to one of us.

Well, at least now you know one. My name is Ariana, and I am Post-op with No Regrets!

LGBT Hate Group List provided by the SPLC: https://www.splcenter.org/fighting-hate/extremist-files/ideology/anti-lgbt

Post-Op with No Regrets was originally published on arianadanielle.com - Visit this page for full size images and the most recent version of this story.

#Ariana's Transition Pics #decade of Ari #gender confirmation surgery #gender transition #girls like us #girlslikeus #post-op and no regrets #postop #trans is beautiful #transgender #transgender woman #transisbeautiful

2K notes · View notes

thesickpanda · 4 years

Text

Where is My Mind?

Stress can make you feel like you're going crazy.

I cannot emphasize this enough. Long-term, persistent and intense stress well above your baseline levels can make you feel like you're losing your mind.

Life is stressful and when I think back to when the intense periods of stress started in mine it gets a bit ridiculous because I grew up in a domestically violent household with severely mentally ill parents in a country on the brink of civil war with one of the highest crime rates in the world. So I have been kinda stressed for a very long time. However, in more recent months, the level of acute stress I've been experiencing has made me feel disconnected from reality. I've experienced derealisation a number of times due to Lyrica withdrawal and accidental cannabis highs. But this one is different. The depersonalisation I’ve been experiencing is from pure, unrelenting stress. I really did question my sanity more than once.

In July, I saw my psychologist to describe this feeling to her. She very helpfully drew a diagram which explained the neuroscience of why we feel this way when we've experienced high levels of stress for a long time. It was really helpful to see that because it reassured me that what I was feeling was, as much as this can be said, "normal", given the amount of strain I was under. But the stress hasn’t let up since then and I have been well above my baseline for much too long.

Long story short, I haven't really recovered since my family visited me last year. 2018 was a year from hell. 2019 hasn’t been much better but for different reasons. Basically, the hardships I’ve endured being the leader of a non-profit all these years reached critical mass and finally, at long last, broke me. After 8 years of pouring all my heart, soul and every last spoon I had into it, I quit last month…and to very little fanfare at that. 3 people turned up for our final meeting, and only because we needed to hand them the organization’s physical assets. We had a little unplanned dinner out and that was that.

I'm grateful to the handful of people who have reassured me they will continue its legacy beyond my departure, genuinely I am, but overall I think I stayed in that position at least a year longer than I should have. I feel incredibly jaded and cynical about the whole thing.

And I’m sorry if this offends anyone, but screw Sydney’s activists. The vast majority of them can barely call themselves that. I have never been in such an apathetic, vain, self-centered and lazy city when it comes to political activism. This migrant has had enough of trying to get Australians to care about their own issues. (And yeah, the people I handed the non-profit over to? Also migrants).

It is telling that the final meeting was also the night before we moved house (because we always had to wrap our own lives around the goings on of that organisation, not the other way around, which is another major reason we quit). So after an hour and a half’s drive into the city, we had to get home late to get up early the next day to start that fun process.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Before we ever got to moving day, we first had to find a house. If you haven’t done it before, let me tell you, the process of house hunting on a tight budget in a hostile market is disgustingly stressful.

We were looking from June. The property market in Sydney is unbelievably expensive and even though it experienced a so-called "correction" for a year, (meaning that house prices stabilized instead of continuing to rise), that ended just as we entered into the property hunt. I am extremely grateful that we got the house we did at the price we did, but my God, getting to that point nearly killed me. I keep explaining to people that it felt as if my partner and I ran full blast over broken glass to the edge of a dock, leapt several metres and grabbed onto the barnacles of a departing ship by our fingernails. I really do think we may have been among the last millennials that got on that “property” ship, and it was only because, at long last, we had help from my partner's extremely wealthy parents. After shaming us for a decade for not being able to afford impossible house prices (“ok boomer…”), he finally relented and helped us out. Again, I'm grateful, but also disgusted that this is the world we live in. Housing should be a human right and we shouldn't have this intergenerational greed and infighting over something so basic. Forgive my inner socialist.

Finding the house was only the first part of the equation; moving into it was the next step.

The moving process was incredibly arduous. At the time we should have been packing up the house, my partner's work decided to send him interstate for business on multiple occasions. By the time moving day came round, we were not ready and we couldn't afford to pay removalists. We enlisted the help of two amazing friends and Joe's brother-in-law. Again, super grateful that I had their help, but my God, was it intense. It took the better part of four days to move everything. We had to pay off the mortgage and the rent for the previous place for a two-week period, putting considerable strain on our savings. At the same time, we needed to get some work done in the new house so that was being done while we were trying to sort out the old house. The rental laws in this country are a joke and are widely considered to be abusive to renters, including by many of my American friends who now live here. I doubt we will ever see our bond returned, even though we were treated like crap living there for three years in a house that was not sealed, had no insulation or air conditioning, leaked and was draughty, didn't have proper doors et cetera et cetera. I mean, we had maggots falling from the ceiling… twice. The place was rotting and rotten but because my partner couldn't completely colour match the paint when he tried to cover up what was absolutely reasonable wear and tear on one of the walls, I'm sure we will lose all that. As usual, the landlord will claim it costs our entire $1800 bond to get a $50 an hour painter in to patch up one wall. They always do this. In your contract it says reasonable wear and tear are a few knocks and dings on the wall and that the tenant is not expected to pay for that. In reality, in every rental we have ever lived in, the landlord has refused to refund the bond when there’s been even the slightest bit of damage, even if we had a record of being model tenants. It was almost comical how hard my partner was trying in the middle of the move to cover up a few scrapes on the walls from moving furniture in and out. It all came to nothing because for love nor money he couldn't find the correct match of paint. And then of course he had to mow the entire grounds of the last rental when he really wanted to be using his weekends to sort out and unpack the new house. Good God, it was awful.

My partner and I barely spent any quality time together during this period and he was extremely stressed out and distant from me. I totally understand why but the whole thing flared every single one of my conditions and I needed him as my carer. But he couldn’t really do that, as he was trying to do literally everything else. Moving house is hard on a healthy body, never mind one with two chronic pain disorders, irritable bowel and generalised anxiety disorder. And then (because of course), a family member of mine (one of the abusers) picked that moment in time to start harassing me, thereby triggering my PTSD which led to a nervous breakdown which led to intense depersonalisation, insomnia and nausea. Everyone and everything seemed unfamiliar to me, even my partner. I started to doubt whether or not I loved myself or anyone else anymore. I just felt so completely and utterly disconnected from the world. I began to lie awake at night terrified that I was fading away, that I could no longer feel anything other than fear. All the time, people kept saying, “congratulations on the new house! You must be so excited!” But all I could feel was sickness and dread.

Two weeks after moving in, I had to drop my Lyrica one more time. This drop has been very difficult. All of the stress has led to some dark thoughts in the back of my mind which of course Lyrica then co-opts and exaggerates. I have had a more than a few moments of suicidal ideation. Everything in my life on paper has improved. We are now homeowners, we live in a beautiful part of the world, we've made some new friends lately, things are settling down et cetera et cetera. But I feel like I'm in shell shock after this year and last year. I haven't even had time to process that I am no longer the president of the not-for-profit I founded and formulated an identity around. I just haven't had the time to process literally anything. I've been more exhausted that I have ever felt. Oh, I'm sure everyone will say, “this too shall pass”. But I do not believe that bullshit. Yes, this individual stressor will pass but more horror will come and I know that makes me sound super negative but I just cannot remember a period of time when things were calm for… I can't remember. I just feel like I've been in a hurricane forever.

So yeah, I'm writing this post while experiencing Lyrica withdrawal which makes me depressed and anxious. It's probably colouring my vision on everything. Fine. But I have been going through Lyrica withdrawal for two years, so it’s kinda become my normal. My final drop is on 26 December after which I will experience two more months of withdrawal and hopefully, after that, some semblance of sanity again. In the midst of all this I have to study for my citizenship test which is at the end of this month. I don't get any government support for my disability until I have been a citizen of this country for eight years, and as I’d like to survive my 40s, I need to get citizenship now. But yeah… studying an eighty-page textbook with an addled brain is just so much fun.

Of course, during this time we haven’t have Internet because we had to disconnect the old place and it takes an age for it to get reconnected at the new place. We only recently acquired it at the new house. So there are piles of emails waiting for me. Many of them are from friends and I'm glad for that. But there is also a lot of life admin I now need to do. I have to change my address on every account I hold, which is really tedious. We have also had to organise time with family. Because my partner's family helped us get this house, we feel especially obliged to go to every single one of the family events, of which there are many. He comes from a big Catholic family so every relative who comes to visit, every party that's being held, every birthday, wedding, funeral and religious holiday, we’re now expect to attend. We have several in the next few weekends, taking up most of the time we *needed* to be unpacking the house. We’re obligated now.

In all this negativity, though, I want to say that I am genuinely grateful to be one of the lucky ones to have a house. I know it sounds like I am whining about a good thing. It's not that I'm not glad for this (I know how ridiculously privileged we are). I just haven't been able to really feel it yet. I think that regardless of what happened this year, I’d be feeling this way. Something broke in me last year and just hasn't really come back. I feel shattered.

And all my chronic pain conditions have been wearing me down too. I found out this year that the operation that cost me and my friends so much money (to remove that nerve in my foot) had failed. Or rather, the surgeon had completely botched it up. I have PTSD from that surgery. Just the thought of going back to have it done again fills me with heart racing terror and cold sweats. I’ve had numerous surgeries before that one and been fine, but the reaction I had from the anesthetic last time was so severe, and the recovery so long, that I genuinely fear it more than almost anything else. And yet I need to go in for that nightmare all over again in 2020. I'm going to be asked to trust a different surgeon to do the same so-called “simple operation” to restore some functionality to my left foot. My right knee is probably also going to need surgery since it has been resistant to any physiotherapy rehabilitation. And on top of all this, my poor partner's health has also taken a hit this year from the stress which is worrying me. Because I can always do with some more worry…

But hey! This too shall pass! You should be happy! Life is great now! Yay yay yay!

Fuck, sometimes it just want to be allowed to feel shit and to have other people say “okay you can feel shit now. Yes, some good things have happened but right now you need to process the bad and that's okay too”. My lord, if people could just do that for me. If they could just let me feel what the fuck I need to feel.

What I feel is exhausted, scared, freaked out, traumatized, weird, sick, angry, overwhelmed and fed up. And I need to feel those things before I can feel anything else.

#rant #Fibromylagia #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronic stress #stress #overwhelmed #personal catharsis

3 notes · View notes

stinkgh · 5 years

Text

personal ref #1 (tw:abuse)

Its been 2 days since what I’ve dubbed as Ground Zero. I had an initial rant typed out of anger, which is what I’ve been working through today; but I no longer feel so strongly enough to retype those thoughts as they came to me. Instead I’ll just give the trigger: my mother doesn’t remember the time she beat me with a baseball bat because I have trichtillomania (trich for short; hair pulling impulse control/ obsessive compulsive disorder) and she didn’t know why I was doing that/thought she could beat it out of me. But let me back up and try to tell this properly. I want to document this as I go and today was a great day of progress.

2 days ago she called me and told me she was dying of COPD, said she was getting ready to visit everyone and I told her I didn’t want to see her and was not going to her funeral. She said that was a bold statement and I engaged with purpose to finally say the things I am tired of keeping silent; and as usual narcissistic personalities go she talked over me and shifted blame/ claimed to be ignorant to the things I told her. “What bat? Who beat you with a baseball bat?” This is known as gaslighting, though whether or not she truly doesn’t remember is something I will never know (she is prone to psychosis- bipolar) and honestly, I feel like this is such great closure because this perfectly sums up the entirety of our relationship: Me telling her she’s hurt me and she not giving one single flying fuck, invalidating me by deflecting blame and making it seem like reality as I percieved it is not real because she is in the wrong. Makes it feel like I’m the crazy one. Textbook gaslighting. I phoned my aunt and asked her if she remembered; she immediately said yes and then as soon as I thanked her for the validation she started to backpedal by saying she “couldn’t remember a bat per se, but there was a physical altercation and I intervened, didn’t I?” No. No you did not. You sat in the living room while I cried and honestly, look at you. You beat me too and then would tell me “clean your face” so mom wouldn’t ask about it.

Again I say, perfect resolution because I’m done trying with these people. 5 years we’ve been going back and fourth; I keep thinking maybe this is it, maybe this is the change I’ve been looking for and we can finally have that mother-daughter bond I’d like to have with her; and every time I let my guard down she calls me drunk to remind me of how much she doesn’t fucking care about anything but herself. That day I found out that she’s been blackmailing my dad in order to contact me and ain’t that sum shit because as I sat out of my mind in the ER that night waiting on crisis to talk to me I actually said, “Maybe I am wrong, she’s said she’s been in therapy so maybe she is doing better. Maybe I’m wrong.” No. I’m not wrong. She kept saying, “Do you want to talk to my therapist?” and why would I want to do that? Why would your therapist talk to me? They wouldn’t out of confidentiality. When I confronted her about my trich I heard her take a HUGE breath in, it was CLEAR to me she knew what the fuck it was so why haven’t we had this discussion before now and in a way that I can express the fact that you fucking beat me for something I can’t help/should have been in therapy for, without you shifting blame and instantly shutting me down? Fuck you.

Ground Zero. The day my already cracked heart shattered into a million pieces and I wasn’t even surprised; just incredibly hurt. I just kept thinking about how absolute bullshit it is for her to “forget” while I get to remember. I have remembered for 10 fucking years now. I fucking remember every single day. You don’t get to do that to me. You don’t get to alter my reality because YOU DID SOMETHING SO DARK YOU CANT EVEN STOMACH IT SO YOU JUST CAUSALLY FUCKING FORGOT. Man I swear, once the tears started flowing my chest got so tight and before Ground Zero I NEVER cried out loud. I wailed. And I screamed. Loud and hard. Literally felt like my brain was melting. I ran to my good aunt and uncle (dad’s side) and screamed some more then bawled my fucking eyes out. My mind got so hazy to the point that I couldn’t control it and it scared the absolute fucking shit out of me. My dad said it was a massive panic attack, but at the time the only thing I could think was getting to the ER. I experienced a similar one, a stronger one, while waiting on bloodwork and crisis and for the first time in my life I bared my soul because the other option was ramming my head into the wall and honestly man suicide is not something I ever seriously considered before Ground Zero and have since been taking extremely seriously because that is not me but here it is now, this constant threat that my mind is going so out of control trying to make sense of this craziness and the fact that my heart felt so damn empty, so void of anything that it felt like I didn’t want to do this anymore. Oh hell no. Every thought that entered my mind that night I immediately let it out and talked myself back to sanity because that shit fucking scared the SHIT out of me.

The answers I found? I love my mother. This is how she is. But I have to love you from a distance because you literally make my brain rot.

Today, 2 days later, I have started on anger. I got diagnosed with BPD that night and have been thoroughly researching and finding things that fall in line with things/behaviors I have, some of which I’ve had since I was a kid. I am currently waiting to speak with a therapist for a better, fine-tuned diagnosis and medication so this currently feels like a lame duck period between trauma and relief mixed with becoming consciously aware of my own bullshit and coming to terms with my own fears and how others percieve them because now manipulation has become a full blown trigger and I wont tolerate it even in myself. Today I got to work working through the irrational and bringing them back to reality. Yesterday was fucking horrible because now I have the meticulous duty of plucking these needles she’s stabbed through my heart from childhood, separating the shadows I witnessed as a child growing up around undiagnosed/unmedicated bipolar narcissism that lashes out when angry and hurts people because she has been hurt and wow I can’t even put that into words how its fucked with my mind making me wonder if I’ll end up like that, which is what’s been the cause of yesterday’s panic attacks because I am incredibly sensitive at the moment to words and thoughts- no matter how rational/irrational they may be yesterday my mind was not ready to absorb and got overstimulated the more I learned. Today was better because today I am able to say YOUR SHADOW DOES NOT OWN NOR CONTROL ME BECAUSE I AM NOT YOU.

Only 2 days in and I have started working on things I fear the most, the wrongs I do and the resolutions to them, and the questions I can’t wait to ask next week in my first appointment. Only 2 days in and I recognize that my fears are easily appeased within a comfort zone; but I also recognize who I am/ who I was before this trigger and for now that eases the initial panic of turning into a shadow of my mother. Where she hurts I want to love, where she denies I want to accept, and where she manipulates I want to shed light. I know this isn’t going to be easy, I’m facing something really hard and hard wired in my brain, resistance is expected; but I really want to celebrate a personal victory. Today I took my anger to the page, pen to paper, and got to work.

I AM NOT YOU.

#personal #ref1 #tw abuse

7 notes · View notes