#illness. how are we to get through self hatred and hopelessness and despair if we can’t even see the things we think are too bad to face are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years

Text

🔥Scalding🔥

A/N: Hello everyone! So, this is actually my first ever Levi x Reader fic. I usually write IzuOcha stuff for MHA on my other blog, xxpadfootxx, but I decided I’d give this a shot. Nobody asked for this, and I apologize in advance if it’s shitty. Thanks for reading anyway, and I hope you enjoy! Requests are open if you guys like this stuff and I have more works on the way so stay tuned!

Warning: this is both angsty and fluffy and very long. I didn’t mean for it to get this long, sorry 😬

~~~ Levi felt nothing but numb self hatred. Blood stained his clothes, some of it even smeared in his hair. Sweat was slicked over his body, making him shiver as it cooled on his skin. Mud and grime covered him from head to toe, but for the first time in his entire life, he had very little desire to actually clean himself.

The Captain ignored everyone he passed, words were beyond him anyway, caught in his throat as he struggled to breathe. He knew to other people he looked almost unaffected, his head held up high and his stride unfaltering as he made his way through the Survey Corps headquarters, but on the inside, he was a raging mess, his emotions threatening to boil over at any second.

Nobody noticed how his gaze seemed just slightly less focused than normal. Nobody noticed that the look on his face was not his usual scowl, rather, that the lines were deeper, angrier as he battled with his own heart. Nobody noticed how his shoulders were almost imperceptibly slouched, everyone too caught up in their own grief and affairs to worry about the person they all thought was made of stone, the person they all thought was emotionless, cold, and unfaltering in his strength. Nobody, but one.

(Y/N) (L/N) was walking beside her fellow Squad Leader, Hanji, pretending to listen to the bespeckled woman talk about their new plan of attack on the Female Titan, her entire attention focused solely on the raven-haired man walking towards her. Levi bypassed the two of them without any sign that he had even seen them, his eyes slightly clouded, his mind obviously preoccupied with more important thoughts than what was going on around him.

(Y/N) glanced around her, her (e/c) eyes scanning the faces of the soldiers walking around nearby, searching their expressions to see if any of them were paying attention to the emotional state of their Captain, to see if they could even tell that something was clearly wrong with him. A quick survey of the room told her that she was the only one who had noticed. It didn’t surprise her much.

It saddened her a bit, but she wasn’t surprised. Levi was excellent at hiding what he was thinking, shuttering the emotion in his expressions, and standing up tall despite the obvious weight on his shoulders, the emotional burden he carried. But (Y/N) had known him since her time in the Underground.

The pair had met when they were both very young, fending for themselves after Kenny had abandoned Levi, (Y/N) hiding him in her ramshackle hovel of a home when he was running from the merchants he had thieved from. They had quickly come to realize how effective they were as a team, surviving together until they met Farlan and eventually Isabel. They had been busted together, brought up to the surface together, fought in the expedition together that had resulted in the deaths of their two closest friends, the pair refusing to be separated by anything, no matter what.

Now they were both high ranking officers in the military, having gone through the worst of the worst together. She knew Levi was the best at suppressing his emotions, no matter how strong they were. But he could hide nothing from her.

(Y/N) didn’t say a word as she gently placed her hand on Hanji’s shoulder, her way of wordlessly excusing herself, before turning on her heel and following where she had seen Levi disappear around the corner.

____________________________

Levi’s mind was on autopilot as he stepped into his private bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn the water to scalding without really thinking. Slowly, he peeled off his uniform, wincing slightly as the dried blood pricked his skin as it was ripped off of him, and threw it in the corner, his mind so hazy he didn’t care about the mess.

When he was bare, he stepped under the spray, wincing as the water seared his back. He held in his scream of rage, his sob of despair, merely hanging his head and standing under the shower head, the water sluicing off his body and the steam fogging up the entire bathroom.

It was his fault. All. His. Fault. He was their Captain, had been, at least. They had depended on him and he had failed them, watched them as each of his squad was crushed underneath the Female Titan’s rage, their faces contorted in fear. The image of their lifeless eyes, their broken bodies, their flesh stained with blood as they laid in puddles of their own intestines, or hung from tree branches, half of their bodies hanging on an entirely different branch from the other half. Eld, Gunther, Oulo, Petra… they were all gone and he was to blame.

A small whine escaped his lips despite his efforts to suppress it, his body beginning to shake despite the scalding temperature of the water. All his fault. He was useless. Fucking useless.

Everyone he cared about he was destined to lose. He could see that now as memories of his friends and family flashed in his head. His sweet, abused mother, cooing to him gently, before the memory shifted to the moment of her death, when he was wearing one of her blouses and begging her to wake up, fat tears rolling down his small cheeks. His best friends, laughing and teasing him, loving him despite his surly attitude, before the memory shifted to Isabel’s decapitated head lying lifelessly on the ground as he stared at it, horrified.

And now his squad, the bright memories of them following him dutifully, training by his side, following his every order as they trusted him to make the right decisions. Their laughter filled his head, their bright smiles and loud cheering whenever they were together, paying no mind to his grumbling, knowing he wasn’t truly annoyed when they were having fun, just so long as they didn’t get too out of hand. The memories shifted again, their laughter rising from shrill squeals into panicked screams, the sound getting louder and louder in his head until his legs could no longer support him.

Levi slowly fell to his knees, his head hanging low as a few stray tears dripped down his cheeks, their pleas echoing in his ears and the sound of their bodies getting crushed thundering in his heart.

“LEVI!”

“Captain! Please!”

“Save us, Levi! Please, gods please no!!!”

“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!”

“This is all your fault! We trusted you!”

“Why did you have to lead us to our deaths, Levi? I wasn’t ready to leave yet…”

Levi choked on a sob as his body shook harder, his shoulders shaking. His hair fell down to cover his face but he didn’t move to brush it away, his hands curled into fists where they rested on his thighs. He was such a fucking disgrace, so fucking disgusting, why did he even try? It was clear he was destined to be alone forever, not only that but it was clear that everyone he was around was lost, so why even fucking bother?

A watery image suddenly fluttered across his mind, giving him pause. It was the image of a woman with a beaming smile, the corners of her lips curving upwards wickedly as she looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischievous intent. Her face was bright and full, her eyes sharp yet loving as she watched his back. His best friend. (Y/N).

She had been with him pretty much since the beginning. When he had met her, he had immediately been drawn to her, the small girl hiding him from the authorities without hesitation when he had passed by her filthy hovel, desperately searching for an escape route. After she had saved him, he had originally been wary of her, just as he had been with everyone in the Underground, automatically expecting her to want something from him in return for saving his ass. But to his surprise, she had merely wanted to help him, no malicious intent in her gaze.

He had also been surprised by her strength. She was his age, and at the time, she had also been alone, having lost both of her parents at a young age too, her mother abandoning her after her father died. After learning this, Levi had expected her to be sensitive and weak, maybe even wracked with illness like most of the children in the Underground, but she had quickly dispelled that notion, always on par with him, and able to go toe to toe with him in battle, keeping his mind sharp and his reflexes on point.

She was smart and surprisingly funny, the only person who could genuinely get a laugh out of him, a luxury he knew she treasured and never abused despite her teasing nature. She was a sly little fox that was for sure, but gods did he love her. She had never failed him, always knowing exactly how to treat him.

He hadn’t lost her. Not yet. He couldn’t lose her, could never lose her. He wanted to fight for her, to keep going for her, but the hatred he felt for himself, the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that flooded him, doused his thoughts of fighting back, making him feel nothing more than a throbbing exhaustion, his eyes fluttering closed as he surrendered to his negative thoughts, his body shaking even worse than before.

Then he felt it. The softest touch of light fingers on his chin. Opening his eyes slowly, his head was lifted, his gaze locking on the (e/c) eyes that were never too far from his thoughts and haunted his heated dreams.

_______________________

(Y/N) had followed Levi to his room but had given him enough distance so he wouldn’t know she was there. She knew under normal circumstances that he would’ve noticed her immediately, his sharp senses never missing anything, but with him in this particular emotional state, lost deep in the labyrinth of his despair and his grief, she knew she could remain undetected.

She desperately wanted to comfort her best friend, but knew that even like this, he would be irritated if he discovered she was trying to help, too worried about keeping up appearances to want to accept her help, even despite their past together. So (Y/N) hung back, waiting for the right moment to confront him.

She had waited until she knew he was in the shower before entering his bedroom from where she had been waiting in his office, sitting on the edge of his bed while she waited for him to get out.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. Then forty.

When an hour had passed, (Y/N) stood and knocked on his bathroom door, worry gnawing at her gut. When she received no response, (Y/N) took a deep breath and gently pushed open the door.

The entire bathroom was fogged up with steam, to the point where it made her eyes water, her hand coming up to wipe at her now damp brow.

“Levi?”

(Y/N) rounded the corner and gasped at the sight. She had never ever seen Levi like this. Even when they had comforted each other after Isabel’s and Farlan’s deaths, he had never looked like this. Like he had completely given up.

He was sitting on the floor of his shower, his head hanging low as he cried, his whole body shaking like he had a fever. His normally pale skin was an angry red, a testament to the temperature of the water. She could tell he didn’t even know she was there.

Swallowing hard, (Y/N) didn’t hesitate to approach him, keeping her eyes up determinedly as she made her way to him. She crouched, gently touching his chin with her fingers when he still didn’t respond to her kneeling in front of him.

Her eyes bored into his when he met her gaze, his normally bright silver eyes glazed over with sorrow and self-loathing. She honestly didn’t even know if he could really see her, too lost in his own world to really know who he was looking at.

(Y/N)’s gaze hardened as she looked into those empty eyes. This was not the Levi she knew. She knew in that moment, as she looked into the soul of her closest friend, the one who had been with her through thick and thin, and the one who would likely be with her until the end, (Y/N) knew that she would hate nothing more than the look on his face right now.

(Y/N) finally managed to tear her gaze away from his and reached over, hissing at the heat of the water as it burned her bare arm, the tank top she always wore beneath her Survey Corps jacket doing nothing to protect her skin as she turned the handle down, involuntarily sighing a bit as the water cooled.

Levi did not react to the temperature change, he just remained sitting, his eyes closed once more. (Y/N) ignored the worry that clawed at her stomach at his unresponsiveness, and moved to stand behind him, grabbing the shampoo bottle and kneeling down so she was at eye level with his back and shoulders. (Y/N) didn’t mind the feeling of her clothes getting immediately soaked as she set her entire focus on her hurting friend.

“I’m going to wash you, now,” (Y/N) said, and without waiting for a response, knowing she wouldn’t get one, (Y/N) got to work.

Squeezing the soap into her palms, (Y/N) got to work carefully scrubbing the filth from his hair, running her fingers through the raven black strands until the crusted over patches from the blood had been returned to their normal smooth softness. She worked the suds into his scalp, digging her fingers in until it was cleaned to her, and therefore his, satisfaction. Gently grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him under the spray and used her fingers once more to rinse the soap from his hair, making sure she washed it from under every strand so he wouldn’t be itchy later.

As soon as his hair had been soaped and washed, she moved onto his shoulders, grabbing the sponge on his shelf and applying more soap to his skin. Her touch was gentle but firm, almost reverent as she washed him, scrubbing the grime from his body with the utmost care. (Y/N) moved onto his shoulder blades and the rest of his upper back before switching to the front, forcing her eyes to stay modest as she focused on the hard planes of his chest, washing each individual groove with the sponge, the blood and the filth giving under the pressure of the soap and the sponge to slide down the drain.

When she got to just above his belly button, (her eyes latched onto his face like a lifeline), she grabbed his hand and placed the sponge in his palm, meeting his gaze with a smile at the light that she could see starting to return to his silver hues.

“I’ll leave the bottom half for you to enjoy,” (Y/N) said, her tone light but sensitive to his still fresh pain, before moving behind him again and raising her hands to condition his hair.

Levi said nothing as he washed the rest of his body, his mind short circuiting at the feeling of (Y/N)’s nimble fingers running through his hair. He felt like he was going crazy when he had the urge to moan and press his head against her hand like a cat, his eyes widening as he forced the feeling down and focused on washing himself.

When he was all clean, (Y/N) shut off the water and grabbed ahold of both of his hands, gently leading him out of the shower and into the bathroom which had finally been cleared of steam. Grabbing a towel, (Y/N) wrapped it around his waist and tied in the front before grabbing another towel and reaching up to dry his hair, scrubbing at the mussed locks until they were fluffy and dry.

Moving on, (Y/N) dried his upper body, taking special care to run the towel along the grooves of his muscles, soaking up every drop of moisture.

Since he was covered this time, (Y/N) leaned down and dried his legs herself, keeping her gaze locked on the tiles of the bathroom floor as she dragged the fluffy cloth over his skin. Moving around him, (Y/N) was careful to blot at the welts on his back from the water that had burned him, dabbing around the spots and murmuring soft apologies whenever he winced.

When he was finally dry, (Y/N) threw the towel she had been using into the corner with his discarded clothes and dragged him into his room, quickly moving to his dresser so she could pull out some clothes for him. She originally thought to grab a shirt and some pants, but one look at him showed her that he was barely able to stand on his own, let alone get fully dressed.

Handing him a pair of his boxers, (Y/N) turned to give him some privacy as she heard him drop his towel and shuffle around to put his underwear on. When he was decent, (Y/N) helped him into his bed, pulling back the sheets and slowly pushing him down onto the pillows, her fingers lightly pressing his chest.

“Rest,” was all (Y/N) said as she quickly turned and headed back into the bathroom, pausing only to grab a shirt of his, her own clean clothes still in her room several halls over.

She stripped and bathed quickly, faster than she ever had before, hopping out of the shower and throwing on Levi’s shirt before sliding her underwear over her thighs just underneath where the shirt covered her, the garment a little big on her.

Opening the bathroom door quietly, (Y/N) peeked her head inside before tiptoeing out of the bathroom towards the door leading to his office, hoping to let him get some sleep for once, now that he was clean. She made it to the door, her fingers resting on the handle when her name being called in the softest voice she had ever heard made her pause.

Turning around slowly, (Y/N) saw Levi watching her, his silver eyes wide as he stared at her. He looked so young at that moment, almost scared. Her heart clenched, he was so open right now, so vulnerable, even in all of her time with him, she had never seen him this bare before her, his emotions laid out for her to see in their entirety for the first time in his life.

(Y/N) didn’t hesitate to move to him, her eyes never breaking from his intense stare as she approached him. When she finally got close enough, his arm shot out, his hand grasping her wrist and squeezing once. A silent plea. A call for help, the kind he didn’t know how to voice out loud. The kind he never had voiced out loud before.

Suddenly, in that moment, (Y/N) realized how stupid it would’ve been for her to leave. She needed to be by his side, just as she always had. (Y/N) glanced at the spot on the bed beside him. They had shared a bed before, but that hadn’t been since their time in the Underground, when they were forced to share, both to keep warm when the lack of sun made the temperatures decline to near freezing and because they only had one filthy mattress for a while, when they lived in that pathetic shack together. Ever since they had come to the surface, they had been in their own quarters, as was expected of them.

Pausing for only a second longer, (Y/N) nodded. She saw Levi swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and chose to ignore it as she made her way to the other side of the bed, not wanting to think about him being as nervous about this as she was. She needed to comfort him right now, not let her stupid feelings get in the way. She needed to be focused, not flustered.

Levi shifted over slightly to give her more room as (Y/N) lifted up the covers on her end and slid into the bed beside her best friend, laying back into the pillows. She expected him to roll over onto his side and slowly fall asleep like she knew he usually did. Or she expected him to lay on his back with his arms behind his head, his eyes closing gently as she turned away from him. It was how they had slept in the Underground when sharing a mattress together.

What she did not expect was for Levi to immediately throw his arms around her, hugging her close and pulling her to him, burying his face in the curve of her neck while his arms squeezed her tightly.

(Y/N) gasped loudly at the sudden action, her face flushing despite her attempts to cool the flames in her cheeks. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, something she knew he felt as the corners of his mouth twitched upward, his face snuggling even closer to her. Her breathing was erratic as she felt his own warm breath fanning out over her neck as it slowed and evened out. She realized a few moments later that he had finally fallen asleep.

(Y/N) could still feel the shock coursing through her, but she managed to calm herself down enough to gently run her fingers through his hair, the strands now silky and unbelievably soft after his shower.

It was relaxing, (Y/N) realized, comforting her hurting friend, as she watched him in wonder while he slept against her. She had always been closer to him than almost anyone on the planet, but even then she had never been this close, physically and emotionally. He had never cuddled up to her before and vice versa.

It was just a line they had never crossed, not wanting to make the other feel uncomfortable or ruin the strong friendship they had with each other despite the growing feelings they had for one another, merely dancing around their relationship as they ignored the pulls of their hearts.

Now, (Y/N) wondered if this wasn’t opening some sort of door for them, as her eyelids grew heavy and she started to yawn. Eventually, (Y/N) completely relaxed against Levi, sighing in bliss as she cuddled up to him, feeling him just barely squeeze her tighter as she lost consciousness.

______________________________

Levi groaned softly as the light attacked his face, his silver eyes blinking open and squinting at the window where the shades had been left open, the sun streaming into his room in bright beams. Grumbling in annoyance, Levi went to turn so he could slide out of bed and shut those damn blinds when he suddenly realized… he couldn’t move. Glancing down, Levi’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he remembered the events of the night before as he stared down at his best friend.

(Y/N) was still fast asleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically as she breathed deeply. Levi’s mind replayed what had happened last night. He had felt so lost, so empty inside. He had never felt that way before, like he wanted to give up. The closest he had ever gotten to that point was when his mother had been ripped away from him at four years old, not knowing what to do at such a young age other than wait to die.

But the grief, the hopelessness, the depression that had piled up on him, it wasn’t just from the death of his squad, it was the result of years and years worth of loss. He had just lost all control, both of the situation and himself, and had fallen so far off the edge he hadn’t been able to pull himself back out again, not like he had done in the past.

And then there was (Y/N). The shining light to his world, the one who threw a rope around his waist and tugged, bringing him back from the sorrow and the darkness and the demons. She had lost so much too, her own friends being ripped away from her, her family reduced to none other than himself. The world had been just as cruel to her as it had been to him. He remembered now that Petra had been a good friend of (Y/N)’s, the two often bonding while they rode their horses on the trails around headquarters.

And she had still been the one to bring him back. To save him. He felt like he had just been pulled back from death, yanked back into the brightness of life by the one person who had never left him, the one who refused to.

His eyes roved over her sleeping form, really took in everything about her. He smiled, genuinely smiled with something wicked playing on his lips as he caught sight of her wearing nothing but his shirt and her flimsy underwear, but he forced himself to behave and move on from that fun little detail.

He took in the way her (h/l) (h/c) hair splayed out across the pillows, the way her soft skin seemed to almost glow in the early morning light. She looked so peaceful, her face curled into his chest, her hands balled into fists in between their bodies, her leg thrown over his waist like she owned it, her body naturally tilted so that she was almost sprawled across him.

Levi used the arm that was still loosely wrapped around her to softly run his fingers up and down her spine through his shirt, his other hand coming up to run through her locks. He grunted a little at how fucking soft her hair was and suddenly seemed to realize how good she smelled, how smooth her skin was, how fucking gorgeous she was, cuddled up to him as she slept, how shockingly beautiful her sharp (e/c) eyes were…

Levi jolted a little when he realized she was staring at him, her (e/c) eyes blinking owlishly a few times. Levi coughed awkwardly and removed his arm from around her as she moved to stretch.

“Good morning,” (Y/N) rasped as she stretched, her eyes closing at the satisfying pop of her shoulder blades.

“Morning,” Levi said gruffly, his husky voice sending shivers down (Y/N)’s spine.

“So… sleep well?” (Y/N) asked, obviously trying to diffuse the awkward atmosphere that had suddenly sprung up without their permission.

“Best I’ve had in years,” Levi answered honestly, smirking a little when (Y/N) whipped around to look at him.

“Really?” She asked in awe.

Levi nodded before reaching out and touching the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers.

“(Y/N), what you did for me, last night, um, thank you,” Levi said, his eyes drifting from hers in uncharacteristic embarrassment as he spoke. (Y/N) could’ve sworn some color even stained his cheeks.

He wished he could say more, damn him for being unable to express his feelings like a normal human being, but he figured he had gotten the point across when he looked into her face once more.

Smiling brighter than the sun, (Y/N) couldn’t help herself as she swooped down and kissed him on the lips, relishing in the warm, soft feel of them before pulling back. Her smile turned sultry then, as she caught sight of his shocked face and darkened eyes, his hair mussed from sleep and his body still only consisting of a pair of boxers under the sheets. She thought he looked absolutely delicious.

Levi’s eyes darkened further when he saw that sultry expression, the wicked light in her eyes as she stared at him. Suddenly, his heart was a roaring inferno in his chest, calling out for her as he let his gaze roam over her possessively, his own smile filled with a dark promise as he took in the sight of her wearing his shirt and almost nothing else, unashamedly this time.

“Anytime, Ackerman,” (Y/N) said, before the pair attacked each other, eager to get lost in each other, to forget the pain, and to start a new beginning, together.

~~~

A/N: I got the idea for this story from the book Crescent City by SJM. The story I wrote is original, but you will notice some similarities from a certain scene if you’ve read that book so I just wanted to mention it. This story is all my own but the idea was sparked from that novel.

(That book is fucking fantastic btw if you haven’t read it yet. Anything by SJM is amazing, but this one is one of my favorites, so quick plug for her books if you don’t already read her shit. 😂)

464 notes · View notes

lorei-writes · 3 years

Text

Abuse in Fiction

I think I spoke of a related issue once already, but well, I do not mind repeating myself. In a way, I even enjoy it, I suppose. It’s mildly personal this time too, hm.

So, as some of you may know, I am of a strong belief that fiction should not be hopeless and that it is easy to write a story full of despair - and harder to undo all the harm that’s been done. However, I am also of belief that... My views never matter more than that of another person, and that we are all entitled to our own stances, morals and opinions, for at least as long as we do not enforce those on others. (For the record here, I do not consider hatred an opinion or standard of any type; another distinction that needs to be made: facts are not opinions).

As such, the following will be my opinions, and nothing more. Whether you agree with them or disagree - this is yours, not mine. I do not aim to convince anybody to see the world the way I do.

Well, where do I even start? One step at a time, I suppose.

Bad people do good things. & Good people do bad things.

You need knowledge to realise what is abusive.

Themes of abuse are not inherently harmful.

Gatekeeping requires proof.

What can I do?

A little bit personal something.

Bad people do good things & Good people do bad things

As alluring as it may be, the world cannot be split in neat categories of pure goodness and pure evil. What makes a person good? What makes them bad? Is the good one that who does not harm others? It is generally the definition of goodness I go by, and yet - it is not absolute.

What I’m trying to say is that, to try and split people into good-bad categories based on a single action is... Not really productive. It may be an error. It may be a result of something you are not aware of. And, yes, it may turn out they are indeed not a “good person”, whichever definition you go by - but it also may not.

We are talking about fiction here, however. Not killing, not abusing somebody yourself, but an act of writing about it. If it is tagged appropriately - then who is being hurt? If it is tagged, the person who read it consented to it in the first place. They could have withdrawn. If it is not tagged... Then, it brings me to my second point.

You need knowledge to realise what is abusive.

I would love to see a world in which every single person is educated and capable of recognising different forms of abuse. However, we do not live in such a world. We live in one where access to sex education is still limited in plenty places, where access to mental health services may be restricted, where mental illness is sometimes still a cultural taboo, where humans are being trafficked, abused in all form, dehumanised, enslaved, all to the benefit of rich countries. We do not live in an ideal world, so to require people to act in ideal ways? I consider it ludicrous.

Plenty cultures around the world glamourise abuse - or so it is at least in Europe. What books are best-sellers? 50 Shades of Grey. 365 Days was somewhat big too. If a person cannot get education from a reliable source, if the culture perpetuates the belief that a form of abuse is not in fact abusive, or what is arguably worse, is well-deserved, then how will they know it is in fact hurtful?

You must realise that, even for victims of abuse, it may take decades to learn why they were hurting, to realise that something was in fact wrong. You must realise those people may include themes of abuse in their work thinking that this is how it just is.

Is it perpetuating the harmful norm? It is.

But are they doing it consciously? Or is it the by-product of their culture? And if so, is it their fault?

Is ostracising them and calling them morally wrong doing anything to counter the hurtful norm? Do we need to abandon a topic completely, as some approaches to it may be hurtful? Or do we need to deconstruct it? To realise what beliefs linger behind the words?

Themes of abuse are not inherently harmful.

Abuse victims do not always get their feelings validated. Not only that, they may lack a safe space to share their experiences in any form at all. Fiction provides such an outlet.

Are all depictions of abuse good? Well, of course, no. Romanticising abuse justifies it. It normalises it. We should strive not to ever include such a thing in a work. Many hurtful beliefs can be transferred through fiction - “abuse made them stronger”, “abuse made them kinder”, “once abused will turn into the abuser”, “if you were abused, you do not have a choice but to abuse”, “a parent and child always have some magical bond tying them together”. The list goes on and on. Some people use it as a shock factor, something that does not have any lasting and realistic influence over the characters - and that, in my opinion, is disrespectful.

However, if one were to ban abuse from fiction, they would have to cut out all the scenes calling out abuse for what it is. They would have to cut out hopeful stories, to take away from what may lead somebody to realise they are not treated appropriately. People learn through stories too - and some use fiction to process the issues they faced.

Gatekeeping requires proof.

As you might have noticed, I spoke about how themes of abuse resonate with abuse survivors themselves. Of course, some will not need it. Some will avoid the topic completely.

But, the question is: so perhaps, only abuse survivors should be entitled to writing about abuse?

Well... No. First, it requires proof. Then, it would require some sort of grading system - and that by itself is so dehumanising and humiliating I do not think I have to explain it. Also, the fact that somebody survived abuse does not mean they worked through all the toxicity it brought upon them and that they are capable of not repeating the hurtful messages.

Some people survived abuse and they are not aware of it. Does it make them a bad, hideous person if they include themes of what they considered normal in their work? Or perhaps they do not view it as ordinary, but cannot see a reflection of that in their own situation? Are they morally detestable? Or are they a victim?

What can I do?

Does it mean you should approve all depictions of abuse in fiction? No. Absolutely not, never. It means you should be critical about it, and that stigmatising people does not solve the issue.

Be critical of what you read.

Educate yourself on what is and what is not abusive.

If your friend (or a person you feel comfortable pointing it out to) made something toxic seem romantic/normal - tell them. (It can be a rather emotional discussion, so really, make sure you can handle it).

Do your best not to romanticise abuse in your own work.

If you do choose to write about abuse, make sure to label it clearly.

If it is a NSFW type of content, and the characters are acting out a scenario - show that it is a scenario played out between two consenting adults, and that it can and it will end the moment one of them opts out. If it is not consensual and was not meant to be consensual, show it for what it is - abuse.

Educate yourself, and if possible others, on what is and is not appropriate.

And, if you interacted with a piece of media that bothered you personally:

Block the author of it. Do not interact with the rest of their work.

If it is not labelled appropriately, do tell your friends of it. Warn them.

If you enjoy other works by the author and still want to follow them - ask them to label abuse. They may do it, they may not do it. Decide whether you still want to follow them afterwards.

A little bit personal something.

Content Warnings: discussion of abuse, domestic abuse, suicide mentions, self-harm, rape

Well, I never hid the fact that I lived through domestic abuse. There are authors in our fandom whose works I avoid specifically because of their poor handling of themes of abuse at the hands of a parent.

It took me 15 years to find words to describe my pain. I did not know I was abused for the majority of the time it happened. It was my reality - it was just how the world functioned. Did it spill into my early writing? Yes. But not in the ways you would have expected. My characters were not abusive themselves. They idealised suicide. They would hurt themselves, although not with blades or anything of the like - and at the time, I did not know it was self-harm either. In the plot, they were being abused, and they would come out of it victorious.

I am comfortable saying this. But somebody may not be. They may not know yet.

This post was sparked by a person calling people who write rape “sick in the head” (ugh, stigmatisation of mentally ill people aside, at least this time, okay?). I do not condone romanticising rape. It is disgusting, as any form of abuse. I blocked authors who did not label it and thus exposed me to sensitive content without my consent. I did not go through it and I do not wish for anybody to go through it. However, the post lacked this sort of nuance. It was about the entirety of it, however it was handled.

I do not know why somebody writes it. I do not think I have the right to demand an answer to that. I do not have the right to decide who was hurt “bad enough” (as if something like so existed in the first place) to touch the subject.

I also do not want to stigmatise people who did not get proper education on the matter. How many of them were raped and did not know that lack of consent equals rape? How many of them realised or will realise it after years? How many were failed by their education system, were victims to the times they were born in, to the culture?

Because, remember, to plenty people rape is something that happens in the black alley, at hands of a stranger. Not something done by their partner, when they hope to just get done with the thing and move on - after all, it happened to them. And said partner is not a bad person, so how could he do something bad?

I cannot say whether a person is processing something. I cannot say whether a person consumed so much of modern popular media and lacks knowledge and experience necessary to understand that scenes depicted in it are in fact ABUSE. Sometimes I am near stating that media almost conditions us to accept some forms of abuse as normal.

What I can say is that, well, if you make writing about one type of abuse a taboo, another one may follow.

I do not think this approach answers the problem of why do multiple people, across different fandoms and countries, perceive something abusive as “not that bad”, even bordering appropriate. I do not think that stigmatising the people who write such things is going to change much. It will certainly not target the ones who need education.

And well, it removes the opportunities to critically approach the matter. I know it is hard. But people need to understand why certain narrative choices are harmful and hurtful, not just be presented with “writing about abuse is evil”. We still need spaces to safely discuss abuse.

People need to understand why something is bad, not just label it as bad and be done with it.

#lorei spoke

23 notes · View notes

fairycosmos · 4 years

Note

chloe what do you do when you feel really suicidal? but like not like before- but NOW that you are grieving such a painful loss? dont need to answer but i read your a. to the anon that felt trapped and like they couldnt leave now bc their sibling died too and like you and that anon i feel the same. im so so suicidal chloe. i cry every day and night and i feel despertate but my parents just lost their child so. how do you cope... as much as its possible. what do we do? fuck.

dude i am so sorry you're in the same position as me and you are going to hate me for saying it but there is no satisfactory answer 😔 it's a cruel joke. we're in the worst pain we've ever been in, and our instinct is to want to make that stop. but we can't because now we're obligated to stay alive, where all the hurt is, because we're one of the only ones left. and we dont want to cause more of this feeling by ending it all. it's like a contract you didn't agree to and are now trapped in for the foreseeable. grief is the absolute heaviest thing a person can carry, it's a fucking nightmare. it doesn't make any sense, it doesn't have a cure and it's disorienting as fuck. it's ok to be exhausted by it. reality has been irreparably worsened and it's an absolute tragedy, it's completely unfair. personally i'm more suicidal than i've ever been, but like you, i know i'm not going to do anything. and in moments of great pain, where i want to act on those thoughts, i find myself coming back to that fact. i watch the idea of suicide run its course through my head and then i acknowledge the reality of things, that i can't leave. that it doesn't matter how sad i am and how tired i am, because i'm still here, and processing these emotions is a part of that. the urge to kill myself is there, but the actual act of suicide has never been less of an option than it is right now. so i can feel whatever i need to feel, but there's no point leaning into it or daydreaming about it. because it's not going to happen. sometimes i'm screaming and crying to myself in absolute agony while this is all going on, and sometimes i'm just sitting staring at my phone, numb. the desperation is very real, and i understand that. but it is not as urgent as it feels in the moment. no matter how many times i think i'm at my limit, i know that there's going to be tomorrow. and at the moment that sounds like a really bad thing. but i know that by waking up my parents aren't getting a call saying i'm dead, which for now is kind of the whole point. i am living to minimize their trauma, i am living for them, and an optimist would have hope that that could keep me alive long enough until i get to the point where i can eventually live for myself again. i could definitely see that for your future, even if you can't. the thing is you don't have to know what to do and you dont have to look for ways to fill the void that has been left behind by your sibling. you just have to learn to exist alongside it, and i do mean just exist. as awful as it is. waking up, putting one foot in front of the other, crying and crying and crying. that is good enough. i know it doesn't feel like much of a life, but. it's the short term answer, or so it seems to me. another thing i remind myself of is how it all comes in waves. waves are the nature of both grief, and strong suicidal urges. maybe they're always running in the background, but the moments of pure despair where you feel like you're bursting at the seams, they're so strong and harsh that they flare out faster than you realize. and they feel unbearable, and i know those moments are very frequent when you're in our position, but it's good to remember that the intensity of their nature makes them temporary. especially if the grief is fresh, every little thing triggers an avalanche of hopelessness. but some part of me believes these experiences will either a. become less persistent with time or b. become a part of us we learn how to navigate. at the moment, the simple act of being completely broken by these episodes means you're surviving them. i think it's not a matter of knowing how to cope, but knowing that if you're here to ask these questions - what do i do, how do i go on, etc - then that is proof you have been coping. and it probably doesn't feel like you have been. i think there's a common misconception that coping is thriving, letting go, having positive memories. and sure that's a part of it. but there is a lot of darkness and absolute horror to work through before that. additionally, there is no rule book on how exactly to work through it. theres just time, experience, learning what works for you and hanging on. i'm trying to hold my own hand through it, i'm trying to look at the present moment i'm in and just think about what i need at that very second. not what i'm going to do tomorrow, not what i should've done yesterday, but what i have to do right now to make it through. a lot of the time the answer is nothing, and i just sit and stare or cry, because like i said, ultimately nothing can fix it. theres no epiphany that can change what happened.

as far as practical things you can to do combat suicidal thoughts goes, i have a few suggestions that i really hope you consider as viable choices: talk to your doctor/therapist - idk where you live or what your financial situation is like, but if it's at all an option i would really urge you to seek professional help. at least let your GP know what you're dealing with so maybe they can refer you to a therapist, or give you some mental health resources. grief counselling is also a step in the right direction. having someone to talk to and implementing positive coping mechanisms into your day to day life, even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, can work wonders. understanding your own suicidal thoughts, why you react the way you do and what you can do about it, can really come in handy when you're breaking down. it's ok to reach out. it's ok to visit different counsellors until you find one that fits you. it's ok to treat your emotional turmoil as seriously as you'd treat any physical disease. there is always support and treatment options available in some form, and it is always worth looking into.

call a (grief or suicide) hotline - i've had the hotline number open in my browser for days. if you are in a moment of crisis, it can absolutely help to have someone talk you through your emotions, listen to your pain, and then give you some gentle recommendations as to what you should do next or where to go from here. you don't have to tell them your name, you don't have to say anything you don't want to say. you're in control of the call and they care about keeping you going. you're not alone. theres also online grief support groups - i'm in a sibling loss group on fb. it's absolutely crazy how many people are in this position.

talk to your parents/family/friends - i know saying 'this is a tough one' is a giant understatement. idk if it's the same for you, but i've been isolating to cope and i don't want to tell anyone what i'm thinking because they're already having such a hard time grieving my sister. but if there's anyone you trust, i just want you to know it's alright to lean on them. it's up to you how much you open up, but the urge to keep to yourself leads nowhere. those around you can relate (to an extent) with your grief, and sharing it, talking about memories and crying together - it's fucking awful, god it's the worst thing ever, but it's necessary. and i don't want to say it helps, but a shared burden is always better than trying to shoulder it alone. you deserve to be listened to and supported. and if you think you're being an inconvenience to your loved ones, that's your inner self hatred talking. they would likely rather be there for you when you need it, than have you harm yourself because you kept it all pent up. it's a lot easier said than done, but it's important to keep in mind that it's an option.

try to create a safe space - try to remove things from your living space you could use to harm yourself with, and make the environment as comforting as possible. refer back to safe coping mechanisms/ distractions that have worked in the past - this can be as simple as going for a walk, watching stupid shit on your phone, meditation, having a crying session, writing to your sibling or just about how you feel in general. these are not suggestions that will solve anything or cure mental illness by any stretch of the imagination. they just get you out of your head. that can really make a difference.

create a crisis plan and learn what triggers you - this is a bit of a process but that's alright. being able to identify what sets you off, and being able to recognize your own toxic thinking patterns/behaviours, is the first step towards combatting them. another idea is, if you do end up talking to a loved one or a mental health professional, come up with a plan with them regarding what they should do when you're suicidal and your judgement is impaired. you can even start by just making one for yourself, like writing down a few suggestions as to what you should do when you're in a crisis, what your other options besides suicide are.

i think that's all i've got right now. i'm sorry this got so long, especially when i know nothing truly helps. i just know what it's like having all this useless life in front of you that you're going to have to fight through without the one person who always should've been there. i keep thinking about what she'd say to me if she could see me, and i know she'd be livid if i threw my life away, but. that doesn't change the fact that she didn't get to live hers, and that i miss her so so much it aches. i keep coming back to the idea that our relationship will continue to grow beyond death. i can still talk to her, reminisce with her, understand her, love her. so much of this reality was shaped by her. it's not the same as when she was here, but it's not total absence either. anyway, i'm so so sorry for your loss and i hope you can just focus on taking care of yourself, love. because your life still has so much worth and you deserve to see your own future even if you cant stand the thought. moments of happiness and peace are still 100% possible. it's just never going to feel like it did before. and it's ok if you spend the rest of your life struggling to come to terms with that fact, because at least you got to live the rest of your life. i'm sending so much love to you and i'll be here if you need a friend. one day at a time.

*no pressure to read all this you can just refer back to it whenever you feel the need

#anon #tw suicide #long post #sorry i dont shut up💖 this 1 hurt

34 notes · View notes

animegenork · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket Season 2 Episodes 21-25

So obviously life happened and I never finished out season 2 with my not-so-reflective analyses of the Fruits Basket episodes. Well, season 3 has officially started (and this is the one time in my life I waited for the sub before watching it) and it’s about damn time I did this.

Hold on to your pants--

Episode 21

I would like to make it very clear that Baby Yuki is Baby and most be protected at all costs. With that in mind, let’s begin.

The episode starts with Yuki meeting Akito for the first time, back before he became a mess and way before he ever met Tohru. There is already an internal conflict here with what he wants versus what the zodiac spirit wants, and that is to see Akito. Due to the “God” role Akito plays, Yuki wants to see Akito... but Yuki himself knows deep down that he does not.

We see Yuki spending more and more time with Akito, which makes sense, since we’ve known for a while that they were “friends” of the childhood sort. Perhaps new information is Shigure comforting Akito whenever he was upset, but that’s not important to the storyline at hand. Everything was all fine and dandy until, Yuki notes, Akito became twisted.

This is where it starts to get bad for Yuki.

Sometime during the latest tantrum, Akito begins turning his inward self-hatred to Yuki, telling him that the Rat is hated and no one wants him. Of course, we’ve seen similar poison towards Kyo, and frankly, I’ve always loved this juxtaposition toward them. Kyo and Yuki’s zodiac spirits are hated in similar ways, and while they hate each other superficially because of this, they also hate themselves more than anyone else. Both of them have remained on the “fringes” of things for most of their entire lives, which is probably why we get to see more of them than really any other zodiac member.

Naturally, this causes young Yuki to seek Kyo out when he hears about someone else who’s on the outside looking in. They meet, and Yuki’s all gung ho to try to make a friend. Unfortunately, Kyo has seen his own shit and is convinced Yuki is to blame for his suffering. So he tells Yuki he should just disappear from this world.

[A moment to cry over Baby Yuki’s expression. *sob*]

As most children do when faced with something awful like that, Yuki goes to his mother for comfort. Instead, she slaps him. (I just really hate her.) This leads into a scene of Akito spouting his usual poison at Yuki, brainwashing him into thinking everything is hopeless and bleak and that he’d be better off not going outside (to paraphrase). It doesn’t help that when he reaches out to his brother, or to anyone else really, he’s rejected. So, really, it’s no wonder he became such a mess, when the whole world has been working against him from the beginning.

Following this, we get to see Yuki going to school and attempting normalcy, even making some friends. Of course, we all know how that turns out, because Yuki has told us before: his friends’ memories were erased when his curse was revealed. Props to Hatori, I guess, for not succumbing to Baby Yuki’s cuteness when he begged the older boy not to do it.

Yuki reveals, in another interaction with Kyo in which our resident cat boy refuses to take back his hat because Yuki touched it (while I can’t blame him, I’ll always be a little mad at Kyo), that he really just wanted a home. A place where he was happy. Even Kyo had friends and a foster father, despite any verbal abuse launched his way.

When he falls ill, Akito tells Yuki more about Kyo, heartbroken over the loss of his mother and swearing that he’ll kill the Rat and make amends. If possible, Yuki falls into a greater despair and decides to run away, donning the hat that once belonged to Kyo. In a way, this is where we see Yuki’s selfless side, which has always been there--he ran away in order to alleviate some of Kyo’s sadness, which he believes he caused.

GIVE. THIS BOY. A HUG.

So he runs and runs until he finds a woman talking to the police. Her daughter is lost. Now, obviously this is Kyoko--who else could it be--but Yuki doesn’t know that. However, he had seen a little girl crying somewhere and went to find her again. The girl, our lovely Tohru, follows him when he tries to go find Kyoko again to tell her, so he begins to lead her home. When they get there, before they can meet or hug or anything that would put her in danger, he gives her the hat and runs away.

Thus endeth the story of Tohru’s “prince.”

In some ways, this one event helped alleviate some of Yuki’s pain. He was useless and needed. He’d helped someone feel better. That can be the best feeling in the world for someone like Yuki.

Now, the funniest part about all this is Yuki was caught up in a memory. He’s not telling Kakeru any of this. Kakeru himself is a little weird, so he’s not terribly surprised. Yuki finally explains that he met Tohru once and didn’t realize that he had until sometime after they met again. Through her influence, Yuki decided to perservere, as he says, and keep trying to live for himself. Unfortunately, Akito’s influence is strong as well. He became twisted once more.

Poor Yuki. All this time, he wanted that stupid Cat to be his friend. That is one of the most interesting revelations, I think, that we ever see in Fruits Basket. I don’t think we ever find out if Kyo feels similarly, but the fact that Yuki, the one always insulting Kyo, just wanted to be friends is him, is somehow mind-blowing.

Then in comes Tohru again. She was there for him, time and time again. “She accepted me time and time again.” And really, that was all he ever wanted. To be accepted. To have someone care and give a shit. “Like how the sky feels so close, yet so far.”

“Like a mother.”

So, yes, folks, that’s the truth of it: Yuki sees Tohru as the mother he never had. I feel like for some this isn’t the type of truth you ever wanted to see, but here’s the important part to remember: for Yuki, romance wasn’t entirely important. He needed a parent. Someone to care for him. And Tohru gave him that time and time again. Perhaps, at one point, his feelings skewed toward the romantic, but over time, he realized that Tohru wasn’t that for him. She was something he needed much more.

Kyo has his father. Yuki has his Tohru.

And that’s all I’m going to say on that. Because the rest is a matter of what you think.

Episode 22

Y’all forgive me it’s so hard to find gifs months after the episodes air a;lsjdkf;ajsdfas this gif is NOT mine

Hi, I love Kyo.

Anyway.

We pick up right where we left off with the series-changing revelation that Yuki considers Tohru to be his mother. Kakeru is the voice of “lol what do you mean she’s our age”. Yuki explains that he’d always yearned for a parent’s love (haha it’s like I knew that) and valued Tohru’s care so much that it just seemed natural to consider her that way. His inner monologue realizes that’s what Rin was looking for, too.

And like I said before, it takes him a while to realize this is the particular feeling he had prescribed to Tohru. It started when she went after Kyo, the night we see his true form. Of course, as with all the zodiac members, he probably hadn’t been able to put voice to the feeling just yet. It happens. But he even admits that he tried to be romantic with her, but eventually, it just felt too wrong to do. I get it, since I have a friend I consider my father, and when people told us we looked like a couple, we were grossed out beyond belief. So yeah. Makes sense.

Kakeru goes, “Well people look for romance with people like their mom all the time.” First of all, Kakeru, Tohru is nothing like Yuki’s mother. Okay. Second of all, Yuki clarifies that he doesn’t see her as a woman. But Kyo does. The Cat always knew how he felt about her. And you can see the same feeling radiating from Tohru.

*sobs* Okay. Sorry.

Yuki resolves to live on, spurred on by Tohru’s encouragement and love. Kakeru responds by throwing a soccer ball at his face.

I’ve mentioned before I love their relationship, right?

Shenanigans ensue, and Yuki says he might be able to tell Tohru precisely what he told Kakeru, but not right now.

BACK TO THE PLAY! Tohru is attempting to memorize her lines, and Shigure finds out Kyo is the Prince. This angers Kyo, naturally, because no way in hell does he want that Dog to embarrass him. He confiscates Tohru’s script (I cackled at this part) and tells her not to tell Shisho (but she obviously did already). Basically, we get some unintentional flirting between these two until Yuki cuts in using the classic Fruits Basket slapstick.

Yuki tells Kyo that Tohru has the hat in a moment of just sheer understanding passing between them, and Kyo goes to his room to sulk. Cuz Kyo.

A lot of what happens next is pretty self-explanatory: Ayame is Ayame, Yuki is the resigned brother, Tohru can’t play an evil stepsister to save her life, yada yada. The class eventually decides to rewrite the play because obviously a non-evil stepsister ain’t gonna work. Kyo is nowhere to be found. Tohru offers to find him, but Yuki takes over.

Ah, yes. The classic.

Here we see a classic rival clash, but it’s not physical. It’s verbal. Yuki’s very good at putting on a certain face in front of Kyo, but it’s always when Kyo needs it most. Kyo yells that Yuki has his parents. He’s loved and praised. What it all boils down to is that Kyo doesn’t think he’s worthy of being a prince. That’s always been Yuki’s crown to wear. It’s a case of the simplest thing triggering a much deeper emotion. Kyo claims Yuki doesn’t understand, but we all know that’s not the case at all. Yuki understands all too well. So Yuki asks if he really wants to achieve this impossible thing (defeating the Rat), if he really wants to not have anyone to hate.

Kyo punches a window.

We have a brief scene of Machi coming by and saying something about Yuki not being a prince. While the other classmate with her is appalled, Yuki is just stunned. Because that’s probably exactly what he’s wanted to hear all these years. (Go Machi!)

Returning to the classroom, Kyo finds the ever-cheerful Tohru with the revised Cinderella. As she babbles about how he’ll probably be able to do the play better this time around, he reflects on Yuki finding him sulking. Tohru notices his injured hand, and he just leans on her. He’s very good at this, I’ve noticed. The leaning. Makes my heart pound every time. And clearly, it worked on Tohru, too.

Kyo tells her she better not laugh at his performance, and they go home.

And scene.

Episode 23

To be frank, this episode doesn’t need much analysis. It’s mostly comedy and shenanigans and everything one could love about Fruits Basket.

Also, woof. Kyo with long hair.

We’ve got a narrator telling the classic Cinderella while the play goes in an entirely different direction. Cinderella Hanajima loves her Stepsister Tohru deeply but fears the prince taking her away. (Oh wait this is an allegory or something isn’t it.)

Flash forward to the ball, Prince Kyo wants nothing to do with all of this, and Buddy Uotani is telling him to get the hell up. Kyo doesn’t budge, refusing to dance with anyone, until, of course, Tohru approaches. He wigs out, because that’s what Kyo does, and tries to call her back. It’s almost like he forgets this is a play or something as he deflates from rejecting Tohru.

Cinderella arrives, she and Kyo clash, she leaves, wishing she’d eaten more meat. Naturally, a glass slipper is left behind. Kyo says he doesn’t really want to go find the girl, and Uotani begins the second most important scene of the episode.

With passionate urging, Uotani tells Kyo not to waste this chance to see her, saying that some people don’t get to see the people they want to. Then she screams, “COME SEE ME, DAMMIT” and we all know that’s aimed at Kureno.

We got to the classic glass slipper scene, and Hanajima enters and pulls quite the badass move. She asks Kyo if he plans on deceiving himself forever and keeping himself locked away. Most of the audience doesn’t really know that she’s referring to his feelings for Tohru and, to us the viewer, the way he’s going to willingly give up his freedom after high school ends.

Kyo: “So what if I do? Does that hurt anyone else?”

Tohru knows precisely what conversation is happening, and she starts to say that she doesn’t want to lose him. But, being Tohru, she’s not quite able to put it into words. But Kyo picks up on this, and he’s taken off guard. He’s an idiot, not picking up on her feelings for him in their entirety despite all the hints thrown his way. Even Momiji and Kisa know what’s going on here.

Awkwardness ensues, Yuki swoops in and tells Kyo to make his wish come true on his own in a classic “Broheim you better FUGGIN do it YOU HEAR ME” way.

The play ends, we see Shisho, Kyo tells him not to get married (because Hanajima is swooping in), and we find out Haru told him about the play. Obligatory reference to shirtless Kyo. Shisho picks up on Kyo’s conflicted feelings about Tohru while Kyo tells himself Tohru probably wasn’t trying to say what he thought she was.

Shenanigans ensue again, this time with Haru and Hiro, which is pretty funny, and then we check in on Yuki and Kakeru, who see Machi getting bullied. Petty girls being petty about a girl who’s not petty. How petty. Machi makes it clear that she thinks Yuki’s an airhead (which hits him like a brick LOLLLL) and then she says he seems lonely. That gives him pause, because she picked up on the one thing no one else at the school (besides other Sohmas and Tohru) have picked up on. She’s amazing like that.

BACK TO KYO I LOVE HIM. He meets up with Tohru and they start walking together. At the exact same time, they tell themselves that it couldn’t be, the other doesn’t have feelings for them. “I won’t let myself think it.”

And they break their own hearts in the process.

Pardon me, I have to sob again.

Episode 24

Once again, the gif is not mine. Apologies, y’all, I’m bad at this.

MACHI TIME!

The student council is going out to party--er, not really party, but just have lunch, I guess. Machi doesn’t really want to come, and Yuki tries to get her opinion on things so they can make everything more amenable. She tells him he doesn’t need to make such a fuss, that her opinions aren’t his concern. He says she’s right, and that he just wants to see the world through her eyes.

Does he REALIZE when he does that??? Probably not.

Anyway, everyone goes home, Yuki and Kakeru are THEM at its finest, and Machi goes home. Her mother calls, and we see a little bit of her past, where her mother pressured her to be better than Kakeru at everything. This suppressed her personality to a point of what her mother calls dullness. And Machi agrees. She knows she’s dull, that she struggled to make people happy, only to be abandoned and left an empty shell.

She then reflects on how Yuki’s changed. Even when he smiled before, it seemed lonely, not genuine. But now he’s changing to smile for real. While he’s changed, she’s remained stagnant.

Machi ends up going to the student council gathering, reflecting on how she’s not sure if she means something to the world. She’s stopped in her tracks by Yuki calling out to her, saying he’s glad she came. And she drops everything.

What happens next is typical rom com. Yuki notices she kept the maple leaf and says he’s happy, Machi yells that there wasn’t any special reason behind her keeping it. Understandably, Yuki is confused. Kakeru makes her embarrassment worse by popping in, but it’s a cute moment, because Yuki finally gets the answer to the question, “What’s your favorite color?” Because of course he remembered.

We cut over to Tohru, who’s staying with Shisho for New Year’s so she’s not lonely. Good call on the part of the Sohmas. Yuki and Shigure really just didn’t want to leave Kyo alone with Tohru, which is funny in itself since Kyo is a harmless kitty, but alas.

But they’re not alone with Shisho; Rin’s there! And Tohru goes in for a hug only to splat against the wall. Poor thing. We find out Rin and Kyo don’t exactly like each other, but they don’t dislike each other either. Very confusing, but I don’t question it.

We cut over to the banquet and a riveting shot of Hatori (fanservice for Hatori’s fanclub hehehehe) and we get some Ayame and Shigure shenanigans. I love them dearly, ridiculous as they are. We see Akito try to do the thing with Yuki again, saying he forgives him for his transgressions, and Yuki just says that he forgives Akito as well. He’s tired of blaming others, sick of it. He needs to move so he can change.

Akito sees something in his eyes, and she has a flashback to something involving Kureno. So he attacks, demanding Yuki apologize. The rest of the zodiac is stunned and confused. Ayame mobilizes to get Yuki some medical attention, and Hatori helps him out. Yuki takes a moment to apologize for blaming Hatori all those years for what happened when he was a kid. We see that Hatori felt indebted to Yuki for that as well and had resolved to keep an eye on him. They have a brotherly moment.

We see Tohru resolve to wish for the curse to be broken this year, and Momiji gives Kureno the DVD of the play where Uotani yells for him to see her. Haru goes to see Rin, who’s fallen asleep. Overall, Tohru says, she wishes for change.

Dun dun dun.

Episode 25

The plot thickens.

So we start off with Kureno and Akito, where Akito feels kinda sick after the episode with Yuki (episode as in incident, not---anyway). Kureno promises to stay by his side, and we immediately cut to Uo still missing him, but not saying so in so many words.

Tohru reflects on what happened during New Year’s, including Yuki coming back with a bandage on his forehead. He explains that he stood up to Akito, and he asks her if she thinks he did a good job. Now he’s just milking the mom thing, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she says yes.

Back to the present, we see that Shigure and Akito are fighting. He says something snarky about how Akito’s the one who’s always with Kureno, and Hatori treats this like it’s a childish argument. It is. Because Shigure’s a bit of a child. But it’s a bit deeper than that. They discuss how Kureno feels different than the rest of the zodiac, but they don’t say exactly what it is. That’s for later.

Kureno watches the DVD of the play, and he struggles with his feelings for Uo and his loyalty to Akito. He calls Shigure’s house and gets Shigure, and then we see Tohru come home and go right back out for an errand. She ends up at a park and sees some sparrows (AH YES, THE SYMBOLISM), and Kureno walks over to her, causing the sparrows to fly away.

What’s important here is to remember that members of the zodiac attract the animal they have the spirit of. We see it most often with Kyo and the cats. So why is Kureno chasing away the sparrows, the bird he turned into? Even Tohru is confused, until he hugs her and nothing happens.

That is to say, his curse is broken.

Kureno explains that he’s not sure how it happened--which disappoints Tohru, considering her quest to break the curse--only that it did. Now he’s resolved to stay by Akito’s side, meaning he can’t see Uotani anymore. He tries, unsuccessfully, to make himself feel better by saying that he doesn’t need to see her--their meetings were flukes. Then Tohru puts her hand on his face, and he admits that he fell in love with Uo.

And thus, we reach the crux of Kureno’s conflict: he’s free to do whatever he wants now, but because of that, he needs to stay by Akito’s side. And really, it’s because he can’t stand to see that child cry again over an ancient bond. He needs to be there for Akito, so that he can always be there and never abandon “that sorrowful girl.”

Tohru is shocked, and yet something seems to fall into place when she realizes Akito is a girl.

And that’s where the season ends.

~ ~ ~

That was a long boy, so sorry about that, folks! Now I’m off to finally watch the first episode of the new season! See y’all next time!

#fruits basket #furuba #fruits basket season 2 #excellent i actually did this at some point #now to actually watch episode 1 of season 3 #y'all i'm so sorry i bet no one actually cares about these a;lsdjkf;alsdjkfads

6 notes · View notes

hamilkilo · 7 years

Text

Love You Through It

Prompt: Reader has a panic attack, and Alex is there to help them.

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton X Reader!!!! Get jazzed!!!

TW: panic attacks, talk of wanting to die, suicidal thoughts, self depreciating thoughts, crying, alluded abandonment issues, self hatred

A/N: This is a situation very near and dear to me. It's dark and it's difficult and it's vulnerable. I've been in this situation before, and it sucks because I didn't have an Alex. I had parents on the other side of the door and a father that forced the locks. They were not understanding like Alex was. Please, if you ever feel alone, know that there are always people here to talk to. I'm always here. Never be afraid to message me. You deserve help, love and kindness. Remember, the depression lies. I love you! Word Count: 1859

You hadn't been good for a long time. For months now, you've been in a bad place. You didn't know how to get out of it, but you knew you couldn't stay. If you did, you'd never make it. You were at a job you absolutely hated, and it stressed you out beyond reason. Your depression had flared up, but your anxiety was in the pilot seat. You were always stressed. You'd catch a scent of something that vaguely reminded you of your job and get physically sick to your stomach. Sometimes, your anxiety would get really bad.

Your boyfriend, Alex, tried to help. He was kind and understanding, and he kept encouraging you to quit, but you were too afraid. You were terrified of your boss. You couldn't bring yourself to put in your two weeks. You were crippled by your fear. Alex was always there to talk you down from it, though. He would hold you and use his words to soothe you, but it didn't chase away the vice-like fear that constantly gripped at you. Every second you worked there was a struggle for air. You could hardly breathe. Alex's words couldn't chase that away, no matter how much both of you wished it could.

The anxiety took a toll on you, and it wore you down so far that your depression clawed away at you. Alex could tell, and he was always quick to compliment you and confess his affections to you, but it didn't fix you. He wasn't naive enough to believe that it would.

This night, however, it was bad. Really bad. You were lying on the couch, gasping for air. You knew this feeling, and you had soldiered through many of these panic attacks before, with and without Alex. You usually tried to hide them from him. You never wanted him to worry. You felt like a burden to him, and you hated that. Luckily, he wasn't home. As the attack worked its claws into you and pulled you further out to sea, you dug your nails into the couch as you stared at the ceiling. You were sobbing as you struggled to catch your breath. Tears blurred your vision of the dark room.

"Y/N?" A voice in the distance called out. Huh. At some point, Alex had gotten home. You tried to quiet yourself, but the attack was already in full swing. "Y/N? Are you okay?" You heard Alex fumbling around, and you couldn't think logically. You just knew that you wanted space. You didn't want his kind words or soothing voice. You didn't want his promises that it would get better because everything felt hopeless. You got up off the couch and darted to the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Alex was quick to follow. You slid down the door, sobbing, as he tapped on the other side.

"Y/N? Please let me in," he murmured softly, but you didn't move. You shook against the door as the sobs wreaked havoc in you. "Y/N, please, let me help you."

"You can't help me," you sobbed out. Nothing could help you. You were too far gone. You were a lost cause. You didn't deserve help, anyways.

"Y/N, please. Let me try. What can I do?" He begged on the other side, and you only sobbed.

"Just leave me alone, please."

There was a pause. "I can't. Especially not when you're like this. Please let me in. It hurts me that you're hurting alone."

"I don't mean to hurt you," you whispered as you stared out the small window. "I just don't want to bother you-"

"You never bother me-"

You laughed bitterly, breathlessly. "I'm always a bother. I'm just a burden to everyone. I make your life harder, Alex. I don't even know why you stick around. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve anything-"

"Y/N, that's enough," his voice was firm. "You deserve the world. We talked about this. No negative self speak-"

"But it's true!" You wailed in despair, your hands clenching your shoulders as you tried to hold yourself together. "I hate this. I hate everything I am, Alex! I'm a mess! I'm nothing but a hopeless mess, and you can't fix me! I'm a lost cause! Just give up on me!"

You had never said any of this out loud. Alex had always been quick to stop your self speak, but he let you talk this time. You had to let it out.

"Y/N, I love every bit of you. You are not a mess, not to me. As long as I'm alive, you will never be a lost cause. I will never, ever give up on you. No matter what you do or who you become, I will always love you because you are still that person I fell in love with."

"You're wasting your time," you whispered, panting for breath. You could hardly speak now, and Alex knew this. He could hear your labored breathing.

"Please," he breathed, "Y/N, open the door. We can get through this together. I don't want you to hurt alone. I'm here, please, just let me be here with you."

You were choking on sobs, unable to breathe, and you deflated to the floor, slowly curling into a fetal position. Alex tried the door handle, and swore gently when he realized it was still locked.

"I don't pretend to know the challenges you're facing, but I do know that I love you. I want to tackle these challenges with you. You won't scare me off, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving. I'm staying right here. I'm not going to leave you to hurt by yourself. You deserve help, love, and happiness, and I'm going to do my best to get you that, but you have to let me try. Please," his voice was so soft, and it kept cracking.

You hated yourself for making him cry. Your attack had peaked, and now it was slowly receding. It hadn't been one of the worst, but that still didn't mean it was great.

"You don't get it, Alex," your voice was raspy from your silent crying. "I hate me. I don't deserve you, help, happiness, or any of it, and I can't keep doing this."

"Please don't say that," he whispered to you.

You didn't listen. "I've prayed to God, so many times that He would either make things better or let me die, and nothing has gotten better. I'm so tired, Alex. I can't keep doing this. It hurts too much. I just want a break."

"What are you saying, Y/N?" His voice was sharp with fear. He knew exactly why you were saying, but he was hoping he was wrong.

You managed to stutter through another round of sobs. "I wanna die, Alex. I j-just wanna die. Why can't He just let me die? I don't wanna be here anymore. I just wish He'd let me die. Please, let me die. Just let me die."

You could hear him crying on the other side of the door, and you cried too. You felt so disgusting. So broken. He deserved more than you.

"Y/N, please, open the door. I'm afraid you'll do something to hurt yourself. Please," he pleaded as he cried, but you didn't get up from the floor. You couldn't bring yourself to move. You were freezing, but the cold tile felt good against your hot, tear soaked face.

"No, you deserve more than me," you reasoned, and you heard him pound on the door.

"Please," he sounded desperate, "let me hold you. I need to know you're okay, that you're safe."

He broke your heart. You broke your own heart. He loved you so so much, despite how awful you were, and you couldn't understand it. You didn't deserve it.

"Hey, remember what you told me when I refused to sleep for that straight week in February after Lafayette went back to France?" He whispered, and you wondered what that had to do with anything. Then you remembered.

"I told you the depression lies... that it's okay to be weak. But this is different-"

"It's not. You've helped me so much, Y/N. You are the good that's in the world. Now let me help you, please."

"I don't deserve it-"

"So what?" He argued, and you knew he was right. "So what? Is the universe going to explode? I think you deserve it, but for argument's sake, let's say you don't. So what? We all get things we don't deserve. I happen to think we all deserve love. Hell, Hitler had love, and you're nowhere near Hitler level, sweetheart."

Despite yourself, you found your chest bubbling with laughter.

"If you're so hellbent on saying you don't deserve it, then fine. We'll just say you owe me one. How does that sound?" His voice was on edge. You could tell every instinct in him was to kick down the door, but he knew that would be the opposite of helpful. Instead, he was compromising with you.

"Fine," you knew it was the best you could get, and your attack was wearing off. Your mind was clearing, and your cheeks were heated with the embarrassment of it all. Alex had always said that you should never be ashamed of your mental illness, but you couldn't help it. You still felt pathetic.

You slowly pulled yourself off the floor and fumbled for the lock. As soon as it clicked out of place, the door swung open and hands were on you. You were pulled against his chest in a tight embrace. You hugged him back timidly as he held you on the floor, stroking your hair. His grasp was tight, as if he was afraid to lose you.

He kissed the top of your head as he held you against him, "Please, Y/N, I know things are bad. I know it's scary. You're afraid. That's okay. But we're a team, okay? You never have to fight this by yourself. I'm always here. I want to help you, and if you need to owe me one so that you can accept it, then know that you help me with my struggles every day just by being in my life. I know people can't fix each other, but we can dull the pain. I can support you and love you through it while you fix yourself. I just... please, don't give up. Don't give up on yourself. Maybe one day, you can love yourself as much as I love you, and I can't wait to see that day. I just need you to stick around for it. Promise me you won't lock me out again?"

His sweet words had made you cry again. Your chest ached with how much he loved you. You promised yourself that you would never put him in that position again. You never wanted to hurt him.

So you looked up at him and gave him a quick peck. Tears glimmered in his eyes, and you gave him a weak smile. "I promise."

#alexander hamilton #hamiltrash #hamilton #hamilton x reader #anxiety #panic attack #fanfiction #fanfic #my work #my writing #you are not alone

123 notes · View notes

ulrichfoester · 5 years

Text

Mental Health and Gun Violence in Young Men

Sadly, the names of recent mass murderers have become a list so long that it is hard to recall those from even just a year ago. When attempting to plot the locations of each horrendous mass execution on a US map, it becomes clear that the problem has taken on epidemic proportions. Americans are murdering each other at an alarming rate, and the majority of the murders happen to be white young men.

When considering gun violence in young men we are left grasping to find the reasons why. Why would a young adult male, just as he is entering adulthood, chose to perpetrate just a heinous crime? What could possibly be the motive behind the exploding rates of gun violence in young men?

Theories abound. The young adult men are disenfranchised. They suffer from mental illness. They were bullied. They identified as white nationalist. They discriminated against transgender individuals. They had a history of treatment with a psychotropic drug. They had anger issues. They played violent video games. The list of potential motivations continued to grow unabated. As we struggle to make sense of these violent acts, one thing has become clear, that something is very wrong with our young men.

Let’s explore these issues, one by one.

Feeling disenfranchised. One of the common threads that seem to run through the profiles of each mass shooter is the appearance of being unpopular; they felt disempowered or disenfranchised among their peers. These feelings may have been articulated by the shooter himself through a written letter or social media post, or conveyed by former classmates or acquaintances in interviews after the fact. The young men may have been lonely with few social interactions outside of social media, where they would find others who could relate to their misery. Many of these individuals were considered outcasts in school, asocial, or just odd.

They had mental illness. It is difficult to challenge the assumption that the gun violence in young men is fueled by mental illness. After all, who in their right mind would make such a plan and then carry it out? It would seem that only someone who is mentally disturbed would ever go through with a mass shooting of innocent civilians. In fact, the profiles that emerge of many of the young shooters indeed points to emotional instability, whether that is a diagnosable mental health disorder remains unclear. Antisocial personality disorder is characterized by a lack of empathy, social isolation, lack of regard for right and wrong, poor relationship skills, and unnecessary risk-taking or dangerous behavior with no regard for the rights or safety of others.

They were bullied. Being bullied is a very real problem for many young people of both genders; a phenomenon perpetuated now even more through the use of social media shaming. Being rejected by one’s peers can lead to an increase in depression or anxiety, as well as aggression, possibly as an outlet for the pain experienced due to the bullying. With school shootings in particular, lashing out in a violent act may be a matter of attempting to get even with classmates who had ostracized them.

They identify as white nationalist. A disturbing trend seems to be developing world wide, as a growing number of mass shooters identify with nationalist motivations or as white nationalists. Whether it is an Islamic radical perpetrating an act of horror in France, Yemen, Germany, or here in the US, or a domestic assault that is backed by a screed or manifesto outlining radical white supremacist views, it seems these individuals gather momentum and inspiration from like-minded people on such fringe online forums as 8chan. The shooter of the most recent massacre in El Paso, Texas apparently associated with fellow nationalists on this site.

They discriminate against transgender community. The Orlando mass shooting in 2016, in which 100 individuals in a gay nightclub were mown down by gunfire, including 49 deaths, is just one example of the anti-gay sentiment sometimes expressed by mass shooters. In fact, the Dayton, Ohio shooter murdered his sister, who identified as a male. A young black man, age 18, allegedly targeted gay men and a transgender woman in his shooting spree this May. Gender discrimination is just another offshoot of the general category of hate crimes that are sometimes at the root of the motivation to murder others.

Psychotropic drugs. One theory posited in recent years as a common denominator in the gun violence in young men involves a history of prescription psychotropic drug therapy. The use of psychiatric medications in childhood is being clinically studied on an ongoing basis to determine long-term effects. Adam Lanza, the 2013 Sandy Hook shooter, had reportedly recently stopped his medications, and the Columbine shooters, Klebold and Harris, also had a history of psych meds. While not established by the scientific community that psychotropic medications may cause violent tendencies, it has been established that antidepressants can induce suicidal thoughts in teens and young adults, and many of these young shooters do wind up committing suicide.

They have anger issues. In the case of Connor Betts, the Dayton shooter, he had a history of using violent, harsh rhetoric regarding fellow classmates, including outlining a “rape list” for certain girls and a “kill list for boys. Domestic violence, another outlet for rage, is also implicated in the mass shooter’s profiles. The shooter at the church in Texas, 26 year-old Devin Kelley, had a history of domestic abuse. Misogyny, or the hatred of women, is yet another form of anger that can play a part in mass shootings.

They play violent video games. Increasingly, experts studying mass shootings are looking at the possible effects of violent video games on psychological health. The “first person shooter,” or FPS genre of games feature the player as a marauding murderer, although often under the guise of a military hero or vigilante style anti-hero. It is concerning that kids who spend hours each week playing such games might become desensitized to violence, or may even begin to adapt the mindset of the characters they play in these games. However, the connection is most likely not causal, but may be a matter of an antisocial kid being drawn to these games, which might later spark the motivation to live out their frustrations or emotional issues through violence.

How to Identify Mental Health Disorders in Young Men

While the public grasps for possible explanations that might shed light on the root cause of the spike of gun violence in young men, a growing awareness about mental health is the takeaway. Regardless of the specific motivator for violence, it is becoming increasingly clear that depression, anxiety, and mood disorders may be on the rise.

No matter the gender, it is important to get help for a teen that exhibits signs of mental distress sooner rather than later. Early intervention is always better in the long run. So, how does a parent or teacher know when a young person is at risk? What are the red flags of an impending mental health crisis?

Signs of Depression:

Loss of interest in usual activities or hobbies

Feelings of sadness, despair, hopelessness

Fatigue

Sleep problems

Sudden weight loss or weight gain

Slowed movements

Difficulty concentrating or remember things

Irritability

Inappropriate feelings of guilt or worthlessness

Suicidal thoughts

Signs of Anxiety Disorder:

Excessive worry or fear out of proportion to the situation

Mood swings

Pronounced irritability

Trembling, shaking

Chest pain

Sweating

Shallow breathing

Increased heart rate

Insomnia

Signs of Bipolar disorder:

Extreme mood shifts between mania and depression

Irritability

Impulsivity

Engaging in high-risk behaviors

Hypersexuality

Substance abuse

Signs of Antisocial Personality Disorder:

Lack of empathy

Irritability

Aggressive or violent behavior

Manipulative behaviors

Lack of remorse when causing harm to others

Disregard for rules or authority

Impulsivity

Signs of a Psychiatric Emergency

When symptoms of a mental health disorder deteriorate further, causing an escalation in severity, it is essential that a mental health provider, usually in a hospital or residential mental health care center, thoroughly evaluate the individual. A psychiatric emergency has developed with the individual risks causing harm to themselves or others. A hospital setting is best for acute stabilization of a psychiatric emergency.

Signs of a psychiatric emergency include:

Serious impairment in daily functioning

Social withdrawal, isolation

Serious interpersonal problems develop

Acting out, disruptive behaviors

Neglect of personal hygiene

Self-harming behaviors when serious bodily harm results

Violent behavior towards others

Suicidal threats or attempts

Residential mental health programs are an appropriate setting for individuals whose mental health has declined to the point where they may engage in aggressive or violent acts if left unsupervised. A residential setting provides constant monitoring and support, as well as more intensive, customized care.

When a parent, coworker, teacher, or friend recognizes the red flag warnings of an impending mental health crisis, it is imperative to get the individual the care they need before it results in a tragedy, such as a mass shooting.

The Treatment Specialist Offers Information and Guidance for Mental Health Disorders

An online resource, such as The Treatment Specialist, is valuable when someone is in need of speedy information regarding unusual signs of mental distress. The specialists are knowledgeable and experienced in the mental health field and can offer timely information and assistance at no charge. This digital catalogue of mental health disorders, substance use disorders, and dual diagnosis can help guide someone toward the appropriate source of help. Call The Treatment Specialist today at (866) 644-7911.

The post Mental Health and Gun Violence in Young Men appeared first on The Treatment Specialist.

Mental Health and Gun Violence in Young Men published first on https://familycookwareshop.tumblr.com/

0 notes

thtbeastinside-blog · 7 years

Text

All You Need to Know About How to Get Rid of Depression and Anxiety for GOOD.

New Post has been published on http://thtbeast.com/all-you-need-to-know-about-how-to-get-rid-of-depression-and-anxiety-for-good/

All You Need to Know About How to Get Rid of Depression and Anxiety for GOOD.

Depression is an exhausting illness characterized by feelings of despair, gloominess, and hopelessness. In turn depression can lead to being unable to cope, both mentally and physically, through severe tiredness and inability to concentrate. Regrettably there are many sufferers who strive to carry on, but without treatment depression can last for months or even years.

Consistent angry or hostile attitude, especially when alternating between tearful, sad moods, Uncharacteristic withdrawal from family and friends; socially isolating one’s self, Feeling worthless, guilty, useless, the reason for everyone’s problems, Agitated state of mind, often restless and sometimes aggressive, Disinterest in activities that were once enjoyed, Hyposomnia or insomnia, Thinking or talking about death and suicide, Engaging in risky behaviors such as drug and/or alcohol addiction, prostitution, gambling , Anorexia, bulimia or overeating. These are ALL the common things people who are depressed experience or go through.

Freedom from misery and depression involves rupturing that identification. There is a dual reality: 1) you are who you are and 2) you experience all sorts of incidents in your life that have nothing whatsoever to do with who you are. Having an embodied, innate awareness of that truth is the definitive cure for depression.

Core beliefs are found at the center of everyones depression and can be thought of as nuggets of self-hatred. They develop in the aftermath of experiences that you think define who you are. In short, all your mental anguish is caused by identification with experience. As an example, think of what happens when a child is raised by psychologically unbalanced, alcoholic parents. They elect to spend their time going out drinking rather than raising their child. As a result of that experience the child comes to understand “they rebuff me because I’ m unlovable”. But the actual source for the rejection is that the parents don’t have the necessary emotional understanding to parent a child, nor the desire to develop them. When experience is misinterpreted and taken personally, a core belief evolves: “This experience means I am?”

Depression can have a profound affect on everything and everyone surrounding those that suffer from it, their work, and those close to them, especially friends and family. In our work like there are decisions that would be hard to make, and your production slowed and at home interest in activities would be diminished with family unable to share enjoyable moments. It is difficult for someone with depression to show affection for another therefore, there is diminished sexual activity. Those suffering from depression will also avoid friends and social gatherings, and lose interest in hobbies. The effects of depression can be quite devastating to the individual and all those around that individual.

Probably the most significant component of depression, if not all of it, is the feeling that you don’t have control over what is happening in your world. It has been shown that making animals powerless to change their world automatically makes them depressed. The sad feeling comes from the idea that you will never be able to improve your situation, whatever it is. There is no hope for you.

Now onto How to get rid of Depression and Anxiety FOREVER

The problem with all the people being depressed is NOBODY does anything about it, nobody takes that footstep towards helping themselves or someone they know suffering from depression. Depression is serious, some people cope with methods I don’t even want to mention here. I have had depression for many years, I came from a dysfunctional family. I have done things I wouldn’t even admit here.

I took my first STEP and went online and wanted to buy self help books for depression and low self esteem. Mind you this was many years after I tried all the prescriptions probably most of you have tried if you ever have went and got your depression treated by a physician. None the less, I don’t tend to spend money on something I don’t trust, or know that works. So I was on the many depression forums, eBook review sites, etc and came across the book that helped me control my REALITY, learn how to overcome self esteem issues, and completely learn how to get rid of depression on your own. LEARN,

“Does depression ever go away“

Exactly what depression is, how it takes control over your life and why it is so different from a simple case of the “blues”.

What causes depression and why it continues to persist in your life

How to decode your own, unique pattern of symptoms

A step-by-step treatment plan that will work to free you from a lifetime of negative thinking and self blame.

How you can regain your energy, restore your self confidence and rediscover your passion for life

A simple test to find out whether you’re depressed and learn when you should seek medical help for your depression

How mindfulness can shift your attention from depression to happiness.

Greater clarity of mind so you can think clearly, make decisions more easily and be in control of your life.

Which drugs, herbs and treatments really work… and which have harmful side-effects that you should always avoid

How you can stop the “monkey mind” in its tracks, regain your focus and rediscover your concentration

Why focusing on depression only makes it worse… and the simple trick you can do instead.

How to ensure depression – and all its symptoms – will not return.

For many people anxiety is a problem that is difficult to overcome, but if you know how to deal with the issues that are causing you to worry, then it should be easier for you to manage the situation. The following method will show you how to avoid the situations in your life that cause you to feel anxious.

Second, let yourself off the hook. Seriously. I am going to go all zen on you and just tell you “it is what it is”. It really doesn’t matter how or why you have an anxiety disorder. You have it. (wait – exception here if you have a phobia. If you have an irrational fear of something it can be really helpful to find out why you are afraid…then a professional can help you fix that!) Let yourself off the hook. Would you be all judgmental if you had multiple sclerosis? No. This is the same. Likely even if you get over your initial bout of anxiety and learn to manage it well, you may find that your symptoms of anxiety may resurface at different times of your life (often when you least expect it). You are going to have to love yourself without judgement and except “today I am nervous. It is what it is. I got through it before, I’ll get through it again”.

How To Deal With Anxiety

I’ve recommended this before, and I’m recommending it again because it destroyed my anxiety disorder, and gave me a social-able life I never had growing up! I use to be that kid with no friends, for what felt like forever I felt like I have NO ONE in my life, besides family, seriously! Now I’m not exactly popular but I am who I am, I have friends, a fiance, a child, a job, MY LIFE. I have no problem making people laugh, or acting out of my comfort zone, I’m HAPPY, and FREE.

Anyways, mindfulness is the depression and anxiety impact factor! Mentioned above if you’re still reading, and in this article (CLICK) This book DOES work people, I’m not preaching it here. Combined with the above book the depression and anxiety impact factor COMPLETELY takes you back to reality, allows you to understand that the past is the past, and it’s about where we are NOW. Stop saying I want to get rid of my anxiety and depression and just do it already!

#buy self help books for anxiety and depression #buy self help books for depression and anxiety #buy self help books for depression and low self esteem #does depression ever go away #i have no reason to live

0 notes

a-glutton-for-punishment-blog · 7 years

Text

What I Think of Marijuana

For most of my teenage life, marijuana has been described to me as a party drug. I had subscribed to that idea for the vast majority of said teenage life, and into my adulthood as well.

I first started smoking it when I was 16 years old, and for me then it was just something fun to do. It rocked, I loved the feeling I got while I was on it, and it just made everything feel better.

That was the year I stopped cutting the first time. See at this point I had been cutting for 2 years. By age 16, I was to the point of not even trying to hide it in school anymore because I just didn’t give a fuck. I was done, done with school, done with rules, done with people who just really didn’t give a shit about me, and done with everything.

I was being bullied, I had broken up with who I still consider to be my first real love, (who to this day if he genuinely asked me to consider dating him again I would say yes immediately. It was the... WORST decision to break up with him, and although I live my life to the idea of ‘no regrets because every experience made me who I am today’, the decision is one that comes very close to a regret.) and I was learning that some of the friends around me that I thought were my best friends, were just using me to make themselves look better, and because I walked them through their homework and gave the answers at the end so they basically ‘liked’ me because I (didn’t realize at the time they were using me and thought i was actually helping them but in hindsight i realize otherwise, and because) did their goddamned homework for them.

So I gave in. I had a couple stoner friends, they always seemed so damn laid back, they enjoyed life, my life sucked. I was lashing out on my body because i liked my personality (still do), so I saw the only reason everything bad happening around me must have been due to my body size. I started stealing things, basically my life devolved.

I asked my stoner friends to hook me up, and one finally said yes after she told me I had to take a month to really think about why I wanted to start and then if I still wanted to, she’d help. She was really one of my best friends, and not one who used me. We had the best of times, and I kinda felt like I fit right in to her family. They were a family that smoked together, drank together, and partied together. Even up to grandma, yes my high school friend’s grandma got in on that stuff. It was amazing, and still some of my fondest memories.

I came back a month later and I smoked with her. Stayed a week at her house was stoned every waking hour that I wasn’t in school (we didn’t bring it to school too risky), and it was amazing.

After that week had ended, and the effects wore off, I found myself withdrawing again. I had gone right back to how I was before. Constantly fixated on everything that was wrong in my life, obsessed with death to the point of seeking out and watching people get murdered and commit suicide on camera on some of the most fascinating and horrifying parts of the web, and falling down an emotional roller coaster faster and faster. Daddy told me that he thought I was depressed and that I may have taken after him in the anger issues department and told me to watch that so I didn’t get put in jail for shit I’d regret later. (His words.)

At this point my dad put me into my own apartment the next town over from him. He paid the rent for me, and I lived there alone... until I let my boyfriend move in... and then let the guy who I didn’t know who my neighbor had kicked out move in cause he seemed nice and like he just really needed a place to crash. 16 year old me did this. The guy we let move in beat the shit out of his girlfriend who had also moved in with a 2x4, and the cops got called. Then he returned later and stole my tv, some of my clothes, some of daddy’s clothes he kept over there for when he visited, and some of my boyfriend’s clothes. Needless to say, it was an enlightening experience about letting complete strangers move in with you.

Then I realized that I wanted to cut again. And then I realized that that week I was high, I didn’t wanna cut. It made life ridiculously tolerable. I decided then I wanted more, and so my friend and I pooled our weekly money together, and got stoned usually 4 of the 7 days of the week for like the next year.

At the time I didn’t realize it because I had spent far too much of my time thinking that marijuana was just some party drug. I often combined it with alcohol, which more often than not led to me puking my guts up because I’d drank way too much, or hitting on everyone withing talking distance. But when I didn’t combine it with alcohol I was relaxed, I was content, I was--dare I say it? Happy! I hadn’t felt this kind of happiness since my last big family christmas with my mom’s side of the family. Life was beautiful, and on those days I never had the urge to cut.

I moved around a bit, and every time after that I had marijuana, the effects were much the same. As I aged, I wound up with several bodily pains due to shitty decisions while drinking. Let’s just say my right knee, right hip, mid right back, upper back, and neck all have related problems with them, all due to dumb ass decisions of mine.

Over time I started to notice that with certain strains of marijuana, my physical ailments began to stop hurting nearly as badly. While still present, they became tolerable, and much less pained.

This on again off again cycle of soul crushing self hatred that I had built up, which only got worse with the cutting, which only made the cutting worse, then flipping to total complacency, kept me from understanding and seeing the full benefits of marijuana. In fact, well into my adulthood I still didn’t understand. I began to start comprehending it when I was around 26.

But it wasn’t until today that I can fully understand the mental impact marijuana has on me. To give some backstory of today, my mom is dying. My stepdad and I are overwhelmed, mom has given up and refuses medical treatment. She’s on hospice and wants to let her illnesses kill her rather than seek help. She’s done, and now we’re just waiting, trying to keep her as comfortable as possible, while she dies.

I’ve been taking care of my mom for over a year now. I’ve been doing everything from bathing, helping use the bathroom, cooking, cleaning, and fetching whatever she wants whenever she wants it. She never asked me to, I’ve put myself here. Part of the reason, she took care of me as a baby. It’s the least I can do to care for her back when she no longer can as well. The other part of the reason, I feel responsible. I was the catalyst of an accident that caused a major injury which had her bedridden. For about 6 months she was bedridden and I felt it was my fault. Still do.

This led to complications with various illnesses she had, which progressively got worse. Now we’re to the point that hospice believes the infection set in her from the cellulitis and the necrosis in the skin seeping into the muscle is going to be what kills her, and sooner rather than later. Now it’s 14 months later after the initial injury, and I am overwhelmed with guilt that I caused this. Everyone and their damn brother has told me that this isn’t my burden to bare, but it is. So long as the blame fits, it sticks. My mind will not change on this matter at the current trajectory of my life.

I’ve been having some problems coping with the situation as a whole, and recently, after 3 years of being self-harm free, I started cutting again. Only on the nights with alcohol or sobriety. And I think the stress is really getting to me, because I’ve started seeing and hearing things that aren’t there at all. Some examples, heard a baby crying in my living room, heard unintelligible chatter from behind me, saw rain coming out of my phone, saw old wounds fill with blood then drain the blood, and that’s just to name a few. I’ve been hearing things lately about 3-4 times a day.

Today when I came in to help my mom, I had done well, I’d thought. I cut on the weekend, ripped off some skin, felt MASSIVELY relieved that I’d done so, got enough sleep to stay up today, knew hospice was coming to help take care of some things with me, and even took a tranquilizer before I got here to ensure I wasn’t as bad as the last time I was here when I almost cried that one time.

Then I walked in... and the first thing mama said to me was, ‘blue pig’ and then she giggled and shook her head. Over the course of the day, I realized just how much she’d deteriorated in 4 days. Then she asked me if I had let the little mouse out of the cabinet. There was no mouse ever. She asked if I could explain the difference between a waist and a pair of overalls, she told me I needed to get a friend with a little T & A for my bird. I don’t even have a bird.

Everything else she tried to tell me was unintelligible. I’d have to say ‘What?’ so many times that it frustrated her and she’d just go ‘nevermind!’ after the 5th or 6th time trying to tell me. I really was trying to understand, but I couldn’t. She was slurring her words, and what little I could make out didn’t make sense.

Today I had 2 shaking fits, 6 bouts of crying, took two more tranquilizers to calm panic attacks, spoke to a crisis center, and had the overwhelming urge to cut so much that I almost stole a razor to cut in the bathroom. I started contemplating if life was worth this, if this was going to be how I felt for the rest of my days, and if my fear of blinking out of existence would be enough to keep me from killing myself, Then I lucked out.

Let’s just say some things happened, and I managed to get my hands on some marijuana. Immediately after my third hit, it all went away. The urge to cry, the intense need to slice my leg open, the shaking, the feeling of utter hopelessness and despair, and the feeling as though I were teetering on the edge of a panic attack on one side, and insanity on the other--ALL OF IT was gone. No longer contemplating if fear could keep me from suicide for much longer, no longer having obsessive thoughts to the point of pacing around outside so mama didn’t see me, and no more physical pain either.

Right now, I’m content. I understand why my mom is as she is, and while I still feel some guilt, I also understand that she’s been ready to die for years now, and she sees this as the catalyst to stop her own pain. Right now, while I have marijuana in my system, I’m able to process this. I’m able to talk about, sympathize with, acknowledge, and understand the situation. I’m not burdened by fear, anger, and oppressive depression. Right now, death is although still scary because of possibilities, only another stage of existence. Right now I can hope that death brings an evolution of sorts, beyond our physical bodies and the petty worries and strifes of mankind, into a more peaceful and knowing state of being. When I’m sober, I can’t fathom that that could ever be true, because while I’m sober I live in daily walking fear of possibilities beyond my control.

Side note; I’ve just noticed I haven’t been counting everything I’m doing in fours. So we can add calms obsessive rituals and the compulsion to complete them to the list of reasons. For me, marijuana isn’t a party drug. It’s an antidepressant, antianxiety, and a panic attack stopper. It’s a single naturally growing herb that takes the place of the several chemical pills which my doctors would prefer I take. It’s cheaper than my pills, it doesn’t make me feel sick like my pills, and I actually look forward to being alive and awake while I’m on it.

TL;DR -- Marijuana isn’t a party drug, it’s a god damned life saving sanity preserving medicine.

0 notes