#i can vent without fear continue scrolling with shame

[blessedchaosgod]

I love Tumblr because nobody knows me irl so I can do whatever the fuck I want.

[iamanartichoke]

Why do you feel that way about fandom? (In regards to your latest reblog)

Ah, I’m not sure if I know how to explain it, but I’ll try. (This got long, so I’m really sorry.)

The thing is, I first got into the Loki fandom early in 2018, so I’m coming up on about two years of being active here. That first year was so fun and exciting; I was elated to be able to discuss my Loki theories and meta with like-minded people, and I was so happy (and surprised!) at the attention my fic was getting.

I was also still at a point where I believed IW was going to blow our minds, so there was that extra kind of thrill of suspense (and a bit of fear but, when you believe in the MCU and haven’t yet lost faith in its writers/directors, the fear is surface-level and adds to the thrill - there’s not really the accompanying dread and despair). 

IW was a crushing blow to that, of course, but even though we were all devastated, we were all devastated as a fandom. We were still in it together; we had one another to vent to and cry with and share fic with. “Loki is alive bc reasons” became kind of an unwritten rule in most post-IW fics; we all agreed that Loki deserved better. 

In 2019, two things happened: one, I was underemployed and dragging my feet on finding better employment due to my mental health, which ruined my life for a little while. I had to move back in with my parents, which (I love them and am grateful they were willing to support me, but) was a toxic environment. I was too depressed to indulge in my escapism the same way (fic and fandom) and my progress on my stories slowed way down. I’ve never quite been able to get back the momentum I had when writing Sanctuary, but that’s another issue. 

The second thing that happened was, obviously, Endgame came out and whatever theories and hopes the fandom was collectively holding onto about Loki were crushed. Not only that, but the portrayal of Thor seemed to amplify the divide in the fandom between the pro/anti Ragnarok argument. 

It seems, to me, that what was a series of battles or skirmishes only became an all-out war after Endgame. That’s only my perception, of course, but I do feel that the latter part of 2019 saw the divide grow larger and larger. Everyone had opinions on what the “correct” portrayal of Thor was, and how it related to Loki, and whether fanon Thor and Loki’s relationship was founded in canon or not. Everyone was defensive of their own point of view; bullying and name-calling and anon hate became more widespread. 

Again, this is just my observation. Those who’ve been on the front lines since Ragnarok came out probably have a much different perspective; I’m only talking about what I observed bc it directly impacts how I feel about fandom these days. 

So here we are in 2020; like I said, I’ve been here about two years. I haven’t rewatched any of the Thor movies in ages (although @delyth88 and I are talking about it), because they make me so sad and also so angry. Sad for what we had, angry for what could have been. So much wasted potential. Loki’s horrific end hangs over everything, as does Thor’s radical character change, and I don’t have the same excited outlook about the characters and the meta potential anymore. 

Not having watched the movies in a long time, along with that feeling of “ugh” around them, impacts me creatively bc I’m not actively feeding my writing inspiration. For me, fanfic writing comes from being so full of feels about the source material that I just can’t get enough and I need more. I draw my inspiration from things like watching Loki’s facial expressions, catching subtle moments between Thor and Loki, analyzing the way they speak, thinking about the story choices happening, and so on, and so on. 

My source of inspiration has dried up, in other words, which has made it hard for me to keep a good writing momentum going. I was feeling great when I rewrote Sea, and then my inspiration kind of plummeted again - this time, bc I felt that I did such a good job rewriting and the response was so positive, I didn’t know if I could finish the rest of the story as well. Like I was already setting up the second half to fail, bc it would be much more “rough draft” than the first - revised and polished, yes, but not gone over with a fine-toothed comb the way the first part was. 

The truth is, I carry a lot of stress and anxiety around my writing. I am always incredibly anxious that no one actually likes my fic, that no one is reading my fic, that people think it’s stupid or pointless, that my quirky humorous touches are ooc, that my plotlines are convoluted and boring and my sex scenes awkward and non-existent. 

I’m having trouble with the Valki relationship bc I haven’t watched Ragnarok in so long, I’ve forgotten how much chemistry was between them and how it made me feel. I’ve forgotten why I chose to pair them up in this ‘verse in the first place. And I worry about that, too - that the people who read my stories for the Valki are walking away unsatisfied. 

So that’s where I am with fic writing - slow and steady, still trying to find my footing, still secretly assuming what I write is shit.

This is on top of feeling more and more isolated on tumblr, mostly because of the aforementioned tensions and overall negativity that’s erupted in the fandom. I have been unfollowed and blocked by people who were once mutuals; I have been blocked by people I’ve never spoken to before. 

There’s so much stress surrounding the things I post now - I’m constantly thinking, have I worded this correctly to convey my meaning without shitting on someone else’s opinion? Is this post going to be the one that makes this or that mutual unfollow me? Am I tagging correctly so my pro Ragnarok mutuals don’t see my criticism, and vice versa? Can I still post pictures of Chris Hemsworth, who is possibly the only man in the world I am definitely attracted to, which is a shame bc I agree that he’s kind of a douche now? But he’s so beautiful, but I have to disclaim that it’s just his face I’m attracted to? If I reblog this post about Loki that I think is hilarious, but is also founded on the flat stabby villain characterization, will I alienate my anti friends? Does it imply I don’t understand or appreciate Loki and that, by reblogging the thing, I’m endorsing a shitty characterization? 

And so on. It makes scrolling my dashboard uncomfortable and un-fun, bc I end up saving tons of posts to my drafts without reblogging them, and after awhile I am not enjoying myself, so I stop scrolling. 

But this means I miss tons of mutuals’ posts, and I was trying to check individual blogs for awhile but I kept falling further behind, and there were more and more posts I’d missed, and I’d get overwhelmed and then feel like they probably hated me anyway at this point for being a shit mutual, so I might as well just keep lurking on the dash for ten minutes and call it a day. 

On top of that, I haven’t read fic in awhile bc of this mindset, so I haven’t commented, and then when I don’t get comments it’s like, well, maybe the story’s not shitty but no one’s reading it bc what do I expect when I’m not reading theirs? You’re not special, Charlotte. 

The worst part about all of this is that none of it should diminish (and hasn’t diminished!) my love of Loki as a character. I am excited about the series, but I am also very anxious about it - about the story not being good, yes, but also about the inevitably divide that will further split the fandom. 

No matter how the story goes, someone’s going to be upset. You can’t please everyone, and trying only makes for worse storytelling. So the wank will continue. 

But I love Loki. I love everything about him. I am interested in writing about him and reading about him and thinking about him. I am invested in him and always will be. It’s just that, right now, I’m kind of falling further and further out of fandom and I find I have less to say. 

And so I either have to wait it out, or work on my own mindset, or keep on keeping on. I just don’t know how long that will take or if I’m even liked enough here to try to bother. 

tl;dr: Fandom has made me cynical and jaded, and it has dampened not my love of Loki, but my love of interacting with the Loki fandom.

(I know you didn’t ask for this hot garbage pile of my feelings, anon, so I’m sorry.) 

[alllthingsme]

A note you'll probably never read.

I haven't posted on here in a while. Mainly because of so many changes happening with moving to nyc and starting grad school. But sometimes on nights like these, it feels nice to write out what I'm feeling. To certain people even. Knowing they will probably never read it but atleast knowing its out there should they one day stumble upon it...

It's been almost a year now since my ex left me. And it was a really rough breakup for me. Already dealing with and trying to find the best treatment for my anxiety and depression, I put a lot of strain on my ex that he didn't deserve. I'm not going to pretend he didn't have his faults in the relationship because he certainly did and I'm sure he would still agree to that. But even after the breakup I just fell apart. I lost control and had a total breakdown. I harassed him. Texted and called him incessantly because I was terrified of being abandoned.... Again. I know now had I just given him the time and respected the distance he needed, the outcome may have very well been different. But you know what they say. Hindsight is 20/20. And now there's nothing I can do to change the person I ruined. And though that person was myself I'm a lot of ways, the person I really destroyed was my ex. I, being the damaged and broken (still am, but you know shatter a plate a few times and you'll never put it all back together) person that I was (am) I brought down another human being. Someone I love and care immensely about. Someone who literally and I mean LITERALLY put their entire life on hold for me. And I am so ashamed of myself for everything that I did.

This past year I've been through a lot. And had to admit things and discover things about myself that I'm really not proud of. I fell into a major depressive episode. I had panic attacks daily. I wasn't eating. I didn't sleep for 8 nights straight. I missed several days of work.Had panic attacks at work and had to be relieved so that I could go home. I was literally on a very dangerous and terrifying path to a mental breakdown. One I ultimately ended up having the night I attempted to take my own life. Thankfully my roommate came home and found me, but I hardly remember that now. It took months to recover and I still haven't. (Clearly I'm writing in my blog at 3 in the morning almost a year after he dumped my sorry ass) I ended up seeing a counselor for a while before I moved and discovered a lot about my mental health. More precisely my diagnosis. I also had several visits to my primary care physician to trial and error about 6 different psychiatric drugs before finding the combination and cocktail if you will that has worked most effectively. (The one I'm on now... One mood stabilizer, one antidepressant, and one sedative later and here we are--- all better right?) that in itself was truly draining and exhausting. Switching and weaning off one med and on to another. Going from one side effect to others. I have never felt so emotionally drained as I did when I was trying to find the right medicine.

However, more importantly I began to really understand why I was feeling and acting and behaving the way that I was. I later came to find out that along with my anxiety and depression I have a borderline personality disorder. Which didn't surprise me because it's hereditary and my grandmother had it as well. Including the others. But with it I finally found the answer to the irrational and terrifying behaviors I hardly remember or have an recollection of doing. On the night I attempted suicide, I got off work and drove (hysterically crying and having a panic attack) to my exes house calling him on the way and begging him to talk to me and see me. And to this day I don't remember driving there or back. I don't remember getting home. I don't remember doing any of it. I remember parts of it as if I were watching someone else do it. But not as myself. I remember feeling like I was watching myself open the bottle of trazadone and throwing back a few thousand milligrams. I remember it as if I were watching a movie. a bystander screaming at me to stop. Like I had lost all control of my own body. I guess I heard myself screaming though because that's when I immediately stuck my finger down my throat to try and throw up every pill I had swallowed. I began to vomit and dropped the rest of the bottle in the toilet before passing out from hypervenalting in the bathroom floor.

To this day it remains one of the most hauntingly terrifying moments of my entire life and I don't even remember it as if it happened to me. I remember it as if I were watching it happen to someone else. Which I would later understand to be symptom of a dissociative personality disorder. Also a symptom of BPD which now all makes sense. Dissociation occurs when your mind separates itself from your physical being and detaches from reality. It's a coping mechanism used by people who undergo serious trauma in life. As a way to protect themselves by detaching from the moment and seeing the events unfold from a third person perspective so as to not be the direct victim. Given my childhood emotional, physical and sexual abuse... I guess that now all makes sense. It's something I later realized I experienced during my severe panic attacks. A loss of control. Impulsive and obsessive behavior free to inhabit my body while I was temporarily "out for lunch- be back when the trauma is over".

It's truly terrifying to experience and also quite shameful. It has caused a lot of havoc in my life and made me realize how much I am to blame for so many fights and arguments. And breakups. Abandonments. Which brings me to the real point of this post- acknowledging the role I played in tearing apart the relationship I lay here at 3:30 in the morning crying over despite the fact that it ended a year ago.

I was controlling. Manipulative and just all around a really shitty boyfriend. I have/had deep rooted insecurities that constantly made me feel as if I wasn't good enough or that I was going to be left or abandoned again (guess I was right). I constantly feared he would find someone better or realize that he already had it with his best friend and didn't need me anymore.

Because of that, I ruined everything. I ruined me. Us. And him... Him. I did that. This man put his life on hold for me. Put off his dream of moving to New York so that he could stay behind and be with me. Take care of me and start a relationship with me. He did all of that for me and I was too fucking blind to see it. Though I wanted to support and push him to move he wouldn't. He stayed for me and then when everything fell apart, I left. He slipped up and made stupid decisions to which he is now suffering from... He lost his security. His apartment in Manhattan. He lost his way and it was and is... All my fault. And I am so torn up about it because everyday I just want to drive down, throw his shit in the car and drive him up here where he belongs and I can't. There's nothing I can do now. He won't talk to me. He won't answer me. He wants absolutely nothing to do with me to the point that I can't even reach out to him without the fear of being charged with harassment. I failed him. And us and I dropped all the pieces of our relationship into his lap and expected him to fix it all without ever taking 2 seconds to think about him and what he needed.

He later confessed that he never felt like he could share anything with me because I always changed the subject to myself. I used to hate that he wouldn't open up to me because it made me feel like he didn't care enough to. I could feel him drifting apart in the final months. He got less intimate. He stopped caring as much. He wouldn't hold me in bed. He wouldn't kiss me as long or hug me as hard. I slowly felt him slipping through the cracks of my fingers like sand, without ever once trying to tighten my grip and take initiative to turn things around. Instead, I made them worse. And continued doing so after he left.

Now. I'm in grad school. I'm in way over my head with a double masters program at a prestigious world renowned university that I am terrified I'll fail out of. Living in a city I love without the one who made me fall in love with it. 500 miles away from a man I haven't seen in months but still find myself crying over at 3:30 in the morning on a Saturday night. And on top of that, he is stuck in the shit hole town I handcuffed him to and feeling like a complete failure because of my Bullshit.

I posted something a while back out of anger. That I never should have said. Let alone post. I called him out. On everything. The mistakes he'd made. The mistakes I had made but had blamed on him. I called him names I never meant. And worst of all. I called him a failure for not moving away and making it to the city. A dream he's had for years. A dream he put on hold, to be there and support me while I chased after mine. And I called him a failure for that.... Yeah. No wonder he doesn't want anything to do with me. I don't blame him. And while he didn't know it at the time, I posted it to my blog but not publicly. It was a private post I had written just to vent. Which was suppose to be the extent of it until I spiraled into a rage of anger and sadness that led to me sending him the post directly via email. I don't know why I did it. I don't know why I wanted to hurt him that way. Because he didn't and never deserved it.

He doesn't know it but every now and then I lose what little self control I've developed and scroll through his tumblr. Often times just to see how his mood is that day and if he seems to be okay. Because I worry about him so much. Even still today. Sometimes there will be a post with a hash tag or comment that I almost guarantee Is about me. Sometimes I wonder if he knows I do it and post certain things on purpose. Who knows?

I guess part of me secretly hopes he does the same. And that one day he'll stumble across this post and read it and see the apology I so badly want to give him in person. An apology for so many things that I'd never deserve forgiveness for but would love the opportunity to atleast tell him. For the way that I acted both during. And after our relationship. The way I handled it. The breakup. The way I failed to respect him afterwards and give him space and time. The way I didn't listen. The way I selfishly did what I wanted with out ever thinking about how it would affect him or what he specifically wanted. I've since tried to do those things. I've accepted and acknowledged the fact that I'll probably never hear or see from him again. And never get the chance to say I'm sorry the way he deserves. Not that any amount of apology can make up for the turmoil and emotional damage I have caused. And not that I even deserve the chance to apologize. But maybe one day? Right. Probably not but I can't help but hang on to a little part of me that hopes I'm wrong.

Tyler, If you ever read this I want you to know that I am sorry. Truly and gunienly sorry for everything. I had something extraordinary right in front of me and I took it for granted. I lost site of what I had and I let it get away from me. I was emotionally abusive and will never forgive myself for the pain that I caused. I want you to know that I blame myself every day for the fact that you aren't where you wanted to be In life right now. Had it not been for me, I know you'd be in New York right now. Probably with some man who would have made you twice as happy as I ever could have and chasing your dream and your career. I know it doesn't do any good to say these things now but I want you to know that I am sorry I derailed your train.

But I know you enough to know that despite your fears, your hesitations, you'll find a way. You will make it out of Radford. You will move To new York. You'll slowly but surely work your way towards every dream you've ever had. You'll meet some great guy along the way and he will be truly blessed to have you. I just hope he knows that and doesn't make the same mistakes that I did. I hope the road gets easier for you. I hope you start to realize the beauty and worth in yourself that so many other people do. Because you deserve it more than anyone. You are more than meets the surface and although our journey together didn't last, I'm so glad that I met you and that you took me on it. Meeting you was one of the best things to ever happen to me and is a big part of why I am where I am today. And I'll never be able to thank you or give that back to you like you deserve. But for now I'll continue to think of you every time I pass a "2 bros pizza". When I'm sitting at the bar and look out the window. I'll remember shivering in front of you when you took me outside and told me you loved me for the first time. When I go to boxers, I'll remember you taking me there. Everytime I past Amsterdam, I'll think of you. When I get off the Turnpike and see the toll lane for "ticket" customers, I'll remember how you accidentally drove into a booth that was closed and had no one to hand your ticket to. I'll remember all of those things as I live here to constantly remind myself that you are what drove me to chase my dreams here. And the Hopeless romantic in me will always hope that one day, after you've moved up here, we will run into each other on the subway or downtown somewhere and we can try to work through our past. The Hopeless Romantic in me hopes we can one day work through it all and rebuild a life together because nothing would make me happier than the chance to give you back what you deserve.

I know realistically that will probably never happen but for you it will with someone else and they will be truly blessed and lucky to have you. I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you. I know you don't want to hear from me so I'll continue to keep my distance but just know that even still today...

I love you.