#(I’ve had some bad experiences with asking people to accommodate my triggers recently)

[butterfly-apocalypse]

tw: vent, PTSD, flashback 😩

(I’m fine just irritated and upset)

[virghogh]

NCT Birth Charts x Hexaco Results Analyses pt. 2

recently NCT Dream were on a new reality show called Mental Training Camp where they are doing a variety of activities and all of their behavior and interactions are being analyzed by professional psychologists.

ofc my virgo sun mercury ass was thrilled and I had their birth charts pulled up the whole time to cross reference.

I wanted to share some of my personal thoughts on how the 2 might connect!

p.s. Thank u for all the likes on part one !!<3

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

**key: in the hexaco charts the blue represents the Dreamies, the orange is an average result of 300 college students who took the same test**

Renjun - “An artist down to the bones”

✨aries sun // scorpio moon // pisces mercury // pisces venus // taurus mars✨

can i just start with a wow cause!! This title is so bold and what they continued to talk about with him, and when looking at his chart... there is much to unpack here so let’s get into it

they started off his analysis focusing on how much of an “artist” he is. They said 2 qualities a great artists needs is openness and emotionality and he scored way above average in those areas, and the highest of those in his whole group. Looking at his placements I think anyone could tell this person is highly creative. With his 2 pisces placements and water moon in scorpio. There’s a lot more going on with that moon sign than just creativity, but it is a common trait amongst water moons!

I feel like his water energy is responsible for more of his imagination? If you watch a lot of NCT content you can see just how imaginative Renjun is. Especially in the relay vlogs when he was taking us through his art all I could think was wow this guy has crazy (good) imagination! the reason I mention this is because he has a taurus mars. taurus is ruled by venus where we get a lot of our creativity from and it’s a known thing that taurus placements always bring natural creativity. I really think the combination of water imagination with taurus art is a beautiful combo.

 On top of his natural talent in creativity and imagination, scorpio moons absolutely need an outlet. He was truly blessed with placements that give him that outlet <3 They mentioned he could be a poet and scorpio moons are always being recommended to write poetry. His art is essential to his mental and emotional health. 

something really interesting is how they mentioned that mark has traditional leader energy, but Renjun has a “mother-like” leader energy. I thought that was so sweet and really accurate for him. They mentioned how throughout the intro he would scan the others eyes a lot and make contact very subconsciously and with ease. Taking everyone into account. I see this a lot in his 2 pisces placements. I feel like a lot of pisces makes someone very sensitive, in-tune with people and caring/compassionate. And with the slower, calmer taurus mars it gives him a gentle approach. He has this strong bull/ram influence from his aries sun and mars, his driving forces, that gives him initiative and a strong voice. when these 2 connect I feel like it makes a mom bear kind of thing. 

They also said it seems when he scans like that he is almost analyzing and observing, “gathering opinions”. Scorpio moons have hawk eyes, they’re always observing micro-actions and reactions. He is mostly observing with care so he can pay attention and accommodate! But I think having a scorpio moon just makes him naturally tune in to people a lot more and gives him a sharper eye. 

I wanted to put him and Jisung in the same post because they’re both scorpio moon kings, and I wanted to talk about how this really intense moon sign plays out in 2 very different people. I have a scorpio moon too, so seeing 2 idols I like with their own scorpios moons is very interesting to me! 

at one point the psychologists verbal report took a turn and all i could think about was that scorpio moon! After they finished telling him about his artists traits, they said “there is one thing you should look out for”, and it was that people like him tend to get lonely easily and often/a lot and Renjun quickly agreed! They said that since he’s with good friends a lot, it helps, but in the future he could get very lonely and experience it more than the average person. This is so textbook scorpio moon I honestly felt like he was speaking right to me and my scorpio moon for a second. From one scorpio moon to another, I’m so glad he has people around him. 

then they asked him when he typically gets lonely the most and he responded with “it just comes to be out of the blue” u poor scorpio moon bb😭. I don’t know how serious he was about this word but he said he will be depressed on the nicest days sometimes. 

there was another story Mark was telling thin time about Renjun. They went out to a meal together on a beautiful day and Mark comments on how nice out it is and Renjun just responds with “I’m depressed”. There are so many traits of his scorpio moon coming through here. With the moon being in such an intense, deep and dark sign, it is in detriment here. It’s a really rough placement for your emotions. Water moons in general are known for being quite moody and sulky, sometimes it just comes out of nowhere and very randomly. There doesn’t always have to be a trigger. I feel like his pisces-scorpio are really like teaming up a lot when it comes to his expressions and emotions. 

In the last post I mentioned how I think Jeno and Mark are lucky to have fire moons because they could get really hard on themselves or down/depressed if they had earth or water moons. Renjun is a good example of what I meant. With his Taurus mars, earth signs are known for being down and hard on themselves a lot and I think the combination of a earth mars and scorpio moon is tough. taurus likes to be alone a lot too and I could see him maybe in the future develop a tendency to isolate when he’s having a scorpio moon moment and feels like the world is ending (again, being around people must be really helping him). I also see his aries sun maybe being another way to help express that scorpio moon. It might feel less like he has to keep all of these scorpio feelings to himself, it’s easier for him to let it out. It’s also worth noting that having a scorpio moon and taurus mars means they’re in opposition! Giving him even more depth and intensity. 

as for the hexaco chart, based off just his chart I don’t know if I would have guessed his openness was that high with his scorpio and taurus?? But other than that I think his hexaco is very spot on for him! His agreeableness is slightly below average👀 umm yes hi aries sun and fixed moon and mars. His extroversion is pretty much average but that average to me tells me someone is more on the extroverted side or maybe in the middle? Being in the middle would make sense to me because I think he definitely has potential to isolate. I’m curious to see what his houses are! I’ve seen a lot of talk that he’s a cancer rising and I buy it because it would put his sun in 10th, and moon in 5th but that’s a whole other topic...

That emotionality is wonderfully high. His openness and expression/ reactions are one of my favorite things about him. He’s truly a little aries hot head at times. I feel like aries in big 6 often gives this kind of ease with expression and straightforwardness like I was saying about mark. Similar to Chenle though, I think even though Renjun is open, he isn’t an open book and has his deep thoughts and secrets. I see his openness more in that he will always be there for people and listen/help peoples problems. He’s the kind of person to meet someone and if he can tell they’re struggling he’d offer his ear or shoulder even if they’re not close. He’s welcoming. 

tldr; has intense imagination and creative abilities, he is very welcoming, compassionate, attentive and caring. Mom vibes. He is very moody and gets down a lot, his friends and artistic expression are essential. He is very expressive, passionate and hot headed but has a lot of patience.

Jisung - “Shy Perfectionist” 

✨aquarius sun // scorpio moon // aquarius mercury // aquarius venus // aries mars✨

Jisungs section in this show was reallyyy short they didn’t say much and moved on kinda quick😅 I’ll be honest Jisung has always kinda confused me especially when I try to understand his chart and what i see in the videos. So not getting a lot of information from this episode either (yet! the show is ongoing) is tough

As far as the title they gave him🥺chart or no chart I think it’s a good title for him and how he appears in content and stuff he is true baby. In their verbal report they basically just said he’s shy and then talked a lot about how he has very good “follower” qualities. They were saying having a good follower is also a really important quality in a group though. And jisung agreed with what they were saying. That’s pretty much all we got from them😅

Honestly if I could only have one members guaranteed full chart I’d want it to be Jaemins or Jisungs because Jisung has an aquarius stellium! And the house it’s in could tell us so much more about him. Typically when I think of or meet aquarius I don’t pin them as a shy type? I could see some of them preferring to stick to themselves but they still operate pretty well in social situations. So Jisung’s painfully shy personality we see is interesting to me. Where I definitely do see his aqua and scorpio working together is in how anxious and nervous he is. He’s a worrier too and has admitted it. Also I’ve heard the combination of aquarius and scorpio makes someone intensely intuitive to future events, so I feel like if jisung is unaware of this gift it could contribute to his high anxiety. Maybe he gets feelings of “something bad is about to happen” a lot for seemingly no reason👀

Another very aquarius trait is of course they’re weirdooos through and through! And what I’ve noticed about the aquarius weird trait is how many different kinds of weird there are because aquarians are always weird in such different ways. I definitely think Jisung is a weird guy, or quirky? You can almost see the gears grinding in his head when he’s contemplating and then he’ll do something “weird” after that! Weird, or just off beat. And what I love about the way jisungs lil aquarius mind works is you can tell those weird moments are purely just how he really is and thinks, and it’s not to be funny or for the cameras, he just processes information and thinks completely different from everyone else. 

Since we know jisung is shy I feel like a lot of his aquarius and scorpio mood comes out off camera so we won’t get to see that side! But I’m sure it’s there.

I think Jisung’s scorpio moon is a good example of how different it can be. To go from a very emotionally charged chart to one that is being dominated by air is quite different. With Renjun, I was talking about how his water and fire give him the ability to be in touch with and express his scorpio moon more. But with an air dominant chart I feel like hinders that ability and creates a more detached person. Not that he’s cold, not emotional, or not compassionate. But just that he probably prefers to “just not think” about certain stressful or emotional topics. But the problem with that is it doesn’t mean emotions are gone and scorpio is very hard to ignore, so he’s probably internalizing a lot of stuff v deeply or is surprised when emotions come, what feels like, out of nowhere,.. Jisung also has an aries mars though! I feel like the openness of the aries mars combining with the detachment of Aquarius sun could also contribute to sudden releases of emotion🤔 but be back to normal in minutes

I also wanna add that I feel like jisungs very follower personality and ability to just kinda let things happen or not take charge must be a result of the industry and being the maknae tbh, or it at least accentuated it 

For the hexaco chart I really want to comment on how high the honesty-humility is! In the first part I mentioned how aquarius and aries can be quite righteous signs. So this trait must be really played up in his chart because it seems he cares a lot about following the rules (could also be a result of industry). His emotionality is higher than average! For his chart I don’t know if I would have expected that but from watching him I think it totally lines up, maybe his aries mars is proving more of an outlet. 

I also wanna finish by adding that jisung is still super young and has been in this “baby” position for most of his life, and is literally the youngest out of a 23 person group lol and grew up in the industry so there’s more going on with that than just astrology <3

tldr; very shy, anxious and nervous, intuitive, an oddball, his community is important and helpful to him, easily reactive, but not very emotionally expressive, he’s level-headed, has a lot of growing to do🥺<3

part 3 coming soon!

feedback and thoughts are always welcome!

[ingravinoveritas]

Malcolm is autistic coded too but y'all just love to jump on the chance to call him an abuser for some reason despite your reblog making no sense to any situation that was mentioned when it's Edrisa harassing and pursuing a very clearly uncomfortable Malcolm which is triggering to anyone whose ever been creepily stalked or pursued but okay

Whoa, whoa...let’s hold on a minute here and slow down, Anon. I have never once, not anywhere on my blog--and definitely not in the post you are talking about--called Malcolm an “abuser.” That is categorically false, especially since after the paragraphs detailing the experience in my own life, I specifically said, “I do not think Malcolm is like that guy. I do not think he has any malicious intention whatsoever.” So, no, I am not calling Malcolm an abuser, but I am pointing out actions of his that have created problems (mainly via a lack of communication with Edrisa).

Also, I think it’s important to mention that in no way whatsoever does being autistic preclude someone from engaging in harassment or abuse. You want to talk triggers, Anon? I’ve been stalked multiple times in my life, but because of my disability and a lack of understanding and awareness as to what stalking is, I didn’t even know that was what it was the first time it happened to me. I was a senior in college--21, 22 years old--and I attended an autism conference in New England (where he lived, several states away from me). This autistic man--who was 15 years older than I was--saw me at the conference and became obsessed with me. After graduating college, I moved to the West Coast (not because of him, though), and he still stalked me during the two years I lived away. He went so far as to drive from his state to the state where I went to college--at least a four-hour drive--to my friend’s place of work all because he wanted to ask her about me. (I was mortified more than anything else and afraid she would think I had told him where she worked, which I absolutely didn’t.)

When I moved back East to start graduate school, he was still pursuing me and insisted on meeting in person. I was so used to being accommodating and putting others’ needs far ahead of my own, and that combined with not having a lot of self-confidence at that point or sense of self-awareness meant I didn’t put my foot down and say no, this isn’t happening. I felt bad because he was on the spectrum, and I forgave and excused things I absolutely shouldn’t have. So we did finally meet (I brought along a male friend, so I wouldn’t be alone), and it was about as awkward and uncomfortable as you would expect, though mercifully it didn’t last long.

More recently, I’ve been stalked and harassed in person and online by men on the spectrum who have come to the support group meeting I co-facilitate. This was happening right before the pandemic hit last year, and the president of the autism organization declined my request for the one guy in particular to be banned from the group. This guy and his little circle of misogynistic, incel reprobates tried to get nude pictures of me online as well, to “humiliate” me (they were not successful, as there are none, and also HELLO I TALK ABOUT SEX AND MY SEX LIFE FOR A LIVING, YOU PEA-BRAINED TROGLODYTES). All of this is to say that people on the spectrum are as capable of abuse and harassment as anyone else (though autistic people are overwhelmingly more likely to be the victims of abuse, rather than the perpetrators).

But whether Malcolm or Edrisa (or both) are neurodivergent, the problem here is twofold: 1) A lack of communication. Edrisa wants to create a connection with him but doesn’t know how, so tries to compensate with these seemingly creepy gestures, and Malcolm is not explicitly conveying his lack of interest, which continues to give her false hope. And 2) The writers repeatedly making Edrisa and her feelings for Malcolm into a joke. The only way Malcolm is going to take her seriously is if the writers take her seriously, which has sadly yet to happen. The writers seem to have difficulty with acknowledging her feelings and Malcolm’s feelings as legitimate, so what he does comes at the expense of Edrisa’s character, and what she does comes at the expense of Malcolm’s, and it’s uncomfortable for the viewer to see all around.

Both Malcolm and Edrisa deserve better than to be put into these awkward interactions for no reason, and that is really all there is to it.

[bibbykins]

Heliophilic Rain and His Pluviophile (M)

Yikes, it’s been a hot minute. That’s my bad. I have been having it a little rough with my job and so I’m in the process of finding another one and that among a billion other things is slowing me down. Which makes me wonder if I were to open commissions if anyone would be interested? I also would like to add there is a scene that could be triggering so proceed with caution, please. Either way, thank you for your patience as always, and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: (Soft) Yandere! Yoongi x Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: possessiveness, yandere tendencies, anxiety, unspoken threat of sexual assault, slight violence, oral, penetrative sex, cock warming, toxic relationship (he's yandere ya kno)

Summary: He was the rain just as you were the sun, both too transfixed with watching each other to get any closer. Few things feel more refreshing than drops of fresh rain on heated skin or the warmth of the sun on a gloomy day. It would be a shame to not indulge in the natural wonders of the world before you.

“Her voice was like the wind. I could listen until it was all that filled me. I could listen until she swept me away into the vast ocean of her presence. I would drown if it meant I would drift back to her. Her voice was like the wind. No matter how much I tried to catch it, I would get carried away. Suddenly, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Suddenly, home was wherever she said it was, so long as she did so with that voice of hers.”

“His voice was like the tap of rain against a window. He was asking me to go out to see him, but there was something beautiful about the way I knew he wasn’t referring to me specifically. I was a mere onlooker to his presence. Even so, I would catch a cold if it meant I could reach him, even for a moment. I thought this, knowing I would never have the guts to go outside. I made peace with this until the taps on my window turned into knocks on my door.”

——-

The office had an industrial-chic style about it, filled with neutral tones and the clanging of chains for no other purpose except fashion donned upon its employees. The color palette was gloomy and soothing, just how Yoongi liked it, an aesthetic that his employees gleefully shared with him as well. Each morning, Yoongi would look out his office and admire his growing business, eyes never lingering on one place too long, he loved all of the office equally. This much rang true until he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your form.

“She’s like a breath of fresh air, isn’t she?” Hoseok placed his hand on Yoongi’s soldier as he watched you through the glass doors of the conference room you were currently introducing yourself in, “Don’t be too hard on her, she’s competent and hardworking, okay?” 

Yoongi could barely hear his friend as he lost himself in the way your eyes crinkled from a genuine smile adorning your face. You were his new host to one of the podcasts his company picked up. From the merger with Hoseok’s company full of his college friends, Yoongi went from popular podcast host and semi-popular producer to a CEO of Min Productions, famous music artists in production and performance,  who oversaw the production of music and several podcasts on several topics, and you were what he had initially dreaded.

From the merger, came money, but what also came with it was Namjoon, the PR head of the company Hoseok was a part of, being able to choose one of every five talents for Yoongi to build up, hopefully into fame. Yoongi had just reached his fifth host, the podcasts he chose mostly consisting of music commentary or general life talks from people with aesthetics aligned with his own. However, from the sea of neutral colors and low voices partaking in casual conversation came you.

You were a perky college senior with some light in your eyes still. You were a rare find and had no set style ranging anywhere from pastels to the grunge he was used to seeing, but what never changed was your smile. Your teeth made an appearance at least 10 times a day, judging by the third smile you had just flashed the crew in a two-minute time frame.

Your podcast, however, oddly betrayed your attitude. You ran a sex and lifestyle podcast where you asked questions most people were too shy to throw out into the world pertaining to the unspoken social rules of casual dating and sex. It was interesting, yes, but it didn’t align with the brand Yoongi had been building judging by the synopsis. 

The fuss he made to Namjoon ended as soon as he sat down and listened to a podcast of yours. 

—–

“I have a formal complaint I would like to file!” You proclaimed as Yoongi found himself listening to your most recent podcast, “Why the fuck can’t I get a sugar daddy my age? It’s almost like… like my age demographic consists mostly of broke-ass college kids living with their parents, in a dorm, or like ya girl, an overpriced apartment and not rich as fuck for no reason. Fucking whack, I’ll say it.” He unwittingly cracked a smile at your charm and sarcasm, “I spent one day on sugarbaby.com and had to watch vanilla straight porn at the number of wrinkly dicks I saw instead of profile pictures. That’s like the most boring porn. So here comes a Patreon plug for the brainwashing I will conduct on myself in case I saw anyone’s grandfather’s penis.” You had an unabashed charm about you that urged him to listen more, maybe just one more episode.

Yoongi found himself listening to your entire discography, even the less promoted music you released once every blue moon, which wasn’t half-bad. However, he couldn’t find a picture of you, most likely because you posted under the alias Sugar Sun. The only pictures of yourself being from behind.

“On this episode of men are trash: men are fucking trash. Hello all, Sugar Sun here, and let’s talk about my day,” Yoongi could feel his intrigue grow, as you kept releasing, your delivery became less forced and more natural, “I don’t talk much in class, believe it or not. I’m a stuttering mess and like two people know my name at my big ass university, so when I do talk and my shit hole of a lab partner yells at me in the middle of a presentation to speak up, I cry, in front of the class. But do I stop the presentation? No, I’m fucking frozen with fear, so I just continue with my tears and the presentation. Bitch, what the fuck I looked like a middle school drama kid doing a monologue in front of her math class for no fucking reason.” You took a deep breath, “In conclusion, I’m sensitive and men are trash. Now, to the podcast.”

You had gained more traction with your commentary on romantic life and general comedy, catching Namjoon’s attention, “Hello again, double S here, with a special announcement. I got like, an actual company to sign me! Wild, I know! I’ll get paid and have meet-ups and stuff, which means you lovely listeners will get to soak in my face and talk to me in person and really experience why the only orgasms I’ve had are self-made!”

—–

“Yoongi!” Hoseok tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance you put him in.

“Sorry, she’s just-”

“Be nice,” Hoseok warned.

“Like sunshine.” Yoongi could feel the air enter his lungs as you sat down with a smile, “Like, what the fuck, Hobi?” 

His friend blinked, “Woah, shit, what?” He stifled a laugh, “You know, there isn’t a no-dating policy, right?”

“I’m well aware.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “But there will be if anyone tries anything.” He spoke nonchalantly and Hoseok choked on air at his friend’s obliviousness while the glass doors of the conference rooms were opened, you pouring out from it, waltzing to Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Hello, Mr. Min and Ho-Mr. Jung, I’m Y/n, or Sugar Sun, thank you for this amazing opportunity.” You bowed as Hoseok shook off his bewilderment for just a moment to give you a small bow with Yoongi.

“I look forward to spending more time with you.” Yoongi spoke in his regular gruff voice, the same one that proclaimed to have your hand in marriage just moments before, “I find you’ll be a breath of fresh air to the company.”

“I also look forward to seeing how your podcasts go, you have a photoshoot in a couple weeks, right?” Hoseok smiled warmly at you as you beamed back to him. Yoongi swore the whole exchange was blinding.

“I do! I’m a little nervous, since it’ll be my big face reveal, and I don’t know how well I model.” You giggled and Yoongi found his new favorite song the moment you did.

Yoongi had a tendency to do this, whether or not he wanted to. He was a passionate man. He craved love and could see it coming from a mile away. Despite being one of the seven main heartthrobs of his college campus, he almost exclusively stuck to serious relationships, and he meant it when he said serious. Yoongi was a little, to put it lightly, obsessive. He was a jealous boyfriend, but he did his best to try not to be too overbearing. He was also excessively protective, and the women he dated were grungy free spirits who enjoyed the chase when all Yoongi wanted was to catch them then hold them for the rest of his life. Despite being blinded by his own passion, he could still see when it wasn’t going to last, having accepted to never find a girl to accommodate and sedate him when needed. However, when you looked his way, or he heard your voice, it was something more than a need being filled.

You felt your heart leap out of his chest, trying not to fall into Yoongi’s hands when you first saw him, and here he was, nonchalantly giving you an inkling of a smile. Maybe it was the lack of a solid fuck or a relationship, but you were definitely breaking some HR rules in your mind.

Suddenly, you became aware of the content you dished out. You talked about your sex life often, and he knows you’re inexperienced and terribly horny. You internally punched yourself in the face. He probably thinks you’re so weird. Yet, here you were, a huge fan of Agust D and now Min Yoongi was staring at you.

Yoongi smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ve had my experience with a face reveal or two.”

You returned his smile, remembering the day Agust D revealed his face. The whole world stopped, and you only fell deeper when you looked at his eyes, “I-I remember, I’m a fan.” You looked down shyly before facing him again.

“Funny, I am a fan of yours.” He spoke lowly as Hoseok had long walked away unnoticed.

You giggled stupidly, “A fan?” Your sunny smile beamed at him. He had always preferred rainy days, but if this was what the sun looked like, he could get used to being a little warm here and there, “I can hardly believe it.”

“I’m gone a lot and yet, your voice has a certain factor to it that draws people in. ” He mused as his eyes trapped you, “I wonder where you’ve been all my life.”

Just like that, the bubble popped. The chimes came to a screeching halt. The rose-tinted glasses were abruptly ripped off of your face. The magic cleared, and you were left with the realization that while you had damn near counted every interaction, no matter how minuscule, and he hadn’t cared to remember you until now.

“Here’s my personal cell,” He hands you a pristine card with silver numbers, “Call me if you need anything, and I mean it.” You take the card with a quaint smile that deflates

He’s never noticed you until now, of course. The answer to his thoughts was that you’ve been right here.

Before Yoongi could register the chill in the air without your smile, Hoseok came back, “Hey Yoongs, let’s go, we got a flight in a few hours.“ 

“Right.” Yoongi breaks eye contact with you.

“Have a good flight!” You smile, not as wide as before, and Yoongi sees it.

“See you Tuesday, y/n!” Hoseok waves.

“Don’t be late!” You giggle and as soon as they both are out of earshot, Yoongi grills him.

“You know her?!” Yoongi snaps as he enters the town car.

Hoseok blinks at him, confused, “Duh? I thought that was a given.” Upon seeing his friend’s puzzled face remain, Hoseok’s eyes went wide, “Holy shit, you don’t remember her?!”

The older male blinked in confusion, “I’ve never met her before?”

The younger businessman threw his head back as he placed his hands over his face in frustration, “She was in our forensics class and our history class last year’s fall semester and the year before!” He was exasperated, “Remember the super genius sophomore?”

Yoongi racked his brain. Last year? He had been dating some angsty theology major. How could he have let himself be blinded by a temporary fling when the love of his life was right there? He could kick himself at this moment. No wonder your smile faltered, you had remembered him, “Liar, you can’t be serious.”

“Dude, she tutors me to this day in history.” Hoseok deadpanned, “All she requires is I buy her meals that day.”

“How often do you guys have study dates?” Yoongi grits out as his friend snorts at the notion of it being a date.

“Your possessive is showing,” He snickered, “My girl is all I can see these days, no matter how cute y/n is.”

“I will end you if you touch her,” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, “Especially with the way you treat girls,” His face scrunches in disgust before he grumbled, “But how often?”

“Every other Tuesday.” Hoseok smirked, “And you mean used to treat girls.” 

Yoongi huffed in agreeance.

—-

“Hello, party people.” Your voice entered Yoongi’s headphones as he leaned back on his hotel bed, “Sugar Sun here, in my bedroom. We’re calm, we’re casual, it is a Friday night and this one goes out to my fellow homebodies.” You switched off to play a song. Part of the contract you signed was that you are allowed to go live whenever you liked to encourage and tend to fans. You explained it was almost a tradition for you to set aside a Friday night in once a month for your fans and Yoongi found in comforting as he lay alone. 

Your taste in music was so unbelievably cute, he couldn’t help but smile at the lo-fi song, “And we’re back, hello all here and all who are joining as I speak. Today I took a tour of the studio my actual podcasts will be recorded in and holy shit, they seem to actually take me seriously as a personality and even artist, so expect some tunes soon.” Yoongi smiled at this, you don’t even know your potential, “I’m looking at the chat now to see if there are any questions, and- oh, yes, I did meet my boss. Yes, the iconic Min Yoongi. He is as dreamy as they say, but I have actually met him before.” Yoongi sunk a little further in shame, “Did he remember me?” You read from the chat, “No, of course not. I’m a voice, but no one will know me if I don’t use it.” You sighed out and he felt his heart clench. He was such a fucking idiot. “Which I don’t much beyond this mic. Am I scared to say this now that he’s my boss?” He held his breath a bit, “No, I doubt he’s listening. He said he was my fan, but he could just have said that to be a nice guy.” You laughed, a hint of sadness evident, “What a fucking disaster I must seem like if he were to, huh?” The sadness in your voice more prominent, “If he is, hi Mr. Min, please erase this from your memory, as well as my sophomore haircut.” 

The live went on as normal and Yoongi drifted to sleep to the melodious sound of your voice for the remainder of the flight. However, even in his dreams, you were just out of reach, and he couldn’t begin to put into words how much it killed him.

—-

You don’t know how you got here. You looked around at the shabby setup. This "photography studio” looked a lot, and you mean a lot, like it was a half-assed school set not long ago. You scoffed, throwing your hands up incredulously when you caught sight of a black couch. You really hated your manager.

The jackass was assigned to you and you were too scared to say how uncomfortable he made you. He treated you like a child, but the way he looked at you was too adult for your taste. He was constantly texting you and asking for photos of your face, which you were constantly rejecting. To top it all off, he wants you to call him Big Brother, not Oppa, Big Brother. You opted for Big Bro instead, since he won’t give you his name. No, to top it all off, he booked your photo shoot with a “friend” of his to “save the company money”. He asked you to show up in a dress no longer than your knees and you felt dumber and dumber as time went on for doing so. 

You stood in the middle of this studio-warehouse apartment waiting for this great photographer to show up. As you stood here, your initial thought was “how fucking ridiculous is that” but the longer you were there and the more you studied the ropes that were no longer as well hid, something in your stomach began to turn.

You were in actual fucking danger. This situation could not be a funny story if you didn’t live to tell it. Your eyes darted from different red flags in the room. A spot of dried blood scratches on the cheap wallpaper, bare plaster marks against the beige wall, a poorly-concealed camera you hadn’t noticed until now. Your chest squeezed when your phone vibrated. 

You could get out of here! All you had to do was send an SOS.

Hoseok: Good luck in the photoshoot from my other half and I! 

You smiled lovingly at the snapchat from the male, the more permanent girl in his life with a smile on her face and an encouraging thumbs-up. They were evidently on a date, finally, so there was no way you could call them to come get you. You would hate to bother them.

Mr. Min: Let me know how the shoot goes. 

You faltered over the message. He was professional as ever. Would he think less of you if you abandoned a shoot like this?

Yoongi agonized over the three dots that stared him down. He had to remind himself to blink as he watched the minutes tick by that felt like hours. What the hell were you typing?

It had been about a couple of weeks since you’ve been under Yoongi’s company and all had been normal. Your routine was the same, and so was his. Except for this time, you two would exchange polite texts on what the other would do.

Sugar Sun: Great song as always!

You would always send exclamation points or some sparkle emojis, even a sun here and there. Yoongi found himself unable to shield his cheesy grin at the texts you sent him. You were always the first person to praise his new work. He found himself craving your praise more and more, but he forced himself to remain professional.

Mr. Min: Loved your live.

He always used punctuation despite using fragments which somehow added an aura of professionalism that he effortlessly radiated in person. Nevertheless, you would always send back a sparkly thank you which made Yoongi melt. He prided himself on not overstepping boundaries by attempting to control your professional life. His self-restraint proved quite strong as he held himself back from taking you out to lunch or giving you special treatment. This restraint was put to the ultimate test when he found out you were assigned Hyungin as your manager. He was an unfortunate employee with constant reports that would ultimately be rescinded by the female employees.

He was a disgusting piece of shit, Yoongi deduced. Hyungin was the brother of the management agency contracted by his company, per Namjoon’s damn insistence,  and he was itching for that contract to end, and soon. Yoongi had to physically hold himself back when he found this information out, trying to respect you by not meddling or keeping tabs on you.

His resolve was a very thin string that was tugged and tugged as the days went on with Hyungin having total control over your schedule and an excuse to contact you 24/7. You were a strong girl and had not made a report. He had to respect that. 

Your lip began to twitch, a movement you quickly halted as you shook the fear off. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were being stuck up. You weren’t like Yoongi, maybe you had to photoshoot in shabby places.

You: I’m kind of scared…

You shook your head, erasing the message and locking your phone. You huffed, it was 30 minutes past the scheduled time. Surely you had the right to leave? You heard the back door open and could feel the bile lurch in your throat.

Something was very wrong. You were not overreacting. There were several heavy footsteps and as they thudded through the warehouse, nearing your reaching form, you could not deny the quaking fear that traveled through your veins like electricity.

One? Two? No, four sets of steps. The uneven rhythm proved as much, too many for a measly photoshoot. Too many for you to take on all at once. The correct amount to hold you down. The correct amount to-

“Little sis, are you here?” A sickening voice called out and you realized the steps stopped with only his continuing. 

He was trying to surprise you. 

“Come on, dear, let’s get to know each other.” You could hear the predatory smirk on his face and you choked on a horrified breath as the fear pricked your skin and pierced your lungs.

You were choking on your own horror.

“Come out, come out,” He called and you were frozen, absolutely fucking frozen. 

Run.

You stood up, breaking into a sprint that was a hair too slow. You felt a calloused, obscenely rough handgrip your forearm with a vigorous force and you screamed. He was squeezing, and at this rate, your bones would surely snap, “Not so fast, little girl.” He stood next to you, breath pungent with halitosis. From peripheral vision, you could see his five o'clock shadow and you realized the size difference and the lack of camera. You couldn’t stop screaming, mimicking every cell in your body that seemed to yell,

RUN.

Just like lightning, you struck him with your head, harder than you knew you could stand. His nose gave you an all too satisfying crack and his grip loosened enough for you sprint again, this time more than quick enough to keep going. You heard the clamoring of footsteps and eventually, all you could hear was the sound of the wind as you turned corners you had no familiarity with, running until your legs could no longer carry you. 

Your legs finally shook you down to your knees in a part of town you barely recognized. You had passed through here once before as a freshman in college sight-seeing. It was a tourist spot and you exhaled on the sidewall as people stepped around you.

You heaved a breath that you swore you had been holding for hours with a small victorious smile. Your eyes scanned the area of regular people and your hands shaking brought attention to the purse you thankfully still had.

Without thought, you ripped it open, using your phone to call the first person you could.

“Y/n?” His voice was gruff, as if he was whispering whilst trying to talk normally, “Is everything okay?” He seemed confused, you had never called him before.

“Can you… uh…” You faltered after realizing the strangled sound you made, voice raw from the screams you let out, “…please come get me.” You nearly whispered.

“Send me your location, I’m on my way.” Yoongi didn’t miss a beat before adding, “Stay where you are, don’t go near anyone.” He ended the phone call and you followed his directions, dropping your pin. You sighed in relief as you took refuge on the sidewalk, draping the cardigan in your bag over your shoulder, securing it around yourself.

Yoongi shot up from his office chair, looking at his employees mid-powerpoint. His marketing team turned into ice at his gaze. His eyes were much darker than a moment ago, and his jaw was like stone, “I have an emergency to attend to, we will proceed at a later date.” The room nodded stiffly as their boss walked out, all of them unaware why, having been too scared to even try to listen to his phone call.

Never in Yoongi’s life had he sped so recklessly. You were 10 minutes away and something was wrong. Your voice had never sounded so vulnerable. He had never heard it that quiet before. You were in a plaza of popular building, and if you had a photo shoot today, this would not be near any studio at all. His blood boiled at the thought of anyone taking away your light.

He slammed on the brakes when he caught sight of your shrunken form on the sidewalk, your head jerked up at the sound as your entire body jumped. Why were you so scared? Your face had a small streak of makeup on the side of your face and his skin only flared as you scurried into the car and Yoongi began driving to a more familiar side of town.

“Please don’t take me home.” You pleaded, unable to face him due to the shame.

Yoongi chose not to prod, for the time being, only nodding in response as he drove. He could see you stare out the window at the passing building and he watched your shaking for curl into the car seat. He settled on this resolve of leaving you alone all the way up to the inside of his apartment until your lip quivered as you plopped down on the couch, eyes unwavering from its spot at your feet. Then, you began to cry. No, not cry, sob, sob your hardest and just like that, a single tear snapped the ever-thinning string of restraint he had left.

You were pulled into Yoongi’s chest as sobs racked through your body, you clutched his shirt as you soaked it with tears of fear, relief, joy, and you couldn’t stop. Hell, you could barely breathe. Even so, Yoongi held you as his expensive dress shirt crumbled under your grip and stained with your mascara and eyeliner proving not to be as water-resistant as you hoped. His grip was unwavering and when a hand went to stroke your hair, you could feel oxygen reach your lungs again. 

“It’s okay.” He breathed, “You’re safe now.” He fought the urge to clench his jaw again as you gripped his shirt harder.

Your breathing began to even as he whispered soft words into your ear until your eyes couldn’t cry anymore. The both of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, clinging onto one another as he felt the softness of your cardigan against his hands. You eventually broke the silence with a meek, “I’m so sorry." 

"Why is that?” He spoke softly, his last intent was to scare you.

“I ran away from the shoot, and I know it’s not professional but…” You shivered, “ He didn’t have a camera.” Yoongi could kill somebody, “He had three other guys with him.” Someone, no, all of them are going to have to pay, he concluded. Nobody involved would leave the ordeal with their lives intact. They would lose everything for trying to take his sunshine away, for making your light falter, for even a moment.

He ripped himself from you, to sternly meet your eyes, “Do not apologize for the swine you encountered.” Your eyes only reflected sorrow, “You’re alive, and that is what matters most, okay?” You nodded.

“You’re not mad at me?” Your voice cracked against your will as you looked up at Yoongi, eyes glassy and begging for reassurance.

He visibly softened, “No, Sunshine, I could never be mad at you.” You nodded in understanding, “But will you let me fix this for you?”

Maybe you should have known from the beginning. You looked at Yoongi, so eager to be your saving grace, eyes intense with intent, and yet his touch was so soft. A man in love was a dangerous man, you once read in a book. Yet, never in your life have you craved such a man before, and if Yoongi’s rage mixed with infatuation could measure close to love, you would take it. He was powerful, he was kind, and he was pleasing to the eye. He was offering you the world in that one question.

“Please.” You cast your pride aside, “They don’t deserve mercy.” An angry tear went down your cheek, “I’m so tired of trying to brave it, doubting myself, denying myself any chance of help.” You could feel the tear trickle with hot fury, “I’m so fucking sick of relying on myself.”

Yoongi was quick to catch the tear with the softest hand you’ve ever felt, “I’m here now.” He spoke with the utmost confidence.

Your relationship with Yoongi from that point for the next couple of months was interesting, to say the least. You had somehow moved in upon his request, him rationalizing it by saying they knew where you lived. Granted, he wasn’t wrong. Hyungin knew where you lived, but within two weeks he and the monsters you encountered were promptly locked in a very dangerous maximum-security prison. You decided not to dwell on how they took such a shitty deal with a well-deserved long sentence. 

Some things were above your pay grade, and you made peace with it.

Even so, he didn’t stop there. He could no longer stand on the sidelines anymore. That line blurred beyond recognition the moment he held you in his arms. He was essentially your new manager, stating he owed you at least that much after letting you fall into the hands of such a monster. Thankfully, the releasing of official statements and press conferences were received well. The victim-blaming for the nature of your podcast kept to an obsolete minimum. Your face still had not been released upon your request and you were able to move on, the media no longer covering the story as the sentencing was sealed.

The months passed in a flurry of Yoongi being awfully vague each time you asked about his personal life. He was constantly home outside of work, which you didn’t mind, but you didn’t want him to put his social life on your accord. You also had much less confidence in his infatuation for you then you did a couple months ago. Every time you tried to make a move, which meant a small brush of physical contact, he was not responding. The last time he gave you affection was the hug during your breakdown. The most you got out of him were a couple of head pats.

Like that did anything for you.

For crying out loud, you ran a sex and lifestyle podcast with no sex from the hot man you lived in the same home as.

Hell, the most emotion you see from him is the purest politeness you have ever encountered.

“Hello my listeners, welcome to the obligatory virginity talk.” Your voice was crisp in the mic as Yoongi laid in his bed, headphones in, listening to the newly released podcast. He was still a loyal listener, despite you living in his guest bedroom. He still could not get enough of your voice. If anything, he craved you more and desperately held himself back. He loved having you with him, but never did he think he would have to turn to rubbing one out during your more racy episodes or when he heard you pleasuring yourself in the dead of night. 

Not even his thoughts could satiate him with you right there, and yet, out of reach.

“It has come to my attention that many of you think I’m a virgin, not that it’s an insult..” He could hear the smile in your voice, “Alas, I am not, but that doesn’t change my hand being the most impressive thing my pussy has seen, I’ll tell you what.” You giggled at this, “No, I take that back, my magic wand is my BFF.” Yoongi shifted, wondering if you had your toys in your room. He had sent for all of your things after all. God, he could already feel his dick hardening. How pathetic you make him at the very thought of you fucking yourself silly, eyes rolled back, vibrator against your clit. He huffed, shaking away the thoughts, “ Anyhow, let’s talk trends I am late to, rare, I know, but what’s this whole spelling coconut with your hips riding someone business?” You pondered, “I haven’t ridden someone in a good while, and my dildo can’t tell me if it feels good, so I’m at a loss here.” You sighed almost longingly, “God, I miss getting fucked, but also romanced,” You groaned, “It’s been a rough as fuck dry couple of months, which didn’t bother me for a while considering… you know, but the world keeps turning and I stay alone but moving on…” You droned and Yoongi went into overdrive.

Did you seriously want to fuck someone? Like someone else? You were living with him now, why would you feel the need to have relations with anyone else? His fists clenched at the very concept. You couldn’t be talking for show, you were say too genuine. Before he could even stop himself, he marched over to his bedroom door, ripping it open.

Only when he did had did he realize that you were in front of him, hand raised to knock on the door, “Oh, hey.” You gave him a smile as you slowly retreated your raised arm, “I was just gonna see if you wanted to watch a movie with me?” Every so often you both would have a movie night in which you would try to understand his feelings with small touches and ultimately fail. Nevertheless, you enjoyed his company. Today, you were buying into an article’s advice and watching a scary one. Not that you were terrified, but you were a jumpy person. 

At this rate, you couldn’t tell if you were horny or just wanted affection.

Both, probably.

Your crush on Yoongi had only worsened throughout this whole experience to top it off. He was hot and kind who could blame you? And yet, he never made a single move as if he had no interest. God, what if he didn’t have any interest?

Your heart sank for a moment, “If not, I think I was gonna try to go out-”

“No!” Your eyes widened at Yoongi’s panicked tone when he cleared his throat, “I mean, I want to watch a movie, so you don’t have to go out.” He muttered and you nodded slowly. He could not have you going out, not after what he heard. You were craving other people. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“O…kay…” You smiled a bit, “Well, I picked a scary one if you think you can hang.” You gave him a sly smile before going to make popcorn. 

He smiled as he watched you prance to the kitchen. You were so beautiful and fun and everything he’s ever needed. All that was left was for you to be his, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He had to be a gentleman. He had to wait for the right time. That’s what Jin, Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung said. The only issue was that he had no idea what the hell that meant.

“You know, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi.” He was quick as ever to correct you, “Please.” He sounded more desperate than usual and you nodded.

“Right, well I was just going to say that you have absurd taste in snacks.” You said with a chuckle, “All I ever see in you cupboards are coffee.” You wistfully sigh, “I need to go grocery shopping.”

The sound of you being so domestic-made Yoongi break into an ill-concealed smile as he settled onto the sofa, setting the oddly scary movie you chose up, “I can take you on Saturday.” You nodded when you finally found a bag of chips and sat next to the man of your affection with a cushion between the two of you.

You really couldn’t say what the movie was about, you had only seen it between the gaps in your fingers all while Yoongi watched it with a straight face. When it ended he said a short goodnight as always, except something in you, lurched out. 

“Actually, I think I may go out after all.” You swore you followed your mouth’s lead as opposed to the opposite. You just said shit and had to go along with it. Fuck, you didn’t want to go out. You wanted to stay home and be scared that there was a ghost in the closet, but now you had to get ready and shit.

“Why?” Yoongi stopped, hand gripping his door handle much harder than usual. 

You were taken aback by the question. It was valid, you supposed. But was it? How do you even answer that question? “Well, it’s been a while since I've… ya know…” You clicked your tongue, suddenly too shy to say,

“Had sex?” It was so blunt, and his eyes pierced through you and yet, you could feel your core tingle.

You were nothing but a sputtering mess, “W-W, I-I, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi, y/n.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he stalked over to you. Despite the unconscious steps back you were taking, the couch brought you to an abrupt stop.

“R-Right, anyways, I-” You shut your mouth when Yoongi hovered over you with his presence alone.

“Say it,” He glared daggers into your form, “Say my name.” Before you could even open your mouth Yoongi groaned, slamming his hands on the couch on either side of you in frustration, “God, why do you want other people when I’m right fucking here?” Your mouth was agape at this, “I’m so sick of holding myself back.” He cursed, body pressing against yours.

“What do you mean? Other people?” You mustered and Yoongi let out a chuckle void of humor.

“I listened to your podcast about wanting to be with someone and getting romance and…” Yoongi seriously thought you had been referring to anyone but him? Him? Seriously? The hot man in the place you live? You couldn’t stifle your laugh which caused his rant to falter, “How is this a laughing matter I am-”

“So fucking dense.” You giggled, “I’ve wanted you to at least look my way for the past three years, and you seriously think I want to be with other people?!” You sighed, “I live with you for fuck’s sake, and you won’t touch me!” Now, you were letting your frustrations out, “I brush your hand, I touch thighs with you, I-I  scare the shit out of myself hoping you’ll at least hold me!” You heaved a breath, “And all you do is stay still!” You let out a frustrated yell, “The most attention I got from you was when I was almost attacked, is that what I need to do to draw sap from a fucking rock?!”

Yoongi flared at this, “Don’t ever think about putting yourself in danger.” He pointed at you, “I couldn’t take it, and I can’t take you not being honest with me, I thought you never noticed-” He was being a hypocrite, but he didn’t care.

“How could you say I don’t notice you when you straight up forgot I existed until this year?!” Yoongi was the one dumbfounded this time, and you took your chance to push past him, “I will go out tonight because I deserve-”

You couldn’t even breathe the next syllable before your back hit Yoongi’s bedroom door, his hands pinning your wrists above your own, the man breathing heavy. The air was thick with frustration as he gave you a stern look, “You deserve the world, I know,” The anger in you began to dissipate at his sincerity in his words, “And I am so in love with you, that I don’t think I’m worthy of giving it to you,” Your breath hitched at this, “But I don’t care anymore, because I would sooner kill someone before they put their hands on you, I’m sure you know I mean business, Sunshine?” You nodded, every cell in your body springing to life as Yoongi drew his lips closer to you, “So?”

You blew out a shaky breath with an equally shaky smile, “L-Love me? I-" 

"Say you love me, and I’ll do it.” He was more rushed this time, urgent almost, “I’ll stop holding back, and I will give you all that you deserve and so, so much more.” He was almost pleading.

What the fuck do you know about love? What does it look like? Sound like? Is it the way Yoongi smiles at your dumb jokes in the morning? Is it the way his voice sounds through the walls as he practices newly-written lyrics? He was a good man to you. He was an attractive man. He could give you the world, and all he wanted in return was your love. Could all of this be love? Could it be the way he’s made you feel the past couple of years, especially the last couple of months? 

Well, why the hell wouldn’t it be?

“I love you, Yoongi.” You breathed against his lips and he didn’t miss a beat in closing the gap so not even air could come between the two of you.

Electrifying all over again, but so, so different. This wasn’t fear. This was lust lighting a fire within you that Yoongi only stoked further as his silky tongue tangled with yours in a flurry of repressed emotions and endless unspoken confessions. His mouth attached to your neck and you let out a moan, quickly going to cover your mouth. 

He ripped your hand away almost instantly, “You’re rarely this shy when you’re in your room, why deny me your sounds now?” He growled against your ear and the pure sex in his voice only made you moan louder. He was the rain you had admired from afar, but now he was pressed against you, and holy shit, were you getting wet.

“Yoongi, I don’t know if I can wait, I want to cum so fucking ba-ah!” You yelped when his hand went to cup your sex under the long shirt you always wore. You were on your tippy-toes, too sensitive to press your full weight onto him.

“Such an innocent-looking girl with such a nasty mouth.” He squeezed you in his hand and watched in glory as your eyes rolled back, “Since you’re a fan, I’ll be nice.” He teased as he got onto his knees, dragging your panties down with him to the floor.

“Oh shit.” You let out a breath that was quickly stolen when his tongue pressed against your entry. He lifted your leg, placing it over his shoulder as his mouth lapped at your clit and you lost yourself in the feeling, moaning mindlessly.

“You taste like deliverance.” He mumbled against your pussy and this only made your eyes roll back at the eroticism in his words. You couldn’t even keep track of what he was doing anymore.

All you could do was feel. His tongue fucked you into oblivion as he held your hips still, determined to make you come with his mouth, and his mouth alone. He let out a lewd suck and you quivered at the sensation and action. He knew how to play you and please you that you did. His tongue entered you again and he let out a delicious moan which vibrated against your folds, “Fuck, you sound and feel so fucking good!” You cried out as his tongue made thick strokes against you that only sped up expertly as he moaned into you, “Can I cum, Yoongi?” You asked, a smart girl, he concluded. He smirked against you, full intention to deny your request until, “Please, my love, I want to cum in your mouth like a good girl.” You begged pathetically and he couldn’t refuse you. You had him wrapped around your finger and hardly knew it. He got to work quickly, tongue entering you again only to flick upwards and you groaned at this. Groans were quickly replaced by increased screaming as he stiffened his tongue and licked all around your sex. You began to scream his name like a mantra as you tighten around the muscle and came the hardest you ever had.

You slumped against the door, chest heaving, “You okay, baby?” The nickname from him elicited a tired smile. You looked down at the man, lips glossy as he licked them. He sat back on his calves and you wasted no time in diving at him on the floor.

Before he could react, you gripped him through his sweatpants and smiled when you realized he was rock hard, “Can I please ride you?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes and he knew he couldn’t possibly say no.

“Your wish is my command, sunshine.” He growled when you straddle him as he sat, legs spread and back against the back of the couch now. You gave a less than innocent smile as you reached for his member, delicate hands wrapping around him, only to pull it free and closer to your entrance, “Condom?” He questioned.

“Pill, I need to feel you, fuck.” You panted, against logical judgment, but it was lost when you pressed the head against your own entrance, “Shit.” You ground against Yoongi as his head lolled back.

He could hardly handle it as your hips twirled, the tip just outside your entrance. Finally, he had enough, and with strong hands pulled your hips to fill you to the hilt. Your mouth popped open in shock and pure masochistic delight as the pain only added to the high of lust Yoongi gave you, “Sorry, baby girl, I knew you would feel so fucking good.” He emphasized this with a thrust up, “Plus, I could hardly resist being deep inside you immediately.” He growled in sadistic pride as your face twisted in pain and pleasure.

“Hurts so good.” Your hips moved spastically, chasing another high with Yoongi deep inside you. Not once did you lift your hips. You wanted to stay full, and Yoongi was more than happy to oblige, “So good, I wanna stay like this.” You moaned out as he sucked on your neck, hands going under your shirt to grip your breasts with a fevor you craved.

“You feel like heaven.” He grunted against your neck as he littered it with hickey after hickey. You were his and the way you squeezed around him and clawed at his shoulder only spurred him further. 

Yoongi could feel himself twitching inside you and this only made you gasp as you gleefully squeezed around him, “Yes, yes,” You sounded like a prayer to him, “Cum inside me, I need it.” You were nearly screaming as he began to thrust into you at a rapid pace.

“Yeah? You want me to paint those pretty walls white, hm?” He teased you despite the strain in his voice, “Fuck it right into that pretty pussy of yours, no mine.” He grabbed your hips, working your body for his own high, “This is my pussy, isn’t it?" 

"Yes, it’s all yours, Yoongi!” You yelled and with that, he groaned as he came, ropes of cum that you could feel as his hips made good of his promise to fuck it into you. You milked him as you squeezed tighter before coming undone as you came with a scream that sounded like the next symphonic masterpiece to the fucked out man inside you.

You huffed a small chuckle against his neck as your curled your form around his, “So needy.” He teased as he went to remove himself inside of you only to be met with a squeeze from you that made him curse, “You’re gonna kill me, I swear.”

You giggled, “I like how you feel inside of me.” You shrugged before shivering at the empty feeling only to gasp when three fingers were shoved into you. You wiggled in glee, “Fuck.” Your breath hot against his neck.

 "You just like to be full, huh baby?“ You nodded shyly, "You’re perfect.” He chuckled as he used his other hand to stroke your back.

—-

“Announcement time, my dear listeners” You spoke in the studio, trying not to sound like it was through gritted teeth. You counted your blessings that you were alone, “As you know, your dear old Sugar Sun has promised a face reveal and I-Min Yoongi!” Well, mostly alone. You heaved a breath as you came against his mouth for the third time.

The man between your legs looked up at you, eyes way too innocent, “What? I’m waiting for my part.” He spoke nonchalantly despite the wetness on his lips.

“I’ll never get there if you keep making me cum and start over.” You glared and the man shrugged, “I got far enough, right, babe?” You pouted and watched his resolve crack, “Honeypie?” You pleaded and he faltered, “Love of my life?” He grumbled as he sat up next to you in front of the mic.

“Fine, go ahead.” He licked his lips.

“…and I decided to go a step further.” You smiled as the man next to you held your hand, “I will be doing a photoshoot to reveal my face and my collab partner to an upcoming song and my boyfriend…”

You looked to him, eyes twinkling, “That would be my cue.” He placed a quiet kiss on your head, “My name is Min Yoongi or Agust D as some of you may know, and I look forward to my career and life with this little piece of sunshine.” You giggled at this.

“So cheesy.” You gave him a bright smile nonetheless, “Crazy news, I know, but I secured the fucking bag, my dear listeners, he’s never getting rid of me." 

You were joking for the most part, but you didn’t know how right you were. You would not be away from him any longer. You were his sunshine, his little songbird, and his world all at the same time. He needed you like he needed to breathe. Now, you were his. You were his sunshine despite the rain he embodied. The rainbow between the two of you was too intoxicating to even bear the idea of giving it up. Even for a fraction of second. You were his. Every moment, minute, second, everything would be together. He was yours now and forever just as you were his. Blissfully and eternally in love.

"I’m too crazy to let go now.” You laughed as he kissed your temple affectionately.

So was he.

Buy me a ko-fi (it would make my day) 

Masterlist

[mrs-dragneel-stark-solo]

Unforseen Chasm (part 26)

Part 26 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 3140 Warnings: Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93 what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The following morning you couldn’t wait to talk to Shannon so you opened up the tablet, clicked the video chat app, and chose your only contact. For some people, one contact might seem lonely, but for you, that one contact was all you needed. 

She accepted the call and her stunning face lit up the window as you pulled your coffee close to your lips. 

“Morning, Y/N,” she greeted, pouring her own coffee, a tired look on her face. 

“Morning, hun.” You waved to her. “Any big plans for the day?” you wondered. 

“Kinda,” she answered after swallowing some coffee. 

You perked an eyebrow up. “Oh? I’m intrigued. What’s on the agenda?”

“Hoping to finish creating that surprise for you two,” she informed. 

You frowned at her, confused. “I thought the tablet was my surprise?” 

She smiled widely and giggled. “Nope, that’s for us to chat. But there’s this research I’ve been doing for a few months now but still no result. I feel like I’m missing something.” 

“What research?” you blurted out, not able to resist asking. 

“It’s got to do with the genetic mutation in identical twins,” she informed. “Here. If you go to your office, you can project my notes and data from the camera that’s set up there. Just double tap the screen when you get there.”

You nodded and took your coffee and tablet to the office in the adjoining room, while she sent the files down to your cell. 

“Everything is there. I’m just having trouble identifying how it is that one of the two ends up with a mutation while the other doesn’t,” she commented, sounding frustrated. 

“Have you listened to Bach?” you asked, knowing that every time she listened to him, it jogged her mind. 

She stared at you through the tablet and deadpanned, “What do you think?” 

You laughed and held your hands up “Okay, okay. Fraternal or maternal twins? Raised in the same environment? What are Tony’s thoughts? Banner’s? They have a lot of experience with mutation… Did you call Charles?”

“Depends on the case. I have a few sets that are paternal and some there is a turn off, but they have the opposite effect with the mutations from each side. Tony doesn’t know. He is not really aware of what happened. Banner… he can help with just a small amount. The thing with the experience on mutation is that you know Bruce and becoming the Hulk but there’s not much you can get out of it because even his own studies have led to very little.” She began to read in her ledgers. “Speaking of, I’m actually I’m going to contact Charles later today. Hopefully he’s not that busy, and neither is Logan, and they can probably run some tests, figure out some stuff. Probably hit the ring to see what triggers some of my powers.”

Your face fell a little bit, remembering how you used to visit Charles with her. It made you miss him and all of the X-Men… “Oh, are your powers… bad? I mean.. Like, you haven’t consulted Charles in a long time,” you noted. 

She glanced over to the screen, noticing the change in your tone. 

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. It’s not really any of my business if you powers aren’t going quite right,” you stated, laughing somewhat nervously, a pang of guilt hitting your gut. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s not that they’re bad. It’s just… they’re changing. I used to take people’s powers temporarily, but now, I can store them. And the shapeshifting and the flying. I’m rapidly mutating and I’m not sure what’s causing it…”

You nodded, listening to her, worried for her, and angry that you were locked in a cell with no way to help her. 

“Y/N… do you remember that one kid at the mansion who would feed off people's emotions and it became what he felt?” she asked, looking at you, hoping you remembered. 

Sadly, you didn’t, so you shook your head. “No, who was that?” 

“I can’t remember his name, but he had bumped into me one of those few times I went to train. And it seems I absorbed some of his powers and that what might be messing me up. It used to be very subtle, but now… now I can hardly get through an emotional event without it draining on me. Like when Steve had to carry me out,” she reminded. 

“You think it’s damaging you,” you said, summarizing for her. 

“I think it is,” she agreed. “If it’s emotionally strong, positive or negative, I just… The fight I had with Tony?”

“Yeah?” 

“I was so mad at what he was saying I hadn’t realized my weather powers had triggered and mixed with the laser beams I took from Cyclops and it mixed with your purple energy and things were thrown at Tony when I yelled at him. Thankfully one of his suits was there or I might have hurt him.”

You muttered, “I know what that’s like.” 

Shannon stopped what she was doing and put down her pen, giving you her full attention. “What do you mean you know what it’s like?” A moment later she added, “If you’re comfortable telling me, that is.”

“Ever since Thanos put this--” You showed your purple dark energy and then made it disappear “--inside me, it’s turned me into someone else… I was so angry all the time, at everything. It’s much better now, but I still get so much rage.” You looked up at the camera, facing her. “So I know what it’s like to not quite know what’s happening to your body… To have this… power… but it destroys you.” 

“It does. I’ve noticed I can’t keep up during training with Nat. Both of us being a part of the Red Room, we’ve kept to training like they taught us, but I’m just not as fast as I used to be.” She shrugged and looked a bit sullen. “It’s all still here,” she noted, pointing at her head with her pen. “It’s just that this is giving me trouble.” She closed her eyes, and then opened them, revealing  milky red eyes with purple swirls. 

“I can’t imagine how hard it is for you,” you commented. “To hold all those powers and finding out how to use them and keep them in check.”

“At least it hasn’t taken over… yet,” she remarked, staring down at her hands. 

“It won’t. You’re too strong for that,” you assured. 

Shannon smiled a small bit, glancing up to look at you through the screen, trying to find solace in your words. 

“I was hoping to see if I can get you out of there so that you can come with me to the mansion and we can both figure out what’s going on with our powers?” She sighed and reminded, “Of course, I’ll have to talk to Fury about it.” A groan escaped her just thinking about it, and you smiled slightly, remembering how much she did not like negotiating with the SHIELD director. 

Your face list up a million degrees. “You would really see about that?” 

“Of course. I want us to be able to get the help we need. We shouldn’t have to suffer at the hands of these powers.”

“I’m sort of public enemy number one. Not sure the world is ready for me to be out…” A deep frown followed your statement that didn’t go unnoticed by your friend. 

She lifted an eyebrow. “Well… technically, the world doesn’t know it was you. You know Charles, he’d probably help get you to the mansion without being seen, just to help you.”

A sly smile played on your lips. “Are you suggesting Nightcrawler break me out?” you teased. 

Shannon couldn’t help but start laughing jovially at your comment. “He’d probably have a blast getting out of there! That kid loves scaring Tony.”

You were so overwhelmed with the prospect of getting out, even if it was just for a few hours, that you had almost forgot about your fellow cellmate. Saness colored your face and tone. “I don’t know if I should Leave Loki though… That doesn’t seem… fair that I should get a day pass…” You glanced back toward your bedroom, a guilty look on your face. 

Shannon understood where you were coming from, so she offered, “I mean, it’s only if you want to. Besides, it’s not like we’re going out to shop. It’s to help you progress and reinstate yourself to the world.”

You bit your lip, noticing the wording. Reinstate yourself to the world… Right.. Because you were in prison. 

“Not to make that sound like you’re a felon!” she loudly corrected, turning back to the screen with a look of embarrassment. 

You waved it off. It wasn’t her fault you were in the situation you were in. 

“Let me talk to Loki?” you requested with raised eyebrows. “But I would love to see everyone again, and figure out how to get… this side of me out.” 

“Of course! Take whatever time you need. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to contact Charles, so let me know whenever you’ve made a decision.”

“I will. Thank you, Shannon. In the meantime, do you have anything physics related I can study? I am going bonkers down here…” You paused for a moment, before asking, “Does Tony mind you talking to me? Or sharing data? I mean, he’s still pissed at me… right?” 

This time, it was her turn to wave you off. “Forget Tony, he’s my problem, not yours.” She looked at you and smiled. “I could get you whatever Jane’s left unfinished? There are a few new things she got here.” She pointed to a stack of files on the nearby desk. 

“Please, send me anything, otherwise this gold mine is going to rot,” you joked, pointing to your head. 

“Well we can’t have that now, can we?” She giggled before talking to JARVIS. “JARVIS, send whatever files are in our system from Jane’s recent studies down to Y/N’s office.”

“Right away, Ms. Shannon. Is there anything else?”

“Let me know when Fury will be coming by the Tower or the complex, please?” 

“Yes, Ms. Shannon.”

“The files should be ready for you to look through, now. I’ll make sure any new data gets sent to you too.” Meanwhile, she was nodding her head while looking at the holographic data in front of her, swiping it to and fro. 

“I’ll let you get back to your work,” you offered, trying to hide the sadness in your voice. But her work and research was more important than keeping a prisoner like you company. 

She hummed. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. I just have a deadline for this and--”

“Shan, it’s fine,” you assured genuinely with a soft smile. 

She seemed to be relieved by your words. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later, okay? Don’t forget to talk to Loki and let me know?”

“I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

“Thanks. Talk to you soon.”

The call ended. 

But no part of you could even be sad, for this had been the best gift you’d gotten in some time. Other than being allowed to share a cell with Loki, this was the next best thing.

-----------------------------

Loki was still asleep during your conversation with Shannon, but when he woke up and you made him a nice brunch, you decided to dive right into the touchy subject of you getting a day pass, and not him. 

“Uh, Loki,” you started as he ate his meal. 

“Yes, darling?” he asked, glancing up to you. 

You wrung your hands, knowing how this sounded. That you would be leaving Loki behind, that you were gaining freedom and he wasn’t. That you were not, in fact, equals, as you had said you’d been. As you always tried to prove to him. 

“Shannon.. She has an idea…”

“Is it an idea to break out of this?” he asked, pointing around with his eyes. 

“Well… actually… kind of.” 

He peered at you with a curious frown. 

“I told her about my powers, about how the thing Thanos pout in me is dark and it wears on me…” 

“Yes?” 

“Well… she’s going to Charles Xavier to get her powers looked at. It seems she has a mutation that’s causing her issues… And she said she might be able to get me a pass to sort of… go with her,” you informed nervously. You were so worried Loki would simply see this as a way of you gaining freedom, while he stayed behind. Or that you were somehow distancing yourself from him. 

“So you would get to leave?” he clarified. 

“Yes. She’s going to talk to Fury, and see if it’s even possible. It’s more like a trip to the doctor. I’ll be going to see if he can do anything about the power not being so…”

“Evil?” 

Your gaze slid to his as you nodded.

“My love, if you need to go, go. It will be nice for at least one of us to leave this cell, even if it’s just for a day.”

“Really?” you asked, hope swelling inside you.

“Yes, of course. Go, do whatever you need. I’ll be here when you get back,” he said with a sly smile and you couldn’t help but round the kitchen island and hug him tightly. 

-----------------------

As Shannon closed down her work and research for the day, she stepped out of the lab, somewhat exhausted, but simultaneously refreshed. It was amazing how just talking to you had lifted her spirit so much. She had only made it a few steps when Tony came up and greeted her. 

“Hey, babe. Mind walking with me?’ he asked.

“Ugh, Tony, I’m so tired... I think I just want to go sit and read for a little bit,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t offend him. 

“That’s fine, I just thought we could have a quick bite together?” he wondered, his eyebrows perched up,wanting to guilt her in with his innocent, irresistible look. 

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Alright, alright. Yeah, let’s go grab a bite. What did you have in mind?” she asked as he led her down the hall toward the kitchen and dining area. 

As soon as the two of them rounded the corner, she was greeted with the Avengers and some other colleagues from around the tower. The people she’d hidden herself away from for the last several days.

“Surprise!” the group yelled. 

“What’s all this?” she asked, befuddled, a warm grin on her face. 

“We noticed you looked a little down,” Clint noted. 

“And you just got back,” Bruce added. 

“So they thought it would be nice to have a little welcome home dinner. Nothing fancy, just… the tower isn’t the same without you, babe,” Tony said, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she said with a humble, sweet smile. 

“Nonsense!” Steve objected as Tony let go of her and Steve’s arm replaced it. “You deserve it. We all missed you.” 

“Well, thank you, all of you. I missed you too.”

---------------------------

Sometime later that evening, you called Shannon on the video chat. The AI found her closest device and opened up, displaying where she was. 

“Hey, Sha--” Was all you got out before you saw what was going on around her. It appeared to be a small party. Shannon had a drink in her hand, as did all the Avengers and a few other people you didn’t recognize. She was laughing and hitting Nat’s arm, while Tony and Clint were smiling and talking. Bruce seemed to be having a good time with the strangers, talking. 

At first, you were happy, a smile pulling at your lips, but just as you were about to join in, you realized -- you couldn’t. You couldn’t open your mouth and tell a joke, you couldn’t say anything to anyone… Because you were locked away, several floors below them, paying for your crime. Even if you did try to blend in, even if you did try to get anyone’s attention, you would be met with a resounding “fuck off”. Who knew what kind of pandemonium would’ve erupted if they knew you were contacting them. 

With a sad sigh, you swiped over to the texting app and sent Shannon a text, telling her that you were good to go.

You switched back to the video app, where Shannon pulled out her phone, smiled at it, typed a quick response, and pocketed it again. 

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to Fury,” she sent back.

Your face fell and you were about to close the app when you noticed Steve Rogers was looking at you. It seemed he had just glanced up. Your eyes met but you didn’t have it in you to try and smile to be polite. Steve gazed at you, and if you weren’t mistaken, you saw… sympathy in his eyes, in his slight frown. He gave you a tiny nod, and you returned it before your gaze dropped. 

Unable to bear the sadness, and downright pity for yourself, you closed the video app. Steve looked away, feeling sorry for you, but tried to get back to the party. 

Sulking, you closed the tablet and left it on the coffee table to get up and go to bed. 

Loki peered up at you from his magazine, a worried frown etched into his stunning features. “Darling?” 

“Hmm?” you hummed.

“Is everything alright? I thought you were going to call Shannon?” 

You turned slowly to face him. “Uh, I did. She was busy so… I'll catch up with her tomorrow,” you said, hoping to hide your disappointment. 

“Are you sure? You seem upset,” he commented as he stood and came over to you, putting his hands on your arms. 

“I’m fine,” you lied. 

He peered down at you with peculiarity. “If you’re not fine, you know you can tell me. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll understand.”

You smiled up at him, loving that you could tell him anything. “Alright, that’s fair. I'm not fine, but I don’t feel like talking about it.” 

He smiled. “There we are.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know,” you assured before leaning up to kiss him earnestly, but quickly. “Thank you. I just want to go to bed for now. I’ll let you know if I feel like talking.”

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll be in shortly,” he promised with warmth. He let go of you and you nodded slightly before heading to bed and curling up in your bed. The bed you lived in for the last several months… the bed you would probably live the rest of your life in. 

Unforseen Chasm Tag list- @reigningqueenofwords @oldfreakything @weclassygirl @adefectivedetective​

@dontbetooobvious

Tag list- @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @winchester-writes @winchesterenthusiast​ ​ @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​   @sammysbuttcheek​​ @misz-adrii​ @sandlee44​ @womanxofletters​ @natsuccs​ @childishhoebinoo​ @expecteddifferent​ @girl-next-door-writes​ @fanaticfanfiction​ @dakotapaigelove​ @sassy-spn-knight-of-hell​

[virovac]

Kyle  Letter draft 3

I only have Noelle’s fanmail address I think, how 

Anyway. Looking for further feedback.

I would like to register a concern with the presentation of the Kyle character. I know its too late to change the majority writing, but if it could stop you guys from doing a poor taste epilogue gag or something, I want to take the chance.

First of all I'd like to thank you for making this show.

I've always wanted to be a writer, but I've had trouble with dialogue.

But for some rreason , this show has been so inspiring and I've written a tremendous amount of fanfiction in the past two years than I have in my life. 

This show is wonderful in many ways and has improved my self-confidence. I am glad it exists.

Which makes what I'm discussing all the more painful

I am speaking on this partly because Kyle's issues with memory and following directions match up perfectly with my own experiences with trauma.  I found myself having difficulty being useful to my family without constant supervision, constantly dissasociating and it was one of the worst feelings in the world.

I know many people oddly expect Kyle to be He-Man or join the main cast.  I think the issue is more than just many are culturally conditioned to assume a white guy is important.

A large part of it is because they expected a show by LGBT+ creators to have more to say about bullying than including it for cheap laughs and 90s style subversion humor such as that "touching scene" with Bow that felt like out of the 90s shows mocking the concept of compassion to the enemy espoused by shows like Classic She-Ra.

Kyle does not come off as "hero from a comedy parody who missed the call", he comes off as a serious abuse victim. Or the odd quiet kid in your class you regret not treating better years later. His reactions and what happens to him, outside of fight scenes (which are hilarious), aren't slapstick and come across very real.

If he is intended to mock a protagonist archetype, then I am afraid the archetype its mocking is the "hero in an abusive home" like Harry Potter.

Everywhere else in the show addressing the topics of isolation and abuse are treated seriously. And the show otherwise treats concepts like compassion with earnest. The show has generally been earnest and sincere.

Kyle's situation being played entirely for laughs stands out starkly, and comes off as a tremendous double standard to other characters. Reinforcing the toxic idea that female victims are to be sympathised with, but not male victims. In an otherwise very progressive show, this is upholding a character as deserving abuse for being "weak" or "not tough".

The issue isn't that its happening, the issue is how its being framed

As I stated above. Kyle's issues with forgetting things and following directions match my own experience with trauma.

“Experiencing traumatic events directly impairs the ability to learn, both immediately after the event and over time.”

He lives in the Fright Zone, under Shadow Weaver

So the humor also comes off at laughing at the expense of someone disabled from repeated trauma.

And if he's meant to be " just like that" ,well that's a different set of problems.

As someone who needed learning accommodations, I can't help but feel portraying a character as just naturally "a loser" reinforces ableist sentiments.

And, relating it to stress-caused worse when the jokes are about someone in an abusive environment.Having an abuse victim be a natural screwup encourages blaming the victim and ignoring how stress affects memory and learning ability.

I have actually seen fans, mostly on younger side, saying that people like Kyle should just kill themselves or better never to have been born, so I think this is a valid concern.

A second issue is 

The very way Kyle's two biggest scenes were done seem also like they would be very alienating to real life bullying or abuse victims.

While from a Watsonian perspective Bow has no reason to owe anything to a kidnapper, kids are going to see someone in a bad situation reaching out for sympathy, and just being used and (literally) tossed aside.

Bow even talks like someone unable to comprehend an abusive living environment. "How can you get in trouble for just talking" making it all the more unnerving.

And far worse, and the reason I started this letter: the starvation joke in S3E5.

Not only did it make no sense, even for the dream world (how would Kyle only have bars of  the one flavor Adora likesr? This should have been something that should have been off to Adora);  starving someone is a real life abuse tactic on par with what Shadow Weaver does.

When the food he’s forced to give up gets ruined and he’s blamed for it he just…shuts down. Its like watching one of those youtube videos that recently got shut down where parents encourage their children to abuse eachother for.  Its as realistic as the abuse Catra goes through, but its played for laughs.

And Adora does nothing , and doesn't react to someone being forced to go hungry for a whole week. Which for the active lifestyle of the Horde, could be life threatening.

And starving someone in the Horde makes no sense . You can't fast in wartime, soldiers need protein.

So Reiteraing my main point: what I'm trying to say is: some people process trauma like Kyle does. And seeing the narrative treat the trauma symptoms other characters show sympathetically, while how Kyle's are treated with mockery and ridicule within and outside the show and used to justify more abuse…from personal experience as someone struggling with traume: it hurts.

I don't think Kyle needed to be a main character,I like his role of being a side character or “Steve” as they say in the Transformers fandom: adding a human face to the “incompetent faceless goons”. Reminding us they are broken people who have been taken in and spat out.

But I think its important he be allowed to get better and heal and not be shown as still a "loser" in the end of the show. 

 Or if you can't change a minor scene at this point:  A special lesson comic written to take place after the show, some public statements and apologies, advertisement for organizations helping people in positions similar to Kyle...those would go along way.

Or Netflix could maybe just edit out that line about it being stolen from him, that would be a godsend. (And honestly, I have not seen a single person with a positive opinion towards that line.)

People with stress caused learning disabilities can improve in a better environment and I feel that needs to be shown.

I think the problem of how this happened is that tropes for “loser” , “nerd”, and “comedic everyman” all intersect and exchange with eachother. And how much the “loser” and “nerd” are are often tied into ableism or hostility towards neuroatypical traits. 

I ask you please, please be more mindufl in future projects!

On a final, more personal note that "ration scene" also made the Repkyle teasing in the show somewhat...triggering when I rewatch. All I can see now is an abuser during one of their "nicer moments". (That's how abusers often keep their victims around)

Is actually giving me a sinking uncomfortable feeling after seeing Rogelio abusing Kyle by starvation and Adora acting as if that was normal in the dreamworld.

I was ambivalent and now, on some days,seein Repkyle content actually causes me occasional physical pain.  Like my throat or stomach hurts

I miss when it was a cute fun ship, but now you guys are shipteasing him with someone you've shown as willing to abuse him. In a dream world, but Adora acts as if nothing was wrong and its not one of the signs something is off.

Unless Netflix were to go back to and edit out that line, well...its gonna be a stain on the entire show in my opinion.

[diariesofabuggygirl]

Being Disabled is an Emotional Rollercoaster

Can we get real for a bit? Can we talk about all of the stops on the emotional journey that is being disabled? And how they loop around and around and a round?

Let’s talk first about what has triggered this long post:

What about the people who are sick and are suffering, but go out of their way to make it seem like they’re as sick (or have been for as long) as you when they actually aren’t?

Look. If you’re not, or have never been, as sick as I am/have been that’s a good thing. That’s not something I think badly of people for - I hope that’s obvious.

Also if you’re sicker than I am or have been sick longer I’m not gonna be weirdly jealous.

What I do have a problem with though is people who work to equate their suffering with yours when in fact it’s not the case. People who do so not in a supportive ‘I get it’ way but people who basically want attention.

If you’re sick I’m gonna give you the attention, support, and accommodations that you need and deserve. I guess not everyone is like that but when you’re in a group of or talking to another chronically ill/disabled person who’s dealt with all the things that we deal with (especially those of us with invisible illnesses and disabilities) you do NOT need to exaggerate. 

That leads to some real bull shit.

I thought a girl was as sick as I was. In hindsight it was because she wanted me to think that. She went out of her way to make it so. It wasn’t that she tried to dramatize it to the correct level of how normal people would respond to a situation, by which I mean it wasn’t that she was desensitized to the crap she was dealing with and over corrected when trying to paint an accurate picture. It ended up being that she was unable to not be the center of attention. I keep having to learn that just because someone has been or is going through something awful, that doesn’t mean they are nice people.

If someone is sicker than you, you don’t need to one-up them. Just like if someone is worse off financially than you, or with any other hardship. You just don’t have to do it. In fact it should be avoided. Here’s why.

 I was using this girl as a measuring stick. She started to work some (probably too quickly based on her health because she started also having financial issues). I thought ‘Gosh. Should I be pushing myself harder?!’ I didn’t think that there was any way that even if I was in as desperate a situation as her that I could be doing what she was doing - at least with the stamina that she was. I thought that maybe she was just stronger than I was. 

That was a mistake. What I should have done was instead of going to a self blaming place do one of two things:

1. Realize that since I wasn’t as desperate maybe I didn’t have the adrenaline and such that she did. (I did somewhat realize this)

2. Allow myself to believe that, no really I couldn’t do that, but not because I wasn’t strong or because I lacked will power, but instead because I WAS SICKER.

Listen. There are a lot of variables in our lives, even among people with illnesses/disabilities and even those of us with the “same” illnesses/disabilities. One of the hardest things for us to shake in life is comparing ourselves to one another. But I truly believe that it is one of the most necessary things that those of us with chronic illnesses/disabilities (particularly invisible ones) have to do.

We are the last people who need to be hard on ourselves. We are the last people who need to put that sort of pressure on ourselves, or hold ourselves to such a high standard. Standards that are often unreasonable for able-bodied people. 

As someone who has always had some illnesses (though I didn’t know it for a long time) but hasn’t always been disabled, this has been a journey. It took years after I became bedridden for me to even realize that I was disabled and that it was ok to use that term. Thinking that I would soon be better (it’s been ten years, never thought that it would be this long) it took years more to believe that I could use things created for disabled people. In part because I always thought I’d get better “soon” but in part because I thought I’d get better period, and not everyone would.

If you need a cane/wheelchair/whatever use one. If you don’t “need” (a word I have a complicated relationship with) it but it would still help or even might help, try it. If you need a handicap seat more than your average member of the public - you’re who they’re made for. If you need to ask to sit to the side of the merch line at a concert until you’ve waited an equal amount of time as others because you can’t/shouldn’t stand up that long - do it.

I myself have a hard time practicing what I preach with this. I often don’t do this. But damn it I always regret it. Ten years ago I never thought I’d still be sick now. Wouldn’t have dreamed it. But I look back and see all the times these things would have come in handy. For me this is complicated by the fact that I have a not-so-chronic chronic illness (on top of other truly chronic ones) that I will one day get better from. I always thought - or hoped- that I was right at the edge of getting “well” - or as close to it as I’ll get. I though it would be silly to buy a cane or a self pushing wheel chair to just use for a couple of months. Flash forward and it’s been ten years.

DO NOT COMPARE YOURSELF TO ABLE BODIED OR OTHER DISABLED PEOPLE

Just as others can’t tell what’s going on within you, you can’t tell what’s going on within others. Especially if your ideas of a healthy amount of pushing yourself have been skewed. For me they were skewed by the first eleven years of my life when I thought I was healthy, and further skewed by years of having to push, far too hard, to my own detriment in order to do literally anything. 

Take a shower? Recover for 24 hours.

Brush my hair? 30 mins of increased fatigue.

Go to the mall with friends? A week full of seizures.

Yes I sometimes went out with friends. From a health perspective I shouldn’t have, from a mental health of a fourteen year old perspective I had to.

The friends who (thankfully) stuck around (or more so entered my life) when I got sick didn’t see how when I went home I couldn’t even shower let alone make myself a sandwich or attempt to do school work. They didn’t know that the day I spent with them was my entire week’s worth of activity.

I look back to that time in my life and I don’t know how I did it. If you asked me to do all that now, even with me being so much healthier, I couldn’t. In fact I wouldn’t even try. I would sometimes go to a friends house for a sleepover, go to church with them the next day, then the mall for literally six hours, and then a sex ed class that night. I went home and was bedridden the entirety of the rest of the week. Other than going to the bathroom, meeting with my homebound teacher, and occasionally going to another room to sit: that was it.

I also hate how sometimes I think I’m not allowed to say that I was bedridden because most of the time I technically could walk.

But FFS I was bedridden enough to say that I was bedridden.

Same with being homebound now. I use homebound now because most nights I can make myself a grilled cheese. I sometimes do leave the house. I sometimes even leave for things other than health appointments. But when I do it’s usually after an appointment and I pay for it for the next few days. When I am lucky enough to get out just for the fun of it I often think “So can I not say I’m homebound now?”

I’m not attached to the label because I want pity or attention. Although I will be honest and say that since I’ve not been taken seriously by the vast majority of people, and since most people that I trusted dropped off the face of the Earth when I got sick, I do sometimes wish I got a little more pity. Because when you’ve hurt as much as I have, for as long as I have, and you’re this isolated. It’s nice to have someone recognize that you are one strong MOFO. Usually though only people who have been through similar things will do that. Which is why it’s even more important that we don’t exaggerate our own issues to each other.

It’s also important that we are aware of who we are talking to and what they’ve been through/are going through. You should absolutely not complain to someone who had to leave school entirely in the sixth grade (and still hasn’t been back, even though they’d have graduated college by now) about not being able to make it to school every day this week. It’s one thing to do that a couple of times in the heat of the moment, it’s another thing to lack enough empathy to do that constantly. In the same way that you wouldn’t have a right to complain to an amputee that you broke your arm. Or that your hairline is receeding to someone who’s lost their hair completely.

I’m attached to labels for a similar reason that I enjoy finding out more of my diagnosis's. I enjoy find out more diagnosis’s because well, I’ve already got the damn thing, so it’s better to have a name for it so I can try to figure out how to fix it. When I have a word to use - like ‘homebound’ or ‘bedridden’ or ‘disabled’ it helps me validate my experiences, my hardships. Not just to others but to myself.

Recently I was diagnosed with Tethered Cord. Now this is something that they usually find in children, but they are finding more and more in adults. It’s something that they should have probably checked me for when I was eighteen months old. But instead I got very sick. I got sick with late stage neuro lyme. I got sick with many other things too. But at the same time that my lyme got really bad and I “crashed” my TC did too, probably because I was going through puberty and growing taller. I was told by many doctors that I was faking before I got any diagnosis at all. One of the nastiest was a neurologist. Sometime I think I might right him a letter. Let him now just how bad he effed up, and how much easier my life would have been had I had my TC fixed then. I would have healed faster (because I was younger), I wouldn’t have had so much nerve damage, and most importantly I wouldn’t have suffered so much for so long. I still would have had my other illnesses but the things that we’d written off as my lyme that were actually TC would have been fixed ten years earlier. 

Anyway. I had an inkling that something else was wrong with me, since I was about to hit the ten year mark of lyme treatment. I pushed for a neuro work up. I asked about chiari because I’d read that they had changed the diagnostic guidelines. I didn’t have chiari, but I did have CCI and TC which together cause something very similar. Getting checked thoroughly for chiari by an EDS knowledgable neuro surgeon though got us looking into TC. He said that I should get checked out for it. I got my lumbar MRI and got lucky that my tethering showed up clearly on the imaging. We discussed it but he said that since I just had ‘some minor nerve stuff in my feet and very rare incontinence’ that he wouldn’t do surgery. I was surprised. I explained that I knew that it often didn’t cause all the symptoms I was having but that if there was even a chance it could make me feel better with all that I had going on, that I wanted to do it. He said ‘what all do you have going on?’

It was then that I realized that in  my effort to give him the most clear cut symptoms of TC that I have, I forgot to give him a good picture of what my life is actually like. As soon as I said that I have been mostly bedridden or homebound for ten years he said we’ll do the surgery. But my being mostly bedridden/homebound has been going on so long that I didn’t even mention it. I didn’t even mention it. I don’t mention a lot of things. I’m sure people who are friends with me on facebook think I never shut up about my illnesses. But if they really truly realized that this is my life -literally constantly- I bet they’d change their tune. They don’t realize that when they stopped asking how I was (most, very quickly I might add) that didn’t mean I got better. My symptoms don’t stop just because I don’t mention them. It’s rare for me to mention symptoms at all, even to those I live with unless they’re worse or new, so that we can track them. In the grand scheme of things I almost never mention this crap. Not anymore than I have to. I’m a real trooper. Sometimes I forget to let myself believe that. Most people will never truly understand this, and I think that’s probably a good thing. Because it takes going through this to get it. If any of the kids I went to school with woke up with my daily symptoms, even with me being so much better than I was, they’d call 911 and think that they were dying. They’d insist are morphine and narcotics. They couldn’t do it. 

I’m not glad that I have tethered cord. I am glad however that I’ve figured it out, that I pushed for another work up, that I wrote off that mean neurologist from when I was eleven, that we didn’t listen to any of the other nasty doctors who didn’t believe me, that we got to good ones who listen, and that this surgery may really help. And although it hurt bad at the time (or rather when I was back with it enough to realize it had happened) I’m glad the people that let me down got out of my life. It’s allowed me to realize that no one else’s opinions really matter when it comes to this sort of thing, because no one else is in my body. I had my mom, a couple of new/better friends (shout out to Emma and Lana) and really, that’s all you need. You’re much better off with then than with people doubting your pain.

Getting a diagnosis that is such a clear cut “oh wow” sort of thing, something that I need literal spinal surgery for has been interesting. I am no sicker now that I have this diagnosis. But to have something that, although many doctors don’t realize how serious it can be, your average person would be in an odd way impressed by has been sort of healing. I like knowing that I’ve got an even scarier seeming something going on. Lyme isn’t taken seriously. Not by the vast majority of doctors, and not by the vast majority of the public. They don’t know all that it can do. They don’t know how common it is. They don’t know that it’s everywhere. They don’t know that it’s similar to syphilis. That it bores down into your muscle and bone. That it gets into literally every part of your body. That it causes your blood to get too thick. Your brain to swell. Your heart to not work correctly. Your immune system to basically shut down. But when I say that my spinal cord is tied to my spinal column, that it’s pulling on my brain, people are much more likely to have an appropriate and proportionate response. I’ve always been this sick though. I was born with all of these issues. Nothing changed other than me being lucky enough to figure out another big piece.

I hate that this helps me. I hate that I still give a rat’s ass about what others think. I don’t in the traditional sense, at least not most of the time. I’m now older, wiser, stronger, more self assured. I now know because of how many times that it’s happened that if a doctor doesn’t think I have something wrong with me, and I do think so, that the doctor is almost definitely wrong. I have now had the experience of a doctor telling me that I was fine even though I knew that my organs were literally falling out of my body. Go to a different doctor and sure enough not one not two but four organs were prolapsed. I knew that before it was confirmed though. I know that I’m sick and I suffer. But after years of very few people treating you with the amount of respect you deserve for getting through the piles and piles of shit I dredge through all day every day, you start to doubt. After years of doctors saying I was faking I started wondering if they were right. But that didn’t make them correct. That didn’t make it true. And it didn’t make their behavior acceptable. All this going on so long that I’ve lived equal parts of my life before and after I crashed, this becoming my ‘normal’ doesn’t not make me healthy. It doesn’t mean that I’m normal. It doesn’t mean that now it’s ok to judge myself based off of societies standards. 

Yes I had to leave school in the sixth grade. Yes I had to leave homebound in the eleventh. No I still don’t have my GED. Or drive. Nor have I been on a date, or been kissed, or stayed overnight without another adult present. 

Yeah. Cuz I’m disabled. And that sucks. But that’s ok. It’s dealing with the illnesses and disabilities that suck, not me.

[the-dyslexic-blogger]

Fear 06/06/20

So I've talked about many things in my recent bogs bit have not spoken about the limitations that come with having anxiety. This, as per usual had a trigger warning for self-harm anxiety, sexual assault and also suicide mentions, oh and stalking if that's a trigger (funnnn yayyyy).

In the past, I have let my anxiety take over my life in certain parts as a child I was timid. I hated talking to others and struggled to ask for help in class. I was mostly alone and hated most the attention on me so, therefore, I didn't like my birthday because this was always all on me.

My anxiety started to get really bad in year 7 when I started the shithole school I was at, it tore my mental health apart and threw the bits in the air as they celebrated the victory of taking my life over. I thought being shy was just me being nervous. I enjoyed drama a lot I used to do productions outside of school. As soon as it hit GCSE, I did take drama I never regretted it my teacher was very helpful when it came to anxiety and stuff so she would let me do my performances in front of her. One of my friends would do the lighting and encourage me. It helped to have that connection with her that she'd look out for me.

Once college started, I gave up participating in performances. My Anxiety and panic attacks took over me. It was like a wave had suddenly hit me. I was stuck under a stream of anxiety, panic attacks and other mental illnesses. I could barely breathe its what anxiety felt like my panic attacks were very regular id have at least 5 a day just thinking about going outside because people will look at me and judge me it didn't help alongside this I had a lot of stuff to deal with my home life, My self harm my depression and other lovely wonderful traumas.

So after school, I gave up the thing I loved the most drama I used to love being able to be someone else for that hour and forget the problems I used to love the feeling of thinking of a drama piece and being able to script it and performed I loved it.

As soon as college, my anxiety as I have said already got very bad unbearable it began to be bad at the end of school. Still, I continued in drama my panic attacks were bad though before any drama lesson id go into the bathroom have a panic attack self-harm and go in with a smile like nothing had just happed my friend at the time also got anxious about performing wed help each other out with it.

Throughout college, I lost this interest in drama the thought of performing made me feel sick even going to college was enough to trigger a panic attack and Id have multiple in the daytime college first year wasn't a pleasant experience in college was the 2nd time id been sexually assaulted by the same person the college never helped it was traumatising it was on one of the days I had math tutoring my tutor was lovely. She was worried about me this whole experience knocked my anxiety far back and took the person I used to be I was a shadow of myself I still am working on getting that light again,And getting who I used to be back. I'm not going into the assault, but I will do in another blog.

 I will say as much as I hated the job sometimes it helped me a bit with my anxiety as I serve people ice cream, so I have to socialise this did help me massively.

Second-year came around the first day I went to induction was hard as by my previous college I was told id never get far. I wouldn't be able to achieve, so they offered me to do my GCSEs again. I had passed English, and the way that college treated me made me feel was awful. So I moved the morning of induction day I felt sick as frick. It wasn't pleasant. I   had few panic attacks in the quiet corner of the bus and went in it turned to out to be a good day.

I had applied for a course in level 2., but the guy I talked to said I had enough grades to get into level 3 so it was good.

I  got into level three, My anxiety was still terrible. I barely spoke to anyone in the first week or so.

I would wait until the tutor let us go and id practically run out the classroom to either the library or home depending on whether it was hometime or not I was too anxious to socialise with anyone I was like this all the time.

I never asked for help when I needed it having my learning difficulties really affected this as well, I struggled with my written work and maths but was too anxious to ask for help, and I was dyspraxic as fuck.

The third year in college was very hard as all of my friends had moved on and moved off of college or different courses. I struggled with my anxiety massively. After all of my issues, I was back in therapy and finally diagnosed with  Major depression, social anxiety disorder and generalised anxiety disorder which I was given medication for. Still, they ended up triggering a lot of panic attacks at the start but began to help after a while.

 I hid away a lot when I wasn't at college, in fact, my anxiety got so bad that in march of 2019 I gave college up didn't go to college whatsoever my anxiety had got me into a vicious circle of not going in and then getting too anxious to go back into college. So I gave up luckily, my college was still able to give me a qualification they took into account my awful mental state.

My mum has never been the nicest to me, so she didn't know when I was at college I was actually at my mate's house I couldn't face telling them I had a bad panic attack every time I thought about it so they would meet me every morning and id go to their house for the day then come back home after and act like it was college.

Around this time was the time I had an issue with a stalker he was on the bus one day and asked where a particular stop was so I being a good bean I told him, it happened to be the same one as me. That was that reasonable right? Yes, but it wasn't after some time he'd wait for me at the bus stop and 'walk with me' aka stalk me home I was clever though and went to a completely different area and said that was my house and waited till he fucked off. Then id go back I would get into shit for being late home my parents were assholes about it I didn't tell them about all of this.

This went on for about a month, and then I told my friend he encouraged me to call the police. So I did he was there for it he helped me through it. They gave me a lot of support throughout all of this, which set my anxiety off very severely, but they understood my situation.

One evening I was in my room heard a knock at the door my dad got it and called me I came down the stairs and my heart sunk it was the police, I felt so sick in my throat. And I sheepishly walked down the stairs and into the front room. They came to have a chat about all of this, and they were lovely police officers and was very understanding. I think they could see how anxious I was.

After this, I went back upstairs after trying to fight off a panic attack for the whole meeting thingy if you can call it that in the living room. I got upstairs, and my mum shouted for me. I got yelled at for having a stalker, yes I got punished because some dude decided 'hey imma stalk you now give you lifelong trauma' it's not like I was like 'HEY STALK ME' It was rough I went back into my room cut and had a panic attack and cried myself to sleep. You know that feeling when you're in your room trying not to cry too loud holding your hand on your mouth trying not to let anyone hear you well that was what it was like that night. I fell asleep with a blade in my hand crying wishing i wasn't born.

Ever since that I haven't gotten off at the stop in the centre, I always get off early I'm too scared to do otherwise and get off in the usual place.

Summer was hard for my anxiety especially with university coming closer and closer, and I didn't know what was going on with it this was making me more and more anxious my home situation wasn't too great either.

 I wanted to get out of my home. Still, I didn't know what was happening with it once I found out where I was going I didn't have time to think about it as that week I had to apply for accommodation then that weekend I was moving in the next day freshers week began. I was anxious and too scared to trust people being in a flat was hard. Still, I met some pretty amazing people in this I would not change this for anything if the other university asked me  I would turn it down anyway because I'm happy with where I am.

I feel like university has changed me yes I was very very anxious at the start and have had ups and downs with it with my mental health the trauma train making a lot of stops in my head. With the downs, I have met many amazing people. I have even gotten back into drama with doing musical theatre yes I did stop it for a bit, but that was when shit hit the fan again. My medication started up again. I loved musical theatre it helped me with my anxiety a lot. I met lots and lots of lovely human beings there. They are like a family even though I wasn't noticed much I was always quiet and to myself so I don't think I really made an impact on anyone there. Still, oh well they helped me a lot.

 But there you go another blog of Dino chats shit gets distracted goes off-topic went back onto topic and written over one thousand words. Fun.

But thank you all for reading my shitty blogs more about me complaining about how rough life can be and how shit things are. Still, they do get better I promise you this is probably the shittest blog I've done as I've kinda slightly rushed it I wanted to get it up for yall as I've been saying for ages ill upload (Not that anyone actually follows my blogs oof)But I did it anyway 

But as i usually do anxiety affects, everyone, even if you're not professionally diagnosed with it everyone gets anxiety and its okay to feel anxious don't beat yourself up for it or even hate yourself for being anxious it's alright I'm here if anyone needs me you can message me anytime love ya.

As I usually do  Here are some helplines if you are struggling with anxiety and panic or/and anxiety attacks thank you all again stay strong my human beans thanks for reading another shitty blog that is longer than it should be as I said I'm always here. If you need me inbox me (on Tumblr) or message me on anything I'm here still will be I care about you, YES YOU the person who read all of my blogs or skipped to the end if so I don't blame you, but I care, love, ya.

Here you go :

NHS Anxiety:https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/stress-anxiety-depression/understanding-panic/

NHS mental health support: https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/stress-anxiety-depression/mental-health-helplines/

Young minds on anxiety: https://youngminds.org.uk/find-help/conditions/anxiety/

Love

Dino the dyslexic blogger xx

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2019: Come as You Are

Happy Monday, friends! As you probably noticed, I took a pause from weekend reading this week in order to reflect on National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Each year, I use this week as an opportunity to reflect on my own recovery and to celebrate recovery with all of you.

This year’s NEDA week theme is “Come as You Are.” To quote the National Eating Disorder Association website:

Our 2019 theme, Come as You Are, highlights NEDA’s movement towards inclusivity in the greater eating disorder community and our goal of unifying the field of eating disorders. In particular, Come as You Are sends a message to individuals at all stages of body acceptance and eating disorders recovery that their stories are valid. We invite everyone, especially those whose stories have not been widely recognized, to have the opportunity to speak out, share their experiences, and connect with others….

So this NEDAwareness Week, come as you are, not as you think you should be.

I love this message of inclusivity. A lot of work has been done in recent years to shatter the notion that eating disorders look a certain way or affect only a certain type of individual; we’re coming to recognize that size and shape don’t always reflect eating behaviors, and we’re having a dialog about the fact that EDs impact all races, communities, and gender identities.

For all of the progress we’ve made, we still have a long way to go. In my private counseling practice, where I work with many people who identify as recovered or recovering, I continually hear invalidations of the struggle. “I was never really underweight,” people tell me as a means of explaining why they didn’t seek help sooner. “I didn’t lose my period.” “I only binged every now and then.” And so on. The shadow of a single, popularized eating disorder narrative/stereotype discourages a lot of people who need help from actively seeking it out. It’s time to change that.

I’m having my own reflections on the 2019 theme. I’m thinking about “come as you are” not as it pertains to ED treatment or seeking help, but rather as it pertains to recovery itself.

In the fall, when my DI peers and I had our ED-themed class, it got me thinking about the disjunction between my real-life experience of recovery and the experience I expected to have years ago, when I was at the start of the process in therapy. In short, it’s been a lot messier. In treatment, it’s commonly said that “full recovery” is possible. Treatment providers hold hope of this possibility for their patients, and patients hear the expression many times over, especially when the going is tough.

I’m of two minds about full recovery as an ideal. On the one hand, I believe wholeheartedly that a beautiful, full, and healed life after eating disorders is possible. I’ve experienced it myself: a life that is nothing like the life I could have imagined for myself when I was sick. A life that’s richer than I dared to hope for and full of freedoms that I never thought would be mine. Recovery has unlocked a relationship with food that is pleasurable and rewarding in ways I couldn’t have known were possible when I was eleven, nineteen, or twenty-four years old.

Everything I write and create nowadays is a testament to this relationship and the recovery that created it. In this sense, I hold hope every day, for myself and for others.

At the same time, my recovery is not without complexity, tension, or struggle. I’ve maintained physical health and nourishing food habits for over a decade now, but that maintenance has often felt like active work. I relish eating, but my struggle with body dysmorphia is ongoing, which can complicate my enjoyment and sense of freedom with food. I’ve learned how not to use food to “manage” or “control” my anxiety, but the impulse to control unmanageable feelings is still there, still problematic, and now that food isn’t my outlet, it shows up in other ways (rigid lifestyle routines, arbitrary rules, and hypervigilance about scheduling/time management, to name only a few).

I don’t know if “full recovery” is supposed to suggest a life that’s free of triggers, compulsions that have been rerouted, or pangs of longing for the disorder and the protection it seemed to afford. If it does, then I’m not sure my recovery, such as it is, fits.

I’ve always struggled with this question. Years ago, I asked my therapist why, if EDs were recognized as mental illnesses, the language around them seemed so much more rigid than with other mental illnesses. I’ve never heard an expression as finite-sounding as “fully recovered” when it comes to treatment of depression or anxiety, for example: my understanding is that the aim of treating both is to achieve management that affords for the best quality of life possible.

I wonder if the immediate physical dangers of eating disorders warrant a more aggressive, wholesale approach to treatment and the words we use to describe it. In addition, I’ve heard it said that one of the primary goals of recovery is to help people stop actively identifying with the disease, which would support a before/after language choice. (The opposite, I guess, of a person in AA identifying as an alcoholic whether sober for many years or not.) That makes a lot of sense to me.

Full recovery may also be more possible with EDs than with other mental illnesses because measurable behavior change is such a critical part of recovery. My recovery certainly involved a close examination of familial/psychological factors that predisposed me to anorexia. But at the end of the day, the recovery processes really resided in behavior change: eating balanced meals at regular intervals, increasing my energy intake, learning to rest, and learning to sit with uncomfortable feelings. There were also physical/biological changes—weight restoration, resumed hormone function—that amounted to a firm before and after.

Still. I know well from two relapses that one can be weight restored and abiding by healthful eating patterns without having truly made peace with food, so behavior change isn’t everything. Conversely, I’ve learned that a harmonious relationship with food can accommodate dissonance, which is something that I didn’t know in my early twenties. I believed that, once I was “fully recovered” food would be “just food” (another expression I picked up in treatment) and the struggles around it would vanish entirely, forever.

I wish I’d been better prepared for the non-linearity and ongoing surprises of recovery when I was at the start of the process. The “full recovery” ideal gave me something to strive for, and—just as I believe it’s intended to—it gave me hope. It also contributed to a problematically one-dimensional vision of recovery, a binary between “before” and “after” that couldn’t always accommodate or account for my lived experience. The irony of this is that so much of recovery is about learning to let go of binary thinking altogether, to dwell comfortably in areas of gray.

Today, having made it to the other side of a lasting recovery, I believe that full recovery is possible and that it’s complicated. I believe that recovery looks from person to person, and in spite of the benchmarks we use to define it, its true meaning is created by each individual who lives through it. Most importantly, I believe that being recovered does not mean never struggling again. It means facing struggle—less often with time, if we’re lucky—and handling it in a new, more self-loving way.

A reader and friend articulated this in a way that resonated with me. She said,

I don’t know that we are ever finished with anything. We have growth spurts and setbacks, circle back to something. I think many of us eventually get to a point where some old stuff just can’t hurt us anymore. We won’t let it. And the part that is heartening and reassuring is that we acquire ways of solving problems and dealing with things along the way so that when we find ourselves back in a bad situation that we thought we conquered, we have new ways of dealing with old problems.

If you’re in recovery now or have been recovered for some time, and you feel yourself sometimes struggling to resist the behaviors that made you feel safe for a long time, you’re not alone. Resurgence of struggle or the temptation to flirt with old habits is a part of many peoples’ process, whether publicized or not.

It’s important to use your coping tools—therapy, self-expression, art, friendship, deep breathing, being in nature, or whatever works for you—to resist those familiar, destructive behaviors. It’s also important not to feel like a “failure” if this happens. And what matters most of all is to stay the course. Recovery is every bit as non-linear as it’s said to be, but it gets richer and more beautiful the longer you stick with it.

Given the “come as you are” theme, it also feels important to say that recovery can feel idiosyncratic and personal. The way you experience might be very different from how friends you made in treatment experience it, or people you read about online experience it, or how you were told you’d experience it. The longer I work in this space, the more people I talk to about recovery, the more I realize that there is no archetypal narrative.

The part of my own recovery that registers most differently than others is how important food has remained to me. In spite of several good faith efforts to regard it as “just food”—which didn’t push my recovery forward at all—I ultimately allowed myself to accept that food will always be a big deal to me. A much bigger deal than it is to a lot of other people. The question for me became whether it could be a big deal in a way that was productive and life-giving, rather than destructive and imprisoning.

Today, years later, I can say that it is. Food is a great love of my life. I take outsized pleasure in eating and making and thinking about food. It isn’t “just food,” and it never will be. This isn’t what was advised to me in anything I read about recovery. Yet I believe with all of my heart that transforming my relationship with food, rather than diminishing it, is what has made my recovery possible.

Today, on the first day of NEDA week, I celebrate my own perfectly imperfect recovery, and I celebrate yours, too. One of the many wonderful things about writing this blog is that I’ve gotten to hear about so many recovery stories over the years: through email, conversations had in person, and the green recovery series. I’ve had a chance to witness recovery in all of its incredible, ever-unfolding complexity. I’ve learned to celebrate recovery experiences that look completely different from mine. I’ve learned how to support others in their efforts to make peace with food and their bodies on their own terms. It’s such a gift.

To anyone whose life has been touched by disordered eating: I wish you the “fullness” of recovery and of life. You are loved and supported. You can and will find your own way. It won’t always be easy, and it’s not supposed to be. But it can and will be beautiful.

Thanks for reading today and any day.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2019: Come as You Are appeared first on The Full Helping.

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[gardencityvegans]

NEDA Week 2019: Come as You Are

https://www.thefullhelping.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/Stocksy_txp79fe83367uF200_Small_1386824.jpg

Happy Monday, friends! As you probably noticed, I took a pause from weekend reading this week in order to reflect on National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Each year, I use this week as an opportunity to reflect on my own recovery and to celebrate recovery with all of you.

This year’s NEDA week theme is “Come as You Are.” To quote the National Eating Disorder Association website:

Our 2019 theme, Come as You Are, highlights NEDA’s movement towards inclusivity in the greater eating disorder community and our goal of unifying the field of eating disorders. In particular, Come as You Are sends a message to individuals at all stages of body acceptance and eating disorders recovery that their stories are valid. We invite everyone, especially those whose stories have not been widely recognized, to have the opportunity to speak out, share their experiences, and connect with others….

So this NEDAwareness Week, come as you are, not as you think you should be.

I love this message of inclusivity. A lot of work has been done in recent years to shatter the notion that eating disorders look a certain way or affect only a certain type of individual; we’re coming to recognize that size and shape don’t always reflect eating behaviors, and we’re having a dialog about the fact that EDs impact all races, communities, and gender identities.

For all of the progress we’ve made, we still have a long way to go. In my private counseling practice, where I work with many people who identify as recovered or recovering, I continually hear invalidations of the struggle. “I was never really underweight,” people tell me as a means of explaining why they didn’t seek help sooner. “I didn’t lose my period.” “I only binged every now and then.” And so on. The shadow of a single, popularized eating disorder narrative/stereotype discourages a lot of people who need help from actively seeking it out. It’s time to change that.

I’m having my own reflections on the 2019 theme. I’m thinking about “come as you are” not as it pertains to ED treatment or seeking help, but rather as it pertains to recovery itself.

In the fall, when my DI peers and I had our ED-themed class, it got me thinking about the disjunction between my real-life experience of recovery and the experience I expected to have years ago, when I was at the start of the process in therapy. In short, it’s been a lot messier. In treatment, it’s commonly said that “full recovery” is possible. Treatment providers hold hope of this possibility for their patients, and patients hear the expression many times over, especially when the going is tough.

I’m of two minds about full recovery as an ideal. On the one hand, I believe wholeheartedly that a beautiful, full, and healed life after eating disorders is possible. I’ve experienced it myself: a life that is nothing like the life I could have imagined for myself when I was sick. A life that’s richer than I dared to hope for and full of freedoms that I never thought would be mine. Recovery has unlocked a relationship with food that is pleasurable and rewarding in ways I couldn’t have known were possible when I was eleven, nineteen, or twenty-four years old.

Everything I write and create nowadays is a testament to this relationship and the recovery that created it. In this sense, I hold hope every day, for myself and for others.

At the same time, my recovery is not without complexity, tension, or struggle. I’ve maintained physical health and nourishing food habits for over a decade now, but that maintenance has often felt like active work. I relish eating, but my struggle with body dysmorphia is ongoing, which can complicate my enjoyment and sense of freedom with food. I’ve learned how not to use food to “manage” or “control” my anxiety, but the impulse to control unmanageable feelings is still there, still problematic, and now that food isn’t my outlet, it shows up in other ways (rigid lifestyle routines, arbitrary rules, and hypervigilance about scheduling/time management, to name only a few).

I don’t know if “full recovery” is supposed to suggest a life that’s free of triggers, compulsions that have been rerouted, or pangs of longing for the disorder and the protection it seemed to afford. If it does, then I’m not sure my recovery, such as it is, fits.

I’ve always struggled with this question. Years ago, I asked my therapist why, if EDs were recognized as mental illnesses, the language around them seemed so much more rigid than with other mental illnesses. I’ve never heard an expression as finite-sounding as “fully recovered” when it comes to treatment of depression or anxiety, for example: my understanding is that the aim of treating both is to achieve management that affords for the best quality of life possible.

I wonder if the immediate physical dangers of eating disorders warrant a more aggressive, wholesale approach to treatment and the words we use to describe it. In addition, I’ve heard it said that one of the primary goals of recovery is to help people stop actively identifying with the disease, which would support a before/after language choice. (The opposite, I guess, of a person in AA identifying as an alcoholic whether sober for many years or not.) That makes a lot of sense to me.

Full recovery may also be more possible with EDs than with other mental illnesses because measurable behavior change is such a critical part of recovery. My recovery certainly involved a close examination of familial/psychological factors that predisposed me to anorexia. But at the end of the day, the recovery processes really resided in behavior change: eating balanced meals at regular intervals, increasing my energy intake, learning to rest, and learning to sit with uncomfortable feelings. There were also physical/biological changes—weight restoration, resumed hormone function—that amounted to a firm before and after.

Still. I know well from two relapses that one can be weight restored and abiding by healthful eating patterns without having truly made peace with food, so behavior change isn’t everything. Conversely, I’ve learned that a harmonious relationship with food can accommodate dissonance, which is something that I didn’t know in my early twenties. I believed that, once I was “fully recovered” food would be “just food” (another expression I picked up in treatment) and the struggles around it would vanish entirely, forever.

I wish I’d been better prepared for the non-linearity and ongoing surprises of recovery when I was at the start of the process. The “full recovery” ideal gave me something to strive for, and—just as I believe it’s intended to—it gave me hope. It also contributed to a problematically one-dimensional vision of recovery, a binary between “before” and “after” that couldn’t always accommodate or account for my lived experience. The irony of this is that so much of recovery is about learning to let go of binary thinking altogether, to dwell comfortably in areas of gray.

Today, having made it to the other side of a lasting recovery, I believe that full recovery is possible and that it’s complicated. I believe that recovery looks from person to person, and in spite of the benchmarks we use to define it, its true meaning is created by each individual who lives through it. Most importantly, I believe that being recovered does not mean never struggling again. It means facing struggle—less often with time, if we’re lucky—and handling it in a new, more self-loving way.

A reader and friend articulated this in a way that resonated with me. She said,

I don’t know that we are ever finished with anything. We have growth spurts and setbacks, circle back to something. I think many of us eventually get to a point where some old stuff just can’t hurt us anymore. We won’t let it. And the part that is heartening and reassuring is that we acquire ways of solving problems and dealing with things along the way so that when we find ourselves back in a bad situation that we thought we conquered, we have new ways of dealing with old problems.

If you’re in recovery now or have been recovered for some time, and you feel yourself sometimes struggling to resist the behaviors that made you feel safe for a long time, you’re not alone. Resurgence of struggle or the temptation to flirt with old habits is a part of many peoples’ process, whether publicized or not.

It’s important to use your coping tools—therapy, self-expression, art, friendship, deep breathing, being in nature, or whatever works for you—to resist those familiar, destructive behaviors. It’s also important not to feel like a “failure” if this happens. And what matters most of all is to stay the course. Recovery is every bit as non-linear as it’s said to be, but it gets richer and more beautiful the longer you stick with it.

Given the “come as you are” theme, it also feels important to say that recovery can feel idiosyncratic and personal. The way you experience might be very different from how friends you made in treatment experience it, or people you read about online experience it, or how you were told you’d experience it. The longer I work in this space, the more people I talk to about recovery, the more I realize that there is no archetypal narrative.

The part of my own recovery that registers most differently than others is how important food has remained to me. In spite of several good faith efforts to regard it as “just food”—which didn’t push my recovery forward at all—I ultimately allowed myself to accept that food will always be a big deal to me. A much bigger deal than it is to a lot of other people. The question for me became whether it could be a big deal in a way that was productive and life-giving, rather than destructive and imprisoning.

Today, years later, I can say that it is. Food is a great love of my life. I take outsized pleasure in eating and making and thinking about food. It isn’t “just food,” and it never will be. This isn’t what was advised to me in anything I read about recovery. Yet I believe with all of my heart that transforming my relationship with food, rather than diminishing it, is what has made my recovery possible.

Today, on the first day of NEDA week, I celebrate my own perfectly imperfect recovery, and I celebrate yours, too. One of the many wonderful things about writing this blog is that I’ve gotten to hear about so many recovery stories over the years: through email, conversations had in person, and the green recovery series. I’ve had a chance to witness recovery in all of its incredible, ever-unfolding complexity. I’ve learned to celebrate recovery experiences that look completely different from mine. I’ve learned how to support others in their efforts to make peace with food and their bodies on their own terms. It’s such a gift.

To anyone whose life has been touched by disordered eating: I wish you the “fullness” of recovery and of life. You are loved and supported. You can and will find your own way. It won’t always be easy, and it’s not supposed to be. But it can and will be beautiful.

Thanks for reading today and any day.

xo

[Read More ...] https://www.thefullhelping.com/neda-week-2019-come-as-you-are/

[fillypeskykitten]

Major report finds housing, education and rural transport are failing youth in 2018

Updated October 17, 2018 10:31:12 Bullying, conflict and homelessness are wreaking havoc in the lives of disadvantaged children, according to a report by the NSW Advocate for Children and Young People. Advocate Andrew Johnson surveyed almost 3,000 people aged under the age 25 about their struggles with education, employment, housing, and family violence. The major report includes perspectives from more than 2,000 rural children and young people, who also identified poor transport as a significant problem. Mr Johnson said disadvantaged youth deserved a louder voice in shaping policy, and many young people had offered ideas for positive solutions. "Children and young people have something valuable to say about what would improve their own lives," he said. Bush transport unaffordable, unreliable The report reveals poor transport is a "considerable challenge" that prevents kids in the bush getting to jobs, services and education. What young people are saying about life in 20181 in 4 young people have experienced bullying1 in 5 rural youth say their transport is not working wellThree quarters of youth feel government should improve educationOnly 3 per cent of youth say housing is "working well" in NSW A fifth of all participants said more frequent bus and train services were needed where they lived. One young woman said her options were so limited that she spent up to six hours a day commuting to and from school. The high cost of tickets was another major issue, with one rural boy saying he found himself "begging the bus driver for a ride" after being "kicked out of home late at night". Other children said they often walked long distances or resorted to hitchhiking with strangers. The report recommends solutions such as offering emergency Opal card top-ups or free driving lessons to regional children in need. Lack of affordable housing a generational crisis The report also confirms that housing is at crisis point for disadvantaged youth. It finds homelessness and couch-surfing is on the rise, especially in regional areas, and only 3 per cent of youth think the housing sector is "working well". One young man said his rent was so high he often skipped meals. "After rent is taken out, which is highly subsidised, I have no money left for the week." he said. Those in temporary accommodation spoke of long waiting lists to access sometimes dirty and dangerous emergency shelters. "My experiences of temporary accommodation were similar to that of a crack den," one teen said. Youth advocacy group Yfoundations chief executive Zoe Robinson said the growing housing shortage was pushing vulnerable youth into homelessness across the state. "Affordable housing is a constant issue because there is no affordable housing," she said. "The houses that are available are houses that no-one should live in, let alone vulnerable young people." The report suggests funding an emergency hotline that would help at-risk youth access government services by providing a one-stop shop. Family violence pushing youth onto the streets The report also highlights family violence as another trigger behind youth homelessness. Dale Foster, 28, left his home on the Hunter Valley as a teenager and lived on the streets of Sydney for more than 10 years.

Photo: Friends Owen Davis (L) and Dale Foster have recently escaped homelessness after more than a decade on the streets. (Supplied: Avani Dias) "I had a really bad upbringing, my parents drank a lot, did a lot of drugs so I was put through a lot of physical and mental abuse," he said. "I wanted to leave when I was a lot younger and I'd bring it up at school but no one took me seriously. You talk to counsellors at school but they just brush it off, they didn't. "I had to come to the big city because on the Hunter Valley, everything was for adults and there was one youth refuge but that was it." Dale Foster said he had to use public transport to reach youth services but he ended up accumulating numerous fines in the process. "There're trains and buses but without money I don't know how many thousands of dollars of fines I've racked up from being homeless and catching a train somewhere," he said. "Because I had to get to the next refuge to get more assistance, I had around $15,000 accumulated in fines and 99 per cent of that was from train fines," he said. Children demand more education, less discrimination Education was cited as a number one priority by children and young people, who saw it as their gateway to opportunity. Three quarters of those interviewed said funding better education would "improve their lives", and almost a third felt the quality of teaching should be lifted. Many children said their teachers did not help struggling students enough, and could spend more time "explaining things". The report found some children felt unwelcome at school, and negative attitudes from teachers stopped them from learning. Some spoke of encountering racism, sexism and homophobia in their classrooms or wider communities. A quarter of youth also reported bullying, ranging from schoolyard conflicts to cyber-bullying. Positive solutions for schools Despite facing challenges, disadvantaged students enjoyed learning and had positive suggestions for their schooling. A quarter wanted more "life training" in areas such as cooking and personal finances to prepare them for "how the world works". Others asked for more support for kids with different learning needs, and more flexible hours. Children in juvenile detention also raised the issue of long, unsupervised suspensions where they had "nothing to do for long periods" as a catalyst for getting into trouble with the law. The report recommends alternatives to out-of-school suspensions such as providing virtual classrooms or supervised study centres to keep at-risk students off the streets. Major findings to be delivered to government Mr Johnson said today's young people inspired him with their optimism, altruism and positive ideas for their future in the face of adversity. "They are outward looking, they are solutions focused, but primarily they are looking out for each other," he said. "And we can see from the report they come up with some very valuable suggestions about what can help them transition into a better life, what can help them get into employment." The 2018 NSW Advocate for Children and Young People's report will be officially launched tomorrow. Topics:youth,homelessness,sydney-2000,bega-2550,coffs-harbour-2450,dubbo-2830,lismore-2480,muswellbrook-2333,newcastle-2300,orange-2800,tamworth-2340,wagga-wagga-2650,wollongong-2500 First posted October 17, 2018 06:48:01 http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-10-17/nsw-advocate-youth-survey-paints-grim-picture/10383678

[gemmabetes-blog]

Fabulous & Anxious

It boggles me to think we are nearing 2018 and yet there is still such a stigma around mental illness. How so many people still believe that worrying and having anxiety are interchangeable terms. It’s something that baffles me because I have lived with and suffered from anxiety for several years, to me it is not hard to distinguish from run-of-the-mill worries, it’s not hard to see how severely it can impede someone’s everyday life, yet to many it’s something that we should just “get over”. Often I’ve found even those who claim to understand (but maybe don’t live with it) get to a point where they feel you should have “gotten over it already”. Absolutely mind-boggling.

In fact, I had been thinking about writing this post for a while, but there was a conversation - or more accurately an argument - this morning that pushed me to write an enlightening post about living with anxiety and diabetes. In short, someone asked me “what the fuck happened to you? I thought you were all good … it’s so off-putting” because I let rip at this terribly misguided person for giving me unsolicited and unwarranted “advice” about my anxiety, after I had asked not to discuss it. My anger is not off-putting, wrong or unwarranted when someone sticks their abnormally large nose in where it does not belong. I am not in favour of anyone who belittles me or insinuates that having anxiety makes me less of a person, someone “troubled”.

So, continuing with my theme of diabetic emotional-well-being, I have decided to dedicate a post to living with diabetes and anxiety, and how it has shaped my life and my mental health. The focus will be more on anxiety for this post and it is of course, all my own experiences, but I hope that it will help to illuminate what it can be like to live with anxiety and diabetes. I am hoping that for those of you in the dark about anxiety or mental health in general, may see that having anxiety does not make someone weaker, or troubled, it requires a tremendous amount of strength to live with and cope with.

To start, I’d like to bust one giant myth roaming around out there: ANXIETY IS NOT WORRYING. Anxiety is adrenaline running through the body when you don’t need it, generally speaking adrenaline kicks in for survival, it kicks in when you’re in a scary situation. But with anxiety, adrenaline is that kid from your school who turned up to your party and you definitely didn’t invite them - that kid starts smashing up your house and you’re running around after him to try and clean up and trying hard to figure out who the fuck invited this nightmare into your home, your safe space. Anxiety for me tends to present itself in nausea and dizziness, which meant that when it first started to get bad, I was stressing out because I felt so ill and I had no idea why, I was scared I’d be sick and this started up the never-ending cycle. Because the thing is, no one invited nightmare-child into your home, he turned up out of the blue and you started to stress yourself out so much trying to figure out why, that meanwhile anxiety is running rampage and building, getting worse because the stress is fuelling it. Anxiety does not need a reason to start - it can certainly be triggered - but why it’s there is not important, what IS important is that the more you give it thought and attention, the worse it gets and this is the hardest part to control.

How does this relate to diabetes then? Well it intertwines in several ways, the first way is that diabetes itself can be a trigger - if your sugars are running constantly low before you need to sleep, or if you’ve had a good day and out of nowhere your sugars have shot up to the heavens, it causes an annoying amount of stress. This stress plus the effects of the hypo/hyper itself on your body can trigger anxiety. For me, this doesn’t tend to happen too much - my diabetes is affected by my anxiety in reverse. By this I mean that when I have an anxiety attack, my diabetes is a worry for me as I feel so nauseous I can’t physically bring myself to eat, but (thankfully) often I find that anxiety and stress sends my sugars sky rocketing so I don’t actually need to eat. Of course, if one day this wasn’t the case and I needed to eat, this would be a huge struggle because although anxiety is sourced mentally, it very much affects you physically. So in essence, diabetes and anxiety create between themselves another layer of anxiety that affects both conditions and can be very difficult to manage.

I remember the first time I noticed an anxiety attack, I was about 17 and I was at a wedding - my mum told me it was anxiety, I didn’t really know what that meant and I had to leave to go to my room and sleep it off because I felt so sick. I remember meeting my friend when I was 20 and having to come home because I felt too sick, I’d been having anxiety and I cried my eyes out when I got home and realised was it was. I once called in sick to work on my second shift when I was in uni as I had such bad anxiety that day, I stayed in bed the whole day. Most recently, I had a bad anxiety attack the morning of Friday 10th November. I knew it was anxiety, but for the first time in years I was having an attack that I couldn’t control, I got into work and I was crying in the bathroom on the phone to my mum, I had to leave and sleep all day and cancel plans I had been so excited for that evening. That was the first time in a couple years that anxiety has inhibited my life significantly and in the last week or so it has taken a toll on me. I have woken up nauseous most days and have had to try to solider through the rest of the day. The attack was completely random and it hit me out of nowhere, but I suspect worrying about my sugars dropping overnight and a lack of sleep had a hand to play, it has been difficult but I am coping.

I haven’t shown this to anyone, but I took this photo after a bad attack to remind myself how awful anxiety feels and to remind myself that it ended #StillFabTho

It hasn’t been all bad though, earlier in the summer I woke up two or three mornings in a row with anxiety attacks, which I hadn’t had in a long time. I forced myself into work and told myself if I was still ill I would come back home again, and each time I was perfectly fine upon arriving at work. This was such a big celebratory moment for me as I had gone from cancelling plans and work shifts to accommodate my anxiety, to beating it without anyone’s help but my own mental determination. I have had such a good grip on it the last year or so and it is an amazing feeling, because anxiety feels like you are so far out of control that you’ll never live a normal life. I have had a wobble but I know that I will take my time and I will regain control and feel myself again soon.

I was lucky that my mum taught me how to identify anxiety from illness and has taught me some really great tips so that years on I am able to control my anxiety myself. I’m very lucky that I had that support system in place when my anxiety started to kick in because honestly it’s terrifying. One of the most commonly listed symptoms of anxiety is a feeling that you’re about to die, and it can feel like that, for me it feels more like I’ll never be okay again - a bit like an anxiety dementor for those Harry Potter fans. My point is that, it can be disabling and should not be brushed aside or passed off as “worrying”, the worrying kicks in after you’re already having an attack usually.

Anxiety is very real and it affects a LOT of people, and a lot of diabetics. The two conditions can be disabling, but the most important thing to have is a support system and to discover your own techniques. I had to learn to control my anxiety, and learn how to take care of my diabetes at the same time, by myself so that I could lead an independent, healthy and happy life. And it’s not easy, the reason anxiety attacks come with tears are because they feel so awful and lonely, but this does not make me weak. Mental health issues are arguably more difficult to cope with than physical conditions because we are not taught how to be mentally strong and healthy, and when we aren’t, it is brushed off and disregarded. But this NEEDS to change because it only hinders those struggling with mental health conditions even more so, and in fact it is my own personal belief that it takes someone strong as hell to fight through mental health conditions, the weak ones are those ignorant enough to disregard us simply because they haven’t experienced it.

Finally, to the person who called me “off-putting” this morning: Sorry not sorry pal, I’m fabulous, anxiety and diabetes included, please move along if you are too blind to see this.

#FAB

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2019: Come as You Are

Happy Monday, friends! As you probably noticed, I took a pause from weekend reading this week in order to reflect on National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Each year, I use this week as an opportunity to reflect on my own recovery and to celebrate recovery with all of you.

This year’s NEDA week theme is “Come as You Are.” To quote the National Eating Disorder Association website:

Our 2019 theme, Come as You Are, highlights NEDA’s movement towards inclusivity in the greater eating disorder community and our goal of unifying the field of eating disorders. In particular, Come as You Are sends a message to individuals at all stages of body acceptance and eating disorders recovery that their stories are valid. We invite everyone, especially those whose stories have not been widely recognized, to have the opportunity to speak out, share their experiences, and connect with others….

So this NEDAwareness Week, come as you are, not as you think you should be.

I love this message of inclusivity. A lot of work has been done in recent years to shatter the notion that eating disorders look a certain way or affect only a certain type of individual; we’re coming to recognize that size and shape don’t always reflect eating behaviors, and we’re having a dialog about the fact that EDs impact all races, communities, and gender identities.

For all of the progress we’ve made, we still have a long way to go. In my private counseling practice, where I work with many people who identify as recovered or recovering, I continually hear invalidations of the struggle. “I was never really underweight,” people tell me as a means of explaining why they didn’t seek help sooner. “I didn’t lose my period.” “I only binged every now and then.” And so on. The shadow of a single, popularized eating disorder narrative/stereotype discourages a lot of people who need help from actively seeking it out. It’s time to change that.

I’m having my own reflections on the 2019 theme. I’m thinking about “come as you are” not as it pertains to ED treatment or seeking help, but rather as it pertains to recovery itself.

In the fall, when my DI peers and I had our ED-themed class, it got me thinking about the disjunction between my real-life experience of recovery and the experience I expected to have years ago, when I was at the start of the process in therapy. In short, it’s been a lot messier. In treatment, it’s commonly said that “full recovery” is possible. Treatment providers hold hope of this possibility for their patients, and patients hear the expression many times over, especially when the going is tough.

I’m of two minds about full recovery as an ideal. On the one hand, I believe wholeheartedly that a beautiful, full, and healed life after eating disorders is possible. I’ve experienced it myself: a life that is nothing like the life I could have imagined for myself when I was sick. A life that’s richer than I dared to hope for and full of freedoms that I never thought would be mine. Recovery has unlocked a relationship with food that is pleasurable and rewarding in ways I couldn’t have known were possible when I was eleven, nineteen, or twenty-four years old.

Everything I write and create nowadays is a testament to this relationship and the recovery that created it. In this sense, I hold hope every day, for myself and for others.

At the same time, my recovery is not without complexity, tension, or struggle. I’ve maintained physical health and nourishing food habits for over a decade now, but that maintenance has often felt like active work. I relish eating, but my struggle with body dysmorphia is ongoing, which can complicate my enjoyment and sense of freedom with food. I’ve learned how not to use food to “manage” or “control” my anxiety, but the impulse to control unmanageable feelings is still there, still problematic, and now that food isn’t my outlet, it shows up in other ways (rigid lifestyle routines, arbitrary rules, and hypervigilance about scheduling/time management, to name only a few).

I don’t know if “full recovery” is supposed to suggest a life that’s free of triggers, compulsions that have been rerouted, or pangs of longing for the disorder and the protection it seemed to afford. If it does, then I’m not sure my recovery, such as it is, fits.

I’ve always struggled with this question. Years ago, I asked my therapist why, if EDs were recognized as mental illnesses, the language around them seemed so much more rigid than with other mental illnesses. I’ve never heard an expression as finite-sounding as “fully recovered” when it comes to treatment of depression or anxiety, for example: my understanding is that the aim of treating both is to achieve management that affords for the best quality of life possible.

I wonder if the immediate physical dangers of eating disorders warrant a more aggressive, wholesale approach to treatment and the words we use to describe it. In addition, I’ve heard it said that one of the primary goals of recovery is to help people stop actively identifying with the disease, which would support a before/after language choice. (The opposite, I guess, of a person in AA identifying as an alcoholic whether sober for many years or not.) That makes a lot of sense to me.

Full recovery may also be more possible with EDs than with other mental illnesses because measurable behavior change is such a critical part of recovery. My recovery certainly involved a close examination of familial/psychological factors that predisposed me to anorexia. But at the end of the day, the recovery processes really resided in behavior change: eating balanced meals at regular intervals, increasing my energy intake, learning to rest, and learning to sit with uncomfortable feelings. There were also physical/biological changes—weight restoration, resumed hormone function—that amounted to a firm before and after.

Still. I know well from two relapses that one can be weight restored and abiding by healthful eating patterns without having truly made peace with food, so behavior change isn’t everything. Conversely, I’ve learned that a harmonious relationship with food can accommodate dissonance, which is something that I didn’t know in my early twenties. I believed that, once I was “fully recovered” food would be “just food” (another expression I picked up in treatment) and the struggles around it would vanish entirely, forever.

I wish I’d been better prepared for the non-linearity and ongoing surprises of recovery when I was at the start of the process. The “full recovery” ideal gave me something to strive for, and—just as I believe it’s intended to—it gave me hope. It also contributed to a problematically one-dimensional vision of recovery, a binary between “before” and “after” that couldn’t always accommodate or account for my lived experience. The irony of this is that so much of recovery is about learning to let go of binary thinking altogether, to dwell comfortably in areas of gray.

Today, having made it to the other side of a lasting recovery, I believe that full recovery is possible and that it’s complicated. I believe that recovery looks from person to person, and in spite of the benchmarks we use to define it, its true meaning is created by each individual who lives through it. Most importantly, I believe that being recovered does not mean never struggling again. It means facing struggle—less often with time, if we’re lucky—and handling it in a new, more self-loving way.

A reader and friend articulated this in a way that resonated with me. She said,

I don’t know that we are ever finished with anything. We have growth spurts and setbacks, circle back to something. I think many of us eventually get to a point where some old stuff just can’t hurt us anymore. We won’t let it. And the part that is heartening and reassuring is that we acquire ways of solving problems and dealing with things along the way so that when we find ourselves back in a bad situation that we thought we conquered, we have new ways of dealing with old problems.

If you’re in recovery now or have been recovered for some time, and you feel yourself sometimes struggling to resist the behaviors that made you feel safe for a long time, you’re not alone. Resurgence of struggle or the temptation to flirt with old habits is a part of many peoples’ process, whether publicized or not.

It’s important to use your coping tools—therapy, self-expression, art, friendship, deep breathing, being in nature, or whatever works for you—to resist those familiar, destructive behaviors. It’s also important not to feel like a “failure” if this happens. And what matters most of all is to stay the course. Recovery is every bit as non-linear as it’s said to be, but it gets richer and more beautiful the longer you stick with it.

Given the “come as you are” theme, it also feels important to say that recovery can feel idiosyncratic and personal. The way you experience might be very different from how friends you made in treatment experience it, or people you read about online experience it, or how you were told you’d experience it. The longer I work in this space, the more people I talk to about recovery, the more I realize that there is no archetypal narrative.

The part of my own recovery that registers most differently than others is how important food has remained to me. In spite of several good faith efforts to regard it as “just food”—which didn’t push my recovery forward at all—I ultimately allowed myself to accept that food will always be a big deal to me. A much bigger deal than it is to a lot of other people. The question for me became whether it could be a big deal in a way that was productive and life-giving, rather than destructive and imprisoning.

Today, years later, I can say that it is. Food is a great love of my life. I take outsized pleasure in eating and making and thinking about food. It isn’t “just food,” and it never will be. This isn’t what was advised to me in anything I read about recovery. Yet I believe with all of my heart that transforming my relationship with food, rather than diminishing it, is what has made my recovery possible.

Today, on the first day of NEDA week, I celebrate my own perfectly imperfect recovery, and I celebrate yours, too. One of the many wonderful things about writing this blog is that I’ve gotten to hear about so many recovery stories over the years: through email, conversations had in person, and the green recovery series. I’ve had a chance to witness recovery in all of its incredible, ever-unfolding complexity. I’ve learned to celebrate recovery experiences that look completely different from mine. I’ve learned how to support others in their efforts to make peace with food and their bodies on their own terms. It’s such a gift.

To anyone whose life has been touched by disordered eating: I wish you the “fullness” of recovery and of life. You are loved and supported. You can and will find your own way. It won’t always be easy, and it’s not supposed to be. But it can and will be beautiful.

Thanks for reading today and any day.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2019: Come as You Are appeared first on The Full Helping.

NEDA Week 2019: Come as You Are published first on

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2.25.19: Come as You Are

Happy Monday, friends! As you probably noticed, I took a pause from weekend reading this week in order to reflect on National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Each year, I use this week as an opportunity to reflect on my own recovery and to celebrate recovery with all of you.

This year’s NEDA week theme is “Come as You Are.” To quote the National Eating Disorder Association website:

Our 2019 theme, Come as You Are, highlights NEDA’s movement towards inclusivity in the greater eating disorder community and our goal of unifying the field of eating disorders. In particular, Come as You Are sends a message to individuals at all stages of body acceptance and eating disorders recovery that their stories are valid. We invite everyone, especially those whose stories have not been widely recognized, to have the opportunity to speak out, share their experiences, and connect with others….

So this NEDAwareness Week, come as you are, not as you think you should be.

I love this message of inclusivity. A lot of work has been done in recent years to shatter the notion that eating disorders look a certain way or affect only a certain type of individual; we’re coming to recognize that size and shape don’t always reflect eating behaviors, and we’re having a dialog about the fact that EDs impact all races, communities, and gender identities.

For all of the progress we’ve made, we still have a long way to go. In my private counseling practice, where I work with many people who identify as recovered or recovering, I continually hear invalidations of the struggle. “I was never really underweight,” people tell me as a means of explaining why they didn’t seek help sooner. “I didn’t lose my period.” “I only binged every now and then.” And so on. The shadow of a single, popularized eating disorder narrative/stereotype discourages a lot of people who need help from actively seeking it out. It’s time to change that.

I’m having my own reflections on the 2019 theme. I’m thinking about “come as you are” not as it pertains to ED treatment or seeking help, but rather as it pertains to recovery itself.

In the fall, when my DI peers and I had our ED-themed class, it got me thinking about the disjunction between my real-life experience of recovery and the experience I expected to have years ago, when I was at the start of the process in therapy. In short, it’s been a lot messier. In treatment, it’s commonly said that “full recovery” is possible. Treatment providers hold hope of this possibility for their patients, and patients hear the expression many times over, especially when the going is tough.

I’m of two minds about full recovery as an ideal. On the one hand, I believe wholeheartedly that a beautiful, full, and healed life after eating disorders is possible. I’ve experienced it myself: a life that is nothing like the life I could have imagined for myself when I was sick. A life that’s richer than I dared to hope for and full of freedoms that I never thought would be mine. Recovery has unlocked a relationship with food that is pleasurable and rewarding in ways I couldn’t have known were possible when I was eleven, nineteen, or twenty-four years old.

Everything I write and create nowadays is a testament to this relationship and the recovery that created it. In this sense, I hold hope every day, for myself and for others.

At the same time, my recovery is not without complexity, tension, or struggle. I’ve maintained physical health and nourishing food habits for over a decade now, but that maintenance has often felt like active work. I relish eating, but my struggle with body dysmorphia is ongoing, which can complicate my enjoyment and sense of freedom with food. I’ve learned how not to use food to “manage” or “control” my anxiety, but the impulse to control unmanageable feelings is still there, still problematic, and now that food isn’t my outlet, it shows up in other ways (rigid lifestyle routines, arbitrary rules, and hypervigilance about scheduling/time management, to name only a few).

I don’t know if “full recovery” is supposed to suggest a life that’s free of triggers, compulsions that have been rerouted, or pangs of longing for the disorder and the protection it seemed to afford. If it does, then I’m not sure my recovery, such as it is, fits.

I’ve always struggled with this question. Years ago, I asked my therapist why, if EDs were recognized as mental illnesses, the language around them seemed so much more rigid than with other mental illnesses. I’ve never heard an expression as finite-sounding as “fully recovered” when it comes to treatment of depression or anxiety, for example: my understanding is that the aim of treating both is to achieve management that affords for the best quality of life possible.

I wonder if the immediate physical dangers of eating disorders warrant a more aggressive, wholesale approach to treatment and the words we use to describe it. In addition, I’ve heard it said that one of the primary goals of recovery is to help people stop actively identifying with the disease, which would support a before/after language choice. (The opposite, I guess, of a person in AA identifying as an alcoholic whether sober for many years or not.) That makes a lot of sense to me.

Full recovery may also be more possible with EDs than with other mental illnesses because measurable behavior change is such a critical part of recovery. My recovery certainly involved a close examination of familial/psychological factors that predisposed me to anorexia. But at the end of the day, the recovery processes really resided in behavior change: eating balanced meals at regular intervals, increasing my energy intake, learning to rest, and learning to sit with uncomfortable feelings. There were also physical/biological changes—weight restoration, resumed hormone function—that amounted to a firm before and after.

Still. I know well from two relapses that one can be weight restored and abiding by healthful eating patterns without having truly made peace with food, so behavior change isn’t everything. Conversely, I’ve learned that a harmonious relationship with food can accommodate dissonance, which is something that I didn’t know in my early twenties. I believed that, once I was “fully recovered” food would be “just food” (another expression I picked up in treatment) and the struggles around it would vanish entirely, forever.

I wish I’d been better prepared for the non-linearity and ongoing surprises of recovery when I was at the start of the process. The “full recovery” ideal gave me something to strive for, and—just as I believe it’s intended to—it gave me hope. It also contributed to a problematically one-dimensional vision of recovery, a binary between “before” and “after” that couldn’t always accommodate or account for my lived experience. The irony of this is that so much of recovery is about learning to let go of binary thinking altogether, to dwell comfortably in areas of gray.

Today, having made it to the other side of a lasting recovery, I believe that full recovery is possible and that it’s complicated. I believe that recovery looks from person to person, and in spite of the benchmarks we use to define it, its true meaning is created by each individual who lives through it. Most importantly, I believe that being recovered does not mean never struggling again. It means facing struggle—less often with time, if we’re lucky—and handling it in a new, more self-loving way.

A reader and friend articulated this in a way that resonated with me. She said,

I don’t know that we are ever finished with anything. We have growth spurts and setbacks, circle back to something. I think many of us eventually get to a point where some old stuff just can’t hurt us anymore. We won’t let it. And the part that is heartening and reassuring is that we acquire ways of solving problems and dealing with things along the way so that when we find ourselves back in a bad situation that we thought we conquered, we have new ways of dealing with old problems.

If you’re in recovery now or have been recovered for some time, and you feel yourself sometimes struggling to resist the behaviors that made you feel safe for a long time, you’re not alone. Resurgence of struggle or the temptation to flirt with old habits is a part of many peoples’ process, whether publicized or not.

It’s important to use your coping tools—therapy, self-expression, art, friendship, deep breathing, being in nature, or whatever works for you—to resist those familiar, destructive behaviors. It’s also important not to feel like a “failure” if this happens. And what matters most of all is to stay the course. Recovery is every bit as non-linear as it’s said to be, but it gets richer and more beautiful the longer you stick with it.

Given the “come as you are” theme, it also feels important to say that recovery can feel idiosyncratic and personal. The way you experience might be very different from how friends you made in treatment experience it, or people you read about online experience it, or how you were told you’d experience it. The longer I work in this space, the more people I talk to about recovery, the more I realize that there is no archetypal narrative.

The part of my own recovery that registers most differently than others is how important food has remained to me. In spite of several good faith efforts to regard it as “just food”—which didn’t push my recovery forward at all—I ultimately allowed myself to accept that food will always be a big deal to me. A much bigger deal than it is to a lot of other people. The question for me became whether it could be a big deal in a way that was productive and life-giving, rather than destructive and imprisoning.

Today, years later, I can say that it is. Food is a great love of my life. I take outsized pleasure in eating and making and thinking about food. It isn’t “just food,” and it never will be. This isn’t what was advised to me in anything I read about recovery. Yet I believe with all of my heart that transforming my relationship with food, rather than diminishing it, is what has made my recovery possible.

Today, on the first day of NEDA week, I celebrate my own perfectly imperfect recovery, and I celebrate yours, too. One of the many wonderful things about writing this blog is that I’ve gotten to hear about so many recovery stories over the years: through email, conversations had in person, and the green recovery series. I’ve had a chance to witness recovery in all of its incredible, ever-unfolding complexity. I’ve learned to celebrate recovery experiences that look completely different from mine. I’ve learned how to support others in their efforts to make peace with food and their bodies on their own terms. It’s such a gift.

To anyone whose life has been touched by disordered eating: I wish you the “fullness” of recovery and of life. You are loved and supported. You can and will find your own way. It won’t always be easy, and it’s not supposed to be. But it can and will be beautiful.

Thanks for reading today and any day.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2.25.19: Come as You Are appeared first on The Full Helping.

NEDA Week 2.25.19: Come as You Are published first on

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2.25.19: Come as You Are

Happy Monday, friends! As you probably noticed, I took a pause from weekend reading this week in order to reflect on National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Each year, I use this week as an opportunity to reflect on my own recovery and to celebrate recovery with all of you.

This year’s NEDA week theme is “Come as You Are.” To quote the National Eating Disorder Association website:

Our 2019 theme, Come as You Are, highlights NEDA’s movement towards inclusivity in the greater eating disorder community and our goal of unifying the field of eating disorders. In particular, Come as You Are sends a message to individuals at all stages of body acceptance and eating disorders recovery that their stories are valid. We invite everyone, especially those whose stories have not been widely recognized, to have the opportunity to speak out, share their experiences, and connect with others….

So this NEDAwareness Week, come as you are, not as you think you should be.

I love this message of inclusivity. A lot of work has been done in recent years to shatter the notion that eating disorders look a certain way or affect only a certain type of individual; we’re coming to recognize that size and shape don’t always reflect eating behaviors, and we’re having a dialog about the fact that EDs impact all races, communities, and gender identities.

For all of the progress we’ve made, we still have a long way to go. In my private counseling practice, where I work with many people who identify as recovered or recovering, I continually hear invalidations of the struggle. “I was never really underweight,” people tell me as a means of explaining why they didn’t seek help sooner. “I didn’t lose my period.” “I only binged every now and then.” And so on. The shadow of a single, popularized eating disorder narrative/stereotype discourages a lot of people who need help from actively seeking it out. It’s time to change that.

I’m having my own reflections on the 2019 theme. I’m thinking about “come as you are” not as it pertains to ED treatment or seeking help, but rather as it pertains to recovery itself.

In the fall, when my DI peers and I had our ED-themed class, it got me thinking about the disjunction between my real-life experience of recovery and the experience I expected to have years ago, when I was at the start of the process in therapy. In short, it’s been a lot messier. In treatment, it’s commonly said that “full recovery” is possible. Treatment providers hold hope of this possibility for their patients, and patients hear the expression many times over, especially when the going is tough.

I’m of two minds about full recovery as an ideal. On the one hand, I believe wholeheartedly that a beautiful, full, and healed life after eating disorders is possible. I’ve experienced it myself: a life that is nothing like the life I could have imagined for myself when I was sick. A life that’s richer than I dared to hope for and full of freedoms that I never thought would be mine. Recovery has unlocked a relationship with food that is pleasurable and rewarding in ways I couldn’t have known were possible when I was eleven, nineteen, or twenty-four years old.

Everything I write and create nowadays is a testament to this relationship and the recovery that created it. In this sense, I hold hope every day, for myself and for others.

At the same time, my recovery is not without complexity, tension, or struggle. I’ve maintained physical health and nourishing food habits for over a decade now, but that maintenance has often felt like active work. I relish eating, but my struggle with body dysmorphia is ongoing, which can complicate my enjoyment and sense of freedom with food. I’ve learned how not to use food to “manage” or “control” my anxiety, but the impulse to control unmanageable feelings is still there, still problematic, and now that food isn’t my outlet, it shows up in other ways (rigid lifestyle routines, arbitrary rules, and hypervigilance about scheduling/time management, to name only a few).

I don’t know if “full recovery” is supposed to suggest a life that’s free of triggers, compulsions that have been rerouted, or pangs of longing for the disorder and the protection it seemed to afford. If it does, then I’m not sure my recovery, such as it is, fits.

I’ve always struggled with this question. Years ago, I asked my therapist why, if EDs were recognized as mental illnesses, the language around them seemed so much more rigid than with other mental illnesses. I’ve never heard an expression as finite-sounding as “fully recovered” when it comes to treatment of depression or anxiety, for example: my understanding is that the aim of treating both is to achieve management that affords for the best quality of life possible.

I wonder if the immediate physical dangers of eating disorders warrant a more aggressive, wholesale approach to treatment and the words we use to describe it. In addition, I’ve heard it said that one of the primary goals of recovery is to help people stop actively identifying with the disease, which would support a before/after language choice. (The opposite, I guess, of a person in AA identifying as an alcoholic whether sober for many years or not.) That makes a lot of sense to me.

Full recovery may also be more possible with EDs than with other mental illnesses because measurable behavior change is such a critical part of recovery. My recovery certainly involved a close examination of familial/psychological factors that predisposed me to anorexia. But at the end of the day, the recovery processes really resided in behavior change: eating balanced meals at regular intervals, increasing my energy intake, learning to rest, and learning to sit with uncomfortable feelings. There were also physical/biological changes—weight restoration, resumed hormone function—that amounted to a firm before and after.

Still. I know well from two relapses that one can be weight restored and abiding by healthful eating patterns without having truly made peace with food, so behavior change isn’t everything. Conversely, I’ve learned that a harmonious relationship with food can accommodate dissonance, which is something that I didn’t know in my early twenties. I believed that, once I was “fully recovered” food would be “just food” (another expression I picked up in treatment) and the struggles around it would vanish entirely, forever.

I wish I’d been better prepared for the non-linearity and ongoing surprises of recovery when I was at the start of the process. The “full recovery” ideal gave me something to strive for, and—just as I believe it’s intended to—it gave me hope. It also contributed to a problematically one-dimensional vision of recovery, a binary between “before” and “after” that couldn’t always accommodate or account for my lived experience. The irony of this is that so much of recovery is about learning to let go of binary thinking altogether, to dwell comfortably in areas of gray.

Today, having made it to the other side of a lasting recovery, I believe that full recovery is possible and that it’s complicated. I believe that recovery looks from person to person, and in spite of the benchmarks we use to define it, its true meaning is created by each individual who lives through it. Most importantly, I believe that being recovered does not mean never struggling again. It means facing struggle—less often with time, if we’re lucky—and handling it in a new, more self-loving way.

A reader and friend articulated this in a way that resonated with me. She said,

I don’t know that we are ever finished with anything. We have growth spurts and setbacks, circle back to something. I think many of us eventually get to a point where some old stuff just can’t hurt us anymore. We won’t let it. And the part that is heartening and reassuring is that we acquire ways of solving problems and dealing with things along the way so that when we find ourselves back in a bad situation that we thought we conquered, we have new ways of dealing with old problems.

If you’re in recovery now or have been recovered for some time, and you feel yourself sometimes struggling to resist the behaviors that made you feel safe for a long time, you’re not alone. Resurgence of struggle or the temptation to flirt with old habits is a part of many peoples’ process, whether publicized or not.

It’s important to use your coping tools—therapy, self-expression, art, friendship, deep breathing, being in nature, or whatever works for you—to resist those familiar, destructive behaviors. It’s also important not to feel like a “failure” if this happens. And what matters most of all is to stay the course. Recovery is every bit as non-linear as it’s said to be, but it gets richer and more beautiful the longer you stick with it.

Given the “come as you are” theme, it also feels important to say that recovery can feel idiosyncratic and personal. The way you experience might be very different from how friends you made in treatment experience it, or people you read about online experience it, or how you were told you’d experience it. The longer I work in this space, the more people I talk to about recovery, the more I realize that there is no archetypal narrative.

The part of my own recovery that registers most differently than others is how important food has remained to me. In spite of several good faith efforts to regard it as “just food”—which didn’t push my recovery forward at all—I ultimately allowed myself to accept that food will always be a big deal to me. A much bigger deal than it is to a lot of other people. The question for me became whether it could be a big deal in a way that was productive and life-giving, rather than destructive and imprisoning.

Today, years later, I can say that it is. Food is a great love of my life. I take outsized pleasure in eating and making and thinking about food. It isn’t “just food,” and it never will be. This isn’t what was advised to me in anything I read about recovery. Yet I believe with all of my heart that transforming my relationship with food, rather than diminishing it, is what has made my recovery possible.

Today, on the first day of NEDA week, I celebrate my own perfectly imperfect recovery, and I celebrate yours, too. One of the many wonderful things about writing this blog is that I’ve gotten to hear about so many recovery stories over the years: through email, conversations had in person, and the green recovery series. I��ve had a chance to witness recovery in all of its incredible, ever-unfolding complexity. I’ve learned to celebrate recovery experiences that look completely different from mine. I’ve learned how to support others in their efforts to make peace with food and their bodies on their own terms. It’s such a gift.

To anyone whose life has been touched by disordered eating: I wish you the “fullness” of recovery and of life. You are loved and supported. You can and will find your own way. It won’t always be easy, and it’s not supposed to be. But it can and will be beautiful.

Thanks for reading today and any day.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2.25.19: Come as You Are appeared first on The Full Helping.

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