#I'm literally so fucking scared of the recovery and I'm worried I'll be in so much pain every single day until it heals fully.

[iero]

The closer my wisdom teeth surgery date gets (It's in a week from today), the more nervous I fucking get. A surgery that is usually for late teens/early 20 year olds has become one of the most nerve wracking things anticipated in a long time.

[xb0rder-7inex]

It literally disgusts me to think of crying over him after all that happened so sitting with the anxiety is my only option and sometimes unbearable. I worry I will fall back into that weakness but I will try my hardest not to let myself. I hate being borderline because I never know if feeling fine is a true recovery or just the cycle.

I'm not thinking about kms anymore and that's a huge improvement because I was suic*dal for six weeks. And I attempted and it failed and I felt the same way for two days afterwards for not being successful and then I just didn't feel that way anymore. I started looking at my life as something to grow into, and putting less focus on what I'm losing. I'm honestly feeling kind of weird about adding him back again after this. I might do it and just not react to him at all and see what he does. I feel like it's just going to be a lot of blocking right now and that he has no intentions of trying to see me. It is a lot of emotional abuse just like the last time.

I think if he ever wants me to love him again he's going to have to try harder. My circumstances are so different this time. I'm doing it all alone and literally have nothing left to lose lmao. Which kind of gives me an upper hand emotionally.

I'm scared but I get to build something that's mine. I really don't think I'll be blocked long but knowing I have bigger things to focus on and a routine to keep me occupied makes it okay anyway.

I'm just going to post here every time I have a feeling instead of wasting my energy splitting on him because it's not worth the reactive abuse.

I like that I'm doing it alone because I'm not being influenced by anything anybody is telling me. It's filtered directly into what he's showing me and I have no idea why he's having a tantrum and trying to be really emotionally controlling but I imagine it's because he's frustrated even though he's literally the one who put us in this position lol.

I'm going to keep documenting because court is months away and it isn't over until it's over lol. I'm not putting labels on him at all this time because I don't need to scare myself like that. He just has very toxic and abusive traits that he doesn't seem to be willing to change. And that's a yikes for me. Because how much fucking character development have I done in the last six months. Very steady therapy every single week, and I started a mood stabilizer this year. The fact that I'm not even reacting to him blocking me is a huge win.

I truly am just shocked that after everything he didn't change one single little bit at all. Truly taken aback. To know I lost everything and tried to kill myself and to not care is really gross.

I'm not even trauma bonded anymore I don't think. All I feel is anxiety and I think that's normal. I'm not even sad lol. I'm a little bit angry but not enough to split on him. Disappointed but not surprised? Yep.

The peace feels strange after a year and a half of chaos. It's the mood stabilizer for sure. If it's working for me like this to keep my emotions actually level for once then this drug is going to change my life because I can separate my real feelings from my borderline feelings 😭

If I can remain unreactive to him then I will have become the woman I've always wanted to fucking be. I've never ever been a woman who didn't react. I'd love to be that woman.

I'm still not overly optimistic three days after my attempt, my life is still pretty bland and boring, but for the first time maybe ever I feel like my emotions are moving in a straight line and that really excites me because I can trust a feeling that lasts.

There is a downside to that in that it manifested itself in darkness first because I had never felt so heavily depressed and that stable at the same time. So I knew I WAS ready to kms because that feeling didn't waver for six weeks. It's been two full days that I've felt neutral about this decision and I feel like I can probably trust this feeling too.

That day was obviously ridiculously traumatizing but it changed something in me. I am having some pretty intense PTSD flashbacks which are extremely uncomfortable so I try to repress it and Ive always been pretty good at deleting memories so it's working lol. I only remember it when I have flashbacks now which I know will subside eventually. I'm not ready to talk about it and I don't know that I ever will be I think that's something I probably want to keep to myself because it was so real, so so real. Just so impulsive but so so ready to go.

I also just remembered that that's the last time I reacted to him blocking me. The last time I reacted, I tried to kms, and then I got out of the hospital and I stopped reacting to him blocking me. I stopped swearing at him. I truly and genuinely stopped caring. And what an odd feeling. To have gone from loving someone so much like that to truly feeling nothing for them at all.

I'm going to continue to journal here as much as I need to in order to cope with the anxiety. I'm not even forcing myself to say that I don't love him or don't miss him. He is abusing me right now and all I can control is how I react to it.

My goal is calmness. To be neutral. To be unattached and mindful.

[eurynome827]

It's Gonna Be Okay

This is dedicated to the amazing Smut Hub server for all of the laughs and support and friendship you have offered me. I'm truly grateful. Thank you for offering a place for me to say "I just got the literal dumbest fucking idea" and receive nothing but encouragement in return.

Inspired by the photo post from the Fresh set that just hit this hellsite. The Devil works fast but I work faster.

Nurse!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: fear of needles, fear in general, cute Bucky - inspired in part by my own vaccine experience. Get the shot, and keep social distancing and wearing your mask. My blogs are 18+ spaces always.

You giggled to yourself, a little delirious as you followed the directions through the queue. Scared of what you'd lived through, scared of what was coming, but hoping to suck it up and be strong.

At the end of the queue you were directed to your station, and the man in the scrubs turned in your direction. You could tell he had a big smile under his mask. For a moment you forgot everything that lead you to this point, but then you saw the syringe and felt your body tense up.

"Hi, I'm Bucky!" He was cheerful, calming, and he took your hand to bring you the last few steps to the chair. "What's your name?"

You mumbled it, and he leaned a little closer and asked you to repeat it and oh wow he smells so good but wait, wait needle Oh God ....

Repeating your name in a louder voice, edged in panic, you felt yourself squeezing Bucky's hand a little as he helped you sit. "Are you scared of needles?" He asked softly.

"Y-yes." You nodded, looking up into his eyes. So blue, gosh he was so handsome - you'd never been attracted and scared at the same time!

"Don't worry, I got you." He smiled, and picked up your other hand, swinging your arms with his lightly. "It's gonna be okay. Let's loosen up - loosey goosey, right? Nice and calm."

Your smile was back under your mask, a little giggle escaping. "Okay, Bucky."

"Now tell me, once this is done, what's the first thing you wanna do? Where do you wanna go?"

In some part of your mind you knew he was trying to distract you. Vaguely aware of the cold and wet alcohol swab on your upper arm, you were still able to focus on his question, looking only at him as you answered. "There's this bar by my apartment and I haven't been there in a year. It's a rooftop bar and you can see the skyline and I miss it so much." You described it a little more, mentioning the name, getting lost in the memories and the look of concentration on his face before you felt a pinch. It was over before you knew it, and you glanced at your arm as Bucky carefully placed the bandaid. He caught your eye, giving you a wink, and took your hands again to help you stand.

"Okay, doll," he squeezes your hands and you caught your breath, "you're all set." He explained where to go to sit for the 15 minute waiting period. "And I know that place - I live right by there."

"You do? We're neighbors?"

"Yeah! Maybe I'll find you there soon, and we can chat without me stabbing you in your arm."

You laughed, reluctant to let go of his hands and walk away. "I'd like that, Bucky. Thanks for taking care of me."

"It was my pleasure," he waved as you backed away, turning to greet his next patient and you drifted on a cloud to the recovery area.

Maybe the world was getting better...

[smol-and-grumpy]

So listen.

Im gonna tell you this because I DO understand because I'm doing the same thing right now. And we may not know each other but this is important.

First off, NEVER apologize for going through a hard time. Fuck the bitches who make you feel that way. Your feelings are 100% valid no matter what they are. What your going through is as well. And honestly, you literally have nothing to apologize for. You are struggling and that is okay and it is important and it is understandable and it is valid. So don't add on the extra stress of hurting other people because of your own pain. I guarantee you that almost nobody is upset with you and the people who are are dumbass childish mother fuckers who need to pull it together. So don't worry about them. Because it will only give you more pain, pain that you do not deserve to have in the first place. And Im sorry that you do.

Second. I know what it's like to need people but push them away. I get it. And I'm doing it right now. I have abandonment issues. But what people don't understand is that we don't just get attached and stay attached. We get attached to someone and then we pull away because we're afraid of the what ifs. What if they leave? What if Im to much? And those what ifs aren't just applying to people like me, they apply to everyone, they're applying to you. And I'm telling you, knock those little shits the fuck out because they ruin everything. They're making you doubt, making you feel as if your burdening people. But when the people in your life decided to stay, they had to take you for all you were. The good and bad. And right now, you are struggling and thats okay, but you have to reach out. If you don't try, no matter how much you want to get better, you will not. And I'm saying this because I know and I understand because I do it every single goddamn day and it is destructive behavior but it's still not your fault. And I know that you don't believe me and I know that your worried and scared but I need you to try. Dean needs you to try. Jensen needs you to try. Your friends need you to try. Your family needs you to try. You need you to try. But if your to scared to do it right now, I understand but I know that you can do it. I have all the faith in the world in you. People are there for you, and they want you to talk to them, they're waiting, but you just have to take the first step. And it's hard and difficult but you CAN do this. Say it, I CAN do this. I believe that you will, even if it's when you've hit rock bottom, but you know what, the only way left to go is up. And people will be there to help to help you up, but you have to reach out, you havemto communicate. It's fucking hard and it's fucking scary but it's so worth it. So please try. It doesn't have to be today and it doesn't have to be tomorrow, just try whenever your able. Do it on your own time. Because that's the most important.

Lastly, take a break. You've been releasing new content like crazy. And that's awesome, but not if your not feeling that joy. You need to put you first and if that means taking a break so be it. I know that you'll probably get some hate and that'll be painful and degrading but I also know that you will be showered with love. You know why, because people do care about you. They do. I wouldn't be doing this right now if I didn't. So please, just take a break. If only for a day. You need to prioritize your priorities and your priority is you. Always has been always will be. And if you do decide to take a break, I'll be waiting, as I'm sure other people will be to. I don't want you to continue to post new content if your not feeling it. It's just not the same, you should be able to enjoy this, not have it stress you out. So take a break for a lil. See how it makes you feel then go from there. But just know, that I support you no matter what you decide.

All in all. Take care of you. Prioritize you. And try, please try to talk to someone. People love you and they want to listen. You are so important to me, to your followers, your family, your friends and we all love you endlessly and we want you to feel better. We want you to not feel like your burdening everyone because your not. Your not honey, you really not. But it doesn't matter how many times I say it, you have to believe it yourself before anyone can do you any good at all.

I'm sorry that your going through this.

I'm sorry your hurting so much.

I'm here

I understand

And I'll listen.

I love you.

Wow. You really made me tear up reading this. Thank you so much. It really did help hearing your words.

And I know I should maybe reach out but my anxiety ridden brain says that they won’t care now, and yeah, throw in fear of being rejected and not getting an answer is right there and that’s holding me back from reaching out. It’s a vicious circle.

(I totally just had to make that gif because I couldn’t find it anywhere)

The thing with content is, that writing is one of my coping mechanism (next to apparently, crying). So if I really want to get away from it all, I’ll lose myself in the world I create. I guess that’s a win win for us.

This whole road to recovery is a process but I’m trying to get better ❤️

[dyker-farmer]

More bro fic.... angst fodder kind content.

Take that can away if you can

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event- not 10, jesus-, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

I also put it on Ao3.

[[MORE]]

A bitch bastard man and a bitch walk into a room... Chapter 1/2/3/4

"I think we should talk about this."

If the room was stifled before, this just causes the pin to drop, and the relative lull to shatter with it. I don't want a storm, but we can't pretend the sea's a slightly oversized pond if we want him not drowning in it- again, my mind supplies, unhelpful.

He's zoning out again, blurry eyes pointedly off me, preferring the turned-off TV.

Let's start easy. "Why did you come here, Shane?"

"I-I-" It sounds like an excuse building up and it bubbles out like a shaken can, "I don't- I shouldn't have-" he goes to up and leave, and we just can't have that.

I scrape my chair closer and grab his shoulder, same as before. Hopefully it's more placating than caging. "No, you should have. You did good. Seeking out, remember?"

He doesn't answer but stills.

"Like Dr.Campbell and Harvey said." I try again.

"Yeah… Yeah." Deep breathing. "I. Don't know." He searches for my face, not quite past the nose. I nod, ushering him on. "It's. Stupid." I frown and my eyebrow goes higher than before and he immediately doubles down. "I know- positiv' reinforchment and all that shit! But… It's hard." A tired hand wipes the most of moisture off his face, before it goes back to wriggle with the other on his lap. "It's so fuckin' hard. Didn't even last two seasons!-"

I cut him off. "Two seasons is a lot! One and a half too. Last time, you'd tried to go cold turkey on the spot. We know what that got us." Sea foam in the mouth and a shared cold in the early spring, on top of a Joja lawsuit. "Shit's hard, like you said. You lasted one and a half this time. Next time-"

"Why the fuck do you always think there's gonna be a next time."

This time, I still. My laidback demeanor mirror his, but so does the cold anger creeping in and tensing both our backs.

"Because. There is going to be a next time. And another after that. And another. Same way there's been next times before this one now."

What's left unsaid we don't touch.

All irritation floods from him like it's just pointless to keep it in anymore, and his forehead goes to thunk softly against the wooden surface he leaned on before. The table muffles his next words a little.

"I can't… keep doing that." I don't peep. "I can't keep rolling back down and then up and down, and up, and down. I- I just can't, Garcia- Uidel-"

"I'll drag you there." I shrug.

"But you shouldn't have to!" His voice raises and make the boards vibrate where his skin's still pressed. "You shouldn't have to-to fuckin'-" he sniffles, the following words drowned out in held-back sobs. "Fuck damn it, you- I said I- I wouldn't be a burden anymore!"

He's crying out loud now, open sorrow and no walls left. Out of all the things you could stick on the not-so amiable man sulking straight from bed to Jojamart to Stardrop Saloon to bed, you probably wouldn't think of "extreme scare of bothering anyone". Yet it's all here in how he collapses silently in the mattress, wake without a sound, keep his head down the whole time he crosses town, tries to merge himself in the fake-nice blue of the shelves at work, then corners himself right between the chimney and the bar on Emily's side, stuck in-between two sources of warmth that can never touch him unless he swings one way or the other. And he doesn't a lot, still keeping to himself strictly. You probably wouldn't think either of how dreamy he gets, hidden in his alcove but seeing everything from there.

When Harvey nerds out about classical, jazz and electro swing music down the bar to me, trying to catch me up on my fuzzy memories of arts history and the implications of breaking codes in the tempo and the leisure of each instruments; of how each note gets a specific response from the brain if done right, and can make up for caffeine deprivation in miraculous ways, when there are no more chances to push back the dread of midterms season at doctor school.

When Elliott, boisterous and drunk, arm-on-arm with an equally inebriated Leah, calls out to the whole place to hear out his latest soliloquy, and drags on the words too much, but with a voice that carries it well, all flamboyance and no limits, as his hair floats around him in a crown and he reigns over the room like a kind lion- Description all intoxicated words from your chicken man truly, not mine. I always get too caught up in the pendulum of Leah's braid and her crooked smile to quite appreciate his theatrics. But the recital rings clear, and everyone applauds the performance- because hey, you applaud a drunk guy showing off the prowess of not tripping a single word in a ten minutes tirade, but also because it really is that good! Everyone, even Shane, whose hands zipped to under his armpits the moment our eyes crossed and I met his pink cheeks with a clairvoyant smile.

Hey, what can I say. Dude's a sapiosexual. Hence why we'll never and cannot bang. That, and, uh, the being lesbian thing.

But all this is closed off and not for anyone to see behind see-through fogged windows, like those kitchen cabinets, when you can make out the piled plates all resting against the cold surface precariously, bound to crash and shatter the moment you open them.

It took a good wrecking ball of a fake-oblivious polite faced stranger and my incessant, hot pepper poppers-powered pestering, to even just crackles the glass.

The rest was all done out of his own volition. He can't see that because alcohol is a depressant, and guzzling it down leads to blurry concepts made softer always and pretty much lush in brain, and when he's off the thing, and that's rare, he instantly goes from not there to thinking he's everywhere, soiling everything and giving nothing.

His sobbing doesn't relent, and he whimpers issues of "trustworthy sack of shit", "not being worth the fucking shrink's money", "not being worth his aunt's troubles", "not being worth Jas". At some point he goes to grapple with his hair, and tugs brusquely once, then twice, then I have to reach for his wrist to make him stop, which he snatches back as soon as I make contact. But he doesn't grab anything to pull or pinch or punch again, so that's good. I stay on standby beside him, but don't touch him. He rasps more condemnations, struggles to breathe enough through the phlegm spreading in his respiratory system, and I start reenacting the steps to stop a hyperventilation in my head, and the first aid for choking, when he begins to cough violently, his entire frame upset with the movement.

He takes the tissue box i nudge with insistence toward him, and ends up spitting mouthfuls of mucus mixed with some bile in the basin under his feet. Most of it is clear and smells of fruits, not beer, so I'm not too worried. When I go to stabilize him by taking his shoulders, he grasps at my wrists to stop me- but let them stay here, while he clings. The tremors get to me now, and I remind myself that this is good, this is before the cliffs and him finding refuge to burst open, not glassily stare at the weeping clouds as he blabbers on the meaninglessness of his life.

This is… very alive.

I ought to be glad.

I let him come down at his rhythm, counting the pulses of his wrists as I feel mine numb with the blood circulation slowed down under his hold.

When he's back with a mind, I count to three, then let go. His arms flop back down, on his lap and hands dangling between his tighs. He blows his nose again.

"I'm so pathetic…"

"Yeah sure, and I'm a serial prom queen."

Instead of jabbing back and forth, we get interrupted by a soft mewling. Both of us turn to the door, that's opened slightly to let in Eryza, the pitter-patter of her paws on the stone flooring the only sound for a moment…

As we both stare in revulsion at her jaw, a single line of vomit dripping of it.

Shane puts his head down in shame, not even having the strenght to hide further.

"Sorry."

"Nah, 's okay. She's already trash, anyway."

Eryza edges closer and rapidly tour around our legs- going back to Shane's feet twice, her whiskers tickling his exposed ankles. Purring loudly, she completely ignore my chastizing as I threaten to make her diet periwinkle-based to counter-act her literal potty mouth, and she scampers to do who-knows-what in the rooms.

"Your vibes are rancid, do you hear me?? Rancid, girl!" I call after her. "I swear to Yoba, Shane, your aunt might as well have brought me a raccoon."

Turning back to him, I can see the short-lived humor of the situation was, well, short-lived. I sigh.

It's late. We're both tired. Tomorrow is sunday. It's cool. We've got time.

I don't sit back down right away. First, I put a hand down on the nape of his neck, that slides to the top of his scalp, right where he'd tug. My quota, remember?

He sniffles some, a few teardrops make their way to the planks, unheard. We stay like this for a moment.

He doesn't shake me off, but in the slow tandem his body takes, rocking lightly from back to forth, I can tell it's enough, for now.

I sit back down on my chair.

I lean on the hand I'd put in his dark purple strands before, smelling cedar wood and pine trees. I don't assume. My farm has plenty of those to stumble through. And even if he went back to the cliff, another time again. I do that too. With my own cliffs back at not-home, but close. There's a sense, in staring down what couldn't take you.

Like visiting a scene crime that you've narrowly escaped from. And pride too. And the thrill of asking- "what if again? What if this time?"- and okay, I can see why it'd be worrying to have him go there a thrice time on his own late in the evening.

But last time was fine, the one before was made fine, and he might need a bitch for a friend right now, but not a watchdog.

His forehead is back against the table.

Three fingers massage my temple. I don't know how much he'll even remember tomorrow, but it's worth the try, always.

"Shane, dude, look at me." He doesn't.

"Dude."

Still doesn't budge. I knock the wood lightly.

"Yo, punk, my eyes are up here." I joke.

He snorts, or maybe he sniffles, and his chin's now resting on the table, peering through the forgotten drinks to watch me. His hands are hidden, probably still clutching his midsection. If I went on a rollercoaster toasted, I'd probably look the exact same.

"I told you before that you literally couldn't be a burden."

He snorts for sure this time, derisive. I knock wood again. "Don't look away from me when I talk, young man. Rude ass punk."

"Bitch." He throws.

"Bitch bastard man." I send back. "Anyways, as I was saying. If I choose you're my dumb of ass to keep around, that's me, that's my decision. You can't burden me if I choose the hard mode package and roll with it. So stop it. I literally told you before, it's not about you not making efforts or burdening people, it's about people who want to deal with you, out of free will."

"Freaky."

"Oh shut up, you dramatic himbo wannabe."

"A what now?"

"Internet slang. Gotta admit you're closer to a dad bod type, but the energy's here, according to many."

He shuffles, self-conscious. "Y'don't need to remind me…"

"Oh hush you, you're perfectly fine. And Elliott would eat his dumb little lobster and pomegranate toasts off that belly if you'd grow out of your own shell and let him."

He sputters unintelligibly, red as a fecking pepper. Good. Flustered is better than self-depreciating.

But now he's pulled on his hood and the strings all the way out, and resumes to chanting me to fuck off, so that might be a good call for a break.

"I'm gonna change and clean up, you need anything? Do you think you'll go back to the ranch, or stay here for the night?" It's happened before, but you can count them on the fingers of one hand.

A long silence follows and I allow myself a quick look in the mirror. Yeah, we're skipping a shower tonight, but the simple hairbrush will not do. I look like a bird's nest that the birds fought in to know who'd keep the children when bird 2 takes off and bird 1 is left to mourn the empty space that'll never fill up the same again and the good times that won't be- wow, trauma lane much, not now, cowpal. First we buckle up our current rodeo. I walk back to the main room, now pajama-clad.

"I've got the beds for the possible kids up there, don't ask me why Robin put so many there, we're two people in a house, and I can lend you a Tee if you want."

He's anxious, chewing his thumb. "Emily won't mind?"

"She's out, sleeping at Haley's tonight. Girls' night and sisters catching up. It's important for her energy flow and karmic balance. Plus, you know she wouldn't mind, she likes you."

That makes him blush more, covering up the alcohol damage enough. I take note, but don't comment. Things for later. They pile up tonight.

"I- I can't go back to the ranch like this."

"You could. Marnie knows better than act as if you're doing this for fun, now. She'd have to understand. But you don't have to." I reassure him when agitated pupils jump up to me. Let's keep that ongoing panic attack at bay. "Either way, I won't mind."

I sit back. Stretch my arms between us. Catch his worrying hands into mine. Give him a squeeze. Tense appendages don't squeeze back, but don't pull back either. That's half a win. He stops torturing the poor things, and unfold with visible effort, like a crumpled up paper flower put on water. His head shakes, and I can't tell if it's conscious, him speaking with himself or trying to shake off a thought, or just a reflex. He visibly forces his shoulders to relax.

"I'm… not bothering you?" Righteous. Seeking vocal positive reinforcement, like a pro.

"Nope." I pop out the 'p'.

"... I think I'll, uh, stay for tonight."

My hands shoot into the air. "Woo! Sleepover, baby!"

I don't catch his hands curling back on themselves, trying to capture that leftover warmth in the late summer night.

--- to be continued.

[thetraumadiaries]

My experience with MDMA & PTSD

So let me tell you about the first time I made a major breakthrough with my PTSD.

It's the first time I felt like I was capable of healing. What I'm about to say may be controversial, and perhaps not all of you will respect my decision, nor do the same thing I did. In fact, I am not trying to encourage you to do what I did, but I just want to come out and be honest about how I felt.

Anyway.

For years, I've been the kind of girl that's very "against" drugs. Well, I didn't have a problem with people that chose to do it, but I could see their suffering and reliance and I did not want to become weakened by a substance, or reliant on it. I am an incredibly resilient person. Heck, I don't even take painkillers when I need them. But for a while, the idea of drugs scared me because of their dangers. Also, the social stigma made me really adamant on staying away from them.

Of course, when I turned 20 I did try marijuana for the first time. Tbh, I didn't even really enjoy it. It made me ridiculous, silly and paranoid. It enhanced the overthinking parts of my brain. A few years later, I decided to try it again... this time I had sex while being high. It was actually a great experience. It was fun. But meh, it wasn't really something I cared for tbh. At the time, that was the "hardest" drug I'd ever do. I'm glad I tried it, but I vowed not to do anything else.

You see, my mother has paranoid schizophrenia. We aren't sure what triggered it in her... perhaps it was having me after 3 miscarriages before. I wasn't meant to be born.

Maybe it was the way my uncle treated her as a child, and how horrible people were to her. Maybe it was her own traumatic experiences time after time.

Either way, I grew up with a crazy mom.

It was hard. I won't explain the details of that today, but of course, you can understand my hesitation and fear of drugs after growing up with a mother like that. No, my mom never did any drugs. But knowing that schizophrenia COULD be hereditary and that drugs CAN trigger it, means it is a very real risk for me.

After university and postgrad, I had a friend who tried to talk to me about drug therapy. I was very open about what I was going through on Instagram & Facebook. But I kept explaining to him that I have a very good reason not try any substances. He was telling me how MDMA research had found breakthroughs with PTSD. This is when I had just started suspecting that I had a severe case of PTSD, but wasn't yet diagnosed. Honestly, when he was talking to me, I didn't even know what MDMA was. I didn't know what ecstacy really did to people. Or meth. Or cocaine. Or heroine. I just knew that they could ruin people's lives - and that the risk to me is the greatest. So I brushed him off, educated him on my schizophrenic parent, and was adamantly against was he was saying.

But I have to say, I think that knowledge haunted me subconsciously.

Half a year later, I made some new friends when I was on my way to go clubbing with my girls. I really like to dance, and these new friends - two guys - they noticed that. They told me that I should come raving with them, and that I'd really enjoy it. I honestly knew nothing about raves, but being a metalhead for so long, I've also been exposed to harder styles of EDM and was interested in it. I decided to go with them. They offered me M but I declined, of course. I didn't explain my reasons right away, but they respected me for it & it was a great time.

I wanted to go again to another event. I was also interested in the guy that invited me. But he told me something that was strange. He said he doesn't feel comfortable around sober people when he raves. I thought that was some weird af guilt-tripping bullshit tbh. So I explained my reason and TBH, I always have a good time sober. I'm just as happy and fun and crazy as everyone else! But sure, whatever...maybe I didn't "tap into" whatever they did.

So we all went to another event. It was good. But I started growing more and more curious. My PTSD was actually getting worse. A few months before these raves, I got raped.. and I hadn't healed properly. I even lost my job because I wasn't able to focus on both a criminal investigation, how I felt and doing my daily tasks. I didn't even look for a new job in this time. I was so lost, going through so much. I think I really just wanted someone to talk to who wouldn't blame me or question the logic of what happened. But heck, I couldn't afford therapy. I didn't even have the energy to make the phone call to get help. But I really needed help. So I kept talking to this guy. He was nice to me and would talk to me, having "real" conversations with me (not like the BS small talk that most Toronto fuckboys engage in). Looking back, I think I liked him because I felt like I could heal through him. This was a mistake, of course. But it's okay, we live and we learn.

Now comes the good part. The first breakthrough.

Dreams Festival was around the corner, and since I'd been exposed to all my friends on M at every rave, I was really thinking about it a lot. I had done some research and read that M with assisted psychotherapy really did do wonders for PTSD. Of course, I didn't have a psychotherapist... but I was curious. What if I did just a little bit? Just a tiny amount.

The guy I was seeing - he would make his own pills. So he could tell me exactly how much is in each of them, and customize it for me. I told him I wanted to try it... but I didn't want to do it both days of the festival. Just one. I read and saw my friends go through a lot of the side effects and a lot of the highs, and they educated me a lot on it. So I think I was okay.

Day 1 was great, but Day 2 is when I popped for the first time.

I only took 0.10, but man... it was enough. Believe me. When I started rolling, it was like...

I didn't even know I was capable of feeling that way. It was as though a HUGE weight that I'd been carrying for my whole life was literally lifted off my shoulders. The sun was setting and it felt so good on my skin. They kept telling me to put my sunglasses on, but I didn't want to. I wanted to look at the sunset, and feel the warmth on my face. I didn't have a fear in the world.

And that was profound.

I didn't feel any fear. For the first time in my life.

I wasn't scared or worried about ANYTHING. I had no stress. I wasn't thinking about anything bad that had happened.

So I started crying. I was fucking balling my eyes out. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way. I didn't even know that hope existed. I didn't know what recovery felt like. But feeling that... made it all possible. I realized that it was actually possible for me to feel that way sober. The "real me" came out. I realized that there was a kind of "fear cloud" haunting me, and that I just need to separate myself from it to feel good and heal.

It was magical. This realization was the biggest epiphany I've ever had in my life.

I was okay. I was REALLY okay... and I would continue to be if I can remember how to do that again.

I just have to remember....

Since that amazing night, I got A LOT better. It was like 6 sessions of therapy, I swear. Don't get me wrong- the "fear cloud" definitely came back LOL. & I'm still damaged af. But tbh, I learned a lot and I can tap into that experience to help myself move forward.

The best part is, I had no come down and I didn't even crave the feeling of being high like that again. Just that one experience was enough for me to know that I'll be okay, but that it's going to take a lot of pro-activeness for me to get there.

And so I've been working hard at psychoanalyzing myself, and keeping my mental health in check.

When I break down, it gets REALLY bad. But I can tap into that and talk myself out of the overwhelming negative memories and bad thoughts that stop me from sleeping. It doesn't go away completely, but it really does help a lot. I'm not a lost cause anymore. I'm not bad anymore.

I'm not the way I was last summer.

And well, there you have it.

That's just one baby step in a life long journey of healing from PTSD.