#May end up deleting but this is why I've been very quiet this past week

[that1nkyone]

Untethered.

Roughly three decades ago, I was born in New Jersey.

I was the first kid to a young mother. My sudden existence changed a lot in her life. She had to mobilise for a few things, and mobilise she did.

Her relationship with my biological father didn’t last. She travelled back home to her family with me in tow, not knowing exactly where things were headed in her life - just that she had a kid to care for.

Her Dad was working out of the country. He asked her to stay over and visit, perhaps have a nice little vacation with his daughter and grandkid, respectively.

So, Mom packed up, strapped me to her chest and flew across the ocean, all the way to New South Wales, Australia.

I was six months old.

My Mom would meet the man who’d become my Dad at a Halloween party, one night. It happened very quickly, but he took me on board without question. They were married, and it became clear that Mom and I were in Australia to stay. My grandfather left with his family, back home to the States. My brother came into the picture soon after. I was two years old. I had a home and family.

As I learned to speak, I distinctly sounded Aussie - there’s video evidence on a VHS tape, somewhere. But Mom’s Texan cadence was what I heard the most. Before I knew it, my accent was locked into that of a watered-down American voice - which still persists today.

My American roots weren’t exactly forgotten. We would visit the States, periodically - usually for Christmas. It was easier to travel back then. I had a US passport, but I had permanent residence in Australia thanks to Mom marrying an Australian Citizen. I met my large family, on my Mom’s side. I would tell them how I stole Doritos from the cockpit on the giant Qantas plane we travelled on. 

Time passed. I turned 10.

Travelling to the States suddenly became a lot harder.

At home, people asked me if I liked George Bush. People asked me if I was visiting Australia for the holidays, based on my voice. People in the States asked if I rode kangaroos to school. People told me Bush was cool, he was a cool guy. 

I didn’t understand much about it. I preferred to play Pokemon Silver.

Time passed. My Mom and I had both lived in Australia for 15 years now. We had visited family over the years, but the visits were growing sparser. All the kids were growing up and separating off into their own lives and plans. 

(I would begin noticing raised voices over phone calls that I hadn’t noticed before.)

Mom and I had permanent residence in Australia. But we were given the opportunity to be Actual Citizens. Any application process was certainly going to be a series of hoops to jump through. Being underage, all I had to worry about was a swearing-in ceremony while my parents handled the rest.

I got an Australian Passport, with a photo I was not prepared for and a half-asleep 15-year-old stare that haunted me for several years. I was fortunate enough to have Dual Citizenship. The sky was the limit, in terms of my choice of residency.

I finished school. We visited the US again, this time on our Australian passports. 

Our American passports had long expired.

I would enjoy seeing family again. I would describe the trips to my friends back home. Or online. I would talk about my uncles, aunts and cousins as I walked with friends down George St. I would talk about how cute squirrels were and how cool bluejays were, when looking up at the rainbow lorikeets that shot through our suburb. 

Time passed. It got harder to travel.

My brother moved to the States. He’d fallen in love with a part of it - mostly its natural beauty. My Mom and I headed over to visit in mid-2016.

I would see a lot of the rock formations and trees and fauna that my brother had loved (and I loved in turn). I would see Black Canyon in Colorado. I would see the red formations that Utah was known for.

I would see many, many dead and dying towns out in the fields and desert next to the asphalt strip that cut through the lands. I would see those still standing with hundreds of Trump flags and banners held aloft and plastered on every side of those buildings as they were steadily reclaimed by the land.

I was 25.

I voiced my concerns to my Australian co-workers in November, once I’d returned. They laughed and said it would be entertaining for there to be a President Trump. And what were the odds of him actually getting in?

My brother headed back home to Australia.

Time passed. It got harder to travel.

Mom and I entertained the possibility of travelling again, once things settled down a bit. Regardless of who was in power, we had friends and family there. People who we wanted to see, places we wanted to go.

Time passed.

The Trump Administration adjusted many things. It was no longer legal for a US citizen to travel to and from the States on any other passport than a US one.

I had not travelled on my US passport since I was a child. Renewing it would place me on the radar of an administration I wanted little to do with.

We could have played the waiting game. Wait for a law to change. Petition for something to adjust. But even then, something had become glaringly obvious.

If I signed up for a US passport, I would sign up with everything else that came with being an adult in the USA. Obligations for a country that I didn’t live in.

For a country that I was born in, but never called home.

I am 31. 

I have spent the past week taking in a small part of Western Australia. Enjoying its beauty, seeing its red sand and sparse towns. Thinking deeply on the wonders this country has, and the endless problems it provides for people simply seeking a home.

Tomorrow, I’m going to the only US Consulate that isn’t booked out for the next few years in Australia. 

And together with my Mom, who brought me to this country, I am renouncing my US citizenship.

The USA was where I was born. I have family there. Friends, who are fighting for a better future for themselves and others, tomorrow.

People I would like to meet. And people I would like to see again.

In order to do that in a way that allows me more freedom, I have to give up that part of my identity on an official basis.

But America never really was my home to begin with. Maybe once, long ago in that state of New Jersey in my Mom’s apartment with her friends all cooing over me in my crib. But I don’t remember any of that.

My Mom grew up in the USA. It was her home up until I was born. She wants to live in Australia, maybe New Zealand - anywhere but the States.

I know this process will hit her harder than me. She lived there. I have always been a visitor. Any ideas of living in the USA have long faded.

But it will be strange to have a major part of my national identity adjusted, just like that. As well as all of what that entails. What I choose for that to entail. How I will process all that.

When I’m at work, people always hear my voice, and ask where I’m visiting from. I state that I live here. I’ve lived here for 30 years.

I don’t think they ever quite believe me. I don’t blame them. My accent isn’t Australian, even if I tried to mimic it.

“Where are you from?”

I was born in America. I have friends and family there. I visited many times. I have family there who I love. I literally cannot visit, right now. And a small part of me is mourning what could have been.

But I live here in Australia, now. I’ve lived here for 30 years. I went to school here. I grew up here. I have friends and family here, who I love. A partner, who I love. I find more and more things about this place that fascinate me, and problems that need attention.

This is my home.

And I have a lot of feelings about all that, right now.

[2idiots]

Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8a

word count: 1,667ish

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

warnings: not really any, kind angsty, more than just mentions of chronic pain

(I don't know how but the second paragraph got deleted when I first uploaded. I have since added it in. So if you see something new that's why)

---

Getting Johnny from outside the building to inside your room was a lot more difficult than you expected. This was partially because your best friend was much drunker than his texts suggested and partially because each step was sending a pain reverberating down your legs and up your abdomen. A pain that you knew the mild over-the-counter pain meds would do little to numb but you had taken them with false hope anyway. Before your best friend had forced you into letting his drunkass in you were curled into your bed with a heating pad pressed into your abdomen, hoping eventually exhaustion would win over excruciating pain.

This was the real reason you bolted out of Jet Lag the minute your friends were off in different directions distracted. The pain had triggered before Mark's open mic night started but you were not about to miss the night you friend had been talking about for weeks. This was so important to him and you had to be there. So you sucked it up and promised yourself to duck out the moment it was clear and Mark had performed. Woo noticing and staying over for a few hours was just a welcomed surprise. And the leftover baked goods he brought were another plus side, not that you had any appetite. At least your blubbering fool of a friend would benefit from the pile of pastries sitting on your desk, if you could make it past the giggling desk attendant.

The first time you walked passed her with bleary eyes, focused on only the task ahead she called out something about the “cute Oppa” at the door. Immediately a gag raced up your throat at that, Johnny? A cute Oppa? Gross. He was like your brother, actually more like your overprotective mother. Sure you joked about Johnny being a daddy, but it was all shits and giggles to make him mad with Mark. He wasn't actually one.  The second time she made some sort of pass at him that you blocked out and stifled another gag. You didn’t need to see or hear that child making passes at your best friend.

That wasn’t the only thing she was giggling at though. You and Johnny were quite the sight. He was a stumbling, stuttering fool and you were wearing pajamas that had been picked out in the dark, not even your shoes matched. These were things you had thrown on when Johnny begged you to let him in but your headache was pounding too much to turn the lights on, which was also the reason for the sunglasses. 

Speaking of Big Foot, he was using you almost completely as a support and he weighed a lot more than his bony ass looked. How he managed to make it to your building from 7th Sense was beyond you, he could barely make it three steps without giggling and sliding around. Honestly this made you more than a little nervous for Mark, usually he was the giggly one after a few drinks. If Johnny was this drunk, then Mark could very well be dead.

Overall the hardest obstacle for Johnny to maneuver around was your actual room. He tripped over everything. Maybe it was his long spindly legs combined with the alcohol, but he even fell just trying to walk over your rug. You had to catch him before he face planted. Of course he just contiuned blabbering about the night and how well it went the whole time, even while laughing at his clumsiness. “Then Mark fell! Kinda like how he is falling for sunflower boy but like fell… on the actual ground… like how I just almost fell!” To which you just nodded, handing him a pastry and an ice cold water bottle. “And Jae was so funny, he was talking about the basketball team and one of their parties last week where someone drank beer from a ball that had been cut in half. Isn’t that gross?”

“Yeah babe, real gross,” You nodded, trying to push him toward your bed. You might not have been asleep before he messaged but you were still in bed ready to sleep and you wanted to be back there. “Can you get in bed, Jojo? I'll tired.”

Following your direction like a lost lamb, Johnny swiftly removed all his out layers and climbed into your bed continuing to talk about the basketball team and how pretty and funny they were, all the while giving you very pointed looks. Or at least he was prattling on until he went completely silent and tense before screeching, “THERE’S SOMETHING WARM!”

Arms crossed and irritation pulsed through you at the scream, you leaned over to pull the heating pad out from under him and wiggled it around in your outstretched hand, “Johnny you’ve met HP before, HP meet Big Foot.”

“HP? You named your heating pad?” He questioned already snuggling back into your sheets like he owned the bed. This happened every time he was over, sober or drunk it didn’t matter; Johnny took up every blanket and pillow in your entire bed: partially because his size, mostly because he was an asshole. One of the many reasons you were hesitant to let him stay over anymore, even though you always ended up letting him stay.

“Might as well, he’s in my bed so often,” You grinned before grabbing another water bottle out of the mini fridge in the corner of the room and tossing it his direction. While this wasn’t a common occurrence, drunk Johnny, you did know that he would wake up in three hours whining about a dry mouth and you didn't want to deal with it.

“I mean he wasn’t on Halloween.” Luckily you flipped the lights off before you could see his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Here was the worst part, talkative drunk Johnny taking an interest in your life and trying to lay down his tips on life. 

Grabbing an extra blanket for yourself you slid in next to him and laughed that thought off, “Actually HP was, ALSO I thought we agreed to not talk about Halloween, leave the past behind us and all.”

“Behind us? Is that how you like it y/n?” He let out a slight whimper when you turned over enough to give him a solid kick to the shin. This alcohol was giving him far more confidence than normal and you didn’t like it. Throwing his hands up, Johnny tossed out a worthless apology and whined, “I deserved that ok. But you know I wouldn’t call it the past, don’t you tutor the dude?”

That elicited a quiet response from you, a simple, “Yeah.”

“Isn’t it like two or three times a week?” He didn’t stop his incessant babbling long enough for you to answer, adding on, “You’re quite popular, my friends keep asking about you too.” Then a switch suddenly flipped in Johnny’s mind, evident by how he practically climbed over you to switch the lamp back on and give you his best mom glare, “Wait, you’re sleeping with HP?” You let out a few weak protests as the light flooded your room and his bony ass arm squished you down into the bed digging into your side. Drunk friends sucked. Too bad you loved them too much to leave them on the street. “So you’re in pain? You’re in pain and you didn’t say anything? You just went home alone and lied to Mark and me?”

“Johnny I always sleep with a heating pad and I’m always in pain. It's not a big deal.” Tonight just happened to be bad, still was, but you left that part out. “Also Jungwoo just left; I wasn’t alone.” That was accompanied by a successful effort to push him off so you could flip the light off again and snuggle into the heating pad again. “Now go to sleep, I'm tired.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you heard sniffling and an occadsional shuffle.

“Are you crying?” You asked incredulously, flipping over to see him hastily wiping away his tears in the ambient light filtering in through the window. Sure enough, your bitch-ass best friend was laying on the other side of the bed using his white undershirt to wipe his tears away. At least he was smart enough not to use your sheets as the tissue. “Stop crying.” This was new. Your friends probably knew way too much about how hard your days were getting, in fact Johnny had driven you to the ER one too many times over the past year and a half, but they had never cried in front of you. At least not about you. 

You hated it.

His immediate response was denial, no he wasn’t crying. These weren’t tears, they were allergies. "Leaks in my face." But you still heard him mutter a muted “I just want you to be happy and not in pain” as the alcohol running through his system finally knocked him out.

You were struck silent, not sure how to respond. Sure he was your closest friend and that meant he had to like you, but this affection made breathing a little hard: your chest not quite expanding like it should. You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek as you turned to face the other side of the room, an effort to get away. This was exactly why you didn't tell them about tonight, you didn't want them burdened with your pain. They should have to suffer just because you were. 

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you blindly reached out for where you set your phone on the bedside table. You still may not be able to sleep but you could get some reading done and maybe forget the sound of Johnny's tears. And maybe, just maybe, the words would lull you into some dreamlike state so you could rest. It was only a few minutes into reading that a text interrupted the chapter. 

summary: College is hard enough, right? Coursework, two jobs, a social life, and the state of your mental health. As if that was enough now the school’s no.1 athlete won’t leave you alone after a one night stand. And maybe you like him back but you have a tendency to run when life gets too difficult especially now that undiagnosed chronic pain just seems to be getting worse with each passing month.

(I've decided updates will be Thursday at 6pm. I hope you enjoy this chapter)

Taglist: @princeofshenzhenuwus

[quietborderlineinfo]

Hi I have a question or want your perspective on something please. So I've seen myself in other people's descriptions of bpd for a long time. My t thinks I might have it. If I have it it's the quiet type. But there's just some things that I can't see fitting? Or understand how they would be "quiet"? And some of the criteria I only experience very rarely or with certain people. 1/?

alright hey stargazer!

i can totally appreciate how much thought and detail you’ve put into this - i remember being in that place, and its so confusing and frustrating and frankly exhausting. breathe; from what youve said it sounds like your T is paying close attention and wants the best for you. over time, you’ll figure out what diagnosis & treatment(s) may work for you. until then, just focus on getting better one step at a time.

keep in mind that below i just discuss how the things you said relate to the diagnostic criteria, but no one here can diagnose you. definitely talk to your T (and if theyre not a psychiatrist, try to talk to one of those if you have access to a good one, since theyre more inclined to diagnose, in my experience)

also remember that you only need 5/9 for a diagnosis - so two people w bpd may have only 1 overlapping symptom. (so if you dont see yourself in everything you read, thats normal)

For instance 1 (frantically avoid abandonment) only w/ 2 relationships I’ve ever had, and these are more feelings than actions I take 2 (pattern unstable intense relationships) I’ve only had one significant relationship in my life and it was very intense and unstable, but I have no history of it but I also have no history of what I would call “close” relationships. I’m mostly avoidant of them) 2/?

1 & 2: saaame. i once asked a T if never letting yourself feel close to people was a form of attempting to avoid abandonment, and was told that it can be, if that’s why you do it. it can be hard to figure out why you do something you may have always done though, so it helps to both try to analyze past experiences and definitely to try to look at your feelings and how they’re motivating you as you go forward.

I’m not sure on the whole feelings vs actions thing; ask your T cause i think there can be a lot of grey area. and for #2, i had the same experience too; everyone who treated me seemed to think that the one relationship was enough evidence, i guess considering that avoidant behaviour. 

3 (id disturbance) I’m not sure exactly how this manifests or is separate from depersonalization. Like I don’t feel real when I try to engage in hobbies. I only exist when I’m doing things with others and then I feel fake and two dimensional (but this is getting a lot better and I’m afraid that means the symptom isn’t real) I’m not sure of my own hobbies and I have no internal motivations or knowledge base to make my own decisions. 3/?

. I can hardly tell right from wrong a lot of the time and use clues from others to help me. And I can change depending on the people I’m around. Is that what this means? This isn’t all things but some things 4 I am not in the slightest impulsive except if you count the impulsive texts I would send to that one intense relationship to make sure she didn’t hate me every few weeks 4/?

3. so depersonalization is a type of dissociation, so that’d fall under criterion 9. symptoms can get better and that absolutely doesn’t mean that you are now or have ever been faking; remission of symptoms with time and/or therapy is actually more likely than not. not knowing right from wrong is interesting cause at first i thought that was entirely unrelated, but realized it could come from not having an internalized moral system, which would definitely sound relevant.

what does fit the description is both not being sure of your hobbies (esp since it sounds like means youre not sure of what you enjoy/care about?), and changing depending on the people you’re around (if you feel like its more of an internal change than say, changing from business-appropriate speech patterns to something more casual when around friends vs at work).

the wiki page describes ID disturbance really well i think, but if you still have questions, definitely send them your T’s/our way.

4. neither am i, and i was still diagnosed. some people seem to think that it’s one criterion that has to be met though. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it is possible that it manifests only very specifically, like w me I’m only impulsive w self-harm or recklessly crossing the street.

5 (self harm) I’ve cut in the past but I can go years without cutting, but the urge to cut will always surface every few weeks whether I act on it or not 6 (affective instability) not sure I understand this. My emotions are so intense that I have a hard time doing anything but engaging in avoidant behaviors. Focusing on school and work is extremely difficult around my thoughts and feelings, Is that what this means? I can change really quickly too based on one thought or one outside occurrence5/?

Hi stargazer anon again. Sorry I’m all over the place with this I just get confused. So missing might be the part that addressed diagnostic criteria #7. basically yes I experience emptiness. I think The end of message 5 is relating to diagnostic criteria #6 (instability of mood) and message 7 is relating to diagnostic criteria #8 (anger). Sorry it’s a mess. But I don’t think there is anything important in the missing piece. I was just going through each symptom and comparing my experience w/ it

5. that certainly counts! (proud of you for keeping it to a minimum, hope you’re working w your T to eliminate it entirely!)

6. “Patients often describe affective instability as an “emotional roller coaster” that relates to a subjective sense of strong affects and emotions experienced in an uncomfortable, rapid sequence.”

what you described sounds intense, and to clarify the changeability i think it can have a lot to do with reacting really strongly to things in the environment/in relationships. you didnt talk too much about the changes, so id say it sounds like this likely fits, but warrants more discussion just to clarify.

7. aight √

But i don’t get angry at people usually. I used to have this pattern of withdrawing from my relationships because I was convinced they didn’t really like me and I wanted to see if they would come talk to me to sort of “test them” but knowing the whole time that I was a horrible person who didn’t deserve their love anyway and if they didn’t really love me then I didn’t deserve it (though have gotten way better at this with therapy). Is that what is meant by the cold shoulder? 7 I think/?

8. see idk, it’s possible that that’s anger for you, but it sounds like you’ll wanna think more about it. i think cold shoulder is more about refusing to engage someone because you are upset at them. to me, what you described sounds more like fear than anger, but only you can know that. idk about other quiet borderlines but for most of my life I’ve had anger far repressed 🤔

9. (for the sake of completion) depersonalization, which you mentioned in part 2, is a kind of dissociation

Sorry for this essay if not ok just ignore and delete. Sorry I’m just having a hard time cause so much of this feels like me but then so many of the hallmarks don’t at all, or only rarely appear. I think I have aVpd too and it makes it hard to know because some symptoms cloud each other. Thanks can please tag stargazer if you do answer it? 8/8 I think it was?

sorry for taking so long to respond! yeah its useful to have a full discussion with a psychiatrist about this especially when multiple disorders are in question. also remember that as much as we may seek the sense of identity labels can give us, you dont need to fit something specific to have valid pain that deserves to be treated and warrants a break from work.

please let us know if you have any follow-up questions. good luck - it’ll get easier with time & work!