#also I think she’s been listening in on my therapy appointments (cause I do online therapy)

[spocksgotemotions]

cannot WAIT until I am financially and emotionally ready to move out

[whindsor]

the trials of online dating, pt 1

so @witchofinterest asked about mika and bucky meeting online, as is alluded to in the first episode of falcon and winter soldier, and, well...here’s part one oops!

After hours of research and thought and more research and more thought, Bucky decided HiLove was the best option. The general consensus on the forums was that people were looking for something more than a hookup, and it was an app that only allowed those identifying as female or non-binary to send the first message after a reciprocating match. The very, very small part of him that remained in 1943 balked at this, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. His entire past was a quick Google search away; his potential matches deserved to know, and he didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection if they found out the hard way. A win-win.

At least, as much of a win as an ex-hydra-super-soldier was going to get.

It was all Dr. Raynor’s idea, and it wasn’t his favorite, but he was willing to jump through the hoops and say all the right things so that he could be done with this probationary period and move on with his life.

He did his best filling out the profile. Age? 106. Interests? Well he couldn’t very well put knives and psychotherapy, so instead he put hiking, technology, and reading. Job? That was easy. Former military. He didn’t need to put that he originally got drafted in the 40s, and spent the last however many years as the fist of a rogue military organization; that would be part of the Google search. He put his real name, because Dr. Raynor made him, and clicked okay. He’d been avoiding this for weeks now, and if he didn’t at least have it up whenever he saw her later that day, she would write in that stupid notebook like those scientists used to.

This was a terrible idea.

This was the worst idea.

Somehow the goddamn push notifications got turned on, and within the hour the app started going off. He eyed his phone for the first few minutes before giving in a swiping it open.

Mistake number two.

A woman in her 50s messaged him, and apparently he had to swipe a certain way to see this message. Once he saw the message - and the photos attached to it - he nearly threw his phone against the wall. Back when he last dated, in 1943, he thought he appreciated a bold woman. Bold by today’s standards was a little more than he was ready for.

He was afraid to open the app after that, and so he just let his phone sit and buzz while he watched the EuroCup matches and counted down the minutes until his appointment. There were other things he could do to occupy his time, like visit the sushi shop or the library. But that seemed overwhelming, so instead he sat on the floor and watched his games until it was finally time to go into the clinic.

“So, James,” Dr. Raynor started, crossing her legs and pretending to be casual. Bucky sat with his hands clasped, his knee bouncing as he readied himself for the interrogation. Or therapy, as they called it. “Anything new to report today?”

“Well, I tried that dating app thing you told me to do,” he said. If he started with this, then maybe he could take up enough of the time with the bullshit and avoid having to talk about stupid stuff, like what he thought about during his panic attacks or whether his arm still hurt. The look on Dr. Raynor’s face said she didn’t believe him.

“Oh yea? Which one?” she asked, her voice just as convincing as her face.

“HiLove. Seemed the best option,” Bucky said, hoping that was the right answer. She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, it wasn’t a bad move,” she said. “Any matches so far?”

He allowed one bark of a laugh before schooling his features again. “One woman, uh, wanted my appraisal of her physical appearance.”

“She sent you a nude.”

“She - what?”

“She sent you a nude. A nudie, a dirty picture, a-“

“Yea, yea, I get it,” he interrupted, not wanting to beat the dead horse. “Yea, she sent me ‘a nude’.”

“Any others?”

“Any others what?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Did any other women send messages? Or nudes?”

“I don’t know, I stopped looking after the first one,” he said. Oftentimes he lied to Dr. Raynor, but this time he could be truthful. She sighed, holding her hand out and beckoning with her fingers. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and handed it over, watching as she easily keyed in his passcode. Casual security breach. That was fine. That totally wasn’t something that kept him up at night.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” she muttered, expertly swiping through the notifications. She moved a little too easily, as if she were familiar with the app. He decided not to comment on that. “Alright, James, we gotta filter some of the shit outta here.”

“I’d prefer to filter all the shit, but that’s just me,” he said. This was a stupid exercise, but at least it was manageable, and it would keep her occupied for a while.

“Too young, too young, way too young…” Was Dr. Raynor talking to herself or to him? It didn’t matter. She kept swiping. “Chaser, chaser, catfish…ah, here’s a good one.” She opened the profile and handed it over to him.

“She’s also way too young,” he said, looking at the picture of a beautiful woman. Dark hair, dark eyes, bright smile…someone that definitely would catch his eye, if he didn’t feel the weight of his past keeping his head down.

“She’s thirty-three.”

“That’s, like, a third of my age.”

“Well, if we discount all the times you were in ice, really you’re somewhere in the thirty-five to thirty-seven range. That’s not a bad gap.”

He glared up at her for a moment before going back to the profile. He furrowed his brows as he read further. “She’s Romanian.”

“Ah, you finally noticed that, did you?” she said, and he could hear the gloating in her voice. “What, is she not your type?”

“I don’t think I have a type anymore.”

“Then swipe and see what happens.”

“I don’t know, Doc,” he said, shaking his head. This was not how it was supposed to go.

“Don’t know what?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. He shrugged, looking off to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her slide the notebook off the table.

“Oh, c’mon, Doc, that’s not notebook worthy,” he said. She paused her pen, but still tapped it threateningly against the paper.

“Then tell me what you ‘don’t know’ about matching with that woman,” she said.

“I haven’t been on a date in eighty years, I think a little trepidation is normal even without the shit I’ve dealt with between now and then,” he said. “It just doesn’t feel right going into something without…without the other person knowing the full story.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you a virgin, James?”

“No.” What did that have anything to do with it? “Why?”

“Just making sure I have the full story,” she said. “So you don’t want to chance anything cause they don’t know everything about you.”

“Well…”

“Counterpoint: do you know everything about her?”

He gave her an annoyed look, the matching sensation bubbling behind his sternum. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

She sighed again, scribbling something down. Inside, he wanted to rip the notebook from her hands. On the outside, he just glanced down at his phone. The screen had darkened from lack of activity, and he tapped it to wake up again. The same pretty woman smiled up at him, the little pink bar waiting for him to confirm or deny their connection.

“Want me to do it for you?” Dr. Raynor asked, her pen now still. “Cause I will.”

“I can do it, thank you,” he said. “I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Bullshit, James,” she said. “She’s a pretty girl, and it’s online. You can ghost her if you get too scared. It’s an asshole move, but technically it’s an option.”

He’s a ghost story.

“I’m not gonna do that to anyone,” he said.

“What, ghost them? Or burden them?” she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbow on her knee.

“Either. Both.” Again, with the honesty. Idiot move.

“James, listen,” she said, making him look up at her. Her tone was gentle - at least, Dr. Raynor version of gentle. “Everyone has baggage. You’ve gotta start unloading some, or you’re gonna end up getting crushed by it. The worst has already happened to you. Sometimes, if you want the good stuff, you have to go out and get it.”

Bucky stared down at the phone, wishing that it was just the jitters that he felt instead of a cold stone of dread. The worst had already happened to him, a thousand times over. Would rejection feel like nothing, or would it break him?

Well, Dr. Raynor was right. He wouldn’t know unless he tried.

“Alright, Mika Corsof,” he said, swiping the pink arrow. “Let’s see what happens.”

[smalltragedy]

* natalia dyer, nonbinary + she/they | you know philomena carmichael, right? they’re twenty, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a day? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to the leanover by life without buildings like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole wind whipping around your hair, the gentleness of decomposition, a naked blur dancing around the flames of an everlasting fire thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is april 20th, so they’re a taurus, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 22, est, they/them )

hi thank u all fr being so patient w me as i rapidly switch out muses n figure out wht the fuck im doing atm <3 also sry fr my rare presence work hs been kicking my ass like lets jst say i deserve 2 b smbdy’s housewife (misogny wins this time sry) so i nvr hv to work in my life <3 DFSLKSDHKGLFSHLKAGHLKAHLKSG this is a joke 2 clarify. anyways. this is philly she’s old bt she’s one of my very favorites ever. this intro is also old sry its nt in my usual. style. LKDFKHGLKGF

CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION, DEATH, GRAPHIC MENTION OF DECAY, INSECTS MENTION TW.

mini playlist.

the girl who stole my tamagotchi ;; hot sugar / i dropped out ;; and the kids / pork soda ;; glass animals / wonderfully bizarre ;; bendigo fletcher / (dream) ;; salvia palth / alien blues ;; yundabar / dust in your pocket ;; glass animals / warm honey ;; willow / bela lugosi’s dead ;; bauhaus / gecgecgec ;; 100 gecs / blinding ;; florence and the machine / nantes ;; beirut / cherry-coloured funk ;; cocteau twins / not allowed ;; tv girl / oblivion ;; grimes / space song ;; beach house / dog food ;; 100 gecs / the leanover life ;; life without buildings.

statistics.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

birthday: april 20th, 2000. 

zodiac: taurus sun, scorpio moon, aries ascending.

mbti & temperament: infp & improvisor / phlegmatic. 

label: the halycon.

sexuality: demisexual.

pinterest.

biography.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

cancer tw // it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long. end of cancer tw //

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

depersonalization / derealization tw // it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs. depersonalization / derealization end of tw //

death, decay. maggots tw // there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.

you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -

you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot. end of death, decay, maggots tw //

and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.

philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.

after ending up with warrants from their arrest in florida (after running from the law in texas), philly and elektra have wound up at irving <3 partially hiding from the law and partially bcos their trusty van’s broken down and they haven’t got the money to fix her up yet. 

personality & facts.

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been.

currently living in florence, their van, with her sister elektra <3 currently residing in lilac ridge.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. (smirks at leo)

will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggling.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )

comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her (besides elektra).

has a certain knack for getting animals to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay.

wanted plots.

speaking through my third eye ... ;; philly is new in town n shes very strange. constantly lives in a state in which she does not exist (at least on the same plane). this is her harassing the locals. this is her slipping thru their fingertips as they attempt 2 understand her. they get close smtms bt philly jst. whisks herself away.

hollows of our eyelids ... ;; perhaps there is smbdy jst as strange as philly. i’m out here calling fr all the weirdos. lets be friends. lets hv philly n co go on adventures n discover horrible sites n uncover ancient secrets tht lie deep below irving. mayb nt tht. bt im jst saying. this is fr the dreamers. da weirdos. the jugheads. LHKDSHFSADLKGFHLSKADG fr those who also feel as if they r not real.

bills n aches n blues... ;; ya this is my call fr all negative plots. bills (catching philly be a thief and a fraud), aches (mayb heartache? unrecruited feelings or w/e theyre called?), n blues (ooooh so sad... so sad ... angst ...) obviously i am a genius. i wldnt say tht philly is here 2 make enemies bc philly doesnt care much abt ppl bt perhaps tht cld b an issue. tht she doesnt care much abt others. mayb ur muse is jst like. cn u pls care. n philly is like. i am incapable. sry. sucks.

n also ,, ;; like. anything i’ll. take anything. philly is weird lets come up w surreal plots tht verge on the edge of like. nt being correct fr this verse. suddenly theres vampires? or so they think ... smirks. anyways. shes been 2 jail n been in the circus (shoutout 2 kirby) n dances naked in the woods n hoards animals n treasures. we hv a lot to work with here obv. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #404

“death doesn’t answer when i cried for help”

The person you had the strongest feelings for dies, do you care? I'd be fucking devastated. It wouldn't feel real. Is there something you’re happy about at the moment? A few things. I'm still on that high of my APAP mask working, like I'm actually getting some fucking quality sleep, and I think I'm noticing the effects of my TMS therapy finally, too. My PTSD has most notably been much more bearable, and my interests are beginning to spread again. Do you want someone dead? No. Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? I mean yeah, I think that's pretty normal, even for someone without my issues. Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? Oh, many times. What is something you tend to worry about? My health and future. What is something you do that is unhealthy? Sit at the computer for way too long. I'm absolutely certain my vision is as poor as it is partially because of me endlessly staring at screens. What is something you do that is good for you? I'm not afraid to prioritize my mental health. What last caused you to force a smile? I was watching a Mark video for the first time in a while and was just reminded of how much I love and appreciate that moron. What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? Because you said "video" game, I guess I'll exclude computer ones, in which case I'm pretty sure it was Silent Hill 2. Given it's one of my all-time favorite games, of course I think it's fun. It's one hell of an emotional ride. What is something not many people know about you? The fact I was a dancer for many years would probably surprise people once they have a good idea of me and what I like. What word describes your basic style? Lazy, honestly. I dress for comfort, and given that's usually just pj pants and a tank top... yeah, I don't put much effort into my clothing when I'm going most places. Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? She kinda beat around the bush, but yes. Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? On more than one occasion. If yes, what convinced you not to go through with it? Well, I did OD once, but on the other occasions, it was the fear of the unknown that deterred me. Have you ever rejected a guy, only to have him push the issue by asking “why?” and insisting that you just need to get to know him better? Omg no, thank god. I would NOT handle that well. Is there something that you believe everyone should do and you can’t believe that some people don’t do it (e.g., recycle or go to the dentist regularly)? I didn't know 'til a survey question asked it that there are people who don't brush their tongue when brushing their teeth. Like holy shit dude, there are SO many germs on your tongue, clean that shit. Regarding the last good choice (healthy choice, kind choice, selfless choice, etc.) you made, what was your real motivation behind it? Ummmm the nearest that comes to mind is I guess taking my meds? I mean I do that every single day, but it's still a healthy choice for me. The motivation was because I am very serious about doing what I can for my mental wellbeing. What is something that you have had to practice at to get the hang of it? If you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, what’s something you are currently practicing at and trying to master? I really can't think of something for the first half of the question, but I can tell you that right now I'm attempting to force a routine of applying a therapy technique called "opposite action" into my daily life, where you, well, do the exact opposite of what your depression tells you to not do. It is WAY harder than it sounds, but I'm doing it with reading 30 minutes a day! Have you ever gone to the store to buy something, like a video game, when it came out at midnight? Not to my recollection, no. Regarding the last novel you read, was there a romance included? If so, was it central to the plot? The last novel I finished, yes. It wasn't central to the plot. Have you ever done relaxation meditations or listened to relaxation guides or positive-thinking/healing recordings? No, except in therapy when different therapists wanted me to experiment with it during a session. They just don't work for me. Do you have any interests that are also often shared by children? Yeah. Those are the one I'm especially self-conscious about. there something that could be a solitary activity but you really only like to do it with other people (e.g., watching movies, playing video games, etc.)? Watching movies or TV. Are you satisfied with the interior design or decoration in your home? Or do you think it needs a total home makeover? A makeover would be nice... Is there something that you’d like to own but you can’t find it anywhere? If not, can you a remember a time when you wanted something? Did you ever end up finding it or did you eventually stop wanting it? OKAY SO I actually have seen this custom-made once long after deciding I wanted it, but it was RIDICULOUSLY expensive. There's a location in the Silent Hill games called Heaven's Night, and I'd love love LOVE to commission someone to duplicate the neon pink sign of it to hang in my room. Hopefully one day I could still do it. Who makes you smile the most? Probably my cat, honestly. What piercings do you want/have? I've talked about the piercings I have, but I'll talk about those I want. My #1 is absolutely collarbone dermals, but as I've explained a billion times, I want to lose weight so the bones are more prominent for the sake of contrast; you can't really see my collarbones now, so I just think it'd look pretty dumb and random to just have random piercings somewhere around there with no dimension. I also want way more in my ears, dermals in my back dimples also once I've lost weight, my right nostril for the dozenth time (but this time I'll wear a hoop), and while I'd absolutely adore an undereye microdermal as well, it'd be pointless with glasses. :/ What's your favorite website? KM is my pride and joy and really feels like my online home, so despite using sites like YouTube more, that 'ole RP site has to be my fave. Do you own a fish tank with fish? No. I had fish bowls (AWFUL idea) as a kid, but never tanks Do you like the movie 300? Never seen it. Do you pop your knuckles? NOOOOOOOOOOO. I absolutely hate the sound. It makes me cringe and shiver. Do you have Photoshop? Yes. It comes in the Adobe CC photography bundle I have. Do you use tinypic or photobucket? I used Photobucket back in the day. Now I just upload to imgur. What’s your favourite song from the 1980s? You're talking to someone who adores classic rock/metal, haha. How about the 1990s? There are way too many songs to choose from. Have you won anything recently? No. How often do you make Excel tables? What for? Never. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? There was a poor fawn as roadkill on the highway recently. :/ Are you always available or online? Preeeetty much. Do you have dietary restrictions? Or do you just eat what you like? I can eat whatever. Do you prefer gold, silver or steel jewelry? Or no jewelry at all? Steel. I'm allergic to silver, and I think steel is more subtle than gold. Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? No. If you dye your hair, do you do it yourself or go to a salon? I do it at a salon. If you have any, do you like your in-laws? I don’t have any. Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? If they had a good reason, no. Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? As a kid I did because I thought Mom was meaner to me than my siblings, lol. What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? ........... This question is a setup lmfao. Have you ever grown a berry bush? No. Have you done something new to your hair recently? No. It's been the same for quite a while. I wanna dye it badly. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? I'm diagnosed with generalized and social anxiety, so yeah. I take Klonopin once and day and Ativan as needed for attacks. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? HA, the first thing to come to mind was being noticed by Mark by making a viral (in the community, anyway) gif of he and his doggy. I shit you not, I couldn't sleep for three days lmfao. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? That I gained fucking seven pounds in two months at my last doctor appointment. I wanted to scream. How often do you have late nights out? Never. I'm a homebody. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No. It would absolutely make me less productive. If you had the ability to change the weather, what would you change it to right now? Cool with a nice breeze, mostly clear skies, crisp air... That'd be nice right now. Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? I say it all the time: finish decorating my room. It's funny, because I KNOW I'll feel more at home and cozy with my bedroom more personalized. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity. The ending was... a lot. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? Not that I can think of. .-. I hope I can achieve some... Have you ever had food poisoning? No, thank God. What are you listening to? "The Man Who Made a Monster" by Dance With the Dead. Do you think there will be a WWIII? I find it inevitable at some point down humanity's future. People are too hateful for it not to eventually. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah. Has someone ever liked you that you never thought would? Maybe? Idk. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yes, in some instances. Has one of your friend’s boyfriends ever tried to cheat on them with you? Yes, when I was around 12. And I let it happen. It's one of my biggest regrets. Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? Of course it is. Emotional abuse can cut just as deep as some physical blows, or even deeper. Do you shop at Sephora for make-up? No. Zelda: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm actually not into TLoZ. Do you own a rosary? I did as a kid growing up in a Catholic Sunday school. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I had no loved ones in my life and no sign of things getting better, I'm honestly preeetty sure I'd end my life.

[inkblotsandeggshells]

My take on feminine enbodyment and female empowerment

This concept of modern feminism and pushing men out of the picture affects me differently than the average woman, because I was raised without a dad. When my mom adopted me and my other siblings, she never got married and instead asked her best female friend to step in and help raise all four of us. I was very loved, but I felt that absence of a father all my life. It affected nearly every part of my childhood and teenage years, and it continues to affect my adult life. I wanted to get a boyfriend and eventually get married, but the only constant guy in my life was my older brother. Therefore, I had very few examples of what respectful, good, masculine men looked like.

When I was a sophomore in college, my roommate at the time showed me a YouTube channel called Blimey Cow, and they had made a video called “Ten Ways to get the Right Guy to like You.” I hadn’t thought about this video or this channel in a few years, because they primarily make Christian content.  I’m not a Christian anymore, nor do I agree with all the beliefs of Christianity. However, I decided to go back to this video two days ago, because I remembered how these creators directly challenged how our culture defines female empowerment. Specifically they used this video to present that challenge, with an emphasis on noting the difference between female liberation and female objectification. Some of the suggestions they made to help girls find the right guys included showing interest in their hobbies, supporting their local chivalry, letting the guys in their lives know they appreciate them, putting less emphasis on how much skin they show and more emphasis on who they are as a person.  As a 20 year old college kid, these young content creators made a bigger impact on my views on men, women and the hyper-sexual movement than I would have thought. As a result, their video gave me the nudge to dive deeper into this topic through writing.

When you first learn of the term “female empowerment”, it sounds attractive enough: women being seen as a force to be reckoned with, authoritative, strong leaders who are goddesses in nearly every way. Rather than being stuck at home to take care of the kids, women are encouraged to pursue their career dreams, step into more masculine leadership roles and “be the boss”, for lack of a better term. It all sounds appealing until you start to dig deeper into what’s behind the phrase “female empowerment.” One big part of how I discovered this occurred last summer.

In July of 2020, I chose to invest a serious amount of money to an online holistic sex course. It was called Well-F*cked Woman, created by a woman named Kim Anami. Through using the tools learned through this six week course, Kim claims to have helped thousands of people all over the world, especially women, to connect with the untapped power of their sexual energy. She believes that a big reason why people are as stressed, unhealthy and unhappy as they are is because they’re not having the right kind of sex. Moreover, they’re not having the right kind of sex often enough. Whether you’re in a couple or single makes no difference. If you want to gain body confidence, get orgasms or even heal ancestral trauma, Kim claims this course would teach you how to obtain all those things by utilizing your sexual energy.

When I read the information on it, I became very intrigued. After several days of listening to her podcasts and reading her blogs, I became more convinced that this course could be a big help for my personal well-being.  At the time, my goal was to use the course to heal some of the imbalanced sacral energy I still had. Hopefully, it could even heal some ancestral wounds I carried in my DNA. If I achieved that, finding a romantic partner would be more of a bonus than a direct goal. So when I received the stimulus check from the government, I used that money to pay for the course and one of Kim’s jade yoni eggs.

For each of the six weeks, we would get a video with a written syllabus to discuss different topics, most of which revolved around sex. One week we would focus on self-love practices, one week we would talk about the relationship between sex and money, another week we learned about food, etc. In that first week, I began the exercises easily enough. However, I also started to feel very conflicted about the information we received in this course. For example, in the syllabus about self-love, one of the first statements Kim made about women is that “most have rape fantasies.” Admittedly, I didn’t really understand what that meant or what it was, until a friend told me. Once I did understand it, it bothered me deeply, to say the least. As someone who claimed that her work helped heal women’s sexual trauma, to hear Kim make such a statement right off the bat made me feel uneasy.

In a separate journal, I had written down my progress of the course and some of the conclusions I had made about what it taught and about the woman who taught it. In one entry, I had observed that it seemed to take a lot of money to become a “well-f*cked woman”, by Kim’s standards. If needed, it could possibly add up to hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. For instance, if you wanted to use a jade egg as a sexual healing tool, that cost $300. The six week course itself cost almost $1000. Kim also recommended using therapy injections to change your neural pathways, if you were a victim of sexual trauma.  Just getting one injection is expensive enough, but if you “need” more than one injection or appointment, that will add up fast. Sadly, such treatments are not easily accessible to everyone who wants sexual healing. It certainly wasn’t for me.

Additionally, a recurring message that came up in the course was that it’s important for couples to have sex more than once a week. In this case, it wasn’t talking about the faster paced sex described as being numb and fleeting. On the contrary, Kim wanted us to aim for the slower, orgasmic, breath focused sex where you’re working to maintain and build up a flow of sexual energy. While in some ways, this course educated people on sex differently than our modern culture, some aspects seem pretty similar to me. For example, one night stands are still seen as acceptable situations to practice generating this energy. We were encouraged to practice sex acts two to three times a week, to the point of becoming sex addicts. Also, even though Kim frowned upon pornography, we were still taught to utilize BDSM as a way to create polarity in our relationships. This was to make sure that “spark of passion” was maintained for the long term. Lastly, Kim would sometimes demonstrate problematic double standards when it came to showing examples of how to respect your partner. In one of her stories about “helping” her partner become confident with himself, she talked about making a point to touch his private parts in public, whether he was okay with it or not. If not, she claimed “it was his problem.” In my opinion, if they’re genders had been switched, she would have been called out for her disrespectful behavior immediately among the group.

In this class, Kim discouraged us from using substances like alcohol and drugs during the practice, because of how they damage the body. On the other hand, she promoted addictions to sex as something positive, as something to attain for as a human being. Whether you are in a couple doing the act or you’re a single adult who’s just masturbating, you were encouraged to have some kind of sex several times a week. According to Kim, it needed to get to the point where you felt you couldn’t go about your day without generating this energy. “What an addiction does is that it causes you to stop thinking,” says Michael Knowles, who was a guest on the Candace Owens Show discussing modern feminism.  “It enslaves you. It makes you prone to certain behavior, and when you’re not thinking, that’s when the people who want to grab power can come in and force it on you.” Too much of anything can be detrimental for your well-being, on all levels.  During a time where protection of boundaries for my spiritual life had become very important, this way of thinking pushed me to discover what kind of boundaries I had and to stick to them. In this case, it lead me to the conclusion that if being like Kim meant being addicted to sex, disrespecting the men I care about, and using methods of sexual control for the sake of “polarity”, then I would rather not be like her at all.

With all that being said, I believe the big question is this: how exactly does the WAP culture of free sex and female empowerment differ from the holistic sex culture I learned about in the summer of 2020? How does our pop culture differ from the Well-F*cked Woman course, in how we’re being educated about sex? In my opinion, one culture pushes the more superficial, fleeting benefits of sex in our faces, while the other pushes for using sex and sexual energy as a way to harness untapped power. This power can, supposedly, be used to energize us, heal our bodies, and manifest things into our lives. Regardless, both cultures seem to be more concerned with using sex to gain power than using it as a means to express true love.  Both cultures seem to encourage women to “embrace their femininity” by leaving their underwear off more often. Both cultures seem to promote double standards on how partners should respect each other and their boundaries. Both cultures still push us to become addicted to sex in order to have a fulfilled, happier life, because according to them, every aspect of our lives will disintegrate without it.

As a result of the lockdown, last year turned out to be most isolating time for us, and it was intense enough to put many people into a deep state of depression. At a time when everyone is stuck online and forced to keep further apart, this is when people in the online sex business—holistic or otherwise—will benefit the most from that loneliness. They can use it to make those profits and fill their own pockets. This becomes more obvious when you observe their marketing tactics, including the ones I noticed for Kim Anami’s website: unless you give me your money and do what I tell you to do, you will never be “well-f*cked.” Everything in your life will deteriorate unless you become “well-f*cked.” You will be a brainwashed zombie forever, easily manipulated, unless you become “well-f*cked.”As my friend Lee Yun would say, “These tactics are designed to create an empty void in people that can’t be filled.” In the cases of some individuals, even if they were to try, it would cost them more time, money and energy than they were lead to believe.

For those of you who wonder if I still keep up with the practices I learned from this course, I haven’t. At least, I haven’t kept up to the degree that would be necessary. My jade egg is sitting on my altar collecting dust, even as I write this. Because of the amount of money I spent to buy the egg, this is not something I’m proud to admit. A jade egg is a sacred, special tool that deserves to be put to use for the highest good, and eventually, I will find a teacher that can help me do so. I just don’t want to have to conform to this holistic “WAP” standard to get there.

Surprisingly, by reflecting on my past through watching Blimey Cow’s videos, I realized there are still some values about sex, intimacy and femininity that I learned as a teenage Christian that matter to me now as an adult witch. In my opinion, sex is something very sacred that should not be taken so lightly, because of how it connects you to your partner in an intense, physical and spiritual way. For me, I take it seriously enough to still choose to wait until I get a husband and to choose not to masturbate. Additionally, when I do have sex with my lifelong partner, it will be as much about him as it will be about me. This means respecting and honoring him as a man as well as I know how. In my opinion, if you encourage people to use something like sex to attain higher spiritual goals, but neglect to show basic respect to your partner’s boundaries about his body, then in the words of Jordan Taylor from Blimey Cow, “you’re doing it wrong.”

 Michael Knowles interview with Candace Owens on the Candace Owens Show: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejWIEMs8ecg

Blimey Cow’s YouTube video, “Ten Ways to Get the Right Guy to Like You”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqF_PtugyBk

[lizzieraindrops]

Your chance to make the sun rise thrice (Chapter 2)

a river that still runs (8803 words)

Beth Childs has come to Helsinki to meet her best friend Veera for the first time in the Herbs on the windowsill universe, an alternate timeline where the original Helsinki massacre was prevented and DYAD routed by Clone Club Alpha’s successful publicity stunt back in 2001. Veera Suominen and Niki Lintula survived and decided to live in a little apartment together as qpp’s. Numerous Leda clones worldwide are now in contact via a secure online network that Veera maintains. 

Note: This chapter is a bit heavier than the rest of the AU. Beth is still struggling with a lot of the same challenges in this universe, even if the events causing them are somewhat different because of such early canon divergence. But the whole point of this story is that things can end up okay no matter how rough it's been. She's getting the help she needs and she's gonna be alright. That said, warning for soft discussion of past abuse, the effects of trauma, depression and anxiety, and some suicidal ideation. And of course, lots of love and learning how to heal, with support from her best friend.

Fun fact: Veera's username is 3mika, and she always sets her font to the precise warm turquoise of hex color #2299aa. She thinks she's hilarious, and she's right. 

Also on AO3  |  Playlist  |  Aesthetic sideblog

Part 1: Herbs on the windowsill

Part 2: Someday colors

Part 3: Your chance to make the sun rise thrice  |  Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3

***

Beth wakes on a squashy couch that isn't hers. Morning-soft sunlight pours through the window above her, bouncing back off the walls to fill even the shady corners with a warm secondhand glow. Her limbs are soft, splayed under unfamiliar blankets and sinking into the cushions. She doesn't move yet.

The apartment. Helsinki. Beth's really here. She holds herself still, letting the truth sink into her. She half expects the usual anxious tension to clench her into a ball the instant she moves a muscle, but it isn't there. Neither is the invisible weight that so often pins her immobile. She still wakes frequently with both of them holding her body hostage, keeping her muscles unmoving but restless, even in sleep. Right now though, they're gone. She just lies there, soft beneath the window.

It's quiet but not silent. The occasional car on the little road outside chuckles as it passes. A soft rush of water echoes through pipes in the walls, running toward an early riser in another unit. These sounds fall strangely on Beth's Toronto-bred ears, isolated in the stillness of this of this little apartment on the outskirts of the city. Still, the early-morning atmosphere settles comfortably into her jet-lagged bones, murmuring a rhythm for her to sink into. The temporal upheaval of a transcontinental red-eye and a series of exhausted naps yesterday have left her a little unbalanced. And yet, here she is waking up with the day, and the ground under her feels so much more stable than she’s used to.

Beth breaks her stillness with a deep, deep breath that she can feel expanding all the way down to her feet. She stretches, too, but soon pulls the toes that get exposed back underneath the warm, scratchy blanket. The cushions of the old couch creak a little in complaint as she shifts, but her limbs remain supple. For a time, she just observes the sensations. Then, her awareness spreads beyond the couch and the window to the rest of the room.

All around her, an oddly blocky pattern covers the walls. It's one of the first things she noticed when she walked into the apartment yesterday afternoon. The pattern isn't wallpaper like it appears at first glance, but actually a multitude of small photographs. Most of them are unframed, but taped up in crisply aligned rows. In them, she sees the same face infused with a hundred different lives. Just above her, a sleeping, slack-jawed redhead with bulky headphones around her neck sprawls on the very same couch Beth's laying on now. A few rows down, a brunette and a blonde with their long hair in matching wild waves are leaning all over each other and grinning like devils. One of the few framed photos shows a girl with a hospital-short buzz cut and a delighted expression, sitting in front of what looks like a mouthwatering strawberry shortcake. Beth can see at least six others in the background behind strawberry girl. Among them are Mika with her unmistakable scars and Niki with her bright blonde hair, their arms around each other's shoulders.

Morning light glances off the glossy surfaces of the photos on the west wall. The particularly bright reflection off one of the framed photos draws Beth's eye. With a tiny jolt, Beth recognizes one of her own selfies beneath the glass. In it, she's wearing the same old turquoise blue sweatshirt that's spilling out of her suitcase next to the couch right now. Underneath it, she's wearing her track gear, so the photo is at least two years old. She'd had to quit cross-country so she could try to get the shitshow her life had become under control. She vaguely recalls sending it to Mika a long time ago. It's strange to think that her presence has been in this apartment for so long.

She's here. In Finland. Staying with Mika – Mika - and Niki. Far, far away from everything.

Sprawling on the couch she slept on with a sigh as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Beth can't believe she's really gone and done it. She's run so far away that there's an ocean between her and her problems. It’s so much better than she's dreamed, even if it's only for a little while. It’s worth it, even though she'll be going back far too soon. For the first time in years, it feels like she’s where she’s supposed to be right now.

It had all started out as foolish idea she'd floated one Saturday morning, months ago. She hadn't been serious at all. She'd woken up so relieved at not having to get up and go to work, until she remembered her weekly therapy appointment with a hopeless groan.

Putting off the genuinely daunting prospect of hauling herself out of bed, she reached out to snag her phone from on top of her dresser, checking to see if she'd heard from Mika overnight. After all, Helsinki was nine hours ahead, so Mika had already seen most of the day that was just beginning for Beth. They talked so often these days, since they'd first made contact over two years ago. Rarely a day passed without touching base. But there wasn’t anything since Beth had checked last night. She took it upon herself to send the first message of the day.

runwaterblue: god, i dont wanna get up and deal with any of thsi shit today

After her world fell apart, after finding out about Project Leda, after realizing that all her nightmares and more were real, after her father...

runwaterblue: wish i could come visit u and get away form everything for awhile

Mika replied almost immediately.

3mika: you can

It was evening in her time zone, but to be honest, Beth had no idea if she had anything resembling a regular sleep schedule. The girl was always online.

3mika: though you really should go to your appointment. you always feel better afterward

runwaterblue: howd you know i have therapy today

3mika: you always have an appointment saturday afternoons

runwaterblue: yes but how do you remember that? i cant evne remember my own appts lmao

3mika: you mentioned it months ago when you switched from sundays to saturdays

Beth shook her head with a smile. Mika was so good with details.

3mika: anyway. you’re welcome here, if you can get here

3mika:  it would be great to see you

3mika: Niki wouldn't mind. we've had a bunch of Ledas visit us here, it's always fun

3mika: except that one time Dani and Ary got into a fight over football. some French-Italian team rivalry thing. that was not fun.

Beth laughed. It was funny how Mika was so good at making her do that, even on days like these. She leaned back against her pillow and held her phone over her head without sitting up, being careful not to drop it on her own face. She'd done that before. More times than she'd admit.

runwaterblue: i was kidding. id love to visit, but idk how id get there

runwaterblue: u should see the americans go off abt their football lmao. they're nerly as bad as the hockey freaks here

3mika: pls no

3mika: no more sports. it was a year ago and I’m still exhausted

3mika: sports are banned in this apartment.

Beth snorted. Mika wanted nothing to do with sports of any kind, and with Beth's athletic record, the topic had become a point of mutual teasing between them.

In so many ways, they were such different people, DNA be damned. Mika was reticent where Beth was outgoing. (Or at least, Beth had been. She was never quite sure how to think of herself these days.) Clone drama aside, Beth had been a pretty average Canadian high schooler. She got reasonable grades, played a few sports, and kept mostly out of trouble because there would be hell to pay if she didn’t. Mika was a brilliant homeschooled autistic orphan who had been raised in near isolation by her guardian after surviving the hospital fire that marked her skin for life. Beth mostly listened to pop music, and where no one else could hear, the occasional classical symphony. Mika held fast to Finland's weird obsession with death metal and dabbled in literally everything else.

And yet, Mika understands Beth like no one else does. And it's not just because they've both been through all this Project Leda bullshit. Though Beth doesn't know what she would have done without Mika to help her through that, too.

Beth won't ever be able to forget the moment that everything changed. Recognizing a her own face from the mirror on the evening news stopped her in her tracks, as something in her gut caved in with the hollow certainty that it wasn't her. Then face after face flickered before her, a flipbook barrage of déja vu. Blonde and smiling. Scarred and pensive. Braids and piercings and a rakish grin. Beth was rooted in place as people she had never been wearing things she had never worn said things she was never supposed to know.

That utter strangeness on the screen immediately seeped into her life like an oil slick into a river, tainting every thing she thought she knew with clinging uncertainty. Her father was inexplicably even more upset about it than Beth was, yet adamant that they shouldn't look into the matter. But it was already too late to stop herself from thinking. With slow horror, the truth of what exactly his behavior must mean dawned on her. And yet, even with the desperate growing certainty about who her Leda monitor must be, it was hard to believe that he could be anything other than her plain stern father.

He was always a bit strict and overprotective - probably well more than a bit, she realizes these days. But she’d thought that's just what it was like to be a cop's daughter. He'd never done anything really extreme, nothing beyond the firm discipline any kid could expect. He was just not a man to be trifled with, that was all. So until everything she thought she knew shifted that day and threatened to topple every assumption she’d built her life on, she had never truly dared to cross him.

Outright daring him to say to her face that he wasn't her monitor was probably considered a step beyond trifling. He did not take it kindly.

Two months later, Beth and her mother were living in an apartment on the opposite side of the city. It took two months for the two of them to lay plans to leave together, for good. For two months, her every move was watched. She spent two months knowing there would be hell to pay if she didn't give the performance of a lifetime pretending everything was fine, even while sirens blared inside her day and night. Two months was more than enough to teach her things she never wanted to know about the hidden marks fear leaves on the body.

Even after she finally escaped, her life was in tatters and nothing made sense. It wasn’t just the sudden jarring discovery of Project Leda, or the crisis it had forced her to confront. It was learning that, deep down, she had known that she’d never once felt free. She’d unconsciously kept herself from knowing to avoid exactly that conflict of wills that she’d known she would lose.

Trying to come to terms with what had happened and how it changed everything, Beth was continuously losing her balance. Questioning which parts of her life had been screwed over by her father and which by being part of some ridiculous supervillain science experiment was like trying to stand on two kickboards in a pool. She couldn't find her footing, and all she could do was try and stay afloat. She had to repeat her whole junior year of high school that she lost to this shitshow, while starting over at a new school, and only barely scraped her way into senior year. Now that she knew how honestly terrible she'd been at judging who in her life she could trust, it was as hard to talk to old friends as it was to make new ones.

Therapy helped her start sorting out what she was feeling, and how the environment she’d grown up in was really not the healthiest. She hadn’t realized how much she’d learned to doubt her own perceptions. That made constructing any kind of new understanding of her situation an uphill struggle. And of course, her therapist couldn’t help her confirm anything about a human experiment that was so illegal it had been an international secret. As she continued to stumble forward, Beth even started doubting her former certainty of the identity of her Leda monitor. She questioned herself and everything she knew until she wanted to scream with frustration or weep with confusion. The floor of the counselor’s office could have been mopped with her tears. It was, quite literally, driving her mad.

So, finally, Beth had taken up the invitation on the banner of every Leda news feature to "Contact the secure, clone-run Clone Youth Group Network (CYGNet) for answers by emailing info@cygnet.org."

She wanted something concrete that would help convince her brain to stop reenacting these head games that warped her reality. It still insisted on playing through the patterns it had been taught, even in its teacher’s absence. She needed something that could brace her against the ideas that she was really just paranoid, overreacting, accusing, that this was all her fault for making a big deal out of nothing. Even with his other faults (cruelties, her mind whispered) aside, at least his involvement with Project Leda was unforgivable, and she wanted proof of it. Maybe if she had that, she could stop being mad at herself for not wanting to forgive. And if anyone had that proof, CYGNet would.

Maybe it was just because of the sheer blunt honesty about her motives, or the inescapable vulnerability of the message Beth sent, but Mika had replied to her within a day. And she'd been so gentle about it, too, enough to make Beth later question where the stereotype of autistic brashness came from. Then again, over email, Mika had all the time she needed to compose her thoughts and lay them out as softly as she wanted. She didn't have to spit them out as fast as she could to keep pace with a quick and painfully overwhelming world.

Hi Beth Childs,

I'm so sorry for what you had to go through. I still don't know how they got away with doing things like this for so long. I suppose people will always find ways to be cruel. But we've survived this long, and the whole point of CYGNet is to help us all heal. The experimental network has been dismantled, and we are assembling resources to help us. We've brought mental health professionals on to the project to develop custom programs for our needs. We can make them available to you, if you are interested.

I attached scans of some of your files that we recovered from DYAD. There are a few case reports with the signature of the person you asked about, spaced throughout your lifetime. There are also financial records with his name in the list of paid employees. He was without a doubt part of the Leda monitor program. I can provide all of the documentation that we have related to you, if you like, but I thought that would be too much all at once. I know these are hard to look at, but I hope they help let your mind rest. They are very real, and every awful thing we have experienced was also real, no matter how they tried to convince everyone that we were making it all up.

Please take your time with these, and stay in contact if you want to. You can join our mailing list, if you want to know when we have new information or new resources available. We're here for you.

And hey, if you just want to talk to someone who knows what it's like to deal with all of this, I'm here, too. You can reach my personal inbox or IM me at wiz.of.dos@cygnet.org. It'll be okay.

-Veera

Beth had started crying before she even finished reading the letter, much less opened the attachments. She cried so often these days. She only knew why half the time. But this time, it felt like the tears were extracting some of her pain as they left her, instead of just overflowing from the unending wellspring of her directionless distress. All of this was real, and someone else knew it.

Though she was grateful beyond measure for her mother’s untiring support, they were each other’s too-close, ever-present reminders of what they’d survived, trying to act like they weren’t, trying to convince each other and themselves that they were okay. Beth had needed something else, too, something until now unnamed.

This was a handhold, a backstop Beth didn't know she'd been desperate to find. It wasn't just the confirmation of what she’d concluded about her father. The ability speak plainly to someone she didn't feel the need to pretend around was an exhale of a breath held too long. At least one person in the world not only understood, but really and truly didn't want or expect her to act like any of this was normal or okay, or that she would ever be the same again.

Veera – or Mika, as she often went by online – made good on her offer of a sympathetic ear. Their correspondence started off with awkward, grammatically correct messages about the less painful details of their lives. Mika told her about the farmer’s market three blocks away where she went walking early in the morning before it got busy, and the plant stand there that her best friend and roommate Niki (also a Leda) had to ask her to stop buying so many succulents from.

At first, Beth tried to chatter like she used to, but there were no safe subjects. What had happened had touched all of her life. Normally, she’d talk about school, or sports, or her friends. But she was trying to start all over again at a new school with all the struggles that came with it. She didn’t have the time or energy for sports anymore, and talking about them hurt, now. Running used to make her heart sing. But no matter how she tried, there was no joy in the motion anymore. To top it all off, it was as hard to connect with old friends from her old life as it was to try and make new ones. She spent most interactions either doubting her own character judgement or dreading the moment people recognized her Leda face from the news.

She didn’t know how to talk about any of it to anyone. Maybe she could have if it had been just the clone thing or just the dad thing. But the two were inextricably entangled, and she still couldn’t even explain it to herself. It was all unbelievably horrifying, and any time she tried to be honest about it, people ended up disbelieving or horrified. Shocker.

Maybe, though, it wouldn’t be weird to talk about it with Mika. Mika already knew the worst. Beth didn’t have to hide that hurt from her to keep from shaking her world, or to keep her dismissal from hurting Beth. Maybe that’s what was hurting the most: the feeling that even after escaping, she still had to pretend to be okay. That compulsive stifling feeling choked her whenever it bubbled back up. On her bad days, a simple “how are you?” could reduce her to a blank face plastered over a raw tangle of emotions held motionless her own iron grip.

But Mika mentioned having bad days, too. Days came where she was too scared and nightmare-weary to do anything but make herself some tea and soak up some sunlight in the safety of home. Beth could casually say things like after those two months, i still twitch every time i hear a door open, and i wish my body would quit feeling like it doesn’t exist, my legs feel numb. It barely broke the surface of what it was like in her head, but was discomfiting enough for people that she held her tongue at school.

Sometimes, Beth got tired of constantly thinking about all this shit and tried to lighten things up. On one comically disastrous occasion of cultural exchange, she liveblogged Mika her attempt at eating the infamous Scandinavian lutefisk, along with an audio recording of the incoherent horrified noises she made after tasting it. In return, she received a recording of someone, presumably Mika, laughing harder than she’d ever heard anyone laugh before. It made Beth smile. Not many things did, back then.

Slowly, as the formality fell away from their transcontinental conversations, their heavier stories seething below the surface seeped in. Beth had been in therapy long enough now to know that she couldn't just recklessly unload on people the way she did in counseling sessions. But a counselor couldn't always provide the same kind of unspoken solidarity that someone in the same boat could.

Bit by bit, slipped into the chats that were becoming a daily occurrence, they talked about monitors, about what the experiment had really all been for, why that both was and wasn’t important, and how they'd discovered they were a part of Project Leda. Putting words to the pain hurt, a lot. But the ability to lay out long-unspoken truths in front of each other, knowing they were believed in the way that only people who have shared something can, was a healing kind of pain instead of the festering one Beth had been living with.

The two of them had more in common than they'd thought, growing up a world apart. Beth's experience raised under the subconscious wariness of her father's hovering thumb felt a lot like what Mika described growing up largely isolated with her former guardian. But sometimes, whenever they realized that something they'd both thought was normal was pretty not, they got a good laugh out of it despite the weight of their pasts. Mika seemed somewhat accustomed to her normal being considered pretty weird, so she usually took the revelations in stride better than Beth did. Beth wouldn't find out for at least a year after meeting her that it was because of her Asperger's, since it was a topic Mika seemed quite sensitive about.

Mika explained it once, in a conversation full of long pauses on her part and watching the typing icon disappear and reappear on Beth’s. The way she put it, it just meant that her brain worked a bit differently than most people's, processing sounds and sights and all the information it took in at different speeds and with different emphases. The difference could turn everyday things like the sound of a refrigerator running into a splitting headache, or something as simple as the soft texture of her favorite jacket into a kind of bliss. That alternative way of processing also extended to things like words and emotions as well. Sometimes, it took her longer than the world was willing to wait to process them into something that made sense. It often made communication tricky, trying to compensate for the gap in mutual understanding with most people. The world and the people in it could be so overwhelming sometimes, so fast and bright and full of noise and uncertainty and bewilderingly arbitrary social conventions. But the biggest challenge was other people expecting her to do everything the same way they did, ignorant of the fact there were any ways to exist other than their own, and completely oblivious to the fact that she was already putting in at least twice as much effort to communicate with them as they were with her.

And yet, even coming from such a different perspective, Mika gets it. Beth says sometimes i dream of drowning and its not a nightmare and i wake up not knowing how to feel, and Mika says I still dream of burning and wake up not knowing which fires are real, and they both say yeah. And they sit there across the world from each other knowing these things, knowing that it doesn't fix anything. And yet, it does change something. Nothing's any better, really. But somehow, the knowledge that someone else understands makes it a little easier to bear.

And that's just it. Somehow, without ever even having seen her face, Mika sees Beth clearer than anyone. All of her, all the ugly parts she hides so that they can't hurt anyone, and all the good parts that she also hides so that nobody can hurt them or take them away from her. Mika sees all of that and then just tells Beth another story about the Northern Lights she sees on the regular. Apparently, in Finnish, they’re called "fox fires." Beth hardly ever sees the aurora, living relatively far south in a bright city. But her stories about life in the metropolis by the lake intrigue Mika as much as the tales of the twisting green lights do her. And Beth can talk about something lighter again while not having to pretend that the heaviness isn’t there, too, even while she’s just once more trying and failing to explain poutine. For her, the weight never really goes away. But the effort of pretending she’s not carrying it takes more out of her than the weight itself. Mika understands that.

Maybe that’s why Beth had talked it over with Mika first, even before her mom, when she was considering taking a gap year after she hopefully managed to finish her senior year of high school. (God, it was so hard to think about English or math or whatever when just that morning she’d woken from a nightmare about being back in a not-home house that she never escaped.) Beth's mom had been so unbelievably supportive of Beth's recovery, even while she herself was adjusting to the wrenching change in both of their lives. It was both inspiring and a little intimidating. If her mom managed to run a household and raise a daughter all on her own, even while trying to heal from her own trauma, how could Beth not do her utmost, too? She was grateful to be able to talk to Mika about it, to get a reality check from someone who both understood her situation intimately and didn't make Beth feel that pressure of expectation. In the end, Beth did decide to take a year or two off before considering college, and her mom was again nothing if not supportive. Beth figured, after this entire mess, she deserved some time to herself to work on sorting her shit out, and her mom agreed.

After graduating with reasonable if not flying colors, Beth worked a series of part-time and odd jobs that didn't stress her out too much, letting herself focus on her own healing. In between her mom's support, seeing a counselor regularly, and the security of having a friend she could really trust, Beth felt like she was making progress. Slow progress, sure, but progress, nonetheless. Considering that she had seventeen years' worth of lies to unbelieve and emotional trauma to finally acknowledge, Beth figured that there was only so much she could do in the three years she'd had.

Her days were still hard. Getting sleep and waking up and eating and even just existing were still so fucking hard sometimes, and it was horrible. Some days, the thinnest sheet trapped her in bed like it was a car pinning her down. It felt so stupid for such simple things to be so hard. But then her therapist would remind her that that’s what mental illness and trauma was, that this was what the wounds in her mind and heart made her feel like. And once in awhile, sun broke through the shadows, and she had a day that reminded her what an okay day felt like – that okay days existed. That more might.

Now, she’s here, lying in a bright living room so far from home, with her dearest friend in the next room. She’s comfortable, except for the knot in her neck from sleeping oddly on the couch. The soreness pales in comparison to the usual tensions that are so strangely absent. Beth can’t remember the last time she felt this okay. She’s not steeling herself to go to work. She’s not dreading the next conversation with her mother that goes quiet as they both remember awful things they don’t mention. She’s not bracing herself for the next time her brain runs rampant worrying about whether she’ll run into the subject of her restraining order somewhere in the city and have to wonder if he'll honor it.

None of that reaches her here. There’s something about this quiet little pocket of space. It’s overrun with a proliferation of potted plants, from the sprawling lacy-leafed monster in the corner, to the fern peeping out of the kitchen, to the vine cuttings spilling out of an oddly familiar leaf-shaped glass bottle on the sill. Sunlight streaks through leaves and windowpanes and across the colorful patchwork of rugs on the floor. In the midst of it all, Beth is held by a palpable aura of gentleness. It holds her so softly that she doesn't need to hold herself in. It's like the layer of caution that she always keeps wrapped between herself and the rest of the world has simply dissolved away. In this moment suspended in morning light, she is okay.

She feels safe.

The realization undoes something in her. She feels the tears starting, and she expects the taut tension of involuntary stifling that always comes with them to return. But it doesn’t. She lies still and soft on the couch with the water creeping over her cheeks, breath occasionally catching but flowing freely. She savors it in the quiet.

The soft thunk of an ill-fitted door opening breaks into her odd reverie. Mika’s up. Beth sniffs and scrubs at her eyes halfheartedly, but she can’t hide them right now and she doesn’t want to. Mika notices immediately, and comes trotting over with quiet steps, leaning forward all concern.

"Beth," she says softly. She shifts from foot to foot like a nervous cat, watching Beth with enormous eyes. Beth has never met anyone else with such an intense stare. Or maybe it's just the fact that Beth knows beyond all doubt that she's being looked at by somebody who really sees her in her entirety. It's like she's staring right into Beth's soul. But Mika was able to do that long before they saw each others' faces. They've shared so many thousands of words over screens and seas, so many emotions that have gone otherwise unspoken, so many too-early mornings and too-late nights on the fringes of each other's dawns and dusks.

“What’s wrong?”

Finally, a flash of that sick tension runs through Beth’s body. It’s been okay when Mika has asked that before, when it was just silent letters on a screen. But out loud, the question falls on her ears like every well-meaning inquiry she’s ever had to scramble to find an acceptable answer for. The strain begins to cinch tight around her again like coarse ropes across barely-healed skin, ready to compel her to replace the truth with something safer. Her arms and legs tied, she begins to freeze, railing against herself for tainting the softness, the safety of this place.

"Beth." Mika says again, softer but more urgent.

In the gap between thoughts created by hearing her name, Beth seizes the chance to redirect them to the present. She clings to the welling in the corners of her eyes, the warmth of the sun caressing her back. The leaves of trees whisper outside the third-floor window in a mild breeze. The brightness spills over the sill and across Mika’s asymmetrical, half-craggy face and lights up tufts of her short hair as she steps closer. The couch dips as Mika sits down next to her, tilting Beth toward her.

Without meeting her eyes, Mika lifts a hesitant hand that hovers in the air between them, uncertain yet reaching. Her gentle palm falls onto Beth's forearm as softly as a floating leaf. The fingers curl around Beth’s arm just below the wrist, firm but not tight. Comforting.

The softness surrounding Beth seeps back into her, saturating her. As the memory fades like a ripple into water, the tension slackens. But it leaves her shaky, with traces of a familiar ache in her neck muscles, one that goes deeper than the simple stiffness from the couch. She sucks in a few unsteady breaths while Mika gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry,” Beth says in a small, awkward voice.

Mika tilts her head. “Why?”

“Uh, I didn’t mean to bring all – this mess, in here.” Beth rubs the back of her neck with her free hand. “It’s so... soft, and okay, and – I don’t wanna ruin it,” she says, trailing off into a mumble.

“Hey.” Mika moves her hand from Beth’s arm to her shoulder. When Beth looks at her, she’s looking right back. Mika's eyes dart down to the floor for a moment, but then return to hold Beth’s with deliberate steadiness. “It’s alright. It’s like this here because we wanted it to be safe to be messy. You’re not ruining anything.”

“... Oh.” She’s steadied by Mika’s fingers curling around her shoulder, by the tendrils of sunlight spreading across her head and back and arms. Mika’s voice is small but steady, and somehow it comes from the same throat that makes that huge pealing laugh. It’s so strange how they sound nothing alike. Until yesterday, Beth hadn’t heard her voice since the lutefisk incident. They’d mostly kept to text and pictures. It had seemed easier, the way it gave them both plenty time to think before they spoke through their different uncertainties. Beth was already planning her trip before they realized that they’d never actually called each other. By that point, it sounded like more fun to meet in person the old-fashioned way.

"I'll make you some tea." Mika abruptly stands and lets go of her. Beth is sad to lose the contact. She flits across the room toward the kitchen in her soft cotton pajama pants, complemented by yet another black graphic tee for yet another Scandinavian metal band Beth's never heard of. Or at least, she'd never heard of them before Mika, who has something to say about all of them, and now Beth knows more than she'll ever need to.

Mika moves in and out of view behind the half-wall that separates the little living room from the kitchen. The fronds of the fern on the counter make a green rustling as she brushes by them. It sends soft feathered shadows waving across the wall opposite the window. Beth hears the rush of water boiling out of sight, and soon sees steam rising from the mug that's being handed to her.

"It's hot," Mika says unnecessarily. She sits down next to her again, this time leaning into Beth with her arm. Beth’s glad for it.

"Have you ditched the bags and gone loose leaf?" Beth says, eyeing the fragments of bright green leaf free floating in her mug.

"It didn't come in a bag. It came from the window."

"The window?"

"It's basil tea. For the fear and pain. Five large fresh leaves in two hundred and fifty milliliters water. We grew it here."

Beth takes a cautious sip. It's surprisingly sweet, and the savory smell of the steam rising from it curls into her sinuses. The aching in her head and neck begin to relax. It's unfamiliar, but it feels like home should, just like everything else here.

"Thanks," Beth says. On an impulse of craving closeness, she leans her head onto Mika's shoulder with a sigh. The sensation of contact deepens as Mika leans against her, too.

Beth holds the cup close, fingers wrapping around its warmth. She takes another sip and gets a bit of leaf stuck in her teeth. The way she scrunches up her face trying to dislodge it pulls a tiny laugh out of Mika.

“You don’t have to be okay here,” Mika whispers. “You can just be. That’s what we do.”

Beth finds her eyes wet again, but she smiles while she sets her mug down and wipes them away. “Kinda already wish I could stay here,” she says with a chuckle.

“... That’s probably not impossible.”

“Really?” Beth asks wryly. “Not even twenty-four hours, and you’d already be willing to put up with me?”

“Twenty-four hours and twenty-seven months.”

Beth melts a little even while waving the idea aside. “I wasn’t serious.”

“I know, but... weren’t you looking at the school here?”

“I mean, yeah, but... really, my mom just thought I deserved a break to get away for a little while. She’d saved up a bit, and I didn’t want to make it a big deal or anything, but she really wanted me to. She knew I wanted to come see you. Checking out the school was mostly an excuse. I know it’s a great place, but... I don’t really think it’ll help with what I wanna do.”

“What do you want to do?”

Beth sighs and leans back, looking at the ceiling. Mika follows her so that they’re still shoulder to shoulder, and pulls her feet up to tuck them in cross-legged.

She flounders for a moment, trying to find where to begin. She hasn’t told anyone this yet.

“This Leda crap has been kind of awful, right? It’s screwed so many of us up. But there’s only, what, a few hundred of us? And that’s not the only reason things get messed up.” She swallows. Her eyes trace irregularities in the ceiling: a knot in an exposed wooden beam here, a sealed and repainted crack there. “Kids like me are a dime a dozen. There’s so many people out there going through hell, just because they got stuck with people who are hurting so much that they hurt other people. And then they go on and hurt more people. It’s a cycle that’s really fucking hard to break.”

Breaths that have become harsh force her to pause and let them lengthen again. A touch on her knee draws her eyes down to a hand resting on it palm up, offering. Beth takes it. Mika squeezes her fingers in reassurance.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a cop like my dad, did you know that?” Mika, eyes wide, shakes her head. “Yeah. That was always my plan. I used to think he was so brave. Wanted to be just like him.” She shudders. Mika grips her hand, steady. “Even if I could do it better than he did, the system is still full of people like him. It’s broken. I couldn’t – I can’t end up like that. I can’t keep being a part of this shit. I want to actually help people.

“I never thought about it before I met you, but the people you brought in to do therapy programs and all for CYGNet? They’re amazing. The stuff I’ve gotten from them has helped me so much. And I don’t know what I’d do without my regular therapist. These people really help people like me. Like all of us. Those are the kind of people I wanna be like.”

Beth’s voice drops and becomes small and secretive, but firm. “I’ve been looking at the social work programs at home. There’s some really good ones at the uni near where mom and I live now. And that’s the city where I grew up. I know how things work there. I know it won’t be easy, but. I could really... do stuff.”

Silence stretches. Beth looks at Mika, only to be completely thrown off by an expression she can’t make heads or tails of. “What?”

Mika’s face is blank yet soft, only barely hinting at her thoughts in the faintest crinkling of her eyes. It’s funny, how quiet her face is most of the time. Beth never would have guessed, going off her online impressions of her. Mika’s so expressive and eloquent with her written words. In person, she is much more subtle. But even after only a day spent around her, Beth is already starting to see how her movements speak volumes in a language of their own. The flickering of her hands flares to life with excitement. The casual shake of her head tosses her hair out of her eyes even when it’s not in the way, like she’s clearing the slate of her mind. And much like Beth these days, she goes very still and tense when she’s getting uncomfortable or overwhelmed, the way she did after a particularly loud whistle at the train station. It shows in her shoulders. They’re soft now though, and she just watches Beth and squeezes her hand once more.

“You’re really amazing, you know,” Mika says.

“Wh- huh?”

“Well.” She looks away and turns their hands over, but doesn’t let go. “After the awful things you’ve been through – nnnh! Don’t pretend,” she says, looking back sharply as Beth begins to protest that she didn’t have it that bad. Mika knows her so well. Beth can’t help but laugh a little. “After all that, you just want to help people. All I ever want to do is get away from them, most of the time.”

Beth quirks a brow at her with a bemused grin. “Really? Because setting up and running an organization that provides mental health resources and extremely important information to a few hundred people is a really shit way to not help people.”

“I never talk to most of them! And CYGNet only has one hundred and thirteen members, not hundreds.”

Beth rolls her eyes with an exaggerated motion. “Yeah, so, you’ve somehow convinced, what, a whole freaking third of a huge group of scared strangers to trust you?”

“A lot of that was Niki and the press team, she’s way better at talking to people th–”

“And you’ve been careful enough and clever enough to keep them and all the information you got from DYAD safe and secure? I can’t even imagine the organization and, and cyber-security and whatever the hell else you put into all this. That you still put in. And look what you’ve done. You’re helping so many people. You found something only you could do, and do it really damn well.”

Mika looks down into her lap, half her face flushed. The raised ridges and swirls of the scarred side are pink, but not as dark. Her shoulders curl in a little, but she doesn’t pull her hand away from Beth’s. If anything, she holds on a little tighter.

“You don’t have to like talking to people to help them. You don’t have to be someone you’re not,” Beth says gently, then pauses as a new thought occurs to her. “Why did you talk to me?”

Mika gives a tiny shrug, eyes still downcast. “You reached out to me. Most people are scared, or suspicious, or hard to talk to, but you were just... honest. You told me exactly what you needed, even if that meant sharing your painful secrets with a stranger. I...” She trails off, looking toward the closed door of Niki’s bedroom. She blinks slowly.

“It reminded me of something Niki said a long time ago. When we first met. We didn’t trust each other at first. But when things got bad, we needed to, and she just... We’d only known each other for a day. She told me a true story that people had called her crazy for, and trusted me to believe her. And when I told her about... my Asperger’s, about being autistic, she just told me something about herself, too, another thing that a lot of people get cruel about when they know. This was back before she came out, too. She was hardly out to herself, then, really. But she told me anyway. ‘Secret for a secret,’ she said.”

“She’s really special to you.” It’s not a question. How could it be, with the sheer softness of love rounding out every syllable and making Mika melt into the couch and into Beth’s shoulder.

“She’s... yes. She’s my family.” Mika looks out the window, and the bright light dances over her nose. “I don’t remember ever having one.”

Beth slings an arm around Mika’s shoulders and smiles as she curls closer into Beth’s side. “Looks like you’re part of a pretty big one, now,” she says, waving a hand at the dozens of photos on the walls circling them.

“I guess so.”

“No need to guess. The evidence is right there. And I’m right here.”

Mika turns those huge eyes on her again. She’s done that multiple times now, even though Beth knows she rarely looks people in the eye. Eye contact is too much, most of the time. She describes it as too intense, too distracting, too intimate. Meeting those eyes – so like Beth’s own, but filled with such a different kind of light – Beth thinks she understands a glimmer of it. If every eye she met were as overwhelmingly expressive as Mika’s, Beth probably wouldn’t meet them all either. It keeps taking her by surprise, coming across their eloquence in an otherwise quiet face. Caught by that gaze, every emotion that lives in it touches Beth. Right now, it’s soft with adoration but shaded with a gradient of doubt. The width and depth of Mika’s eyes reveal a clear view of a vulnerable, aching, healing heart that spent eleven years starving for the love it needs and still hasn’t forgotten the famine.

It might be breaking Beth’s heart. No wonder Niki is always showering her with hugs and kind words and gentle hands on rounded shoulders. Maybe one of these days, Mika will have spent long enough finally getting to soak up all that affection that she won’t look at Beth like this when she says the simple truth.

“Hey. Here I am. Really.” Beth’s voice is a little choked up. She pulls Mika into a proper hug with both arms. Mika squeaks in surprise at being squeezed so emphatically, but returns it all the same. God, but she gives the best hugs of anyone Beth’s ever met. All contact and even, firm pressure and steadiness. “It’s so damn good to see you. I can’t believe you’re...” real, Beth thinks but doesn’t say. I can’t believe I didn’t imagine you. I can’t believe you’re just as kind as your words. I can’t believe how good it feels to be around you. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”

Mika doesn’t say anything. For a moment, one of her hands leaves Beth’s back to fiddle with something, then comes back to give her a little squeeze that Beth returns.

Beth’s phone buzzes a notification behind her on the little glass-top table next to the couch. The table’s wooden base is a round blob carved into the shape of a very fluffy and very ugly sheep with curly horns. Beth’s arms loosen from their embrace as she turns to look at it, bemused. No one but Mika really messages her except for her mom. But if it’s morning here, it’s about time for bed at home. She checks it, just to be sure she’s okay.

But it’s not from her mom.

Mika reaches out to gently grasp her forearm again as Beth shoots her a quizzical look and opens the message.

3mika: I'm glad you're here.

Beth's heart quails.

To think, that her darker days might have kept her from ever being in this moment. Beth might never have gotten to this point, hurt but healing and here. Here, she's seven time zones and an ocean away from the cycle of pain she grew up in, barely aware she needed to escape. She might well feel safer right here in this crossroads of time and place than she has at any other in her entire life. It's a realization that's as humbling as it is nourishing.

Already, the distance this journey has taken her has given her so much perspective. She wasn’t sure, before, whether the work she’s been considering was just a response to what she’s been through – or just a way for the cycle to keep her within its spiral. But she’s seen what Mika can do, what Beth could do one day, if she keeps on.

It won’t be easy. She’ll go back, and deep-seated memories will try to drag her back into small dark places. But being here, even for only a few hours, has already changed her. She can change, and she can grow, and she is already tapping into new strengths that her past has yet to reckon with. She is here, right now, in spite of all of it. And today is not a dark day.

“Me too, Mika. I’m glad to be here, too.” Beth’s tongue stumbles over the name, because she’s never said it out loud before, only read it on a screen.

Surprise sends Mika’s eyebrows up and her eyes wide again, like she’s never heard it before, either. Maybe she hasn’t. She tilts her head again like a question, touching her ear and looking at Beth.

Beth grins. “Mika.” A smile blooms on that curious face, lighting it up. She’s the one who pulls Beth into a hug this time, and it’s both fierce and soft. When she lets go, she leans into Beth’s side again and they stay like that, arms over shoulders and comfortably curled up together, soaking in the warmth of each other’s presence like leaves drink in light. The simple sweetness and companionship of it soothes Beth’s heart, seeking its way into the aching crevices. It’s an odd feeling, both seeping inward and flowing outward, trickling all the way through her until it warms her cold toes in a way that feels both new and strangely familiar.

A long, sleepy yawn announces that Niki’s awake now, too. Soon, she comes out of her room stretching her arms over her head. Mika reaches a hand out toward her to wave in greeting, though she leaves the other arm draped over Beth’s shoulders. Niki smiles at them. That kind smile, too, adds to the warmth washing through Beth. Her feet practically itch with it, and with a growing sensation of déja vu. She fidgets her toes against the floor as Niki walks over to brush Mika’s outstretched hand like a touchstone.

“How'd you sleep? Isn’t that couch the comfiest?” she says to Beth.

“Well, I’ve got a crick in my neck, but I still slept better than I have in years.”

Niki turns her sunny smile on Beth. “Good to hear it. Weird, though, I nap there all the time and my neck’s always fine. Huh. Anyway, I think I might make waffles. You two want some breakfast?”

Mika nods, but doesn’t let go of Beth yet. Beth is lost in thought, trying to remember what that light, floating feeling in her feet reminds her of.

“Sweet.” Niki ambles toward the kitchen and bends down with pursed lips to peer at the fern perched on the counter. “Hmm. You still look a little pale. Let’s get you some more sun.” She brings the plant over to the living room and is fussing over settling it on the sheep table when it clicks for Beth. A physical memory washes over her, for once welcome. She lets it fill her, refreshing like a deep breath of cold morning air her lungs are suddenly hungry for. She flexes her calves and ankles, her legs remembering the joy and freedom of stride and strike. Her bones are finally recalling how they once carried her with ease, even while they're adjusting to the new weight of who she's become. Fully alive again for at least this moment, her soles are practically prickling with the desire to eat up ground.

“How about you, Beth? Do you like waffles?” Niki asks, fluffing the fern’s crinkly green leaves. Mika squeezes her shoulder.

Beth grins and plants steady feet on the blue rug in front of the couch. “Save a few for me? I think I might actually go for a run first.”

[mentalillnessmouse]

(p1) Hi, I'm writing because I feel there is no hope for me. I'm 30, I live at home where I get verbally mistreated (it was physical when I was younger.) I'm morbidly obese, agoraphobic, I literally didn't leave the house for a 2 year period and still rarely do. I have 0 friends and never had any except a few online ones who ditched me years ago. I was bullied constantly. I have self-harm marks all over my arms. I've NEVER had a job, or finished high school. I still almost never leave the house.

(p2) I’ve asked for help to learn to drive, but they tell me I can’t. I guess because they call me autistic and tell me I am not very smart and make jokes about me having ADHD. I took those comments seriously and they told me I was “looking for problems.” WHAT? I made the mistake of speaking with a few psychiatrists about it who shut me down because, in their words, I didn’t “look” like I had those issues. And that my parents had hard jobs so it made sense they would lash out at me. 

(p3) I deal with other issues too like menorrhagia. A doctor had me do an ultrasound (this was like my 3rd one since ‘06) and sent me to a specialist because they saw something. The specialist said she didn’t think anything was there and wasn’t going to actually examine me. I gave up. I’m afraid to speak up for myself, I genuinely don’t understand how to live, make friends, talk to people. I feel like I just have TOO MANY issues. And at my age I don’t see why anyone would bother with me anymore.

(p4) I have an appt with a psych at the same place as the others because I have my city’s free insurance and nowhere else to go. I don’t know if I can do it again after this? I just wanted somewhere to reach out at least one more time :( I’ve reached out to others (like extended family) who will talk to me for a bit then ignore? I can’t help but to feel damaged or like I’m doing something wrong I can’t figure out. I feel like a weak loser and I didn’t try good enough.I’m sorry this is so long

Hello Anon, 

I’m mod Bee and I’ll do my best to help you out, but I received help myself from the other mods to write you back. So this is a communal effort!

Thank you for reaching out, and I’m sorry you’re going though such a difficult and distressing situation. You sound strong and tenacious, and I’m proud of you for the way you keep trying to improve your life. 

We have some suggestions that we hope can be of help. They’ll concerne:

finding online communities/groups to hang out with

finding a professional that suits your needs 

looking for courses you can join 

thinking about possible job options 

Just an head up: this is going to be long, and it will contain tons of links. I’ll highlight one - that I think it’s most useful - for each section, but I suggest you to go through them all. 

1. finding online communities/groups to hang out with

Having friends is important for our mental health, but it can get difficult to make new ones, especially when we’ve been burned before.  

Online communities, forums, and groups, can be good places to start looking for friends again. You can approach them with as much caution as you need, and find those people you relate with the most.

If you like games, and rpgs in particular, there are online options that allow you to connect with other others all over the world. Activities like Dungeon&Dragons are based around players’ interactions, so you’d get to know people without putting the stress on forging new friendships. The article 10 Best Online Chat Rooms & Games suggests other equally fitting games. 

Forums and groups where you can share your experience and fears are another important tool you can use. I’ve looked into active ones and found Panic Disorder and Agoraphobia Forum, r/Agoraphobia/ (on reddit), bus (a self-harm support forum), Mental health support group and discussion community, Online Support Groups by Turn2Me, PsychForums (Psychology and Mental Health Forums), and the ReachOut app.

Trying with pen pals - a one on one exchange - could also be a good idea: InterPals and PenPalWorld are only two of the many websites dedicated to this purpose. Here’s some tips on how it works.

Finally, there are apps with the specific purpose of finding new friends, like Bumble BFF. Try to see if you there’s one of your liking in this list.

2. finding a professional that suits your needs

We usually recommend what it’s colloquially called “psychiatrist/therapist shopping”, the act of choosing a professional after inquiring what we need to know of their line of work, based on our own wishes, and asking this to more than one.

It’s difficult when insurance covers just a little portion of professionals, but not impossible. 

Can’t afford therapy? No insurance? Need low cost options? Here is a great list of ways to get help when money or insurance is an issue.

Therapy For Every Budget: How To Access It

9 Ways to Get Free or Cheap Therapy When You Don’t Have Health Insurance

Dial 211 for Essential Community Services: if you call 211, you can ask about free therapy options in your area, or how to work with you insurance to afford other professionals.

If none of these options work out, and you have to stick with the professional your insurance provides, there are measures you can take that might help making the sessions successful. Check out 21 Tips for getting the most out of each therapy session and How to Talk to Your Doctors When They Don’t Listen. 

If your new psychiatrist tries to dismiss you without hearing everything that you have to say, insist that they write on your record exactly what they did and why, and that you absolutely want a copy of it before you exit their room. It’s your right to have both your requests accomplished. I know it’s not easy to have them respected: you’ll probably have to stand your ground and that can be difficult, but I think it’s important for you and fundamental for what you can get out of this session. This is a post with links to various module you can complete to help you assert yourself, which I suggest you to start before going to your appointment, if you can. It can be useful to face your family, too.

Does your insurance cover a different specialist for the gynecological problem your doctor wanted you to check out? Is there any free or low-cost clinic near you, like Planned Parenthood or Free Clinic? You can inquire about their services through email.

3. looking for courses you can join

Online courses can be helpful for a number of things, like keeping busy, learning new stuff, feeling accomplished, and possibly getting some qualifications. 

There are some free options that end with a proper certificate, but not all are accredited, meaning that they’re not automatically accepted by employers (they can choose to consider them valid or not). Still, there are no downsides in joining such a course, seeing that it doesn’t cost anything but your time.

Not accredited certificates/no certificates:

Alison’s Diploma Courses and Certificate Courses 

FutureLearn doesn’t grant you certificates with their free courses, but it still provides learning access

edX’s Courses

Udemi, not free but it offers up to 90% discounts generally once a month

Learn how to code, a masterpost that lists different courses to learn coding

Free Online Language Courses, a masterpost that lists different courses to learn languages  

24 Invaluable Skills To Learn For Free

Accredited certificates

coursera offers some free courses, and/or the possibility to apply for financial aid

Online Degree require no tuition, no applications, and no interviews, and has worked so participating Universities around the country will consider the courses for credit, potentially finishing up to an entire freshman year of college

edX’s Professional Certificate Programs are not free, but edX offers up to a 90% discount to those who prove they cannot pay a full price.

University Of The People is tuition-free, which means there is no charge for teaching or instruction, only initial fees (around 160$) for each course. You can also apply for scholarships.

on StudyPortal - Scholarships, you can find a huge number of scholarships available in your country, and here you can find the easiest scholarships to apply to. There are also scholarships for online courses.

There’s also the possibility of completing high school through virtual courses, and if they’re organized by your State’s public school system, they should be free. You can find more info on this here. 

4. thinking about possible job options

Working towards finding a job is important for our own self-worth and feeling like a valuable member of society, and of course it can also help with looking for better therapy. 

It can be tricky when mental and physical illnesses are at play, though. That’s why I’d like to give you some online options here, too, that don’t ask for any particular prerequisite, and would give you enough free time to focus to get better. Jobs like data entry or app testing are doable from home, and may not pay much, but they’d allow you to start building some savings. 

5 Online Jobs That Require Little or No Experience

No Experience? Start One of These Online Jobs

Best Data Entry Jobs From Home

10 (Legit) Data Entry Jobs from Home

Work At Home Data Entry on Indeed.com

FlexJobs

Glassdoor

Whatever you choose, creating a strong resume is always a good step. I’m giving you some resources on how to do that:

How to Create a Professional Resume

How To Make A Resume 101

Help Everyone Find A Job In Their Field

And between checking out all these options we gave you, please try to do some of this Workout For Daily Life, because focusing on a screen for too long can cause so many aches!

You’re not a loser, you’re strong and you keep fighting for yourself, which is admirable. I hope these resources can be of help, and please do send another ask if you need anything else.

Take care,

mod Bee

[colitisandme]

I didn’t understand this concept until after I experienced the burn out. I thought If I conquered my body then I could forget about my mind. I thought I could reprimand it and send it to the naughty step like an unco-operative child, until it fell into line. I thought once I had my body under control by throwing medicines and drugs down my throat, then the brain would obediently follow. It did not, because I was not ‘fixing’ either one. Just covering up a gaping wound with a plaster, is not going to heal anything.

I had Glandular Fever as a teen. It happened whilst I was performing in a play. I was very, very ill. I looked like a ghost during that play and it clung on to me for years. It destroyed my young adult hood. I always thought that it was the play that caused the chaos, unhappiness and upheaval that followed, but now, since trying to become friends with my mind, I realise my poor addled-brain was pretty battered and bruised before I got to this step. Because before my health turned completely on it’s head, I was pretty sad. I was very badly bullied because I didn’t fit in. My imagination, my brain, my desire to learn about everything, my creativity and my sideways thinking did not make friends or influence people. It was not met with hugs, puppies, pockets full of dreams, hi-fives and cake, My unique ‘me-ness’ was met with cruel words, crueler deeds, and there was a select group who would either avoid me like I had the proverbial plague, or they would turn into a lord of the flies esque tribe, deliberately seeking me out for torment and misery. All this ‘anti me ness’ started in Primary School where I thought my weirdness and happy, whimsical, care free, sunny attitude would be celebrated. It was not. It wasn’t even tolerated. School was not a safe place for me. It was not fun.

I got to Secondary school not knowing who the hell I was, let alone who I should be, with expectations from the school that I was going to be the best thing since chocolate cake was invented. They would watch me greedily like a child with their face pressed up against a sweet shop window. I think it’s safe to say I disappointed them. Their ‘hot ticket’ gave them nothing but grief. The bullying of course continued, then after a few years of desperately feeling like I was running on a treadmill but going nowhere, I got glandular fever, which pleased the school immensely. They were overjoyed I had an invisible illness that couldn’t be diagnosed for a year. They were very understanding when I used to shake so hard I used to drop everything and my writing used to look like it had been produced by a vibrating jelly pen. At no point did they make mean comments, and of course they were incredibly helpful when I told them I was being taunted by other children who would seek me out for cruel and unusual punishment, and certainly didn’t put their fingers in their ears going ‘la la la la la la la I’m not listening, I’m not listening’ when I tried to point out that I couldn’t complete written exams because I couldn’t write. Truly they were a joy to deal with. But I have to be honest and say I didn’t help myself. I didn’t want to go to school and felt ill so I stayed home, so I didn’t build up skills to interact with my peers successfully, and so I would become more ill, or use my illness as a way to stay off school so I didn’t have to go in and face the arsehats who made my life hell, which made the bullying worse, and round and round the cycle went. The more infections I got, the more antibiotics I would shovel in, the worse my immune system got, the lower I felt, the more isolated I got, the more I would get ill and not want to go to school. I wonder now if I took care of my internal tumble dryer of emotions, then maybe I wouldn’t have become quite so ill for quite so long and learnt the skills I needed to cease becoming a social piranha.

Because the Glandular fever made my immune system as weak as a newborn kitten, I was very susceptible to viruses, infections and general goo all through my teen, young adult and adult life. Because I had been shovelling in antibiotics like they were gummy bears, certain antibiotics didn’t have an effect, so illness would take longer to leave my body. And because I had been an idiot and avoided human interaction as a young teen, and the majority of interactions I had experienced during my childhood and mid-adult years, had been neither positive or successful (definitely made some rubbish decisions, met some horrible people, and I am no saint,) I felt low, anxious and not very comfortable in my own skin. I have been battling my body and brain for years. They have not been friends. At times it felt like I was in a Gladiatorial arena; One battering the second one with a pudral stick whilst the other one shouted insults, threw around colourful language, kicked up sand in their eyes and tried to bite the first. One followed the other like participants in a horrible conga dance, repetitive and maddening. Usually at my most poorly I have been depressed. And usually when I was depressed or stressed, I used to get really run down. Both my body and mind were screaming at me to listen and to change my behaviours, my thought process and my lifestyle, but they might as well have been speaking German. I couldn’t understand them.

So moving forward to last years burnout where I emotionally and physically imploded. My brain and body had decided unanimously that they were on strike. After screaming at me until they were both hoarse, begging me to change, displaying huge temper tantrums, throwing situations my way to facilitate that change (which I now realised I ignored, sat on and refused to confront), they both decided enough was enough, organised an intervention, powered down, picked up their plaquards and started a deafening chant of ‘we shall not be moved.” They both catorgorically refused to work again until I took my rose tinted glasses off and took a very hard look at myself warts and all. I had always fixed bits of my life whenever feelings bubbled up to the surface, and I I must admit I have had a few “Okay, enough is enough. Things really must change now” conversations with myself. I have undertaken hypnotherapy, I have changed jobs, I have doubled my efforts with positive mindset, I tried to be everything to everyone, I lived by making others happy and failed to make myself happy in the process. My life was exhausting. I couldn’t fix myself so I tried my utmost to help others and when I couldn’t help change lives, I felt out of control. I couldn’t get a grip. It felt like I was wading through jam in high heels. So when I couldn’t reprise any of my ‘go to fallbacks’ when my physical and mental health imploded, it was completely alien. I didn’t know how I was going to function. It was scary. It was overwhelming. I had to step back, strip back my life and pretty much build my life up from the ground up. I realise now that this was my body and mind’s way of saving my life. They knew I was burning through both my body and mind at a staggering rate of knotts and if my mind suddenly went poof, I would have no reserves left to protect my body. They both ‘went to lunch’ at the same time, leaving me no choice but to take my ear muffs off, completely surrender and pay sodding attention. And finally I did.

When I became really ill and IBD took hold of my body, although completely terrified I knew I had to start listening to my body and mind. I meditated, I practiced mindfulness, I looked into Reiki. I started a massage course as it’s something I have always wanted to do. I rested, I surrendered and listened to what my body was telling me. When the system failed me, I spoke to my family, who did incredible research on IBD and leaky gut and sent me wonderful books such as ‘Frazzled’ by Ruby Wax, ‘mindfulness and mental health’ and a book on colitis by Greg Williams. My Mum tore through books and beavered through articles online on IBD and Wellness, sent me a happiness journal to complete, found ‘gut therapy’ soundtracks, ‘hypnotherapy for the gut’ which I would listen to whilst trying to move myself away from the horrendous pain I was experiencing. She also posted me boxes of vitamins and suppliments to support my poorly body. I made appointments with a Homeopath who nourished my soul and built up my body with natural remedies. She helped me see that my body and my mind were screaming out for help and not to ignore it. She helped me untangle the webs of my past in order to focus on the present, and weaken the hold of the traumatic experiences I had experienced throughout different parts of my life, in order to soothe, cuddle nourish and replenish my inner child. She instructed me to be mindful in the joyous moments that I was completely bypassing. She has opened my eyes to new possibilities and happiness just by being me. I am not going to lie. It is brutal, exhausting and incredibly painful going through this journey. Whoever said healing is easy, is a bloody liar.

I didn’t want to take conventional medicines, I wanted to try and make myself happier and as healthy as I could from my roots up. I feared my body would react pretty violently if I gobbled up conventional drugs and although I certainly don’t dispute their uses or the fact they help lots of people struggling with IBD I am wary of them. I didn’t want to go down that route again. I wanted to nourish my soul and my mind naturally. I had to. I had no choice.

After a huge amount of mistakes, stubbornness, frustration and crazy brain behaviours. I finally gave in. It clicked. I completely understand the link between mind and body. One cannot flourish without the other being healthy, and wellness requires both a healthy body and mind to exist harmoniously. I still battle my IBD on a daily basis, and the holistic methods I have chosen, may not suit everyone, and that’s okay. Everyone has their own journey to treat this disease and treat Mental Health illness, and whatever path they choose, will be best for them. I guess my journey means I may not have won the battle with my body quite yet, IBD is really tricky to navigate, and although my mind still performs like a flailing armed drunk at times- highly uncooperative and imbalanced, I know that I am so much further ahead than I was. And so with a little bit of patience, self kindness, self support and self knowledge I hope to encourage my body and mind to set down the whomping stick and just get a long - Well most of the time anyway.

[scramblednoodle]

Day 1

So here we are.  Last we talked, I was contemplating the concept of death, and the way I approached it.  That was...2019?  My friend with ALS died.  Bean died.  And then J and I had the most amazing trip of our lives, a distraction we sorely needed, a trip across the country over 30 days and 8500 miles, camper trailer in tow.  Amazing time, amazing trip.  Did we do Burning Man?  I think we did Burning Man.  Then CFT, then the holidays, then 2020 came around, and we did Further Confusion, with Vardaman gigs interspersed between.

And then Covid19 happened.

I don’t want to talk about all of the things that have happened since then.  I’ll give a summary, though.  We found VR and found a whole new dimension of socializing.  We’ve made a TON of friends, more than we have ever made at any con, and maybe more than we’ve made at many of those cons combined, and we’ve gotten closer to some of our existing friends.  I’ve lost a ton of weight.  We got a kitten.  We’ve stayed home, we don’t eat out, save for the occasional Taco Bell/Papa Murphy’s take-out.  A lot of stuff has been done at home and with the house.  We got a 3d printer, a kegerator, and a freeze dryer.  Life has slowed down, but time has sped forward, and the two are oddly disjunct.

But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.

See, sitting at home, doing things, and not being distracted by going out all the time has caused a certain amount of reflection.  A LOT of reflection.  I’ve had to face some things, and as a result, I’ve realized some things.  Last year I started having a gender identity crisis.  This mulled around in my head, until I slowed down, until life calmed down and I was forced to delve deep and explore this.  Early this year, shortly after FC, I admitted that I was trans, to myself, and to those that know me.  I came out on Twitter, to massive amounts of support.  I mean, folks who knew me well probably weren’t all that surprised, except that it took me so long.  To others, maybe it broadsided them, but I have thought of myself as “she” for so long, and been called “She” or “Lady” or “Her” or “Mistress” or whatever for so long, maybe it got taken for granted.

I was undecided on transitioning, but always kept the option open.  Since I’d been losing weight, I set a goal:  if I could hit 220, I would “consider” transitioning.

Let’s go back to the cross-country trip.  I stopped shaving during that trip.  I grew a great, big, Pacific NorthWest beard.  MANLY beard.  Bushy in all the right ways.  I got complimented on my beard.

I started to hate my beard.

Denial-beard, it’s called, amongst some transgender folks.  For my birthday this year I bought the nicest electric razor I have ever in my life owned, and was more expensive than my last 4 electric razors combined.  For my birthday, I shaved my denial beard.  It was the first time I had entirely removed my facial hair in years, and certainly the first time without it AND embracing my transgender self.

I loved what I saw in the mirror.  I loved her so much that I decided that my goal of hitting a weight and then transitioning was purely a projection of my continued belief that in order to physically become the woman I am inside, that I had to be svelte.  Thinner.  Sleeker.  Beautiful.

What a bunch of rubbish.

I saw myself as a woman in the mirror for the first time in my life, and I felt nothing but giddy joy.  I’m starting to tear up at the memory of it.  Do you have any fucking idea how HARD it is to look at yourself in a mirror for FORTY THREE YEARS and hate yourself?  I bet more than one of you do.

Between 2007 and 2009 I went from 308lbs to 175lbs.  I looked GOOD.  I had hot men wanting to touch me, to fuck me.  It was nice to be liked.

I hated who I saw in the mirror.  And I eventually hated what being fit and thin and desired turned me into.  A Fitness TYRANT.  My way or no way.  I started to look down on those who could not do what I did.  It was gross.

Harley died, work went to shit, and over the next 10 years or so, I put most of the weight back on.

Still hated who I saw in the mirror.

And then, thanks to Covid, I saw a woman in the mirror, and for the first time, I understood.

Fuck the weight goal.  I talked to my therapist.  I needed a head check.  Is this me?  Am I doing the right thing?  Is this a phase?  A phase, LOL.

I’ve presented as a woman online since 1997.  It started as an excuse to have cyber with straight guys; at least. that’s what I told myself.  It felt comfortable from day 1.  Over the years, my male characters either fell to the wayside, or became women themselves.  So easy, transitioning in a side reality.  Very few people would judge, and those who did would easily be blocked or ignored.  I felt comfortable.

When I started to date Kiteless, many years ago, his circles had no problems with she/her pronoun with relation to me.  After all, I was not the only dragoness with a misidentified physical body.  It was...nice.  For the first time, I felt like I could be accepted.  I WAS accepted, as who I felt I was.  That persisted, and continues to persist.  When I started dating J, he would always refer to me as “Lady”.  He never had a problem with my gender, though it took him a while to realize that it was not just a kink for me, that I was not doing it to tease him, but that I was doing it because it was how I felt comfortable.  I think he understands it now.

Speaking of understanding, it was about the time I decided to go through with HRT that the real wall started to erect itself.  Something that grew and grew, and grew strong.

My Dad.

Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t anything he did or said.  My dad is Puerto Rican, and he’s Military.  He lives and breathes the US Army, even though he’s long retired.  I don’t think he understands how to function back in the world.  I don’t think he can handle the entropy.  Or at least, it’s not an entropy he understands.  But this makes him subject to, let’s just say, a rather blunt, lopsided, and sometimes outdated view of the world.

How in the hell would he accept that his son was going to become his daughter?

So I started to build this wall in my head.  Out of bricks that I made myself.  Bricks based on assumption and self-projection.  I have ever been my own worst enemy, and this was no exception.

There is a memory, a very NOT FOND memory I have.  Before I left home, before I escaped from under HIS roof (and he never let us forget that), my parents found out I was gay.  At one point, my dad and I got into an argument, and he said “They need to take you out like that kid in Colorado and beat you.”  He was referring to Matthew Shepard, a gay college kid who was beaten severely in Laramie, WY, and later died in Ft Collins, CO.

I’ve never forgiven my dad for that comment.  I don’t know if I ever can.  The comment came from a place of ignorance and anger, but it came from him, it came from within, and it was directed at his child.  I will never forget that moment, and that moment will forever color the way I interact with him.

SO!  You can understand, perhaps, why I was terrified of telling him.  Despite our rocky relationship over the years, I do love my dad, and he’s the person in the world that, for a long time, I most wanted approval from.  In a way, I still do, and I will probably always want his approval.  Now, my mom accepted who I was without issue.  She’s always been supportive, though there was a time when I think she was hurt that I would never give her grandkids. :P  She follows me Twitter, so it was pretty clear to her what was happening with me, though she somehow missed the big news, that I was going to transition.

It was hard to tell her, but as I expected, she was supportive.  Very supportive.  I’m blushing just thinking about it, the feeling of my mom calling me her girl.  I never would have thought I’d get to this point.

When I first broached transition with my therapist, after much handwringing and self-questioning, the expectation was that I was going to start a long process of approval.  I would need to go through my Primary Care physician, then see an endocrinologist, then get a letter of recommendation from my therapist, then be evaluated for medications.  My doctor was a small-town, country doctor who didn’t listen, and whose answer to everything was Flonase.  He was OBSESSED with allergies and nasal steroids.  I was really dubious he’d be on-board with helping me transition.  So, of course I changed PCPs.  J and I were already super dissatisfied with him, so it was a no-brainer.  Ended up at OHSU, with a primary care doc who specialized in gender confirming action and therapies.  We talked.  I got a lab panel done.  And then suddenly she was prescribing me estrogen and testosterone blockers.

My expectation of 6 months was suddenly obliterated, and boy did the doubt start.  Am I doing the right thing?  Oh my god, I’m not ready for this.  I was supposed to have SIX MONTHS, and it took ONE AND A HALF.

Things moved fast after that.  A few more doctor appointments.  Some medication research.  Some frozen sperm, just in case.

Yesterday was...a roller coaster.  Yesterday, the meds showed up in the mail.  Yesterday, I got the notification that my sperm was accepted into the sperm bank and was healthy and viable.  Yesterday, I called my mom, and we talked for almost 2 hours.  It was a lovely conversation.  And I asked her to help me tell my dad.

A very short while later, I received a message from my dad.  It was cryptic, but Dad is ESL, so he doesn’t really enunciate the way most folks do.  Blunt, coarse, direct, and with odd modifier choices.  Nonetheless he made one thing clear.

He loved me no matter what.

I cried for 30 minutes straight.  My paper towels were a sopping mess of tears and snot.  I was a mess.  

I also felt more free than I’ve been in a long, long time.  That wall I built got torn down, and good riddance.  *I* built that wall, out of my own fear and projected doubts.  It was a real wall.  Those fears were real feelings.  Unfounded, but REAL.  And they’ve finally crumbled.  Finally.

I took my first HRT pills this morning.  As I understand it, I’ll be on them for at least 3 years, assuming I stick with it.  I can expect a second puberty before any physical changes.  In 6 months or something, physical changes will begin to occur, but right now I’m just...Well, my head is spinning.  I still have doubts, but since yesterday, they’re quieter.  They’re less pronounced.  They’re mostly based around trying not to get shanked by a Good ‘Ol Boy.  The usual.

And now we come to today.

Today is a special day.  Today is my Day 1.  Today begins the rest of my life.

I’m scared, I’m excited, I’m nervous, I’m giddy.  I am as confused a jumble as I ever was.  But I’m pretty sure of one thing:

This is right.

My intent to is journal things now and then.  Thoughts, worries, etc.  We’ll see how it goes. )

Peace, y’all.

[i-am-the-floor-goblin]

long one under the cut bois

So, Here’s the thing. I’ve had chronic pain for.... what? um. officially? a year and a half. Unofficially?... 5 years? Honestly? Probably since I was like 7 or someshit. When I was younger I used to struggle to sleep because of the pain in my knees. But no one really made a big deal about it so... I figured it was normal. And then my back started to really hurt... but I was also suicidal at the time so.. my doctor was very dismissive of anything but that. Even this crippling pain in my stomach that led me to drop out of school. So I figured it was normal.. And then for a couple of years I would try again sporadically and get generic “do more exercise and lose weight shit” to, and i shit you not, the girl with a fucking eating disorder. So, I didn’t go to the doctors again for a long, long time. probably about 4 years? Until my childhood friend was found dead in her dorm room. That triggered a depression and anxiety so profound it was the first time I ever agreed to go on antidepressants.  The first doctor I saw was an actual angel. He genuinely cared. I went back again I think a few months later? And she just threw meds at me. So many infact I still have some of them left a good 3 years later. So, naturally;  I didn’t go back. Flash forward to February 2019. My left knee was fucked. I could. Not. Walk. it hurt so badly all the time. Saw a paramedic at my surgery who legit gasped when he checked the mobility of my knee (this part of the story is important for later). It bent back so far he was legit just like “oh no”. So he gave me the good cush pain killers and a referral to a physio. My physio referral got lost. So I gave up. Until: August. I’m doing the dishes when a blinding pain shoots through my wrist. I could not move it, could not move my fingers without hot burning pain in my wrist. Could not even breathe. So, I went to the doctor because thats what you do when you’re in pain right? Dude didn’t even look at me. Asked me to put my hand flat on his desk. I couldn’t. So, he sent me to get blood tests for arthritis. While all this is going on mind, I was trying to ask my company to step down from a supervisor back to barista because I kept ‘hurting’ my shoulders while cashing up and the strain of carrying £800 in change every day back and forth from the safe to the office to cash up was killing my back and knees. Just keep that in mind. Blood tests came back.. Absolutely fine. The doctor who sees me cannot understand why that statement makes me cry. She was ready to send me on my merry way. So, with no explanation of what they are or what they’re for, she threw meds at me. I didn’t take them. Things get so bad and my pain is so extreme that I’m seriously starting to give up. Then, I remember the nice doctor from years ago. So I ask specifically to see him. God it was like a different dimension. He was like “oh that sounds like you’re subluxating your joints” and explained what the meds from the other lady were for and just really validated my feelings. Made me feel less crazy. Because sometimes you do feel crazy. I got re-referred to physio. After I casually wrote an incident report at work which is read by HR and my area manager, I amazingly went from being told there’s “just no way for me to step down” to demoted in about... a week? Physio goes really well. She was so lovely. I went every 2 to 3 weeks. I built up muscle really well. Learned that the way I hold myself will help keep my joints in place. It was a really validating experience. Both because she could recognize how fucked up my joints were and how gentle the exercises had to be to prevent me from just, breaking. And also because every time she’d tell me she could tell how hard I was working. That I really was trying and doing it.

Enter Covid.

so of course physio got canceled.

And the months go by. lockdown was fine. my hips subluxed during. so I had a few weeks of not really being very mobile, which was pretty scary since I live alone. But heyho. And then back to work. my body threw an almighty tantrum. I dislocated my big toe for one thing. But I didn’t work out that was what it was until after a “phone consultation” with the meanest physio ever. She basically told me I was delusional and to stop wasting her time. All because I told her “I think I may have subluxed my toe”. which probably would have gone over fine if it weren’t for the fact, I hadn’t had any kind of trauma to the area. I was in work, and one second I could stand and the next second? I could not put any weight on my right foot for fear of blinding pain. Sounds... uhhh familiar right? So I just... bought comfier work shoes and bandaged my foot as tight as I could.. and managed. I did end up calling the doctors again about 2 months later when the pain just. would. not. ease up. I still cant wear shoes that dont have really soft soles. So, I had more blood tests... that came back... FINE! BUT, Thats okay! Because the big appointment has finally arrived! The one my good doctor and my physio both told me would be the answer to all my prayers. Finally. I was going to a Rheumatologist! So my brother picked me up. Off we went to the hospital. I had to go in alone, because, you know.. covid. And I finally after a year of being on this waiting list, get called into the doctors office. At first it seems to be going okay. He’s taking notes, listening to my “story” (his words not mine). so then came the physical examination... where he made some bold claims. and then it was over. He sat me back down in his office and told me. “you dont have hypermobile joints, and theres nothing wrong with you”. Right? So, when I didn’t leave his office. He then backtracked and tried to throw “Chronic pain syndrome” at me. Bitch. Thats a fucking symptom not the cause. So, I still didn’t leave. So, this man deadass asks me what I think it is then. And so I was like “I dont know crazily thats why im here?????????????????” And he told me to go on GET THIS hypermobility forums online!!!!!!!!!!!!!! amd see what people on there recommend to help with pain and shit. He THEN asked me if I think I have fibromyalgia. Fam. Again. You are the doctor. I am a very sad 24 year old. And that was that. Bye. Peace out. Come back if you get any real symptoms. (No really he told me I was free to come back if I developed anything he could actually help with) So I walked out of his office. Back to the carpark where my brother was waiting. and then I cried. I cried so fucking hard man. it’s been 3 weeks and 3 days since that fucking day. I’ve stopped taking my meds. I dont eat. I haven’t had work this week so I haven’t left the house. Not once. I can’t even cry anymore. I’ve been depressed before and I’ve been suicidal before. But that was always grief fueled. Anxiety filled. This one hits different. I realized during lockdown I was depressed again. You know. The world is having a hard time atm. Throw in any extra struggles and its ripe for the old brain sads. But I am struggling to think of a time when I was ever this bad. Like. I am actually afraid of how unwell I am at the moment. And how unseriously my friends are taking it? And it hurts you know? Because a colleague of mine is having a hard time and my best friend is there for her... but not for me... and its just fucking with me even more because I for the first time in my god damn life. In the 13 years I’ve been depressed I reached out. I actually told the people who are supposed to care about me “Hey, im really not great atm” and they did exactly what I always knew they would. nothing. Thats not to say though, that my brother is like that. He is my ray of light. The only family I have. God. I would be so lost without him. But I just dont know what to do. I dont want to talk to some stranger over video call for “therapy” and I dont know if I’d be able to tell a doctor what’s wrong over the phone...and I am just so fucking lost. Covid is making this all so much harder. I just dont know what to do. I feel so lost. I needed to write this out though. Writing helps me clear my head.

[the-other-swan-arch]

Becoming a Father

@anotherlostswan

Wyatt sat in an uncomfortable chair in the NICU ( Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) wing of Boston Children’s Hospital, his knees bounced up and down while his hands rubbed high jean clad thighs. What the hell had he been thinking? Could he really do this? Self-doubt filled his mind, seconding guessing his decision. 

~~~

Ever since Emma had told him she was pregnant, Wyatt had been doing everything he could to make his life more stable...more reliable...make it so a social worker and the state would approve of him fostering Emma’s child while she was in jail. He had gotten a job, provided a plan for where the child would be while he worked, applied to online college’s so he could get a degree, and actually rented out a small apartment. It had taken him almost seven months to get everything ready and approved by the state, and start the foundation for a savings account. Wyatt would become the legal guardian of his niece or nephew when they were born until Emma was released, she would then become the child’s mother. 

That plan thought had gone down the drain a few weeks ago. Emma had called him as he was getting off work...her words stopping him in his tracks; she was putting the baby up for adoption...closed adoption. After all he had done, the plans he had made...he would have been able to give the kid some kind of life for the next three years...taken away in an instant. The blonde had tried to plead with her not to do this. That there was no guarantee the baby would be adopted, it could end up in the system just like they had, it could have a life just like they had and this time it wouldn’t have a sibling to protect it. But Emma wouldn’t listen. She had already filled out the paperwork, it was done.

He had never been so mad at his twin in his whole life. After that phone call they hadn’t talked. Not until the hospital, in the middle of the night, called telling him Emma was in labor. The young man had rushed to get there. Boy had he been surprised when Emma had twins, it was just supposed to be a little boy...but not, it was a beautiful baby boy and gorgeous little girl. But there were problems.The boy was healthy, perfectly fine. But the little girl? The color of her skin was tinted blue slightly, she could barely breath on her own and when she did breath she made a strained grunting sound. She was rushed from the room and down to NICU. Wyatt had asked what was wrong with her almost panicked, Emma laid her head back on the pillows eyes closed tightly as she tried to block it all out...she wasn’t their mother, she had already signed over rights to the state.

When the nurses in the room would only tell him that the baby girl had been taken down to NICU a growl had left the blonde’s lips, he glanced over at Emma. She opened her eyes, locking with his. She knew what he was thinking in one look, knew what was going through his mind. “Go...” She said in a weak whisper. That was all he needed, he left the room and started a jog down the hall trying to find where they had taken her.

~~~

The doctors had run blood tests, done x-rays of her chest to discover the little girl had what is known as RDS. They explained to Wyatt what it was, what caused it, and what they would need to do treat her. She was placed on an Endotracheal tube, was given pain medication and also received Surfactant replacement therapy. Wyatt stayed by her side the whole time, talking to her and gently rubbing her small chest or playing with her fingers. He was attached, more than he ever thought possible. This little girl became his world. He’d dropped out of college to stay with her as much as he could...he couldn’t give up his job, though he had thought about it, but he needed the money to keep the apartment, have insurance on his car, and pay for whatever this little girl was going to need. That’s right...Wyatt was going to keep her. Her case worker knew Wyatt, had been there through all of this since the beginning. She saw how Wyatt cared for this little one, how he had gotten his life together so he could originally become her legal guardian. So when Wyatt approached her about flat out adopting the little girl, the case worker had done all she could to help make that happen.

~~~

The memories of the last few months played in his mind and his determination kicked back in. He was Olivia’s father, he would be the best he could be for her and give her the world, he would be the parent he never had. The door to the nursery finally opened and Doctor Gillham stepped out with the little girl in her arms, a smile on her face. Wyatt stood up, rubbing his hands on his jeans one more time before putting the diaper bag he’d brought with him over his shoulder and picking up the infant baby carrier/car seat. “Hey,” His voice was shaky but hide most of his nerves.

“Hello, Wyatt.” Dr.Gillam said meeting him half way. “This little one is all ready to go home.”

He set the car seat down at his feet, taking Olivia into his arms, holding her close to his chest--protectively. “There’s my little monkey,” His voice much calmer and collected, he took one hand to stroke her cheek lovingly. “You ready to get out of here? I know I can’t wait to get you home...”

Dr.Gillham’s smile grew watching the two, “Oh she is definitely ready. She’s been fussy all morning, waiting on you.”

Wyatt looked up, “I tried to get here as soon as I could. But where I’m taking time off my boss kept me a little longer.” He explained.

“Wyatt, it’s okay.” She reassured him, “It gave me time to run a few last minute tests to make sure she’s all set to go. Which she is,” She told him. “I have a few prescriptions that you need to get filled. It’s the Bronchodilators and Diuretics, just follow the instructions on the pill bottles. You also bought the nebulizer we talked about?”

“Yes. I bought it the night you mentioned it. It’s already set up in my room ready to use.” Wyatt nodded, bouncing Olivia as she cooed. He took the prescriptions in one hand, still keeping a tight hold on the infant.

“And you set up an appointment with a pediatrician?” She just wanted to double check.

“Yeah, we are going in later this afternoon for her first appointment.”

“Then you are all set,” She placed a hand on his arm lightly, “You’ve got this. I have seen a lot of fathers in my time being here, but you? You are one of the most dedicated, attentive ones I have ever seen. That little girl is in wonderful hands. If you have any questions you are always welcome to call me. Have a great day Wyatt.” With that she turned and walked away.

Wyatt looked down at Olivia, “You hear that? We’ve got this. Everything is going to be okay. We might have our rough times but I promise you that we will get through it. I promise you that you’ll never be without me,” He leaned down to kiss her forehead, “I love you Olivia.” He moved down, placing the prescriptions on the floor next to the carrier before carefully placing her in it and strapping her in securely--he would never admit to anyone he had spent time practicing with a stuffed animal so he could do it smoothly with Olivia. He placed over her, tucking it around her. “There we go, all snug. It’s a little cold out there today.” Wyatt placed one more kiss on her forehead before pulling a pink little beanie from his pocket placing it on her head, making sure to keep her warm. Her immune system was already weak, he wouldn’t chance anything else happening. “Let’s go home.”

Three Years Later

Wyatt groaned as his alarm went off, he reached blindly for his phone with one hand while the other was wrapped around the little blonde curled up into his side. It was his day off, but they needed to get up early because Olivia had a doctors appointment around ten o’clock. Once the phone was in his hand, he opened his eyes turning it off. He let the phone fall to his side, turning to look down at his little girl--his little monkey--a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She was tucked into his side, one arm over his chest and a leg curled over his stomach while her head rested on near his heart. She had her favorite stuffed animal pinned between them.

Wyatt leaned down, pressing kisses to her temple and forehead, “Liv...baby...it’s time to wake up.”

[fear-god-shun-evil]

Miracle Testimony: God Treated Her Infertility and Gave Her a Healthy Baby

By Xiaodu

A spacious, bright living room with a crib, with a half-year-old baby lying happily inside, his small mouth sucking on his little fingers … Xiaohui, on the sofa, watched this scene with a smile on her face that had never before graced it.

That the once infertile Xiaohui could give birth to a healthy baby was not the result of scientific or medical treatment. This is a life given to her by God. As she looked back on the bitterness of more than two years of seeking medical treatment, she was filled with complex emotions …

In her early 20’s, Xiaohui married her boyfriend of two years, and after their wedding, she enjoyed her husband’s love and affection, but she also looked forward to giving birth to a beautiful baby and fulfilling her dream of starting a family. But Xiaohui was never able to get pregnant, and when she went to the hospital to look into why, the doctor told her, “The chance of curing congenital ovarian dysplasia is very small.” This was a deeply painful blow for Xiaohui, who desperately wanted a child. She said to herself under her breath, “How could this happen? And how could anyone respect a woman who can’t have children? If I can’t have a baby, will my husband still want me in the future? And my mother-in-law is waiting to meet her grandchild.” Xiaohui was trapped in negativity and misery as tears streamed down her cheeks …

“Doctor, medicine is very advanced today, and even though I know the chance of curing my condition and getting pregnant is low, I’d like to do my best to cure it. Doctor, please help me!” Xiaohui begged, as if she was pinning all her hopes of having a child entirely on the doctor. The doctor began giving Xiaohui the most advanced infrared warming disinfection treatment available, and prescribed medicine, but after half a year of treatment and spending more than 30,000 yuan, Xiaohui’s diagnosis hadn’t changed. There was no improvement. Xiaohui felt especially helpless. Was there really no cure for her condition? Xiaohui wanted to try her treatment at a hospital with all the necessary equipment and doctors with the country’s most advanced skills. She thought they would definitely have the answers there. So, she gathered up her information and went to a famous national hospital to seek treatment.

But, after the doctor quickly looked through the materials she brought and asked her some simple questions about her condition and treatment history, he said, “You’ve always had weak menstruation, you have small ovaries only a few millimeters long, and low estrogen. Your medical history and exam results are in line with the diagnosis of congenital ovarian dysplasia, so I won’t give you another examination. Instead, we’ll use artificial progesterone to artificially establish menstruation.” But, after two months of this treatment, there was no improvement in Xiaohui’s condition, and the side effects of the medicine left Xiaohui without an appetite. She was in such pain and misery she couldn’t continue taking the medicine. But, Xiaohui didn’t want to give up. She thought of all the hospitals and doctors that had successfully treated many cases of infertility she had read about online, or seen on TV and in advertisements, and she dreamed of being the next successful example. With her last hope driving her, she went to two well-known big hospitals. After her diagnosis, a famous doctor told her, “Your estrogen levels are very low, so you’ll have to use hormone replacement therapy for your entire life. You can’t ever stop the treatment, or you’ll age prematurely.” There was no question that these words were like salt rubbed in Xiaohui’s wounds. She never could have imagined that her condition would require lifetime hormone replacement therapy. Frustrated, Xiaohui had no choice but to listen to the doctor and undergo treatment for another half a year, but when she was reexamined, her ovaries were still undersized and contained no mature eggs. Xiaohui was utterly hopeless …

Xiaohui stared in shock at the results of her final examination. In the past two years, she had spent all of the 100,000 yuan she saved from work on her treatment. She also clearly remembered her experiences of suffering for her treatment: She took every test, medicine, and shot according to the doctors’ instructions, and all of it, she didn’t dare neglect a single detail; she went to every examination appointment, in the cold of winter or the heat of summer; she couldn’t recall how far she had traveled or how much blood had been drawn from her, or how many injections she had been given or medicine she had taken. But in the end, there wasn’t even the slightest improvement in her condition. Instead, she was physically and mentally fatigued, in pain, and thanks to the side effects of her long-term use of hormones, her weight increased from her original 45 kg to 60 kg. She was several sizes larger. When she looked at her moon-shaped face and bloated figure in the mirror, she felt a disappointment she had never experienced before. She had always felt that medicine and science were authoritative, but they weren’t as good as she imagined. Immediately she felt as though she had nothing to rely on, and she fell into sorrow and despair.

That night, Xiaohui rolled to and fro in her bed, unable to sleep. As she looked at the blackness of night outside the window, she felt helpless, and silent tears streamed from the corners of her eyes onto the pillow …

Xiaohui’s grandmother, who had always shown great care for her, came to her house and saw how tormented and hopeless Xiaohui’s infertility had made her. She gently advised Xiaohui, “Xiaohui, I know how much you’ve suffered and what you’ve gone through to treat your infertility the last few years. I’ve watched you go through all of it, and I’ve been very worried about you.” Xiaohui was silent as she held back her tears. Her grandmother continued, “The truth is, we don’t have any choice in the matter of whether we get pregnant. We can’t control it, neither can doctors or science. Only God can. You should believe in God. God’s word can resolve all the problems and difficulties we encounter in life.” Xiaohui’s grandmother’s words comforted her, and she felt her heart calm.

Her grandmother continued, “Xiaohui, let’s read two passages of God’s words and see what they say about having children.” Xiaohui took the book of God’s words and read: “People’s plans and fantasies are perfect; do they not know that the number of children they have, their children’s appearance, abilities, and so forth, are not for them to decide…? People go to any length for the sake of their offspring, but in the end, how many children one has, and what one’s children are like, do not answer to their plans and desires. Some people are penniless but beget many children; some people are wealthy yet have no child. Some want a daughter but are denied that wish; some want a son but fail to produce a male child.” “What is the cause of this pain? Is it because of God’s sovereignty, or because a person was born unlucky? Obviously neither is true. At bottom, it is because of the paths people take, the ways people choose to live their lives.” Her grandmother fellowshiped, “You can see how clearly God’s words explain the matter. Whether we have children, whether our children are boys or girls, what our children look like, and what they do in the future aren’t up to us, nor are they up to doctors. Everyone has their own fate, which is orchestrated and arranged by God. Take your own efforts to have a child as quickly as possible. You did everything you could, so why was this the result? It shows that God hasn’t ordained that you have a child at this time, but it doesn’t show that God has preordained you will never have a child, because we don’t know what God has preordained.”

After hearing her grandmother’s fellowship, Xiaohui recalled her experience of treating her condition, how she thought of every possible method and went to all the big hospitals, but in the end she still couldn’t get pregnant. Xiaohui acknowledged God’s words and her grandmother’s fellowship.

“Xiaohui, don’t bring yourself any more trouble to treat your condition. If God has ordained that you’ll have a child, then sooner or later you’ll be pregnant. If not, nothing you can do will make it happen. Just face it honestly and obey God’s sovereignty and predestination! Then, you won’t have any worries or torment, and you’ll be able to live happily and joyously.”

At that moment, Xiaohui began to understand that if or when she ever had a child was entirely orchestrated and determined by God, and was not something she could plan or arrange, nor was it something she could change through effort and medical treatment. After Xiaohui said a prayer of obedience to God with her grandmother’s help, she felt more relaxed and at ease than she ever had before. She no longer cared what others thought of her, and no longer cared how her parents-in-law and husband would treat her. Afterward, she no longer entrusted her ability to have a child to medicine, but left it in God’s hands for Him to orchestrate and arrange. In her free time, she went to her parents’ home to read God’s word and sing hymns of praise to God with her grandmother, and deep in her heart she felt the peace and joy of God.

One day, Xiaohui suddenly felt nausea. She thought it was caused by excess heat from eating the wrong food, so she took out two TCM prescriptions, but after taking them, her nausea only got worse. Only then did Xiaohui think: Am I pregnant? But then she thought to herself, “How could that be possible? I tried infertility treatments for two years with no success, how could I be pregnant?” But, purely out of curiosity, she did a pregnancy test. The result was positive. She was so excited she nearly leapt into the air. This was amazing! When she was trying to get pregnant, she tried for three years without success. After completely giving up on her plan to get pregnant and have a child and entrusting everything to God’s sovereignty and arrangements, she actually became pregnant. This was nothing short of a miracle! She remembered a story from the Bible her grandmother had told her: When Abraham was 100, and his wife Sarah was already 90, God granted them a son called Isaac. At an age when it appeared biologically impossible to us that she could have a child, a year later, Sarah truly did give birth to Abraham’s son Isaac. Xiaohui realized her grandmother was using this story to inspire her to understand God’s authority. The fact that she was pregnant today was a manifestation of God’s authority and power. Xiaohui felt uncontrollable joy in her heart. She poured out her thanks and praise to God, and was more certain than ever that all human affairs are part of God’s sovereignty and arrangements.

Xiaohui was immersed in the joy of pregnancy, but new troubles came one after another. The doctor told Xiaohui that she was prone to miscarriage, and that she needed to take oral progesterone to prevent it. She also had to get regular checkups to observe whether the fetus was developing normally, and if it wasn’t, it would need to be aborted. The doctor also told Xiaohui that the two Chinese medicines she had taken without his knowledge during the pregnancy might have an effect on the fetus, and he suggested that she preemptively abort it. The doctor’s words were a heavy blow to Xiaohui, leaving her at a loss. Xiaohui knew that it was difficult to get pregnant given her condition, and that this “accidental” pregnancy was a miracle. She worried that if she aborted it, she might never get pregnant again, but if she didn’t, she might give birth to a deformed child. She was uneasy. Although the hospital had prescribed abortion medicine for her, she had nothing to assure her it would work out, and she didn’t know what to do.

At a meeting, Xiaohui fellowshiped on her worries and concerns about her fetus. Her sister patiently found passages of God’s word and fellowshiped with her, and Xiaohui read this passage, “So what does science do for people? What science does is that it only allows people to see the objects in the physical world and merely satisfies man’s curiosity; it does not allow man to see the laws by which God has dominion over all things. Man seems to find answers from science, but those answers are puzzling and bring only temporary satisfaction, a satisfaction that only serves to confine the heart of man to the physical world. Man feels that they have already gotten the answers from science so whatever issue arises, they try to prove or accept it based on their scientific views. Man’s heart becomes possessed by science and seduced by it to the point where man no longer has the mind to know God, worship God, and believe that all things come from God and man should look to Him for answers.”

Her sister fellowshiped, “We worship and rely on science because the opinions and rhetoric of science are implanted in our hearts. For example, ideas like ‘Science is omnipotent’ and ‘Science is supreme’ make us think when we are sick, we should see a doctor and rely on science rather than come to God to seek God’s will. When science and medicine can’t solve our problems, we fall into despair and pain. Just like, in experiencing your condition, when the doctor said there was no earthly chance that you would be pregnant, you were afraid and worried that your in-laws would look down on you and thus you lived in torment and saw the doctor as your lifeline. When the doctor said the medicine you had taken might influence your baby and advised you to abort the pregnancy, you put God’s words and deeds in the back of your mind and lived in anxiety and misery as you worried the child God granted you wouldn’t be healthy. The fact is that human beings were created by God, and that the defects in everyone’s bodies and what will happen in the future are all controlled by God, and God makes very precise arrangements for people. From God’s words we know that science is not the truth and cannot save people, it can only corrupt, confuse, and mislead people, so if we want to rid ourselves of the pain, we must accept God’s words as our principle of doing things, treat science correctly, and not superstitiously follow science. In your current situation, do what you must to protect the fetus, go to your scheduled examinations, but entrust the fetus’ fate to God and pray to God, and whether or not the child is born healthy, simply obey God’s arrangement, and in this way you will no longer live in suffering.”

After Xiaohui read God’s word and heard her sister’s fellowship, her heart was bright. She was deeply touched, and thought, “That’s right! I don’t understand God’s almightiness and sovereignty, and relying on and superstitiously following science has made my life miserable. But through my grandmother reading me God’s words so many times and fellowshiping on them, along with your fellowship and help, I have gained knowledge of what God orchestrates and ordains, and I will treat the problems I encounter correctly and not be toyed with or harmed by Satan. Actually, I have seen God’s authority in the matter of miraculously getting pregnant after stopping my hormone therapy, and I have personally experienced that science and medicine are flimsy in the face of God’s authority. Now the doctor advises that I take medicine to keep the fetus healthy, and says that if there are abnormalities I’ll have to abort it, so I’ve begun worrying and being anxious about this, which proves that I still don’t trust in God’s authority, that God presides over everything. I wish to pray and entrust the fetus to God, and at the same time, I’ll take the medicine to keep the fetus healthy for several weeks. I’ll leave it to God to arrange the results.”

Afterward, Xiaohui’s heart became calm, and she stopped worrying and being anxious about the fetus. At her third examination at the hospital, it was found that her progesterone levels were normal, and at all the regular checkups throughout her pregnancy, everything about the fetus was normal. She knew that God was protecting and caring for her, and her heart was filled with gratitude to God.

In January of 2018, Xiaohui gave birth without complications, and God granted her an adorable son. After he was born, and at follow-up examination, the pediatrician checked his bilirubin levels and told Xiaohui they were high and that he would need to stay in the hospital for treatment. If the condition couldn’t be treated, her son might end up with jaundice, which would cause permanent brain damage and impact his intelligence. The doctor’s assessment sounded very serious to Xiaohui, and she was worried that her son’s intelligence would be affected if he didn’t stay in the hospital, so she prayed to God, “God, You gave me this child, and his illness and everything else are in Your hands. How his bilirubin levels develop and whether they harm his brain are up to You, not the doctor. No matter what the result, I will submit to Your sovereignty and arrangements.” After praying, she thought of God’s words: “Any and all things, living or dead, will shift, change, renew, and disappear according to God’s thoughts. This is how God rules over all things.” God’s words strengthened Xiaohui’s faith. She decided to entrust her child to God. Half a month later, when Xiaohui brought her son back to the hospital for a checkup and found his bilirubin levels were normal, she again saw that God’s sovereignty and power are everywhere, and that only God is truly worthy of our reliance. While Xiaohui spoke with other mothers at the hospital, she learned that their children had to stay in the hospital for continued treatment because of very high bilirubin levels. Xiaohui rejoiced in her faith in God, not just because she didn’t have to spend the extra money, but also because her child didn’t suffer, and she herself didn’t need to suffer that worry and concern.

In her journey from infertile to pregnant, and then delivering a healthy child into the world, Xiaohui personally experienced and felt that God’s omnipotence and sovereignty are practical, that God’s words are the motivation for people to keep living, and that science is not the truth, that it cannot save people, and that it cannot change a person’s fate. Only God is the source of people’s life, only God presides over and orchestrates the fates of mankind, and that what people have and lack is entirely up to God. Xiaohui looked forward, in the future, to walking in the light of belief in and worship of God, and living under God’s care and protection.

[love-god-forever]

Miracle Testimony: God Treated Her Infertility and Gave Her a Healthy Baby

By Xiaodu

A spacious, bright living room with a crib, with a half-year-old baby lying happily inside, his small mouth sucking on his little fingers … Xiaohui, on the sofa, watched this scene with a smile on her face that had never before graced it.

That the once infertile Xiaohui could give birth to a healthy baby was not the result of scientific or medical treatment. This is a life given to her by God. As she looked back on the bitterness of more than two years of seeking medical treatment, she was filled with complex emotions …

In her early 20’s, Xiaohui married her boyfriend of two years, and after their wedding, she enjoyed her husband’s love and affection, but she also looked forward to giving birth to a beautiful baby and fulfilling her dream of starting a family. But Xiaohui was never able to get pregnant, and when she went to the hospital to look into why, the doctor told her, “The chance of curing congenital ovarian dysplasia is very small.” This was a deeply painful blow for Xiaohui, who desperately wanted a child. She said to herself under her breath, “How could this happen? And how could anyone respect a woman who can’t have children? If I can’t have a baby, will my husband still want me in the future? And my mother-in-law is waiting to meet her grandchild.” Xiaohui was trapped in negativity and misery as tears streamed down her cheeks …

“Doctor, medicine is very advanced today, and even though I know the chance of curing my condition and getting pregnant is low, I’d like to do my best to cure it. Doctor, please help me!” Xiaohui begged, as if she was pinning all her hopes of having a child entirely on the doctor. The doctor began giving Xiaohui the most advanced infrared warming disinfection treatment available, and prescribed medicine, but after half a year of treatment and spending more than 30,000 yuan, Xiaohui’s diagnosis hadn’t changed. There was no improvement. Xiaohui felt especially helpless. Was there really no cure for her condition? Xiaohui wanted to try her treatment at a hospital with all the necessary equipment and doctors with the country’s most advanced skills. She thought they would definitely have the answers there. So, she gathered up her information and went to a famous national hospital to seek treatment.

But, after the doctor quickly looked through the materials she brought and asked her some simple questions about her condition and treatment history, he said, “You’ve always had weak menstruation, you have small ovaries only a few millimeters long, and low estrogen. Your medical history and exam results are in line with the diagnosis of congenital ovarian dysplasia, so I won’t give you another examination. Instead, we’ll use artificial progesterone to artificially establish menstruation.” But, after two months of this treatment, there was no improvement in Xiaohui’s condition, and the side effects of the medicine left Xiaohui without an appetite. She was in such pain and misery she couldn’t continue taking the medicine. But, Xiaohui didn’t want to give up. She thought of all the hospitals and doctors that had successfully treated many cases of infertility she had read about online, or seen on TV and in advertisements, and she dreamed of being the next successful example. With her last hope driving her, she went to two well-known big hospitals. After her diagnosis, a famous doctor told her, “Your estrogen levels are very low, so you’ll have to use hormone replacement therapy for your entire life. You can’t ever stop the treatment, or you’ll age prematurely.” There was no question that these words were like salt rubbed in Xiaohui’s wounds. She never could have imagined that her condition would require lifetime hormone replacement therapy. Frustrated, Xiaohui had no choice but to listen to the doctor and undergo treatment for another half a year, but when she was reexamined, her ovaries were still undersized and contained no mature eggs. Xiaohui was utterly hopeless …

Xiaohui stared in shock at the results of her final examination. In the past two years, she had spent all of the 100,000 yuan she saved from work on her treatment. She also clearly remembered her experiences of suffering for her treatment: She took every test, medicine, and shot according to the doctors’ instructions, and all of it, she didn’t dare neglect a single detail; she went to every examination appointment, in the cold of winter or the heat of summer; she couldn’t recall how far she had traveled or how much blood had been drawn from her, or how many injections she had been given or medicine she had taken. But in the end, there wasn’t even the slightest improvement in her condition. Instead, she was physically and mentally fatigued, in pain, and thanks to the side effects of her long-term use of hormones, her weight increased from her original 45 kg to 60 kg. She was several sizes larger. When she looked at her moon-shaped face and bloated figure in the mirror, she felt a disappointment she had never experienced before. She had always felt that medicine and science were authoritative, but they weren’t as good as she imagined. Immediately she felt as though she had nothing to rely on, and she fell into sorrow and despair.

That night, Xiaohui rolled to and fro in her bed, unable to sleep. As she looked at the blackness of night outside the window, she felt helpless, and silent tears streamed from the corners of her eyes onto the pillow …

Xiaohui’s grandmother, who had always shown great care for her, came to her house and saw how tormented and hopeless Xiaohui’s infertility had made her. She gently advised Xiaohui, “Xiaohui, I know how much you’ve suffered and what you’ve gone through to treat your infertility the last few years. I’ve watched you go through all of it, and I’ve been very worried about you.” Xiaohui was silent as she held back her tears. Her grandmother continued, “The truth is, we don’t have any choice in the matter of whether we get pregnant. We can’t control it, neither can doctors or science. Only God can. You should believe in God. God’s word can resolve all the problems and difficulties we encounter in life.” Xiaohui’s grandmother’s words comforted her, and she felt her heart calm.

Her grandmother continued, “Xiaohui, let’s read two passages of God’s words and see what they say about having children.” Xiaohui took the book of God’s words and read: “People’s plans and fantasies are perfect; do they not know that the number of children they have, their children’s appearance, abilities, and so forth, are not for them to decide…? People go to any length for the sake of their offspring, but in the end, how many children one has, and what one’s children are like, do not answer to their plans and desires. Some people are penniless but beget many children; some people are wealthy yet have no child. Some want a daughter but are denied that wish; some want a son but fail to produce a male child.” “What is the cause of this pain? Is it because of God’s sovereignty, or because a person was born unlucky? Obviously neither is true. At bottom, it is because of the paths people take, the ways people choose to live their lives.” Her grandmother fellowshiped, “You can see how clearly God’s words explain the matter. Whether we have children, whether our children are boys or girls, what our children look like, and what they do in the future aren’t up to us, nor are they up to doctors. Everyone has their own fate, which is orchestrated and arranged by God. Take your own efforts to have a child as quickly as possible. You did everything you could, so why was this the result? It shows that God hasn’t ordained that you have a child at this time, but it doesn’t show that God has preordained you will never have a child, because we don’t know what God has preordained.”

After hearing her grandmother’s fellowship, Xiaohui recalled her experience of treating her condition, how she thought of every possible method and went to all the big hospitals, but in the end she still couldn’t get pregnant. Xiaohui acknowledged God’s words and her grandmother’s fellowship.

“Xiaohui, don’t bring yourself any more trouble to treat your condition. If God has ordained that you’ll have a child, then sooner or later you’ll be pregnant. If not, nothing you can do will make it happen. Just face it honestly and obey God’s sovereignty and predestination! Then, you won’t have any worries or torment, and you’ll be able to live happily and joyously.”

At that moment, Xiaohui began to understand that if or when she ever had a child was entirely orchestrated and determined by God, and was not something she could plan or arrange, nor was it something she could change through effort and medical treatment. After Xiaohui said a prayer of obedience to God with her grandmother’s help, she felt more relaxed and at ease than she ever had before. She no longer cared what others thought of her, and no longer cared how her parents-in-law and husband would treat her. Afterward, she no longer entrusted her ability to have a child to medicine, but left it in God’s hands for Him to orchestrate and arrange. In her free time, she went to her parents’ home to read God’s word and sing hymns of praise to God with her grandmother, and deep in her heart she felt the peace and joy of God.

One day, Xiaohui suddenly felt nausea. She thought it was caused by excess heat from eating the wrong food, so she took out two TCM prescriptions, but after taking them, her nausea only got worse. Only then did Xiaohui think: Am I pregnant? But then she thought to herself, “How could that be possible? I tried infertility treatments for two years with no success, how could I be pregnant?” But, purely out of curiosity, she did a pregnancy test. The result was positive. She was so excited she nearly leapt into the air. This was amazing! When she was trying to get pregnant, she tried for three years without success. After completely giving up on her plan to get pregnant and have a child and entrusting everything to God’s sovereignty and arrangements, she actually became pregnant. This was nothing short of a miracle! She remembered a story from the Bible her grandmother had told her: When Abraham was 100, and his wife Sarah was already 90, God granted them a son called Isaac. At an age when it appeared biologically impossible to us that she could have a child, a year later, Sarah truly did give birth to Abraham’s son Isaac. Xiaohui realized her grandmother was using this story to inspire her to understand God’s authority. The fact that she was pregnant today was a manifestation of God’s authority and power. Xiaohui felt uncontrollable joy in her heart. She poured out her thanks and praise to God, and was more certain than ever that all human affairs are part of God’s sovereignty and arrangements.

Xiaohui was immersed in the joy of pregnancy, but new troubles came one after another. The doctor told Xiaohui that she was prone to miscarriage, and that she needed to take oral progesterone to prevent it. She also had to get regular checkups to observe whether the fetus was developing normally, and if it wasn’t, it would need to be aborted. The doctor also told Xiaohui that the two Chinese medicines she had taken without his knowledge during the pregnancy might have an effect on the fetus, and he suggested that she preemptively abort it. The doctor’s words were a heavy blow to Xiaohui, leaving her at a loss. Xiaohui knew that it was difficult to get pregnant given her condition, and that this “accidental” pregnancy was a miracle. She worried that if she aborted it, she might never get pregnant again, but if she didn’t, she might give birth to a deformed child. She was uneasy. Although the hospital had prescribed abortion medicine for her, she had nothing to assure her it would work out, and she didn’t know what to do.

At a meeting, Xiaohui fellowshiped on her worries and concerns about her fetus. Her sister patiently found passages of God’s word and fellowshiped with her, and Xiaohui read this passage, “So what does science do for people? What science does is that it only allows people to see the objects in the physical world and merely satisfies man’s curiosity; it does not allow man to see the laws by which God has dominion over all things. Man seems to find answers from science, but those answers are puzzling and bring only temporary satisfaction, a satisfaction that only serves to confine the heart of man to the physical world. Man feels that they have already gotten the answers from science so whatever issue arises, they try to prove or accept it based on their scientific views. Man’s heart becomes possessed by science and seduced by it to the point where man no longer has the mind to know God, worship God, and believe that all things come from God and man should look to Him for answers.”

Her sister fellowshiped, “We worship and rely on science because the opinions and rhetoric of science are implanted in our hearts. For example, ideas like ‘Science is omnipotent’ and ‘Science is supreme’ make us think when we are sick, we should see a doctor and rely on science rather than come to God to seek God’s will. When science and medicine can’t solve our problems, we fall into despair and pain. Just like, in experiencing your condition, when the doctor said there was no earthly chance that you would be pregnant, you were afraid and worried that your in-laws would look down on you and thus you lived in torment and saw the doctor as your lifeline. When the doctor said the medicine you had taken might influence your baby and advised you to abort the pregnancy, you put God’s words and deeds in the back of your mind and lived in anxiety and misery as you worried the child God granted you wouldn’t be healthy. The fact is that human beings were created by God, and that the defects in everyone’s bodies and what will happen in the future are all controlled by God, and God makes very precise arrangements for people. From God’s words we know that science is not the truth and cannot save people, it can only corrupt, confuse, and mislead people, so if we want to rid ourselves of the pain, we must accept God’s words as our principle of doing things, treat science correctly, and not superstitiously follow science. In your current situation, do what you must to protect the fetus, go to your scheduled examinations, but entrust the fetus’ fate to God and pray to God, and whether or not the child is born healthy, simply obey God’s arrangement, and in this way you will no longer live in suffering.”

After Xiaohui read God’s word and heard her sister’s fellowship, her heart was bright. She was deeply touched, and thought, “That’s right! I don’t understand God’s almightiness and sovereignty, and relying on and superstitiously following science has made my life miserable. But through my grandmother reading me God’s words so many times and fellowshiping on them, along with your fellowship and help, I have gained knowledge of what God orchestrates and ordains, and I will treat the problems I encounter correctly and not be toyed with or harmed by Satan. Actually, I have seen God’s authority in the matter of miraculously getting pregnant after stopping my hormone therapy, and I have personally experienced that science and medicine are flimsy in the face of God’s authority. Now the doctor advises that I take medicine to keep the fetus healthy, and says that if there are abnormalities I’ll have to abort it, so I’ve begun worrying and being anxious about this, which proves that I still don’t trust in God’s authority, that God presides over everything. I wish to pray and entrust the fetus to God, and at the same time, I’ll take the medicine to keep the fetus healthy for several weeks. I’ll leave it to God to arrange the results.”

Afterward, Xiaohui’s heart became calm, and she stopped worrying and being anxious about the fetus. At her third examination at the hospital, it was found that her progesterone levels were normal, and at all the regular checkups throughout her pregnancy, everything about the fetus was normal. She knew that God was protecting and caring for her, and her heart was filled with gratitude to God.

In January of 2018, Xiaohui gave birth without complications, and God granted her an adorable son. After he was born, and at follow-up examination, the pediatrician checked his bilirubin levels and told Xiaohui they were high and that he would need to stay in the hospital for treatment. If the condition couldn’t be treated, her son might end up with jaundice, which would cause permanent brain damage and impact his intelligence. The doctor’s assessment sounded very serious to Xiaohui, and she was worried that her son’s intelligence would be affected if he didn’t stay in the hospital, so she prayed to God, “God, You gave me this child, and his illness and everything else are in Your hands. How his bilirubin levels develop and whether they harm his brain are up to You, not the doctor. No matter what the result, I will submit to Your sovereignty and arrangements.” After praying, she thought of God’s words: “Any and all things, living or dead, will shift, change, renew, and disappear according to God’s thoughts. This is how God rules over all things.” God’s words strengthened Xiaohui’s faith. She decided to entrust her child to God. Half a month later, when Xiaohui brought her son back to the hospital for a checkup and found his bilirubin levels were normal, she again saw that God’s sovereignty and power are everywhere, and that only God is truly worthy of our reliance. While Xiaohui spoke with other mothers at the hospital, she learned that their children had to stay in the hospital for continued treatment because of very high bilirubin levels. Xiaohui rejoiced in her faith in God, not just because she didn’t have to spend the extra money, but also because her child didn’t suffer, and she herself didn’t need to suffer that worry and concern.

In her journey from infertile to pregnant, and then delivering a healthy child into the world, Xiaohui personally experienced and felt that God’s omnipotence and sovereignty are practical, that God’s words are the motivation for people to keep living, and that science is not the truth, that it cannot save people, and that it cannot change a person’s fate. Only God is the source of people’s life, only God presides over and orchestrates the fates of mankind, and that what people have and lack is entirely up to God. Xiaohui looked forward, in the future, to walking in the light of belief in and worship of God, and living under God’s care and protection.

[cosmosogler]

last night was awful. my brother said he would try to be quiet so i could sleep, and i closed the door to the computer room, and he went straight back to screaming. i couldn’t sleep anyway.

i woke up many, many times throughout the night. and well before my alarm went off at 7:30 in the morning. i was so exhausted i didn’t feel comfortable driving myself to the hospital for my test. dad was super mad that i asked him to get up.

i had to wait like an entire hour for the procedure to start. and the doctor screwed up the first iv and had to try my other arm instead. my left arm hurt for hours. and my iv arm always gets stiff but that wore off much faster. i got pumped full of radioactive material!

oh, and my ipod decided to lock me out immediately before my procedure started. i couldn’t fix it before it was time to start. so i just had to lay there and stare at the inside of a machine for over an hour. i fell asleep. i lost track of my breathing, i hope i didn’t snore or anything.

the last half hour was the doctor sitting next to me slowly injecting like, some kind of digestive hormone that causes your gall bladder to dump everything? so they could watch the radioactive stuff travel through the organs involved. we talked about moving around a lot growing up. one of her parents was in the military so she spent most of her time on bases... the injection made me cramp up and get real nauseous real fast. but they didn’t need to take any extra tests, so i hope something normal is wrong. if that makes sense.

dad took forever picking me up afterward. i didn’t have time to make myself lunch before i had to leave for therapy. at least i got to finally brush my teeth and take my meds though.

i got to therapy right on time. i didn’t have time to look through my tumblr post last night to try and remember what i wanted to talk about so i meandered a little bit at the start of the appointment. i also had not had quite enough to drink and was pretty hungry so it was hard to focus. i must have only slept five hours... i was awake so much i couldn’t keep track of my dreams.

i get upset about tv shows i watch, because i get invested... i don’t think that was the reason i couldn’t sleep though. a while ago i considered getting dad into steven universe, but... i don’t know if he’d, be, ok with the relationship stuff, and the emotional expression stuff. he doesn’t like adventure time as much when it gets plot heavy and moves away from goofy jokes. it also takes a lot of paying attention to keep track of background details and foreshadowing so everything comes together nicely. that’s what made it hard to get people into homestuck too.

jojo is much more dad’s style.

i forgot where i was going with this. i brought up most of the things i wanted to talk about in therapy. my therapist is very encouraging. i’m not sure if that’s what i need. like, group therapy is really hard, and i get really, really agitated during/after. and... i guess i’m not getting better as fast as the other participants. but it’s harder to believe my individual therapist because she mostly just listens and tells me it sounds like i do work hard.

i don’t think i could manage group therapy if i didn’t have any encouragement though. so maybe the two together will be more helpful. 

still not really up to participating in group though. i didn’t do the homework again. i will consider doing it in the morning i guess.

and i did the dumb weird facial expression when i am legit upset but i also need to keep talking or the other person is going to get real confused. 

asher suggested i try to join a new fandom the other day. i haven’t been watching any motorcity in the last few weeks... i am also very shy and it’s hard to insert myself into an “established group,” especially when i don’t really make any content or contribute.

it’s also hard because i feel like i’m in, like, a transition period in my life right now and i recognize that it’s gonna get real busy real fast in august. any people i meet now, i might not have any time to connect with in two months. and two months isn’t long enough for me to build a new friendship.

the day is really hazy. i hate not getting enough sleep. i went grocery shopping with my brother. we spent all mom’s money. and mom scolded me for using my money for the doctor instead of asking her to pay for it. it was a lot... but i really didn’t have time to ask while i was paying.

oh, and i got the confirmation emails from ufl finally, so i can do the online orientation. if i ever have the motivation to move again. 

i didn’t really take any of the dogs out for exercise today. wiley’s going nuts. i haven’t walked him in like four days. with comicon i got too tired...

most of the evening i just spent in my room watching youtube videos. even when i knew they probably wouldn’t have anything interesting to say, or talk about things i hadn’t noticed.

but i found some cute dog videos!

not sure what i’m doing still awake. i’ve been up for a very long time. started writing the journal entry a little later than i wanted. 

oh, the chore chart. mom and dad already aren’t using it properly. they loaded up a bunch of weird chores on my brother and mom seems to think she threw out the reward markers. i think i talked about that yesterday? my brother and i are using them anyway though because she didn’t throw away the reward markers and i have no idea what she was talking about. but dad’s already asked me to do stuff he didn’t write on the chart. which is the opposite of what i wanted.

at least he asked, i guess...

not sure what i need to do next... besides show up for group i guess. but like, with my life. what sort of goal can i reasonably achieve in the next few days/weeks. i wanted to say “i will try again tomorrow,” but i thought about it today and i really still don’t feel up to putting in more of an effort. maybe i will have more energy tomorrow though. i don’t know.

[cassolotl]

Self-diagnosis in relation to doctors, Tumblr, and the disability community generally

In which I continue to be baffled by people who are against self-diagnosis, complete with descent into a frustrated “get over yourself” rant at the end.

~

So a few weeks back I wrote a thing about doctors failing a lot of autistic people, and celebrating that autistic people are diagnosing themselves and finding community.

I’d like to add that getting formally diagnosed was really helpful to me, on a personal level and also on a practical one - having a bit of paper from a doctor saying I’m autistic has allowed me to have access to various services much more easily, and it’s also taken away any doubt that I am autistic and I do experience various legitimate difficulties as a result of that. It’s helped me to accept myself, and even though it shouldn’t it has helped other people accept me as I am too.

So yeah, I am accepting of people who self-diagnose but alongside that I do also encourage people to get formally diagnosed if they think it might help them. It’s not like you can’t accept and appreciate both methods of self-discovery, you know?

But the reason I’m here is to talk about the reality of seeking diagnosis and how that fits with self-diagnosis.

~

My story starts sometime last year. I’d been unable to work for about 10 years due to, basically, tiredness - since I was 20-21ish. (So by the time I started to feel my life was severely negatively impacted by this condition I was probably older than most people who get hassle for self-diagnosing on Tumblr, right?) I couldn’t keep a job or even volunteer work because I kept calling in sick for tiredness. In the end I gave up. The GP tested my blood and told me that I wasn’t anaemic and didn’t have a thyroid condition, so they slapped on me the label of chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). There was no known cause or cure, and the treatment was graded exercise and CBT. She told me that with no other symptoms it’s considered by the NHS a psychological condition, and I supposed at the time that that meant it was psychosomatic, or like being unable to get out of bed due to depression. I was in my early 20s and not very familiar with the medical system, and I had no idea was autistic, and I just accepted the diagnosis. I was never really satisfied, because it felt like a cop-out, but I accepted it as best I could and moved on. I know now that CFS is usually not a condition on its own but probably a symptom with an underlying cause.

Fast-forward a few years, and I’d been diagnosed with autism and after some fighting the system I was getting support in my day-to-day life. I was around people who loved and accepted me, and I was getting therapy that was helping with, among other things, my autistic difficulties.

One day I noticed that my lower left leg felt weird. It was lighter and it felt kind of nice actually. It took me a few minutes to work out that this weird feeling was the feeling of a healthy, pain-free muscle. It felt weird, in other words, because it didn’t hurt. I had forgotten the feeling of no pain in my lower left leg. But the entire rest of my body felt this other thing - heavy, tired, unpleasant. You know, like normal, the way it feels every day from when I wake up in the morning to when I go to sleep at night. The thing that gets worse every time I walk around or up and down the stairs. I was so accustomed to pain that I thought pain was normal and how everyone felt, and a lack of pain wasn’t just a shock, it was difficult to recognise.

I realised that maybe my tendency to feel less tired and sleepy after taking painkillers might be a bit weird. I thought I was having a strange reaction to painkillers, in a caffeine way somehow, and I felt I shouldn’t take painkillers if I’m not in pain because that would be an unhealthy dependency.

But what if...

Everything is different when you’re autistic. I came to terms with the idea that my entire body is in pain all the time, and my brain has just stopped processing it as such. Even when I am paying attention and listening to my body and really feeling everything as best I can, I can detect no pain whatsoever. When it gets bad I feel like I have to go to bed and maybe nap, but when I get to bed I can’t sleep - and it’s because I’m not sleepy. I’m in pain, and I feel better for lying down in a nice comfortable bed in a safe place. And when I take painkillers, I magically feel better again.

Going to the GP about this wasn’t going to work. It could be anything. All-over pain could be a neurological problem, it could be cancer, it could be anything. I knew from experience that going to the GP with no other information wouldn’t work, because the fact that I hadn’t even been feeling the daily full-body pain I was in meant that unexpected diagnostic questions would confuse me and I would probably answer “I don’t think I have that” to everything. Yay autistic masking! \o/ She would say, as GPs have been saying to me for a long time, something like “I can write you a sick note and diagnose you with chronic pain but unless we have more symptoms to go on I can’t refer you to a specialist.”

However, for a while now I had been somehow connecting with people who had EDS. I followed people on Twitter who had it and even though I didn’t on a conscious level realise that we had things in common because they had pain and I thought I didn’t, I felt a kinship. I remembered the kinship I felt with autistic people before I realised I might be autistic too, and I made the connection.

For several months I self-diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). It’s a rare genetic condition that affects your collagen, which in some people is very serious. Wikipedia told me that the classical type is experienced by 1 in 20,000-50,000 people. Surely it is really weird to leap to the conclusion, out of the blue, that I have this one very specific and rare condition? It seems so improbable. But when I looked at people with EDS, their lives were so much like mine. Their coping mechanisms and management strategies that they’d come up with deliberately to deal with their EDS were so similar to the stuff I was doing by accident just to get from day to day. If I had the same symptoms and therefore the same diagnosis it would explain everything that isn’t covered by autism and being trans.

So I went into research mode. It took months. That’s how it is when you’re autistic, alexithymic, and are very bad at self-reporting. The Beighton Score part was easy because they’re bodily tests you can do yourself at home with clear results - but for the rest, sufferers of chronic illness will remember the feeling of discovery that goes, “wow, I thought everyone had that?” It was much more difficult than that for me. For every symptom, I had to fight through layers of “but I don’t have that” and “okay maybe I have that but surely not more than most people” and “but if I had this surely my mum would have done something about it when I was a kid” and “I have this but I don’t dislike it so surely that can’t be a symptom.” Because when you’re alexithymic, sometimes you kinda lack the feeling that is like, this is unpleasant, I’d rather this was better, and actually maybe that’s possible. Sometimes things that cause other people great discomfort don’t even register to you as unpleasant. Yay alexithymia.

I had to trick myself into acknowledging my symptoms. I had to compare myself to other people in a way that wasn’t dismissing my own experience, which was a very new thing for me. “I experience this, yes, but have I ever actually heard anyone else complaining about experiencing it themselves? If not, it is probably safe to assume that my experience is unusual and causing me problems, therefore relevant to a doctor.”

I had a Google Document bookmarked in my browser, with headings for each symptom of EDS. I mulled the symptoms over in the back of my head for a long time, writing down symptoms as I became sure of them. Such is my symptom-normalisation that it took months to add these to my list:

Joints dislocating (or partially dislocating) without trauma such as a fall on a regular basis;

Dizziness and passing out from movement or exercise that shouldn’t normally cause dizziness and passing out;

Stomach aches pretty much every day.

During this process, the company who provide my support decided that my care plans didn’t fit their company policy of involving the service user in their care as much as possible. They rewrote my care plans to include constant references to me doing at least part of every activity, with a view to me eventually becoming self-sufficient and no longer needing their care. I explained to them that I was discovering that I had EDS, and could they acknowledge that sometimes I just need people to do things for me so that I had more energy to be independent on my own later. They refused. They said that they would not provide support for EDS until I was diagnosed. They said, in fakey neurotypical language, that they didn’t think I had EDS. They ended our contract over it, a couple of weeks before I was due to attend my rheumatology appointment, and all of this while constantly saying that their service was person-centred. Not that I’m bitter.

A lot of people would doubt their self-diagnosis and stop trying to see a specialist at this point. But I went through similar stuff when I worked out I was autistic and people with power over me didn’t believe me, so I kept going anyway. If I saw a specialist and they told me I didn’t have EDS, at least I’d know.

I started to say openly online that I had EDS. People with EDS accepted me immediately, completely, and without question. But I knew that there were people out there who would tell me that they wouldn’t take me seriously until I was formally diagnosed, and would assume (since I blog on Tumblr) that I was just doing it to get disability points or whatever. “They say they’re nonbinary, autistic, asexual, aromantic, and now they’ve decided they have a rare genetic condition. Yeah, right. I guess their oppression points aren’t getting them enough attention. What a special snowflake.” For serious, the frequency with which I am assumed to be a teenage girl will not be at all surprising to a lot of people reading this. My reluctance to disclose my age and gender online gets me accused of teenage girlhood by TERFs and Tumblr-haters all around, especially if they know I’m on Tumblr. In reality I’m 30, mostly post-transition as openly nonbinary with the kind assistance of the NHS, and formally diagnosed with everything I say online that I have. (I do have some things that I’m not formally diagnosed with, and those are MH things that I don’t trust the NHS with for many legit reasons and I don’t talk about them online much.)

I learned that the type of specialist professional who can diagnose me is a rheumatologist. Eventually I made an appointment with my GP and printed out my symptom list document for her. It began, “if you’re reading this I think you can help me get diagnosed with and treated for Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.” For each symptom I described the severity and how often I experience it. From my 10+ years of GP dismissal for bad periods that turned out to be endometriosis requiring a hysterectomy, I remembered the magic words: “I’d like a referral to a [specialist] please.”

My GP happily referred me to a rheumatologist at my request, and I was on their waiting list for a few months. When I eventually arrived my document of symptoms was even longer; I’d managed to clarify a few more while I was on the waiting list.

I have told you this story to show you how long I prepared for my diagnosis appointment, how much effort I put into diagnosing myself and how much I had to know to even see a specialist who could diagnose me - and to emphasise how anticlimactic getting a diagnosis actually is.

The rheumatologist was very kind. He read through my document, which took a few minutes. And then he said to me, in neurotypical language so I’m hugely paraphrasing and he did not sound this rude in real life:

“I don’t know why you’re here. You know you have EDS, you don’t need me to confirm it. You know there’s not much I can do to treat you, and you’ve had it all your life so at 30 years old you have come to terms with the symptoms and you have lots of coping mechanisms and self-management techniques.”

He was kind and listened to my concerns. Here they are in bold, along with the rheumatologist’s response.

I’m not a doctor, I can’t ever be really sure, I wanted to talk to a doctor to confirm it because maybe I have something else kinda similar or I’m just wrong. “You have most of the symptoms, and you’re well-informed. You seem to be a pretty clear case to me. What can I do to help?”

Perhaps there are treatments or services that you can help me access? “It’s mostly a case of managing it all yourself at home on your own. Try to go out for a walk every day, and don’t rely on your knee braces because your knees need to get strong enough to support themselves and knee braces won’t help with that. But you will probably always experience this cycle of crashing and having to build up your strength again very very slowly. No one else can really help you with that.”

I’d like a bit of paper to show to people who want proof of my EDS, like the DWP (who provide income for disabled people in the UK) and support companies. “The DWP don’t care about bits of paper. They ask you to do a series of exercises like lifting your arms and moving your head around.”

This last one was difficult to hear, because the DWP would indeed declare me fit for work based on their usual tests, and the only thing that gets me out of that situation is letters from medical specialists describing my symptoms. Me describing my own symptoms is not proof enough. To put it another way, me saying “I experience daily pain all over my body” is not proof to the DWP, but a doctor saying “Cassian tells me they experience daily pain all over their body” is totally strong evidence.

The fact is that the support company who ditched me should not have needed a piece of paper saying I have EDS to provide me with support that suits my needs. They were happily providing me with support for autistic difficulties despite never having seen a diagnosis letter. They should have listened to me stating my needs, and then written care plans that suit those needs. But like the DWP, a piece of paper from a doctor saying “Cassian has these symptoms” carries more weight than me saying “I have these symptoms.” It’s kinda twisted, and my diagnosing doctor didn’t know it, but that’s how it is.

So basically, this is all to tell you that people on the internet totally trash self-diagnosed people on the internet, and say “I’m not gonna believe you unless you get a formal diagnosis, you’re making people who really have these conditions look bad, please stop” - but when you actually do get to see a doctor they have no problem whatsoever with self-diagnosis and they don’t understand why anyone would seek diagnosis for a condition that they already know they have. Doctors, they know, are for working out what’s wrong with you. If you already know the name of your condition, you don’t need to talk to them. If you are successfully self-managing and don’t need treatment, you don’t need to talk to them. And as far as they are concerned, you shouldn’t need to have a diagnosis letter to have your needs recognised and respected by companies and local authorities when seeking support.

“But Cassian,” some people will say, “you are quite a special case. You’re older and more experienced than most self-dxers on Tumblr, you did a lot of research for a long time, you did everything right. It’s a spectrum, you know? Your self-diagnosis was valid, but there’s a lot of blatant fakers out there on Tumblr.” NO SHUT UP. You cannot judge people on the internet like that! You know nothing about them and their life! And even if you feel doubtful of their self-diagnosis because of the way they talk about it or whatever else superficial reason, that doesn’t mean that they are making it up! You deciding that I am legit and they are not is PURE PREJUDICE and you can take your backhanded compliments elsewhere!

So like, let’s just go over that in very clear words so you know where I stand. I understand that diagnosis and disability and mental illness are complex and nuanced issues, BUT. Self-diagnosis doesn’t magically become invalid just because you say it does, and holy crap even if teenagers on Tumblr were giving everyone else a bad name no one would know because doctors and the DWP and local authorities and anyone who has any power over us at all DON’T H*CKING USE TUMBLR and have no idea that you think teenagers are making it up for attention. All of this tug of war between “self-diagnosis is valid (✿◡‿◡)~” and “self-dxers are attention-seeking Tumblrinas that give legit sufferers a bad name” happens in a little internet bubble that the VAST MAJORITY of people are blissfully unaware of, Jeeeesus Christ on a bicycle.

Okay, thanks for listening, I’m glad to get that out of my system.

~

[Also posted to Medium.]

[katesattic]

My Experience with Anxiety and Depression [and How Supernatural and Thomas Sanders (Unknowingly) Helped] #BellLetsTalk

I wanted to do something completely out of my comfort zone; I wanted to make a video about it. But then I kind of got sick and lost my voice. So that option’s kind of out. And with only two days until the event there is no way I would be giving myself enough time to learn how to edit, so even with my voice now coming back, there still wouldn’t be enough time. So, maybe I’ll try to make a video for next year. So here we are. Back to my usual format: writing.  And that’s OK. I can probably better articulate my thoughts this way anyway.

So, where do I start? Death anxiety? Social anxiety? Generalised anxiety? Depression? I guess with the death anxiety? I view it as my longest anxiety, though I could have possibly had the social anxiety longer, it was the death anxiety that was more difficult to cope with. Why don’t I just split it up into four parts so this way I’m not going back and forth on which I had when. We can focus on the chronology of each individually.

DEATH ANXIETY

So this one arose, as you could image, as the result of a loved one passing away. My grandmother specifically, though I called her Nanny, and to make things easier on myself, that’s what I’ll continue to call her.

I was no stranger to death. My younger sister, my baby brother’s twin, died at nine days old. At the time, I was three.  I definitely knew my parents were sad and that our family would be different yet again (nine days ago we went from a family of four to a family of six, now we were down to five). I knew things were going to be different, but I don’t think I understood the gravity of the situation. I don’t think I knew how finite death actually was.

Seven years later, I was ten, and my cat had been put down. I did not know this at the time, and my mum managed to convince the vet into releasing the body. So my mum brought our dead cat home and told us that she found the cat dead in the basement. For years, I swore I saw the cat’s ghost around the spot where my mum claimed she died. Now, I understand why the cat was put down, her health was deteriorating. But at that time, there was a void. She was my childhood pet and she “suddenly” passed away. I remember being legitimately sick after her passing, not just grieving but cough and fever, that whole deal. But not much else. It was twelve years ago after all.

 Two years after my cat died, so did my Nanny. To this day we still don’t know the exact cause. My dad suspects some things, but we have no definitive answer on what was his mother’s cause of death. I think I took this death the hardest. She was my favourite grandparent, and she was the first of them to die. How was that fair? Again, it was ten years ago, I was twelve, I don’t remember specifics. But I do remember a few years later when the family went to see the film UP, and I just couldn’t enjoy it. You know that beginning? Carl and Ellie’s whole life story is told in like five minutes? Yeah, well, I was kind of triggered by that. I didn’t know that was a term, but in hindsight, I was definitely triggered. Ellie reminded me of Nanny, and I just couldn’t get happy after the movie ended.

I also remember the death anxiety coming up randomly in class in grade eight, and thinking life’s so short and fearing what would happen to me after I died. I’ve had panic attacks about that. My most recent one was a really bad one in 2014. But now I don’t let myself go that deep. I don’t let myself go down that rabbit hole. I take a deep breath, tell myself “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” and find something entertaining to distract me from my thoughts. And that’s been working well so far.

SOCIAL ANXIETY

OK, this one doesn’t really have an exact start date. I can’t pinpoint any one event. I’ve kind of just always had it. And I just shrugged it off as shyness and introversion. But it’s more than that. I am definitely shy and introverted, but I also have social anxiety. When I was formally diagnosed, my mum wasn’t remotely surprised about this one. The depression was a surprise but this one she always suspected.

If anything, university made it worse. I mean, it was always an issue, but being in an entirely different province where I literally knew absolutely no one.  That didn’t help. I couldn’t even stand the thought of going to orientation. And I assumed that was because of my extreme shyness, though now I know it’s my near-crippling social anxiety. Hindsight is 20/20 after all.

I think it was during this time that I became much more active on the internet. Tumblr specifically, I love this website. But I began bingeing more on shows and would only really leave my dorm to go to the meal hall or class. I was just so terrified of social interaction. And I still am. But now I’m taking baby steps towards meeting people. Right now, all I can do is talk to people online, but if people don’t rush me and let me do it when I’m ready, I’d be fine meeting people in a comfortable and safe public place.

This is the one I think I have to work on the most. I know where I want to be and don’t know entirely how to get there, but I am taking small steps. I’m even telling people I suffer from social anxiety to let them know I’m not just being a bitch but that I am actually struggling and terrified to make social connections for fear of rejection.

The other real problem with this anxiety, for me specifically, is that I come off as bitchy and standoffish. Maybe I have bitchy resting face? I don’t know. But that’s what my mum thinks anyway. Whether I seem bitchy or snobby, or whatever is just what you see on the outside. Inside my mind, down that deep rabbit hole of suck, I am freaking the fuck out. Apparently, I mask that panic by looking snobby, who knew? But I assure you, if I’m actually being a bitch, you’d know about it. I don’t really keep that side of me quiet. But just standing alone in a crowd or in a corner? Yeah, I’m probably not plotting some bithcy scheme. I’m most likely terrified and seeking sanctuary in the very place that is so often cruel to me: my mind.

Meeting people scares the crap out of me. It really does. But I yearn for those social relationships. I am human after all. But going out into the world and actually seeking out people with whom to form those relationships? I’m not quite there yet. For now, I’m focusing on making friends online, but also people who live near me, so when I am comfortable, I will be ready to take that next step and meet them.

GENERAL ANXIETY

This asshole. This one was definitely brought on by university life. Seriously, I don’t think this would have affected me to the degree which it has, had it not been for university.  In some ways, university is better than secondary school, in others, it is exponentially worse. Procrastination only exacerbates the anxiety monster, but it definitely is not the cause. Deadlines. Terrifying deadlines, the weight of an assignment, and the fear of failure – the intense fear of failure – is the cause.

This one was kind of brought on hand-in-hand with my depression. I mean, I still stressed about marks before, but this really hit me hard when my depression stepped onto the scene. So both this beast, and depression entered into my brain after an event which I just call “the Academic Fiasco”. It is not an event I am comfortable discussing not because I am ashamed or embarrassed (though I am a bit) but because I don’t feel entirely out of the woods yet. And until I the woods are safely behind me (in other words: after I graduate) I won’t really be elaborating upon it. So the Academic Fiasco is a story for next year’s Let’s Talk Day.

Anyway, after the Academic Fiasco, I did enter into a depression. For several months. And ever since then I was never truly able to shake it. And it would come in waves. Sometimes I would be fine and my usual self but often the depression got in the way. So after the actual ordeal of the Fiasco was over with, and the depression had more or less subsided, I was then left with this anxiety. This dread that surrounded my marks in academia and my potential future career after obtaining my degree. This feeling just wouldn’t go away. And in November 2016, my friend started to notice that I was acting differently. She’s been my friend going on seventeen years now (we’ll both be 23 later this year), so she’s known me most of my life. And she could tell, through the virtual world, several provinces away, and through text not video chat, that something wasn’t right. My parents didn’t even know. Apparently, I hide my depression well. But my friend instantly suspected depression as she’s had it in the past and was medicated for it. She told me to seek help. So I booked an appointment at the Counselling Centre on campus and had a Brief Initial Consultation (where they would listen to me for thirty minutes to decide if my issues were serious enough to be waitlisted for therapy). It was during this time that the therapist believed I had anxiety, the death anxiety for sure, but also general anxiety. She didn’t really think I had depression, but she was certain I had anxiety. She suggested I seriously consider medication.

The thought had occurred to me once or twice. But until my friend expressed concern I hadn’t really thought about medication in a while. So, when the appointment was done, I went to the Health Clinic on campus and booked an appointment for the following Tuesday (I saw the therapist on Saturday).  And then I went home with nothing but the knowledge that I wasn’t crazy for thinking I wasn’t OK. And that was a relief.

It was over the next few days that I started to watch Thomas Sanders videos. Now, I know he’s been on Vine since 2013, but I really had no idea who he was up until that point. I didn’t have Vine, so I didn’t know him from there. But his vines would sometimes make their way on to my dashboard on Tumblr, so I knew of him. I knew he was that funny, relatable guy that I would occasionally see on my dashboard which could always bring a smile to my face in seven seconds or less. But I really had no idea who he was beyond that. I don’t really remember how I stumbled upon his vines on YouTube, but I did. It was there where I found an hour-and-forty-minute-long compilation of his vines – it definitely wasn’t all his Vines, but it was a significant amount of them. From there I started watching his YouTube videos. And I quite literally watched them all (check my watch history. I’m not lying) and have re-watched them many times since. For quite some time Supernatural – an oddly dark show – was the only thing that could completely distract me from my mind. Other shows and films could only do so for a time, but Supernatural and Thomas Sanders have consistently kept me distracted from the darkest areas of my mind. And this guy, this king amongst men, this angel without wings, not only did he distract me, but he brought genuine joy to my life during a time when I thought that to be impossible. Thomas Sanders wasn’t just a distraction from that horrible rabbit hole in my brain, he was genuinely uplifting. And for that, I will forever be thankful.

That following Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of November 2016, I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Together, my doctor and I agreed that it was best if I start medication.

DEPRESSION

Oy, this thing. Depression, my greatest foe. Honestly, depression is King Douchebag. Depression is that demonic Hobgoblin thing that likes to run about inside my mind and cause mayhem wherever it goes. It is the king of a shit-tastic court. This royal dickhead of a mental disorder is the reason I felt worthless after that Fiasco, this monstrosity of an illness was the reason I felt hopeless and joyless. Depression was the dementor, and my life was wasting away.

As I said above, in November I went to the therapist on campus where the therapist believed me to have anxiety but wasn’t convinced that I had depression. My friend, conversely, was certain I had depression. So that following Tuesday, after four days of bingeing Supernatural again, and watching copious amounts of Thomas Sanders videos, I went to the Health Clinic, and I talked about how I felt, and the doctor made me fill out two questionnaires. I was told to evaluate my last two weeks, rate how I felt from 0-4, and tick a little yes/no box on the depression sheet. Then she evaluated me. And she determined that I, indeed, had both depression and anxiety.

We decided together that medical intervention was best. I had been definitely suffering on-and-off since 2015. So I got the prescription and went straight to the closest pharmacy to my apartment to get it filled because I was not waiting another day. I knew the meds would take several weeks to start taking effect, so I didn’t want to waste any time. Why feel crappy any longer right? We decided on Cipralex because it’s a brand I knew (two friends of mine have taken it) and she said it had low side-effects. Now, it’s January 2017, and I definitely feel better. The meds definitely help, and I am in no way afraid to admit that.

COPING

So, I’m taking SSRIs but overall, how am I coping? Much better actually. When attacks strike, I do some breathing techniques and some light meditation. I’m also learning to face the problem instead of just hoping it goes away. Distractions might seem like nothing more than avoiding the issue but, honestly, they help. They help get you outside of your mind. And believe you me, I know how vicious the mind can be. So distractions are nice, even if they aren’t permanent. The other big thing is having someone to talk to, whether that is a friend, a family member, a teammate, a therapist, or some random stranger willing to lend you their ear. It makes a world of difference. To know that you are not alone is another big one. On days like today, it’s easy to see that. Social media is abuzz about Bell Let’s Talk. But throughout the rest of the year, it might not seem that way. And please know that if you feel alone and you need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me. You can contact me in various ways on social media or by email. I’ve been through the bad, and now I’m starting to see the light, and you will too. Just don’t be afraid to ask for help.

I started coping by escaping into shows. That’s the magic of a Netflix account. You can just binge. It doesn’t judge (except on some devices where it asks if you’re still there. Like, geez, I am just let me binge in peace!). CraveTV and the wonder that is Letterkenny also helped. It’s the best Canadian show I’ve seen in years and can’t wait for the St. Paddy’s special and season three. But the show that’s helped me the most has been Supernatural. I found the show on Netflix (I heard of it before and actually tried watching the pilot once before, but Mary on the roof scared the crap out of me, so I stopped) and binged all ten seasons. This was during my summer slump. I wasn’t truly depressed then, but there was just a gloomy air about me. After watching all ten seasons in under two weeks, I looked for other shows. I started watching Stranger Things but stopped at episode four after experiencing a panic attack (which was unrelated to the show or my usual triggers), and I have not picked up the show since. After being talked out of panic by my dad over the phone, I was calm enough to hang up. But I didn’t feel entirely at peace, so I went back to re-watching Supernatural. It was after that attack that I also watched season eleven through less conventional means (because it wasn’t on Netflix yet). And I started to feel better again. For several months, I just re-binged the show, albeit at a slower pace than I first watched it. It was the one thing that made me feel good. My worries melted away when that show was on, and I was enthralled in the narrative.

The other thing that helped me cope was Thomas Sanders. As I mentioned above, in the days leading up to my diagnoses, I stumbled upon a compilation of his Vines, and I was hooked. I found he made YouTube videos and I watched them all. I got Snapchat just so I could see his snaps. I followed him on Instagram and Twitter and liked him on Facebook. Then I found out he has a Tumblr (@thatsthat24)!  And it was magical. My favourite site and my new favourite internet personality, together! So I follow him there too. But unlike the others, I get notifications when he posts to Tumblr, and seeing those notifications are the best part of my day. It’s always something positive, or funny, or relatable, and it’s always certain to bring a smile to my face. I know that Thomas Sanders is only human and that he’s not happy every second of every day (if he were, he would be a game show host), but I really appreciate that everything he puts online is positive. I have no idea what goes on in his life, what anxieties he might face, but if he reads this, I want to thank him for brightening my day and making it suck a little less.  Because right now, he’s the thing that makes me happiest and I hope we, his fans, make him just as happy.

________________________________________________________

Holy! That was 3150-ish words (or 5 12pt Garamond single-spaced pages). If you stuck through it all, thank you. I hope #BellLetsTalk 2017 was everything you hoped it would be. And sorry for the length, but I needed to make sure I said everything. -KNC

P.S. I'm sitting here thinking about the family gossip that might ensue (because, before today, only my immediate family knew) and honestly, I don't care. I don't care if it makes them uncomfortable, because this isn't about them. My illness doesn't affect them, so I really don't care what they think or how they’ll react.