mental heath stuff (not bad just candid)
dunno if i'll regret sharing this just yet, maybe i should have sat on it a little more until i knew exactly if i should share and how much, but parts of me really insist, and so i guess we're going for it
and i word that way because
months of exhausting processing has led me to conclude that I’m a system, so I’m still in the undertaking of cataloging an awful lot of shit into one rolodex. the kicker is i probably have been one for at least 20 years, but everyone got along so well and so cooperatively, like the most well harmonized combining mecha, that is oblivious to the fact it even is one. nobody even needed nametags in here.
…mostly. warning signs were there, it's just some of the issues that come from this sort of thing that did leak through, were hiding under other conditions that already cause similar complications. if you're familiar with the messier mental illnesses and all the ways they start to functionally melt at the edges and trade symptoms in odd places and our understanding of it all is still so half-formed,
you'll probably get what i mean.
hopefully people following me understand none of this crap works like it tends to get depicted in media
i'm schizophrenic and my mind is a fucking enigma anyway
anyway
then one "new" alter woke up last november in response to an acute straw breaking camel's back moment of abuse at home after enduring way too much for way too long, but the alter is not actually new, is technically one of the oldest, but she's been 'asleep' for like a decade and her point of origin is even older than that
obviously this one was SO different and possessed SUCH a different headspace and set of tastes and desired behaviors, and subsequently threw equilibrium off so badly, all the components of the mecha suddenly realized they were components bc now the situation kind of required acknowledging that fact to proceed to even get starting fixing shit.
its like
"who is this weird one who broke everything"
"no clue, you guys got any ideas?"
"why would we have any ideas you don't, we're all us"
"yeah like what do you even mean by You Guys?"
"i think they're joking, like, because we're all copies of the same person, like the spongebob bit with the fine dining, they're asking themself rhetorically because it's funny……..
…….we are all the same person right. this is a metaphor. like the spongebob bit…… right….."
"why are we not all immediately agreeing"
"because before we could all reflexively say yes we realized we all had different definitions of The Same Person we are"
this is a gross oversimplification of course
this was a lot to process for pretty much all parts of me save one (incidentally, not the new one, the new one isn't shocked, but is a crybaby, so they didn't take Existing (Again) (2. Electric Boogaloo) very well. they do not take the prospect of 'going back to sleep' veryy either, though. so we're having to slightly redesign the mecha)
mostly through the worst of it, but among other problems we're still working to repair, this sleeper code alter caused a catastrophic system failure in the ventilation and even though everyone is mostly calmed down now, they can still smell everyone else's scented candles in their personal quarters, which is annoying when some of them have VERY different tastes in scents)
annoying, but not ruinous.
fixing the AC is low priority compared to other things
like the pneumonic tube that used to let everyone hot potato information and memories from any time they were the one obliviously in the cockpit, we had a pretty damn good one, it was working so well we didn't know why we were even using it, and assumed its regular but manageable failings were just, natural, or because of some other factor affecting the tubes themselves or potato availability, and not considering most people do not have these potato tubes at all
yes i will probably make some kind of comic to conceptualize and visually externalize this i struggle to feel understood without doodles
also, while typing this post, specifically, tumblr did a fucky wucky, and when i realized i'd made an entire other post in the tags, i went to try to copy/paste them into the post but the nature of the fucky wucky prevented this. i'm really not in the mood to retype all that so it's just a screenshot now
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i think editing this fic made it worse BUT in de-aging everyone in this fic by five years, i have accidentally created a delightful d-plot called jordie benn adopts wyatt johnston as his own child:
Wyatt says, through a mouthful of pancake, “yeah, so all four of them—no, six, but the oldest son got drafted and he’s over in Europe, still, and the other is went to college in Boston but he might come home for break, so there are only four of them downstairs, youngest one’s a girl and she tried to beat my younger brother with a snow shovel, because my brother was getting fresh but I just stood there and let it happen ‘cause Jordie told me you don’t ever get fresh with a girl and if a girl comes after you with a shovel you probably had it coming so maybe the other two sons come home soon and all four of them knock some sense into my damn idiot brother—what was I saying?”
Jamie squints. Jordie says, with a huge sigh, “The family lives downstairs, Wyatt.”
AND:
Wyatt comes clattering down the hallway. He trips on a loose floorboard but manages to stay up right. “I got it!” he says. “Mom says thanks for letting her borrow it, she took care of all my sisters last week. Is Jamie gonna give him a haircut? Hey—” he addresses Tyler directly “—Jamie will clean you up good.”
“Oh, good,” says Tyler. His smile is wider. “I bet he does.”
“Don’t run with scissors, Jesus Christ,” says Jordie abruptly. “Wyatt, who raised you?”
“You did,” says Wyatt. Jordie frowns at him, trying for irritated but Jamie can tell he’s pleased. Jamie takes the scissors, rolling his eyes. Wyatt leans around Jamie to look at Jordie dead on. “Hey, we’re going to play hockey, you wanna come, Jordie?”
“No, ‘cause I gotta work. Which you are making me late for. Thanks, boys,” says Jordie, when Miro and Roope appear behind him with a duffle bag of clothing. Jamie takes that too. It’s heavy – they must have packed a lot of winter clothing in it, and maybe some shoes as well. “You two are the best of men."
Wyatt makes a face. Miro looks smug.
("where's joe pavelski" the fic is technically tyler/jamie hurt/comfort but it's ACTUALLY wyatt johnston's indomitable fifteen year old spirit forces old men* [*men in their mid-late 20s/30s] to play hockey with him while they adopt him as their child. joe pavelski is there dw)
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well heyyyyy how ya doin!! how about our dear climbing chrash at a rage room please :] cause i know we've briefly discussed this before but tee hee i just think itd be funnn
Chris barely looked up from his phone as Josh walked over, hardly even lifted his eyes when he leaned on the wall beside him to look at the screen over his shoulder. "Trying to see...if...de-escalation rooms are a thing..." he explained without needing to be asked, frowning as (yet another) internet search turned up a whopping nothing, "I thought you were supposed to be..."
"Yeah, uh huh, roger that, the eagle has landed, Cochise." He held the bat up, giving it a little wave to catch his attention, then just as quickly grasped it with both hands again, keeping it solidly held behind his back; "We just neglected to take one teeny-tiny detail into account, see, and that's that, uh - " he'd seen it coming, so he didn't flinch, but snickered when Chris did beside him, " - there are many tools one can use to wreak havoc, young grasshopper, and unfortunately, Ash has decided her hands work just fine."
After chucking the last of the chintzy vases at the wall, Ashley let out the sort of sound heard on wilderness survival shows (usually after a contestant managed to wrestle a bear to death or pulled themselves off a cliff before the camera crews rushed them to keep them from dying), her legs went out from under her and she plopped to the ground in a sprawl, her shoulders rising and falling heavily with exertion.
"Oh thank fuck," Josh started, though Chris just kept typing away into his phone, "I think she's worn herself ou - nope, wait, shit, there she goes again."
six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!
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me thinking about how productive i could be if i had a car
me thinking about how many hours of my day i could spend doing whatever i want if i had a car
me thinking about going to multiple stores in one trip if i had a car
me thinking about being able to work any shift i want if i had a car
me thinking about getting all my errands done in an hour if i had a car
me thinking about not getting a sunburn from waiting for the bus every day if i had a car
me thinking about being able to get food from a drive thru if i had a car
me thinking about going places after 7pm if i had a car
me thinking about smoking in my car if i had a car
me thinking about how much less my body might hurt if i had a car
me thinking about taking my friends out if i had a car
i absolutely could not afford to buy even a craigslist car and i definitely cannot afford gas and maintenance and also i hate car dependent infrastructure and the ecological havoc the automotive industry is wreaking on the planet. but sigh. if i had a car....
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