#and then at 24 i got a diagnosis of DID

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[chronicbackstabbingdisorder]

It annoys me to no end when I see big sweeping statements about 'all' autistic people. Like, no we're not a monolith, my symptoms aren't someone else's symptoms, and vice-versa . Like for a some personal example, 'all autistic people are good at math', super untrue for me. I have a math disorder, my brain just isn't able to understand beyond the most basic math, it's all just strings of numbers and symbols to me and none of it forms into anything I can understand, like I was never able to figure out division and to this day cannot do it without a calculator, to put that into perspective. But like, it's the same shit as when a doctor won't diagnose someone because they can hold a conversation or keep eye contact, there's no Always for these things.

[primussavethesemechs]

I want the human/cybertronian life difference to be talked about more in canon

Cuz I mean. it’s RIGHT THERE.

Just a smidgen of true acknowledgment I BEG YOU HASBRO‼️

i mean come on all it takes is someone mentioning how long the wars been going for one of the humans to go “4 MILLION YEARS???? WHAT THE FUCK HOW OLD ARE YOU???”

And optimus or ratchet to be like “…5/7 million?” And all of the humans to have a break down CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUVE BEEN ALIVE SINCE BEFORE THE HUMAN SPECIES EXISTED??? WE WERE MONKEYS WHEN YOU WERE BORN???

And the (woefully uniformed) cybertronians to be like “??? What do YOU mean your species was still evolving when I onlined, how long do you guys live?? A thousand?? A few hundred??”

And the gobsmacked humans to be like “??? NO WE HARDLY LIVE OVER A HUNDRED ITS CONSIDERED AN ACCOMPLISHMENT?? AVERAGE OLD AGE DEATH IS LIKE MID 80s!! TECHNICALLY THE AVERAGE LIFE SPAN IS 72 OR SOMETHING???”

Cue the autobots being like “😨 72??? THATS A CHILD WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT⁉️”

the more attached/emotional bots looking at their charges and realizing that not only are they sparklings compared to them but they’ll die as sparklings too in just a few decades, causing them to straight up have a mini meltdown.

Yeah they’re in a war and they’ve lost plenty of friends, but never to anything as predictable and inescapable as old age.

It’s the seeing-it-coming part that gets to them, the slow dread of knowing that even if they do everything right and keep them out of danger and they stay healthy there’s nothing they can do to stop them from withering away in a couple of decades.

Most versions of bumblebee looking at their charge/friend and realizing his assumptions about the fact that since they’re both still young that they’ll have plenty of time to just. Live together and have fun- are wrong?? Immediately tears. Even if cybertronians can’t cry tears he’s doing whatever the equivalent is and running away to cry in his room. And then running back to snatch them and take them with him cuz HE CANT WASTE A SECOND IF THEIR LIFESPANS ARE REALLY THAT SHORT HES GONNA JUST HAVE TO SPEND 24/7 WITH THEM

This whole concept ESPECIALLY applies to TFP since all of them got their own little human buddy and there’s only like 5 autobots to begin with (of the main season 1 crew) they’ve lost so many of their own so recently, their numbers are already dwindling down to nothing, they’re losing the war and the kids are what’s given them a major morale boost. To continue fighting they need hope, and the kids have kind of become their hope for the future- to know they’ll die off in under a century despite how young they still are is a shot to the spark.

Look me in the eye and tell me bee wouldnt panic hearing that Raf only has 70-80 years to live. LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME HE WOULDNT HAVE SOME KIND OF FIT OVER BEING TOLD THAT HIS LITTLE BUDDY (from a cybertronian perspective) HAS A LIFESPAN EQUIVALENT TO A LATE STAGE TERMINAL ILLNESS DIAGNOSIS. Bee would start treating Raf like a kid with stage 4 cancer 😭

I just KNOW bulkhead would have the worst reaction other than bee, maybe even worse cuz he looks at miko and realizes she’s used up basically a fifth of her entire lifespan already and she’s Still So Little and straight up starts weeping. That’s his DAUGHTER you can’t take her from him so soon it’s not FAIR! He might have to go destroy a canyon wall or something to let some of the anger and grief out

Arcee is Not taking it well either.

She JUST got attached to this one, just got used to a new partner and your telling her that no matter what she does he’s never going to last as long as tailgate of cliff jumper did?? Even if both he and she do everything they’re supposed to do to protect him and extended his life?? Depression time baby

Optimus and ratchet don’t react as much outwardly to the news as the others but inside they’re both 💔💥

These kids have brought optimus a level of contentment he hasn’t felt in vorns, and he sees how bright their spirits shine- Only to now know those precious spirits will burn out in less than a century- it gnaws at him inside, yet another strike from the cruelty of fate

Ratchet is devastated but refuses to acknowledge it, these kids- yes even miko- have become his pseudo grandkids and he’s not ready, nor will he ever be ready, to outlive them. Jacks reminds him too much of a younger optimus, still learning and still hopeful. Miko is… well she has a fire to her that ratchet can appreciate (when she’s not actively annoying him) she’s determined enough to make anything happen which he does begrudgingly respect even if he wishes she wouldn’t just throw herself into any and every situation just for fun.

And Raf…

Raf is his apprentice, the only one of the kids to understand him and listen intently to his stories of cybertron. To show appreciation for his work and his ideas, to Listen and Learn and Improve his inventions. He harbors the most fondness for Raf since he sees so much potential in him, and has taken him under his wing in teaching him cybertronian language and biology.

He feels almost like he’s training a student to take his place- only for the ground to be ripped out from under him to know that Raf will never have the chance to succeed him, will never even outlive him.

A parent should never have to bury their child, and ratchet already feels that he has.

-

TLDR the autobots find out humans have fruit fly lifespans next to them and become one big soggy mess of tears, optimus and ratchet included although they try to have a stiff upper lip about it (and fail to varying extents)

I swear this was supposed to be about any and all continuities but TFP took over completely😭 idk it just fits the best since they focus so much on how attached the bots get to the kids

Edit: btw this was inspired from the fact I found out that the cybertronian equivalent to a year (yes I know technically they have solar cycles which are roughly a human year but what they consider a year vs their lifespan/time perception is different) is a vorn. A vorn is 80 HUMAN YEARS. I saw that and went “oh wow a vorn is like a whole human lifespan!😃” and then I went “OH A VORN IS A WHOLE HUMAN LIFESPAN 😀“

[drferox]

My MS Diagnosis

So I’m approaching the 2 year mark since my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis and I thought I’d better document how I got here, because being the patient is a weird experience, especially for a condition that had kind of vague symptoms that needed a fair amount of work up.

My symptoms actually started in early 2020, when I was in the third trimester of pregnancy. The main symptom was mistaken for carpal tunnel syndrome - numbness in my fingers that would progress to increasingly violent pins & needles sensations, that would progress to burning if I tried to push through it. Only this sensation would extend all the way up to my shoulders at times. I stopped performing surgery, because not only was I unsatisfied with my lack of sensation to know what I was doing with my tissue handling, but the pain would get worse quickly in constrictive surgical gloves in the presence of patient warming. So I stopped performing surgery in late pregnancy and was told it would get better a few months after giving birth.

It did not.

So six months after giving birth, finding myself able to use my hands for short periods but still unable to perform surgery to my standard, I went back to complain to the doctor. I also couldn’t play video games properly, my arms would often be numb when I woke up, all the way up to my shoulder, and they were super temperature sensitive. Even hot water from washing dishes would set them off.

They sent me down a carpal tunnel work up - ultrasounds and talking to a neurologist. The short version is they did tell me I had mild carpal tunnel… on one side only.

Which did not make any damn sense considering I had symptoms on both sides all the way up to my shoulder.

The worst neurologist in the world could not explain to me why a mild problem on one wrist was affecting sensation all the way up to the opposite shoulder, and just said ‘it happens sometimes’. Now, I like to think I have a solid understanding of the basics of how a body works, and was really unsatisfied with this answer. They recommended I talk to a surgeon, since I’d already been doing a bunch of physiotherapy, but I decided not to. Surgery could have put my hand in a cast for up to 6 weeks, I had a 6 month old baby to care for at home and a partner who was useless at best, and abusive at worst. I could not afford the time in a cast.

So I went to try something else, visiting an osteopath to see what they could do about my ‘mild’ carpal tunnel, and while I’m there, these headaches I’ve been getting.

She spent a good long while stretching out different muscle groups, and found that certain neck muscle stretches changed the sensations I was getting in my fingertips. So whatever was causing the hand problem was coming from somewhere in the neck, and she recommended I get a CT scan.

Went back to my doctor to get a referral for a CT scan, and explained what was going on. He thought about it for a minute, didn’t voice his concerns, and upgraded it to a neck MRI.

That MRI found a demyelinating lesion in my neck. So went back for a full Central Nervous System scan and found a couple more borderline ones.

That sent me back to a (different) neurologist, had a proper neurological exam that found a few random patches of altered skin sensation in addition to the arm weirdness I had going on. So I was probably a MS case, but not particularly severe as MS goes.

To confirm it I needed a lumbar puncture to look for oligoclonal bands in by CSF. The lumbar puncture was a moderately unpleasant experience which then mandated that I remain lying down for 24 hours so that my spinal fluid didn’t spring a leak. With a baby and a distinctly unhelpful partner, I barely made it to that 24 hours.

And then… I sprung a CSF leak. Which is a jolly weird experience I can tell you.

When your CSF leaks from a lumbar puncture you will feel perfectly fine… when you are lying flat on your back, because your spine flops over the hole and plugs the leak. If you’re upright at all the spine flops away from the hole and it slowly leaks out, and you get more of this weird frontal headache that gets worse the longer you’re upright, standing there talking to the ER admissions nurse. And the info I had explained that it can progress to seizures and similar the worse it gets, but I only got as far as pain and fuzzy vision. I seriously could only be upright for ten minutes without pain, and had to lie down to resolve it.

That required some medicine-that-looks-like-magic to fix, called a blood patch. Doctors took some of my blood, fresh out of the vein, and inserted it into my spine approximately where the leak should be, so that the clot would cover the leaky patch. Self blood magic. It worked brilliantly, about an hour later.

The CSF tap ordeal confirmed the presence of the oligoclonal bands, and then I got stunted into the public health system, in a department specifically geared towards managing Multiple Sclerosis patients. They debated for a little while, at a multidisciplinary meeting, whether I was really MS or a Clinically Isolated Syndrome (which is like Multiple Sclerosis but without the ‘Multiple’ part), but settled on MS. Yes, Tumblr, I was nearly diagnosed with CIS.

The shoe thing took about a year from when I actively complained to doctors, or about 18 months from the first probable symptoms. That’s approximate because some things that were thought to be pregnancy symptoms could have been due to MS, like fatigue and leg weakness. I’m pretty lucky that I’m comfortable in hospitals and with medical procedures, am reasonably medically literate. I think the magic phrase that got things to happen quickly was ‘these symptoms are greatly affecting my ability to do my job’.

I don’t think my MS has progressed since starting the medication (and I’ll talk about the medication in another post). I’ve acquired one additional brain lesion since diagnosis, but I have no clue what physical symptom it’s associated with.

While some symptoms are better, I still cannot perform surgery to the standard or with the endurance that I used to,so I basically don’t any more. I can do about ten minutes, which is enough to bail a new graduate vet out of trouble, but not enough to take over completely for them. I’ve had a few years to think about it but I don’t know what the MS is going to do to my career, only that I can still practice for now.

It’s not great, but it could be a whole lot worse, and that’s how I got here.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

A few months ago I sended an ask sharing my experience in the begginning of the diagnosis process, and im happy to say I have in fact been diagnosed autistic!

It wasnt easy, like at all. The first doctor I went to presented me with a list of stereotypes on why I "wasnt autistic", like eye contact during our sessions and hability to make friends. And that was really hurtful. But I did search for a second opinion (which unfortunately cost me a lot money wise, AGAIN) and this doctor clearly saw my autistic traits and was able to diagnose me.

So for anyone struggling w this, I just wanna say first, selfdiagnosis are completely valid too, the experience I went through was unnecessarily grueling so I respect ur self diagnosis. Second, if u do want to go through the official diagnosis process, remember to trust yourself more and that u can absolutely know more about yourself than most doctors . Advocate for yourself, if I had just listened to the first doctor i would be so miserable rn, but now i can fully say "I was diagnosed at 24." And that feels good. 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Hi there,

It’s great to hear that you got an official diagnosis! I do agree that self diagnosing is valid as well.

Thank you so much for sharing your experience. I’m sure it’ll be very helpful to others.

I appreciate the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[teaandmisanthropy]

We had to say goodbye to Snookums a few weeks ago, on August 16, 2024. These are some of the last pictures I have of him.

He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as a result of (probably) lymphoma and had been losing weight for a couple of months and his digestive system was deteriorating.

He got lots of attention and extra treats at the end of his life, and he lived to the age of fifteen and was a happy, goofy, lazy snugglebug who was full of affection for us and friendly to everybody, including multiple dog acquaintances. He was a devoted, biddable sidekick to the BB (Arwen) (2007-2021) and a wonderful adoptive uncle to Tristana (2020, adopted April 2021-). And despite being a mellow fraidy cat who had always been submissive before, he didn't hesitate to become the senior boss cat and tell off Anubis (who is young and unusually strong and was about half again his size) and actually defended Tristana from Anubis's attempted attacks a few times when he managed to breach containment.

Snookums was my baby, and what you might call my familiar animal or one true cat, from the time we brought him home. He spent three days hiding in a blanket cave in the sauna at our old apartment in Turku and wouldn't eat for over 24 hours, until I finally got him to by feeding him from my hand.

He was afraid of crackling noises and especially plastic bags and loved chasing/ collecting hair elastics and chewing on rubber bands and silicone oven mitts and old wired earbud wires, all of which had to be hidden from him. He loved kisses and his method of kissing was to headbutt you in the head, earning him the nickname "butthead".

He was also the most talkative cat we had ever met when we got him, and used to meet me every time I came home and make a long speech that I referred to as the Kittysburg Address. He purred very loudly and was terrible at cleaning his own claws, which was perhaps partly because he was already missing a couple of the tiny teeth when we got him at age 1.5, but mostly because he was lazy. So he had to have toe gunk cleaned from his claw sheaths basically his whole life and he hated it, but was fundamentally non violent, so the most resistance he ever offered was occasionally squirming in a half hearted escape attempt.

When he was young he also used to wake me up in the middle of the night wanting to play, and I woke up many times back then to find his toys (usually hair bands and silicone oven mitts) in or around the bed. But even when young and irrepressible, Snookums was pretty lazy and spent much more time snoozing and snuggling than the BB, who often ran around bouncing off the walls without him, even though he was her constant companion and playmate.

In later years he got more lazy, as well as becoming more like himself in other ways (snuggly, silly, food-motivated), and he also acquired diabetes, which reduced his energy a lot. But he lived for about six years with his diabetes under control after his diagnosis, and was doing very well recently. The final illness was probably not related to his diabetes.

For many years, actually since he was very young, I used to periodically just start crying while I was holding him in my arms, because I loved him so much. The spectre of losing him someday, even when it was far in the future, was already scaring me. (We got him two years after the death of @waxjism's One True Cat, Lily, so this wasn't out of left field.) Maybe I did some of my grieving in advance. I felt like I didn't have time to grieve right after, but even though the sadness is massive, I have had an easier time adjusting my brain to the new reality than after the loss of past pets. Cornish rexes are very snuggly and affectionate cats and most of them spend a lot of time lying on people's laps, giving out hugs, basically, but Snookums is the only pet I've ever felt was comforting and soothing me just as much with his snuggles as I was soothing him.

[thebibliosphere]

How did you get diagnosed with MCAS? Did you take a test?

I saw a specialist who also diagnosed me with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.

And I did several tests; the most common is a tryptase test, but it's not uncommon for people with MCAS to test negative for excess tryptase because excess tryptase is typically a sign of mastocytosis*. I also tested negative for most of the things I am allergic to because they are not IgE-mediated allergies but an underlying problem with my mast cell stability.

A lot of MCAS knowledgeable doctors now diagnose MCAS based on a comprehensive patient history of symptoms and how you respond to a higher dose of h1 and h2 mast cell stabilizers. That's how I got my "probably MCAS, follow MCAS protocol" diagnosis.

---

*Excess tryptase levels can happen in MCAS, but you need to be in an active flare/borderline anaphylaxis to detect it, and no ER is going to stop and draw blood instead of saving your life. The 24-hour urine test is more accurate than the blood test, but even if it's not kept frozen/chilled the entire time it's waiting to be tested, the result can be ruined. Also, not all labs are equipped to handle the immediacy with which they need to be tested once you submit the sample, which has led to ruined or inconclusive results. We desperately need better testing methods.

[queercatessays]

For nearly 20 years I didn't realise I had a personality disorder

As a teenager, I knew it wasn't normal to think the entire world was your enemy. I knew it wasn't normal to feel utterly empty inside, to feel like the whole world was behind glass, out of reach. I never knew who I was, or what I wanted. I wanted whatever my favourite person wanted. I existed through others, like a shadow.

I had empathy, but no morals. If it didn't affect me, it didn't matter. I was never violent, but inside I was always angry, so I got good at lying. I'd say for a long time nearly every word out of my mouth was a lie in some way. If I told the truth, it was only to shock people, or to hide something that REALLY made me vulnerable. But normally I was quiet, and because I was quiet, no one really noticed me, till my emptiness became so absolute I finally saw a psychiatrist. You'd think a psychiatrist would immediately recognise the problem. They didn't. I saw 10 experts at the youth mental health center, none of whom could diagnose me with anything. In the end they settled on autism, which is true but not the whole picture. I went on with my life, hating everyone around me, feeling like I must be the only person on earth who feels this way. I felt like an alien, barely human, but at the same time I felt like I was a god, better than everyone around me. I was everything and nothing. I saw counsellor after counsellor for my mental health issues, but they were all terrible listeners, and I was belligerent patient. I never did get any help for my problems, which included all manner of self-destructive behaviour, including eating disorders. But, somehow, over time, through finding people who could accept the mess of a person I am, I was able to heal. I'm not normal, nor will I ever be - or want to be. I still have black and white thinking - friend or enemy, no in-between. I still get suspicious of people and even as I write this I'm full of paranoia (another thing I've had for 20 years), and honestly, I might always feel like an alien. But I'm not alone anymore, and I'm not full of pain 24/7. And it's been a lot easier to deal with all this since I met a friend who happens to have BPD and ASPD. They were talking to me about their experiences, and I tell you now I related to every word. It shocked me, cos I imagined people with personality disorders were violent abusers, which of course I wasn't (despite wishing murder on the entire planet back in the day lmao). The propaganda had got into my head. But when they talked me through things, I realised yeah, I definitely have something. Probably BPD with ASPD traits, or the other way round, but I've not got a diagnosis and honestly, with the way I've been treated, I have no interest in getting one. It's enough for me to be on here reading people's posts and knowing that hey, there are people like me out there. That's why I'm writing this, too. In case someone out there needs to hear it. If you're relating to all these personality disorder posts, then trust yourself. And if you're having an awful time, wondering if there can ever be a way forward, then trust me: there is. I believe in you. My brain is completely and utterly fucked, but I'm still here, and I don't intend on leaving any time soon. All my love to everyone struggling with these stigmatised conditions. We've got this <3

[theswiftheartsystem]

We got posted on r/fdc let’s discuss.

So we knew this was going to happen, and rather then being sad about this, we’d like to point out flaws in the arguments. Obviously warning for fake claiming.

also warnings for: talks about trauma and abuse, splitting, mental health episodes, psyche wards, ableism, making a joke out of exorcisms.

First off, “disorder salad” on that introduction post we only talked about things we were medically recognized as having or diagnosed with. Also the “it’s always the anime ones” it’s a picrew? A lot of Picrews are in a anime style, and if you go to Louise’s actual alter intro she uses not just picrews.

This one is just making fun of us. I don’t think we have ever fully posted why we are so connected to the character, but I’ll explain now. So when we were little we went through a lot of abuse and trauma. We had a lot of DVDs and a couple were CareBears. And we felt safe when we watched silly little characters like that. It brought us relief. We aren’t sure why we are so attached to Swift Heart specifically, but we have a little who is obsessed with the color blue and rabbits that formed around that time. We even own the original 80s plush which we found thrifting and means so much to us, plus a few other things of the character. We named our system this, not only because it represents our trauma, but also it represents safety, a light in the dark.

When did we self diagnose???? Also in that post we state that we intend to talk about the bad sides. We don’t think this is fun. Yes we portray ourselves a certain way, but we actually have constant flashbacks, panic attacks, and BPD episodes. It’s sometimes a daily thing. For around 2-3 weeks we would split at least once a day. We don’t think thats fun. But also sometimes you can enjoy life and enjoy being plural. When you live like this you learn to enjoy what you have and what you are living with. If we didn’t we wouldn’t survive. How parasocial do you have to be to think A TUMBLR ACCOUNT shows how we are 24/7.

Going back to the Self Diagnosis thing, We were being treated for DID before anyone put a label on it. We were talked to about “how when someone has many parts of them, sometimes fusion can help them feel more whole.” And asked when dissociating and acting strange who we were regularly asked who we where. When we we’re 15, we had gone to the Psyche ward for the 2nd time, and they couldn’t diagnose us, because of our age at the time, but they strongly suggested we get tested for it when we were old enough. And to get them to recommend anything, they have to talk to all the therapists, doctors, and psychologists, especially the ones who work with you. It’s been years since then, and guess what? We still have DID!

Finally the last claim out of the first comment, the Sub-System thing, that wasn’t in the original post, and I’m unaware who edited it in, but the reason we are confused if they are a subsystem, is because they are plural as it’s where dormant alters are stored. They speak as one and it’s quite strange. Not sure how to explain it.

Okay, comment 2:

The difference between DID and OSDD-1 in the DSM-5 is it’s nearly DID but isn’t quite. (Bad explanation, but these people need simple explanations) often times, it’s the alters are not distinct enough from the host, or a lack of blackout amnesia. This isn’t always the case but that’s what they were referring to. Also have you read the DSM-5’s entry on DID and OSDD-1?.. We have, many times actually. Guess what? it’s purposefully vague FOR A REASON. Because disorders are complex and wouldn’t be able to fit everyone if it was to specific.

This is just ableism. We have been told this by people and our life (luckily nothing was done), and we have heard stories about systems going through this. This stuff is incredibly traumatizing to the people who go through it. This kind of rhetoric being treated as a joke is disgusting.

We aren’t online everyday (also you, the person who commented this, have posted 10 times in the last 11 hours)

The stuff we are “faking” are often co-morbid with DID?!?!

I’m pretty sure this comment is trying to be like “they are doing it for attention to deal with their trauma that’s so sad 🥺🥺🥺”

If that’s the case, you are adding onto the problem

if you believe us and feel bad for us, thanks, but posting it on that subreddit just boost the post which can lead to harassment.

That’s literally the words that was told to us. By our former therapist. We believe it’s C-PTSD, but we put that instead of that because some reason we struggle to believe we have PTSD more then we do DID at this point.

Anyway, yeah, we’d thought we debunk/explain why the argument they have is stupid, they have a platform, but so do we.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #37

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36]

[AO3] [wattpad]

*CW-Long term affects of medical denial & child abuse, living with PTSD *Kink & toys mentioned

((I keep forgetting to tell you guys: Lyly is pronounced "lee-lee." It's short for their middle name, Llyn/Lynn (<-genderfluid affected spelling)))

~POV Mori~ I woke up gasping. I sat up and wrapped my arms around myself so I could tell the difference between actual physical touch and the phantoms left over from my night terror. My body wouldn't stop shaking; I needed Lyly's help. When I got out of bed I froze. Not only did my bed not have curtains, this wasn't my room. No. This was my room. Sinbad picked it out for me in the guest tower. I was in Sindria; in a whole different dimension. All of the adrenaline supporting me left and I sank to the floor. I was still trembling but I wasn't scared anymore. The people who hurt me couldn't reach me here. I had that dream because after spending the past month hyperfixated on the present, I had been triggered into remembering one of the worst parts of my past, so now I was remembering the rest too. 'Sorry, Lyly.' The safety I had gained in this world was invaluable. I couldn't imagine going home willing. Based on how little light was getting through the curtains it was still the middle of the night. I was drained from my dream, and my hips were still aching but it took a while for my mind to calm back down. Tomorrow and the distractions that came from it couldn't come soon enough.

--- "Alright now, Mx. Prophet," the doctor gave me my diagnosis. Sinbad had him sent first thing in the morning, and his arrival woke me up. "You need to rest for a few days. I'll have painkillers sent over to help with your hip pain, fever, and migraine." With his job done, he saw himself out. 'I can't miss the Morning Assembly! ...But-!' I knew the doctor was right deep down. I was in no condition to do much of anything. I was fine resting when I didn't have obligations, but I had a job now. If I was back home I would have had to give Lyly my keys so I couldn't leave. Five years just wasn't enough to fully rewrite my base instincts. Although, from the new memories I was gaining, the me back home was doing a bit better. Those new memories were why I was healed and practiced enough to stop myself even if a doctor hadn't told me to... especially since I had a fever. As long as both me's kept whatever this connection was then maybe we would also keep the benefits from both sides. --- ~POV Sharrkon~ Mori was the only person that missed the morning Assembly. Yamuraiha had a growing smile throughout the meetings, and now that it ended she mumbled something to Pisti. Shar groaned; he knew where this was going. "Yup." Pisti giggled. "I heard from a reliable source," probably 1 of her boyfriends, "that Mori's not 'sick'. Her hips were injured and her body over worked last night." The King refused to look at the gossips. His silence spoke volumes compared to the past month of him adamantly defending that there was nothing special between him and 'his Beautiful Prophet.' "Oh ho~! It finally happened after I left!" Hina slapped Sharrkan on the back with a laugh. "Looks like the 2 of us have to pay up! But I guess you lost the most, huh?" "Oh, no! I ain't paying nothing! Nothing happened!!" Shar had a hurt ego to nurse and he would not let them step on it harder. "Mori got hurt dancing. Our King had nothing to do with it!" Sharrkon felt a shiver run down his spine that made him hold his tongue. Hina looked to the others for confirmation. "Is that true?" Drakon answered him. "It's true. However, it's also true that Sin carried Mori all the way to their room from the festival." "Oh~? That's proof enough for me." Drakon, Ja'far, Yam, and Pisti agreed with their own comments. The man in question still refused to comment, so Hinahoho addressed him directly. "You're really not going to say anything, Sin? After all of that time, telling us how you don't want to get married?" "Fine. Fine." King Sinbad finally turned to them with his arms crossed. "It's simple really. You know I'm not the type to reveal my hand until I'm certain." Sinbad was smiling, but Shar knew instinctually the King was the threat that told him to stop talking. The giant laughed. "Is that so?" "I know you're aware this is a first for me." Sharkkon's wallet cried with him. He had lost 2 out of 3 bets. It was only a matter of time before he lost the 3rd.

---- ~POV Mori~ The Great Bell rang out. The morning Assembly was definitely over. There were several things I had wanted to do today, and I couldn't do any of them since I had to rest. I needed to meet with Queen Artemina before she left Sindria. I had to solidify our connection as allies, but she was set to leave in a day. As I wrote a letter to send her, the waves shifted. This was the right choice for me, and the future I wanted. The letter would need time to dry before I could send it. I got up from my chair and stopped. I didn't want to lay down again yet no matter how much my body needed it. 'Damnit! How much more of my life am I going to spend sick??' I groaned into my hands. I was born with a weak raspatory system, so I get sick multiple times a year and often end up bedridden. "I am allowed to rest even though I can sit up and walk. Pushing will only make it worse." My mom eventually stopped acknowledging when I would get sick due to the expense which is why I struggle to let myself rest as an adult. I made a point of putting the truth into words to fight her conditioning. I climbed back in bed even though I knew that meant I would be stuck with just my thoughts until I fell back asleep. This was the perfect opportunity to process everything that had happened with Sinbad, but I couldn't think about it at all. Being triggered, recognizing these new memories, and that night terror just made me think about home more -well the place I came from. Even when I was in my room there I often couldn't help but think 'I want to go home' because even though it was comfortable and familiar, I couldn't feel safe. My last therapist told me that as long as I stayed in that house full of reminders there was only a slim chance of me recovering from my CPTSD. If only I could have afforded to move out.

In the new memories I got, our dad finally agreed to reorganize all of the living spaces, so that me and Lyly weren't getting as many flashbacks anymore. Hell, he even apologized for everything and started acting like a real dad some of the time. The me that stayed home was able to persevere until an opening for change finally came. 'If they got Isekai now I wonder if they would want to go home?' The thought had never occurred to this me -just like it never did back when I was in in-patient. Although I was still worried about Lyly like I was then. I rolled over to pull out a scroll from the bedside dressers. When I was on the ship I had worked on all sorts of scrolls and one was a memoir of my life back home. One of the first things I did was draw the people important to me before I'll inevitably forget their faces. I unrolled the scroll. Lyly's face stared up at me from the page. As difficult as that place was to live in all of my loved ones were there. In this world there was no one that knew me, and I wasn't sure if I could let my self get that close to anyone here -especially Sinbad. He already knew how deep some of the scars on my heart are. I didn't want him to think any less of me, or use my pain against me. And even more than that, I was scared that the safety I had here would shatter if I made a wrong step. 'I thought I was doing better.' This world had treated me so well that I fell into a false sense of security. Not being surrounded by reminders of my traumas made me feel like I was somehow cured and could restart from scratch. But that's not how healing works... Being away from triggers just made it easier to avoid having an attack. It's only after feeling safe that we let ourselves feel the emotions that are unsafe to feel in the moment. A few tears fell down my cheeks. I placed the scroll on the bedside table and rolled back towards the middle of the bed. Surely it was okay for me to cry in a situation like this. I allowed myself the luxury even though the tears didn't last long. When I was young I cried just as often from joy as sadness. The abuse I experienced made it unsafe to cry at all, so I learned to cry silently until I eventually stopped crying altogether. Being in this world made me feel like it was okay again. Letting myself actually feel these emotions was an important step in the healing process. Beating myself up for getting triggered and relapsing wouldn't help at all. I needed to forgive myself.

--- One day of rest should be enough, right? It's not like I still had a fever. I didn't want to stay in my room and make an even worse impression. My hips would hurt a little if I over worked them, but that would just act as a limiter. ((<<= This person is in denial))

I got dressed after breakfast, but as soon as I grabbed the doorknob I froze. "Yeah, no." I was not in the mood to see Sinbad in person yet, and I would have to if I left my room. As soon as I took Queen Sinbad's choker back off I felt a wave of relief. It had given me so much dopamine and serotonin when it was part of a fantasy, but now it was a reminder of my fears. How could I mark myself with it when I couldn't feel safe in my own desires? Wearing it felt like a lie. I definitely wouldn't be able to wear it for a while.

'Guess I haven't completely lost my sense of self-preservation.' Besides, I hadn't actually had time to do most of the things I like doing to relax since I got to this world. Going out in this state would be worse than not going out. Another day off as I recover from the stress had to be reasonable.

But what options did I have to relax?

Everyone else was busy with work at this time of day, so I could masturbate without having to worry about being interrupted. But my toybox didn't isekai with me; I only have my hands, and some ribbons for mild shibari. Sinbad said I could make requests, but there was no way in hell I was letting him find about this, let alone use his money for my sex toys. I'll figure out where to get some after payday. The night terror was still fresh in my memory anyway.

Video games, comics, and anime were obviously out of the question. Printing still isn't big enough for fiction to be popular to write -that's part of why Sinbad's Adventure story was such a huge success. I had 3 cats back home, but I can't exactly adopt a new pet while sick. I do sing a lot to relieve stress, but it would be embarrassing to be overheard without knowing. 'Note to self: get carpets to hang up to dampen the sound.' There were places I could go that would be harder to be heard but leaving wasn't an option until I was better. That only left me: writing and drawing.

'Working on Fate scrolls it is!'

The flow of ink was good for my brain. It did more than help calm me; it gave me more perspective but it couldn't give me true answers. 'I wish we could just go back to how things were before that night. How am I supposed to know when I will be ready to see Sinbad again?' He isn't any of the people that hurt me, so why can't I just like him without being afraid of betrayal?

Were Sinbad's actions manipulation, or earnest? Could I trust the safety I felt around him? It was definitely a combination of how he treated me, what I knew from reading his Fate, and how familiar I was with being around those types of manipulation. But there was something strange. When I looked for signs of his manipulation in how he dealt with me, or any expected fallout, nothing came from it. In fact, everything kept ending in my favor. The cycle I was expecting was coming from me, not Sinbad. The waves swirled as I finally let myself think about it.

What was he actually going to say when I cut him off? Even if it was what I thought, would I be able to believe him? Even if I didn't have relationship trauma I don't think I could trust him romantically after reading his Fate. He claimed he wasn't playing the flirting game, but that could have been manipulation. Was it my heart or pride that would be hurt more if he was lying? I couldn't tell yet.

I was lonely. Both in general, and in this world. There was no one that knew me here. And I was too scared to trust the person getting closest to my heart. Even though I didn't want to be seen like this, I didn't actually want to be alone; I just couldn't shake the fear of rejection or punishment I thought was inevitable. I left my windows open just in case. ---

~POV Sinbad~ The King sat on the edge of Mori's bed. He had been unable to visit the first time she was sick. Now that he understood his own feelings he couldn't stay away unless he was on the other side of the world. The only reason he didn't visit the first day was because he knew she needed space away from him. The waves had been trying to guide him here for a while though. Who was he to deny them? No one answered the door when he knocked or called out. The silence and waves worried him. The last report said her current fever was mild, but it could have spiked since then. Mori developed an extremely high fever on the ship several hours after everyone saw she was unwell. He entered without permission only to find his Beautiful Prophet was sleeping peacefully. He had gotten to see her; that would have to be enough. Mori turned her head in her sleep and her bangs fell onto her eye lashes. Sinbad leaned over to move her hair out of the way. He tried to keep his touch light to not wake her, but her eyes fluttered open. Unfocused eyes watched him. "Sin..?" The sound of their voice was a relief. It didn't sound strained at all, only weak from sleep.

"How are you feeling?" They weren't anywhere near as bad as last time. "~*yawn* Better now that I'm awake." "Oh? Did you have a bad dream?" They watched him as what he asked slowly processed in their newly conscious state. "Yeah, I did. Thank you for waking me." "Anytime." Sinbad returned their weak smile with his own. "I guess that's why it wasn't just my waves leading me here." He hesitated. "Mori, what do you think about moving into the Purple Leo Tower? It will be easier to care for you when you get sick. You'll be safer there. And your waves could reach me faster." The same fear from the other night started seeping into their expression. "I'm fine here." But he wasn't fine. "Besides, it will be harder when I have to move out of the Palace." For a moment he forgot how to breathe. "Why would you have to move out?" Why would she ever think she had to leave?? "Would you really be okay with me staying after my visions run out?" The King couldn't stop his hand from reaching to caress their cheek, but he was able to hold back from making contact. "Of course." Mori's brow creased farther and they glanced at his hand. "What about after I share all the knowledge I have from my world? I wasn't an engineer. I only know the basics." Sinbad's heart dropped. From the beginning Mori had been marketing herself as a resource, and he had only ever responded positively. Yet another way he'd messed up without even realizing it. "Of course, I'll still want you by my side." The more he was able to peer into Mori's heart the more worried he got. "You are a person, not a resource. You do know that, don't you?" Mori closed their eyes and leaned their head towards his hand; he took that as permission. Their cheek didn't feel feverish. They spoke flatly about their emotions like they did the night of the Announcement. "I know that logically, but I struggle with knowing how to act if I'm not helping someone." They brought a hand up to his. "I really do like helping people, but sometimes it feels like that's all I am. It's what I had to do to survive since I was little." Ah. He could understand that thought process. Sinbad had been a caregiver for his mother and village from a very young age, and went straight from that to king's candidate. There was very little time in his life when he wasn't working towards helping someone. Drinking, and philandering became his break from that -although he would hopefully be narrowing that last point to one person soon. "You seemed to do just fine at the festival." So fine that he couldn't deny his feelings anymore. "Huh? -Oh. Yeah. I guess I did." Her expression softened into a genuine smile. "It was probably going around the festival that got me sick though." It was mainly stress according to the doctors' report. Mori closed her eyes with a yawn. "I'll have to keep more distance between me and the citizens next time. I didn't realize I was so interesting." "You're incredibly interesting." They let out a quiet chuckle. "If you say so." Sinbad watched and felt as they turned their face into his palm, and sighed. Mori relaxed more into his hand with each breath as if his scent and touch were comforting. It bubbled up desires he knew he shouldn't act upon with a sick or unconscious person and yet he couldn't make himself leave either. He took a moment to ground himself but it did little good. He couldn't bring himself to leave until after Mori let go of his hand. To think another person would have this much power over him. "You really are amazing." There was absolutely no way he'd ever allow anyone else to see this side of them. Mori would be moved to the Purple Leo Tower in time, and would just have to learn through experience that he had no intentions of letting them go. ---

~POV Mori~ I woke up to the Great Bell the next morning. Sinbad being here was not a dream. I had just been too groggy to question the situation. What was the point of staying home, if he was going to visit me in person?

On the plus side, seeing Sinbad while I wasn't stuck in my trauma brain helped break the cycle of questions. Sinbad might be stubborn but through his whole life he is shown being someone fully willing to change his mind when given enough information. At this point in the story he is someone with conviction who says his truth directly -even if he often speaks in a manipulative way. So when he said he's chosen a new path, he meant it -even if I don't know what that means yet. And when he is shown seducing women, the idea of moving any of them into the Purple Leo Tower would never be considered, let alone offered -even in private. And yet he offered that to me.

Sinbad was changing and I'd never be able to accept how if I stayed cooped up in my room. To understand myself, and Sinbad I needed to spend more time around him. My rest was over. I didn't need to jump all the way in at once. I'd see him at the morning Assemblies, swap pleasantries, and part ways until the next day. 'Slow and steady.' --- ~POV Sinbad~ Was this how Hina and Drakon felt when they looked at their wives before they got together? Just seeing Mori enter the halls of the White Capricorn Tower made his heart swell. And hearing their voice? Well, he was starting to understand why Ja'far had been so upset with him since they returned from Balbadd. Even seeing Mori dressed androgynously didn't shake his feelings -though it was a bit jarring after how they dressed for the Announcement. It just cemented that what he felt wasn't simply based on how Mori presented. They were undeniably the most beautiful person in the world to him now.

After going through more options than necessary, the first thing the Dungeon Capturer managed to say to Mori was, "I'm happy to see you're feeling better."

"Yes. And thank you for visiting me while I was resting." Mori's smile made him feel at peace. Seeing them up close confirmed that they cut their bangs some. "But never enter my room without explicit permission again." Their sharper tone pierced him repeatedly with each sentence. "That includes the bird by the way. If my curtains are closed or I don't answer the door: don't enter my room."

He wore a smile to ease their anger. "Of course. It won't happen again."

Even as Mori accepted his response and left, the King couldn't get his heart to stop racing. Why did there have to be so many large risks of ruining his chances when he already knew she liked him from reading his Fate?

--- ~POV Mori~

As soon as the Assembly was over, I fled to the Black Libra Tower. 'He said he was happy I was better! AND he didn't say anything about about my change of gender expression!' Sinbad said all of two words directly to me and I started short circuiting. I remembered that he offered to move me to his tower -the one he sleeps in???- and immediately went on the defensive. I was not as ready as I thought!! I was going to need my favorite hyperfixation to survive the rollercoaster I was trapped on. And if it didn't exits yet, then I was going to reinvent it myself! It would be relatively easy to make a printing press since this fanfic was in English instead of whichever Arabic language was the region's canonical one, or Japanese like the series was originated in. Both require significantly more characters than English, and some kanji can be too intricate to make with this world's current level of technology. Speaking of which, this world had stamps and seals so this next level of printing shouldn't be too crazy of a change. I took some print making classes in high school and college, so I got to use a few different scale printing presses. I knew enough to draft prototypes. I excelled at typography in college too -so well that the department head signed off on me skipping a few courses so I could get to the high level stuff faster. The typography was digital, but I still learned enough to draft prototypes of stamps and such. ('A shame I couldn't afford higher than an Associates Degrees.) Since I was working on a table in the middle of one of the libraries, people came up to ask me about what I was doing. I gave a brief summary to the latest onlooker, before I pointed to the examples I was drafting. "I see." His voice was familiar but I was too focused to register it. The person moved around the table to read the part I had finished this morning. He made a few sounds of recognition as he read. "Won't spelling out each word every time be a hassle?" "Well, yeah. It's better to have most words premade. And full lines of text can be fused together to make reprinting more issues easier and faster." He pointed to a spot on the parchment. "Ah- that's what this part is then." My eyes were drawn to the glint of his rings. Every cell in my body remade itself as my brain finally acknowledged who was talking to me. "That is convenient." Sinbad's voice was unmistakable now that I was paying attention. I prayed to every God I knew of that my emotions didn't show in my actions or voice. "This might be a new technology here, but you won't have to completely reinvent the wheel thanks to my 'visions.'" I had to focus on my breathing to keep my heart rate down. I was able to keep the conversation moving, but I wasn't sure I would remember it well. I was more focused on not looking like an idiot. We had exchanged greetings at the morning assembly but this was the first time I was talking to him fully sober in days. His polite gestures and this conversation made my heart swell, but he wasn't flirting; he was just existing while being attractive. 'Why did I have to start thinking it could be mutual??? I can't even enjoy it like this!' If anything starts there's going to be an end.

--- ~POV Sinbad~ Sinbad didn't have a 'real' reason for visiting Mori in Black Libra Tower on their first day back, but, as King, there was no one who would question him. Although, Ja'far would come to get him if he's away from his responsibilities for too long. He arrived a bit after lunch to find Mori sitting at a table in the middle of the library where anyone could and did come talk to them. The proof being that they didn't beat an eye at his questions. In fact, it sounded like they had explained about this stamp system multiple times. Mori needed their own office in the tower. He'd make sure they got one asap. As interesting as this new technology was, Sinbad kept finding himself staring at his Beautiful Prophet more. It was hard enough to focus at his own desk -let alone when Mori was right in front of him. Sinbad had heard that acknowledging the feeling makes it stronger, but he wasn't expecting this. Mori tensed for a moment before scooting their chair away from him. He had been leaning closer to them without realizing, and they moved away. How was this the same person that fell asleep holding his hand the previous day? Were they just too tired back then to remember what was going on? Did they think it was a dream? He definitely shouldn't flirt with them while they were this uncomfortable to be around him. Would they even be willing to hold his arm while they walked together? He didn't think so. Sinbad took a moment to ground. Even if Mori had turned into a feral cat or wild rabbit around him, the way they watched him when they thought he wasn't looking was a sign that they wouldn't mind being tamed by him. They had enjoyed his company before; he just needed to remind them of that. The only question was if he could regain Mori's trust before he had to leave for the Kou Empire.

((OMGOSH I did not expect this to take this long. At least a month of that gap was from back-to-back illness too, so it took even longer. My digestive track turned off for 24 hours and took 48 to fully come back online. While I was in recovery I caught a really bad upper raspatory infection that gave me a 103F fever for a week. So of course my period hit me like a freight train a week later. Somehow I was ill the weeks around the holidays and not on them, but it was a still a super rough couple of weeks. I'm better now :D which is why I was able to have the energy to write.

I processed a lot of my emotions while working on these chapters. They're all things I already knew, but consolidating them like this helped me see more of the places they were affecting me, and cement in my head that it is okay to move forward. :D

This arc is 3 chapters long including this one. Since I do have the next 2 written already, I just need to refine them and make the art, so there shouldn't be as long as a break for the next chapter. Like this chapter, they will have scenes of Mori processing their emotions. I needed a lot of time to edit them down a ton since there's obviously things I don't intend to post on the internet, and I want the story to feel good to read chapter to chapter. I've already got the next arc started too. It's a lot of character confrontations that became discarded drafts of earlier arcs, but definitely need to happen now. Since I have those drafts as a basis, I hope to get that arc ready before I finish posting this one. I have another DeadEnd chapter to post, and a few one shots I almost have ready. I've been posting wips and art for for them on patreon, but I won't be posting them here until I have full chapters ready U-U))

[vampsquerade]

Ghost helping a male reader through a panic attack please🙏🙏🙏🙏

i will certainly try my best anon, thank you for requesting!! sorry it took me so long to get to this, i’ve had a lot of unnecessary and downright bullshit delays that caused me to hold back on writing as much as i do. also i hope you don’t mind but i did kind of tweak it a little and decided to use my own personal symptoms of PTSD (even tho the one i’ve been diagnosed with is a bit different)

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Ghost x Male!Reader: A Ghost’s Aid

Trigger Warnings: angst with a happy ending, PTSD, panic attacks, hyperventilation, uneasy feelings, traumatic memories

Life in and of itself is forever cruel. Countless years in which this cruelty has been seen and those most affected by it suffer its effects forever. Experiencing them yourself as your task force worked alongside the 141 and Los Vaqueros and previously with Shadow Company against Al-Qatala, you had developed a difficult reaction for certain situations that caused you to react too quickly. You would find yourself eventually with a diagnosis of PTSD after Graves’ betrayal as well as being separated from Johnny and Simon. Hours of the 24 hour cycle constantly passed within the 365 days of the year and you spent most of them awake out of fear of reliving that night in your dreams. Rainy days especially made it worse, often forcing you to stay inside until the storm was over and done with as you dealt with an episode on your own.

However, this time you would find yourself to be dealing with one in the presence of somebody else: Simon “Ghost” Riley. Though he wasn’t exactly the emotional type, you knew he still cared about everyone around him. You had just been hiding in a corner, hands clutching your head as you laid there panicking. “Y/N? What’s going on?” Simon asks, coming out of the room you were letting him stay in and into the living room where you were hiding. “F-Fuck…Simon please help me…” you whimper softly, hyperventilating terribly as you’re finally getting over that clearing. Grasping the situation a bit properly now, Simon then comes next to you and carefully sits you up and checks you all over for any wounds. He sees the bullet wounds you had gotten all that time ago, and gently grazes them with his fingers.

“It’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it?” Simon mumbles softly. He had begun to carefully and gently rub your back in a way to help you calm down. You simply nod, unable to form words as you continue to hyperventilate while attempting relaxation. It would take you an entire hour to finally calm your entire body down and regulate your breathing. “I’m sorry you had to see that…I wasn’t expecting rain…” you whisper. “It’s no worry, don’t apologize for anything related to your disorder. Anything you need right now?” Simon asks. “Wanna share a cuppa?” you ask. He gives you a nod accompanied with a slow blink before standing up. Simon obviously gives you a helping hand as well, helping you walk a little until you feel like you can on your own.

“Thank you…” you mumble, going and washing your hands before grabbing teacups and your teapot to transfer the boiling water into once it’s done. “So what’s in the cabinet then?” Simon asks as he takes a seat at your table. “I only have Earl Grey.” you say, opening the cabinet and grabbing the small box of authentic Earl Grey tea leaves. “I reckon I’m quite alright with that.” Simon says. Smiling a little, you nod and lean against your counter as you wait for the water to boil. “How often does any of that happen? The thrashing and hallucinations.” Simon asks out of genuine concern. “It happens when it’s raining the most and in my sleep, but that’s only sometimes…” you say, crossing your arms against your chest and sighing. “I see. You’ve got a prescription?” Simon asked again.

You pipe up a little, “Reminds me, I’ve gotta take a pill.” you say. “Have you eaten though? I know some medications require you to eat before you take them.” Simon says. “Yeah. I had already eaten beforehand though so I’ll be fine.” you say, walking back over to your cabinet and taking out your pills. You take one and sip some water from a water bottle you had around before going back to where you had been previously standing. The atmosphere of the kitchen grew a little tense, causing you to become unnerved and intimidated by Simon’s presence and intense gaze. “You’ve been suffering alone, haven’t you?” Simon suddenly asks, cutting the thick atmosphere.

Unable to look him in the eye, you just stand there and keep your gaze away from his own. “Look, I’m not the best with words and never have been—you can ask us for help.” Simon says. Though his voice doesn’t sound too reassuring, you know it is. Hell, the man guided both you and Johnny towards him once Graves betrayed you. It’s okay to trust Simon. “What if my panic attack gets really bad? That stuff was just mild—it’s so much worse.” you say. “Then let me help. It’s not like I haven’t saved your ass countless times; what’s so different about this?” Simon asks. “I don’t want to burden you.” you say, finally meeting Simon’s eyes. “Don’t give me that. I know you’d do the same for me.” he says. You stay silent for a moment, contemplating what he just said.

“You’re right…it’s just…I feel like I don’t deserve it. I knew the shit I was getting into and for fuck’s sake I thought I was going to die that night.” you say. “I helped save your ass then as well. Let me do it when we aren’t in the field. No protests, that’s an order.” Simon says sternly. “But-“ you pipe up only to be interrupted by the hardened man, “But nothing, I’m going to help you. Am I understood?” he says. You remain quiet, sighing softly as the tea kettle begins to whistle as it has reached completion of boiling the water. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer, Corporal L/N.” Simon says. “You’re understood…” you say as you take the kettle off the heat. “Atta boy.” Simon says.

The man then stands up and carefully takes the kettle from you, pouring the water into your teapot with the leaves to allow for it to steep. “What makes you want to help me?” you ask genuinely. “Don’t quite like seeing a teammate continue to potentially hurt themselves like this. I know it’s not your fault and you can’t help it, but you can always ask. No harm.” Simon says. “I see. Well cheers, Simon—I can’t really express how grateful I am that you want to help.” you say, lightly punching his shoulder. “It’s really nothing to thank me for. I’m just being a decent person—for once.” Simon says, rolling his eyes a bit and scoffing. You can’t help but smile, giving him a nod. It felt nice to have someone to rely on, even a scary dog like Simon.

[fair-dinkum-mechanic]

Perhaps will never truly recover from coming out to my homophobic family and risking everything for my first boyfriend when I was 24 after dating him from the age of 19, only for the relationship to turn exceedingly toxic and eventually full on abusive, to the point it drove me actually clinically insane and I was institutionalised for two weeks. Will never forgive myself for the terror I caused my loved ones. But will also never forget how the abuse continued on while I was in hospital and snide little comments were made about how I was putting it on to make him “seem like the bad guy” and when I sent my diagnosis booklet specifically for close ones to me he and who I considered a close friend at the time just said “don’t use this as an excuse lmao”

Then when things got ugly and I finally did accept the abusive relationship was over (abuse has a way of making you scared of the abuser leaving), he was spreading lies and slimy nasty jabs at me at how toxic I was. When he’d snaked in an turned me against my best friend at the time, causes irreparable damage to my bonds with others, and had thrown things at the walls, hit the cats, threatened to murder people I knew. Yet, someone I considered a friend despite them being on the other side of the world told me I needed to reign myself in and stop being bitchy because I had “the wrong information”

This person continues to insist that she can tell peoples true nature but consistently aligns herself with actual abusers and enables their behaviour and nullifies lived experiences of the people affected just because she doesn’t like their loud and unapologetic personalities.

I still suffer anxiety from that relationship, and friends aligning themselves with my abuser invalidates my experience or lessens it, and I can’t help but feel it’s because somehow they think I deserved it. Or was asking for it. Or I’m making it up as some sort of sick twisted revenge on these people. And then that makes me believe it. Maybe I did deserve it. Maybe I am making it up. Maybe it’s exactly what needed to happen to me. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Because if people who cared about me weren’t outraged it can’t have been that bad right?

And it’s no wonder I keep repeating the pattern. Because those beliefs have been instilled in me that I DESERVE to be abused. I deserve to not be believed, and I deserve to feel like it wasn’t that bad. I deserve to feel like the bad guy who got what was coming to him.

Because that’s exactly how I feel. And it’s how I’ve felt for years and it hugely affects my anxiety and self worth and it’s not some cute little thing that is a tragic trauma dump, it’s ugly and awful and has actually broken my mind for the rest of my life and every day I grieve for who I could’ve been.

[notjustanocdbrain]

anxious mind.

I was always described as an anxious child. I was always worried i'd get sick or die. I had my first anxiety attack when i was 9 years old. I didn't know what they were, all i knew was that i couldn't breathe.

Something was always wrong. My parents took me to so many specialists, but it's almost ironic that i got my official diagnosis at 24 years old. It's not only ironic, it's also heartbreaking and sad. I felt misunderstood most of my life and what's worse...i felt ignored and overlooked, because nobody took me seriously. I was just dramatic. What they didn't know or seemed to understand was the true fear and desperation i felt on a daily basis.

What if i die?

What i have some sort of an illness?

My eye felt weird. Am i going blind?

I can't breathe. Is it cancer? Pulmonary embolism?

This headache feels different. Am i having a stroke?

My brain was always like this, always working overtime and going into overdrive. I couldn't help it. It was (and still is) who i was. No child should ever think these thoughts. But i did. And nobody understood.

Today i am 24 years old and even though young, i feel this disorder has aged me in many ways. I¨ve been trough so many themes and fears, i probably couldn't count them on both hands. As i finally started to understand this incredibly vile and despicable illness that ocd is, i also understood a lot of my childhood behaviors and realized that ocd has really been with me since i gained conciousness.

I want to write my story here. To maybe help some of you and to help myself get my thoughts out there.

Be kind to yourself.

[compassionatereminders]

I just want to like, shout into the void at other mentally ill people about this thing bc I feel like no one else in my life Understands why this bothers me so much and I feel like at this point Im like. AM I MAKING A BIG DEAL ABOUT NOTHING?? I have this picture in my phone I come back to every so often that I took when I was 18 years old of a leaflet I got given by the NHS when I was diagnosed with BPD. And it was a heading that said this: "What happens to people with Borderline Personality Disorder?" And it had two bullet points. 1: "Living with severe BPD is mostly an awful experience." and 2: "Long term suicide risk is about 10%." That is the direct wording from the leaflet. When I mentioned to the psychiatrist that this felt unnecessary he just shrugged and went "Well it's true." I'm 24 years old now, I don't have the same psych and after 6 years of fighting I got the diagnosed removed this year. But I still think about this leaflet and I just get more angry. I get angry because I was eighteen and I was struggling with an incredibly severe illness and instead of help and reassurance I was told my life would be terrible and a lot of people like me die. And I have no idea how it went through the several layers of editing to make it into the hands of patients. And I still go to that same outpatients where I was given this, and the doctor who gave it to me still works there. And every time I see a young, clearly suffering teenager get called into his office I just want to scream because what if he's giving them literature that calls their chance of life awful? But I cannot do anything. And I am just at a loss at how I am meant to continue going here and act like that leaflet did not damage my young adulthood. And at this point Im like. Am I being ridiculous? Do I need to just calm down over it? Maybe other mentally ill people Get It but maybe I do just need to let go

No that approach does seem inappropriate to me. It makes sense to communicate that living with BPD can be hard and that it's valid and normal if you struggle, but saying that there's no hope for a good life if you have a certain diagnosis is counterproductive, toxic and plain wrong.

[reyesstrand]

How is no one (there’s probably someone(s), I can’t have seen every single post) talking about Owen in the background at the wedding during the dance scenes??? This man is looking at TK and Carlos with such repose, his son got married to the love of his life, his soulmate! He’s the happiest he’s ever seen him, and he got to experience it!! He dragged his son from NY to TX kicking and screaming to save his life not knowing if he himself would survive his cancer, but he survived and TK is okay now and he is married! He did it, they did it! I mean!!!!

oh anon i would LOVE to discuss this!!! and trust me jen @strandnreyes and i have definitely had a breakdown about this exact thing but i’d love nothing more to freak out about it here because!!! literally!!!! like no offence but can we discuss? this journey??

love prevailing and love enduring are truly the themes underlying this show, and it comes in so many forms, and most especially in this journey. this journey of a man finding out about a life-threatening diagnosis and finding his son in cardiac arrest within 24 hours, and supporting him and loving him and saving him in more ways than one. owen brought tk to a place where he could make that active choice to save himself and he did, and he found the love of his life along the way, the love of his life that was so unexpected but so unconditional, the love of his life that he ended up saving, too. owen gets to watch that love develop and watch his son(s) be happier than ever before even after all they’ve endured, and i’m so so happy that his biggest worry after getting his diagnosis—will i make it to the wedding?—was resolved and he was in fact able to go. i’m so happy that amid all the grief and loss tk and carlos found and love each other and owen gets to see his kid in this place. i’m so happy that carlos and owen have their own relationship that’s slowly blossomed and he gets to watch this kid love his kid so much, and be loved in return, and see them make each other whole. they almost didn’t make it—all of them, so many times—and for the camera to capture just that brief moment of owen sitting back knowing that his kids are okay….it’s just so beautiful to see. and tear-jerking, of course.

[yearofradicalselfbelief]

12/06/24

Did not mean to disappear, but life has been happening (as life has a way of doing) and I’m not too sure about this blog’s original goal. That’s not to say things aren’t going well! An exciting writing opportunity may or may not be on the horizon, but it’s largely out of my hands now and I’m very much just waiting and seeing, but otherwise life is just life-ing.

I did find out this year that there’s a strong chance that I’m neurodivergent – mostly after a friend who also is was like “listen, I have a hunch” and I did some research. I don’t have an official diagnosis, and seeking one out isn’t particularly realistic for me right now, but it definitely did shine a light on a lot of things that now make sense. And honestly? This discovery has been so good, but also something to sort of? Contend with? It’s been so nice to see a lot of what I previously considered my major flaws and realise there is an explanation for them, beyond “I’m a fucking idiot lolol” and all that. A quote I heard a lot at the start of my digging is that it’s a relief, because previously you live in a world of horses, built for horses, and you think “man, I’m such a shite horse” – and then you find out you’re actually a zebra, and a really good zebra, you’ve just previously been comparing yourself to something that is entirely different to you.

It's been a relief, in some ways, and it’s brought about a lot of forgiveness towards myself. But it’s also been really difficult. Especially the longer it sinks in, and the more used I get to the strong likelihood.

Previously, like a lot of neurodivergent women, I thought I just had bad social anxiety and depression, along with a hefty dose of C-PTSD (which I still do, it’s just rooted in something different to what I previously thought), which means that all of the symptoms were put into the perspective of something to be beaten and overcome. That if I just tried hard enough, I’d stop feeling so constantly painfully fucking awkward, I’d feel less lost in social situations, I’d suddenly gain some sort of charisma, a comfort in my own skin, nothing would hurt, everything would be golden. And realising this has uhhh…taken that possibility away.

In some ways, it’s a relief. Realising that it’s more of a feature than a bug – and that it’s an explanation for why I instantly click and feel comfortable with some people, while it takes more work with others (guess what I have in common with folk in the former camp) – does, to an extent, allow me to put down the sword and walk away from the battle. One that I didn’t have a hope in hell of winning. And in a way it’s good, because that acceptance does help me. It lets me sit in my discomfort and accept it, rather than making it worse by fighting it and seeing it as the symptom of some terrible mental illness that I need to conquer.

But…on the other hand I need to accept that it is just always going to be there, and that has been very difficult. Especially this week. I think it hit me properly this week. Because others sense it immediately – to the point where pretty much everybody knew this about me before I was ready to accept it, for better or worse. It’s what got me bullied throughout my school career, it’s what had the teachers asking my friends ‘is there something wrong with her?’ when that bullying was reported to them. It’s what had my mother despising me, because I wasn’t the social butterfly party animal northern lass of a daughter she’d envisaged. It’s what’s had people I previously considered close friends drunkenly making jabs about how painfully awkward I am, and how they wouldn’t want me around for important life events thanks to that.

And it’s just always going to be that way, isn’t it?

Sure, there are right crowds and right people, and there is a lot that I can probably thank this difference in me for. And I have to laugh that I’m discovering it at the same time I’m writing Here, Where Fire Grows, a fic where the OFC feels constantly othered and ostracised by people without being able to place why they immediately have her marked as different or less-than when she spends most of her time trying to blend in.

It's just a bit of a grieving process. Sure, I don’t need to fight the battle in overcoming this – because it can’t be overcome, and maybe it shouldn’t be overcome. I have a lot to thank it for. It leads me to finding people I do vibe with, I probably have it to thank for how obsessively I chase after my hobbies and skills, and my patron deity has an affinity for the outcasts, so maybe it’s even how he barrelled into my life. I would never want to change any of that. But it’s just accepting that this fabled day where I’m super socially savvy, charming and unawkward will never come. And I can’t lie, that does hurt a bit.

Sure, I’m a great zebra, but I am still living in a world made for horses. So I’m always going to be the awkward one, the one who needs to be explained before introduced, the one who’s only fun to hang out with if you’re willing to endure the awkward quietness the first few times before I get comfortable enough to not just go selectively mute. I’m always going to be the one who people see and immediately think there’s something not quite right, regardless of how much I’m probably internally panicking over trying to just seem fucking normal.

And honestly, the internet is a godsend. I’m so much better at communicating via text than speaking, because when I speak, I panic and I stutter, and unless I really concentrate, I’ll fuck up my sentences (not beating the awkward as fuck allegations, huh?) but then that adds extra panic, too, because I’ve made so many amazing friends online, and I die inside whenever one excitedly tells me they’re going to be coming through my city, because my first instant thought is “god, you’re going to be so fucking disappointed by how I am in person” – especially because in those cases, we don’t have time for the three hangouts before I manage to un-freeze enough to become who I actually am. And I can’t really bear the thought of that.

It’s just exhausting, if I’m being honest. And I do think finding acceptance will help me make strides forward, but even knowing that I don’t particularly have to fight the battle to be “normal” anymore, I feel like I’ve lost it once and for all now. I don’t want to be the one who constantly makes shit first impressions, or who has to apologise for being weird, or just apologise for existing in general, or who has to be explained before she’s introduced, or who thinks she has a really close friend only to be mocked for that awkwardness that she cannot help, and having that last bit happen enough that I’m in a constant state of waiting for it to happen with other, better friends, too.

People compliment me, and I’m just waiting for them to see the awkwardness and the differences, because surely they wouldn’t be giving those compliments if they’d noticed by now? Or if they have seen that and continue to actually hold me in some sort of high regard, I feel like I need to be fucking eternally grateful to them for being magnanimous enough to overlook my glaring flaws and other-ness in order to find one or two shreds that they kinda sorta like. Or hey, maybe they’re just lying and it’s all some cunning ruse. Very realistic and likely, right?

And people will love me anyway. Deep down, I know that. Whether it’s in spite of it, or because of it, they do and they will, but it’s so much harder for me to love myself while taking all of this in. I’m going through a bad bout of depression right now, and the overwhelming thought just utterly battering my skull is I don’t like anything about myself. Knowing that I am, to some extent, always going to be off-putting to people, always going to be laughed at or mocked for something that I can’t help and can’t even adequately cover up, and that I’m always going to feel like I’m living in a world where everybody else was given a map and a fully written guide on where to go, what to do, and how to act, when I wasn’t looking.

I’ll find my peace with it. As I said, a lot of this current feeling is just because I’m going through it with my depression right now. I’ve been the weird one all of my life, I’ll be the weird one for the rest of it. On a deeper level, I can find a lot about that to love. I wouldn’t want to blend in.  It’s just a grieving process, and I can’t skip straight to acceptance with this one.