#and when i was struggling with my own mental illness i stopped being able to look after other people

[astriiformes]

Me, gritting my teeth as I do my best to ignore the fact that I have been battling my own brain particularly intensely (a mental health crisis that is ongoing, due to life circumstances that cannot be changed) and the many other responsibilities that have been stressing me out as of late so I can instead throw myself into the middle of a complex, inflammatory conflict between two groups I care about that is threatening to have a horrific amount of emotional collateral in part due to the fact that no one else has been willing to step up as a mediator: Wow, just like in Pentiment

[pears-trinkets]

.

[fancy-brudgom]

being the vaguely mentally stable friend with oldest daughter syndrome is WILD. Like someone has a problem I will drop everything to make sure they're okay. I will make damn sure they have eaten and drank water. I would happily go to the ends of this earth for my partner or any of my friends but at the end of the day having to be responsible for another person is fucking exhausting. but I'll still wake up tomorrow and do it again

[inkskinned]

but they don't care about the burnout. everyone is burnt out, they tell me. who isn't burnt out!

the good news is they don't say depression is a choice as much anymore, but the symptoms for burn out and depression are so hand-in-hand that they are mirror images of each other. but depression is serious. you're not depressed, you're just whiny. they barely change the script - don't be lazy! burn out is for people with real problems. burn out can be resolved with some fun candles and a day off work. burn out only happens in adults - no kid can be burnt out, after all; they've barely even had a life to live!

do you have a roof over your head and a steady job? you're not burnt out. so what if every night you wake up with a panic attack frothing inside your chest. you're lucky your problems are small. get back into plants or into yoga. shut up about it.

rich people get burnt out and go to fancy places. they get burnt out in their fancy offices with their real-people problems. they get burnt out and hire an assistant to help them never burn out again. you don't have the money to burn out. you don't have the two weeks to recover in a local spa. the job you come back to will still be stressful and hard.

you find yourself often wondering - does nobody remember about the pandemic? it seems almost like a joke or a punchline. being burnt-out was okay "during" the pandemic. now that people are back to ignoring covid, burnout is just-an-excuse again.

you google how to know if it's seasonal affective disorder or burnout. you google how to know if it's anxiety or it's burnout from working. you google how to know if my depression is back or i'm burning out badly.

coming back from burnout just leaves you covered in ashes, not new growth. you struggle to get back basics, and then - you're just supposed to get back up and keep going. every day the amount of tasks you are able to do seems to dwindle even further - where does the time go? why is everything moving so-fast-and-yet-so-slow?

my therapist and i were talking about how many people had latent mental illnesses that were triggered by the pandemic. how depression can be environmental and situational. i am annoyingly logic-driven about my own recovery - i like to be sure i'm working on the "right" thing. i tell her i feel like i'm lying. that it just might be burnout, and i need to stop complaining. she asks me what words come to mind when i think of burning.

oh, i guess i see.

we casually ignore the violence of being left empty.

[juicedaloe]

Mithrun and brain damage

I'm not sure if anyone is interested in this, but I wanted to make a post talking about why I think that Mithrun has brain damage from a traumatic brain injury instead of him being a representation of other neurological disorders or mental illness. I'm not that involved in the dunmesh fandom so I don't know how common this headcanon is, though I've seen a few people mention it here and there.

This is just my own opinion so if you disagree then that's fine. Some of this is just speculation and I can't say what Kui's intentions were. This post isn't meant to be that serious. I just wanted to talk about it and hopefully inform about how brain damage can affect some people in a way that I hope is interesting and relevant.

This will be kind of long because I like to talk so it will be under the cut. Apologies for the length and how much I ramble. Feel free to give input especially if I got anything wrong or if this is too confusing.

Okay let's go

Traumatic brain injury (TBI) is incredibly complex. The long-term effects of a TBI include a wide array of symptoms. Each injury is different, and some people can completely recover rather quickly while others can become permanently disabled, even for seemingly "minor" injuries. What I'll cover here isn't a definitive representation of the experiences of all those who have long-term effects from TBI, nor do I speak for everyone with brain damage.

Here are some long term symptoms relevant to this post:

Alexithymia (inability to process and name emotions)

Inability to process and name physical perceptions

Mood swings and emotional regulation difficulties

Communication difficulties

Social impairment

Apathy about caring for oneself

Lack of motivation

Alexithymia and inability to process physical perceptions

This one is rather obvious. While Mithrun is shown to feel emotions and have physical sensations (for instance, describing his location when he gets lost in the dungeon as "a cold place"), he is also apathetic to how this affects him. This means that his physical and emotional perceptions are reduced in some way. He says that becoming lord of the dungeon will leave someone "empty", showing he is aware of his dulled emotional state.

A good example of this is can be seen here in a bonus comic where he doesn't give much of a reaction to burning his mouth on hot food.

(I love these two a lot, by the way. Pattadol is really under appreciated.)

He is also not able to recognize bodily signals, such as hunger or when he is tired. Despite collapsing from exhaustion and not eating for long periods of time, he still insists he is not tired or hungry.

Mood swings

Mood swings in combination with alexithymia can be an especially disorientating experience. Those who struggle to perceive their own emotions can still feel them even if they don't know how to recognize it.

Individuals with brain injuries often experience drastic mood swings, particularly anger. To those around them, they can appear to go from 0 to 100 in an instant.

This is more speculation/headcanon on my part, as the strongest emotion Mithrun has for most of his appearances is anger. However one could interpret this as being unrelated as he is seeking revenge for a traumatic experience.

Communication difficulties and social impairment

Not only can naming personal experiences be incredibly difficult with a brain injury, but other areas of communication are often affected as well.

Mithrun is not able to set boundaries for himself even if someone is doing something he would not actually want them to do, which can leave him in a vulnerable position.

People with brain injuries can sometimes have a paradoxical experience when it comes to communicating with others. They can go from being very quiet to speaking at length about one topic, seemingly without regard for the importance of each bit of information. (I see it like Newton's first law of motion. It is hard to start speaking and it can be just as hard to stop.)

I really like this aspect of Mithrun's characterization. Usually, he is very quiet because he has no reason to speak. However, once he starts talking he is shown to be overly specific and goes on for long periods of time. Kabru has to spend multiple days figuring out his story.

In a side comic, Kabru tells Mithrun he should condense some of the personal details that Kabru finds irrelevant to the topic of the dungeon.

Mithrun shares many details about himself because his desire not to do so is gone. This mirrors the experience of many people who have brain damage to overshare and not understand how their words will come across to others. Sometimes they say or do things that are insensitive or inappropriate for the situation.

Caring for oneself and motivation

In the dungeon, Mithrun becomes reliant on others for self care. He also seems especially incapable of motivating himself to take care of his body when he is particularly focused on his goals.

In these panels, thus far he had been fairly receptive of Kabru trying to take care of him. However, he could sense that the demon was close and was too focused on that to care to eat.

Refusal of care and treatment is often an effect of traumatic brain injury. This can be for seemingly no reason, even if the person knows that this will help them. Sometimes people will lie about receiving treatment or doing things to take care of themselves, either so they can avoid it or avoid having someone take care of them.

He knows that eating regularly and not pushing himself too much will help him - he's been told multiple times on-screen - but he still has to be continuously told by others to give him that motivation to take care of himself. He's very apathetic to his physical state, even if it seems his only desire is for revenge and he should be doing anything he can to achieve that.

Other things of note

I wasn't sure where to put this, but while Mithrun's sense of direction is speculated by Kabru to be left over from his time as lord of an ever-changing, confusing dungeon, having poor sense of direction in the way he does could also be indicative of brain injury as well.

While the dungeon is confusing and illogical, he is known to have a poor sense of direction and to get frequently lost by those around him, even trying to exit an entrance he just came through. He is shown to be very intelligent, but memory is greatly impacted by brain injuries which affects a person's sense of direction and location.

Something that really stands out to me about Mithrun is how much the things that help him are particularly helpful to those with brain damage. He is physically capable of performing tasks, but he needs an outside source to remind him and get him started. He relies entirely on routine, and when that regularity is taken away he shows extreme difficulty taking care of himself.

Sometimes, the care that some people need is simply someone else to encourage them or to tell them when to do things. The care that he needs is pretty consistent with a person with a brain injury who does not need a full time caretaker and would prefer to have some independence.

Also, healing magic is specified to not work with brain injury unless the person is killed and revived. Mithrun had not been revived after his injuries, so it is entirely possible for him to have sustained a TBI. I don't think this matters that much because one is still allowed to have headcanons even if there is a magical explanation or isn't really possible in canon, but I thought it was an interesting detail.

In conclusion

Because of all this I don't believe that his lack of self care is due solely to mental illness. While mental illnesses like depression or PTSD can cause a decline in self care, the reasons why the affected individual is avoidant of these tasks differs. These disorders can also cause cognitive difficulties and emotional regulation issues, but not to the same extent or in the same way that brain damage would. I think that he does have both depression and PTSD (both are common after a TBI) but those are not his only disabilities.

And on a personal note, I just think that having a character with brain damage is really cool. Most of the time I've seen it the characters are not given very much respect and they are treated as comic relief and a joke. Regardless of whether you agree with this post or not, it is still nice to see a character with a disability like this.

Thank you if you read all of this. I hope it was easy to understand and I did not ramble too much. I don't have anything else to say but I've been wanting to write this out for a while.

Okay bye

[eddies-house]

TW: mentions of bad mental health

im imagining eddie being absolutley taken back when he finds out how people have previously treated you resulting in hesitation when being vulnerable with him.

and he's been through some shit, he's not exactly one to be voluntarily vulnerable either but with the tables turned it's like a moment of oh. like you're hiding from him, muddling your own emotions as a means to keep the peace.

he realizes that coming in strong, asking "what's wrong?" almost too oboxiously like he's previously done, only chases you further into your mind, it only insinuates that there are consquences if you were to answer so rather than being met with honesty, it's always "nothing" followed by forced smiles and sucked back tears that he's regrettably brushed off in those moments, trying to keep you comfortable. but while his intention to ease your chaotic mind by simply moving on had no ill intent, he soon recognizes the harm its caused and the pattern he's assisted in creating.

realizes he takes it far too personal when you shut down on those particularily bad days, thinks it's cause of him, only to contribute to the self destruction taking place in your mind when he continuously begs the questions "what's wrong?" "what do you want me to do?" "what can I do?" "come on, tell me what's wrong". he never understood that he was never the issue but he quickly made himself into one by nearly berating and prodding you with his questions. and then one day he sees it. sees the way your eyes go dull when he asks.

sees the front you put on, "everything's okay" while your lip wobbles. he doesn't take it personal this time, there's nothing distracting him from the obvious signs, the symptoms of broken hearted individual struggling to keep up despite the aches and pains that linger within. its a heartbreak he's so familiar with yet seems to be so blind to in others, thinking he's the only one to experience it, not selfishly but hopefully. so he straightens up and silently tells himself to quit all of his bitching because this is bigger than him, it's not because of him. you need him and he's been too insecure to think that maybe words aren't required, not by you anyway. there is no quick fix, no remedy to just stop the pain like popping an ibprofen or slapping on a bandaid, it just is. raw pain and vulnerability that should be allowed to be felt, not cured.

so this time, he recognizes the wall you put up, just like every other time though it was previously ignored. before he can even say anything, he knows you're anticipating his bombarding questions that have no answer. sees the way you tense up, the slight panic in the way your fingers tremble at the prospect of being figured out. except this time he speaks softly, a shake in his voice because he's terrifed to scare you off once again. says "i love you" then gently wraps you up in his arms, provides a barrier between you and the world you're at war with.

holds you on the kitchen floor, face pressed to his chest with a mixture of tears and snot.

runs his fingers down your spine delicately.

whispers "it's okay" when he knows it is in fact not, only hoping you're able to decipher that he means it's okay that you're not okay, it's okay that it's 1AM and while the world is asleep you're both tangled up on top of crumbs and possible neglected coffee stains

apologizes.

because for all those times you've coaxed him through an unwarranted episode, he's been neglecting you at your worst. not on purpose but it's neglect nontheless. and he knows all about it.

sings under his breath when the sobs have stopped wreaking havoc on your body. quiet hums of a familiar song, you are my sunshine.

tucks you into bed, makes you a late night snack cause he knows your appetite fails you in times like these, kisses your forehead and threads his fingers through your hair.

he's not perfect nor has he ever desired being held to such a high standard. but for you he wants to try.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for blocking my business partner and our mutual friends?

First of all, I want to establish that I'm not an idiot. I don't think I'm the smartest person in the world, I didn't do very well in school, and I'm generally a bit forgetful. I've been struggling with undiagnosed mental illness and neurodivergency for my entire life. My family growing up was very anti therapy and I've only recently brought anything up to a doctor. However, I like to think I manage myself pretty well. I have my own systems for doing things, and they may be unconventional, but it works. I've come to terms with the fact that no matter what I do, I'm going to have to work a lot harder than the average person and get a lot less credit. That's just how it is. I have two jobs, one of which is at a restaurant, and the other is a business that I started with my friend. It's still fairly small and local, but I'm really proud of how far it's come.

Me and my business partner, we'll call her Shelly, have a group of friends that we hang out with from time to time. I honestly don't like them very much, but Shelly, who has been my best friend for over a decade really enjoys hanging out with them, so though I've expressed to her that I want to start seeing them less, I've stayed friends with them, both to make Shelly happy and to avoid any drama that might be caused.

Among this group of friends is someone we'll call Dianne. Dianne will insult and berate me consistently, and then insist it was a joke. Nobody has ever laughed, and I have told Dianne that I don't find any of it funny. The other members of the friend group (aside from Shelly) said that this is just how she expresses that she likes somebody, and tried to make it seem like playful banter, but the insults are incredibly one-sided (I've never said an ill word about her to any of them, and especially not to her. I'm not rude.) and she never insults anyone but me and sometimes Shelly.

Recently ( a couple months or so ago) she started taking digs at my intelligence, as I have been a few minutes late to a couple of our hangouts, and I have trouble with my left and right. I said explicitly that I don't like it when people treat me like an idiot. I tried to be polite, but I won't stand for that. Also, being late and directions are very common things for people to struggle with, so I don't understand why that insinuates that I'm at all unintelligent. She also may have gotten this idea because I don't tend to laugh at her jokes, which are mostly things like "that's what she said" and other cheap and immature sex jokes. She usually tries to brush off the fact that I don't laugh by saying I must be dumb because I don't get her jokes. I do, they're just not very clever and I clearly have a different sense of humor than her.

I just kept trying to avoid any sort of conflict, because the rest of the group makes Shelly really happy. But then it started to get worse. The whole group seemed to be influenced by these jokes, and stopped expecting me to be able to do anything. I wasn't even the designated driver anymore, even though I'm usually the obvious choice because I don't drink. Dianne told me I'd probably crash because she didn't think I could read street signs. I've driven her home multiple times (during none of which she's been sober enough to remember my driving ability) and I've never driven at all irresponsibly while any of them were in the car. The whole group, aside from Shelly, began making jokes about how I was the resident airhead. For my birthday, Dianne got me a toddler sippy cup, and a card that said "Congrats, you're 2!". Get it. Because I'm so stupid I'm basically a child. Ha ha. So funny I forgot to laugh.

The last straw for me was when Shelly sent me a business email that was like "Are you going to be able to get the books done in time?" and basically told me to make sure I wasn't lazy when it came to keeping track of the sales, even though I've never been late with that kind of stuff. I really care about our business, and I keep track of all of the financials and do our taxes. I don't have a degree or anything, I could never afford college, so I emailed Shelly back very passive-agressively about how if she doesn't think I can do it in time, she can hire a real accountant.

We met with the friendgroup the next day and I was incredibly pissed. Dianne made another dig at me, something about our business probably going under because I'm too incompetent to do anything. I snapped. In the midst of yelling at her, I said "I am not stupid. You don't get to treat me like I am." and she said "But aren't you, though?" and I stormed out. I blocked everyone, except for Shelly.

I texted Shelly and said that she could be friends with whoever she wants, but that I'm never speaking to any of them ever again. Shelly said that I was being overdramatic, and that they're all being awkward to her now because they know that we're such good friends. I apologized for putting her in a position where she felt like she was in the middle, but told her that I was not about to take any more of that treatment. I told her I'm disappointed that after all this time, she let other people dictate the way that she sees me. When her new friends call me stupid, I can let it slide off of my back, but when my best friend of over a decade starts treating me like I'm incompetent and I can't get anything done, that really hurts. She told me that I need to learn to take a joke. I blocked her too after that. We've continued having meetings and being mostly civil, but we haven't spoken outside of that, and all the friendship is gone.

I'm mostly concerned about how this situation is going to affect our business, because I have worked so hard and I'd hate to see it fail because of petty drama and insults. I'm now feeling like I made a huge mistake by blowing up. Should I have just kept quiet to protect my job and friendship?

What are these acronyms?

[justmeinadaze]

"I'm Just a F**ked Up Girl Looking For Her Own Peace of Mind"

I'm currently experience this and struggling with it so I wrote a little thing here. *sighs*

TW: Mental health (anxiety and depression), child abuse, mentions of suicidal thoughts. Reader has a breakdown and the guys help her through.

Eddie firmly barreled open the front door as he powerwalked into the house. Steve had texted those two words he dreaded every time he got a text from the former jock. 

“Bad day.”

When they started dating you, you told them about your past. About the hospital stay and medication… the depressive lows and manic anxiety episodes… the thoughts that pushed through your head from time to time even though your life was so much better now than where it had been. 

“I’m not…easy…to be with.”

“That’s ok, honey, neither are we.”

You three had laughed at that at the time. 

The first time they experienced it broke their hearts for you. People always mentioned “feeling depressed” or “oh I’m so anxious about this thing!” but they discovered the true meaning of those words during your first break in front of them.

They hadn’t moved in with you yet so you were able to hide the fact that you hadn’t been sleeping. Your mind constantly reminding you of things that needed to be done and how you were a failure for not doing them. Nightmares plagued your dreams at all hours so you just gave up, scrolling through your phone instead as the mental illness continued to whisper.

“Do better. You’re lazy. May as well just get it over with and end the burden you put on people.”

That following evening you had a date night with them at their place and you couldn’t cancel. You genuinely wanted to see them but you were so tired…

“A good girlfriend goes out on dates. Go ahead. Cancel. Let’s see how quick they leave you for someone better.”

Through the first half of the movie they put on, your leg never stopped moving. Steve watched as your eyes never stayed focus in one place. Eddie felt your erratic energy radiate off you as you switched from holding his hand to letting go every few minutes. 

“Baby? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah.”, you responded a bit too enthusiastically. “Yeah, Ed, I’m fine. I’m just…I’m just a bit tired. It’s ok. I’ll get over it.”

Steve paused the film and as his hand petted your head you broke down. 

“I’m sorry. Fuck! Why can’t I be normal?! I’m ruining everything. You should just leave me and find someone better.”

“Hey, hey. No. Sweetheart, no one is better than you.”

“Talk to us, honey. What’s going on?”

You sobbed as you told them what had been happening over the last few days. The listened intently, comforting you anyway they could think of in that moment. 

“They don’t go away, Steve. Those thoughts never go away. Most days I can manage them but they are always there. W-Who can I tell? If I tell a therapist or a doctor they will put me back in the hospital even though I’m not going to do anything… I can’t tell my friends because I feel like I’m burdening them or they just don’t care. I can’t tell people in general because then I’m being ‘overdramatic’. I can’t take time to heal because I’m supposed to ‘suck it up’. So I do… Eddie, I want my brain to just stop telling me I want to die because I really don’t. Some days, though, on bad days…it’s so loud…”

The metalhead yanked you to his chest as you cried, crying with you as he tightened his grip as if he could squeeze all your broken pieces back together. He’d give anything to take your pain away, they both would. 

Today was a manic day and Steve picked up on it fast. Today was his day off and as soon as you woke up, you barely said a word. He asked you if you wanted breakfast and you shot him an angry look as you walked away. Turning on the tv, he put on the game but after a few minutes you came around the corner snapping at him to turn the noise down. Even when he muted the sound, he could hear you growling and swearing under your breath as you moved around the bedroom. 

Other people would see it as you being a brat; causing drama for the sake of drama. 

You wished you could make the world understand that was the opposite of what you wanted. In an episode like this everything was just…amplified…and for some reason your brain insisted it was on purpose. Steve was purposely turning up the volume to get under skin. The birds chirping outside knew you were on the edge so they gathered outside your window with intent. Even the clock on the bed side table was mocking you. 

Both men tried to handle days like this by themselves but when it got to a certain point, they knew they needed to come together to help you. That point came when you abruptly screamed and threw something hard against the wall. 

When Eddie entered the bedroom, Steve was off to the side watching you as you angrily paced, fluttering your fingers with eyes squeezed tightly closed. 

“What happened?”

Your eyes open at the sound of his voice as you shrugged and threw your hands in the air. 

“What happened? What the fuck happened?! Oh, I don’t know. Where do we start, Eddie?! This house is a fucking mess. I tell you guys all the time I need fucking help! I’m not a maid! I’m your girlfriend! But who fucking cares right?! We can just live in trash and be unhappy!”

They knew better than to respond. Before you three moved in together, you had suggested they come to therapy with you and they were surprised with some of the things they learned. They and even you knew they were more than accommodating when it came to housework and splitting household chores. When you were growing up, however, it was never enough.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, look at this mess! Did you do anything today?!”

Little you looked around at the immaculate living room wondering what else you could have missed. 

“I work and I slave all day at a job I hate so you can have food and a roof! The least you could do is fucking get off your ass and clean a bit!”

“I-I’m sorry, mama.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just do your job! We’re a team remember? I need you to pull your weight.”

They could almost see interactions like that replaying through your eyes and it killed them. They also saw how fast the logic brain took over as you realized what you were doing before the depressive brain abruptly took over.

“I’m sorry. I-I don’t mean to… I know I’m being crazy…I just…” You lean your back against the wall and slide to the floor with your hands over your ears. 

Both men descend with you, crawling closer to you and as soon as Steve’s hand touches your bicep you head shoots up with eyes full of tears. 

“I’m sorry. You two don’t deserve this. I’m a terrible girlfriend.”

“No, baby, you’re not terrible. Everything’s ok.”

“I-I-I appreciate…e-e-every…everything you guys do. Fuck. Everything is so loud, Eddie. I can’t… I couldn’t…I just wanted to scream…”

“Then scream.” You laughed at his response as you wiped your eyes but he insisted. “I’m serious, sweetheart. Just let go.”

“What about…about the neighbors?”

“Like they don’t get an earful almost every night.”, he jokes, grinning when you laugh again. “Go ahead. Just lean back and let loose.”

You roll your eyes as you do what he says but it’s a small shout that barely echoes in the room. 

“Wow. That was both adorable and pathetic. Come on now. Steve, why don’t you try?”

Chuckling, he struggles to stop smiling making you giggle harder before finally closing his eyes and letting out a good scream that makes the metalhead clap. 

“That’s the king of Hawkins right there! Now try again princess.”

Sighing at his antics, you do as he says actually letting go while they scrunch their face and cover their ears. 

“Woo! That was like Banshee from X-Men! Way to go!”

“What about you, nerd?”, you ask as he smirks.

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate as he leans his head back and howls loudly like a wolf. 

“I love you both.”, you softly grin as you reach for both boy’s hands. “I’m sorry for being…me.”

Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, Steve tilts you closer to him and kisses the top of your head. 

“Don’t ever apologize for being you, honey. We love you. Every part of you.”

“We know everyday you’re trying, baby. Unlike your mother who insists on being an evil little gremlin.” You giggle at Eddie’s interpretation. “Like your wizard of a therapist said, healing takes time and we’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Jesus, Munson, you ARE a nerd.”, Steve jests. “But the other stuff he said I agree with.”

“Oh please! Tell me her doctor doesn’t sound like Gandalf from time to time.”

“I still have no idea who that is.”

After rising to his feet, the metalhead grabs your hands and pulls you off the floor. 

“Well, I know what we’re doing tonight.”, he announces with a mischievous smirk before kissing your lips and running back towards the living room. 

“I’ll make dinner.”, Steve murmurs as he leans down to kiss your lips as well. 

“Oh, you know he won’t allow that. He’s going to want you in front of the tv so you don’t miss anything.”

“True. Hm. How about Enzos delivered?”

When you nod, he caresses your cheek before disappearing after his friend. 

As your eyes glance around the room again everything seems different than it did before. Instead of seeing a mess ridden, dark empty area, you saw a bright room filled with memories of the men you loved making you laugh and feel loved unconditionally. 

“But for how long? It’s only a matter of time.”

“No, it’s not.”, you whisper. 

Taking a deep breath, you head towards the living room where Eddie and Steve greet you with a comforting smile. 

[sweatervest-obsessed]

To Make Sure I Stay Sane

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~4k

TW: Blood, Torture, swearing, guns, police, violence, knives, trauma, slight ptsd but horrible coping mechanisms, mental illness, depression, ANGST.

A/N: I'm picturing season 4 Spence but y'all can picture whichever one you want. Inspired by Six Below by Flipturn! I thought y'all deserved an extra Spencer bit since I made you wait so long for the last one. A sweet treat if you will. Enjoy babes!!

I am a man on the run Running on two empty lungs Running from my own mind And things I hide inside Some call it sweet temptation

Only a handful of people get the extreme privilege of having their cover blown by the FBI, specifically the BAU, and even more specifically, Derek Fucking Morgan. 

If he had followed orders, and kept his mouth in line, then maybe this would have turned out better, maybe you’d be back in your house, checked in with your handler, and able to sleep for another night. But no. He pulls you over in the middle of the bar you worked at, and regardless of how hard you tried to get away from him, your efforts were ignored. He then ambushed you in the parking lot, trying to get you to listen. Talking to a fed could get you killed, and you were about to face that fear.

Freezers are quite comfortable when you’ve worked in the restaurant industry for long enough, but something about the way the mold perfumed the air in this one really seemed to bug the shit out of you. 

You had been trying to keep track–maybe 36 hours— of how long you had been tied to this chair. You’ve only seen three people, but considering you had seen so many places struggling for able bodies, having three goons to rotate watch on someone was very impressive to you. If you weren’t tied to the chair, and not an undercover fed, and it was a different life, maybe that third one would have been your type. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the freezer squeaking open, and a woman walked in.

“Safya…”

“Alice.” She nodded, pulling up a chair across from you. The slightly attractive goon left the room, closing the freezer door behind him.

“You know why you’re here…”

You shook your head. “No I–”

“--I’ll let you know when you can speak and defend yourself, yes?”

You nodded and she continued. “Now. I was told you had been speaking to the same FBI agent who’s been pushing doors open that should stay closed. Is this true?”

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“And what did he ask you?”

“About y-you, and about what you and I-I had been, um, doing together.” You licked your lips, trying to speed up your breathing–maybe you should have become an actress, and then all of this could be stopped with a simple shout from a director hiding behind some hidden cameras. 

“And what did you say exactly?” The gun on her thigh flashed as she leaned forward, catching the reflection of the singular light. 

“I told him I only knew you as a customer.” You looked at her, telling the honest to god truth. “That you we-were one of my regulars, and that was it. W-whatever your business is, is-is-isn’t my business.” 

She nodded. “Good good. It’s such a shame really…”

Your eyes widened. “W-what?” 

“Because I know you’re telling the truth. But if he was suspecting you, that means I have to let you go…” 

“Saf please, I-I-I’ll keep my mouth shut, I-’ll Never–”

“Stop.” You closed your mouth, panicking outwardly as you internally tried to come up with some sort of escape plan, or at least some way to tell your cat how much you were going to miss him. “You have three hours once I let you go, to disappear. Understood? If I so much as hear that you’re back, it’s over. Clear?” 

You nodded, suddenly formulating a completely different plan. If she watched you get into an unmarked van when you got out, you’d be fucked, completely. And you’d be jeopardizing the mission. 

So now, instead of getting to do your job, you had to change everything about yourself, and go into hiding without letting anyone know for at least a month, doing your best to let the investigation continue without you.

So that’s what you did. Packed up everything into a small suitcase, gave your cat of three years to the girl on the corner, and picked up your last paycheck, before disappearing to god knows where. Running away.  

Sometimes I don't trust myself Cameras on old empty shelves I live inside my brain To make sure I stay sane Good God, I think I need help

You had been fine, really, a month in some small town in the middle of Georgia, nowhere really. You had never been there before, but truthfully it was very peaceful, and across the country from your assignment. You had been there for only a month before Derek Morgan showed up at your door. 

You were in biker shorts, a large sweater for a top–very Princess Diana of you. It was slightly colder, since it was now March, but you weren’t up in the mountains, allowing you to have some sort of reprieve from the freezing winters you used to live with. 

Opening the door made you mad. You were glaring at him, and a man who seemed to be his partner. 

“You need to leave. Now.” You tried to slam the door, but Derek was quicker than you were, pushing the door open causing you to stumble back. Once the two of them were in your house, you quickly shut the door. The blinds and windows were never opened anyways, and the entrances and exits were all locked, save for the front door. 

“Listen here you motherfucker. Do you know how much you’ve ruined my life?! Because I could fucking tear you apart with my bare tee–”

“Woah, woah, calm down there Agent.”

His partner watched as you flinched at the title, having not heard it in over a month. 

“I don’t think you understand. If I’m seen with you here, I’m dead. Three years of my life, down the drain because you couldn’t take no for an answer. Not very consentual of you Derek. Get out of my house.”

His partner spoke up. “Don’t you want to know why we’re here?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“I’m sorry Agent Morgan blew your cover.” said the skinnier of the two, but you didn’t look at him, still glaring at the Agent in question. 

“Thank you so much. That makes everything sooo much better.” 

“We want to put you in protective custody.” 

That got you to tear your eyes away from Derek and look at the other agent. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“I-I-I’m Doctor Spencer, uh, Reid.” You raised an eyebrow, curious about his sudden stutter, his sudden nervousness. 

“What, are you not sure?” 

“N-No–Yes, I mean.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something about flustering Doctor Reid made him seem incredibly endearing, almost cute. But if this was some other life, you meeting him could have been different and under much better circumstances.

“I’m sure that’s my name.” He mumbled, causing Derek to snort at Reid’s inability to look at you again. 

“You think that’s funny Derek? Ruining other people’s day to feel tough?” You crossed your arms, lips pursed, ready to deck this guy in the face. 

“Okay sweetheart—”

Before he could finish even his thought, you had him pinned down on the ground: face down, ass up. His arm was out straight behind him while you had a death grip on his wrist. Your knee was on his back, holding him in place as you whispered in his ear. “Call me sweetheart again and I won’t stop at just the arm lock. We clear?” 

Derek let out a groan and tried to shift under you, but you dug your knee a little further into the point between his shoulder blades. “What was that Agent Morgan?” 

“yes–Yes! Okay, jesus.” He grumbled, sighing in relief as you got off of him, looking over at Spencer. 

“Would you like something to drink, Doctor Reid? I have tea or coffee…water?” 

Spencer was simply dazed with the way you switched between agent and yourself, it was surely some skill you had to pick up while being in deep cover for three years. 

“Spencer?” 

“Y-Yes, sorry. Water would, uh, water would be good. Thank you.” 

That’s when you killed him, stopping his heart in one simple motion. 

It wasn’t even a full one, but the corner of your mouth lifted up, providing him with a glimpse of a genuine smile, a crack in the stone cold facade you placed to protect yourself. He smiled back as Derek got up, rubbing his wrist and grumbling in pain. 

“I assume you like black coffee Agent Morgan.” you called from the kitchen, to which all you got was a grumbled “yes, please.” followed by what seemed like a laugh from Reid. 

Spencer looked around the bare walls, the bare furniture. There were pictures around, sure, but they were of places you had visited, or at least pretended to. There was only one photo frame with a picture of yourself, and based on the edges, he could tell it was folded. From far away it seemed to be just a picture of you; your family hiding in plain sight. 

He picked up the image and tried to determine how old you were. All he knew was that this photo was taken at some sort of wedding. You were laughing, smiling, dancing. 

“I don’t know why I keep that picture anymore.” You spoke softly from the kitchen doorway. “Maybe it’s to remind me that I’m not just an echo of who I was before cover, ya know? I feel like I have to close her off sometimes.” You placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of Derek, along with a packet of sugar. (Derek was astonished that you had managed to deduce that about him). You also placed Spencer’s water down on the coffee table, sitting on the ottoman that was in front of the couch. “Sometimes I don’t trust myself. Feel like I have to keep her with me to make sure I stay sane. Like I constantly have to remind myself that I’m doing this bullshit for a reason.”

“That’s why we’re here.” 

You nodded at Derek, flashing a quick, but hard, smile in his direction. 

“You mentioned Witness Protection?” 

But they say: "oh to be young" Innocent of what's to come

Witness Protection felt like a fucking joke. They had moved you to D.C. so that your favorite, and least favorite, FBI Agents could keep an eye on you. They would check in periodically, calling you from across the same park, walking past you on the street, it was bullshit really. And they had these two idiot, beat cops staying outside of your house each night, with a second undercover bodyguard who followed you around no matter where you went. 

Suddenly you were more paranoid than before because now you knew people were watching you. Just because they claimed to be the good guys didn’t ease any sort of panic you felt. 

Good was subjective. Good for who?

But It was lonely. You were bored. 

You were young. You were hot. You wanted to go out. 

Obviously this was immediately vetoed by your favorite FBI agent, who was no longer your favorite at the moment. 

“You’re ridiculous if you think you’re losing your tail and sneaking off to a club. That is so unsafe Y/N. Do you even know how many people get kidnapped from clubs, especially women? It’s the perfect hunting grounds for rapists and killers and—”

“So come with me.” You bit the side of your cheek, trying not to smile too heavily at yourself in the mirror as you continued to fix up your hair. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not? You get to personally guarantee my safety, plus, you don’t have to drink. You can just be my chaperone. Please Spencer! I haven’t been allowed to go out for the past three and a half years.” 

You continued on when he started to protest again. “I’m going out Spence. Whether you come is completely up to you.” 

You took his prolonged silence as a victory. “Pick me up at 9 then Lover Boy.” You went to hang up the phone before quickly throwing in a “No sweater vests!”

Oh, to be beautiful, each mistake excusable Give into sweet temptation

Somewhere in between the phone calls and the quick brushes past one another, you had fallen for Spencer. The attention to detail, the way he knew everything under the sun and yet nothing at all, the way he would swipe his hand over yours as he sat on a park bench next to you, two companions posing as strangers. 

He would tell you the most fantastical stories, most of which came from what his mother used to read to him. Listening to the way he spoke, the way he would ramble on about anything you could possibly image. You could hear him sighing now, fantasizing about the night to come, the date you had set up for the both of you. He was never one to make the first move.

Which is why you suddenly became nervous at the idea of Spencer seeing you like this. Party girl outfit, hair done, makeup perfectly executed, tits out. Was this who you even were? What if Spencer saw you dressed like this and realized you were just some regular girl, and not this person he had been talking to for the past six months.

It’s not like you had time to change, considering there was knocking at your door, causing you to quickly exit the bedroom and open the door. 

 You barely had time to register who it was before a cloth was pressed over your mouth, and suddenly the world was black. 

So, tell me what do I do? Am I just playing a fool? That never learned to grow old And still has no self-control

Warm. It was too warm. Your eyelids were heavy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to open them just yet, but it felt like you were back in the southwest. Your wrists tried to circle, but failed stunningly considering they were zip tied behind your back on whatever shitty wooden chair you were stuck on. 

“She’s alive!” goosebumps. Your body entered fight or flight mode, immediately causing your eyes to pop open, squinting until they adjusted to the shitty lighting. 

“Safya.” You mumbled. “Long time, no see.” 

“You look so good dearest. What were your plans? Night on the town with that sweet Doctor?” 

You didn’t react, only looking straight ahead at her, mentally preparing yourself for whatever she was about to throw at you. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll get you to talk soon enough. You had to have assumed we would find you, I mean really. How foolish did you become? And lacking in such self control–it’s embarrassing.” 

You felt your entire world crumble, dissolve into nothingness. But your face stayed motionless, betraying nothing. All you could do was hope that Spencer was not far behind them, dealing with whatever it was that you had managed to get yourself into. 

I know what everybody knows Die young or you can grow old Until they bury you six below

There was a joke you had with your dad growing up: “Die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” He would crack that joke at you when you would shit on his old people music or when he would take away your phone because you were grounded. 

Part of you had never fully understood the meaning of the phrase until tonight. 

Your face was pristine, not a scar on it. 

The rest of your body? The same could not be said. 

It ached. You were exhausted. And somehow you barely remembered any of it, just knowing that sometimes she would use knives, other times you wouldn’t be so lucky. 

So when she placed the gun against your head, standing off against the BAU, you finally got it. The trauma, the scars, the emotional devastation. 

Even worse, you sighed out of relief when she did.

She had spent over thirty hours torturing you, except you had no idea of what day it even was, considering you were halfway here, mind retreating in on itself.

You had been investigating Safya for her innate tortures of those close to her–it’s why you were undercover in the first place. The deaths surrounding her were all genuine suicides, she would never touch them after they were released from the warehouse. But their tragic end was posted in the morning edition several days later. 

“It’s over.” You heard some man’s voice call out. It was stern. It sounded authoritative. If you wanted to open your eyes, you would’ve watched as the agents attempted to distract the woman, holding you tightly against her own body. 

It felt nice to stand after so long, your legs barely supporting you. The stinging sensation of the cuts and burns melded with the sensation of your legs waking up. Your mind was enjoying the feeling. Some sort of fucked up post-torture torture, enjoying the fact that you could still feel your legs. 

People were talking across you, but all you could do was fall into your mind further. This was a win-win for you. Safya shoots you, and boom–dead. Safya doesn’t surrender, and the likelihood of you being in the firing range, boom—dead. At least you’d be able to rest then, finally able to let the ache in your bones, in your mind rest. 

But then you heard his voice. 

That same voice that had kept you sane while you were hiding away from the world. The same voice that provided the only routine you were allowed. The same voice that talked to you from sundown to sun up, letting you relish in the knowledge he carried with him.

Spencer.

It was somehow still soft, but you could tell he was very serious at the moment. You aren’t sure what he said, but you started to laugh. It started small, your mouth twitching and laughing through your nose, but it grew and grew, until suddenly you were almost doubled over in laughter. 

The entire room was silent, except for the sound of you losing your mind. 

Safya released her hold on you, letting you drop to the floor, a small smirk across her face as the gun clattered to the ground. 

What a sight you must’ve been, barely holding your chest up with your arms, laughing maniacally into the ground. 

She had broken you. 

The smirk didn’t leave her face as SSA Derek Morgan roughly placed cuffs on her wrists and shoved her out of the warehouse. 

Your laughing didn’t stop for another whole minute. And Spencer waited. He sat next to you as your laughs slowly turned into sobs and your whole body collapsed into him. Your blood was all over the floor, all over the tools on the table she had, all over you. But he didn’t care. 

He just held you as you cried and cried into him, eventually willing to let the EMTs take a look at you, on the condition that Spencer held your hand the entire time. 

Once you were out of the warehouse, and stuck snugly in the back of a large, black SUV, Spencer beside you, you leaned your head against the window. There was no recognition as cars passed by, no jumping when horns blared, you just sat still, mind far off. 

Spencer held your hand the entire ride, but it didn’t feel like enough to bring that girl back you once knew. It didn’t feel like living was worth anything now that she had disappeared from your view. 

You saw the photo burn in your mind, watching as the flames consumed your smile, leaving you with nothing but a pile of ash and the pieces of a mind that might not ever be placed back together again. 

So you lived, but at what cost? 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

Years later, you would sit in your new apartment, watching the sunset with a mug in your hands and a blanket around your arms. You unconsciously ran a hand up and down your thigh, feeling the healed marks and the scars that added texture in a place that should have felt smooth. 

Something in the sky told you the day would not stay as beautiful as it had started. Your phone beeped, a message from Spencer. 

He checked in with you every night he wasn’t home with you, letting you know he was okay, letting you know he was coming home to you. You quickly sent a text back, telling him you were excited for him to return tomorrow. 

You heard the footsteps before you saw the person they belonged to. Your name was said softly as you placed your phone down on the counter, picking up the little boy, who was still half asleep, wrapped in his dinosaur pajamas and dinosaur blanket. 

“What’s up bud.” You whispered, trying your best at the moment, considering your mind was somewhere far far away. 

What he ended up mumbling out was some varying words that eventually amalgamated to the fact that he couldn’t sleep. 

You nodded and kissed his head. “Want a story?” 

You felt his head nod as he curled into you, not three years old and still so small. You picked him up, carrying him back to his room, and placing him in his bed. You adjusted his nightlight, before picking up one of the thousands of books Spencer had gotten for your son. 

Once he was sound asleep, you placed a soft kiss on the crown on his head, and slowly snuck out of the room, leaving the door open a crack in case that story ended up not sufficing. 

You heard your phone go off, quietly running to pick it up before your child woke up again. 

“Hello?”

“She’s escaped” 

The exhale you let out was a shaky one. 

Spencer had been there to hand you piece after piece as you slowly placed yourself together again. He was there when you screamed in the middle of the night, and he was there when your eyes would flare dangerously with something more than hatred for the woman who had caused you such grief. You still barely wore skirts or shorts, opting to cover every inch you could whenever possible. Spencer watched as you struggled to stay put, mind wandering as far as it could. 

“Y/N?”

“Sorry. Sorry. Just…”

“I know. Spencer is flying home as we speak. I still wanted to call and let you know before hand. Just, uh…You know.” 

“Thanks Derek. I’ll see you soon.” 

It felt wicked. The smile that spreads across your face. And it felt even more devious when you pulled the bottle of champagne off of the shelf it was so beautifully perched on, waiting for a special occasion to pop its cork. 

You didn’t even grab a glass as you looked in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at you. You toasted to yourself, swinging out of the bottle, enjoying as the bubbles slid down your throat as you pulled a chair out into the hallway. You unlocked the top cabinet above the fridge where your son could never reach, and pulled out the gun you used all those years ago. 

Sitting in front of the only door in or out, all windows locked. Your safety was off, and the champagne made you feel invincible as you stared at the door, just waiting for her to knock on your door again, giving you the satisfaction of the opportunity to hurt her the same way she had hurt you. 

Self control had never been your strong suit anyways. 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

[egotisticalmachine]

one thing ive had to learn with my flavor of low empathy is that often, ill THINK im experiencing empathy, but its actually just me projecting my own assumptions about someones emotions onto them.

often its me projecting how i would feel in their situation, but it isnt actually accurate, because i as a pwNPD tend to have much different emotional reactions to things than other people do. so i end up assuming someone must be devastated over whats actually a small, inconsequential situation to them. most people arent that bothered by one small offhanded joke going unacknowledged in a group chat where theyre generally paid attention to and acknowledged, for example, but it does tend to bother me when that happens, so its hard to realize that others feel differently than i would.

or, i do that thing where i overestimate my effect on people - i assume that others are heartbroken if they dont have my full enthusiastic attention and approval, when really, really, its probably not a huge deal. but its extremely difficult for me to process that im not a focal point of other peoples emotions, so it takes a lot of conscious effort to REALLY consider their perspective, even though to me, assuming they need my approval FEELS like i AM considering their perspective.

or, often, what i first think is empathy is a trauma response. in my case, ive been made to actually be responsible for someone elses emotional well being, and made to feel like it was my fault if their mental health plummeted. so i overcompensate and panic and assume that people are having big emotional reactions to things, because a part of me is afraid of being responsible for someone elses self destruction, and my impulse is to go into damage control mode and coddle them. but its not even necessary because once again, im projecting assumptions onto them.

all of these go hand in hand, of course. and in all these scenarios, im not actually picking up on cues from the other person that would prompt me to feel what they feel. its not affective empathy at all. sure, maybe someone is actually upset and im able to use a degree of cognitive empathy to understand that theyre upset, but the more i examine my thought processes, the more i realize its not even cognitive empathy a lot of the time. its just projection. its like, my own existence is so large to me that i really struggle to look past myself and my own emotions and self importance. and its been very helpful to recognize all this, and stop mislabeling it as empathy, because doing so allows me to look at situations more rationally and acknowledge what i dont know, so i can instead focus on communicating with someone to figure out how they ACTUALLY feel.

[gravytrainnaturebornn]

the power of self-talk in the fight against self-sabotage (for binge-eaters and ppl who have never been skinny🫶)

disclaimer: this is not proana. this is for people who struggle with binge eating as a form of self-sabotage, emotional comfort, self harm, etc. overeating can cause just as much harm physically and mentally as undereating. please be safe. now, on with the show!

weight loss, but specifically extreme weight loss, equals change. change equals discomfort, so people tend to subconsciously avoid change. this is why starting to see progress on the scale or your body can trigger the urge to self-sabotage that progress and binge eat.

for people who have been big their whole lives, that fear is heightened by the fact that being thin is completely uncharted territory. by following through, youre entering a new world that youve never navigated before. your brain might get scared, say its much too big a mountain to climb, and tell you to give up. its easier to say fuck it because for most people, unhappiness is a comfort zone. if youre used to hating your body and wanting it to change, then actually *changing* it poses a very serious threat to your comfort and the lifestyle youre used to.

questions like: "what if i reach my goal and im still unhappy/unattractive?" "what if i dont look like myself?" "what if i reach my goal, cant sustain it, and then i gain it all back and humiliate myself?" can all make someone feel anxious about succeeding in their weight loss journey. and for people with overeating issues, this is a big trigger for binge episodes.

so how do you combat this instinct to self sabotage? well, im not a psychologist so take this with a grain of salt, but for me it helps to soothe these subconscious fears and train the brain to fight these urges. self-talk and thought-correction play a HUGE role in rewiring the pathways in your brain that lead you to bingeing. truly, practice and consistency are the only things that are going to cause a big change, so stick with it !

correcting problematic thoughts *immediately* when they form is key to preventing problematic behavior in the future, and that starts with being able to identify those thoughts. the moment you catch yourself thinking about food, cut yourself off with a correction. maybe even think about food on purpose a few times to practice recognizing and correcting it.

for example, if you just ate an hour ago, chances are youre not actually hungry yet. tell yourself that as soon as you realize youre thinking about food. i like to tell myself "i dont need to eat, and im not gonna sabotage myself by eating that." by acknowledging it and calling it what it is--literally an attack, by my brain, on my own progress--i immediately attach a sense of accountability to the actions that follow. there's no deniability. its no longer a passive choice. theres no mindless eating or "i wasnt thinking about it." if i eat after acknowledging the act of eating as self-sabotage, then that is me *actively* choosing self-sabotage over self-control. accountability alone can change a lot if you let it.

what i tell myself changes depending on the situation, but i find that repeating some of these phrases throughout the day helps to fight urges in general, and certain ones help for specific cravings and situations.

below are some examples of things i tell myself that have helped me fight the urge to self sabotage. they dont all have to be true when you first say them, the point is training your brain to think a certain way. it may feel unnatural at first, but the more you say them the more natural it becomes, until eventually it becomes apart of the way you actually think and you dont have to work so hard at it. remember: consistency. is. key.

okay ill stop blabbing! here:

•i allow myself to be thin.

•i accept the change that comes with losing weight.

•i am ready to see myself differently and cope with any complicated feelings that may come with it.

•i am prepared for my body to change.

•i will deal with my wardrobe when the time comes, and im not afraid of dressing differently for my new body.

•i will adjust to my new dietary needs and appetite when i reach my goal weight. i will not always be hungry; eating less will be my new normal, and i will be okay.

•i am not afraid of being hungry.

•food does not comfort me, nor does it solve my problems or make me feel better.

•i am ready to navigate a life that looks different to the one im living now.

•i am not afraid of reaching my goal. if i do feel afraid, i am confident in my ability to work through difficult feelings and continue towards my goal.

•im not going to sabotage myself by eating that.

•i accept that people will perceive me differently, and i am ready to navigate that change.

•i am prepared to receive comments about my weight loss.

•i am not afraid of getting what i want.

•i believe i deserve what i want, and im dedicated to working towards getting it.

•i am capable of adapting to new routines and habits.

•fear is not a reason to give up, and i will continue to work even if the possibility of change makes me uneasy.

•i am prepared to face the future, even though i do not know what it looks like.

•i allow myself to make mistakes, and i will not use them as an excuse to quit.

•my long-term satisfaction is more important than what i want in this moment.

•i am in control of my actions and i am capable of resisting the urge to binge.

•i allow myself to have the body i desire.

•i allow myself to change.

•i allow my life to look different and i am not afraid to see a new person in the mirror.

•i am excited to reach my goal, and prepared to navigate any changes that come with it.

•i am ready to meet and introduce others to the new me.

[rockyfr0g]

my thoughts on "writing on the wall" by will stetson (as someone who relates to kaveh an unhealthy amount)

(ill preface this by saying im not good at separating headcanon and canon, especially when it comes to kaveh, and im not the best at understanding songs at more than face value cause im autistic but i just have so many thoughts on kaveh and this song and aaa)

firstly, the differences between the three choruses. i love how it encapsulates the devolution of both his mental state and how he views his work. in the first chorus, hes careful and precise, taking a lot of pride and happiness in his work, excited to see the completed project and overall enjoying working on it. whereas the second and third choruses hes been beaten down and rejected more and more by clients, failing to understand his vision, he feels more and more trapped by his creations. but still he holds his pride in them because if he loses that, he'll lose everything hes worked for. at first hes able to ignore the "writing on the wall", but as it gets harder and harder to please his clients or be able to afford what he wants to do, or even to create his visions, the writing becomes harder to ignore. as for what the writing means, im not too sure. but my idea is that the writing refers to the voices of doubt or dissaproval (both from his own thoughts and others comments), as well as the little criticisms when a client asks to revise his design once more. all of the negativity mixing within his own confidence in himself and his art, culminating in the writing on the wall. it represents the thoughts he desperatly tries to keep hidden until it gets too much and overflows (the end of the song).

secondly, i wanna talk about the actual music video. ive only watched it the one time for now, but here are my thoughts on it. the transitions between choruses and verses, and how it becomes redder and more exasperated the longer the song goes on to me feels like a really good expression of kavehs emotional state during the song. how the lines between him as a person and as an artist are slowly blurring, as he feels like hes becoming one with his buildings. being "trapped" by them.

another thing i love about the song is that its JUST focusing on kaveh. it isnt kaveh and alhaitham, it isnt 4ggravate. its all about kaveh. which is rare to see, especially within fandom space where i find kaveh is often diminished to just alhaithams partner, roomate, tormenter, whatever. so its really refreshing to see someone focusing solely on him and his problems without regard for anyone else for once, i love it. it gives you more of an understanding of just how much kaveh struggles, not only when it comes to his professional life, but his personal life too. we see how he struggles to balance keeping his aesthetics and pride while also trying to adhere to what the client wants, with "the right way takes a toll" showing how no matter how hard kaveh does try to keep this balance, it often gets toppled over and his ideas are more or less ignored in favour of something simpler. the balance is something kaveh struggles with throughout the whole song, but it becomes more prevalant in the last couple minutes. as for how he struggles personally, well the song mentions "the bigger the sorrows to drown", hinting at kavehs struggle with alcoholism and his use of alcohol as an escape from the voices and torments hes subjected to by his mind, turning to numbing his feelings with alcohol and often ending up worse off, physically or mora-wise. his alcoholism specifically isn't something i see people talk about a lot as its often glossed over or treated as just one of his quirks, when its evident that it is a serious problem, hes jsut so used to it at this point that he doesnt present it as such.

apologies, this kinda stopped being about the song itself and more just about kaveh and my own thoughts in some parts. but i hope its an interesting read at least!!

[jfashion-confessions]

I don't understand the back and forth between Jirai. As a mentally ill adult with BPD as well as other illnesses. I don't understand trying to claim a slur I wouldn't be called as a western who lives IN the west. No one in the west randomly uses that SLUR because its japanese. English speakers still don't jot their english with random Japanese. English speaker would call me: Crazy, lunatic, unhinged, attention seeking, someone they gotta tiptoe around / walk on eggshells around, mental, a "amber heard", a danger like jodi arias. the list goes on and on... I've heard hurtful and dismissive comments about my mental health or even just heard this about others who are mentally ill, because not everyone knows my status. But my point is the "feed back" and dismissive and belittling comments are always in english. I just find when I see younger folks arguing its a slur they like or they wanna reclaim it doesn't sit right with me. We don't get called those things. We get called ENGLISH words. I've never heard it in my life until the subculture became more popular in the west in 2020/2021. And since probably 2023 I've seen it become more popular. But even still I don't *hear* the word enter normal peoples vocab. I also don't really like calling it a lifestyle, because mental health isn't a lifestyle. It's a condition. I don't want to glamorize mental health, it should be seen just like any other health condition. Just like allergies, or physical illness something else. The difference between education and awareness and glamorizing is awareness gives you better understanding of the disorder. Glamourising makes people wish they were disordered or don't want to seek treatment because thats their "thing". We all struggle and have bad days, some stuff will set us off, sometimes stuff is difficult. But thats not "jirai" to struggle. I like the term "dark girly" as someone who's got bpd and psychosis because it also removes my mental health from the fashion. Dark girly addresses the aesthetic, motifits and beautiful (dark and rich) colors I see. Jirai can't be divorced from its original context, or the sex trafficking or other aspects of its shady history and inevitable trauma it's created. I also don't like negative stereotypes being connected with mental health. I can recognise for japanese young women / women this slur has preduices and that culture is not as open with mental health. It's more judgemental, views it as a private affirm. (and yes, as a western I can see the relatable because I had parents who were in this same conservative mindset of we don't share bad things. Don't talk about your suffering, don't talk to a therapist. Stop! But, I'm an adult now & as a western I have more access to getting help, but also being able to openly speak about my issues and find spaces were I can do so without stigma or judgement. I'm not aware if japan has this so much. Culturally speaking I'm an outsider, so my awareness is ignorant.) For reclaiming the slur too, I find it really strange because the west has a lot of different cultures in it, and i'm sure all of them have their own slurs for mentally unwell people and society beliefs with mental health and how its shameful & yet I don't see westerns grabbing those slurs and being like 'you know what! I'm this too, I'm reclaiming all of this." I just feel like Jirai is being claimed by misguided youngsters. But I really wish the back and forth could stop and I realize I'm fueling the debate to. So I'm sorry.

.

[andreal831]

How do you think the Mikaelson’s lives would have turned out had they been human?

Sorry for the delay in answering! I forgot this one was in my drafts.

It's really hard to say since we know so little about their human lives. When we see flashbacks, we mostly see the bad parts of it. Mainly Mikael's anger. But each Mikaelson also reflects fondly on parts of their human lives.

Part of my writing takes place during their human lives so I spend a lot of time thinking about what their lives were actually like past the small glimpses we see. I also like to think about the trajectory of their lives because I think it makes it all the more devastating how their lives turned out. I honestly think they would have had good lives.

I really don't know what Finn would have been doing since we see so little of his personality outside of his attachment to Esther. But because of this attachment I feel like he would potentially never marry. Esther feared brining Dahlia to them and would have tried to prevent any of them from having children. But I also like to imagine Finn would have met someone like Sage who would have captured his attention and he would have run off with her. I don't see Finn ever being close to his siblings, so he likely would have been the first to leave and not look back. I truly think that would be best for him. To start his own family and his own life away from the pain of losing Freya.

Elijah would have married Tatia and become a step-father to her son. Esther would have been thrilled because it gave Elijah the chance to have a child without triggering Dahlia's deal. She likely would have tried to do something to prevent any more kids. But Tatia and Elijah would have had a nice, simple life together and would have been incredibly happy.

I think Klaus would have been better off. While we see him struggle with his werewolf temper and his trauma from his childhood, he would have had more of a chance to work through it. Being on the run from Mikael and having his anger/mental illness exacerbated by vampirism pushed Klaus down a dark path. I like to think at some point, Klaus and Elijah would have felt strong enough to challenge Mikael. Mikael would have gotten older and Klaus and Elijah would have become more prominent members of the village. Klaus standing up to his abuser would have given him the closure he never had in his thousand years. He would have met someone, fallen in love, had a family, and hopefully have stopped the cycle of abuse rather than falling into it.

Kol, I could also see leaving the village. Traveling the world and finding witches to share his knowledge and learn. He would have written home and visited occasionally, but found his love for adventure and exploration elsewhere. Likely gotten married to some witch he met along the way. They would have travelled and raised their kids away from the small village he grew up in.

Rebekah would have had the life she wanted. Gotten married and had kids as well. She would have stayed close to Klaus and Elijah. She would have been a dotting aunt to their children and meddled in their lives.

Mikael would have eventually died, whether naturally or not, and I think they would have been able to slowly repair their relationships with their mother. Especially if Klaus would have been able to have a relationship with Ansel as he got old enough to understand the dangers of Mikael finding out.

Henrik would be alive. We don't know a lot about him but I always felt like he was a lot like Kol. The youngest, wild brothers, always getting into trouble and Elijah having to clean it up.

Someone likely would have had a kid and brought Dahlia to them which would be interesting. Freya would defend her siblings but wouldn't have much help outside of Kol or Esther. It would be interesting to see Esther actually use offensive magic. Although from how Dahlia was hyped up in TO, I don't think they would be super successful. It would have been beautiful for Esther and Dahlia to repair their relationship as well. Both of them realizing the pain and hardship the other has been through. I would have loved Esther and Dahlia to team up against Mikael and then have the safe and happy family they always desired.

Thanks for the ask! Sorry, it took so long to respond!

[thiscreaturehardlyresemblesman]

As much as I love all depictions of Mind’s headaches and Heart’s heartaches (sweet sWEET ANGST) my personal take seems to be slightly different. I feel like unlike Mind’s headaches, Heart’s heartaches aren’t physical pain like it’s often depicted, but emotional pain. Essentially, rather than “heartaches” referring to physical chest pains on their own, like before a heart attack, it’s referring to the chest tightness and pain being caused by crying and struggling to breathe, such as during a panic attack or his depression kicking in. It would make sense, he is the manifestation of emotions and when we say “heartache” we are typically describing emotional pain rather than physical pain. Heart’s heartaches are an emotional ache- a sudden debilitating sinking feeling of dread and/or panic that either sends his adrenaline through the roof or just makes his chest feel heavy. He’ll always grab at his chest as if he’s been stabbed, as if it is physical pain, but it’s him trying to ground himself, trying to get his heart rate to slow down a little so he can b reathe, or trying to sooth the sudden inexplicable feeling of loneliness and hopelessness out of nowhere. It’s just as debilitating for him as if it were physical pain, and often the fear of a heartache can cause a heartache to happen (even more of a metaphor for mental illness.) It’s the kind of dread that sends you into a fit of sobbing and gasping for air and leaves you feeling too sick and lightheaded to stand, the feeling you get when something terrible’s happened, but it’s random and inexplicable. Theoretically, nothing should be wrong. The way he reacts, you can tell he’s in pain, but it’s emotional pain. He is the emotional side, after all. It also may be part of why Mind thinks he’s so weak. Mind’s headaches are physically debilitating and the pain actively stops him from functioning, and because it’s physical pain and Heart’s is emotional pain, he assumes that it’s not like that for Heart, that he is just over dramatic and should be able to snap out of it (again, mental illness metaphors!!!) But Heart is no more capable of making the emotional pain stop than Mind is at making the physical pain stop, and he’s no more able to “power through.”

[redbud-tree]

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

My name is Nik, and I have never had a home. Now, before you panic or accuse me of making up stories, I have never been without a roof over my head. But a home is more than that. It’s somewhere you feel safe, somewhere you have family by blood or by choice and a community that you trust and that supports you.

In all my 35 years, I’ve never known what that feels like. But I want to, and that’s what the GoFundMe I've linked below is for.

I spent most of my life raised in a fundamentalist Christianity-based micro-cult in Oklahoma, born to an abusive mother and a chronically ill father. I was homeschooled, isolated, abused and denied medical care, and never taught many of the life skills I desperately needed in order to make it on my own.

I’m autistic and receive social security on account of being diagnosed before the age of 22, who has survived my father passing on from his own debilitating illness in 2014. I think my mother’s goal was to keep me at home and keep profiting off of my disability income for the rest of my life. Mine, not hers, because the stress and misery of it all was killing me, and if my mental health didn’t lead to me taking drastic actions, the lack of medical care I was receiving would have led to my death within a few years anyway.

Then, in November of 2021, I managed to escape. Escape is no exaggeration here, as it involved sneaking out of an isolated farm in broad daylight with a very high chance of being intercepted and stopped despite my age and status as an adult with full legal rights. I am not and have never been under a conservatorship or guardianship past the age of 18 - I was kept at home purely through abuse tactics and gaslighting. With the help of friends, I made it to the Pacific Northwest where I was supposed to be able to start over and build my life at last.

…Yeah, that? That didn’t work.

I stayed in Washington for about a year, but my roommate and I had incompatible trauma, so I moved to Portland where a larger group of my friends were and where I should have had a support network to help me as I recovered and started treating my trauma properly with medication and therapy.

…That support network ditched me completely. Everyone has their own troubles, their own struggles, but when you’re in a city and trying to recover from abuse, and you’re alone because the people you were counting on never even talk to you, let alone want to spend time with you because they have better things to be doing, well. You can’t make a home where you aren’t wanted.

And the thing is, there are a lot of things about where I live now that don’t fit who I am. Portland is too much of a big city for me. There aren’t enough animals, and the wrong kind of animals when there are any. The smells and the sounds are all wrong, and I stick out like a sore thumb with all of the cultural differences between the PNW and Oklahoma.

So for my mental health and continued recovery, I’m going to move to live closer to the people I know care about me– in this case, one of my oldest friends, who’s put up with my shenaniganry for close to 15 years now–but I’m trying to do that on a very limited budget.

My only income is, as I said, social security disability, and right now almost ¾ of that is going to my rent alone. That means I can’t save enough to move, and on top of that, I’m trying to move to West Virginia.

I’ve seen pictures of the area and it reminds me of the one spot in Oklahoma I ever felt happy, the Ouchitas, but somehow… More. Some of my ancestors used to live in the Appalachians; not West Virginia specifically, but the mountains, and when I saw a photo of that friend’s hometown I almost burst into tears because it was like looking at a place I hadn’t been to in years and needed desperately to get back to.

I never knew you could be homesick for a place you’ve never seen, but I am, and everything in me is crying out that I need to get there. Something deep inside me, something older than the trees, older than the concrete and steel currently surrounding me where I live right now says that when I do, I will finally have found my way to the home that I’ve been looking for all of my life.

Will you help me get there?