#anyways i am made SO unwell by these episodes. like i need to lie down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thisdreamplace · 3 years

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hello, i was needing some advice on a mental illness. getting into loa has been a lifesaver, but it’s also been difficult especially since i have become more aware. especially to my mental illnesses & wanting to overcome them forever & obtain my peace of mind. over a span of my life i have struggled with different episodes of ocd. as we know (ocd) isn’t something easy to deal with when it becomes bad. recently i have come down with (hocd.) if ur not familiar with what it is, it’s intrusive thoughts surrounding your sexuality that make you question your sense of self constantly EVEN when you are sure you know what feels right within. it can go either way. for me i identify as straight, but overtime i started noticing small compulsions happening in my mind, especially rumination due to the intrusive thoughts surrounding (liking girls.) i’d like to say this isn’t something that’s been talked about much, some people may say it is caused through homophobia, which is further from the truth. it’s actually the exact reason it makes me & plenty of people who suffer from it feel worse, is that that wouldn’t ever be our intention. some days i’m okay, & others i’m totally unwell. it sucks so bad when in your heart & soul, you know who you are but you constantly get thoughts of things not you. i feel it came up when i was on the media a lot. i had a moment in my life where i tried to be like other people. or people influenced me in a way of me feeling like i had to be them. there’s so much that i’m aware to how it happened. there was times where i was okay with no labels, until i realized i’m only interested in guys. but those thoughts made me feel bad for identifying in the straight section instead of being open like other people. i fully support everyone. everyone deserves love & to love whoever they want. all i want is peace. i hate the triggers i get, it always gives me anxiety & i start feeling ill due to rumination & spiraling thoughts. i know self concept & not allowing the intrusive thoughts to affect me is something to do. & to also allow myself time to heal away from the suffering & set myself free. i have so many goals & dreams, just such an amazing life planned out but all of ocd & anxiety makes me feel sick, like i’m stuck in this hole forever. i hope you understand this post. even if the illness may not make sense to you, i was hoping you could give me some encouraging advice on how to heal myself away from this illusion not me. it’s not the love i know within myself. everyone’s love is different, & it’s not mine. i know also not to give too any attention to the 3d to avoid the triggers. that all i need to do is look to myself. how do i dissolve the illusion fully? any other tips i would love so that i can overcome this. feeling like you have nothing & empty is the worst, & it’s exactly how i feel. i’m scared that no one will understand me or this that i’m struggling with. that they will blame me for denial, or something when it’s not that. i think i’m scared of what others would tell me. i ruminate on that a lot. being my true est self is a journey. i most definitely want to embrace love. i’m proud of how far i’ve come & that i’ve never given up. i like to say i have nothing to lose, but everything to gain. but it’s no lie sometimes unwanted thoughts can really make you spiral when your ready to set out on a beautiful path. i hope you understand, & can maybe help me a bit. thank you, btw your blog has helped me so much in a lot of ways:)!

Hello!

I don't talk about it often at all, but I am no stranger to struggling with intrusive thoughts. I understand what it's like, completely. The biggest thing I can tell you here is this: they mean nothing. I understand how uncomfortable it is, how agonizing it can be. How badly you can feel physically because of them. But those thoughts mean nothing. Actually.

I think in a way, you're making it a little difficult when you try to fight against the thoughts. You're trying to prove to yourself the thoughts aren't true. But here's the thing, you become much more powerful through surrender. It's weird, it's uncomfortable, but it's the truth. If you just allow those thoughts to be and practice observing them from a more loving place, you'll see how much powerful you'll begin to feel. You don't need to prove those thoughts aren't true. You already know who you are. You already know what you truly desire. So in that, there is nothing to prove anymore. You already are, you're already perfect. Those thoughts have no weight on the truth. I'm not saying this will be easy, but as you practice this you will see the power in allowing and choosing love for yourself. Don't worry about what anyone else will say, because they're only mirroring your own worries anyway. If someone doesn't understand you, it's simply because you're afraid of being misunderstood. At the end of the day though, you're right in how you feel and you're allowed to feel that way. Allow yourself to feel this way more and more, and that is how you take back your power.

This is one of my favorite quotes from Jen from I Am Love:

“The paradox, is that when you focus on who you really are, and let the experience of different states come and go, you will actually start to feel powerful. Because you are no longer creating unnecessary obstacles. You are no longer focusing on needing or lack. Your are fully embracing that you may not fully feel it, and that is okay.

If you focus on “that is okay”, then you will manifest more of “it’s okay, I can get what I want, even if I do not fully feel powerful all of the time.” - Jennifer Ramdeo

So, this is essentially what I am advising you here. It's not about fighting with the illusion, it's about allowing it because you know how it's not you. You're truly love at your core and that is the only thing that is real. When you practice tapping into that often, you will see how your world changes. Once again, I am not saying it'll be easy all the time. Especially in the beginning, it'll be uncomfortable. Sometimes, you may even feel like you're doing this for nothing. But trust trust trust it's working. Like you said, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. So even if your faith is at 1%, that's enough to keep moving forward even when it doesn't seem like you are. Everything is always working out in your favor.

I truly hope this is helpful. I am thankful my blog has helped you so far! 💖

#i am

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lia-jones · 3 years

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Growing Together - Chapter Eight - Aftermath

Author’s note: This chapter has graphic descriptions of violence, as Andrea remembers a very specific episode of her abuse. If you sensitive to this kind of things, avoid the third part in italic.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes were hers. They were red and puffy, almost unable to stay open. It was obvious that she had been crying for days. I tried to call for her, but only a raspy sound came out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet.” I heard her instruct. “Your vocal cords must be sore from the tube.”

“She woke up?” I heard my father ask. “Andy, can you hear us?” He bolted to my mother’s side, allowing me to see his face.

“Andy, do you remember what happened to you?” My mother’s eyes shone again with tears.

I lied, shaking my head. I knew exactly what had happened. I wished that I didn’t.

“Do you need a blanket?” I felt Victor’s hand touching my shoulder. I turned my gaze from the jet window to face him, seeing concern in his eyes.

“I’m ok.” I quipped, turning to the window again. I could feel Victor watching me, but he didn’t speak another word.

“The pilot wants to let you know that we will be arriving in Loveland at 3 pm, local time.” We were informed by the flight attendant. “The duration of flight is estimated to be 11 hours. Should I prepare the bed?”

“Maybe for later.” Victor answered. “Put on some extra pillows for my wife as well.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as the flight attendant walked back to the booth.

“You have been very quiet since we left the clinic.” He held my hand. “Are you in pain? I’ll ask for a bottle of water so you can take an analgesic.” Victor motioned to press the CALL button.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” I rubbed my forehead. Victor lovingly took my hand, lowering it to my lap.

“That doesn’t mean tired.” He quipped softly. “But maybe you should take a nap. You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

I laid down beside my husband, letting him wrap a protective arm around me. His hand took mine, drawing soft lines on my skin.

“Are you comfortable?” I heard him whisper.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes, trying to end the conversation.

“Do you need another pillow?”

“I’m sleepy.”

I felt his lips touch my hair.

“Good night.”

I got the pen and paper from my mother’s hand and placed it on my lap, writing furiously on it.

“The baby?” I wrote.

My mother sighed heavily, and took my hand.

“Andy…” She trailed off. I slapped the paper hard with my hand. Why couldn’t she tell me already? I knew he was dead, no embryo would survive that beating. But I needed to hear it.

“It’s incredibly rare, but it can happen to a woman to have a false positive pregnancy test.” My mother explained. “There was no baby. You weren’t pregnant.”

That was simply ridiculous. There was a baby, I was sure there was a baby. I had symptoms, my breasts were swollen, I was late, there was a positive test…

“I have something to tell you, Andrea.” My mother warned me, with tears in her eyes. “But you have to promise me you’ll be strong.”

I nodded, without knowing exactly what I was agreeing to, or what kind of strength would I need.

“You had severe uterine bleeding.” She held my hand tightly. “They had to perform a hysterectomy.”

I woke up, enjoying the soft sun and the earthy colors of our bedroom for the first time in a week. We were back in Loveland. I had left in Switzerland the dream of giving Victor a biological child.

What exactly does one do when one’s dream is gone? Until our trip to Switzerland, my infertility was a reality, but with the help of science, it could still be overcome. The dream was dormant, but still alive. Now, not even all the fighting in the world could make me have a child of my own. The dream was dead. The only thing left to do was to bury it, and move on.

Without much thought, I got up from bed and did what I did every morning, on a normal day: I went to the kitchen. And predictably enough, Victor was finishing cooking, the scrambled eggs and toast already on the table, a mug with coffee placed by my usual seat.

“Good morning.” He announced, as he added to the table some sliced fruit. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“The cramps seem to be gone.” I declared, making an effort to look perky. “ Will you give me a ride today? I need to go to LCG today, see how the remodeling is going. Any interesting news?”

My husband didn’t seem interested in the news, though.

“You’re going to work?” He frowned at me. “You had a procedure two days ago.”

I gently placed my forkful of eggs on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t want to think about Switzerland or my procedure. I just wanted to move on.

“Three days ago.” I corrected. “There’s a time difference. Besides, I’m fine, I’m just going to see the remodel, I’m not going to break any walls myself.”

I needed to sound as normal and healthy as possible if I was going to convince my husband. But the truth was, I was not only trying to convince Victor, I was also trying to convince myself. Except my body wasn’t in on my lie. I felt a painful cramp in my lower abdomen that almost made me double over, suppressing a whimper.

“I have to find my phone.” I got up from my seat carefully, before Victor could be any wiser. “I must have a hundred emails to return.”

Victor and I didn’t reveal what we were doing in Switzerland, just stating we had meetings with new clients there and would be extremely busy, so we kept communications to a bare minimum. When I went to the clinic for the procedure I turned off my phone, and because of all that happened after, I never remembered to turn it on again. The moment my device came to life, it started beeping non-stop.

I started skimming through the messages, already categorizing the most urgent ones to reply as soon as I got to my computer. My eyes lingered on one sent by Diane.

Aunty Andrea, I have arrived! I was born on August 19th, at 7 pm, weighing 6 pounds. I am a healthy and happy baby and I can’t wait to meet you. Mommy and Daddy say hi! Lots of love, Penny.

Below there was a picture of a sweet baby wrapped in a pink soft blanket, sleeping peacefully. I heard Victor speaking from behind me, leaning against the door frame.

“I was going to tell you after breakfast.”

I took a deep breath, afraid I might start to cry. Clearing my throat, I turned to him, trying to act as perky as possible.

“It’s ok, now I know.” I moved past him to the walking closet. “Penny looks absolutely precious.” I picked a shirt to wear. “I need to call Diane to know when it’s the most convenient to visit. They’re probably too tired to see people right now.”

“Just stop it already.” Victor scolded, making me start to get jittery. “I know you are unwell, you shouldn’t be going to work. You need time to recover.”

“No, what I need is a shower and to get back to my life. I can’t do that staying at home and moping.” I was desperate to get steaming water on my abdomen to ease the pain I was feeling. “Give me 20 minutes and we can leave.”

My wish to pretend everything was ok soon fell apart, as the dull pain I was feeling sharpened and made my knees buckle. The only reason I didn’t fall was Victor’s watchful stance, as he promptly gathered me in his arms.

“You’re not going to work today. Neither am I.” He sat me on the bed. “I’ll help you shower and change into more comfortable clothes, but no one is leaving the house today. You just had surgery, and you are still in pain.”

Despite my protests, Victor undressed me and took me to the bathroom, allowing me to shower by myself under the condition that he would sit outside the stall, waiting for me. I let the hot water dissolve the knots in my body, my mind reeling with thoughts of the recent events.

For the past two years, I had worked hard to get rid of all the marks Daniel left in me. I got my self-esteem back, fell in love, made a career for myself. But I couldn’t erase the mark that hurt me the most, my infertility. I had told everyone that I couldn’t remember what had happened, convincing them that my head injury or maybe shock had erased it from my mind. However, I was trying to spare their feelings. The truth was too cruel, I needed to keep it to myself, so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. That day at the hospital, I swore to myself that what happened that night would die with me.

First, the memory came in flashes. I did my best to keep it hidden in the dark corner of my mind, but to no avail. It was overpowering me, to the point that I forgot where I was, and simply closed my eyes, finding myself on the cold floor of my old kitchen again.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Daniel circled me as I sat on the floor, wiping the blood from my nose. “Did you really think I would just let you walk away?”

He removed the belt from his pants and wrapped it around my neck, tightening it as he kneeled behind me.

“Listen carefully, my love. You don’t get a say about your life. You don’t get a say about that baby’s life. You don’t even get to decide where you go.” I fumbled uselessly to get the belt off my neck, almost passing out with the lack of oxygen. I was startled with his mouth whispering in my ear. “I’m the one who decides who stays and who goes, and I decide who gets to live. Let me tell you what I have decided.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and suddenly smashed my head against the tile. After that, I couldn’t get up. The pain was so unbearable I was paralyzed and temporarily blind, my ears ringing loudly. The only thing I could feel was the blood pouring from my forehead and pooling on my hair and ears, and his voice, far away, like I was under water.

“I will let you live your pathetic miserable life.” He spoke with disdain. “But you will not have that child, or any other child.”

The first kick made the air suddenly leave my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe in anymore, before another kick followed. And another. And another. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t cry, I was helpless. The only thing I could do was hope he was wrong, and death would take me anyway.

The sound of the shower door opening startled me, my mind still somewhat fuzzy, stuck between memory and reality. The water stopped, I felt a towel wrapping around me, arms lifting me from the wet floor.

When I fully came to my senses, I was in Victor’s arms, his face close to mine, whispering. It was then that I realized I was gasping for air.

“Deep breaths.” I heard his voice in my ear, while he rocked me back and forth. “Take deep breaths, Andy.”

I couldn’t stop the sobs that followed, making me shake violently. Victor held on tight to me, and I grabbed the fabric of his shirt like my life depended on it, wanting to escape the memory.

After seeing I was more relaxed, he helped me dress and laid me in bed.

“Talk to me.” He urged, as he pulled the comforter over me. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I just want to sleep.” My voice was weak as raspy, barely audible.

His hand rested on my back and lingered, as he seemed to ponder on what to do. After a moment, I felt the mattress rise as his weight left it, and I heard the sound of the door closing softly behind him. He came to the room numerous times, checking up on me. I pretended to be asleep in every single one of them, until he eventually grew tired of it and woke me up, stroking my curls.

“Your mother is on the phone, she wants to talk to you.” I opened my eyes, and his phone came into my line of sight.

“Tell her I’m sleeping.” I covered my head with the comforter.

“You need to talk to someone.” Victor’s voice had lost all his softness. “If not me, your mother. Take the phone.” He almost ordered.

“I said I don’t want to talk to her.” I turned my back. “Stop pressuring me.”

Victor unmuted his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“I’m sorry, Mariana, she’s asleep. I’ll tell her to call you later.”

I closed my eyes again, waiting for him to leave.

“You’re avoiding your mother now?” He scolded me.

“I’m not avoiding anyone, I just want to be left alone. Is that so difficult to understand?” I buried myself under the comforter.

“Yes, you are. You are avoiding your mother and you are avoiding me. Don’t think I don’t know you were pretending to be asleep every time I came to the room. You can’t deal with this all by yourself Andy, you need to speak up.”

I got up from the bed, running to the door, trying to avoid a discussion. I didn’t have it in me to fight. I was too weak. But before I could reach it, Victor pushed my back against the wall, resting his hands on it, blocking any exit for me. I was trapped.

“Victor, please, just let me go!” I begged, tears already forming in my eyes.

“I will not.” He spoke assertively. “Not until you talk to me.”

I looked down, avoiding his gaze. His forehead pressed on mine.

“Don’t hide from me, Andrea. Please.”

I felt the bad blood rising fast, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the frustration and the anguish of the past days came full force in one single wave, and before I could help it, it was spilling all over.

“What do you want me to tell you, Victor?” I felt so enraged I just wanted to scream at his face. “That I’m a horrible person that can’t even be happy for her friend? That I’m consumed by bitterness and jealousy? Or that I feel guilty for having let that piece of shit into my life, and take everything I held dear? Can you possibly understand what that’s like? He won, Victor. You are already paying the price for my bad decisions, I can’t let you pick up the pieces too.”

Victor grabbed my face with his hands, looking at me with piercing eyes.

“You are not a terrible person and you are not responsible for what happened to you. I understand this can be hard for you, but don’t avoid the people that love you. Talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk!” I yelled, frustrated. “I need normalcy, I need to feel like I’m not about to break, and I need space! I’ll figure it out by myself. Just let me figure it out by myself.”

Victor looked down, seemingly trying to hold himself back. After a moment, he let me go, walking away in frustration.

“What am I supposed to do then, sit idly as I watch you crumble to pieces? Pretend I don’t hear you cry? I will not see you like this and do nothing!“ He lifted his left hand, showing me his wedding ring. “I made a vow I have every intention to keep. In the good times and the bad, remember? It’s my duty as a husband to be at your side at all times, why won’t you let me?” He paused, looking down again. “Am I not good enough?”

His question felt like a bucket of ice dropping on me, freezing me to the core. In my mind’s eye, I could remember all the times I urged him to open up to me, worried about him. I could remember how I felt unwanted every time he pushed me back. Now, I was doing the same. I broke down sobbing, and immediately I felt my husband's arms around me, steadying me. Like they always did.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!” I pulled him tightly to me, taking the strength he was offering me. “You are more than enough, please don’t think otherwise. You are the man that I love, I need you.” I nudged his chest, letting all my anguish finally out, unrestrained. “I’m so sorry, Victor, please forgive me.”

“I’m here, my light, don’t cry.” He whispered softly in my ear, one hand holding the back of my head, the other running soothingly in my back. “All will be well, I promise. You are safe in my arms.”

#growingtogether #Growing Pains - Series #victor x oc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #mister love dream date #love and producer

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

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For You: 4 O’Clock

Chapter 3: Secrecy

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

I walked downstairs with the reasons why I shouldn’t be required to attend Donghae’s birthday party pressed on the tip of my tongue.

The Reasons:

I saw Donghae so often that seeing him for a split second at a work party (where he would dash from guest to guest) seemed kind of ridiculous

SuperM was setting out on a world tour at daybreak, and I couldn’t afford to lose hours of sleep. My face was already swollen, drowsy from staying up all night playing Truth or Dare with the guys.

I was still working on the third reason, but it would probably be something along the lines of “What’s the point in going to a birthday party if I can’t even eat cake because of this stupid diet?”

I didn’t get to voice any of my reasons to convince Mom to let me stay home, though, because I dropped my jaw on the floor when I found her sitting on the living room couch. She was still wearing the red tracksuit she wore when she drove me home from the campsite. She wore a pale green clay mask.

“What are you doing?” I checked my phone because if Mom was laying around, I must have been mistaken about the time. Nope, the screen said, I was right. “Donghae’s party starts in 30 minutes.”

She joked, “Oh, you don’t like my outfit?” before registering my unamused expression. “I’m not going, Lei. I’m sick.” She forced the least convincing fake laugh of all time, and I rolled my eyes. How gullible did she think I was?

“Fine.” I plopped down onto the couch next to her, saying, “Then I’m sick, too.” I didn’t go so far as to fake a cough, but I doubt she would have been convinced even if I had been truly unwell.

“Oh, no.” Mom kicked me off of the couch with her (mismatched) socked feet. “You used your fake flu excuse to get out of ‘Knowing Bros’—”

My entire body cringed at the mention of Heechul’s variety show. I loved Heechul, but that show— with great effort, I had managed to have a successful career without appearing on a single episode, and I planned to keep it that way.

“You need to go to Donghae’s party, anyway.” Mom lectured with facts I already knew well: “He’s never been anything but kind to you, so grab his present off the kitchen table. There’s a car outside waiting for you.”

Just to be clear: I wasn’t trying to weasel out of going to the party because I didn’t want to see Donghae or celebrate his birthday. I never would have said this out loud for fear of sounding like a total freak, but I really, really hated work parties. Although the atmosphere was always uncomfortably formal, even for birthday parties, boys (namely, Sehun) tried to blur the lines in strictly professional relationships.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so bothered. Maybe I should have tried to understand that they were grasping at romance the only ways they could— even if it was a fake, pseudo-romance explored in the shadows of an S.M. banquet hall. But I was bothered, and I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to go.

And, more pressingly, I didn’t want to see Taemin again. Except I did. Just not so soon, and not before I could figure out how to thank him for his jacket. Not before I understood why I wanted him to smile (the real smile) at me. Not before I understood why he wanted my ribbon.

Wanting to avoid Taemin wasn’t just cowardly; it was impractical, considering that I would have to see him every day for the next few months on our North American tour. I would have to face him sooner or later, talk to him sooner or later, and there was no point in delaying our next conversation.

I opened my mouth to complain— or least to ask how I was supposed to get home after the party— but Mom had turned her attention back to the paperwork in her lap. Maybe she was genuinely too busy to go to the party, even though it was for work, even though it was hosted on Donghae’s behalf. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ask if she was still avoiding Donghae.

I felt like the longer I stayed with her, the likelier I was to ask if she was the idol who never debuted. I didn’t see what good could come from asking, so I ran out of the room, grabbed the small wrapped gift from the table, and crawled into the back seat of the company car in the driveway.

“Damn, Lei,” Lucas whistled when he found me in the corner of the banquet hall where the light didn’t quite reach. “You look good!”

When he tried to pull me into a hug, I swatted him away. “This is why we have dating rumors, Lucas,” I scolded, knowing that he would shrug my concerns away while laughing.

Lucas’s eternal smile broadened as he teased, “If anyone figures out where Taemin got his bracelet, your dating rumors won’t center around me anymore.”

The only comfort was knowing that even if my blush broke through my makeup, Lucas wouldn’t have been able to see it in the dim lighting. “Stop saying that. There’s nothing like that there.”

“That’s what you keep saying.” Lucas raised a disposable red cup to his lips, so his next words were muffled. “But that dimple in your chin— the one that only deepens when you lie— says otherwise.”

Cupping a hand over my chin, I hissed, “There is no dimple!”

Lucas laughed at my reaction, and I realized that he was just messing with me. While these dating rumors were my greatest source of stress, they were just another thing for him to laugh about. I never wanted to be the reason Lucas’s laughter died, so I had to learn to play along.

This was the issue: Lucas understood my point of view; he just didn’t share it, and I couldn’t force him to.

Once he realized that I couldn’t force laughter, Lucas tried to get our conversation back on track. “Anyway, you called me over here to talk about Mom and Donghae. Does that mean there are updates?”

I shrugged and shuffled closer to him so I didn’t have to speak louder than absolutely necessary. “I still don’t know why she’s avoiding Donghae, but she didn’t come to the party—”

My attempts at secrecy were thwarted when Lucas repeated, loudly, “She didn’t come to the party?” He clamped a hand over his mouth when I cut my eyes at him. As he should have in the first place, he whispered, “She didn’t come to the party?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, tucking behind my ear a curl that had escaped my bun. “She even faked some kind of illness. She did one of those lame coughs—” Lucas hacked frailly into the sleeve of his shirt— “Yeah, exactly like that. She’s definitely not sick.”

Lucas’s brow furrowed so tightly that I imagined steam might blow out of his ears from over-exerting his brain. “But why? What could Donghae have done?”

Before I could say that I had no idea, a voice spoke from the deeper shadows, “I can find out if you want.” Sehun stepped into the light.

As I rolled my eyes at the sight of him— the second to last person I wanted to see that evening— Lucas snorted into his drink.

“What do you say, Lei?” Like a character from a movie— some kind of spy film whose plot I couldn’t quite follow no matter how hard I focused— Sehun offered his hand to me. “I’m close to Donghae. I can ask him what’s going on with him and Momager if you really want to know.”

I shook my head at the offer. Dropping his hand to his side, sure to slap it against his black dress pants, Sehun drew his eyebrows together curiously as if to ask, “Why do you always reject me?” The words didn’t have to leave his mouth; he asked them frequently enough while making that face— brows arched more than usual, lips pressed in a thin line— that I knew when they were blaring in his mind.

Unable to bear the silent exchange, Lucas tried to explain to Sehun, “She doesn’t want to owe you any favors, dude.”

I know it sounds cynical, but Lucas was right. Nobody liked to admit it, but in the entertainment industry, nobody does anything for the sake of accomplishing a good deed. Everybody is always looking to get ahead somehow, usually by performing these little favors, and I never wanted to be involved in anything like that— especially not with boys (like Sehun) who only wanted to see how close I would get to dating them.

Sehun rolled his eyes at my cynicism like he always did. “How do you know that I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart, Lei? You know I would do almost anything to make my fans happy.” He smiled at me, and my heart might have fluttered if I harbored the slightest budding feelings for him. As it was, my glare hardened, and I wanted to slap Baekhyun for telling Sehun that he was my bias.

Shaking my head, I brushed past Sehun to find Donghae. I thought that after wishing him a happy birthday in person, I could have justified leaving the party early.

I wasn’t surprised (just disappointed) that Sehun trailed closely behind, asking, “Why am I your bias, anyway, if you dislike me this much? Is it because of my visuals? That’s it, right? I’m the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.”

“As a matter of fact,” I rounded on Sehun, frustrated that he grinned at the attention as he held his hands up in mock surrender, “it’s your eyebrows. I like your eyebrows.”

“Oh.” Sehun laughed, leaning against a nearby table. “So this is what we’re doing? We’re listing what we like about each other?”

“No,” I said sternly.

I knew that the more I resisted, the more he would pursue me. This was a game. I hated it, and I hated that my natural temperament made it drag on forever.

“I don’t dislike you, Sehun, but when you act like this—”

“Like what?” He smirked. “Like the man of your dreams?”

“Like the total opposite,” I replied maybe a little too harshly. The festivities around us died down as some guests tried to listen to our conversation and even more relocated to carry on joyfully without having to hear us.

I always felt bad at this part— when I snapped because I felt cornered, and Sehun stood still, staring at the ground like I had drawn blood. If I hurt him, then why did he keep flirting me? If this wasn’t a game, wouldn’t he get tired of rejection?

If it was a game, it wasn’t fun for me. I didn’t like rejecting Sehun, and I didn’t like that I had to avoid him at events like this, but the fact remained: I wasn’t interested in him like that. I didn’t know how else to tell him. I didn’t like that he made me into this villain— or, worse, this unattainable ideal— just because it made me more interesting to him.

I wasn’t something to chase: I was a person. Why couldn’t he understand that? Did I really have to explain it to him?

Sehun met my eyes when he said, “I won’t give up,” for the thousandth time.

I started to beg him to give up— or to at least stop blurring the lines between fantasy and reality— or to at least outright say that he liked me if that was the problem— but I didn’t get the chance. Donghae, Heechul, and Baekhyun crowded around the table, so I swallowed my concerns.

“Wait a minute.” Heechul’s gaze flickered between me and Sehun. Dimples formed in his cheeks. “This isn’t the boy I usually see you with, Lei!”

Baekhyun laughed. Nudging Heechul, and, cupping around his mouth as if he was divulging a secret, Baekhyun explained, “This is another one of Lei’s suitors. Apparently she and Lucas are ‘just friends,’ much to the fans’ disappointment, and Sehun is ‘just her bias,’ much to Sehun’s disappointment.”

Sehun and I, at least, were united in the simultaneous rolling of our eyes as Baekhyun and Heechul cackled together.

Sehun promised, “I’ll text you later, Lei,” and stalked away without responding to Baekhyun’s and Heechul’s harmonizing whistles.

Donghae, who had been shifting uncomfortably since arriving at the table, asked the dreaded question, “Where’s your mom?” while Baekhyun and Heechul were too busy harassing Sehun to notice.

Whatever he had done to upset Mom must have been an unwitting accident; Donghae smiled at the mere mention of her. For a second— a split second— I hated Mom for sending me into this situation where I had to break Donghae’s smile by answering, “She’s not here. She, um, isn’t feeling well.”

“What?” Donghae, Heechul, and Baekhyun asked in unison.

Heechul slipped away from the conversation without arousing Donghae’s or Baekhyun’s attention; their wide eyes were too focused on me to notice anything else. I wondered how mad Heechul would be when he drove to my house just to find Mom sitting (perfectly healthy) on the couch, probably watching episodes of their drama without him.

“She’s not feeling well?” Donghae repeated. Tiny dimples formed in his chin as he realized, frowning, “She’s never missed one of my parties before. This one year, she came even though she had the flu, and I had to beg her to go home!”

“It’s very unlike her to miss a work event.” The sadness in Baekhyun’s voice was so exaggerated that I met his gaze anxiously. What was he up to? Mock concern flooded his eyes as he said, “She must be really sick, huh, Lei? Coughing and everything?”

Oh. I realized when the corner of Baekhyun’s lips twitched upward that he overheard my conversation with Lucas. I guess he had already proven through his successful kidnapping plot that he could keep his big mouth shut when he needed too; now, he proved it again by quietly eavesdropping on me and Lucas and using his knowledge to make me squirm.

Note: Baekhyun was dangerous not just because he was cute. He was also sneaky.

Unsure of how to maintain Mom’s lie when Baekhyun knew the truth, I nodded subtly.

“It’s so weird how health can take such sudden turns for the worst.” Baekhyun shook his head and pounded his fist on the metallic navy blue table cloth. “Momager seemed fine when I talked to her earlier—” he paused to stage a dramatic gasp before asking, “You don’t think we’ll have to postpone the tour, do you? If Momager is sick, how can we leave first thing tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning?” Donghae’s eyes rounded as they looked to me for confirmation. “You’re leaving on tour tomorrow?”

I nodded, and I would have apologized to Donghae— even though I couldn’t explain why I was sorry— but Baekhyun interrupted by asking, “You don’t think she’s faking, do you? Do you think she had a hot date or something?”

Donghae gasped, “What?”

Glaring at Baekhyun, I answered through gritted teeth, “My mother would never prioritize any date over her work obligations.”

I didn’t expect Donghae to react by dropping his gaze somewhere on the table and wheezing, “I’m more than a work obligation, right?”

“Yes, of course, absolutely,” I wanted to tell him. “You’re so important to us— to me and to Mom. You are a member of the first group she helped debuted, and you have been such a fixture in our life, and you’ve never been anything but kind and—”

Oh. My stomach tied in knots as I understood why Mom didn’t want to come to the party. The knots tightened as I realized how similar Mom and I were. Neither of us wanted to worry about anything other than performing our jobs well. Neither of us knew how to respond when somebody tried to cross that line between colleague and— I don’t know— boyfriend, so we always ran away.

Oh. My heart sank as I wondered if I ever made Sehun frown the way Mom made Donghae frown with her mere absence. I doubted it, but the thought was still sickening. Maybe— maybe Mom thought that Donghae wouldn’t notice her absence among all the other party guests, but that misunderstanding didn’t lessen his very real disappointment right before my eyes. Maybe— maybe you don’t have to try to break a heart.

Baekhyun must have been oblivious to mine and Donghae’s shared discomfort. He rattled on, “Maybe Momager isn’t as virtuous as you, Lei.” Although Donghae and I bore into him with our glares, Baekhyun suggested, lips pressed out in a tiny pout, “Maybe she’s more like the idol who never debuted.”

“This again?” I set my jaw and narrowed my eyes at the ceiling before telling Baekhyun, “I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on believing that my mom is some failed trainee, and I don’t know why you’re stupid or cruel enough to keep saying it right in front of me, but you’re really pissing me off.”

Storming out of the party after yelling at my leader the night before our world tour was probably the worst thing I had done in my entire career. I knew that even as my pulse sounded angrily in my ears, but I was too angry to swallow my pride and apologize to Baekhyun.

Maybe I thought that the cool Autumn air outside would soothe my temper and enable me to do what would encourage a peaceful tour with SuperM. Maybe I knew that I wouldn’t return to the party no matter how many hours I wasted under the stars, trying to throw away the feelings I couldn’t express.

Whatever I thought would come from running from my explosive emotions, I didn’t expect Donghae to find me. I didn’t expect him to say, wearing the same gentle smile as always (as if he hadn’t been frowning just moments before), “Come on. I’ll drive you home if you really don’t want to be here.”

I stared at him, unable to blink, because those were exactly the words Taemin said by the lake last night before untying my wrists. I stared at him because I was trying to map the similarities between Donghae and Taemin. I couldn’t quite articulate it, but the same thing that made Donghae’s eyes tender made Taemin’s smile brilliant. What was it about them that I couldn’t understand— that I wanted to understand?

Had I been thinking clearly, I might have been able to understand. I might have considered that Mom probably didn’t want Donghae near our house; then, I wouldn’t have accepted his offer to drive me home.

Often, I wonder what would have happened if Donghae hadn’t forced his way past Heechul into the house. I wonder if the truth would have come out some other day— some other way— instead. I wonder if events played out as they should have. I wonder what I could have done differently.

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canaryatlaw · 4 years

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okay, so today was kinda bleh. Got up at the same time as always, got my stuff together and waited for court, which took a bit longer than usual which was obnoxious because I was feeling like, really not well at all, not just being tired but jest an overall shitty feeling, but I made it through court and then managed to delegate things a bit, mainly asking my work buddy if he would handle this hearing for me (it’s not an actual lawyer one so you just have to sit there silently and occasionally pipe in, if the judge is okay with it at that moment, anyway (usually they’re pretty chill about it though). so once I got all that done I was tempted to just disappear for a bit but I didn’t want to risk ending up being needed and they couldn’t get in touch with me, so I included in an email that I was really feeling unwell and was going to lie down for a bit, but that if they needed to reach me just call my phone and that would definitely wake me up. so by that point it was like 11 AM, so I set a casual alarm for 2 just to see what happened, I fell asleep rather quickly for me, I woke up at one point because I got a call from the court about the hearing being ready to go so I had to call my work buddy from there, but I think I fell back asleep shortly afterwards and ended up waking back up at like 1:43 so I decided I was good at that point and got back to work. things were pretty chill for the rest of the day, I did work a bit after 5 of course since I took a 3 hour nap in the middle of the workday. but the first meeting of my new virtual small group from church was at 6. I ended up in one that’s like, culinary focused so we were making something different each week. today they had picked chili and cornbread, and I had to email them ahead of time like hey so I can’t eat some stuff and chili hits like 4 of them, is it okay if I just like do my own thing and make fancier cornbread or something like that haha and they said sure, but also wanted to know what my restrictions are so they can try to find some recipes everyone can eat, so I told them the basic ones, I did say even a little spicy things but told them to ignore that one because it covers a huge amount of food and I’m pretty good at just leaving out spicy ingredients when I cook. so yeah, it was a lot of fun, I was kinda doing my thing while they did their’s with some intersections and such so I really liked it. it’s supposed to be a co-ed group but I’m pretty sure only women signed up haha oh well. they were talking about wanting people in the group to teach a recipe for one of the nights, so I’ve been thinking about that. the only recipes I consider like, mine, because I’ve compiled elements from several different recipes with some ingredients or methods or such involved, would be the toasted marshmallow cheesecake, the peppermint shortbread candy cane cookies, and my best ever rice krspie treats, which I feel like would be too easy and boring, but the first two I think would be too difficult lol so I’ll have to see what happens. after that I watched some kpop videos for a few and then a few episodes of Psych before turning on Jimmy Kimmel for a little bit before going to shower and start getting read for bed and now i’m here and we just passed 2 am I don’t think I’ll have time to take a nap tomorrow so I should really be heading to bed now, so I will do that. Goodnight babes. Happy Friday.

#daily journal #October 2020 #hello October #please be kind

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a-mentalhealth-universe-blog · 6 years

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I Miss The Old Me

In my final year of college, aged 17/18 I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. Going to university is what you’re pushed towards these days, pushed by staff at college and in my case by my family. My parents pushed me not on purpose, but it was clearly the future for me that they wanted, I also felt some pressure coming from the fact my two older siblings had been to large universities and gained top degrees. I applied to a number of universities in the North of England despite home being far away in the South West. I ended up with an unconditional offer for one of the uni’s I had really liked the look of and found myself incredibly excited.

Fresher’s week rolled around and it seemed I’d hit the jackpot, I had six flatmates and they seemed like lovely people and the flat next door where also keen to join in. I’m in my third year now and can confirm that two of the guys from my flat and the flat next door have become my best friends. We all went out for every night of fresher’s week and many nights for the next few weeks after that, I can’t remember specifically if it was at the end of fresher’s week or sometime the week after that things became a little strange. I’ve had what I now know to have been small episodes of depression before, but what hit me in those first few weeks was something very new to me. During college I had self-harmed, not majorly or very often, just small scratches in places usually well hidden. It’s not that I wasn’t happy, I was, I loved my college years and I think back on them as the greatest years of my life so far. This episode that hit me early in first year made me long to hurt myself like nothing else. So I did. I’d go on a night out, have a good time and then return to my room and pull out my pen knife and cut across my wrist. The reason why was quite terrifying for me, it is a fairly long story but I feel the need to explain it all so please bear with it. When I finished secondary school I got my first major taste of how cruel life could be, I’d just finished my year 11 exams and felt positively about how I’d done in them, I was looking forward to the summer ahead in which I was going to a music festival with a huge group of friends and my then girlfriend, I was also going away on holiday with ‘the lads’ and looking forward to many parties followed by the exciting prospect of starting college. It was just a few days before the festival and a day or two after my final exam that my parents broke the news to me that my mum had been diagnosed with breast cancer and would be going to hospital whilst I was away on my lads holiday. I can’t explain the feeling that came over me the evening I found out. I did what I often do when I felt down and went for a walk, I’m lucky to live in the middle of the countryside surrounded by farmland, forests and rivers, it was on this walk that I made the realisation that I believe triggered my first episode of depression and has never quite let me free ever since. My mum’s cancer was my fault. This sounds impossible I know and I am also aware that there is no way that what I’m about to say makes it my fault but I still blame myself. A few months before the news about my mum I liked school very much and had a number of great friends but I just existed in that school, I wanted to stand out, be more noticeable or special in some way, maybe in a way that made me more interesting. Then I considered that if something horrible happened to me, or my family, like it does in many films, there would be a happy ending for me as those people in films always go through something terrible and end up being noticed. I was instantly ashamed by this thought, I wouldn’t dream of seeing anyone I love suffer, having now had therapy I’ve been told passing thoughts like this aren’t unnatural. But anyway, I blamed myself and that’s a lot to carry. Importantly, my mum pulled through and has regular check-ups and passes clear every time but that summer was a lonely time, I wasn’t myself at the festival, lost my girlfriend but managed to hold it together for the holiday with my friends. The rest of the summer I isolated myself, for some reason I couldn’t tell my friends what had happened and rather than pretending to be happy and listening to their petty troubles I kept it all to myself. When I got back from my holiday and my mum was in hospital I’d sneak out of my house in the middle of the night, walk through fields in pitch black and lie down under the stars, it was my first taste of true loneliness. During that time and throughout college I had some nightmares of myself with cancer, I’d dream about staring at myself in a mirror, just a few strands of hair left on my head, skin grey and clinging to my thin and fragile body, eyes empty and as grey as my skin. This is the image that came to life when I started uni and it drove me mad. Instead it wasn’t just there in my dreams; I could see it, this ghostly image of myself right before my eyes everywhere I went. It brought back the guilt of my mum’s cancer and made me feel even more guilty thinking I was more worried for me than her, and so I hurt myself, several times. One night, when completely drunk, a flat mate of mine noticed my wrist and had a chat with me, as drunk as I was I let her into a few details and so she took my pen knife and I promised I wouldn’t hurt myself again, the second she left my room I put my fist through a photo frame smashing the glass and tearing up my knuckles, I then grabbed a shard and drove it into my wrist. For one of the first times in years I cried properly, scared of what had happened to me, convinced it wouldn’t end and seeing no solution. I had barely cried when I had found out about my mother, my grief was real but crying wasn’t my solution, that night at uni was terrifying. The next night we went out again and someone had heard that there was a great view of the city at the top of a public car park, so after the club we went up there, I strolled around the edge of the roof by myself and leant over the edge and looked at the drop to the solid tarmac below, I don’t think I need to specify the thought that went through my mind at that moment and, admittedly being drunk didn’t help, but I don’t think I’ve even admitted to myself how close I came to doing the last thing I would have ever done in my life that night. That night I cried again, all night, I spent the next few days alone and knew things had to change. Eventually they did, they improved a bit, truthfully I think I’ve just learnt to live with the thoughts I have.

When university itself started it certainly wasn’t what I thought it would be, I find it very difficult to explain this because I didn’t have a specific idea of what uni would be like in the first place. In a way it just felt no different to me than college, work was presented on presentations and the lecturers would talk about it in more detail than was shown on screen. Assignments were just longer versions of essays I’d already written at college and field trips were managed by staff with clip boards and registers like I’d seen through my whole life. What I’m saying is university itself disappointed me; you’re not treated like an adult any more than a college student is. Obviously the living situation is completely different to what most teenagers have ever experienced, living with people your age, buying your own food and doing everything for yourself came as a bit of a shock to me as I’m sure it does to all first year students.

By Christmas time I realised that university wasn’t making me happy and I really didn’t enjoy my course at all, my attendance was incredibly low because my sleeping pattern was completely ruined and my depression kept me locked in my room and in my bed for hours each day. If you’ve had depression you might understand what I’m saying, everyone’s depression is different but it’s more incapacitating than I could ever explain. It appears as pure laziness but it feels like you’re not in control of your own actions, you wake up in the middle of the day and even if you’re in pain from hunger, desperately thirsty and keen to get up and make something of the day it’s the one thing you can’t seem to do. It’s not like I spent this time on my phone or watching TV, I simply lay there, alone with my own thoughts, listening in on the sounds of the city and envying the lives of those who occupy it with me. Depression is draining, you feel tired despite doing nothing and the thoughts that pass through your mind are truly horrible. I can’t remember a day when a thought hasn’t gone through my head telling myself that I’m useless, worthless, ugly, horrible, boring, and selfish or a day I’ve not felt numb, cold, frustrated, despaired, overwhelmed and empty.

I went through the early stages of dropping out of university and by February was almost a signature away from doing so, not that I’d told my parents anything. The day I went in to uni to make the final decision a rainbow shone over my university building and something felt different that day, a positivity I’d almost forgotten was possible and in that moment something made me stay, at least until the end of the year to give me a chance to discuss it with my parents and let myself get into a better state of mind to make a better decision. So I stayed, passed all my assignments and exams (just), spoke to my parents over Easter (who certainly weren’t pleased) and got ready and excited to be home for the summer. Again something had to go wrong.

I was unwell for a few days before I went home at the end of first year, it was getting progressively worse and by the time my parents came to collect me I wasn’t in a good state. The next day, back at home I went to the doctors who, after a few tests, told me I needed to go to hospital very soon as my right kidney simply wasn’t functioning properly. I spent a terrifying five nights in hospital during which many tests were carried out to specify the cause of my problem, they couldn’t find one from the basic tests and so I convinced myself my nightmare had come true, that I had kidney cancer and soon the ghostly image of myself would become a reality. However I improved, and when I was told I was fine and certainly well enough to go home I was delighted. The pain persisted over that summer so my cancer doubts took months to fade. But it was my time in hospital where I had a weird sort of epiphany that I should continue with university, things could be a lot worse clearly, besides I had no backup plan and no job I wanted to dive straight in to.

Coming out of hospital I had new lease of life, I found enjoyment in so many things that normally go unnoticed, the warmth of the sun, the simple beauty of green fields and blue sky and the sound of birds. I started running and cycling, worked every day I could and I met up with my friends and girlfriend at every opportunity I got. I prayed that things would stay so sweet and I did manage to sustain the optimism into the start of my second year. I arrived at our lovely new house and tried to continue being healthy and happy. I ate well, joined a gym, slept and woke up at regular times and attended almost every lecture and seminar, which was a huge improvement for me. Things were going well and carried on like this for a few months, and although the content of my course still wasn’t exactly lighting my fire I knew that I was getting enough enjoyment out of my life to carry on and get through it successfully. It was then that I was reminded that life could be cruel, not that it was clear how cruel it was being for quite a while, but it turned out that everything was about to change.

I was ten minutes into a lecture and a horrible sensation came over me, light headed, heart pounding, shaking and a feeling of incredibly intense sickness that started in the pit of my stomach and quickly grew, occupying my entire abdomen and then pushed up my throat as if I was going to throw up, I stood up, pushed past people to get to the isle and ran up the steps and out of the lecture doors straight to the toilet where, to my shock I wasn’t actually sick. Being sick has never bothered me at all, apologies for the details but I’ve made myself be sick before when it needed to be done. Confused, still feeling very sick, I stayed in the toilet until the lecture was over, and not wanting to make a scene walking back into the lecture, let alone possibly having to walk out again. Afterwards, my friend brought out my things for me, and I went home, deciding to miss the next lecture and get into bed as clearly I had some kind of bug. I can’t remember specifically what order it happened in, but this feeling of sickness or feelings similar began spreading to other aspects of my life, eating out, the gym, any shop I went to, the cinema, pubs. Everything. This happened over a period of a few months, firstly it occurred in all lectures and by January I practically gave up going, it wasn’t worth putting myself through, I wasn’t paying attention if I managed to stay in the lecture and every time it happened I just felt crap in every way for the rest of the day.

During this time I had another cancer scare, feeling generally unwell for weeks, I’d had a cough for months, I got easily out of breath, felt continually tired and a pain had developed in my shoulder. Rule number one of any illness should be to never search for your symptoms online but stupidly I did and everything I was experiencing seemed to correlate with lung cancer. I was a heavy smoker throughout my first year at uni but had quit shortly into second year so with this history I was only more convinced that once again I was on the path to the ghostly figure of myself I’ve long feared. I went to the doctors and he practically laughed at me when I asked if I may have lung cancer, a response that didn’t fully convince me but certainly made me realise I’m far too hasty to make assumptions. It was then he asked if I had any other issues with my health and I mentioned the sickness feeling I was experiencing in an ever increasing number of situations. It was then I was referred to a mental health professional, deep down I had already figured out this was what was going on with me. The wait to be seen was long as the waiting list to see any mental health worker in this country always seems to be. But to cut a long story short by the time my meeting with her came around I was already aware of what she was going to tell me, I have developed some quite severe form of anxiety and of course there is the depression alongside that. No offence to her but she wasn’t much help, she wasn’t trained for therapy and the waiting list for CBT on the NHS was at least 9 months. Apart from signing me up to an online course there wasn’t a lot that she could do for me, especially with second year only having a few months left.

I slipped back into my old ways, sleep didn’t come easily to me so my sleeping pattern was destroyed I didn’t eat particularly healthily and certainly not regularly. I don’t know if I’m alone in this way but I have an ability to completely hide what I’m going through from others, I could be lying in my room blankly staring at my TV with no hopes of achieving anything that day and then someone could walk into my room and I’d chat enthusiastically and laugh and smile, then they’d leave my room and my face would drop and I’d sink back down into my bed and hide from the world around me. The scary thing is I’m not sure if any of that laughter and smiling was ever real. Near the end of second year I was virtually incapable of eating out, could barely enter any kind of shop without walking out feeling sick, hadn’t been to a lecture or the gym in months or really done anything. There was a month without lectures (not that I was going) at the end of the year where things did improve a little, I forced myself to do a few things like join my friends at the pub and go into shops. I got my assignments done but unfortunately had an exam coming up, I hadn’t tried to get help from university for my problems which was stupid as I could’ve got deadline extensions and possibly a different style of exam. The night before my exam I felt as sick as I ever had and didn’t sleep for one second. Not a problem I’ve ever had before, people used to tell me I was way too relaxed about exams in previous years. I was seated at the very back of the exam hall which helped for some reason as I felt if I had to leave I could do so more inconspicuously. The exam was just an hour long and when writing I was slightly distracted from the feeling I was imminently about to throw up. When the exam was over I had a feeling of pride, I’d done it, if I could get through that surely I can conquer the feeling altogether in all aspects of my life.

A week later came the thing I’d been dreading the most, a week long field trip to the Czech Republic. Once again I didn’t sleep at all the night before but in the morning I felt a bit better, I was okay on the day of travelling which included long coach journeys, the airport and being on the plane itself, all things I had assumed would really be a problem for me, the night we arrived I even at some food in the hall with everyone else on my course. I couldn’t believe how well it was going, the next morning I ate breakfast in the hall again along with everyone else and almost felt excited for the next five days. Then we all had to sit and listen to a lecturer walk us through the details of the days excursions, five minutes in the feeling that I was going to be sick came out of nowhere and felt so incredibly real once again I couldn’t resist getting out of that room. Rather than walk you through all the details I can confirm that I didn’t stop feeling sick for a significant amount of time at all for the entire week. I assumed I must surely be genuinely ill; normally I could eventually get comfortable in situations to the point where I could just about manage. However, as soon as we got home and I had a meal in my own house I felt fine. That week in the Czech Republic my anxiety meant I missed out on all of the education each day and all of the fun in the evenings, I barely ate, barely slept and felt utterly miserable. I never knew that it was possible for anxiety to take hold of someone for an entire week, this sent me to the worst point my anxiety has ever been. I couldn’t do anything, I was going home for summer soon and hoped that wouldn’t be so bad as anxiety wasn’t something I associated with life at home but within days it was clear I was wrong. If I was in my girlfriend’s house and one of her parents came to stand in her bedroom door to have a chat I’d feel sick, feel trapped and helpless. We went into town to go shopping and I felt sick before we’d even left the house, I couldn’t go into the smallest shop without feeling sick. I couldn’t eat at my own dinner table if my parents had friends over.

This is what university has done to me, I’m not saying it’s fully universities fault as clearly this isn’t a problem faced by most students but certainly the whole university environment had something to do with it. In school and college I was never the most popular but I was always up for doing anything, especially if it was a laugh, I wasn’t afraid to make a fool of myself in front of people. I could make jokes in class and talk to anyone, go anywhere even if I knew nobody, now I can’t even go to a small and quiet pub with my friends.

As I said, I’m in my third year now, wishing I could go back in time and drop out half way through first year to potentially avoid any of this anxiety rubbish. I haven’t fully enjoyed anything I’ve done for almost an entire year now as I’ve either had a full on anxiety attack, mild panic feeling or I’ve at least had it nagging away in my mind, never letting me be free. It controlled me completely for a little while, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully free. I told my parents about my anxiety early during the summer, they were great and got me to go to a therapist and I made real improvement over the summer, I could go and eat in certain small places, go into shops and pubs and never feel fine but I could usually cope, as great as this is as I’ve missed it so much it’s so far from where I want to be. For the majority of the summer I was quite positive, getting to do things again was great and I got back into routines. I returned to uni in quite high spirits, after everything I’ve started to overcome maybe I can get through this year reasonably well. Lectures have been running almost 2 months and I’m afraid to say I haven’t attended a single one. I really did try, but I’ve never even got past the door. I’m just living with one other person, my best friend, who is very motivated for his course and spends much of his time on his work, I don’t blame him for this at all, it’s just a shame as it leaves me with many hours spent alone each day. I’m feeling very low, thankfully I’ve gained the strength not to hurt myself despite quite a strong longing to do so sometimes. But the scars on my wrist will be a constant reminder throughout my whole life that I didn’t always have this strength and that I do have the ability to hurt myself. The main reason I refuse to do it again isn’t for me, it’s for others, hardly anyone has spotted my scars as I’m incredibly careful but those who have are more hurt by them than I ever was, and hurting other people only makes me feel worse about myself.

Why do I feel so bad about myself I’ve been asked? I’m spending £9,000 a year on uni fees to stay in my room and do nothing, I’ve received lots of help now and haven’t really made much important progress, so I’ve let the people who have tried helping me down, including my parents who paid for my therapy at home. I feel like somehow I brought all of this upon myself, it took me a while to figure out how, but during my therapy over summer I was subjected to some hypnotherapy where my counsellor tried to make contact with my subconscious thoughts, ultimately she was trying to figure out what caused all of this, when speaking to me there was supposed to be a voice in my head telling me the answers to her questions. No matter what she asked me or said to me all that little voice in my head ever said was “because you deserve this”. Why I subconsciously think I deserve to suffer in this way I’m not entirely sure but I assume it’s punishment for my mums cancer which I hold responsibility for and seeing as I don’t have cancer myself, despite my regular scares, this is the format of punishment I’m getting.

One of the most annoying parts about my anxiety is that I know I’m not going to be sick, of the dozens of times I’ve had the feeling I’ve never been sick, so people have said to me well if you know you’re not going to be sick what’s the problem? Well the problem is they’ll never understand quite how horrible the feeling is and the body and the brains instincts when you feel like you’re imminently about to throw up is to get out of there. Besides it’s not just the sickness, it’s the racing heartbeat, the sweating, the shivering, the light headedness and the ringing in my ears that make it all the more difficult.

Undoubtedly though what scares me most is the thought that I may never get the old me back. I don’t believe I’ll ever completely budge my depression, but right now I would do anything just to be free from my anxiety. When it was just depression I could go out and get some relief from it, escape from it even if just briefly and came in waves meaning there were times I was free. My anxiety hasn’t loosened its hold for one second since it became severe.

#depression #anxiety #mental health #mental illness

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ladyeleanorfortescue · 5 years

Text

Flashback

Evening, September 2nd 1809

Mary was now Baroness Killenaigh. She was shipped off to Gloucestershire, not even a true honeymoon to look forward to, for the husband would not risk it amidst the war and with his age. Eleanor thought of Miss Fenella Stuart back in Tyrehampton, who had married an older man, too, but had been gifted a voyage around the most mystical places... But Mary was not Fenella. Mary found little joy in life. Mary did what was asked of her. Mary settled for the future their parents had planned. Eleanor... She did too, she supposed... And that notion had her stomach on the tightest knot it had ever been in. What was silent rebellion worth? Not a penny... But did she have the guts to voice it? And lose it all?

"Eleanor, do you truly despise Baron Killenaigh so much?" Anne asked as they went into the room she had shared with Mary, pulling her sister out of her thoughts, "You do not even know him."

Eleanor sighed, letting herself fall on Anne's bed. Her sister did not understand, it was not the groom that made her unhappy.

"No, Annie," her sad eyes gazing intently at the ceiling. "I despise a marriage without affection. Without love. A marriage of convenience... Mary might not mind, but I do. And you must too, do you not? Alas! We, too, shall be forced into them!"

"Ellie, Mary has not been forced. And you know very well affection can come after taking the vows..." the fragile Fortescue tried to reason with Eleanor as she sat on a corner of the bed.

"And what if it does not?" the wretched lady did not move but her eyes found her sister's.

Silence. Anne was searching for the words to reply when her sister broke it.

"What if one's affection is already elsewhere?"

"Perhaps one could marry that elsewhere," the elder joked lightly.

"Oh, Anne, if only it were all that simple!" Eleanor's despairing hands came to her face, "What if elsewhere had no fortune? And no title? What if elsewhere was everything our parents, society, would disapprove of?" she propped herself up on her elbows, her expression contorted with sadness and worry. She had thought herself so bold while away… Now, her braveness was outnumbered, harassed.

Anne began to understand. Her sister had been behaving strangely ever since she had arrived in London and it was clear now the only cause had not been the wedding. Had Eleanor given her heart away? What exactly had happened? She feared the worst and had to muster the courage to dare ask…

"Is elsewhere somewhere?" her tone was soft, shy. She had always thought Eleanor too quick to trust, too quick to love... She did not think it the fatal flaw the rest of the family did, but it was certainly a dangerous thing. And how afflicted she was! Something serious certainly had come to pass...

"Yes," was all the reply Anne received before Eleanor plunged back into the mattress. The younger girl would have started crying if had she not shed all the tears in her system already, bitter resignation clouding her judgement.

Silence. Again. Anne did not know what to say. She had little experience with the world, with people, with men... She was curious about love, but sensible enough to know it forbidden. And where could she come across it anyway? An invalid, locked up in a room most of the time...

"Can I know his name?" Anne asked. It was by far the less intruding of the questions cluttering her throat.

Ellie hesitated. Speaking it out loud…

"Jack..." she revealed after a moment's thought, her hand moving up to the fine silver chain hanging down her neck.

A Christian name. No last name or preceding title... Eleanor had already revealed he was no man of fortune, it was not that the reason why Anne's face contorted in worry, but the realization of the importance of it all. Had Eleanor already taken such liberties? Established such a confidential and perilous attachment?

"Ellie..." Anne began, but whatever she intended to say was lost forever when she was abruptly cut off.

"I know what you will say. Exactly what Verity said the first time I told her of it... What I thought."

Anne looked at her sister, surprised. She felt hurt and displaced at finding out Miss Hawkins had known before her... But she also understood Verity had been there, at hand's reach, and she had not.

Eleanor did not seem to notice anything, absorbed as she was by her own feelings. The usual.

"But I do not want to hear it, Anne. It is over. Do you hear me? We... We know it is impossible... We know it is more trouble than it is worth..." Except it was not. Eleanor was each day more certain that she would throw it all away for a mere second at his side. And since that last meeting she had been harbouring the intention of doing so if he allowed… She was essentially lying to Anne, pretending there was nothing to be concerned of… She pressed her lips together, tears dwindling from her lashes. "We said our goodbyes. You do not have to worry... I am not ruined, you see? No need to tell mother." She tried to joke, but it did not come out right. And tears slipped down her cheeks. "It is over, but that does not mean I cannot dream... "

Anne did not know what to believe. And her heart felt a pang at the miserable sight of her sister's suffering.

"Was it this?" Anne said, composed but tremendously concerned. "Why you cried before? When you left London?"

"No," Eleanor sobbed and sat up, "No, back then I could not even imagine- I- He-

Annie studied her intently as she seemed to tidy her thoughts.

"My friend, Sir Percy Blackmore," Eleanor continued, "My tears were for him. He… passed away, as you know... And it broke my heart. He was... So very kind. And so very young!"

Anne wondered what hid behind Eleanor's words, how could she had possibly been so afflicted by the death of someone she had known but a month or so? Her pain back then had not resembled the pain she was usually assaulted with when hearing of the misfortunes of a brief acquaintance. Anne had then suspected it to be an affair of the heart... And she had not been completely wrong, for so it had been. But in Eleanor's eyes, mistakenly so. And it pained her. For she had not known herself or her feelings. And because there was a witness to her foolishness... One that, now, had been the beholder of her feverish passions twice. One she feared thought her inconstant and deluded... Of course the witness in question was Miss Verity Hawkins.

"And I do not- I was not in love with him," Eleanor assured Anne, wiping tears away from her eyes, her cheeks growing scarlett. "Although I then believed so. I... I suppose I could have come to love him... But I do not think he could have come to love me. And... Oh, it is no use wondering what might have been... He is... dead..." Although she had not really been enamoured with him, she still esteemed him greatly and it was hard to speak of his disappearance from the earthly plane. "And my heart is elsewhere now..."

Surely if Eleanor had had a change of heart before, she could have one again, Anne thought, mistaking her for the feeble, forgetful creature Eleanor herself feared to appear as. But it was not so. Eleanor's affections were not fleeting... She was quick to trust, but never quick to forget... Every person she encountered left an imprint on her soul. But her soul had never been touched in such a manner before and of that she was certain as she was certain the sun rose in the East...

"But it shall return to you," Lady Anne determined, earning a stern look from her younger sister. "If it is over, surely he cannot keep it forever..."

"And what do you know, Anne?!" outraged, the younger girl rose to her feet. "He can keep it for as long as I wish him to! But I suppose you would not understand, you are just like the rest of them!" She spat. "Mother! Hester! Hugh! And now Mary! Joined in holy matrimony for the sake of duty! Of advancement! Of nothing better to do! Unfeeling, insensitive beings! They would dismiss love if it came knocking on their door as they would do a poor peddler! But I thought you to be different! I thought you were like George and I! I thought you would understand."

"How can I understand you, Eleanor, if you do not talk to me?" Anne's eyes were stinging, her pale countenance barely coloured by ache.

"And how can I talk to you when you think so badly of me?!"

Her sharp tone, her words made her head hurt, made her fingers tingle… Anne closed her eyes for a moment, pride keeping her from showing weakness.

"I? Think badly of you?" she muttered, trying to focus on the face of the upset young woman. "I have lent you my ears for you to flood them with your troubles for years!"

"Well, then you must not be a very good listener! For you do not know me at all! Your ears may be up for lease, but my heart is not!" Eleanor cried, turning her back to Anne, to her subtle, unspoken accusations. And to the very possibility of them level pegging with the truth.

"I never said…" Anne winced, bringing a hand to her forehead.

And, for the third time: Silence. A silence that unnerved distraught Eleanor, who still had many frustrations to take out on her poor innocent sister.

"What? You never said what?" she turned back to face Anne, but found her in such a deplorable state that guilt immediately settled on her being. "Anne? " she asked in a distressed tone, the fire well put out, as she neared her, regret already eating her out… "Anne," she insisted when she received no reply but a barely audible grunt, "Anne, is it happening again?" Eleanor took her hand, "Annie, Annie, lay down, lay down," said she as she helped her do so. When nervous or afflicted, she had the annoying habit of repeating everything twice. "I shall go get Verity! She will make you some tea-"

"No," Anne muttered, grabbing feebly onto her sister's arm. "I am all right," the poor, frail girl, unable to hold a grudge for long mumbled, her eyelids fluttering open to prove it. And it was no lie… That was a trifle compared to the actual episodes. "I am simply tired… Do not bring Miss Hawkins,"

"Are you sure? Oh, Anne, if you feel so terribly unwell-

"I do not."

"But I gave you cause for distress, I am so sorry!" Ellie leaned onto her sister's arm, "I take it back, I take it back! I am so sorry, so sorry, forgive me!"

"I shall if you stop screaming…" Annie tried to joke, but her eyes flickered shut as sharp pain shot through her head.

"Annie, please! Verity could he-

"Eleanor, do not disturb Miss Hawkins on my account. I am perfectly fine. If you do wish to disturb someone, let it be Hannah," the elder girl said as she felt for her pulse in her wrist, quite convinced she would not pass out.

"Hannah? What does Hannah know of your treatment?"

"I do not wish to be treated, Ellie, I wish to go to bed," and she was quite resolved to do it. "It has been a long day, I have exhausted myself beyond my possibilities… Call Hannah to help me prepare for bed."

"Oh… Very well. But I shall come and check on you every hour!" Eleanor, the picture of culpability, swore.

"As long as you do not wake me," Annie said, knowing full well the promise would not be brought to fruition.

"I shan't," the words were solemnly delivered and, with a gentle squeeze of her sister's hand, Eleanor went out the room.

#Story #Flashback #Anne Fortescue #Ellie & Annie

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