#because i haven't been able to work through all those feelings and losses and endless fucking grief

[leighlew3]

Leigh, I'm so sorry to burden you with this, but I've followed you for a few years and witnessed how supportive you've been with SuperCorp fans and the shared disappointment with how the show ended, so I feel safe writing to you.

All the WLW shows getting cancelled fucking sucks. And it hurts. Not because I've necessarily been a big fan of them all, but simply because my voice and story, as a consumer and queer woman, doesn't feel valued.

When I heard Netflix cancelled Warrior Nun, I got angry, and I've been so ever since. It somehow hit different this time, and the cancellation doesn't make sense to me. I've loved the show since its first day on Netflix in 2020. I fell in love with the characters and the actors who portrayed them. I fell in love with the story they were telling and how it was told. Something about Warrior Nun just felt different to me.

Now it's almost 7 in the morning where I live, and I haven't been able to sleep. I was reading a Warrior Nun fic - as one does - and then all the feelings suddenly hit me. Angry turned into sad, and I feel sort of silly for admitting this, but I actually cried. I read somewhere that the brain can't differentiate real people from fictional ones, and I think I'm kind of mourning the loss of the characters 🤷🏻‍♀️ I've never felt this way before and I honestly don't know what to do about it. The whole situation just sucks.

Do you have any advice on how the consumers can be heard by big companies like Netflix and how we can get them to actually value their WLW shows?

Again, I'm sorry to lay this on you, but I don't really have anyone to talk to about this, and I'm just sick and tired of the situation and needed to rant.

(I appreciate you and wish you and your loved ones a happy new year)

It's not a burden at all, I'm glad you feel this is a safe space. 💜

Everything you're saying is relatable and valid as heck. When a show means the world to you, especially if you're part of a marginalized group and taking hit after hit after hit no less... it can be exhausting, infuriating, demoralizing, and so many other complicated emotions when you lose that art that struck you so deeply, that you related to, and that you looked forward to more of to get you through life.

To be honest, I feel like for the most part, fans are doing as best they can as far as efforts to keep shows around. There really are no more tangible specific solutions for fans aside from what's being done, and that's what's frustrating. The endless rewatches, fans doing street team style spreading the word on their own (even spending a lot of money) to make up for lack of official marketing, getting influencers and press behind them, etc. It's actually a sad state of affairs that in recent years, LGBTQ fans have WORK, and FIGHT and PUSH and even PAY constantly to keep a wlw show on the air or to try to get someone to make a ship canon after queerbaiting, or to get more screen time or respectful exploration for a wlw pairing, or to make TPTB see how bad the bury your gays trope is (time and again and again), etc -- rather than just sit back and watch and enjoy.

Fans shouldn't have to work so hard for entertainment, and yet queer fans so often do. And even when people successfully give a show solid numbers, sometimes it's still not enough, and like WN, a well-reviewed, heavily watched series gets the axe anyway.

So it's not on the fans. It's on those at the top, at the end of the day.

Alas, if I had to make some kind of a suggestion... all I can think to say is on the macro, bigger picture level. And this will take some self reflection and increased empathy for some people (sadly a thing some may not be capable of). But... collectively, some people in fandom spaces (small portions, but loud ones) for wlw shows have got to try to stop the silly fanon vs canon wars, and gatekeeping, and jealousies, and creating unnecessary drama and toxicity. There really should be no rival fandoms in wlw spaces at all, unless a show has a fully wlw love triangle or something and people are Team Ship 1 vs Team Ship 2, lol, but even still -- it should be a 'fun' battle, not a toxic war that hurts real people, drives away viewership, etc.

If most people in queer fandoms stuck together, and respected each other's ships even if they don't ship it or watch the show, and generally were supportive of each other as fellow queer fans in their battles against cancellations, in demanding queerbait to be made canon, fighting the BYG trope, etc -- LGBTQ fandoms would have such a collective, expanded power behind these positive efforts. And either way, even if all efforts fail to save a show, etc, at the very least, it would help create a safer, healthier space for queer fans online.

And I know, asking toxic people to not be toxic seems futile, but some people simply need to be reminded that we're all in this together and working together is always going to be ideal when facing off against the real opposition: corporate bias / phobia in the media / industry space.

Ultimately, it's 100% on TPTB at the shows and networks/streamers/studios to do better -- at times creatively, and other times as far as marketing efforts. Sometimes both.

But in the meantime, as far as fandom spaces, some LGBTQ fans gotta try to learn to stick together as much as possible. While there will ALWAYS be toxicity in every fandom from all backgrounds, and fans cannot control each other, I am noticing that as time goes on, and as more wlw fandoms get hurt by networks and streamers, the more angry people are understandably getting, the more reactive and protective of their shows and ships people are getting, and the more then they lash out and try to gatekeep and attack their fellow queer fans and allies, which is... just not it. It's counter productive.

Point is... fans are doing all they can IMO as far as tangible efforts to save (or fix) certain shows. And the rest is on the creatives, the networks and streamers, etc. But in the meantime, at the very least, people shouldn't attack true allies who have proven their support, nor especially attack fellow queer fans who just want to see what a show or ship is about or make positive parallels to their other faves, etc as it could be extra viewers for the show that they're running off.

TLDR: Stay focused on the real problem: corporate media's bias / phobia. Fight them collectively, not each other.

[my-forgotten-notepad]

The Mountain

Life is conflict and struggle; from within the heart and mind and how one perceives themselves in all manners and forms, to the wider world around them and how everyone views them. Accolades, achievements, masteries, skills, abilities and legacy; the bedrock and the fixtures of all Mankind, anyone without even a single thing in any of those categories has failed as a person. Leading many to collapse under the weight of trying to fill the void within themselves, even causing a great many more to destroy themselves in one way or another to find that one thing, that one success they can hold as their magnum opus and be proud of themselves. Many devolve into just their work or coping mechanisms to try and soothe the surging waves of anxiety and depression, but even that approach only works for a time; as those coping mechanisms just leave many even more hollow and empty inside.

It is a sad thing to know that I am embroiled deeply within this struggle; I feel empty and alone and disconnected from myself and the world, I have struggled to find something to be proud of myself for. For years I have fought within myself to find something, anything to love about myself; I still have days where I cannot find anything to soothe myself. But, those are my bad days; on my best days I can find my endurance and imagination, Endurance to handle the internal stress within myself and the external stress of job pressure and anxiety and hoping I can one day live comfortably one day. I just haven't been able to cling onto something outside of my thoughts and emotions to find pride in, to be content and happy with. Trying to find external happiness truly feels like marching and clawing my way up a never-ending mountain.

Most of my days, all of my struggles and anxieties makes it feel like I was clinging onto the side of a mountain shrouded in pitch-black clouds that stretched from horizon to horizon; with no safe harbour or comfort in sight. the winds whipped around me so savagely, buffeting against my body and sending a frigid cold all the down into my bones. The grass and mud kept getting stuck to my hands and feet as I climbed my way across the slopes and footfalls of the mountain. Every last one of my actions was driven by singular desire. “Reach the summit. All of this will mean something; make sense once I am at the summit.” Because if I stopped, if I gave in; I'd never achieve anything, my worst actions would become the foundation of my history, my legacy; the total sum of everything my parents gave me in hopes of reaching higher than they ever did.

I would be a liar if I said I maintained my health throughout this process; through this metaphorical representation of labour and loss; I ignored the aches in the palms of my mind and my body, much in the same way a climber ignores cuts and scrapes on the hands, arms and legs in hopes of getting even just a little bit farther. I pushed it all out of my mind as I felt the hunger to achieve my goal burn fiercely within and every other concern faded from my mind. “Nothing else is real… Only the climb, only the summit; that’s all that matters. The goal guides me; the climb strengthens me and the summit will grant release and clarity.”

But I cannot lie to myself and say I never stopped climbing, that I was always driven to conquer the proverbial mountain and achieve an enduring and ever-lasting achievement I could hold before and above myself; for all others to see and bare witness to. Because the mountain felt endless and harsh and the more I climbed upon it, the harsher and unforgiving the mountain would become. I have been scared and thought that I am too weak, too slow and frail, too cowardly and untalented to ever make it to the summit of this mountain; of my mountain. To get so far and never find true peace. So, I try to force those thoughts to the back of my mind and continue to climb; I have to be able to reach the summit, I have to be able to achieve this. Otherwise… otherwise it would have all been a waste of my dreams.

Now I am here, still clinging to the mountain and I still endure the storms and the freezing winds and the pains in my flesh and bones; I don't know if I am still climbing to conquer the mountain, or if I am just looking for a dry plateau to rest upon. Can I find something to immortalise myself with; even if that immortalisation is just within my wider family? Or is it just better to provide a better starting point for the next generation? Maybe they will be the ones to climb to the summit; to become immortalised by their talents, skills and achievements. So, I stop climbing; I simply rest my body on the wet grass of the mountain side and I gaze out into the storms around me and I idly fidget with a stone as words just spill from my mouth.

“I don’t think there is a summit; not here, not in this tale. This all just some complicated metaphor; for suffering, perfectionism and obsessive compulsions to rise above it all. Because I’m afraid of being worthless, beneath notice and something my parents sorely regret.” After a moment of silence, I throw the stone over the edge over the edge and into the rolling storm and deeply sigh. “All I can hope for is to one day find a dream, to struggle for it, to fight for it.” He spoke to the empty wilderness. “I… I hope to one day look upon my life and smile; to know that I lived happily.” I lay back down on the grass as I watch the sun set below the horizon and whisper to myself.

“I just want to be something my parents can be proud of.”

[alyxeris]

it's been a long time. for the first time in, well, a couple years i have some free time to myself. i’m listening to old dirty bourbon river show songs, back when charlie was still with them and it had some real bittersweet soul. just generally feeling pretty introspective and sentimental. i’m not looking at the clock. i’m not counting down the hours and minutes until that email comes in because i don’t really mind either way what it says. i have already lost so much to this crashing shitshow that has been the past couple of years. 

i’m having a hard time connecting to people. it feels so strange, like a fly futilely slamming into thick aquarium glass. i almost had an easier time talking to people when i was a heartbroken mess because i was trying so hard to put all the pieces back together i guess i just didn’t realize my communication was like throwing paper airplanes and hoping they landed where they were supposed to. i’m trying to fix the things that made me sad, trying to keep my head down and build some form of stability. i think i’m getting further and further out to sea though, and i can’t even see the lighthouse anymore.

i think i need to find joy in the drifting again. i haven’t felt joy much less hope in so long. i spent most of this godforsaken pandemic working at a healthcare clinic. it has perhaps irreparably harmed and traumatized me. the first bit of hope i felt in a long time was with the vaccines, but people’s ignorance and selfishness has circled us back into the same hopeless situation. i am disconnected from my community, from people, from friends, from my partner. switching jobs has made a lot of the seething rage subside, but now it’s all awash with melancholy. i’m not sure where the healing kicks in. 

everyone is dying around me, and i can’t do anything about it but grieve. freak accidents and a horrible, terrible unspeakable and senseless murder, and sickness, and age: so many people just disappearing. i am never going to get the feeling of my brother’s cold, dead hand off of my skin. it feels so permanently stained into my palm. different people, different last words exchanged. “you suck, but i love you”. “you’re doing a really good job”. calls never returned because there’s never enough time, and so, so much of my time has been stolen by this fucking pandemic. my time and my hope are gone. 

i sometimes worry i’ll never love people the same again. i’m hesitant now. i feel like if i don’t anchor myself then it won’t hurt as bad when they’re gone. i’ve always had commitment issues, but now i’m just afraid. maybe that’s the price of setting boundaries, you have to be able to drop people like they’re lead sometimes. you can’t be responsible for them. i don’t want to be responsible anymore. i don’t think i ever wanted to be, but there was no one else. i have spent so much time alone, why am i putting myself in a position to be lonely again now? why can’t i just talk and connect with people? build those tethers again for a little while to brave the rest of this absolute fucking hurricane.

[elminx]

A few notes on surviving tough Chiron times with an personal example

Since Chiron stationed retrograde yesterday, I want to talk some about the ways that its retrograde effect can show up in our lives. I'm going to use an easy and relatable experience from my own life this week as an example - remember that Chiron may show up in a similar or completely different way, depending on your own trauma.

Yesterday afternoon, my eleven-year-old cat went into the kitchen and proceeded to make the most horrible pained yowls while sitting underneath our kitchen table. She's a mouthy cat so her making noise is not unusual - but this is a very unusual noise. I thought that she was dying, or, at the least, that we were about to take a trip to the emergency vet. I called my partner, they came home, and she got up and acted excited to see him. Fucking cats.

(Sidenote: she does have a regular vet visit scheduled now as she was obviously exhibiting signs of being in pain - but she pooped the smelliest shit afterward and coughed up an eight-inch hairball in the middle of the night so I'm guessing she was in pain from that, better to be sure though)

The thing is, on December 2, 2010, my seemingly healthy five-year-old cat died at my feet. In minutes. There was no saving him. The vet said that he either had a heart attack or a brain aneurysm. In 2010, I was not the Minx that I am now. I had been repressing all of my emotions since I was a child (when I was taught to by my other who didn't want to handle having an emotional daughter). The cracks were starting to appear but I was still using disassociation as a primary means of coping with life.

Additionally, I worked as the Front End Supervisor for a major retailer and it was the middle of the Christmas season. That job wouldn't have given me time off to mourn a family member during the busy season, let alone a day or two to deal with the loss of a pet. I would have just been out of a job that my partner and I needed to pay our bills and keep ourselves afloat.

So I kept on going and I worked all the way through it - and I probably prided myself for not breaking down and being inconsolable about a very significant tragedy (he was a very special pet to me).

I'm very happy that my baby appears to be okay. We'll bring her in for a checkup (and she probably needs some teeth pulled, le sigh) but I think, given the circumstances, she is mostly fine now. But I've gained a lot of awareness in the last twelve years and once the immediate fear and reaction started to fade my immediate thought was: Minx, why did you think that you cat was going to die?

Sure, she was obviously in pain. And watching your pet in pain is really, really difficult because there's nothing that you can do about it. But she was alert and did not in any fashion act like my cat did when he was dying. That's when I realized how much pain I was still holding onto from that event.

That is what Chiron does - it highlights those old wounds that haven't been tended well enough to close over and heal. We all have them for one reason or another. Some of them which may never heal, no matter how much work we do.

Even so, Chiron teaches us that it pays to be aware of these forever (or very hard to heal) wounds. This is the basics of Chironic shadow work - not to endless return to things that will retraumatize us, but to know our own wounds well enough to know when something is triggering those wounds. To be able to separate the "then" from the "now". When you realize that what you're feeling is a reaction to something that happened in the past, you can put it down, and you can separate it from what is happening in the now.

I deeply understand that this is not easy work but if you have a strong Chiron aspect in your natal chart or you are going through a major Chiron transit, it is work that will likely be forced upon you, whether you are ready for it or not.

If this is you right now, here are some tips to help you through it:

Give yourself the space to feel your emotions and/or grieve. You can do this by yourself or with a trustest Other - whatever feels most right for you. If you need to, do this under the care of a professional therapist.

Remember that you are not your emotions. Emotions are feelings inside your body that are happening to you. You can just let them go and tell them to move the fuck on. Phrases like "I feel sad" help because you are acknowledging that your emotions are happening to you rather than over-identification of your emotions ("I AM sad").

The sign of your natal Chiron may give you some insight into how to disperse the energy/emotions that come up during a transit. Earthy Chiron natives tend to need to ground out their emotions, while watery types may need to use water to work through it, and so forth.

Use your best self-care techniques. For me, this includes nervine teas, rose quartz, and healthy whole foods. What does that mean to you?

Hydrate. Crying is dehydrating. Plus, water moves things through us - quite literally. This is especially important for people born with Chiron in a water sign.

Write it down to get it out of your head. You don't need to keep it or show it to anybody. Don't fuzz the details - write down the truth and the whole truth as you are seeing it/feeling it right now. Don't hold back. You can burn it afterward if you want to.

Chiron stations retrograde for a couple of months every year or so, so this transit is business as usual. That said, because of where it's sitting and its connection to other points in the natal chart that are very active now, we are all feeling it quite strongly this week. Its most affecting cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn) and fire signs (Leo, Sag) between 10-25 degrees for any personal planet. If that's you, know you are going through a Chiron transit currently and that the universe is encouraging you to level up your emotional processing skills.

You can always look at the type of aspect that it's making, and to what planet, for greater insight into how this journey is likely to play out in your own life right now. (I do this as part of my Transit Chart readings - available through my Ko-Fi site)

For the rest of us, the Chironic energy will wane as we move away from the date of its retrograde (7/19).

[samtheflamingomain]

25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[wr1t3-my-wr0ngs]

Remembering Yesterday's Tomorrow (In the Here and Now) - Part 5

-------------

The darkness stretches infinitely. Ahead of her, the only thing Ahsoka can see is the bright shape of Morai, the convor unfailingly flying forward, and the ever-constant blackness that presses in from all directions. And it does press like a physical weight —she can feel it on her skin, a cross between the atmosphere of a planet that has a different gravity, and being submitted in water.

She is viscerally reminded of her time spent in the World Between Worlds, where the rules of conventional gravity and time did not apply. But in comparison, this place feels wild, untouched. No paths of light or dancing stars or infinite doors mark the landscape. It hadn't occurred to her before now that the World Between that she had experienced with Ezra had been artificial, constructed by someone or some group to be just as much a part of the temple on Lothal as any other room or mural.

Walking through the endless void, it seems a little obvious in retrospect.

It's unclear how long she has been following her avian companion, concepts such as hours, minutes and seconds, have no use in this place. There is the sense that she has been walking for a while, but even that is only a vague notion that sits in the back of her mind like the dawning of an idea before it has coalesced. She only knows that she is not where she was when she set out, Rex's grave having disappeared from view almost as soon as she had decided to follow Morai.

Rex.

Her heart twists at the thought of him; the aching loss still too fresh to be touched without dredging up the pain. She touches it anyway; lets herself grieve without shame or obligation, remembering the joy along with the sorrow. His smile, hidden behind his beard, a little crooked and always so genuine; the sound of his voice as he sang in the shower, the embarrassed flush on his face when caught in the act, but willing to oblige with a song when asked; the way he never looked at her with resentment when she had to go and the overwhelming, pulsing, warm joy he broadcasted every time she returned, no matter how long she was away.

Deep inside, she wishes they had more time together, wishes that it hadn't taken so long for her to recognize that her feelings for the clone ran deeper than just friendship. Not the sweeping romantic feelings her old master harbored for his wife, or even the quiet longing between Obi-wan and Santine. It had taken her years to realize that she didn't have those sorts of inclinations and even longer to reconcile it with her ability and capacity to love. She's still not entirely sure she understands it herself but is forever grateful for Rex, who took the time to try and understand and learn, put in his share of effort to make things work between them.

A chirp from Morai brings her back to her surroundings, a little surprised to find that she had stopped walking at some point, her cheeks damp with tears. The bird hovers before her, head tilted with concern, and settles on Ahsoka's shoulder, nuzzling her beak against the Togrutas montral.

Despite herself, Ahsoka smiles and gently strokes the soft feathers before drying her eyes. Morai hoots once before taking off back into the dark, and Ahsoka, heart still full, follows.

---

To say that Anakin Skywalker is frustrated would be the understatement of the galaxy. It's been almost two weeks since Umbara, two weeks since he left his men in the hands of Krell, two weeks of his Captain being locked away for doing something Anakin does not, cannot fault him for. Just thinking about Krell brings a snarl to his face.

Good riddance, he thinks as he works on writing up his latest report, jamming the stylus too hard against the datapad screen. Not even the sun, shining brightly through the window by his desk, or the feeling of thousands of lifeforms in the force bustling around Coruscant, can lighten his mood.

Yes, Anakin Skywalker is frustrated and angry. Frustrated because Rex doesn't deserve to be kept as a prisoner, mad because he should have known. What good is being the kriffing chosen one if he can't spot a karking Sith Sympathiser when they are standing right in front of him?

All at once, the anger leaves him and is replaced, as it has been off and on since he got the news of Umbara, by the underlying guilt and shame. He should have been there, not flying back to Coruscant to take care of some whim of the Supreme Chancellors. 

For the first time in a long time, he resents his old friend. Rationally, he knows Palpatine must have thought he had a good reason, and that perhaps if it were anyone but Rex on the line, he would be able to forgive the older man after a few days. He knows he'll forgive his friend eventually; after all, it was an accident. It's not as if the old senator could have known Krell's true agenda.

But for now, Anakin is still mad. Because it's Rex, his second in command, one of the best damn soldiers he has ever known, and the missions haven't been the same without him, have practically ground to a halt in his absence. More than that, the Captain is one of the few people the Jedi truly considers as a friend.  Someone who doesn't give two shits about the so-called prophecy or his relationship to it, who has seen him at his most ridiculous and still respects him. Is one of the two people -not counting Padmé herself- that knows about his relationship with his wife.

And friends don't just let friends sit in a cell, waiting on either freedom or a death sentence.

A knock on the door pulls him from his reverie.

"Enter."

The door opens with a swish, revealing, to his surprise, Obi-Wan, dressed only in robes for a change, his chest plate and vambrace elsewhere for the time being, looking haggard.

Amusement briefly flickers across the old bond from his Master, before Obi-Wan slumps into the only other chair in the room.

Glad for the excuse to set aside his report, Anakin turns to face the bearded man.

"I didn't expect to see you planetside."

"I'm only here for your Captains Court Marshal. I thought it best if I gave my testimony in person rather then via holo-call. I ship back out to the front lines tomorrow."

Anakin scowls at the mention of the trial but quickly drops it with a sigh.

"Thank you."

Obi-Wan nods.

"He's a good man and doesn't deserve to be punished for his actions on Umbara."

The bearded Jedi pauses in the way that Anakin has come to know means that his former Master wants to say something, but isn't sure how to approach the topic.

"Have you spoken to him yet?"

Inwardly, Anakin curses himself. He thought he had control over his tumultuous emotions, tight enough that they wouldn't spill into the bond with his master and let Obi-Wan glimpse his rolling guilt and anger. Apparently, his control wasn't as good as he had thought.

"Not yet, " he responds truthfully, picking back up the half-finished report and feigning interest, hoping that the appearance of having work to do will discourage Obi-Wan from his line of questioning.

It seems to work, as his former Master goes silent for a few moments. Just when he thinks that Obi-Wan has dropped the topic and that it's safe to put down the report, the older Jedi speaks.

"I think you should visit him. I imagine that it's starting to get a little lonely and that a supportive face might do Rex some good."

To anyone who hadn't grown up under the tutelage of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the double meaning would be subtle, sounding like nothing more than concern for the Clone Captains well being. Anakin does not have that disadvantage, and catches what his Master isn't saying. How visiting Rex might do him some good too.

Anakin takes a moment to breathe deeply before looking at his Master, a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue about being coddled this late in his life, only to cut himself off. Obi-Wan looks tired. Shoulders slumped forward, and the young Jedi briefly wonders how much of his Master's posture in the battlefield is due to the confines of his chest plate and pauldrons enforcing the rigid set to his shoulders.

Gently he reaches out through their shared bond, taking the measure of the bearded man's intentions. He finds nothing malicious, only love and concern, and it feels to his mind, forever the product of a hot and sandy planet, like a cool blanket being draped around his shoulders after a day working in the suns.

"I'll visit him tomorrow."

Obi-Wan smiles, and Anakin finds himself smiling back. With that, the conversation drops into a lull, the two men chatting aimlessly about one thing and another, before eventually checking back around to Obi-Wans up coming mission.

"Where is the Council sending you off to this time?"

"Kiros. It seems the colony there is feeling mounting pressure from the war and has requested aid."

Recognition sparks in the back of Anakin's mind. He was supposed to be joining that mission, but with the trial proceedings running longer than expected, the order had opted not to assign the Knight. Anakin understands the thinking, that doesn't mean he has to like it, but at the same time, he's grateful that he won't be abandoning Rex to his fate alone.

"They found someone to accompany you after all?"

Obi-Wan hums.

"Indeed. Master Ti found herself available, and we are hoping that her presence as a fellow Togruta will help things go over more smoothly."

Anakin huffs in amusement.

"They're an artisans colony, shouldn't be too hard."

The Jedi Master tilts his head in concession and smiles, relaxing back into the chair.

"It will be nice to have a relatively easy mission for a change."

---

Rex is starting to go a little stir crazy. A side effect he had not considered when he had decided to take responsibility for Krell's death. His immediate thoughts had been to keep his men out of harm's way, fix one last piece of the mess that was Umbara.

In hindsight, his plan was a bit shortsighted, but he honestly didn't know what to expect after - if he would still be around or if the galaxy had finished toying with him and would let him march ahead and rest with his brothers.

Two weeks of waking up in a cell, at first on Umbara, later on, a star destroyer, and finally on Coruscant, had cemented the notion that the Captain was in this whatever this is for the long haul. It had also lost its novelty rather quickly. Despite the growing restlessness, only alleviated by the occasional walk to and from the senate building to give testimony, it has given him time to think. Even so, he hasn't come to a decision and so he runs through his options one more time.

He knows Palpatine is corrupt, is the shadow figurehead wielding two separate armies for control of the galaxy, is responsible for the death and misery of millions.

It would be easy to do nothing. To let the war and rebellion play out as they did. He knows that Palatine will get what's coming to him in due time.

Rex buries his face in his hands and feels like a coward for even considering the idea. But the alternative is daunting: Stop the Empire before it can even exist, more so then it already does (it's sickening to see how much is already in place, to realize that between the Separatists and the Republic, the Empire already stretches across the Galaxy, is in every home and hyperspace lane. Seeds of a dark and totalitarian regime just waiting to sprout). He doesn't even know how he would start or if it's even possible to change things on such a large scale.

But things are already different. In small ways, yes, but still distinct from what they were.

Dogma, Hardcase, and a handful of other troopers that would have died (did die once) because of Krell's orders, alive and ready for a fight.

Burgeoning hope roots itself under his ribs, a fragile thing that Rex is afraid to cling too tightly to and accidentally kill, so he lets it sit near his heart, next to his joy and sorrow, and contemplates what it would take to change the fate of the galaxy.

Help, his mind supplies, I need help.

He can't do this alone. It's a risk involving others- letting anyone in on the knowledge he has, or even his suspicions, will raise questions, some that he won't be able to answer truthfully. Even in the privacy of his own mind having experienced it for himself, time travels as an explanation sounds ridiculous, and not everyone will be as willing to believe him as Fives.

And although Rex trusts his brother and knows that Fives will have his back in this, two soldiers do not a rebellion make. But it is a start.

More than people, Rex needs information, connections that can help him prove the Chancellor's corruption. His own set of skills in information gathering is, admittedly, limited, although more comprehensive than it was before he had lived through the Empire. But success hinges on convincing people to join him, and for that, he needs proof.

A face comes to mind, unbidden, and it gives the Captain pause. His first instinct is to bury the idea as deep as he can. Senator Amidala is, by all counts, not someone Rex wants to risk in this endeavor. But he can't deny that she would be nearly perfect for the task, is reasonably sure that she already has a list of the Chancellors more questionable decisions and policies.

The longer he thinks about it, the better he likes the idea. She's an intelligent woman, who Rex knows (if he can recruit her) will understand the risks and the stakes, knows she already has connections of her own, and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty.

One thing is for certain, should he find out, General Skywalker will kill him.