#binge eating and eating whatever i want obviously makes my health worse

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

[fencesandfrogs]

hi my name is matthew and i have some thoughts about haes

okay disclaimers: i’m a little jumpy around the subject so while i don’t feel i’m being unnecessarily harsh/unfair, if ur firm on haes w no yielding, and you don’t want to argue about it? either skip this or don’t respond. i don’t really care. but i’m putting the body under a read more.

[3k words, 10 minute read. sections headers, some text italicized for emphasis/some readibility. no images/videos, a few links.]

second disclaimer: i’m not planning on going heavy on sources. i will happily provide sources to people who want them, and i haven’t written the actual post yet but it’s unlike me not to cite anything, but doing an in depth well researched and sourced post on this type of subject is not something i’m up for right now.

like i said, i’m jumpy around this subject. and on the off chance someone decides this post is Bad and i must be banished to the Bad Blogs Bin, i’d rather not put a lot of work into it.

third disclaimer: i’m not particularly interested in reading X study that says actually no people who way 700 pounds are healthy and people who weigh less than 200 are going to die early deaths. i know that’s a straw man i needed to a) get it out of the way now and b) i just am tired all the time and don’t have a ton of itme for it. that said, if you do send one to me, i will probably read it at some point, and i may or may not provide my thoughts.

right then. moving on.

with no more waffling, my thesis is as follows: weight stigma is bad, however obesity is killing people and i really would like people to stop pretending it doesn’t.

i. really hate that that’s a controversial opinion. i mean i hold a decent number of somewhat controversial opinions, most of which i keep to myself because i’m a firm believer that what i think about something should not interfere with how other people live their lives. as a noncontroversial example, i think mormons are in a cult. children, being minors, being indoctrinated is a problem, one i myself am not dedicated to solving because i have other issues but as far as adults involved, that’s their business.

(*please note that i’m not expanding on my thoughts because this post is about haes but i do have a more complicated opinion i’m just trying to demonstrate something please don’t at me about cults i know that they’re bad and adults in them also need help getting out that’s not the point of this post & i’m anxious enough so like, please.)

anyway so. obesity. is bad. it is bad for your health. if you are obese, you are not healthy. that said, i am not going to tell you to lose weight. no one should tell you to lose weight except for your doctor and maybe your immediate family, and that should be from a place of “you are not living your best life and i care about you.” i, an internet stranger, along with pretty much everyone you know, does not get to tell you about how terrible your life is and what a horrible person you are for existing, because you are not a bad person for being overweight. you do not deserve discrimination or mistreatment. even if you’re not actively trying to lose weight. it doesn’t matter. you are a human being like any other and i will fight like hell for you.

i’m not planning on going heavy into eating disorders because a) that’s a triggering topic for me and b) it’s going to muddle the point i’m getting, but since it is a large part of the arguments re. haes, it’s certainly going to come up, so i’d like to list the officially recognized eating disorders.

Anorexia Nervosa (AN)

Bulimia Nervosa (BN)

Binge Eating Disorder (BED)

Other Specified Feeding and Eating Disorder (OSFED)

Pica

Rumination Disorder

Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder (ARFID)

Unspecified Feeding or Eating Disorder (UFED)

Other (aka “we are considering making this its own category but for matthew’s purposes it fits into AFRID or UFED well enough because the details aren’t important”)

so yeah. we’ll circle back to this.

section one: haes

haes initially stood for heatlh at every size. that doesn’t really matter anymore because people say healthy at every size now, however, the distinction is important. because.

okay. when i say being obese makes you inherently unhealthy, i am not saying you are having health problems for being overweight. i am saying you have a chronic illness. i have asthma. that makes me inherently unhealthy. i don’t necessarily have an health problems because i am asthmatic, but i have a chronic illness and it certainly would, say, make me more likely to die from covid. that is a fact. saying healthy at every lung functionality would not change that.

but you know, i can still be active and like smell plants and interact in the world like anyone else. i just try to keep my inhaler near by.

so similarly, if you are overweight/obese (i’ve been saying only obese because its less letters so i’m sticking with that), you can, like, live ur best life and take care of your health. you can feel good about your body and eat good food and move and again, i really don’t want anyone reading this to feel that i think everyone who’s obese needs to lose that weight because adults can do whatever they want.

what i’m angry about is that a good thing (encouraging people to make good choices no matter what so they can feel good in their bodies) got turned into a bad thing (telling people they don’t need to change what they’re doing because they’re perfectly healthy).

section two: but what about...?

see my third disclaimer. but as a fast rundown of things i probably won’t talk about in detail later:

the obesity paradox is a specific thing about a specific type of illness in the elderly. it’s also not about obesity, it’s about being slightly overweight. it’s a complicated thing, but it’s not true most of the time

sumo wrestlers have major health problems as soon as they stop exercising like crazy.

did you know there are countries where girls are force fed to become overweight? diet culture goes both ways

if you want to say healthy at every size, you have to mean that every. that means you are not allowed to say shit about underweight people. i’m sorry, is someone you care about wasting away? are they 5′10 and weigh  90 pounds and their hair is falling out because they aren’t eating? i’m sorry, you said people are healthy at every size. you can’t make fun of skinny people. you have to suck it up because you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

section three: self care

a hypothetical that is blindingly obvious to where i’m going: if a small child wants to play with a knife, are you caring for them by giving into it? what if they want to drink some vodka? what if they want to run away from home to live with a stranger in a white van?

i really really hope all those answers are “no, you’re neglecting that child, and also possibly actively harming it.”

so my point is pretty obvious: giving yourself something because you want it does not mean you are caring for yourself.

you know what i want  to do all the time? sleep and rewatch twilight every day. but that makes me feel worse. so even though it’s terrible and i hate it, i have to take care of myself (because there is only one of me that i ever get) and go outside and talk to people and eat something that isn’t popcorn because you need protein to live.

(sorry i tried to keep nutrition out of that but i have to actively seek out sufficient salt and protein due to my campus doing a lot of low sodium food, which is bad when u actually need to eat a good amount of salt to keep ur body working, and also i’m vegetarian. so i’m constantly making myself seek it out.)

that doesn’t mean self care is always supposed to be work, but i mean. i’ve always not really gotten into it. i think because i’m hella depressed and i’ve been depressed long enough i can recognize it as this separate entity when it comes to a lot of the mental stuff. like, why do i feel like everything is meaningless? that’s just the depression.

but i digress, this isn’t about me. [proceeds to talk about me again]

one phrase i like a lot for myself is “bad food makes me feel bad.” now, i’m not a fan of putting moral judgements to food. but this works for me, personally. sure, eating a bunch of ice cream right now is good, but it’s going to suck when my stomach flips the fuck out because of all the sugar. and so it seems quite obvious to me that eating that ice cream is not, in fact, caring for my body.

and i think we’d collectively be a bit better served if we could learn to distinguish between self-care and self-kindness. ask anyone who does caregiving (childcare, nurses, etc): it is hard, often thankless (at least for children they’re devils who don’t realize that their toys will get wrecked if they don’t pick them up) work. you care for them not by doing what they want, but what is best for them.

section four: diet culture

as i’ve already played my hand up above with underweight vs haes, i think it’s kind of obvious that i have strong feelings about underweight not being healthy also. so i just want to take stock of what is and isn’t diet culture, and what i think about it. this is probably the most subjective part of this essay.

things i think are diet culture

people trying ridiculous diets. obviously diet culture in the purest sense. it’s real dumb. you need all the food groups to live. sometimes it’s okay, like cutting out sugar, but i’d say its a net negative

not trying to do lifestyle changes. that’s the sustainable way to lose weight. so. yeah.

weight cycling. actually still up for debate if this is bad. this paper says no, along with a lot of others, but i’m not sitting down and reading through all of them, and all of the ones that say its bad, to offer my opinion. i’m leaning towards “it’s better than nothing,” but we’ll see

a lot of other stuff i’m doing this off the top of my head and trying to avoid issues w eating disorders so.

things i think aren’t diet culture

women being pressured to look a certain way. that’s been going on for a long time. being skinny used to be bad. it’s a fact of the patriarchy.

most things? idk i have this impression that like, anyone exercising or eating healthy is a part of diet culture, when in reality, people just have different lifestyles. (also, again, if you’re going with haes, as in HealthyAES (hyaes?) you can’t call it unhealthy or you’re not respecting that damn E)

in conclusion: diet culture has issues, but the correct response to them is not “fuck you, i’m eating fourteen pounds of sugar.” eat fourteen pounds of sugar because you want to. (also it should be fat because if you really want to stick it to the man you should be eating fat, big sugar is responsible for a huge amount of todays dietary problems, both on the under/overweight side)

section five: discrimination

yeah no fuck people who discriminate about fat people. that’s all i’m just moving along to a transition since i was drifting away from my point about health.

section six: weight stigma

...is not responsible for your health issues. being obese is. accept the consequences of your lifestyle.

well. okay. that’s a little unfair. accept the consequences of not treating your chronic illness. and i feel i’ve probably lost people for calling obesity an illness but that’s the whole point of my post.

just like carrying externally heavy objects hurts your joints, so does carrying a lot of weight inside. fat does not cushion your organs, it kills them. getting rid of weight stigma will not make these issues go away.

the treatment for obesity is eating the number of calories you need to sustain a healthy weight at your current exercise levels. (*please consult with your doctor this is more complicated when you have to lose a lot of weight.)

section seven: cico. or, why your metabolism is fine

your body does not break the laws of thermodynamics. it cannot magically create more energy out of a given amount of calories.

there are issues with calorie counting, yes. i think it’s usually done in an unsustainable way that isn’t teaching people to make decisions, just to do math. it can be hard to get an accurate count.

but you are not a miracle of science. you have not discovered how to create and destroy energy. i’m sorry to be the one to break if to you.

if you don’t believe me, if you’re really sure your metabolism is different, go on and get it tested. tell your doctors. because it’s a major problem if it’s not working right.

similarly, i’m sorry, but if someone is the same height as you and a (very, like, +- 50 pounds) different weight, and neither of you have exisitng health conditions, you are not eating the same things/doing the same exercise. you have not broken the laws of physics.

possibly, one of you have untreated celiacs or something of the ilk meaning your body is actually malfunctioning. but if that’s true, i excluded you already, so shoo. get out of here and play in the sun with the other kids.

if you don’t believe this, there’s not much i can do to convince you. but i encourage you to count your calories for a month. find some tdee calculators. weigh yourself. make sure you count everything, it all goes down. check the math. (you can do any amount of time but a month is what you need for weight to be meaningful imo otherwise you’re just proving weight fluctuates a lot).

section eight: cico. or, why counting calories is not disordered eating

it can sure be a symptom of disordered eating, and it can certainly make disordered eating worse, but it isn’t an eating disorder.

also, assuming you’re not trying to verify the laws of thermodynamics, i don’t think counting every calorie is necessary. i have approximate values (500/meal, and around 300 in snacks), which i try not to go over or under.

yeah. i actually use calorie counting to make sure i’m eating enough in one sitting. some of my medication screws with my apetite and then i only eat like 300 calories and suddenly its like 11 and i need to go to bed but i’m hungry but eating before bed makes me feel terrible and it sucks.

but hey, according to some people, avoiding that is unhealthy.

okay i’m moving on before i get salty because the next section is touchy

section nine: eating disorders.

the three main eating disorders are listed way up there. they’re the first three. AN, BN, BED.

oh, yeah, binge eating? that’s actually disordered eating too. it’s not normal.

i’m not going to elaborate on the point because i absolutely know i can’t do it without getting really fucking angry that people call calorie counting disordered eating, like i haven’t watched a fifth grader eat one meal a day because she’s scared she’s overweight. like i haven’t watched a sixth grader cram food into his mouth until he’s sick because he’s worried he’s not bulky enough for sports. like i haven’t watched an eleventh grader tell me he hasn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday, but it’s fine, he doesn’t want his mac and cheese anyway, since he needs to lose weight.

you think someone keeping track of some numbers is an eating disorder? then either you’re lucky enough to never have to deal with eating disorders on a personal level, and i’m very happy for you, or you have, and you should maybe reevaluate that.

alright i’m cutting myself off now whoop.

section ten: intuitive eating

you know, much like haes, i want to like this. it fits in with my bad-food-makes-me-feel-bad mentality. i’m angry and tired and hungry because i ate like, a late breakfast/early lunch and now i need to eat again because if i don’t eat every six to eight hours i have a medical condition that makes me feel like shit (an aside: unless you’ve been told by a doctor, you don’t need to eat every 2-3 hours. unless you’re a child or have an applicable medical condition, you can probably eat one meal a day and be firne.)

but much like haes, it now has a meaning i can’t in good consience endorse. i can’t stand for a movement that tells people who acknowledge weight makes their joints hurt that they just need to keep eating until they feel better.

section eleven: conclusion

i have a lot more thoughts but again i’m hungry. i meant to talk more about IE and my problems with it but maybe that will be its own post.

i won’t say i’m happy to talk about this because i can’t promise i am (see: eating disorder issues.), but i will most likely respond to constructive discussion if someone sees this and wants to. i can also provide sources. i hate going, “sources available on request” but i tried to provide some stuff for some of the heavily disputed/i already had a source for it and didn’t have to dig through google scholar to find information that’s been peer reviewed.

and i do sincerely wish everyone, at any size, that they fracture the disconnect between them and their bodies (oop didn’t talk about that either another time then) & that they find peace with who they are, and that they get to live happy & fulfilling lives.

[renaroo]

Cass Cain vs the Bat Family for the last slice of Alfred's pie. "Is that a challenge?"

A/N: This became a more Batfam entirety kind of story and then a commentary on the madness of quarantine in my own family using Uno as a proxy. Regardless it was a lot of fun to do.

Four Walls and Attitude 

Oracle places her hand against the map behind her. What was once a black and white scaled model of Gotham is now glowing a radioactive green with shades of green depending on the island, the neighborhood, and even the street.

Everyone, including Batman, stares in awe of the projection.

“In other words,” Oracle says, looking sharply over her glasses, “there is absolutely no way we can operate like normal without causing things getting worse.”

Silence spreads quickly throughout the cave. Most of them don’t even know what to make of the information.

Finally, giving voice to the general shock, Nightwing finally says, “Wow. Corona killed Batman.”

“It did not, the rest of you are staying in the manor,” Batman concludes, leading to an eruption of disagreement.

“Did you not pay attention to what I just said?” Oracle demands. “It goes for you, too, Bruce. No one in this cave can leave without it causing a major public health challenge. We patrol too many areas, cross-contaminate with each other too often, and, worst of all, we have immunocompromised family members of our own to worry about.”

It was an intentionally vague statement, but it doesn’t stop the meaningful glances toward Alfred and Red Robin.

Red Robin crosses his arms angrily. “I resent that statement.”

“Maybe keep better track of your spleen,” Red Hood snorts.

Black Bat is uncertain, shifting on her heels. “What do we do?”

“Social distance and adapt,” Oracle answers easily, straightening her glasses. “It’s possible to fight crime without punching people, you realize. That’s my entire M.O.”

The other vigilantes look at each other warily.

***

The size of the manor was enough reason on its own for them to make it their main base of quarantine. There are obviously more than enough supplies, more rooms than any of them could use independently, and access to equipment and the cave should emergencies arise.

Not to mention, the vast majority of them live there already.

Stephanie calls her mom, Barbara messages the Birds of Prey, and they all find solo activities for the first day, only really intersecting at the library, the kitchen, and the entertainment room during chance encounters.

That seemed to be a good call. And when there is a need for some social interaction, it’s almost always in their usual social groups however they naturally lie.

No one sees Bruce but that seems pretty par for the course.

It isn’t until the third day that things get slightly more challenging.

Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra enter the mini-theater room with a giant tub of popcorn. The lights are off, but the projector is running and the main couch is occupied by Dick and Damian.

“Oh, didn’t realize you guys were in here,” Duke says sheepishly.

“SHH!” Damian hisses at them.

Dick arches back enough to look at the trio over his shoulder. “No problem, we’re watching Planet Earth. Want to join?”

Stephanie and Duke look at each other with mirrored grimaces.

Cassandra squints at the screen. “No,” she answers for them. “How long?”

“We’re marathoning,” Dick shrugs. “Started about an hour ago—“

“SHH!” Damian snarls at them again.

“We were hoping to watch a movie,” Steph says. Her gaze falls more on Damian than Dick, since he is no doubt the one to appeal to. “The Breakfast Club, it’s a classic. You’d like it.”

Duke looks at them all skeptically. “He would? Really?”

“Cass, you know there’s a different television set,” Dick says, pointing to the floor below.

“Tim’s playing,” Cass says in response, her hands holding up an invisible controller as she mimes Tim’s thumb movements.

“There’s a million places you can set up a laptop,” Dick continues to plea.

That earns a crossed look from Stephanie. “So? What do we need to do? Start putting signup sheets in all the rooms? Just share the projector with us after Planet Earth switches episodes.”

“No,” Dick and Damian say in unison.

The trio leaves the room angrily and, within the hour, clipboards with signup sheets begin being mysteriously adhered to all of the main rooms.

***

Jason has made it a point, nearly every day, to remind everyone that he will be the easiest adjusted to quarantine because he is the only true introvert.

The number of times the words introvert and isolated have left his mouth climb so high that, in secret, everyone is beginning to doubt the truth to them. If he is an introvert to the exponential extremes that he professes, surely he would not need to keep finding where everyone else is hiding to let them know it.

He has an alternating list of Zoom calls he is on each day. Hangouts he makes himself, making a point to inform the others quarantined to the manor than they are not invited to it.

The list of who is invited to it seems to grow by the day.

Kyle Rayner, Donna Troy, Ryan Choi. Then Roy Harper, Koriand'r, and Jade Nguyen. Then Artemis, Bizarro, and Miguel Barragan. Out of nowhere Duela Dent, Rose Wilson, and Suzie Su.

It’s halfway into the second week and Jason has the audacity to come into Tim’s room, pull off his headphones, and ask him if he’s bored.

“You know what I think,” Tim says, more than a little irritated. “I think you’re actually not an introvert. I think you’re not an introvert and you’re taking out your need for social contact out on the rest of us.”

Jason considers his comment, then breaks the expensive Beats in half before walking out the door.

***

Alfred begins making many desserts.

It starts with requests. Of course he will make whatever meal or whatever treat is asked of him, because it is nice to have all his loved ones safe, secure, and in the same location for once. Many of the desserts aren’t even difficult.

Then, somehow, they morph into bribes.

Despite the fact that Alfred has remained tight-lipped about his exact age for all these years, the quote-unquote children insist that he is too old to venture out of quarantine. Thus he must stay in the manor and rely on them to stock the pantry.

This doesn’t seem altogether terrible until it becomes obvious to Alfred that whoever he sends out will only get the foodstuffs they desire and not any of the important staples Alfred puts on the list.

Thus, the trades begin.

He can’t make his famous flan without evaporated milk. He positively will not make ginger layer cake without wine poached pears. And how can they snack on peach and pistachio tarts without honey?

Before Alfred has realized it, he has created monsters. Sugar craved, bored little monsters.

He puts a limit on the sweets he will cook in hopes of focusing instead on cooking favorite meals, but it’s too late.

Even Bruce is checking in on the kitchen at odd hours, looking curiously under the cake plate.

And cutting back the number of sweets Alfred is producing through the week also leads to another unforeseen circumstance.

They begin competing for what sweets are left.

***

Bruce looks in disbelief at the screen. Then he looks at the others. Then back to the screen.

“I distinctly remember us being on episode four,” Bruce says in a voice that edges on Batman.

“Last night, yeah,” Duke agrees, helping Alfred with everyone’s drinks.

No one else seems to find fault with the statement and are waiting for Bruce to continue. They pick at their independent devices lazily, only half attentive to any one thing.

It’s very dissatisfying considering the huge inconsistency that Bruce is detecting on their streaming service.

“Why is it saying that we’ve watched all the episodes already?” Bruce demands, voice sounding more hurt than he meant to let on.

Dick and Barbara simultaneously look up from their phones, toward each other, then back down. The others don’t even bother breaking their concentrations.

“You finished the entire series without me?” Bruce presses.

“Father,” Damian finally speaks up, sounding exasperated, “it is impossible to properly view things with you.”

Bruce squints at his youngest. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not just you, Bruce,” Stephanie says quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I can’t watch shows with my mom either.”

“Boomers just don’t know how to binge-watch,” Tim cuts with the final blow, not even looking up from his laptop.

Leaving the room in spite of protests, Bruce decides he is never going to watch the end of the show out of spite.

***

Cassandra has apparently made it a habit to not let others see her walk through doorways. As a result, she seemingly appears in rooms more than she enters them. Or, at the very least, she acts as though she just always has been and it is the other party who is intruding on her space.

As a result, it’s not altogether shocking when Duke looks up from his newly prepared plate and is met by his sister.

She is staring at his plate more than him.

“Oh, hey, Sis,” he offers her all the same. Then, instinctively, he shifts his shoulders to somewhat create a barrier between his plate and her. “What’s up?”

“Apple pie,” Cass announces as if it answers everything.

“Mmhmm,” Duke replies cautiously.

“Last piece?” she asks, her eyes gleaming.

“I’m sure Alfred will make another,” Duke says, then, slowly adding, “eventually.”

“Mine,” she snaps.

“No, you don’t even eat yours with vanilla ice cream!” Duke argues back, almost turning his back on her completely. “Just eat some of the cookies.”

“No!” Cass says, quickly shifting to be more aligned with the treat. “You eat them.”

“Cass, I got here first!” Duke snaps back, hooking afoot around the leg of the nearest chair. “Fair and square.”

“It was my pie,” Cass hisses. “I’ll take it back!”

“Is that a challenge?” Duke asks.

He sees her lunging and immediately kicks out the leg of the chair as he flips over it.

Cassandra is quick as ever and easily somersaults off of the falling chair to land over Duke’s shoulders. Her force is enough to send Duke’s body tumbling forward, but his body has proper instincts. He holds up the plate of pie above all else while using his free hand to find new ground, twirl his body out, and roll his head forward. Cass tumbles off his shoulders.

She hits the counters, but not before kicking off her shoe and sending it flying for Duke’s face.

He twists enough to lighten some of the impact, but the well-aimed shoe sends Duke into a tailspin.

The pie hits the floor with a sickening thud.

The siblings look crestfallen toward the prize, then each other.

Then they get angry.

By the time Barbara and Alfred burst onto the scene to break things up, the fight has utterly devolved and grown to the size of five Wayne heirs, three of which had no idea what the initial fight was even over.

Jason filmed it and sent it to everyone in his extended Zoom call list.

***

They are at each other’s throats. It turns out the Manor doesn’t have enough rooms.

Even Alfred’s treats are not enough to soothe the tensions anymore. Any little thing can set them off. So they spend the rest of the week finding solitary activities, barely communicating with words anymore.

Finally, some wounds begin to heal when Stephanie speaks to a room of others on their Switches.

“Hey, does anybody have an island with cherries?”

They play in harmony again, comparing villagers in hushed tones and sharing patterns for clothes.

Momentarily, there is hope that the peace will last forever, to the rhythm of island music and Blathers’ gibberish words.

It gives them twenty-seven hours of peace and nothing more.

***

“This absolutely will not work,” Barbara sputters as she pulls up to the table.

The others look at her with mild surprise, but they’re already seated. Jason is shuffling in preparation to deal. The arrangement from his left on is Stephanie, Cassandra, Barbara herself, Dick, Duke, Tim, and then Damian.

Damian is flanked by Jason and Tim. And only Barbara sees what the problem with this is.

“I am looking at a public safety hazard,” Barbara presses. “Dick, seriously, you’re going to let them do this?”

He thinks about it. “It’s a learning experience,” he determines.

“You dealing in or nah, Red?” Jason pushes.

She glares at them all, certain this is purposeful on at least some of their behalves, but she crosses her arms. “Okay, fine,” she says.

Jason deals out seven to everyone. Once he puts the deck in the middle, he turns over the first Uno card — green three — and with his free hand reaches in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. The others are already playing while Jason looks slightly miffed if not panicked when he can’t find the pack.

Under the table, Barbara can feel the shuffle of a pack of cigarettes being passed between other members of the table.

Shockingly enough, Jason doesn’t say anything verbally, but his eyes are already glaring at Damian as the pickpocket.

Stephanie puts down green nine.

Cassandra green Draw Two.

Barbara draws two.

Dick puts down a yellow Draw Two.

“No fair,” Duke chuckles.

Tim puts down a yellow Reverse.

Damian narrows his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Drake?”

Duke yellow eight.

Yellow four.

Yellow two.

Blue two.

Blue three.

Blue Reverse.

Damian glares at Jason. “Is this planned?”

“How can they plan Uno, Dami?” Steph asks. Blue one.

Blue seven.

Barbara looks over her glasses at the table. She’s lost track of the cigarettes. “Don’t underestimate these people, Stephanie,” she warns as the ends up drawing five cards before finally laying down green seven.

Green nine.

Wild Card. “Let’s go with,” Duke looks through his hand cautiously, “Yellow again.”

There is a suspicious twitch to Tim’s lips as he puts down a Draw Four. “Let’s go back to red.”

Damian releases an explosion of expletives and leaps to stand on his chair.

“Ah, it was a mistake, my bad,” Dick says, rubbing a hand down his face.

***

Bruce is stone-faced at dinner, strangely fixated on his plate.

It’s not overly concerning, Bruce tends to be in quiet contemplation on most days regardless.

He finally looks up, though, and glares at them all.

“I finished it on my own,” he informs them.

They all stare back.

“Tiger King,” he clarifies. “They’re all guilty. But also. What the hell.”

Everyone collectively loses their minds again.

Alfred sighs and begins drafting a rotation for getting them all out of the manor more.

[atomicqueertragedy]

One of the most annoying things about being autistic...

…is trying to look after yourself. The way that my brain works is that everything is a system/computer and can be somehow understood in a logical manner (at least that’s how my brain tries to perceive the world). But because I obviously cannot understand everything, my brain simplifies processes but genuinely believes they are usable and accurate when this is not the case at all.

Food (i.e. for me one of the most distressing parts of being a living organism with autism…):

What my brain would like to see as a simple mathematical puzzle:  stomach empty + fuel = stomach full is in actual fact a very complicated reality of variation. If I tried to eat without aid then I would eat whatever was the quickest and easiest simply because the fact I don’t understand what is healthy and what is not, what will give me energy and what won’t, what will cause me to gain weight and what won’t…that’s too much. I need a very simple process otherwise my brain just switches off and I won’t eat, which then causes me to binge eat, and I assume this is why so many of us have issues with food and/or eating disorders.

The only thing that has helped me work through my issues with eating is literally a dieting app. I think I’ll have to use this honestly for the rest of my life because it is the only way I can eat a good amount of food, that provides me with both nutrients, energy and isn’t causing me to gain or lose weight. And honestly it’s working!! I think my partner can get frustrated with how precise I need to be with how many calories/carbs/protein/sodium I need to ingest/not ingest but I have not been as comfortable or as energised eating since like ever. I am eating better than ever and I am eating neurodivergently which can be strange, awkward or even trying to strangers, family or friends but I know for a fact that I am better off for it and days when I do not look at my “dieting” app I feel disgusting, tired, moody and confused. (the app encase you’re wondering is called MyNetDiary but I am in no way condoning it or wanting you to use it. Just because it works for me does not mean it will necessarily be beneficial for you so if you do try it please be careful and keep that in mind. If you have an eating disorder it may make things worse so be careful, my friends!)

Medical stuff :

For a long long time I absolutely ignored my health because it was too complicated/stressful an aspect of my life. I’ve always had random rashes that turn up, a burning sensation on my face, pain in my knee, random pinches/sparking pain in my chest, migraines etc…but even brushing my teeth was too much for me to handle so of course I just tried to ignore ALL of that because like excuse me body did I give you permission to be alive and functioning…??

Realising that I would never understand my body and each of its parts was one of the scariest and most relieving things I’ve ever come to accept. That doesn’t at all mean that any of these things that I experience are suddenly solved or dealt with at all. But that was part of the realisation that I had to come to…understanding that there wasn’t necessarily an end-all solution to any of these. But hey there are ways to deal with them, and usually finding a coping mechanism for one allows you to have the energy to deal with another. i.e. after many doctor’s visits (which I would not have gone to if not for my partner) I realised that the rashes I’ve been getting are simply due to dry skin (due to excessive washing because no thanks I do not like those sensations on my skin) and eczema which was being aggravated by excessive washing.

I haven’t stopped excessively washing myself but I have tried to moisturise those areas more (as much as I can because the sensation of moisturiser on my skin is H O R R I B L E) and it’s decreased it. I guess what I’m trying to say is that there are ways to work around your thoughts of “this should work this way but it doesn’t so I’m going to ignore it” and I’m not saying it is the easiest thing at all…it’s actually rather difficult and I have in no way done this by myself, or done it quickly. There have been many many years of me trying and trying again to work through it, and forgetting that there is no end-all solution and relapsing into doing nothing and trying again.

And I won’t go into it much but doctors do not at all help the situation…they overcharge you for doing basically nothing, won’t explain things in detail or in words you understand and treat you as if you are hysterical and ridiculous. In these cases I highly recommend taking a friend who is a people-person or neurotically who can stand up for you if/when you are treated this way. Thankfully my partner can do this for me, and I have found a doctor who is willing to explain, even with diagrams/3D models what could/or even isn’t happening, as well as allowing me to bulk bill my appointments.

Exercise:

Thankfully this is probably the only part of my “looking after myself” part that I’ve been able to simplify and break down to the point my autism can cope with it, but I know that this must be really difficult for a lot of other people.

I have never been able to exercise much in the past, but I honestly don’t know how much this is to do with my autism as I also had a mother with NPD (Narcissistic personality disorder) who made it very difficult for me to leave the house, as well as an eating disorder, no money of my own, and had like really really big titties which gave me a lot of dysphoria (discomfort with my gender identity, sometimes due to a specific body part).

It wasn’t until two years after moving out/breaking contact with my mother that I am able to exercise a little bit. And even then I have to go to a gym, because it allows for unchangeable circumstances, with a pre-organised regime and a band that calculates my heart rate and calorie loss. If anything in the gym changes  my routine then I have a break down and can’t continue, and it is also rather expensive and causes quite a lot of anxiety. BUT if everything goes to plan, and it usually does maybe 80-90% of the time then I am able to stay healthy (i.e. maintain my weight, gain muscle, work off any anxious energy, sleep better for it). Again this might not work for you but it is the only way I can exercise, and a lot of neurotypicals can make fun of it (either cos I’m not skinny or because I don’t go very often, or because I simply do go to the gym when I could be jogging on the street or what-not) but again I know myself better than them.

*

ALSO I would just like to say that just because you might have trouble knowing yourself doesn’t mean a stranger knows you better. You might find your body confusing but that in no way at all means that a stranger’s comment on your body or the way you treat it is at all accurate.

ALSO ALSO if you’re not autistic and you’re reading this (or if you are and didn’t know this…) then not all autistic people feel this way. There is no generalised way to feel as an autistic person but it is possible that an autistic person might have issues/difficulties with these areas and if you are ever unsure you are probably welcome to ask how best to talk about/or act in these situations to help our comfort levels, or at the very least not call us out for acting in a different way to you.

[jinnaidaisuke]

Real talk, a reason why Umbrella academy has come to me at a perfect time in life

It's like the tattoo they were forced to get as kids, it's a kind of smudge on you that only you can see and you feel dirty no matter how much you scrub and wash yourself.

Sure some days are better and some days are worse. But it never. Fully. Goes. Away.

And it sucks. It's the same thing with mental illness and obviously these two things go hand in hand, Kerosine to fire.

My repressed ass did talk a bit about it in therapy, got encouraged to talk about it with the parent that didn't do the do (like even now I still struggle with calling it abuse because then it would be real? Admitting to a weakness that doesn't exist. I already feel dirty all over and it's so stupid to feel like this but it is what it is) and it was all okay ish for a couple of years. Like yeah he at first didn't believe it 'where was I when this and that happened' but I got through it and it was okay. I was doing really well, I went on to study again and lost weight, started to eat and sleep better, started semi working out. I liked my body for the first time since I could ever remember, I liked myself and didn't berate myself for even opening my mouth and talking and overtaking conversations like the attention starved kid I was... And then it all pummeled down the drain like it always does.

Like in all honesty I can admit that my depression did start to get worse ish because of health issues that stopped me from working out and just the general season of things. But like I had a handle on shit.

Then stuff happened like it does in life and other stuff happened on top and suddenly I am thrown back into interacting with my mother that I hadn't spoken to or seen in 10 years, by my choice.

It has been eating away at me slowly. But worse of all is the reaction of my family members. I legit had a panic attack and a break down and instead of taking her out of the situation so I can get myself back together again it's "you are annoying" "get your shit together" "go to therapy again if you can't deal with it" as if therapy is a magical healing experience that makes all of it go away into nothingness. If that was the case then I wouldn't be like this, if that was the case Vanya would have had her shit together when we are first introduced to her.

And that's when the umbrella academy happened and it saddens me to say that my own family is more in the Luther stage of things if anything.... And i am so tired of fighting for my place in this family. Especially since it seems that I was really just the stand in for my mother and now that she is back I am not needed? And I hate myself for regretting my decision to shield my siblings from all the shit that has been going on in our house before because now they don't believe me, they can't empathize and they want their mother back and who an I to deny that to them? How fucked up do I have to be to suddenly wish I hadn't protected my siblings? Part of it is my fault because I can't tell them, there is this mental barrier to just open fully up. Whether is like talking out loud about the stuff or just telling them that either they stop rebuilding their relationship with their mom or just completely alienate me and destroy me in the process. It's not fair, none of this is fair.

And I hate the fact that none of this will probably ever go away. Like I had made my peace with it. I knew that it was always there, I always heard my mother's voice in all I did and didn't do, every skipped meal, every indulgent meal, every binge meal, every time I stepped on the scale, my panic when I don't step on the scale in a day, every time I refused to do something, everytime I felt overwhelmed, everytime I couldn't sleep, I couldn't leave the house, everytime I look up at the nightsky, at my eyes, my body, my hair, my schoolwork, everything I behave not girly, everytime I behave like a girl, everytime I open my goddammit mouth and every goddamn thought. Everything has been tainted. And I had made my peace with it. I learnt to cope and push through. To function with this 'thing'

The way the umbrella kids did and do? In a way.

But somehow it's not enough, at least not now. Everything is too much and the perceived presence of her became real and tainted everything around me for real. It's not just a nightmare, it's real.

And I am in that state of in between where all I want is to be numb, all I want is to die, all I want is to scream and hit something, all I want is to be heard and seen, to be loved. But like all I want the most is for it to just end whatever that even means.

I wished my friends were enough. I wished I could just... Freaking do it, trust them indefinitely or accept offers or just Fucking do shit that other functioning human beings can do... I am. So shackled by my family, I can't escape, I don't wanna escape. Like there is one road for me and it's with them and I don't know if it's the brown kid in me or a lifelong of unhealthy obsession with keeping my family together and safe.

I am fighting a war and I am losing

I am all of the umbrella academy members in one and it literally is such a good and healing show, it makes me feel legit and less crazy than I feel but at the same time it makes me feel sad and alone

[joeybelle]

Oh, how the tables have turned -- Part 3

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt

Warnings: Language, first person POV, driving under the influence cause I assume everyone does it in that movie, IDK what I’m doing.

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-Heist

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw​ @kyloren-supreme-ben​ @onmyknees4steve​ @elsablackswift​ @helloimindelaware​ @mwcritics

A.N: I’ve decided to slice this fic into 3000-ish words parts for people to be able to scroll past it without much annoyance. Pert 3 ended up being much longer than expected, so i had to cut it into two parts somewhere in the middle. It’s not perfect, but you’ll be getting both parts today. When I finish editing. Might take a while. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the story. Feel free to drop me a line anytime or just message me if you wanna squee about Clyde Logan in general.

Rejection is always a tough pill to swallow. It wasn’t the first I’d gotten rejected and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it still didn’t go down easily. I found myself moping at home the next few days, following what I’d gotten used to calling the ‘series of unfortunate events’ related to Clyde Logan. Not that I had that many alternatives anyway, being a friendless nobody in a small town, but this time it felt self-imposed.

In the meantime I cut the grass in my yard and discovered a few rose bushes that were beautiful, but mean to my hands, I watched how the living room ceiling started leaking one rainy afternoon, signalling a pretty serious hole in the roof, nearly broke my neck going into the basement because there was a missing step I hadn’t seen before; I opened the vodka bottle all by myself and realized that he had been right, drinking alone wasn’t fun at all, but I was doing it anyway to hide my shame; I ate ice cream and binged Netflix shows for the rest of the week.

But there’s a limit to how much time you can spend alone at home before starting to go insane. I reached mine the next weekend and for a moment I considered paying Mellie a visit, but then I remembered the whole Clyde ordeal and I decided against it. I was sure that he’d told her everything and I really didn’t feel like talking about it. It was bad enough that I was beating myself up over it, I didn’t need someone else to rub it in. So, since the Duck Tape was off-limits for obvious reasons, and I didn’t feel like exploring for another bar in the neighbourhood I was left with only one option: the country fair.

I used to really love country fairs and carnivals and all that when I was a teenager, but it was probably because I’d be with my friends and there would be booze and food and we’d just be stupid together. I wasn’t sure I’d find them as charming nowadays, but at least I’d be moping outside, in public, which was an improvement to being secluded in my own home, waiting for another rain to invade the living room through the ceiling. So I showered, dressed like a semi-decent swamp witch and went to the damn thing.

As expected, the country fair didn’t impress me at all but it was a way to kill a few hours while feeling like less of a hermit than usual. I ate something, tested some insanely sweet drinks, and stuffed my face with enough ice cream to endanger my health, so in the end I found myself sitting on a bench, dangerously close to a food coma, with nothing better to do than to watch the crowd. Other people seemed to have way more fun than me. There were couples holding hands, parents with their kids, teenagers in groups visiting attractions and Clyde Logan with a blonde kid attached to his arm. Wait, what?

I have to say, this was the last place I had expected to see Clyde Logan. In my head, country fairs didn’t really fit his style (because I had spoken to him twice and I knew all there was to know about the man, obviously), and I assumed he’d be too busy with the bar to come to one anyway. I remembered that it was pretty early and the bar probably wasn’t open yet, but his presence in my field of vision was still unexpected.

I sighed dramatically and leaned back, arms crossed over my chest. Speak about bad luck, I thought. I came here to avoid him and here he was, swinging a blonde kid on his very toned arm. Actually, I didn’t mind the view. He was distracted by the kid and far enough not to notice my staring, so I indulged in it for a moment. There’s no harm in looking, right? Especially when he was wearing a dark, short-sleeved shirt that seemed at least a size too small, the buttons threatening to give in anytime he flexed his muscles while lifting the little girl in the air. His niece? Maybe. She seemed vaguely familiar, so I assumed she had been part of the onslaught of school kids that were sent to visit the college I worked at. Or maybe she was his kid. I had no way of knowing for sure.

Whatever the case, he looked really good doing it. He was smiling for a change. An open and honest smile lit up his usually somber face, and I just couldn’t look away. I caught myself wishing he would smile at me like that, but then I realized that we were practically strangers and I hadn’t made the best impression the first time we met. And since he clearly rejected me, I had to get over this crush ASAP if I wanted to live peacefully in this town.

The little girl let go of his arm and ran back to a couple that, after a bit of squinting, I recognized to be Jimmy Logan and his sister Mellie. They both looked different—after all it had been more than a decade since I’d last seen them—but not so much that I didn’t recognize them. Jimmy lifted the girl in the air and kissed her, then put her down and looked straight at me with a shit eating grin on his face. The feeling was similar to being punched in the gut. I remembered that in another life I’d dreamed of Jimmy Logan looking at me with a smile, but right now the only thing I felt was panic, so I decided to get the hell out of there before Mellie noticed me and I’d have to be part of a very awkward conversation.

But luck definitely wasn’t on my side today, because the little girl started running towards me yelling ‘Miss’ at the top of her lungs. Oh, now I recognized her: she was the pageant girl. Really smart kid, very bubbly and friendly, talked my ear off during the college tour. Her favourite subject was, of course, pageants.

“Hi!” I said, when she stopped in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. “You must be… uhhh… uhhhh.” Crap. I had been calling her pageant girl in my head for so long that I’d forgotten her name.

“Sadie!” she helpfully reminded me.

“Sadie, right. How are you today?”

“Good. Daddy brought me to the fair to see the auctioneers. And later uncle Clyde will win me a unicorn.” I did my best not to steal a glance at Clyde at the mention of his name, not wanting to invite any more attention towards me. Hopefully I’d be able to get out of here before the adults ganged up on me.

“Awesome!” I said, panic clearly noticeable in my voice, because Jimmy Logan was rapidly approaching (despite his visible limp) with Mellie following closely. “It was nice seeing you today, Sadie, but I have to go now. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for your unicorn.”

“Aw, leaving already?” She looked genuinely sad and I felt bad for her, but I felt even worse for myself, so I had to go.

“Yeah, leaving already? Without even saying hello?” Jimmy caught up to us before I was able to disappear, so I put on my most believable fake smile and hoped for the best. “Come on, don’t be a stranger, Baby,” he said, pulling me into a hug.

“Well, I kinda thought I was,” I mumbled, but returned the hug. He seemed like a nice person, plus I’d held him on a pedestal for so many years that I could indulge in a hug.

“Daddy, why are you calling her baby?” Sadie aske, giggling.

“Cause that’s her nickname,” he said, ruffling her hair. He explained to her that I’d been called baby ever since I was little, but she had to be polite and call me by my real name. The kid giggled again and I mouthed ‘I hate it’ which made her laugh harder, before turning to face her dad once again.

“I am surprised you know that. I lived under the impression that you had no idea who I was,” I said, going to hug his sister. “Hi Mellie, long time no see.” In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut and pretended we were at least acquaintances. And although I knew it could be interpreted that way, I wasn’t bitter that he never acknowledged me in my teens—after all, it was just puppy love and it had been a decade since then—but I was curious what had prompted this sudden display of familiarity. If anything, I would have expected Mellie to come alone to say hi.

“Hiya, sweetheart. It’s good to have you back.” She warmly returned my hug.

“What do you mean I had no idea who you were? You’ve been coming to my games since you were twelve and cheered louder than the whole cheerleading squad.” That was true. “How could I not know my biggest fan?”

“So you what, ignored me on purpose?” I said, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he said and laughed. His laugh was still the same as I remembered, loud and contagious. “But my brother here had the biggest crush on you and I just didn’t wanna make him more jealous.” Well, this was unexpected.

Clyde had conveniently stayed out of my line of sight, keeping his distance, but now I turned to look at him. Never in my life had I seen anyone blush so furiously in a matter of seconds, his whole face even his ears becoming a deep shade of red. He was glaring at Jimmy who seemed really unfazed by it.

“Is that so?” I pressed, feigning innocence, but deep inside me there was a little devil laughing maniacally. I mean, I was aware that it wasn’t very nice of me, but I was feeling a tiny bit of petty satisfaction knowing that I wasn’t the only one embarassed by the whole situation. Misery loves company.

“Yeah, he only ever came to my games to see you cheer,” Jimmy said, same shit eating grin plastered on his face, seeming completely oblivious to his brother’s discomfort.

I smiled back but wonder what Jimmy’s motive was. Talking to me out of the blue, after never acknowledging me before, snitching on his brother in a matter of seconds. I knew he was insanely loyal to his family, so why sell him now?

On the whole, the situation was beyond comical. Jimmy was grinning, Clyde seemed set on killing him with a glare, Sadie attached to his arm again asking ‘Is that true, uncle Clyde’ over and over again until he finally mumbled something that sounded like ‘It was a long time ago’. He looked at me like a deer (or a moose) caught in the headlights and I could feel my own cheeks burning. I was in hell.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” I asked Mellie, who stood next to me, arms crossed and an amused smile playing on her face.

“‘Cause he’s a bit of a coward and you were infatuated with my other brother,” she kindly explained.

“Right.” Made sense. I still felt like something that I should have known about back then— who knows, I might have liked him back—or you know, forever hold your silence type of thing. But knowing this now explained a lot of things.

Now that the petty satisfaction that I had felt for embarrassing him had died down a little bit, I understood why Clyde rejected me and didn’t seem to react to my flirting. If someone I had been crushing on in my teens showed up on day, insulted me or trampled on my insecurities then tried flirting with me I would have been much less gracious in rejecting them than Clyde had been. Yes, it had been more than a decade since highschool, and I was pretty sure his crush on me was dead and buried (like the one I used to have on Jimmy), but it was something that could potentially still hurt after years. So once again I was flooded by guilt.

“Well, it was… uhh… fun meeting you guys, but I have to head back now,” I said, getting ready to bail. Enough embarrassment for a day. Served me right for wanting to get out of the safety of my home. Never again.

“Come on, we’ve just met and you wanna leave already?” Mellie said with a disappointed look on her face.

“It’s not that, I just have some things to do at home,” I tried excusing myself. “Give me your phone number and we can hang out another time,” I said fishing my phone out of my pocket.

“The things will still be there tomorrow, but you’re never getting back today,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“Wow, who knew my brother was a philosopher,” Mellie arched an eyebrow at him. I laughed.

“Please, Miss,” Sadie latched onto my hand, pulling me towards the booths. “Daddy said I’ll get to be your guide today, show you around the fair. Pleaaase.” How could you say no to a kid? Big-eyed, freckled, and more full of life than I’d ever been.

I looked over to Clyde who had returned to a somewhat normal shade, although there was still some pink tinting his cheeks. He still seemed highly uncomfortable about this whole thing, his whole body looking tense. I tried imagining what he felt: a week ago he was living a (supposedly) peaceful life and then Baby was back in town and he’d been insulted, hit on and then embarrassed by his brother in front of his family. If I’d been in his place, I would have faked my death and left the country by now.

“I don’t think I should…” I said, hoping that at least one of the siblings would take the hint and leave it be.

“Nonsense!” Jimmy proclaimed, patting me on the shoulder and nudging me towards Sadie. “Come stay with us a while and I promise you’ll have plenty of time to do whatever you were planning on doing.”

“Are you willing to help out?”

“If that’s what it takes…”

I snorted. “Half an hour then I’m gone,” I said, following them towards the booths. I send Clyde an apologetic look, hopefully he wouldn’t be bothered too much by my presence for the next half an hour. He seemed to have regained his composure and was following us closely.

Sadie was still holding my hand as we were mingling into the crowd of people staring at the attractions. She diligently explained to me what everything was, like it was my first time going to a country fair. It was entertaining to watch. She was a really cute kid and honestly, after so many days of self-imposed isolation, it was nice to interact with people in my free time.

“So, how’s it like being back in your hometown again?” Mellie asked, once Sadie ran over to her dad.

“Nice, peaceful.” Or that’s how it should have been, if I’d been a little smarter. “But it’s gonna take a bit of getting used to. It’s definitely keeping me busy. My roof just started leaking, something I never thought I’d have to experience, but hooray for adult life,” I laughed.

“Did you get it fixed?” she asked, a little concerned.

“No, not yet. Called a couple of contractors, but they didn’t have any opening this month.” I sighed. “I don’t have that many contacts in the area, but I’ll keep looking and hope there won’t be rain anytime soon.”

“That sucks,” she said and turned to her brother. “Hey Jimmy,” she yelled, “do you know anyone who can fix a roof?”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, truthfully. “It’s just raining into my living room.”

“I can come take a look when I’m free. If it’s not something big I can fix it for you.” He offered.

“Thanks, but…” Was I stupid enough to refuse? Yes.

“You don’t trust my skills?”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t want you to waste your free time fixing my leaky roof.” It wasn’t just that. I generally preferred to work with people I didn’t know, who were paid to do a job and with who I could argue at the end if the job wasn’t done properly. With friends and family, you just accept what you get, smile and then pay someone else to fix it later. Plus, if they refused payment, you’d have to find a way to make it up to them which meant more complications. And in this particular case I knew I shouldn’t be spending more time with Clyde or his family if I wanted my unrequited crush to die anytime soon. But how do I tell Jimmy that, when he seemed so eager to help?

“It’s no problem. I’ll take a look and if it’s something I can’t do, I’ll put you in touch with some people. When are you free?”

“Not sure, my schedule isn’t fully decided yet.”

“Then give me a call and we’ll see what works for the both of us. Clyde gimme your phone.” That earned him a frown from his brother.

“Why? What happened to your phone?” he said on what I guessed was a rather disapproving tone, but handed him the phone nonetheless.

“It’s broken.”

“He forgot to pay for it,” Sadie explained with a giggle.

“I didn’t forget, I’m not paying it in sign of protests to the shitty plan they forced down my throat,” he muttered. “Anyway, what’s your number?”

He punched in the number and gave me a call. I typed the name Clyde but then changed my mind and saved it as ‘Logan Bros’. Clyde never really wanted my number, so it was just a way for me to get in touch with Jimmy if I needed help. I decided to never call it unless the roof caught fire and I was trapped underneath.

The phone went back to Clyde and I saw him fiddle with it a bit, probably saving the number. I wondered what he saved me as. Probably used my real name, since I’d never heard him call me Baby. Although for some strange reason, I wouldn’t have minded even if he did. No matter how much I hated the nickname, I was sure I’d very much enjoy it if he moaned it in my ear as he pulled me closer to his chest and… stop. Restrain yourself, woman.

Sadie kept her promise and was a very good guide, which meant I was now very well acquainted with everything at the country fair. Jimmy had bought us corn dogs and cheesy fries and donuts and refused to let me pay for anything, so I retaliated by buying everyone snow cones and funnel cake. By the time we reached the shooting galleries, I was so full I was ready to burst.

As Sadie was searching the booths for the toy she wanted I bought a bottle of water, hoping to wash away the nausea caused by all that deep fried food I had shoved down my throat earlier. Seeing that Clyde had fallen behind and we could finally be alone for a bit, I decided to go and talk to him.

“Sorry for crashing your family outing,” I said, standing besides him as we both watched Sadie’s quest to find the best toy. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s alright” he said, briefly glancing at me. “I have to apologize for how my brother acted today. I guess he’s just excited that you’re back in town. He doesn’t have that many friends.”

I had to admit that Jimmy Logan being lonely and not surrounded by hordes of friends was something that I would have never imagined. But I could see it now, after all we were both in the same position: two formerly popular kids that had fallen from grace and were now regular nobodies. Most friendships we made in our teens weren’t the kind that lasted a lifetime.

“I’m actually really enjoying this,” I said, trying to open the water bottle and failing. My hands were still very greasy from all that deep fried food. “But don’t tell anyone or I have a feeling I might get friend-dopted by your family and you’ll never get rid of me,” I said with a wink, to which he smiled. An actual smile. Directed at me.

“Lemme help you with that,” he said, noticing my pathetic attempt at opening the bottle. He held it under his left arm, effortlessly unscrewing the cap.

“I’m completely useless” I mumbled retrieving the bottle, and he chuckled.

In the meantime Sadie seemed to have found what she was looking for and dragged both Clyde and me towards one of the booths. She showed him what he wanted and after paying he was given a shabby airgun. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone look at a rifle with more contempt in their eyes. I was certain he was used to a different type of guns, especially since he had been in the military.

“Piece of crap,” he mumbled, to no one in particular, disgust clear in his voice.

“Welcome to the glamorous world of carnivals, Mr. Logan,” I laughed.

He shot me a dirty look and aimed. He missed the first two targets, but got the other three. It was still quite impressive, I was sure the only thing I’d be able to hit with any rifle would be my foot, especially since everyone knows the games are rigged and the guns aim screwed on purpose. He paid for another round and I kept my fingers crossed. Sadie had climbed onto her father’s shoulders and was cheering from above.

This time he got the first target with very little effort. And the second one. And the third. By the fourth I was probably as excited as Sadie, although a little less vocal. The fifth target came down just as effortlessly as the others and both Sadie and I cheered loudly. The vendor faked excitement and handed him the toy, making a bit of a spectacle to attract other customers. ‘Look everybody, you can win even with one arm!’ he bragged, and I hated him already, but Clyde didn’t even seem to notice.

“Which one do you want?” he asked Mellie, after giving Sadie her toy.

“One of those,” she said, pointing to a bunch of little plushies that could be hanged on the rearview mirror.

“Alright,” he said, and paid for another round. This time, it seemed like he didn’t even have to aim. He just pointed the rifle and the targets went down one after another, to the vendor’s increased irritation and to my delight.

Clyde gave the toy to his sister who thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, then turned to me. “Which one do you want?”

“Me?” I said, taken by surprise. “You want to get me one too?”

Masterlist

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[willowlark369]

Relationship Status: Complicated

There’s no other way to say this.

I am fat. I haven’t always been that way. As a child, I was waif-thin, a fact that didn’t help my mother any when DFS began investigating her for neglect or potential abuse because my brother was rapidly dropping off the bottom of the weight chart. It looked particularly damning next to my other two siblings who were rather thick (not fat but certainly fatter than many felt appropriate for female children). Both my brother and I were small and thin, though, and often covered in bruises and bumps. It wasn’t from abuse (though looking back now, I can understand why DFS might have thought that, beyond the bruises). It was just the curse of active children who had very little padding to protect them when they inevitably fell or crashed.

My brother’s problem was actually relatively simple. He had hyperthyroidism. Once they realized the problem (which was made complicated by no one initially listening to my mother that yes, she was actually feeding him and could they please focus now because something’s clearly wrong) and worked out how to counter it long enough to get him to puberty where it straightened itself out, he stopped being so weedy. He grew up to be a very respectable 6′4″ with a linebacker’s build.

My problem wasn’t so simple. I would go through periods of time when I refused to eat foods that I had been obsessed with and wouldn’t eat anything else the week before. Most children hated trying new things, but I would seek out new flavors or textures and would tell everyone about the subtle differences in amounts of ingredients. I would go through periods of time when I was very sick with GI issues, for seemingly no reason, and my family’s home cure (crackers crumbled in milk) would only make it worse until I had spent a day or two just drinking jello water or Pedisure.

None of this was treated as something understandable. The explanations were things like picky eater and active imagination and stomach flu. It was only later, as an adult raising a child with similar issues, that I came across things like hyposensitivity, hyperesthesia, and lactose intolerance. It helped both Bug and I to know those words, and to understand that there were others with the same issue out there. I’m rather proud of Bug’s relationship with food, even with previous problem periods.

But I’m skipping parts.

When I was eight, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I was put on medication, of course, and that did help with the mood swings and the more obviously related symptoms. But the med had another effect, as meds often do. It suppressed my appetite. I wasn’t very good at remembering to eat anyway and had problems keeping food down a lot, and now I didn’t seem to have a hunger signal.

My body thought I was starving, which yeah, I probably was (again, looking back with the clarity of hindsight). So it did what humans are so fucking great at: it adapted to survive. It stored everything it could, everything not immediately necessary for biological functions. This was probably made very difficult by my habit of preferring vegetables and fruits to things that had easily made-into-fat parts like meats and dairy. Grains were the closest that I came, and even those, I tended to avoid because they tended to make me itchy or sick. (Later, I would learn about gluten and its effect on autoimmune disorders.)

By the time I was thirteen, I was 5′4″, the same height I am now in my thirties, and I had a stomach that made me look four to five months pregnant. My limbs were still waif-like, with very little padding, though. My body was storing the fat predominantly in the hardest place to get rid of it.

I started getting the comments. You probably know the ones.

Are you sure you should eat that?

Maybe you could do with skipping a few meals.

Have you tried exercising? Or X diet?

I was thirteen, and people, complete strangers, were making judgements. Even worse was when family members made similar comments. So I became self-conscious about eating in front of others, preferring to simply not, and I started trying to change the topic whenever it came up. Being prone to research anyway, I started looking up diets and exercises with what could only be termed as obsessive compulsion.

And I grew thicker around the middle, while doctors and nurse tisked over my risking BMI and blamed the worsening health issues on overeating and simply eating the wrong things. Trying so hard to be healthy, I tried to follow their advice. I kept a food journal, only to be constantly reminded that I needed to include everything I ate or drank, not just what I thought they wanted to see. I cut portions and even skipped meals. I gave up sauces and dressings.

I stayed fat and got fatter. My body and I were at war with each other, both trying to do the best thing to keep me alive.

I got pregnant, complicating things further as hormones, morning sickness, and food cravings got added to the mix. Oh, and stress, as I failed to skip periods and nearly had a panic attack every single time I started, not even able to be comforted by movement most of the time because of the fat I carried around my middle having a “muffling” effect.

Things didn’t get better. For a long time, everything kept getting worse. Medical personnel would treat whatever health issues I had as a symptom of being overweight and their advice was always the same: cut portions, don’t eat X, and exercise more. If they had me keep a food journal, I would always face the accusation, both direct and not, of not recording everything or not doing so correctly. As I became the primary income as well caregiver for my daughters, I didn’t have time to exercise, but no one asked about the miles I walked back and forth to work or to run errands or chasing the girls around the park.

I was fat, so fat must be the problem.

Then my insurance stopped covering my med, and I had to switch. The new one had an even worse effect than merely suppressing hunger. It still did that, but it also caused weight gain. I gained sixty pounds in under three months. Already stressed as it was, my body couldn’t handle pushing 300 pounds, and my pancreas started having issues producing insulin.

I became diabetic. Only the diet they suggested didn’t help and in fact seemed to make everything even worse, with “weird” reactions like starches making my blood sugar plummet while “safe” foods like carrots or tomatoes making it skyrocket. The nutritionist I was assigned to scratched her head and assigned a food journal, and suggested a step monitor with daily recording but no set goal.

Then she did what no one else had ever done: she believed me when I said that I was recording everything, and doing so correctly. Do you know what looking at the data provided without assumption did? It revealed that I was routinely struggling to go over 1000 calories a day while I was routinely burning over 3500 calories in the same time frame. There was often days were I had caloric intakes of less than 500 because I had simply forgot to eat.

Disordered eating is what she called it, not deliberate enough to be anorexia, but still a problem. She pulled a Remus Lupin and instead of telling me to cut portions, she said eat and you’ll feel better. She recommended telling my psychiatrist to find another med and to not take ‘no’ for answer this time. This can’t continue, she said, or you’ll die.

She brought up that there were two types of diabetics: starch and sugar. Most diabetics are starch diabetics who benefit from avoiding things like bread, pasta, and potatoes while heaping on veggies indiscriminately. But sugar diabetics were different and really efficient at digesting simple sugars like those found in fruit and certain veggies which made their blood sugar spike just the same as candy but they benefited from ingesting more complex carbs like starches.

She brought up how studies had been showing that more than just celiacs needed to avoid gluten, that it caused flare-ups in everyone with autoimmune disorders which psoriasis had been discovered to be. She pointed out that I was likely lactose intolerant just like my Bug and how the same sources of dairy that were safe for her would be safe for me.

Don’t listen to them, she said, when they assume what makes fat. And she pointed me in the direction of nutritional (not diet) research. She gave me a list of tips on how to eat and things to discuss with my therapist, who was less enthused with the nutritionist’s conclusion about the importance of eating more instead of less, because I was fat so obviously couldn’t have any kind of eating disorder unless it was binging or overeating.

The therapist wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand. Family members continued to suggest whatever diet they were on or had heard about or just to not eat. But now I was armed with knowledge and the voice of a tiny redhead saying eat to get well or you’ll die, because you’ve been dying for a long time.

It’s not a magical fix. I still struggle. I still don’t like eating in front of others, preferring to either not or to get that part of things done as quickly as possible. I have mixed reactions to being asked if I should be eating things or if I think I should cut back. I still forget to eat sometimes, even though I’m getting better about remembering and most days now I remember at least one meal.

At 246 pounds and 5′4″, I’m fat and overweight, obese. People still judge me when I discuss having health issues, both mental and physical, and they still assume that it’s the fault of the weight instead of the weight just being a part of it. They still assume it’s my fault, a choice I made instead of a reaction to things.

My relationship with food is complicated and difficult to explain.

I just thought I would share, in case there is someone else out there in a similar situation, someone dying without knowing it and haven’t met their own tiny redhead to tell them to eat to get better.

You are not alone.

It’s okay to have a complicated relationship with food.

Eat.

[casnovakisded]

I’m back.

03/03/18 | 04:14am

So... life’s a bit shitty at the moment, and I just remembered that Tumblr exists.

I don’t really talk to anyone anymore and I think it would be good for me to vent to you guys. I had a meeting with a super sweet manager at work today and it gave me a little bit of hope. We touched on talking to people and just venting and how that can help, so i’m going to give it a go. Honestly, I think going through work to try and rebuild my mental health is my only viable option at the moment, which kind of sucks because I can’t often mentally deal with being at work right now. I’m getting ahead of myself - more on that later.

So, to those who may be reading this that don’t know me (If anyone’s reading this), i’ve been juggling anxiety, depression, (undiagnosed) bipolar, eating disorders and (undiagnosed) schizophrenia since I was around 14 (I’m 20, nearly 21 now), and i’ve only just started to try and get help.

I was forced to go to the doctors when I was younger by my mum when I opened up to her about harming. She told me that I was to stop, and if I didn’t, ‘they’ would come and take me away and lock me in a room until I was ‘better’. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame my mum at all for saying that. She panicked, and as far as i’m aware she’s never suffered with any mental health issues, so I don’t imagine there’s too much of an understanding there. She was trying to scare me out of it, but it just made me feel like I couldn’t talk about it. It kind of became a grey area that we just didn’t really discuss so I just got on with it and mostly just learned how to be secretive. 

From that point on i’ve always told everyone of importance that i’m fine, because that’s better than being locked in a room until i’m better, y’know? Don’t get me wrong, I knew then and I know now that that’s not going to happen, and that I just need help, but I can’t say it doesn’t make me feel anxious every time I go to the doctors. It’s a feeling I don’t quite understand, but then again, I don’t really understand any of my feelings. Woo. 

So from the beginning... 

I started harming when I was around 14. I don’t really know why I did it - probably a mixture of being bored, sad and exposed to a lot of triggering material. Like I mentioned earlier, I opened up to my mum about it because we had a super good relationship, and I felt like I was lying to her in some way by not telling her that i’d done it. What was said was said, and that was that. I was made to go to a doctor’s appointment at 7.30am the next morning (Which was actually before the practice even opened so I think that was just a bit overboard tbh). I couldn’t understand a word of what the doctor was saying (that wasn’t meant in any kind of negative racial way, I just simply couldn’t understand what he was saying because of his heavy accent), I could just tell from his tone of voice that he was being patronising as fuck. By the end of the super drawn out and generally painful doctors appointment, I was referred to CAMHS. So off I went to this appointment with this top dog guy at CAMHS (We’d recently had a fair amount of young suicides in our area so they were pretty onit). It was an odd session. My mum was there and she was obviously going off on one about how terrible it was and how I had to stop, and then this doctor guy is trying to convince her to not take away my blades because at the end of the day, i’m only going to find something bigger and sharper.. oh it got interesting. I sat silent more or less the whole way through, but I smiled and I nodded and I said I felt fine when I needed to.

After this appointment, the doctor concluded that I had symptoms of anxiety and depression due to previous emotional trauma and that I could totally be fixed with counselling sessions from my school counsellor. I played along and I remember speaking to the woman once. Again - I smiled, and I nodded and I said I felt fine when I needed to. 

I didn’t go again. 

Having anxiety, depression and being bipolar all at the same time is just fucking exhausting. 

First of all: depression. My depression makes me feel lazy, and menial tasks just seem like an awful lot of effort. I showered yesterday, for the first time in around a week and a half. My house hasn’t been cleaned in a loooong time. Talking? That’s becoming an effort (which is really annoying because my job requires me to talk to people all day. I’m still brushing my teeth every day though, so that’s good. 

Anxiety. This makes me feel like nobody cares, that i’m a burden to everybody, everyone would be better off without me, people would prefer it if I wasn’t there, people are talking about me, people are making fun of me, people are looking at me and judging me. Anxiety also makes me bite my nails, a lot. I don’t even know how I bite my nails so far down, but it sometimes gets to the point where I just don’t have a nail at all - like literally at all. Anxiety also makes me feel nauseous, and sometimes it feels like the world is literally going to end. If you’ve ever had a near death experience and felt the sense of impending doom, that’s probably the best thing I can relate it to. 

Lastly, bipolar. Oh the joys. So i’ve not been diagnosed with bipolar (As i’ve said, i’ve not really pursued help for my issues up until now), but one moment I will be on the highest high, nothing can defeat me, and i’m totally ready to face the world and whatever it wants to throw at me, and then the next moment everything’s gone grey and dull and the light at the end of my tunnel is actually a train that’s plummeting towards me, and I don’t want to move out of it’s way. 

So. Fucking. Exhausting. 

As you can imagine, having all of these all at once is just a big ol’ mess. It’s so draining (both mentally and physically), and it’s just proper difficult to try and balance all of the conflicting emotions.

Now imagine all of that, with an added voice in your head. Again, I’m not diagnosed with schizophrenia. It’s not something that was effecting me when I was younger, but it’s not something that i’ve managed to talk to anyone about yet either. There are very few people that do know this about me. It brings me back to my earlier point - if there’s one thing that’s going to get me locked in a room until i’m better, it’s hearing voices in my head that aren’t real - surely. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all the time - It’s mostly when i’m tired. I don’t even know if it’s schizophrenia, but what I do know is that when i’m in a bad way and i’ve had little sleep, I can hear a voice clear as day in my head. Mostly it just repeats things, usually what i’m thinking, usually not very nice things. It’s almost like your own inner voice, but it’s loud, as if i’m listening to it through headphones. It’s funny actually, i’m as good as deaf in my left ear, but I swear to god I can hear that voice in surround sound. I’ve been tired quite a lot lately, so y’know, that kind of sucks.

Eating disorders are just shit. There’s no other way to describe them. Whether you: restrict yourself, purge, fast, over eat, binge, or like myself, just don’t eat until someone forces you to, it’s all just really shit. It’s a mixture of an addiction, and extreme emotion. It’s a mixture of wanting to be as pretty and as perfect as you can be, and feeling like this is the only way you can make yourself worth something, whilst also feeling like you have to keep going, you owe it to yourself, you feel like you have no control if you slip up and eat. Obviously i’m aware that not eating is not healthy. I know that. You need to eat to stay alive and you can’t expect your body to function correctly if you don’t look after it, I know. I only have myself to blame for the fact that i’m dizzy all the time, and I always need to wee because the only thing I ever consume is tea, and that every time I stand up everything goes black for a short while - like when you get head rush from standing up to quick. As much as I know that all of this can just be solved by eating, what’s to say that’s going to be the better alternative? When I start putting on a fuck ton of weight because I feel too depressed and fed up to actually exercise and I inevitably start taking that out on myself, what position does that leave me in? I’d rather be sad and skinny than sad and fat. I guess my point is that eating disorders suck - they manipulate the way you see yourself and convince you that you’re never going to be good enough, for anyone. 

I’ve always hated the way I look. I lost all of my hair (head, eyebrows, most of my eyelashes) when I was around 13 and this opened a whole new world to me. A whole world of bullies, unnecessary comments, staring, and laughing. My school made the situation a million times worse. Apparently it was too much of a distraction for me to sit in class with my bald head on show, so I was forced to wear a wig through school. I was given £500 from the school to spend on wigs, so I bought 2 of the exact same style. 

They were horrible.

Wigs are uncomfortable. They’re hot and itchy, and they’re basically a massive flashy sign that says ‘bully me’ - great when you’re in a room full of other 13/14 year old kids that simply do not give a fuck about how you feel or how their comments may affect you.

Recent events over the last, let’s say, 4 years of my life have really fucked me up. I think i’m going to write a post for each event in the hopes that maybe writing down what happened will help me process it and eventually get over it, but I quite simply can not be bothered to do that right now after typing this essay.

In the last 4/5 months, i’ve been actively trying to work on my mental health through my GP/seeking help through work and friends. Well what a task it has been. 

Originally, I was advised by a manager at work to go to my GP. I can’t quite remember whether I went to my GP or to the EAP line (Employee Assistance Programme - provided through work) first, but either way that was 4/5 months ago, and i’m still awaiting some kind of solution or action plan. I just feel defeated most of the time. It seems that every avenue I go down just gets blocked off - every turn is just a dead end and I can’t for the life of me figure it out. When I went to the doctors, they told me I had a ‘mood disorder’ and an ‘eating disorder’. I was signed off work for 2 weeks, and then instructed to make another appointment to go back to the GP (the first date they could see me was around 4 weeks after my return date to work from being signed off, so that was super good). When I went back to the GP, I was referred to IAPT (Improving Access to Psychological Therapies) and SYEDA (South Yorkshire Eating Disorder Association). I was given a date, a time, and a name of a person that would be calling me from IAPT, and I was instructed to self refer myself to SYEDA. I was also given a fit note stating that amended/shorter hours could be beneficial. The date came for the IAPT phone call, but the phone never rang. I tried to chase them up, but apparently they weren’t allowed to discuss the account with me because it was booked through my GP. When I tried to get through to my GP, their line was just constantly engaged. When I had a look into SYEDA, the first thing that popped up in a banner across the top of the page was a message saying “Our waiting list is currently closed to all new referrals other than those referring from Barnsley”. 

Well i’m not from Barnsley so that’s really great, thank you.

I went back to the doctors to let them know of my super successes with IAPT and SYEDA. To my surprise, apparently it was my fault that I had ‘missed my appointment’ with IAPT, even though I never actually received the call. All they could say about SYEDA was, ‘oh’.

When I finally had an assessment with IAPT, they said I had scored too high on their risk assessment and that someone would be in contact super quickly to talk to me about what we can do next, but i’m still awaiting that phone call. 

I don’t even know how many phone calls and doctors appointments i’ve had. I just want someone to help. I feel absolutely drained and I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m just sat waiting. I’m not living because all I can focus on is trying to get through the day without breaking down into a big emotional mess.

I’m not actively suicidal all of the time, it’s more like.. if I was being held at gun point, I’d probably piss him/her off on purpose. Or, if a car was speeding towards me and I could probably jump out of the way in time, I think i’d just let it hit me. 

I don’t know.

I’m lost.

I don’t really know what i’m doing on a day-to-day basis, and i’m currently just scraping by.

I guess i’ll keep you updated.

[fairycosmos]

tw!! im bulimic but im trying to do better. i never binge, so i just purge small amounts of food. lately ive just wanted to restrict. not completely, but to where ill be able to feel better abt myself without purging. but the more i think abt not eating, the more i want to eat n it just makes me feel even worse n idk what to do. i have a hard time talking abt this bc im at a healthy weight, i know im sick but i have a hard time believing it bc my body doesnt show it. its just been a hard cycle.

hey love, im so sorry to hear that :(( i completely understand how difficult it is and honestly, a lot of people do. i think the thing is, is that there is no sustainable answer in the realm of eating disorders - restricting leads to major health problems and extended periods of depression, as does continuing to purge everything you eat. so as long as you're chasing those prospects, you're never going to achieve the satisfaction you crave. your brain will lie to you of course, trying to convince you that your goals are attainable and 'not a big deal', but that's a line of thinking that will only perpetuate the cycle. i'm really proud of you for choosing to try and do better. and i think a big part of that is realizing that you can't continue indulging the same urges that got you here in the first place, if you want to progress. obviously i'm not saying it's possible to just stop, to suddenly develop a healthy relationship with food and your body. it's not that simple, and i fully recognize the gravity of the situation. which is why i believe it may be time to seriously look into seeking help even if your mind is screaming at you and telling you not to. it doesn't matter that you're at a healthy weight - eating disorders are mental illnesses, not primarily physical ones, for a reason. what you're doing is still harmful to your organs, your emotional state, your relationship with yourself, your future etc. the list goes on. when your mind tells you that its 'not bad enough' to get help, that's a sign that is is, because you're trying to rationalize what is hurting you. that alone is not healthy. i get that reaching out seems like an impossible task in this moment, but it doesn't have to be. the hardest part is taking the initial step, and then you realize its what you should have been doing the whole time, even if its really hard. it's not hard in the same way that struggling alone is. idk where you live or what your life situation is like, but there must be some mental health resources in your area. there are ED hotlines you can call and ED recovery websites that offer coping mechanisms and advice on how to advance in your recovery. you can just start with those at first, it's totally fine to take this at your own pace. or if you want to begin with your parents or a friend, that's completely understandable. being honest with your support system is important. as long as you keep the possibility of talking to your doctor, or a support group, in the back of your mind as a viable option. don't write if off no matter how scared you are. talking to a professional will give you a much needed additional perspective, a place to open up, and a care plan to help you deal with the bad days. they will also enable you to identify the root causes of your issues. it's not about being instantly cured, it's just about understanding that you have to try. whatever 'trying' means to you. could just be lying in bed holding yourself back from purging. it all counts. learning to differentiate between disordered thoughts and trustworthy ones is really an irreplaceable skill that you WILL learn through therapy and opening up. and i believe in u, i know you can make that choice. even if you have to work up to it. i promise it has nothing to do with being 'ill enough.' you're bulimic, that is a disease no matter the extent of it, and you deserve treatment. it's not a competition. i really hope you're ok and that you're able to get to a place of, if not self love, self neutrality. where you no longer feel bad about nourishing yourself. im sending you a lot of love. i'll be here if you need a friend 💌

[haydenstudiesblog-blog]

i'm starting my sophomore year of high school soon and i'm completely stressing out. i finished freshman year 4th in my class and a uw gpa of 98 and w gpa of 103.3. (my gc hasnt converted it to the 4.0/5.0 scale for me yet). i'm beyond nervous for this year because i now have such high expectations for myself. i'm also taking 2 college level classes and i don't know if i will be able to handle the workload. can you give me some tips on handling stress/doing well in rigorous courses ? thank you !

Well first let me just say this: you remind me so much of myself and my boyfriend right now in the fact that you’re giving yourself such high expectations and you’re already stressing about meeting them! Take a moment to relax; a tip I have yet to actually practice myself is to relax. If you aren’t relaxed, you’re just going to stress yourself out even more, if that makes sense. If you walk in with a bunch of stress and worries, they will only get worse.

I, myself, am in college and am taking on an overload and I took 2 summer classes, neither of which I have ever done before. I was nervous and I really needed to do well, and I knew that. I had my heart set on doing well, and I took/am taking the time to sit down and give all of my attention to the work I need to get done... and I did well, and I’m still doing well!

Relax. Don’t worry before you have anything to worry about.

Make sure you make time to do the things you enjoy doing, whether that be reading, binge watching some Netflix, vegging out on the couch for a couple of hours. A lot of people say that you have to stay productive 24/7, but in my experience that’s not the case. That’s how you get burnt out. Stay productive, maybe, 12/5?

Obviously, put your work first. It sounds like you know this and have put it into good practice, since you did SO SO SO well your freshman year, but I’ll hammer it in again anyway. Do any readings you have ahead of time so that once you’re in class or you finally get to that section/chapter, you already have at least some understanding of it and you can have questions prepared in case something doesn’t get covered in class. Get your homework done as soon as possible. That may not be directly after school because some people (like myself) have to eat something before they can be productive, or have extra curricular activities, or whatever. As soon as you are home for the evening, get your work done. If you don’t have anything due the next day, get a head start on projects or homework that is due later on. Always do at least something productive at the end of the day.

Important: have a planner, especially since you are taking a heavy workload! It will be important to have all of your assignments listed in one place. I’m not sure how your high school works, if you will know your assignments ahead of time or not. If you know them ahead of time, write them in your planner. If you don’t know them ahead of time, write them in as you hear about them.

Your college classes will probably have syllabi and will hopefully have due dates listed. When I write in my due dates, I prefer to write the assignment under the day that I want to work on it, not the day it is actually due. So if I have homework due on a Thursday, I would write it in my planner on the Tuesday before so I know to work on it. If that makes sense.

Stay organized. If you are losing assignments left and right you’re going to stress even more. Also, I like to keep all of my assignments even after I’m done taking a class because you’d be surprised at how many classes in college actually kind of overlap a little in terms of topics that are covered. Anyway, I’m taking 6 classes, so I have 2 separate 3-subject notebooks and each class has its own section. I would probably recommend getting a folder for each class as well. You could also get a binder to keep everything in so it’s all in one place, but that’s not required; I personally don’t use a binder, but that’s just personal preference.

After that, if you have time (which I hope you do, you should definitely TRY to make time), do your fun stuff. Do your vegging out in front of the TV or free-reading or what have you. You need to make time for the fun stuff, even if it’s just reading one chapter of a book before bed or watching one episode on Netflix. Even hanging out with friends, because that’s important in high school. Mental health is important as well, don’t forget. CRUCIAL. Mental health is CRUCIAL. If you need to take a mental health day, take it; you’d be surprised at how understanding teachers/professors can be when it comes to mental health.

Incentives: in my creative writing class, our professor gave us little calendars and each day we sit down and write (or are productive in some form that relates to writing, like jotting down ideas or something), we can mark off the day. I gave myself incentives to write. For example: if I write every day for a full week, I can pick an evening to binge-watch my favorite show all night, BUT I have to plan accordingly (do homework the night before or just plan it for a night I know I won’t have any homework). I have other incentives that get better and better the longer I go without taking a day off from writing. This could be hard for someone in high school to do, because it might be hard to tell when you’re going to have homework or not. My recommendation would be to get all of your homework done the day it is assigned, and if you do that every day for a full week then maybe give yourself a night off or plan a night with friends or something. My incentives go: 1 full week, 1 full month, 2 full months, 3 full months, 4 full months. I stopped at 4 months because that’s how long a semester is, and that’s when I would potentially get my biggest reward (order Stitch Fix because I’ve been wanting to try it). After 4 full months the cycle would start over, assuming I made it 4 full months of writing every day. It should also be noted that I have weekends as exceptions, but they are bonuses if I choose to write on the weekends.

Most of all: don’t get discouraged if you don’t do quite as well as you hope. I have total confidence in you, my beautiful little Anonymous land mermaid, but you need to have confidence in yourself. This is something I have learned the hard way. Have confidence in yourself, and if you don’t do as well as you hope, don’t get down. You have a heavy load, and if some things fall through the cracks (maybe you forgot to do a little assignment), it’s not a big deal. Because you’ll nail all the other assignments and make up for it. If you allow yourself to get down and discouraged and worry too much (worrying when necessary is okay, worrying when not necessary is not healthy), it will have a negative effect on your work and your well-being. Believe me, I know, it’s a slippery slope. Of course it’s easier said than done, but as long as you make sure you give yourself plenty of time at the end of the day to get those assignments done and then have a little free time to do your fun stuff, you’ll be okay.

Just a side note: if you go through my #haydenstudiesblog tags you can see a couple of posts I made about how I have been taking notes lately in terms of color-coding them to stay engaged both in class and at home while I’m just doing reading assignments. I’ve found that using fun colors actually has been helping me stay productive, surprisingly enough.

I hope these tips helped at least a little! If anyone would like to add, feel free! I’m sorry that it’s kind of all over the place, but I wanted to do it off the top of my head and just keep adding based off of my own experience and what I personally do. I may have left some things out that I wanted to include, but hey, being scatter-brained goes hand-in-hand with taking on a heavy workload (just a warning, I promise it won’t last forever).

[dstrolgy]

Hey. 👋🌿✨

Hey. It’s been long since I’ve written something, the typical reason would be, busy busy and busy. I suppose I haven’t really felt like writing anything until today. For the past month of isolating myself from writing and just reflecting on myself, it hasn’t been easy for me. Sleepless nights with nothing but the sound of my fan going, just thinking of different outcomes, the things I could have done better, the things I could have avoided, everything. To say that it feels okay and normal for me not being able to express my feelings to people could possibly be a lie but I know at the end of everything, I only have myself to depend on, to care for, if not me then who else, right ?

Let’s talk about this month, it hasn’t been all great, in fact if I were to give it a rough gauge on how things have been for me, I’d give it a 2/5. My life resolves on a routine nowadays, waking up for my morning prayers and turning to my cellphone hoping to receive a text from yours truly, to watching some random YouTube videos which can be entertaining on certain days before showering and having breakfast. I'll try to clean my room maybe about 3-4 times a week because I realise now I just don't like feeling messy, lol. Anyway, I’ll still somehow end up sleeping after breakfast because that’s literally how tired I can be sometimes or maybe due to those nights where I just find it hard to sleep, obviously not missing any of my prayers. If I plan to go out that day or have plans with my friends then things would be slightly different from the usual routine which consist of mostly of sleeping, eating, binge-watching some Netflix series or movies which I find interesting. At times, I’ll take my mother out to my nearest shopping mall just to “window-shop” for things but I’ll end up buying things for myself and her, which is weird but don’t really see it as a problem, I love her, a lot. Well, there are other things I do but I’ll just keep those things to myself as of now, NOT exactly what you are thinking, something I find quite pleasing and actually worth the effort and time for. Then comes night time where I’ll just sit on my bed thinking, reminiscing, reflecting on myself. My sleeping pattern is really weird, there can be days where I’ll sleep as early as 9 pm and other days where it will be 4 am. I promise, I’m really trying to sort out my life, slowly but surely. I almost forgot, I’m glad to have recently found a part-time job to help with my expenses and bills. I just hope people at work aren’t hard to deal with and are okay, Knowing me, I’ll try to mix around but if I have to isolate then so be it.

It’s weird because in that whole one month I had to actually just update on how I’m doing or at least a little post, I chose today the day where I am still slowly recovering from tonsillitis and a fairly high fever. These few days has definitely not been easy for me, I remember the day I started feeling sick was at night. I could literally feel my whole body falling apart, the fever just slowly rising and rising, but knowing my stubborn ass, wouldn’t confront anybody until the next day, so I basically did not manage to get any rest that day, which make the following day worse. I felt so uncomfortable at every possible angle I was resting, a complete loss of appetite because of the pain when swallowing. I’ve never felt so shitty about myself since December 2016, this for another post, hopefully. I’m just glad I’m recovering slowly from this sickness, I miss being healthy but I guess I’ll have to live with it for a few days or weeks.

Love life. Well, having recently went through a break up as I assume most of you knows. I actually don’t see myself going into the dating scene anytime soon, by soon I’m talking years, not months, but who knows probably never aha. To me, it’s not just about being ready or the fact that you’ve moved on be it completely or not. It’s more to being able to understand and know yourself and the needs rather than the wants in your life. Don’t get me wrong but dating and starting over with someone new is mentally and physically is hard because we don’t know their main intention or if they’re actually interested, etc. It’s not something I want or even look forward to now. As of now, it’s only fair for me to lay low and improve on becoming a better person as a whole, I’ve done a lot of wrongs and things I’ll never be proud of till this day, I carry it with me. I’ll love again, hopefully someday, just not now.

It’d be a total lie if I said I’ve completely moved on from yours truly. In this month, I still wake up on most days missing her, but that’s really all I can do right ? Miss. Maybe I’m not able to be there with her physically like before but I know I’ll always care for her from afar, maybe I won’t know how you’re feeling on certain days, but if you’re reading this somehow. No idea how many times I’ve repeated it but I just want to let you know that, I’ll still here for you despite anything that happens. Know that I’ll always pray for your happiness, safety and health as you face the most difficult thing in the world called “life”. You're still remain the most strongest woman I’ve met throughout my almost 20 years. I may not know what you’re doing right now, or where you are but I hope you’re doing just fine. Maybe you’ve found someone worth fighting for, maybe you haven’t, I really do not know but I hope whatever it is, I want you to know, you’ll always have a special place in my heart. We may not be able to see each other like before but I’ll acknowledge you, if I see you in school or wherever, because at the end of the day, you’re still the only girl who understands my feelings beneath everything. I miss you so very much, I really do. I still do reminisce or talk to my friends about our good days and only that whenever I miss you, which usually ends in tears. I still listen to our song on a daily, knowing there’s always you in my heart. The 4 years spent with you has been an amazing one. I’m sorry for everything that happened, I’ll always pray that maybe one day, when we’re a little older and wiser, we’ll meet again on a sunset just talk about the silly things we did in the past and perhaps just continue where we left off.

Well then I guess, that’s about it. This took me a good 2 hours to type because I swear I still feel uncomfortable from this sickness. I’ll promise to write more whenever I’m free. Ciao x

[singlemominpiyamas-blog]

5.2.20. 2:17 AM

My broken heart cracks easily like an egg. My fragile exterior bursting revealing a beautiful yellow interior, splatting on the pan of my trauma, fried and gently placed over cheesy grits. The delicious combo of trauma that’s comforting and delicious yet not the best for my health over time. 

I’m gonna die of clogged arteries if I don’t chill out. I’ve been reading The Body Keeps The Score. It’s a book on how trauma literally affects every organ. 

I cannot fathom doing the things other people have done to me. I have exposed so many people for being shady or bad but I still feel this void within myself. The void of the sum of the things that they did to me that have made me feel small enough to fit into their empty places. 

I am a distraction. 

Much of my relationships have been distractions from my own success. It’s reciprocal. Much of my relationships were distractions from trauma. Toxic. Lusty. Short. Toxic. Forced. Toxic. Sexually charged and empty interactions to fill the time between silent realizations of unhappiness and incompatibility. 

For example: 

My exes have similar family backgrounds: Emotionally absent fathers with extensive trauma issues who coped with said trauma with some sort of substance abuse. A loving mother who stayed with their dad no matter what happened, lacked boundaries and were the “tough tom boys” of their families. These dudes were either the youngest or only child.

The only person who does not fit this description is the first guy I ever “dated.”

I analyze every person that comes into my life to protect myself. 

The more I know about the past and the reoccurring patterns that have adversely affected my life, the more likely I am to prevent them from happening again and causing further damage. That’s what healing is supposed to do. That’s stopping the cycle. That’s what years of therapy and journaling are supposed to do. Get you to analyze what you’re doing and the reasons why. 

You’re studying yourself.  

My failures or mediocrity have scared me into complacency. Once dysfunction becomes commonplace, it’s the norm. It becomes the daily grind. If you grow up in dysfunction, inevitably if not properly treated, you will become a toxic person. 

If you didn’t have the proper support after a traumatizing event, you are more likely to develop PTSD or other mental health issues. Toxicity will become a part of your relationships. If you do not know how to deal with trauma in a healthy way, self-sabotage will become a survival mechanism you will be unable to turn off. 

Drinking, drug use, gambling, copious amounts of sex, binge eating, disordered eating, eating disorders, excessive exercising, risky behaviors like speeding and etc, are not going to make you feel better and will only traumatize you more. 

Misery isn’t a vibe. Dysfunction doesn’t have to be a vibe. We can heal and it hurts different. It hurts less. It doesn’t hurt worse. 

When we journal, reach out, participate in the things we love, be creative, make goals, cut toxic people out of our lives and etc, we make space for growth. We pick up the clutter of our traumas, we weed out those memories and dispose of them with care, we have space for growth and good people in our lives who want healthy relationships with us and themselves. 

Right now, I’m blaring good music in my ear phones, typing at nearly 2 AM about how I feel while hoping it reaches someone that needs to hear it because it makes me feel good to know I’m helping someone heal by feeling less alone. 

Also, this is better than what self-destructive behavior I typically have no business engaging in at this time. 

Making a positive impact on the world before I die has got to be the biggest goal I have for myself. I want to be remembered as someone who tried their best but it’s difficult because I can’t be perfect. Eventually, I’m going to mess up or something will be revealed about me that disappoints people. What can I do about that? 

Nothing. 

So *swerve* I can’t worry about that. What I can’t control in this life, I can’t ruminate on.   

What COVID-19 has taught me has been to move with the punches. You only can depend on yourself. Money really does help get what I need to get done, done. 

So, I have been applying to different places and got a job at a grocery store, the other day. I am attempting to secure employment during a pandemic because of the future economic collapse that is evolving before our eyes but I can’t freak out about that too much because I can only control what I got in front of me. 

I can’t make anyone love me. I can’t make a relationship work, one sided. I can’t expect myself to be perfect. I can’t control the economic future. 

I can control who I have in my life because I can positively affect my emotional well-being by cutting them out of my life. I can control how I react to adversity. Even if I feel out of control, I have every right to stop what I’m doing and do something more productive and conducive for my mental health. I don’t have to act crazy for attention. I can be myself and attract positive attention from people who like me instead of acting like a clown for one person. 

Just because you can make people laugh doesn’t mean they’re cheering you on. Some of them are so bored and/or apathetic, they don’t care that the clown has feelings. They don’t share your goofy nature. They think you’re weak and they prey on that perceived weakness. They see joy as naivety. They only want to be entertained and oh what fun it is to watch a train wreck of clowns. *cough cough* 

I can definitely say that I am a train wreck of clowns and I don’t want to be anymore but it’s a comfort zone for me. The dark humor doesn’t help. 

Love and attention are not the same things. 

If they care, they’ll be there for you. You shouldn’t have to show off for attention. You shouldn’t have to crash their crib or throw stuff at them for them to care about you. 

Plus, people experience their emotions in different ways. Some people shut down. Other people feel nothing. Some people stop caring about everything but then you can’t control how people react to life. 

Some people throw things. Yell. Get loud. 

But if you stop to think about why someone does something, it makes sense. I get loud when I argue with my partner because I feel unheard. I feel like what I have to say doesn’t matter to them and when I get angry I yell so they can hear what I have to say. Obviously, that’s not how one gets their point across. That’s the maturity talking. 

I have control of the volume of my voice and if I feel repeatedly insulted and unheard, I need to walk away depending on the type of relationship. Either, I have to walk away or make things work but if making things work didn’t work, I’m going to have to walk away. It’s simple, really. 

If you’re unheard, you’re being disrespected so WALK AWAY! 

If you know that someone will be unable to love you the way you deserve to be loved, walk away because that‘s the most selfish type of love. You know you can’t fix them. You know you can’t make them love you. How will they ever make you happy if they’re going to be miserable with you? 

Have you seen Bruce Almighty? Not even God can make someone love you. The Universe cannot create love. You are love.You have to find and create that for yourself.  

You have to love yourself and achieve your goals or you’ll never find happiness. You have to pursue your own joy in this life in order to feel fulfilled or you’ll never have fulfilling relationships. 

How do you expect a relationship to manufacture something you’ve never felt on your own? 

Whatever energy you put out into the Universe will come back to you. You are a part of Karma. Whatever good you put out there, will come back to you. Whatever bad, will go into the world and come back to you. That balance is what redeems the imperfection it is to be human. 

Life doesn’t have to be suffering but you need to focus on the rainbows. You have to cling onto the joyous moments that make you who you are today or you will be consumed by tragedy. You will become unrecognizable. 

Your identity will become trauma if you do not remember the good things that made you who you are today. Yes, the bad made you who you are too but so did the good. 

You’ll get sucked back into toxic relationships and repeat past traumas until you become aware of those patterns and offsetting them with who you actually are and what actually brings you joy. 

Do you like to paint? What hobbies did you have as a kid? Did you like being inside or outside more? Have you ever been interested in cooking? Do you like fashion? Have you ever wanted to play video games, soccer, DnD, go on a hike, try a new type of food and etc? Do it. 

Have you drank coffee by yourself in a restaurant? Gone to a movie by yourself? Whatever is the thing you want to do or try, do it because it will help you see your goals. It will help you feel fulfilled. 

If you were never loved by your parents or not properly loved or felt neglected in some way somehow by the important people in your life, of course you’re going to be conditioned to love in a dysfunctional way. 

But why be miserable?

Why be miserable because of that? 

Find yourself before you commit to someone who may potentially not value or love you the way you need to be valued and loved. You should not have to beg for love, act like a clown or hide yourself in some way to appease someone. 

Love you. 

[bpdmepd-blog]

• 4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging.

There are a lot of situations that could be considered self-damaging, but for this post I will talk about the most common situations. These situations include: gambling, reckless spending, binge eating, abusing drugs, engaging in unsafe sex, or reckless driving. There isn’t much to explain about these behaviors because it is relatively self-explanatory. This symptom is often talked about as a way people with BPD cope with their feelings of emptiness or feelings of identity disturbance. Because of this, I will be talking about this potential symptom from an even more opinionated point of view than most of the others on my blog. I feel like it makes a lot of sense for people who feel so numb and empty to the world to engage in such impulsive behaviors. If you feel like you don’t know who you are and like everyone will eventually abandon you, why wouldn’t you do whatever you could to make yourself happy? Even though these impulsive behaviors are extremely dangerous and only temporary solutions to a bigger problem it makes sense to me why people with BPD may engage in them. I am completely biased though because I do have BPD and so obviously this mindset is more likely to make sense to me.

Personally, I have engaged in many of these behaviors when the stress of my life just became too much for me. The biggest issue I have ever had with one of these behaviors has to do with binge eating. When I was 15 years old my family moved away from our small farm town to a much bigger town full of people who I felt were very different from me and unwelcoming. I was in my sophomore year of high school and didn’t even make it through one semester at that school before I ended up having to switch schools. I was being bullied pretty heavily and that is when my binge eating began. I would wait until everyone was asleep or nobody was home and then eat as much food as I could until I felt so sick I couldn’t eat another bite. It made me feel better for the short amount of time that I was binging. That happy feeling doesn’t last long though and I would always feel worse and completely out of control after a binge. I hit my breaking point when one day at school a bunch of kids were throwing pieces of paper into my hair. I have curly, frizzy hair and they thought it was so funny that they could get so many pieces of paper to stick in it. I ended up crying and being sent to the counselor’s office where my parents came to pick me up. I left that school that day and never went back.

I went on independent study and found myself home alone all day, every day, five days a week. That is when the binge eating really took over. I couldn’t stop myself. I gained around 100 pounds in a little more than a year. I have never felt as out of control as I did during that year. I spent almost all the money I had on food and rarely left the house. I did anything that gave me a little rush of happiness no matter what it cost me. It ended up costing me a lot. 100 pounds is a lot of weight to gain so rapidly and it destroyed my confidence making it completely nonexistent. That’s an extreme example, but I feel like it is important to get out there. Since then, I have lost about 30 pounds but I have never been able to lose all the weight completely because I haven’t been able to get my binge eating under control. I know it would be amazing to have a happy ending to this story, but I would rather be real with people because it is still a struggle for me and many others. This disorder is no joke and good mental health is extremely important for your well-being. If you are feeling this way, you are not alone. There is always hope and there are people out there who are able to help you. You just have to find it in yourself to ask for help.

Need Help? You’re not alone. There is nothing to be ashamed of. If you feel you need help, please call one of these numbers or seek a medical professional. People want to help you, you just have to ask.

Suicide: 1-800-273-8255

Self-Harm: 1-800-366-8288

Addiction: 1-800-662-4357

Video Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74YfhLiKJtw 

[drycerealthief]

Less Hype, More Rest.

AO3 All My Fics - Turns out Phil needn't have worried about Dan not getting any rest on the flight to Perth.

"Dan found his new video so exciting he fell asleep while editing it! Get hyped guys" (https://twitter.com/AmazingPhil/status/764474322438197248)

Phil sighed and stretched out his arms as the credits of the movie he’d spent the past two hours pretending to be entertained by flashed up on the screen. A quick check of the time revealed they still had about another three hours before landing, the realisation causing him to grimace as he removed his earphones and placed them on the table in front of him. The combination of cups of coffee consumed in the airport lounge, and the snacks he’d managed to eat almost without realising (maybe the film had been more of a distraction than he’d previously thought) put paid to any chance of taking a nap during the flight, (not that he’d ever had much success at that in the past) leaving him with nothing to do to while away the hours before landing.

Suddenly the satisfaction of having finished editing the Pokémon Go video during the first leg of their journey to Perth didn’t seem like such an achievement. He resisted the temptation to give the finished video another look-over. It was done. Finished. Dan-approved, and ready to upload as soon as they got to the hotel. The last thing he needed or wanted to do was to over-edit, or cut something out that… Well. He’d quite happily cut his numerous pokéball-throwing fails and pretend they never happened, but that seemed a bit dishonest somehow. Besides, it was all pointless anyway, as Dan was currently editing his video on Phil’s MacBook, having elected to travel with his smaller laptop that wasn’t really suitable for editing.

Despite sitting next to him, all Phil could see of Dan, illuminated solely by the screen in front of him (even on a plane, he still found it easier to edit in the dark) was his hands resting on the keyboard, and his legs tucked under the table. The privacy granted by flying business class was a double-edged sword. They couldn’t be seen easily, but it did seriously limit Phil’s ability to while away the time by looking around the cabin and observe other passengers. It wasn’t even possible to make eye contact with Dan without leaning around the partition between their seats.

Just after take-off, he’d tried (unsuccessfully) to convince Dan to try and get some sleep during the flight. Despite the fact they’d tried to make the most of their brief stop-off in Hong Kong, seeing as much of the city as possible, instead of holing up in the hotel room, and the fact Dan was obviously still feeling run down from being ill, he’d refused point blank to sleep the flight away, saying he “needed” to edit his video so he could upload it at some point during the next few days. Although they’d had a good time exploring, there was a part of Phil that wished they had made the most of the enforced stop in their journey, saved their energy for the upcoming shows. They’d both thought that six weeks was plenty of time in between legs of the tour when they’d been planning it. They’d been realistic – they’d known they’d have been tired, worn out and desperately needing a break after the non-stop madness that had been the North American portion of TATINOF, but whilst they’d done everything they realistically could to make sure they stayed fit and well, they hadn’t envisioned one of them coming down with something that lingered. As it turned out, pneumonia was a stubborn illness not easily cured, and whilst Dan got irritated with himself, the doctors, the medications that weren’t working fast enough, whilst worrying about the tour, and putting in a less than stellar performance when they were on stage, or doing a meet and greet, Phil was just worried about Dan. Worried about the travelling, the jetlag, performing the show and doing the meetups would affect his health, when he already looked worn out and… well, just sick, before they’d even left home. Although he’d made a joke about the humidity affecting his hair and how he wasn’t even going to attempt to straighten it during their layover, it had really seemed to make him worse. So much so, Dan had freely admitted to feeling relieved to be leaving and heading to Perth.

Phil had hoped he’d have been able to convince Dan to get some much needed rest during the flight, but had quickly realised his best bet was to give up for now, and hope either that Dan finished the video quickly, or that he’d be able to talk him into resting once they arrived at their hotel. However much Dan played up his ability to procrastinate and put off projects until the last possible minute, Phil knew all too well he was in actual fact more likely to be incredibly determined to finish a project once he’d started. So after the briefest attempt to try and get him to relax, Phil had surrendered his laptop, and had settled both for spending at least the first part of the flight keeping his own company, and scouring the in-flight entertainment system for something, anything to entertain him, rather than watching something he’d “totally legally acquired” (he thought, with a wry smile) on his laptop.

Although there was definite advantages to flying business class these days, comfort and legroom easily being the top two on a long-haul flight when you were over 6’ tall, Phil did sort of miss the days when they’d been forced to fly scrunched up together in economy, trying to get comfortable without disturbing the other, or anyone around them, sharing a set of earphones whilst binge-watching a series of whatever TV programme they’d been obsessed with during flights to Playlist or Vidcon. It’d seemed more like an adventure back then, instead of something to be endured.

That was the last straw. He’d done his best to keep his mind occupied, but he needed some company instead of allowing himself to wallow in nostalgia.

Phil leaned forward in his seat, and peered around the partition, and… oh. That was unexpected. Clearly his worrying had been for nothing, as Dan was fast asleep, his head slumped forward, chin resting on his chest, his hands splayed across the keyboard, Final Cut still open on the screen.

Phil shook his head, smiling fondly at the sight, as he reached across and quickly saved Dan’s progress, an idea forming unbidden in his mind. He quickly reached towards the controls next to Dan’s seat, and switched on the overhead spotlight, hoping not to disturb him. Then he quickly took a picture of Dan asleep using his phone before switching the light back off. He figured he’d just add it to the collection of candid snaps they each regularly took of the other, although if he was being fully honest, he’d been trying to come up with a suitable revenge for what had become known as the “Cereal Pics” a week or two previously, even if they’d both laughed over their fans’ reactions to the tweets. He did feel slightly guilty about thinking of posting the picture. Sort of. He thought back to his own reaction when he realised he’d been caught on camera scoffing the cereal straight from the box and… well, that helped. Still though. Dan wasn’t in the most comfortable of positions for sleeping, and would be sure to wake up stiff, sore and unhappy when they landed if he didn’t do something.

Pushing aside any wistful thoughts about how much easier and nicer it would be to be able to just pull Dan against him and lean his head on Phil’s shoulder for the rest of the flight like he would have done if they had adjacent seats, Phil stood and leaned over Dan in his seat. Slowly and gently, he lifted his hands off the laptop, and placed them carefully in Dan’s lap, before closing the lid of the MacBook. He then glanced at the seat controls, before pressing the button he hoped would move the seat into a more comfortable reclined position. (“Score three for business class” he thought – more space around seats means no guilt over encroaching on someone else’s space.) He held his breath as he pushed the button.

CLUNK.

Turned out the seat moved quicker than he had anticipated, and before he could do anything, Dan’s head smacked against the headrest. Immediately, Dan jerked back upright, grabbing at anything in front of him, catching hold of Phil’s arm, whilst his eyes stared wildly around him in fright. “Wha- where- …Phil? What happened?” he finally managed, as his eyes focused on the face in front of his own. “Sshhh, it’s OK” he whispered, inwardly cursing. “You fell asleep sat up, I was just trying to lie you back a bit so you’d be comfortable. Go back to sleep.” “I was editing. I need to finish the vid-“ The end of Dan’s sentence was lost in a huge yawn. “I think you just proved my point for me” Phil replied smiling. “I’ll wake you before we land, we’re still hours away. And you need your sleep more than you need to edit. Now lie back down. I flattened your seat out, look.” Dan smiled sleepily and lay down on the seat, which was indeed completely flat. Eyes closed, he curled up on his side facing towards Phil, who watched him until his breathing evened out again then picked up the laptop and laid it in front of his own seat, settling down for the rest of the flight, half hoping if he put on something familiar, he might well actually manage some sleep himself.

[lunajane]

Thoughts.

I think because we live in a capitalist society constantly under pressure by the mainstream media and it pushing its agenda on people about what a man/woman/whatever should look like for rather narcissistic gains it’s more accepted nowadays to have an eating disorder, like people don’t really CARE about it when you say you have an eating disorder unless you explain the details like you used to be full on anorexic in a mental people ward getting tubed about a decade ago. Even then when you do explain they’re like “but you’re ok now aren’t you?” insensitively as if it didn’t happen. People really lack a lot of empathy these days and it’s quite a scary thing.

Sure when you’re younger people give more of a shit about you having an eating disorder, but that’s because you’re young and you have more to lose because you don’t have the necessary life experience so parents/older people think you’re a complete idiot for wasting your life so young and try to help more because you don’t understand what being a proper adult is like yet and the stuff you would miss out on if you harmed yourself before you got chance to see what pure freedom is like. At least that’s how it seems from experience. Obviously mental health in general doesn’t work like that but I see a lot of older peoples perspectives are like that.

When you get much older you find ordinary every day people tend to care way less about you and just get rid of contact with you because you’re fucked up to them and they have no need for you in their life they built because you’re bringing them down and they can’t get anything out of you. They tend to get rid of people who are downers because they’ve already seen enough of it or are told it’s bad/unhealthy to be around people who have mental health problems in my experience. 

However, different cultures are way more accepting because a lot of the people there go through it as well in many different ways. 

I found my best friend at the age of 25 who also has an eating disorder through metalhead communities in my town and we’ve had some interesting conversations about it, we simply put it down to past traumas is why.

For me I think I am conditioned to feel bad about weight/myself through domestic abuse, people who abuse others enjoy it and get a thrill from it and keep you mentally locked away so only they can abuse you when no one is around. They make it so you don’t really understand you’re being abused because it starts subtle and gets worse over years. 

I feel like I have a lot of bad conditioning in me because of this that I’m slowly learning how to break free from. I want to lose weight because it feels like every pound of fat is more pounds of my exes torment falling off me. Every bad word said against me for no reason at all other than his sadistic entertainment will come off in the form of this weight and that is what is motivating me like crazy.

I mean I did only put this weight on because of him in the first place. That’s what narcissistic pricks do, they make you want to either binge constantly or not eat at all. I would advise anyone else who suspects they are around narcissists to get the hell away as soon as because they will fuck you up mentally in ways you can’t come back from easily at all. They try their hardest to INFLICT any kind of mental health disorders ON you. Mine tried to get me to commit suicide a lot but I realised what he was doing thankfully.

Now I’m here on my own trying to contend with this weight and my sanity, or whats left of it. Hopefully I’ll get there within the year.