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#cw chronic illness
akindplace · 2 years
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Sometimes when you are disabled, getting out of bed is productivity, rest is productivity, using your spoons with care is productivity, it can feel like a full time job to care for our bodies and we are as worthy as people who are abled and have a 9 to 5 regular job.
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not-poignant · 1 year
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Health update!
So for those following health stuff, I got some great news today. I don't have COPD or Pulmonary Hypertension.
I did find out that my lungs are smaller than the average population (maybe about 90% the size) so they're working a bit harder than everyone else's and that's part of why I've been prone to pneumonia (which I started getting as a teen) and chronic bronchitis.
I also have a new trial medication to start, and some bloodtests to get. But my lungs overall are doing really well and I don't have to see the lung specialist again unless things get suddenly worse.
We've been staring down a possible diagnosis that would give me 2-5 years left to live for 6 months now, and getting a reprieve has been a huge relief and in its own way kind of exhausting.
But good good good news, and that makes me super happy <333
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It was an average day in the Devildom. (at least this version of it)
MC had shown up to the HOL and did whatever the 7 brothers needed them to, with the compulsory antics ensuing, as was customary. They were having fun, and it was all going well.
Until it wasn't.
The signs that they should rest their eyes started at around 14:16, and, like a stubborn idiot, they ignored them. The brothers would be here to take care of them, after all.
They didn't realise that they weren't in their timeline until their eyes were burning and they were rushing to their room, looking for eye drops, only to realise that it wasn't their room yet and their eyedrops were in Cocytus Hall, with Solomon.
As much as they loved the dumbass, they wouldn't trust him with this. And, while he could deal with joint pains and fatigue episodes, he couldn't deal with them constantly rubbing their eyes to try and alleviate the searing pain. He was an extremely powerful sorcerer who had even the strongest demons in his league, but he couldn't deal with people massaging their eyes. Or putting in eye drops.
Another thing about this timeline: none of the brothers trusted them yet. They're a weird demon to them, newly fallen angels, and asking them to look after them while their head hurt too much to think was downright stupid at this point in time.
As they were lamenting about their unfortunate circumstances, the door to the room opened behind them, and as soon as they heard who it was, MC knew they were fucked.
Their back still to the door, MC took a deep breath in and closed their eyes.
"What are you doing in here?" Lucifer asked, his voice threatening. One wrong move, and they'd have to deal with his anger, which, even on a good day, was unpleasant.
Heaven's sake, how do they even reply to that question without getting into trouble? They didn't think they could.
They willed themself to turn around, towards the light that was making them want to claw their eyeballs out, and open their eyes. Might as well be facing him when he kills them.
He was far away and blurry. Fuck, they weren't wearing their glasses. That's probably why the world itself seemed to hate them.
"... Well?" Dangerous. That was how they would explain this situation before them, were they asked. Even though they struggled to make out his face, it didn't take a genius to figure out he was challenging them.
He flips the light switch on, and all they can do to defend the attack against their corneas is to fall to their knees and cover their eyes, crying out. They suddenly felt very nauseous. Why does their eyes hurting always cause them to feel nauseous?
Nausea was one of the things they hated most. Naturally, behind burning pain and feeling useless. They were experiencing all three of those, but who truly cared? They'd dealt with this bullshit before and they'll probably survive, so they just have to wait it out and hope it feels better.
.....
Are their eyes getting worse, or are they just overexaggerating the problem? Either way, the backs of their eyes were feeling as if they had been dipped into molten lava and they had to keep an arm over their mouth to feel like they wouldn't puke. When was the last time they ate? Most of the food they had been able to eat didn't exist yet or weren't available in the Devildom yet, so they'd just been ignoring the growing pain in their stomach.
Oh shit. What if they starve to death?
That was unlikely, they knew, but it was still horrifying. Starving was one of the worst ways to die, other than dehydration, drowning, suffocation, and being burned alive. The thought of their stomach acid slowly eating through it's container, days worth of lacking nutrition and sustenance making their body turn against them, was causing them to hold their arm closer to their mouth, mostly in raw fear.
They was so caught up in their thoughts that they didn't notice Lucifer crouching down next to them until the feeling of a gloved hand on their head brought them out of their spiral.
They startled, opening their eyes despite the pain. He was close enough that they didn't need to be wearing their glasses to see him properly, and had concern etched onto his face, the earlier danger nowhere to be seen.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his hand returning to his side now that he'd caught their attention.
"Honestly? Not at all." They gave a humorless laugh.
"May I inquire about what's wrong?"
"Oh, just being plagued by visions. Y'know, the usual." They spoke the term they were used to. Back in their time, they had started referring to their eye problems like this to lighten their mood, and it just stuck.
Lucifer raised his eyebrow. It took them a second to realise that he hadn't encountered this yet.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. You probably don't know what I'm talking about. My eyes sometimes start burning, and I started calling it being 'plagued by visions' a few years ago."
"Ah. Burning, you say?"
"Yeah, it's usually, like, this searing pain at the backs of my eyes. Light usually makes it worse."
"Okay. Why were you in this room, though?"
Shit. They couldn't say this used to be their room. What excuse could they make to explain this? Maybe they could say half-truths?
"I thought my eye drops were in here. They weren't, though."
He eyed them suspiciously.
"Why would they be here? Last I remember, this room was off limits."
Lying to a very powerful demon wasn't that bad, right? Oh well, in for a penny, in for a dime.
"I honestly don't know."
He squinted at them. They squinted back.
After a while of staring at eachother, Lucifer spoke again.
"You said light makes it worse, correct?" A nod of confirmation. "Will you be able to walk home by yourself in this condition?"
They shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but I'll manage."
He scoffed. "If you are so willing to get away from here that you'd put your safety on the line, I don't know what to tell you. I will say that I won't permit our only attendant being run over on their way home, though."
"What do you suggest I do instead, then?"
"I suggest that you let me walk you home."
That caught them off guard. The Lucifer from their timeline never had to walk them home, but he only started walking them to their room after they became close. Maybe this was to do with Lucifer only recently having fallen. Maybe he's still used to his angel ways, as unlikely as that sounds.
Still, a part of their heart fluttered. Him showing signs of caring about what happens to them is currently akin to finding an oasis in a desert. They missed him being affectionate.
"All right. Thank you."
The walk home was nice, even if the street lights made them want to cry and it was quite silent. Lucifer was surprisingly helpful on the way, and now they were both standing at the front door of Cocytus Hall.
Mc turned around, gave a final salute to Lucifer, and then rang the doorbell before screaming. "Solomon, I know you're home already! Get your ass out of here and help your poor apprentice get into their home!"
After what seemed like a second of thought, they added; "And I swear to Diavolo that if you're anywhere near my stove, I will kick your ass."
After a minute, the door opened to reveal Solomon wearing a stain-covered apron. It was, indeed, the case that he had been cooking. "Oh, hello, dear! I thought I'd make you some dinner after your long day of work." At a murmer of "You little- I thought we agreed on you not using the kitchen?", he laughed. Then, he noticed Lucifer and raised an eyebrow.
Before he could question, Lucifer spoke up. "I was walking your, ahem, apprentice, home. I'll take my leave now."
Although the walk home for MC was pleasant, Lucifer's was full of doubts. Why had he offered to take them home? They probably could have made it themself. Also, why did he feeling so.. negative when Solomon called them 'dear'? He knew the two of them were in a relationship, it had been made apparent to him as soon as they could, but why did it irk him so?
He had paperwork to worry about, this was moronic to focus on.
________
Likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated.
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metatomatoes · 6 months
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One of the things I like about embroidery is that I can usually still work on stuff during an IBS flare-up! So I can still make something pretty when I'm feeling pretty gross.
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This is my first Cozyblue Stitch Club project and I actually finished it before the end of the month! This pattern is called Morning Glow.
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Y’all I don’t know how much longer I can do this
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I have had MANY people tell me that I’m in excruciating pain because it’s ‘winter.’ While cold weather may flare up symptoms for some people, my family knows that I see very little correlation between cold weather and my pain.
In fact, hot weather tends to be worse for me. My pain doesn’t ‘ease up’ in the warmer months, my muscles ache and I feel drained. On top of that there’s the emotional aspect of feeling isolated because I’m in too much pain to enjoy the BBQs or large family gatherings that others participate in.
I know some people won’t see this text as that big of a deal, but for some reason I have been dismissed so much this week by different people (including having a professor tell me that I just need to get a different doctor if my current one can’t cure me. I wish it were that simple.)
I’m sure a part of these responses come from how we interact with people with acute illnesses. If someone has a cold you say “I hope you feel better soon.” That doesn’t translate well for people with chronic illnesses though. Maybe my flare up will end soon, but another one is right around the corner. It honestly feels so dismissive, even if it’s well intended.
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valoale · 2 months
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I’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and it stresses me out
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academicdisasterfic · 2 years
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Threshing
drarry | 1.5k | e
A slightly late gift for the lovely @anaxandria-writes for @drarrymicrofic Wheel of Drarry mini-exchange. Thank you to my love @wolfpants for the fantastic beta.
CW for chronic/terminal illness (but with a happy ending).
Years later, Draco would think it all began when the bartender asked him, ‘Would you like the shiraz, sir, or the tempranillo?’
‘Tempranillo,’ Draco said, but as it transpired, they had run out of the tempranillo, and the bartender had to dash out to the back for more, despite Draco’s protests that the shiraz would be fine.
Draco was left to tap his fingers on the wooden counter, and as he gazed aimlessly around the crowded room, he wondered  whether thirty was going to feel any different to twenty-nine.
And that’s when he saw him; lingering by the door, flannel rolled up to his elbows, dark stubble covering his jaw. He looked tired, and Draco knew, knew before he even saw the string appear between them. He didn’t hesitate; it was like drawing breath, walking over to him, and Harry looked so relieved, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, even though neither of them could have known, as these things were never able to be predicted, not even by the most gifted Seers or centaurs.
The string shortened and drew them together, and Draco reached out his hand to cup Harry’s face.
‘You look tired,’ Draco said, and Harry leant into his neck, inhaling, grabbing Draco’s waist, drawing their bodies together, fitting Draco’s hip bones against his. Draco gasped.
‘Of course it’d be you,’ Harry muttered, and then, ‘we’re going back to mine.’
They fucked in the kitchen, over dirty dishes and piles of unread mail on the sticky counter, Harry eating Draco from behind until Draco couldn’t take it and wrestled them to the ground, sinking down on Harry’s cock and riding him against the hard wooden floor.
They fucked on the sofa, Draco opening Harry quickly and efficiently so he could take him from behind, Harry whimpering harder, harder into the cushions.
They fucked in Harry’s bed, this time slow and reverent, Harry sucking Draco’s nipples until Draco was thrashing and sobbing, arching up and begging to be touched, and then Harry pushed into him and held his face between his huge, calloused hands. That's when Draco fell in love with him; fell in love as Harry covered him and held him like a precious, beloved thing, like he couldn't believe he was allowed to love, and be loved, by him.
After, spent and exhausted, Draco looked at where the string joined them, and asked, ‘Why now?’
Harry smiled, crooked and sweet, and kissed the back of Draco’s palm.
‘Probably because I’m dying.’
People weren’t supposed to be Horcruxes.
When Voldemort destroyed the part of his soul that lived inside Harry, Harry’s magical core didn’t know what to do. It had spent seventeen years growing and shaping itself around something that was no longer there, and it rebelled.
Harry hadn’t noticed for the first five years or so, too lost in the aftershocks of peace. But then he noticed the exhaustion, then the heart palpitations, the weird visions, the way he couldn’t quite cast like he used to. And by the time the Healers had figured out what had happened, it was far too late.
Back then, he still had good days, and Draco took advantage of them; dragged them out to the mountains, to the seaside, to gay clubs and bars and parades. He moved into Harry’s flat and quit his job so they could spend the bad days in bed together, doing the Prophet crossword and drinking tea and watching daytime soaps. He couldn’t feel Harry’s pain exactly, not like in the soulmate stories he was told as a child, but sometimes he did think he knew Harry better than he knew himself; knew the meaning of an eyebrow twitch, or a downturned lip, or a slight hand tremor. Loving Harry had been easy, effortless; like falling through clouds, and then when Harry was writhing in spasms, or sleeping through whole days, or waking in sweats and shouts, it was more painful than Draco had ever imagined pain could be.
Sometimes, Harry would get distant and withdraw, wracked with guilt that the bond hadn’t given Draco a choice but to care for him. Draco would get angry that Harry could even conceive of such a thing; even contemplate the thought of them not being together. Harry still wanted to put everyone else before himself, and Draco was still the same spoiled boy who wanted more than he should. He never made any apologies for that.
Sex became more gentle, with more laughter. Draco snorted into Harry’s mouth once when Harry tried to wrap his legs around him and his entire back cracked; Draco placed pillows under his head and knees instead, and sank down on him slowly, just like the first time, only now appreciating every detail; the greys in Harry’s hair that Draco actually thought were really fucking sexy, the soft dark hair beneath his navel, the dark circles beneath his eyes that refused to budge. 
Sometimes Harry couldn’t finish, and Draco would try not to be upset about it. If he was, it was never in front of Harry.
The summer they both turned thirty five, Harry stopped being able to cast.
He was still magical; Draco could feel it, even when Harry couldn’t, could feel the golden warmth surrounding him, and could also feel its frustration, the way Harry’s magic so desperately wanted to escape and couldn’t.
Things got worse after that.
Harry’s fits were worse, and he was addled and confused after, taking hours to come back to himself. Draco could only sit by the bed and stroke his hair, read to him, watch as Longbottom and Lovegood came in with increasingly bizarre herbal concoctions which never did anything, but Draco appreciated them both anyway, the way they teased Harry, reminded him who he was.
Granger and Weasley were more distressed and less able to be funny, but they tried as hard as they could. Rose liked to snuggle next to Harry after his fits, tell him about her friends and teachers, knowing he wouldn’t remember the details but was always soothed by her voice.
Teddy didn’t visit very much, which Draco couldn’t blame him for; he’d lost enough parents.
One morning, Draco was woken up by Harry’s lips on his neck, and his hand over his stomach.
‘I want you to give the Invisibility Cloak to Hugo,’ he whispered. Draco’s blood ran cold. ‘James and Sirius’ mirror to Ron. The Potter fortune to Teddy. Everything else is yours.’
Draco wanted to scream at him. To point to the string, still a vibrant red connecting them, and ask him how he could even fathom leaving Draco; why his body didn’t love Draco enough to keep fighting, to stay alive. 
But Harry had already fallen asleep again.
Not even Voldemort had dared approach the fae. They took more than they gave, always, but as long as the thing they gave Draco was Harry, he didn’t care what he’d sacrifice.
The Forbidden Forest was very dark, and very quiet.
‘You called,’ came a voice. The fae never showed themselves. 
‘I require your help,’ Draco said, voice firm. 
‘For your mate?’
‘Yes.’ Draco tried to imagine Harry, seventeen and terrified, walking to his death out here. He just had to be half as brave, and he could do this. And then he thought about Harry in their bed, skin blotchy and grey, his body shaking in pain, and everything else faded into insignificance. ‘He’s dying. And he saved you too, that day.’
‘That’s debatable.’ The voice sounded vaguely affronted, and Draco stared stonily ahead. ‘It would have taken more than a mere human to eradicate us.’
‘I know. But it would have been harder without Harry.’ Draco squeezed his eyes closed. ‘You would have had to leave the Forest.’
Something squawked overhead, startling Draco's eyes open. The stars were very bright.
‘You do have the power to save your mate,’ the voice echoed, seeming closer, and Draco’s heart soared. ‘But something must be given; energy cannot be destroyed or created. A life cannot be created from anything other than a life. Do you understand?’
Harry was never going to forgive him. Draco was okay with that.
Years later, Draco would think it all actually began when the bartender asked him, ‘What do you want tonight, sir?’
Draco flicked his gaze over him, and the bartender flushed. ‘Usual spot, Sebastian. Five minutes.’
Pulses thrummed in the dark, smoky room. The night smelled like sex; arousal and sweat and blood.
Harry had started by the time he got out there. Sebastian was always too keen. It was one of the things they liked about him.
‘Hello,’ Draco said, amused, and Harry unlatched himself from the young man’s neck. He was so beautiful like this; selfish and greedy and so very alive.
Or a version of it.
‘Does he taste good, Harry?’ Draco asked. Harry and Sebastian groaned at the same time. ‘My turn.’
He did taste good, Draco thought with satisfaction. Sebastian moaned as Draco pressed his hardness against him, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Behind them, Harry was panting, and when Draco finally sent Sebastian back inside with a Blood-Replenishment Potion and a quick cleaning charm, Harry was on him in seconds.
‘Here?’ Draco asked, amused, and Harry growled softly.
‘I can’t wait.’ His voice was gruff and low and his eyes were trained on Draco’s lips. Draco smiled and lifted his hand to cup Harry’s face, string dangling between them, blood-red and taut.
‘Sweetheart. We have time.’
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peachesnabsinthe · 10 months
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I couldn't decide between purple and green today, so why not both?
😈✳️🔮🐉(also check out the new ring splints 😎)
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fibrefox · 2 years
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waking up every morning just to roll a nat 1 on initiative
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pokemonlolitaproject · 7 months
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Woah
how do you finish these coords so quickly?? I'd assume you'd be tired due to the amounts of requests you have but they still come out everyday
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So to be completely honest/get a little serious at the moment I have chronic illnesses that prevent me from working so I have a lot of time where I can't do anything too physical; and unlike my other online hobbies: role playing (which is other people dependent) and writing (that requires more brain power) this is a wonderful visual way to express creativity that I don't find super taxing most of the time.
That isn't to say I am well enough to even focus on this every day; but on days that I have more energy I try to make a bunch for my backlog while taking breaks from general house keeping that way I can try to post something almost every day!
It can genuinely makes me feel emotionally better that I am making people happy so I like to take lots of requests and not make people wait too long to the best of my ability (while still trying to make a quality collage) ^_^
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cartoonscientist · 24 days
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I'm highly physically active and have a fucked up digestive tract, so over the years I've fallen into the pattern of going for a while eating very small meals and getting a lot of my calories from liquid, then I'll start to feel sort of tired and feel up to eating a larger meal that's heavier in fat and protein and spend the rest of the day recovering from that, and now I'm like shit, did I accidentally revert to hunter/gatherer eating habits
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akindplace · 2 years
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You are not a quitter when you have a disability and admit to yourself and to others that you can't do something. It doesn't mean you are limiting who you are or hindering your growth or success capacity. It just means you accept how your illness impacts your life and you are setting boundaries, so you don't end up completely exhausted and even more sick. You are looking out for your own health when you stick up by not pushing yourself to a point of burn-out. It doesn't mean you are a failure. It means you know some things are impossible to be done, it means you won't take unnecessary high risks with your health.
Look out for yourself. It is okay to admit how disability affects your life, to say "no" to pushing yourself too hard, to ignore people who accuse of "not trying hard enough" because they can't possibly understand how much you have to try to just exist when you are sick.
It is okay to ask for breaks, to have accommodations, to ask for benefits and accessible healthcare. You are not being too demanding by wanting your most basic needs met and your boundaries respected.
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not-poignant · 1 year
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would you be comfortable keeping us updated about your health results in the following months ?
Hi anon,
I don't generally update re: my health stuff in any consistent way here. I often have between 80-100+ medical appointments of some kind or other per year and I have too many actively treated/supported health conditions (over 15 -> I have more than this, these are just the ones being actively treated), that like... I'm not making this a health blog. It's a writing blog! Most of the health updates I make are over at the Fae Tales / writing Discord. But even there, I don't update about everything. (Some health stuff is just boring too, like, I'm anemic again? Must be a day ending in Y. Iron infusions are very repetitive, lol).
That being said, I do tend to update with health stuff when it impacts my writing, which is why I've been talking about it more lately, because my writing has absolutely been impacted from some new diagnoses from last November to now, which is really frustrating on a writing level, and also because it can impact my mood and output and readers can notice something's off. December was my lowest wordcount in over two years. And I've only written one chapter this month.
Right now I'm kind of having to force myself to work, because I need the money, so I can't afford to shut down the Patreon for a month or two (which is what I'd normally do in order to give myself a lengthy break), so I'm in the catch 22 of 'too sick to work to my normal levels, too poor to take a break from work to see if that helps because I need a lot of specialist medical stuff and some of it's expensive.' I do still like writing, but given more choice/freedom, I'd be taking time off to process some difficult diagnoses and some abrupt medication changes (I had to stop taking two meds that helped my quality of life and mental health immensely, and immediately onboard to two others that have notorious side effects, and that alone has been a struggle).
Though as a small update - I have 8 medical appointments in the next 10 days (one of those will result in 3 more referrals), and I'm 29 minutes away from leaving to go get my 45 minute head/neck MRI (complete with face cage and gadolinium) to see if my tumours have grown and to see if I've grown any more or if they've since metastasized. I have another MRI next week. The MRIs are thankfully due to Australia's healthcare free at least. But almost none of my other appointments are. I will probably end up having around 15+ medical appointments this month, so we're definitely starting the 80-100+ medical appointments per year off strong this year. x.x
For folks reading this, broadly, this is why there's been delays in responding overall to comments on AO3, why I'm not always getting to asks as soon as I normally do, and why I haven't been as 'chatty' as usual. I still love receiving asks/comments etc. please just be patient with me while I deal with everything. <3333
Er but yeah, tbh a lot of it is quite overwhelming for others. Like, if I actually kept people properly updated, I think some would feel not very happy, especially if they're just here for writing updates! So I try not to make too many 'health posts' unless I'm asked specifically? Anon, you are always welcome to ask for a health update <3 People can always scroll past it.
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may I have. jun comforting his s/o after a bad day. thanks!^^
Of course! I hope he's accurate, sorry if he isn't. Cw: chronic illness-related
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The spirits must have had it out for you today because you woke up feeling like shit. Not just the general fatigue or sadness(which were still bad), your joints were acting up, your muscles sore for no reason, you were genuinely too tired to get up, and you were feeling depressed and full of self-loathing.
You've been in your body long enough to know that today would have to be a stay-in-bed day, but you hated those. You hated not being able to do anything and having to stare into space. Nevertheless, you knew there wasn't another choice.
The day had passed in excruciating silence, leaving you with your thoughts until the sky filled with dusky purple and pink hues. You were considering sleeping early when someone knocked on the door.
"Love?" Called a voice that you immediately recognized as your boyfriend, Jun. Shit. You forgot that you had planned to have dinner at your place tonight.
You spent too long panicking. The door slowly opened, revealing a concerned-looking Jun. He immediately noticed you laying in bed. "Oh thank goodness. I saw the field wasn't watered and you weren't answering the door, so I got worried." He stared for a moment, seeing you tearing up. You hated him seeing you like this, you always felt so vulnerable and useless. "It's one of those days, isn't it?" He spoke softly. You nodded, not trusting your voice.
His face softened as he walked over. "Oh, honey. Is it okay if I lay with you?" You nodded again.
He quietly got in the cramped bed with you, extending an arm around your torso and running his fingers through your hair in a soothing fashion. He muttered soft words to you, reassuring you in as many ways as he could think of. It might not have helped with the physical pain, but it did help comfort you.
After a while of comforting you, he started speaking. "I know you know all of this, but sometimes it helps to hear it from someone that isn't yourself." He was rubbing circles on your arms. "I'll always be here for you. You're not weak for having days like this. Even if this was what your days were like all the time, you still wouldn't be weak. You're not useless if you can't be productive all the time or can't always get out of bed. This is a part of who you are, and that's okay. Bad days will pass. Life is a constant up and down, and if today is a down day, you'll have up days soon. I'll be with you through it all. I love you for who you are, and these days don't make me love you less."
A while passed after that, and you fell asleep at some point.
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Thanks for reading! I hope this was up to your expectations, sorry if it wasn't. Likes, comments and reblogs appreciated.
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a-really-good-lawyer · 3 months
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My brain feels hot and all the lights feel too loud and my muscles feel like the sad crumbly bits of a crunchy granola bar that always go falling to pieces and making a mess, not so different from my emotional state when overstimulated. So yeah PEM fucking sucks. Why do the bones in my neck Sound Like That
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chronic--experiences · 6 months
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I was just hit with a memory from high school from when I asked if I could zoom into class on days that my chronic illness/pain was so bad that I couldn’t attend school, and they said no because it was only for people who had Covid :)
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