#depression is not going to stop me and neither is burnout

[strohller27]

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[moonlingering]

light yagami hcs but theres actually a psychoanalysis for some of them

— light has social anxiety. HEAR ME OUT!!!! he wouldnt admit it to anyone (himself included). for him it doesn’t manifest in the way where he apologizes for everything, stutters over his words, etc. instead; he grew up not able to make friends easily because it was always hard to relate when he was already so much more mentally developed than everyone else, and his mom caught on to this, so being the kind mother she is, sachiko tries to make him feel better about it because she thought that it upset him. same w his father. so growing up he was constantly told that he was just more mature than his peers and ir wasnt his fault, which caused him to develop a superiority complex, “i don’t have friends because im better than everyone else, and they bore me.” was probably his thought process, similar to how tomoko (watamote) is w her social anxiety, he blames everyone else for his loneliness rather than thinking there’s something wrong with him. again, similarly to tomoko, he changes the way he is to seem more normal even if he doesnt care to surround himself w people. he overthinks every conversation he has even before he becomes kira and is constantly questioning if he seemed normal enough 😧

— light likes carrot cake. no reason for this one except i rly like carrot cake so he obviously has to be the biggest fan of carrot cake ever

— if the death note didnt exist, and light didnt become kira and neither did anyone else, he would’ve experienced gifted kid burnout for the first time in his life being absolutely bored out of his mind, and he would’ve become severely depressed, borderline suicidal because it seemed like nothing mattered anymore and slowly but surely, he wouldve stopped having the motivation to participate in school, stopped trying to seem normal for the ppl around him, stopped talking to anyone in general, and likely became a recluse or kill himself. i say this bc i think the only reason he never became like that is bc he became kira, giving him a ‘purpose’ in life (passing judgement)

— light has a short temper, due to constantly having to mask around people. he tried to take his moms advice on making a friend in like 4th grade and when he came home, he went straight to his room, locked the door, and screamed into his pillow for a good 30 minutes from pure exhaustion and exasperation. safe to say he stayed polite after that, but never tried to have a genuine conversation with anyone ever again. this fueled his superiority complex probably, enforcing the belief that he was smarter and just generally better than everyone else around him.

— if he ever met beyond, b would absolutely test his patience. im under the belief that if they were acquaintances for a while, light would’ve tried to strangle b at least once. it would not work, and b would find that hilarious, because light doesnt like getting his hands dirty, and the first and only time he tries, he fails miserably. bloodmoon truthers i love you

— he has 97 mental illnesses and is banned from most public spaces /ref (personally i hc him w npd, aspd, avpd, & ocd)

— he got a cat when he moved out of his parents house and would absolutely go batshit (even more so) if anything ever happened to it. like a john wick situation. also the cats name is ai (愛), meaning love in japanese :3

— bloodmoon hc #2 , in the situation where instead of dying, b finds light on the staircase and saves him, fixing him up himself instead of going to a hospital for obvious reasons. also light would give up ownership of the book to b, but would have the book with him at all times to keep his memories. light hates him at first both because b is a murderer and bc he reminds light too much of L. over time they become sort of replacements for each other. light sees L in b, and b sees A in light (physical similarities for both)

— light despises apples. hes always pictured w them bc of ryuk, but thats exactly why he hates them. ryuk would have him buy every apple he sees, or just apple themed things and light would be sooo pissed and yell at ryuk for draining his wallet

— light has a phobia of needles. whenever he has to get a shot or something he’ll keep a tight-lipped smile but would be freaking the fuck out in his mind

ummm thats all for now methinks. yea ^_^ light is literally me so this is all very real trust

[ringstarrr]

Hi. If you don't mind, would you mind doing a song fic for Taylor Swift's coney island with either John or George? I just feel like it would work really well, especially these lines: "And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

I Want to Tell You

pairing: john lennon x gender neutral!reader

warnings: angst, depression, self image

author's note: first of all, sorry for going missing for a few months. kinda had a burnout with college and work, but things are getting better - i think, at least.

and i kind of changed this a little lol i know it's a sad song and i made it accordingly, but the end is sweet. i might not be a swiftie but i'm a softie

1966.

It was like living through hell. Why did he have to say that? you’d think every once in a while since the whole bigger than Jesus broke out. John has always been one to make interesting comments - not to say controversial. You knowing him since you met at art school, it didn’t faze you a bit, yet, it was a different thing in America.

“They’re so fucking upright. It’s so phony.” You sought John during one of the tours you went by his side, still his girlfriend, flesh and nail. Now, long married, it’s been a few good months since you last followed beside him. John was getting more distant everyday and you didn’t know what to do.

He emitted his loud and heartwarming laugh. “I know, right?” John escorted you close to his chest, his nose in your hair. “Americans act like we are a bunch of weirdos. We are… different,” John chuckled, free hand hovering his face. “They’re nice. I’m the freak.”

This happened only a year prior to this fiasco. On that occasion, you made it your job to assure John he was an important person to the band and no matter what happened, you’d still be by his side. So far, you had maintained your words and stuck with John - even though he wouldn’t even look at you.

It made you insecure and going back in your head, trying to piece together why he had become such a loner those last months. Without preparation, you began to revisit your time at college, when you two first started dating. You were younger by a few years, and John was living the high of his teddy boy lifestyle. 

He was a heartthrob. There was no other way to describe it.

Every single time you glanced in his direction, John’s eyes were already staring you down. Smiling smugly, he’d shake his head and wiggle his eyebrows. You were left blushing. It was heaven, knowing you caught the attention of someone like him. Your heart could melt just by the sight of him.

At the time, you weren’t looking for a relationship. But John had other plans. He flirted with you every chance he got, always putting some innuendo into everything. Even though you rolled your eyes every single time, you couldn’t deny to yourself how your hands would shake whenever John stormed in your direction. Neither could you say he didn’t make winter feel like a sunny afternoon in spring, considering the speeding beat of your heart and the way he caught your breath.

The memories left you wondering if you had closed your fists around something delicate for this to be happening. The silent tears fell down and you didn’t try to avoid the unstoppable. It was getting overbearing just to breath. When you first met, you thought that maybe 一 you were certain, to be completely honest 一 he’d be the death of you. At the time, the idea brought colour to your cheeks, thinking it’d be because of his antics and how flustered he made you feel. Now, you had the sour taste of knowing why.

Marrying one of the most desired man on the earth, show stopping sensation and global phenomenon was incredibly hard. And the business changed John’s usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. Theses things were still there but he wouldn’t show them as much. It turned him into a depressed and lonely wolf. John was starting to head straight to bed whenever he came home, telling you less and less about his life and what he was going through in his head. 

Yet, you had an idea of why that was.

The press were writing a bunch of articles about all the things he and the boys did and, unfortunately, that included his health. Suddenly every news reporter was a nutritionist and they decided John was getting fat, which was far from the truth. You noticed how John was starving himself for awhile because of it, his self image completely deteriorated and his depression coming to a new highlight low-end. But John wouldn't say a word. You’d ask him, almost plead for him to open up you, but John wouldn't say a word.

In front of the television, you watched him and the band make yet another appearance for an interview. It was difficult for you to admit, but most of the time you heard his voice these days was on the TV. John was pushing you away. After talking to George, Ringo and Paul about the situation, they assured you this wasn’t happening just to you. John was pushing everyone away, whether he knew it or not.

Seeing that happy grin in his face on the telly, a sight you missed dearly, was enough to make your walls crumble down. You sobbed violently, crying out loud. What happened to my baby? Where did my baby go? Your whole body shook and your voice got hoarse by the second. But the moment you heard a car pull into the driveway, you pushed it all back inside, cleaning the tears’ path and clearing your throat. Uptight and anxious, you waited. 

“You watching that crap?” was the first thing he said. John closed the front door, dropping his keys in the coffee table and sitting beside you on the couch. He slid his arm around you, turning you slightly to kiss you with care. After it ended, you two maintained faces close, noses brushing against one another, eyes closed. It was moments like this that made you feel everything was worth putting through. 

“Just watching this group fine young men. They dress pretty well, especially that one” you said, turning a little to the TV, just enough so he could see your index finger pointing in his direction on the screen. 

John snickered. “Nah, he looks like a twat.”

You snuggled your face against his neck, eyes closed. “And how was today, pretty boy?” as you whispered the question you immediately regretted it. John’s body grew rigid, moving away from you. I can’t do anything right.

“Ah,” he shrugged his shoulders, face showing how John cringed at the question. “It was… normal, I guess.” He bit down his lip, drawing in a deep breath. Silence emerged between youc and you wanted to scream. With a sigh, John got up. “Well, I’m taking a shower.” 

Before you could think the decision over once more, you were speaking already. “John, can I ask you a question?” He was midway walking to your shared bedroom, stopping in his tracks. John turned around, confused.

Eyebrows knitted and hands on his waist, he answered. “Yeah, sure you can.” 

“Did I shatter you?” your voice quivered, just a little above a purr. You felt tears threatening to form but you didn’t care. You needed to get it off of your chest, it was killing you. John was startled by the inquiry, eyes wide.

“What makes you think that, love?” He still was by the bedroom, slowly coming back to you.

“You never talk to me anymore, John.” A sorry laugh left your lips as you said it, feeling like a lunatic. “And you used to come to me anytime if you were struggling, to have a laugh... Now you can barely stand to be next to me.” Your eyes flickered to the roof, holding back the emotions in turmoil. “You never ask about me anymore. It’s like you couldn’t give less of a shit sometimes,” you turned your focus back to him and it crashed your feelings. He was crying with a straight face, biting the inside of his cheek. “If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?” 

You managed to get a laugh from him, smiling a bit. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” John pushed the tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we turned into this… all because of me,” now it was his turn to cackle like a mad man, hands in his hair.

“It’s okay, John.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“No! Of course it’s not, love.” He took a long breath and began tapping his foot against the floor. “You are my wife, for fuck’s sake. I love you and I pushed away? I’m a dick.” John was obviously mad at himself. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much, love. Fuck.”

“Baby…” you cooed, getting up from the couch. You tried to reach for his hands, but he shook them instead.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want your pity.”

“John,” you took hold of his hand, your hold strong and tight. “Shut up. You’ve been through a lot and it’s okay to react like this. But you should be more aware of the fact that there are people that care and worry about you.” You pushed his fringe to the side with your free hand, resting it against his wet cheek. John closed his eyes. “You are not a bad guy, John. Just fucking stupid sometimes,” both of you laughed. 

“What’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” You cringed at that, not agreeing with him.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. I love you too much,” you said, laughing a little. “Just don’t push me away anymore. I’m always here for you.”

“Sorry for being fucking stupid.”

[duckymcdoorknob]

hello! this is an emergency request.

lately i’ve been struggling a lot with my depression and anxiety. it makes it hard to get the motivation to do anything. i feel constantly sick and nauseous and it just sucks.

could you write midoriya and shinsou (separate) comforting the reader who’s struggling? (platonic and gender-neutral please) thank you🙏

Of course of course!

Thank you For this request! I do hope you’re feeling a little better now :)

Depression is a tough one to overcome, so I’m proud of you going along day by day.

If you need anything, please let me know!!

CW UNDER THE CUT: D3pression, Anx1ety.

𝐼𝑧𝑢𝑘𝑢 𝑀𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑦𝑎

You and Izuku were fast friends when you both enrolled in U.A

You helped to save his ass during the entrance exam, so he secretly vouched for you to All-Might to get you in the program.

You both were enrolled without a hitch, and the rest was history.

Overtime, your coursework caught up to you. Among all other things, the weight of being a hero was just far too much for you to bear.

Having anxiety and depression did not help your social stability much either.

You loved your classmates, and they loved you. It was just… hard for you to truly feel the desire to be social most days.

Your best friend Izuku wanted to make sure you felt included, so he always ensured to ask you on outings, invite you to cook with him, or even just to watch a tv show with him at night.

Unfortunately, the boy didn’t know about your pre-existing mental burnout. He never understood why you were quick to decline his offers.

On a day that the whole class was going out for a shopping day, you once again had opted to stay home.

Izuku faked illness so that he could stay back with you and check on you in private. He knocked gently on your dorm door, hoping you would confide in him.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly, a finger rapping on your door.

You opened the door and gave him a small smile. Your hair was disheveled and you looked like you had been crying. Izuku immediately took you gently in his arms. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?”

You couldn’t answer him. You were so upset that your mind had kept you from being with your classmates once again.

Izuku shut the door behind him and wordlessly held you tight. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”

Eventually, your tears stopped. You retreated to your bed and took a seat on it, your best friend mirroring this action and placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just really tired of not ever feeling social.” You confessed, “Everything is happening at once, and I just feel so sick every day. My stupid depression makes me nauseous and never gives me any energy… or any break.”

“I understand.” He replied softly, “I believe you entirely. I know sometimes that it makes us feel like we’re just faking it, but I truly believe you.”

You buried your head in his chest as he held you securely. “I just want to be a normal teenager.”

“But you are a normal teenager. You’re an incredible person. Your personality shines so brightly and you light up a room whenever you walk in it. So maybe you’re not as social as the rest of us, that doesn’t make you weird.”

“Sometimes our body puts us into protection mode, or maybe it a sign from the gods. I dunno, but it’s certainly not because you’re not normal or trying to be rude.”

“I know you want to be out there with us every day, but I’d rather you be honest with us and yourself and not make yourself uncomfortable.”

You looked up to him with teary eyes. Izuku’s thumb immediately came up to wipe the contents that leaked from them.

Maybe you weren’t out with the group, or screaming your head off at a beach. But here was enough. Being here with only him, being held by him, feeling safe and appreciated. That was all you truly needed.

𝐻𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑠ℎ𝑖 𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑢

When he heard you turn down Kendo’s offer to go to the beach for the fifth time this week, Shinsou immediately knew something was wrong.

The entire class had been planning this beach trip for weeks. Neither the purple-haired male, nor the class representative really understood your reasoning.

Before he knew it, he realized that you had also been turning down invites for weeks. We’re you mad at your classmates? Did they do something to make you remove yourself from the friend groups?

That couldn’t be right; you would’ve told him.

When the rest of the class left the dormitory, Hitoshi paced to the study room you had taken refuge in.

With a single finger, he gently tapped at the door. “Hey, (Y/N)? Can I come in?”

After a short moment, you slowly opened the the door. Your eyes sold you out, for the redness and tears that illustrated them showed your distress.

Shinsou shut the door behind you with a worried look on his face. “Hey. What’s going on?” He asked, softly taking your hand in his.

You couldn’t answer in that moment, one more question could‘ve sent you over the edge. You leaned into the touch, resting your head on his shoulder.

Out of instinct, Hitoshi placed a hand on both sides of your face. He asked one question… “are you alright?”

All of your pent up frustrations and emotions came flooding out onto the boy’s uniform. Shinsou held you close and tight as you sobbed loudly. “I’m here, you’re going to be okay.” He repeated sotto voce.

When your tears subsided, you finally found the strength to talk to him. “I’m really tired of never wanting to hang out with anyone.”

“I see. Is there any reason behind this?” He asked, sitting down next to you on a couch.

“I have some… mental stuff. It’s making me super sick and anxious anytime I think about going out. My social abilities have tanked to zero and I just-“

“You don’t have to hang out with us in order for us to like you. Sometimes talking is just enough. I mean, I know that personally I like to just spend time like this and chat away.”

“But I feel like they’re going to be mad at me, especially Kendo.” You said with a subsequent whimper.

“Kendo will understand if you tell her.” He replied softly.

“I just want to be normal…” your voice was a whisper, but loud enough to be heard by Hitoshi.

“Don’t even think that, (Y/N). You are normal. You live a normal-“ he pondered on his sentence, “well as normal of a life as a hero can have. You have a personality that instantly improves our moods, your jokes are funny and land every time. You truly make all of us feel welcome.”

“You don’t need to go out with us to show that you’re our friend and a support system. We understand the stress and anxiety that comes from being a hero, and I can’t imagine how much worse it is for you. I hope you can find the peace you deserve.”

“I know that big groups intimidate me, and most times I’m done being social by the tenth minute I’m out of the dorms. But… Neito always knows when I’m feeling out of it, so he takes me to another place and tells Kendo. Usually we take turns buying a treat from the cafe, and the two of us just catch up on hero stories.”

As Shinsou continued to explain how Monoma helps him, you wondered if he could help you as well. “I think… I’d like to try that. I can’t promise that I’ll make it more than five minutes, but I want to show you guys that I still like you and that you’re all my friends.”

Hitoshi smiled and outstretched his hand. “Shall we?”

You mirrored his smile and took it.

When the two of you arrived at the beach, everyone shouted your name in unison. They were all so glad to see that you were okay. You explained that you weren’t feeling your best, but Shinsou managed to convince you to hang out for a little while.

The two of you sat next to Monoma in a more quiet spot. He immediately flashed you a soft grin and asked for a hand with his sand castle. You and Hitoshi couldn’t help but provide an assist.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[brumeraven]

🦋: On Bad Luck || burnout, decay, exhaustion, hatred, transformations, depression, some real self-loathing venting sorry

I was four when it found me. Four or maybe five.

My dog died. Jumped out of the back of a moving pickup truck. Mind you, she was wearing her collar, so most of her didn't go under the tires.

Would have been more of a mercy than strangling to death with shattered hips.

Either way, the first abyssal black thread tied itself to me.

Not the largest, mind you. Far from it. But still the first.

Soon, others around me noticed, used it as a leash, tied threads of their to restrain me, to transform me, to make me just like them.

And then...none of it really mattered, I suppose.

Those who'd tied them died too. On the airport sidewalk while waiting for the bus, or shitting themselves in bed alone.

And me?

Well, I just survived. And watched a few more threads join the tangled web.

I was 16 when it finally cracked open.

I learned what love wasn't. Or maybe I just learned that optimism was self-harm.

Either way, whatever was in that chrysalis touched the world for the first time.

And everything went to hell. Well, more to hell.

Movies got worse. Slowly at first, bits of spectacle replacing plot, but eventually everything became remakes and wise-cracking superheroes.

Every year, books got worse. Romance became chastity porn became dull fan fiction masquerading as boundary-pushing success stories.

Every year, games got worse. At first, they just went from being fun to becoming a job, a full-time commitment. Then they stopped even being able to be that, turned into the amalgam of self-flagellation and gambling that we all somehow refuse to call addiction.

Every year, food got worse. First, well, it was just counting calories, but then it became counting fat and then carbs and then gluten. Now, neither flavor nor even health is really in it.

Everything tastes like acid and rust anyways.

The world got dirtier. Scarier. More dangerous. Invisible diseases to maim or kill lurking behind every smile.

No more room for bipartisanship, willful ignorance is a valid political affiliation, and there's always a war overseas.

But I survived.

Pulled all those threads together into a shape that suited me. Wore it as obtuse armor against all of the acute shit I hated around me.

And then the comments started.

"Of course you don't like it. You're such a negative person."

The first time was a surprise.

The second time it hurt.

By the third, well, I was just defensive.

You'd be negative too if you had my luck.

You'd be negative if you could see what the world was, the strings it tied to us.

Wasn't until years later that I realized the threads weren't going the way I thought.

The world hadn't corrupted me. I'd corrupted it.

Every year, things got worse, all because of me. Because of the pernicious touch of the winged imago that had crawled out of those raven threads.

The world wasn't shit. I was.

Guess I don't have bad luck; I just make it.

~🦋

[thefanficmonster]

Take That!

Corpse Husband & Reader (Female) ft. Streamer Gang

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Suppressed Sadness, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: What is a friend? Your smile through the tears. The umbrella over your head when it starts raining. The ointment to your wound. But if you wanna put it in a more literal manner, a friend is something that doesn’t have a concrete definition. It can be the person you sit next to in class or the person who’s hundreds of miles away from you and you’re connected to through a Discord call.

Requested by Anon. Hello dear! Thank you so much for your request, sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read if you happen to come across the fic. Love, Vy ❤

There are those days when I wake up excited for a new day. There are also those days when the thought of playing Among Us with my friends is all that gets me out of bed. And then there are those days when not even that can get me to budge. Today is one of those days.

I’d still be in bed right now had I not needed to use the bathroom. On my way back to hide under my covers, I heard my cat’s meow from the kitchen, reminding me she needed to be fed. After tending to that task I just sort of lost will to return to bed either. Speaking truthfully, today is a will-less day. The type of day where I have no idea what to do with myself because I feel so odd and uncomfortable: heavy and bustling head, motivation below zero no matter whether I have zero tasks to tend to or a mountain high pile of work. It’s a laying on the floor and letting my mind eat away at me type of day and I can’t say I appreciate it.

The only thing I have to look forward to is the game of Among Us Corpse invited me to yesterday. Had I known I’d wake up feeling like absolute shit, I wouldn’t have accepted. I just know I’ll be a downer the whole time because I suck at covering up how I feel - my smiling masks and faux happiness don’t cut it but staying quiet is even worse because I’m typically and energetic and bubbly person, always having something to say or a comment to add to the conversation. Always looking to make people laugh.

Well, it’s hard to make people laugh when you feel like a deflated balloon.

I can’t describe the feeling any better than that - I feel empty, maybe a little sad somewhere in the mix, unmotivated. I keep these feelings to myself cause whenever I bring them up people just blow me off, saying I’m describing laziness but more dramatically. Either that or burnout which is sometimes the case, but I’m more than sure that it’s not the culprit for today. You can only blame burnout so many times.

Anyway, I make a mental note, promising myself I’m not gonna bail on my friends regardless of whether my mood gets better or worse. Who knows, maybe a gaming session with them is exactly what I need.

                                                              *  *  *

Not much has changed with my emotional state - I’ve spent a good chunk of the day surfing through TV channels and my socials with nothing else to occupy my mind but the overwhelming knowledge that I’m not feeling ok and that hyperawareness of a void that I feel but cannot describe. At one point, Corpse sent me a text to confirm I’d be participating in the gaming session and I was this close to saying no. This close to coming up with some bullshit excuse and bailing but I didn’t, thankfully. 

Here’s the thing about this drop in mood of mine - I know it’s gonna be gone by morning. It bullies me, beats and batters me for only twenty four hours - never more, never less. Like clockwork and as precise as a Swiss watch. And so fucking annoying. No matter what I do, I can’t end it prematurely and I can never wake up feeling down and unmotivated the next morning - there’s always a surge of motivation coursing through me and it drives me to be super productive as if making up for what I didn’t do the previous day when I was in the dumps.

It’s a twisted way of it showing me I’m powerless and at the mercy of a force that, despite being mine and existing within me, I’m completely unfamiliar with. It’s so fucking unfair, it’s disheartening.

“Hi everyone! Sorry I’m late.“ I greet the five people who have already gathered in the Discord call and the Among Us lobby.

Yeah, sorry I’m late, I was contemplating not showing up at all last minute

“Don’t worry about it, many people are running late as you can see.“ Rae replies reassuringly, “How’s your day? Anything spectacular happen?“

I can’t help but scoff, “Yeah sure, a TON of spectacularism in my life on the daily. From the large stack of papers I couldn’t bring myself to touch, to the dusty surfaces all over my apartment I didn’t convince myself to clean - it’s all fabulous over here.”

Fuck, that was too real

“Whoa, where’d all this sarcasm come from?“ Rae asks, sounding genuinely baffled rather than teasing, “It’s never been your strong suit.“

“Neither has unproductivity.“ Corpse, my best friend, chimes in, “Everything ok?“

Well, I admit, I should’ve known better than to have an outburst like that in front of people who have known me for a while now and can probably gauge my emotions even without me admitting to them. I truly don’t know where it came from. Hell, I didn’t even see it coming.

“Nah, it’s ok. I’m just being lazy, I guess.” I’m quick to withdraw and brush off any suspicion. The last thing I want is to worry my friends or, even worse, receive the same response from them: that I’m being dramatic, that I’m attention-seeking, that I’m just lazy and unmotivated as are most people of my generation.

“You know, what people often self-diagnose as ‘laziness’ often turns out to be something more serious. I don’t mean to scare you, but it could be depression.“ Corpse says after a brief moment of silence in the call, his voice soft and cautious as if explaining a complex problem to a kid who’s bound to be hurt by what it’s told.

I can’t help but chuckle. He has no idea how much he’s relieved me by saying that. I always ‘don’t want to talk about it’ and ‘want to change the subject’ while what I truly need happens to be the complete opposite. I need someone to hear me out, I need someone who will not brush me and my concerns off like we don’t matter. I need someone who’ll understand. And if these people who have openly struggled with anxiety or depression don’t get me, who will?

“Yeah, I genuinely thought I thought of myself as a lowlife while I was in college cause I started losing motivation for everything and started fearing what was to come. I began avoiding going out and talking to people cause I felt like I was the sore thumb in the friend group I had - the only one without any specific goal or a dream.“ Leslie says out of the blue, “Turns out I suffered through a burnout so bad it turned into an anxiety/depression combo that I just blamed on being a lazy college student.“

“Same here!“ Toast pipes in, “I was bedridden for a while during the first days of my streaming career, for a very ridiculous reason - I believed I didn’t deserve the attention I was getting and I wasn’t doing as well as people gave me credit for. So that had me crippled with self-doubt for a long while.“

“I still don’t believe I’m doing as well as I get credit for, but oh well.“ Leslie laughs, “I already told you all about my dumpster-fire of a brain, so I’m instead gonna say: what you need is an appointment with a therapist. Also - you need to stop underestimating your struggles. Invalidating yourself and what you’re going through is gonna make things only worse for you. You need to love yourself.“

“And you need us!“ Rae exclaims, “You need the best support you can get and, lucky for you, we’re the best in the business. Count on us always being there for you, Y/N. Cause we always will be.“

“You’re never alone. We’re all just a call or a text away. Especially me.“ Corpse adds, “I’m basically at your service 24/7, just like you’ve always been for me. What are best friends for if not sharing mental struggles and lifting each other up afterwards?“

I don’t know when this smile made its home on my face but it seems to be rather happy with where it is and wants to stay. Something tells me that thanks to these guys, it will indeed stay there for quite some time. And every time it tries to slip away, they’ll be there to bring it back.

“Then let’s lift each other up, shall we? I mean, what better way to do it other than killing each other and getting away with it?“ I attempt a giggle, hiding my emotions behind it like my life depends on it. Chances are they heard all I’m feeling in my voice, but I can only hope they’re not gonna mention it.

“Y/N, hun, I’m sorry to burst your bubble but....you never get away with it.“ Corpse wheezes, causing me to narrow my eyes and frown.

“Oh, you’re so gonna get it now!“ I exclaim, cracking my knuckles before getting my hands on my keyboard, “Start the game! I have a point to prove!“

And just like that, in what felt like the blink of an eye, the clouds have shuffled aside to make path for the sunshine to grace my brain with positivity I was not expecting to feel until tomorrow morning. I can’t give myself the credit for that though - it all goes to these amazing people I have the honor of calling friends.

I may have no power over it on my own, but with the gang’s help, I can take full control of it. And as a middle finger to the melancholy, I’ll do it all with a bright smile on my face.

Take that, brain!

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

hey so i'm hoping to get some writing advice about creative burnout? like i seem to write in fits and spurts. some months i can churn out a oneshot or chapter everyday and some months i can do one (1) creative thing only. so i'm wondering how to prevent creative burnout and how to just create more smoothly <3 thank you!

Creative Burnout & How To Ward Against It

First, I’d like to preface this all by saying you’re definitely not alone. You probably already know this, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.

I know from personal experience that creative burnout can leave you feeling hopeless, detached from yourself—the kind of identity crisis no one needs in 2020. 

So buckle in, folks. It’s a dosy.

I. The Symptoms

Not to be the local WebMD page here, but signs of burnout can include:

Procrastination (more than usual)

Dreading writing and feeling stuck or overly perfectionistic when you try

Physical tiredness and/or irritability

Feeling like everything is monotonous

It’s more than just writer’s block. It’s a physical and emotional exhaustion response to something that goes deeper than a simple lack of inspiration. In my experience, and from a bit of research, I’ve found that what your brain is really looking for is dopamine.

Dopamine is essentially your brain’s chemical reward system for doing something interesting or exciting to you. As someone who is diagnosed with ADHD, I have chronically low levels of dopamine, so this is a constant struggle for me—but it is absolutely made worse by creative burnout.

II. The Problem

Studies have shown that the more we do A Thing the less that thing will give us dopamine (unless a component of the activity changes regularly). This is because eventually our brains desensitise to the stimuli provided by the activity, and subsequently, we become disengaged.

But it’s not necessarily The Thing (i.e. writing) that becomes boring. Actually, more than a few factors could be at play here, and the first step to finding a solution is to identify the problem.

1. ENVIRONMENT LACKS EXCITEMENT/CHANGE—

Sometimes, the monotony of everyday life can feed creative burnout. This becomes especially applicable in quarantine when you’re not leaving your house.

What we don’t realise is that even something as small as the variables of driving to and from work, or interacting with passing coworkers, gives us dopamine. So if you have the same routine every day that does not involve any added variables, your brain will begin staunching that dopamine supply.

2. EITHER TOO EASY OR TOO CHALLENGING—

In 1975, Hungarian-American psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, coined the term “flow”, which refers to a heightened state of creativity and concentration on an activity. Csikszentmihalyi posited that if your skill level is equal to the level of challenge in any given activity, you will experience this state of flow.

The chart below is taken from Csikszentmihalyi’s own study on the subject of flow and motivation. It examines “your skill level” on the x axis in relation to the “challenge level” on the y axis.

Essentially:

Too much challenge + not enough skill = anxiety, worry (which might lead to procrastination and perfectionism)

Too much skill + not enough challenge = boredom, apathy (which might lead to monotony, irritability, and other depression-like symptoms)

Skill level = Challenge level = Flow

3. NOT ENOUGH “ACTIVE” STIMULATION—

When it comes to dopamine seeking, there is a distinct difference between active and passive stimulation in the brain.

Active stimulation is any form of activity that you have to actively engage in. For instance; exercising, doing a crossword puzzle, or reading a book. These kinds of activities not only give you dopamine, they also facilitate critical thinking and problem solving thought processes, which act as catalysts for creativity.

Passive stimulation, on the other hand, comes in the form of television, social media, and YouTube. It’s anything you can consume without having to actively engage. Passive stimulation will indeed give your brain dopamine, however, it won’t activate your creativity.

The problem also lies in the speed at which you receive the dopamine from passive activities. Passive stimulation is so easy to access that the more you consume, the harder it becomes to pick up active stimulation. Your brain expects a hit of dopamine just by picking up a phone or turning on the TV—it becomes addicted to the quick fix of a Netflix binge.

III. The Solutions

Based on the problems mentioned above, I am going to list a few solutions. Keeping in mind that not every solution will work for everyone, these can act as both preventative measures and remedies for someone who is currently burned out.

1. CHANGE UP YOUR ENVIRONMENT/ROUTINE—

Aim to do at least one thing per day that will add “variables” to the monotony. This can be as simple as going on a long walk, dressing up in that bold outfit you always wanted to wear to the office but never did, or sitting at a different workspace in your home.

Anything you can do that’s simple, but might provide an extra variable to your day to spice things up. Note: this shouldn’t be the same thing every day.

2. CHALLENGE YOURSELF MORE—

If you find yourself bored by your work, try challenging yourself more. This could mean setting goals for yourself that go a bit beyond what you’ve been doing. 

For example, if you’ve been writing 500 words per day, see if you can beat your own word count every day for the next week. If you’ve been writing mainly fluff pieces, switch it up and do an angst piece. See if you can write a book in a month, or start a blog where you don’t write fiction at all!

Anything you can do to add a little kick to your workload. Note: Beware of challenging yourself too much! This can lead straight back into burnout.

3. CHALLENGE YOURSELF LESS—

If you’re on the flip side of that coin, and find that you are anxious, procrastinating, and perfectionistic when it comes to writing, fret not. Just because you’re experiencing any of these things, doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing the job with your skillset.

It just means your perception of the job needs to be shifted.

Procrastination, at its heart, is a fear of failure, which results in actively avoiding the negative emotions associated with the task that causes this fear. Perfectionism is a type of procrastination that is a combination of a fear of failure and a fear of success (or, more accurately, other’s critiques of your success) all at once.

Neither have anything to do with your actual skillset, but they have everything to do with your perception of your skillset. Obviously, this is a harder thing to fix, as it has to do with deeply ingrained levels of self-esteem.

What I can offer you is a tactic to trick your mind into thinking you’re capable.

If you have a task, big or small, and you are feeling overwhelmed by it (like you might go curl up in bed and scroll Tumblr), immediately break that task up into smaller tasks. Keep breaking up the smaller tasks until you have the smallest possible part of the bigger task without doing nothing.

Then do that smallest possible thing.

If your goal is to write a 2000 word one shot, a small part of that task is writing half of it. An even smaller part of that task is breaking the one shot up into “scenes” and writing one scene. For instance:

Jude wakes up to a sore throat, a runny nose, and a fever.

She tries to go to work, but Cardan, being the mother hen that he is, threatens to never make her another grilled cheese sandwich (her favourite food) ever again if she doesn’t stay home.

Jude agrees begrudgingly, and Cardan sits her down in front of the TV with a bottle of Gatorade. He leaves to go get medicine from the store.

When Cardan comes back, Jude is worse than before. He makes her soup and saltine crackers and spoon feeds her.

She complains the whole time and, in her feverish state, threatens to never buy him another bottle of wine (his favourite food) ever again if he doesn’t let her feed herself.

Each bullet point represents one “scene” of about 200-400 words each. Obviously, there will be more details that you work out as you write. But with these five smaller scenes, your goal is no longer writing the 2000 word one shot. Your goal is writing the first of the five scenes.

If you complete the smallest possible task, you can stop, and you’ll still feel like you’ve accomplished something because you can cross off that task from your list. But chances are, by the time you cross off one task, you may have inspiration enough to keep going.

4. ENGAGE IN ACTIVE STIMULATION—

Since active stimulation has been proven to turn on the creative “tap”, try incorporating more of these activities into your daily routine:

Exercise: As the resident couch potato, I hate to say that exercising is good for creativity, but it is. Even if it’s just going on a short walk, so long as you’re moving.

Reading: Sometimes you have plenty of ideas, but no words to fit those ideas. Fill your well of words by carving out an hour or two each day for reading a good book.

The Creative Process: In the writing world, the creative process is a process of about 20-30 minutes that the writer partakes in every day before they start writing. This process should be creative, but also have nothing to do with writing. You can try colouring in a colouring book, painting, organising a page in your bullet journal. Anything that is creative but does not make you think about everything you have to do that day. Think of it as creative meditation.

Listen to music: Having APD, I personally can’t listen to music while I write. However, studies have shown that if you listen to at least ten songs per day, it will significantly benefit your dopamine levels and overall mood. If you’re like me and prefer to work in silence, maybe stick on a couple songs during your creative process. If you can manage music and writing together, get out those headphones!

5. KEEP A REGULAR SCHEDULE—

I know this is the most cliche point in the book, but it’s valid. This doesn’t mean do the same thing at the same time every day over and over, because ultimately we’re looking to avoid monotony. 

But having pillars of structure to bolster the excitement can definitely work to keep you from slipping into burnout. Going to sleep, waking up, and having your meals at relatively the same time every day are good examples of this. 

Feel free to change up the things you do between breakfast and lunch, but make sure you have those pillars of consistency so your brain knows that a break is on the horizon and doesn’t get tired.

6. PACE YOURSELF—

This is particularly difficult for those of us who are coming out of a creative burnout, but I urge you to pay special attention to this one. If we are suddenly hit by inspiration and the writing is flowing and flowing and flowing, eventually we will hit the point of highest dopamine capacity for writing.

Not putting a check on the flood of inspiration coming out of a creative burnout, I’d argue, is actually a guarantee that many of us will experience burnout all over again. It becomes this vicious cycle in which we are trapped.

While it feels great to write non-stop and receive immediate validation for that work, try to limit yourself to how much you’re writing and how immediately you post your writing (if you plan on posting it).

Whenever I finish a one shot or a chapter of something, I like to allow at least one day for editing before I post. This timeframe is important, because it acts as a buffer of rest between writing marathons. 

You can take however long you need for the editing process, but definitely make sure you have a set amount of time in place. Otherwise, your brain might not have enough time to come down from what is essentially a writing high, and you will always need to reach greater heights in order to achieve that same level of dopamine.

~~~~

Overall, the most important things to take away from all of this are: 

Change up your environment

Keep your brain actively stimulated 

Have pillars of structure between which you can run about chaotically to your heart’s content

PACE YOURSELF!

Hope this helped. Happy writing!

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Tip Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

Celebrate 2K with me!

[fairyoftbz]

[06:59]

🎄Day 21 of the Christmas project🎄

It was early, but it was for a good cause. Even if you were not very motivated, you had to meet the obligations of your education. The fall semester at university ended last Friday, just two days ago, and you were already studying again. You wanted to get ahead to have a little rest around January before your upcoming exams. Because yes, your university found it reasonable to take schedule tests and reports to submit right before the Christmas holidays, to finally push you to prepare for the semester exams in February. How nice of them. It wasn't a holiday, more like days you didn't go to university, but you had to live with it.

Eric was soundly sleeping in your shared bed, trying to recuperate the hours of sleep he'd missed over the past few weeks, if not months. He was working a lot, almost as hard as you, and he tended to have to catch up on his sleeping hours to be up and efficient. You came back from the bathroom and stealthily walked to your desk, grabbed your laptop before closing the bedroom door, heading to the living room to work without disturbing your still sleeping boyfriend.

He emerged a few moments later, searching for your figure on your side of the bed, his hand only touching the cold sheets. Opening his eyes, you were neither sitting in bed nor at your desk, which made Eric's brows knit. He blinked several times to keep his eyes open and stood from the bed, a shiver running through his body as his feet touched the cold floor.

Typing on your keyboard and turning the pages of your notes for the past several hours, the bedroom door opened on your boyfriend, still looking very sleepy and hair messy. He was pouting as he rubbed his eyes, searching for you in the small apartment.

"What are you doing up so early?" He asked, his morning voice still very rocky and a few octaves lower. "I want to get ahead of the rest of the vacation. I'm still in the studying mood so might as well take advantage of it," you explained as you extended your arms above your head, a few bones in your back cracking from the gesture.

Eric looked at you sleepily, arms dangling on his sides, your words rising to his sleepy brain, waiting to be analysed. His eyes stared at you for a few seconds before he let out a deep sigh.

“Y/N, please stop. It's the holidays, take this time to rest and spend some time with your lovely boyfriend,” he whined with a childish smile, shuffling his way towards you, collapsing down beside you. He took your computer from your hands, put it on the coffee table before pushing the papers off your knees to come to rest his head. Surprised by his demeanour, you frowned with a playful smile, your hand got lost in his hair, and he sighed. He wrapped his arm around your thighs and squeezed them gently, enjoying this little moment of serenity in your company.

"Promise me you'll rest, at least until Christmas?" he whispered against the flannel of your pyjama pants and you sighed, not sure what to answer him. "I don't know, I want to get a head start in the exams revision, I'm afraid of running out of time," you confessed to your boyfriend, who shifted his weight on his hands to look you straight in the eyes. "Listen Y/N, if you don't take the time to take care of yourself and rest, you're going to burnout, and you'll waste even more time. I can still remember your freshman year in college, and I don't want that to happen again. I had never seen you this dejected and depressed, I don't want it to happen again. Give yourself some free time to clear your mind and think about something else, you have plenty of time to work after the holiday season,” you looked at the coffee table without much interest and Eric grabbed your chin to prevent you from looking away. "Y/N, I promise we'll work together after the holidays, but please rest. Okay? Do it not only for me but also for you," he addressed you a hopeful look, and you nodded with a shy smile, earning a wink from your boyfriend. You shut down your computer and stack your papers on the table, nuzzling against your boyfriend, hair tickling his exposed skin.

"Okay, now that I'm not allowed to try and get smarter anymore," you said with a nasty look and playfully smiled at Eric, "what do we do?" "We can go back to bed first, it's only 8:30 am, and I'm still sleepy," he stifled a yawn, and you kissed his cheek. He took your hand without asking your opinion and dragged you by the hand to the bedroom, where the blankets were still warm. In any case, Eric's still were.

You scooted over on his side of the bed to get some warmth, encircling your arm around his neck while the other crossed his stomach. His lips gently touched your forehead and lingered on your skin, sending a wave of warmth and happiness into your body. You felt really good and peaceful with him.

"How nice," you whispered, and he chuckled, removing a strand of hair out of your eyes. "See, I told you. It’s better than studying right?" he replied, and you rolled your eyes before closing them, feeling your body fall back into a deep sleep.

Eric smirked when he felt you slump against him, and he sighed. He was proud but worried, despite your burnout of the last year, you were ready to do it all over again. He could see that you were having difficulty taking care of yourself and getting out of this mindset, but he knew you could be able to do it, even if he had to care of you. He had taken on this mission as soon as he saw you plunge into this vicious cycle of negative thoughts about yourself. Eric wanted you to manage to take care of yourself like you took care of him.

He had a harder time falling back to sleep than you, but that didn't mean he wasn't relaxed. He had you pressed against him, his hand gently stroking your cheek while the other rested on your hip. Smiling when he saw you were wearing one of his t-shirts to sleep, he didn't mind the fact that you stole his clothes, he liked it, it awakened something inexplicable in him. He covered you with kisses until your body heat made him fall asleep, joining you in your slumber in a few minutes.

You emerged a few hours later, your eyes burning from the daylight streaming through the curtains. The alarm clock behind your boyfriend read 10:25, and your eyes widened at the lateness of your awakening. As you were about to throw the covers at the foot of the bed and start your day, but the words of the man drooling against your chest came back to mind. Stroking his short hair, you sighed and positioned your head comfortably against the headboard, observing Eric, who had started to snore, occasionally mumbling your name in his sleep while tightening his hold around your body.

You let him sleep another twenty minutes, kissing his forehead and shaking him lightly to wake him up gently. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he straightened up from your chest, looking at you even more sleepy than the first time.

"Did you plan to sleep for longer?" You quizzed him as he slumped down again, this time on his side of the bed. "I could sleep all day if I could." "Come on, my cute little sloth, we gotta wake up," you said, ruffling his hair for a brief moment, but he grabbed your hand to drop little kisses on the inside of your wrist. "Do you want to order food? I know a good place-” he offered, but you shook your head. “No, we're going to cook brunch. Here, you're going to come and help me, that way you can make yourself useful." "Y/NNNNN, you're not funny," he whined, but you shook your head as he tried to seduce you with his best puppy eyes. “Come on, let's go, darling. We still have the apartment to decorate." "Okay, okay," he pouted, defeated, but straightened up anyway, watching you out of the corner of his eye before pouncing on you, his desperate attempt to keep you from getting out of bed.

"Kiss attack!" He screamed, and you laughed, trying to escape his arms as he began to kiss every inch of skin his mouth could meet. You struggled again, and he stopped, keeping you trapped in his arms as you tried to catch your breath from all your laughter. "I love you Y/N," he whispered in your ear, and you smiled, even wider, turning your head towards him to put your lips on his. “Me too, Eric, me too. But come on, I’m hungry."

[rpbetter]

I often see multis post that they want to make a new muse, at the same time as they're backed up on threads and asks, and they get their followers to "enable" them to make that muse in the post replies. What is your take on this? Is it a they-can-do-what-they-want situation, or is it reasonable to be annoyed when I see this? Or both?

Hey, Anon!

Both.

I mean, as usual, this is my opinion of an opinion-based matter. This isn't an equation that has an objectively right to wrong scale, it isn't actually hurting any living person or thing. But...it is incredibly annoying and can be hurtful.

They can totally do what they want, and much of the nature of genuine creativity is exactly that - the allowance of doing whatever you so desire. It's something I support rather adamantly, but it's also something I support trying our best to do responsibly and without being hurtful to anyone in a hobby that involves more than ourselves.

This isn't deciding to write another fic when you've not finished the previous four or five that others were interested in, or never finishing any of your original fiction, but continually starting new projects. While others might be enjoying those things as well, you didn't agree to interact with them. They're audience members, not participants.

When others are participants in a hobby that has to work both ways, it's different. Your actions do affect other, real human beings.

So, I totally feel like you've a right to be annoyed every time you see that happening. I do. I tend to unfollow people who do that repeatedly, as we're not pursuing the hobby in the same way. I'll argue all day that someone has a right to their, sometimes literally, eighty-plus muses they never develop or stick to, but that doesn't mean I want to engage with them as a writing partner.

For those of us who want long-term writing partners with the same, well-developed muses, this kind of thing just is annoying. As is everything else that comes with it.

As in...

They're constantly posting "talk me out of adding x" as code for "talk me into writing x."

No one actually wants to be talked out of it, which was probably more obvious to everyone else here than it was me for a little while lmao I tend to take things rather literally. This was, as one can imagine, not appreciated! Telling someone in total earnestness, "I really don't think that's a good choice. You're always saying how overwhelmed you are and just dropped multiple threads yesterday, so adding another muse is going to make you feel worse eventually. Don't do it! :)" is so not what they were looking for. As was evident by the return meltdown over how they could do what they wanted, like I said they couldn't or had any authority over what they're doing with their time.

It's an obnoxious bit of pandering for a foregone conclusion.

Have you ever seen anyone who posts that sort of thing not pick up that muse? I haven't. I've only seen muns who are legitimately on the fence about it asking others in private conversations or testing out the muse decide against it. The thing that makes this incredibly irritating is the attention-seeking and need to validate something they must know isn't a great choice, otherwise, they'd just do it. They're aware that they're behind on drafts, asks, and other things - aware that this is maybe a dick move when they owe everyone already. So, they're seeking "permission" with full knowledge that multiple mutuals are going to hop on that post with encouragement, even some of the ones being messed over by this choice.

It puts people in a bad situation.

Some of those people genuinely don't care, they just want to interact with any muse, and I'm going to be awful and say it - they don't care about totally interchangeable muses and have them themselves. That's fine, this isn't a problem for them. It is for the mutuals who are hoping that maybe if their writing partner gets into this new muse, they'll get a reply to their threads with that energy, or that they'll stick to this one and they can have consistent interactions with them. It is for the mutuals who feel pressured to respond positively because they fear not responding at all will make them seem like bad rpers.

One more thing playing into the counter logic excuse for shitty behavior of "it's just a hobby" is one more thing too many, and it does exactly that.

No one wants to be accused of being remotely too invested in RP anymore, of taking it too seriously, or having any emotional investment in muses, stories, or muns. Not accepting every choice someone makes that negatively impacts you with a grin on your face while you dump confetti on them for it just isn't a comfortable option for a lot of muns anymore. Honesty isn't a comfortable option. While the other option isn't either, it seems better than that mutual noticing you're the only writing partner who didn't hop onto that post with support any of the multiple times they reblogged it. It's only a hobby in which everyone can do what they want until what one wants clashes. Then, you're getting a callout for being addicted to RP.

And the way it tends to clash most is in having expectations of others. Ones that would be totally normal in any other hobby requiring interaction with other people.

Like not overburdening yourself at the expense not only of yourself but those on your "team." That's what is being done when someone knows they cannot keep up with themselves, but continues to add to the situation with new muses.

Not only are you no longer getting responses already while they're intending to add even more to their overflowing plate, you'll be dropped again when they have to "fresh start" their blog because they're burned out.

I have to put that in quotations because I don't know how it's a fresh start when you keep everything but the blog layout the same. All the muses and all the behaviors, including adding a new one despite not having the time or interest necessary to do so, is inevitably maintaining the problems that led to burnout. Dropping every thread, changing the URL, a new blog layout, new aesthetics, isn't fixing the issue even if it temporarily reinvigorates the mun.

The mun is definitely doing things that are not helpful to them, it's stressful and upsetting to experience burnout, but it's at least that mun's choice. Both to do it and to become defensive over fixing it, thus, never fixing it. It isn't anyone else's choice to be repeatedly dropped or ignored, though...unless they just keep sticking around for it.

Again, we're supposed to respect everyone's choices. That's fine when it really works that way, when it is truly everyone. But it's not an acceptable decision to see a multimuse of twenty or more muses and say that's your limit, that you've experienced too many muns who are serial muse-adders not being able to keep up with themselves, so you don't interact with these blogs. If one feels that way, they had better not put it in their rules or ever be upfront about this as a reason, when one is demanded, for not following back or interacting.

It's not acceptable to see a writing partner adding another muse after they've owed you for months, just wiped their inbox, and keep expressing being overwhelmed/behind and become annoyed. Let alone dropping them or explaining to them why you are doing so.

The only "acceptable" course of action is hoping that they totally forget you exist so you can quietly slip away.

I don't feel like that's especially fair or mature. It certainly isn't helping the communication problem we absolutely do have here in the RPC when only one party is allowed to communicate without fear of being labeled, rather ironically, as a bad RP partner.

While this problem seems to be most prevalent in more casual RPers, it's certainly not isolated there. I feel like it's necessary to say that I've had muns I both interacted with and were simply on my dash alike who were not on that more casual side who went from being multis to being muse collectors. Once they hit over fifteen of them or so, they stopped even bothering to try to refrain from picking up at least one muse from every new piece of media they consumed or were inspired by.

It was more annoying because they had been capable of writing truly unique characters they stuck to, and even if they were, with full and upfront admission before interaction, slower to respond, those responses were well worth any wait for the quality of writing and storytelling going on. That's so much worse than someone who was always at a lower skill level as a writer, didn't have a good grasp on characterization, and wasn't especially dedicated to anything. It's depressing and disappointing, but it's also not what you think you're getting into when trying to carefully pick who to write with. Like everyone else, my time to enjoy this hobby is far from twenty-four-seven as well. It's important to me to try to choose muns I'll work out with well so that neither of us is wasting the other's time. And that's what it feels like - the investment of time was a waste because their hobby became adding infinite muses, or rather, the idea of muses.

So, yes, while it is fully everyone's right to write what and how they want to (even if it amounts to not writing at all), it'd be nice if we were all as committed to doing so in a way that was adult enough to respect commitments we've made to each other as we are, as a RPC, to losing our minds when someone merely drops the words "commitments" or "respect."

For the inevitable muse-collectors running across this:

Fiction is inspiring! That doesn't mean you needn't be inspired by anything, just that picking up or creating a whole other muse might not be the best way to follow this inspiration.

If you're considering another muse, but you find yourself already behind and/or overwhelmed? Try one of these instead:

create a plot based on it! Write up the idea and put it in your wanted plots/wishlist tag. Bring it up to partners you think might be interested in it as well, or seek out a crossover from that fandom

make it a new verse for an existing muse! This is as close as you get to creating a new muse without actually doing so, and in many ways, it takes even more creativity. How is your muse different in this AU than they are in canon, how are they the same? In the ways that they are the same, what similar events but done in a way that is natural/logical to this universe have happened to maintain that? Get really creative!

for either/both of these, make some moodboards and aesthetics with that energy while you're waiting on someone to take you up on these new things. Answer some HC asks or tag games using your new verse, or write an independent HC for the verse or plot

talk to writing partners who already love that muse about their new verse/your desired plot! No, not pressuring talk, just normal conversation between friends, but maybe they will be interested in starting a thread

simply be inspired to include some aspect of what you liked in an existent thread. A particular scene you could pull ideas from, the overall mood of a film, or the way something was written in a book - include that in your replies somehow! RP is creative writing, be creative

There are so many, honestly more organic, directions to take inspiration than bluntly adding a new muse. Especially when you're already overburdened, not holding up your end of replies, and/or not able to portray each muse as their own character properly.

Sometimes, it's not just not a great idea to add a whole new muse, and that's alright. There seems to be a serious problem with fomo going on with this whole issue, too. You're not going to miss out if you do not immediately add this character to your multi, and you're never going to fully keep up with what is trending anyway. Do it because you still want to write this muse in four months instead, they're obviously not going anywhere if that's the case, and they'll be a better developed, interesting portrayal for that.

And people do have a right to be annoyed when they feel sidelined by you seeing a shiny object and repeatedly pandering for validation in dropping them for it. Particularly if you're a mun who, further, expects everyone to be just as interested in every new muse you make as the last. As in, you're annoyed when you keep creating muses no one is falling over themselves to interact with, guilting, shaming, or outright demanding that this new muse is interacted with before they have access to the previous ones.

They don't have a right to be mean you to, but they have a right to be annoyed and to drop you. They even have a right to politely decline explaining this to you if they feel unsafe, or to politely explain it to you before they move on.

Absolutely everyone's right to pursue RP and every facet of it as they so please, but no one else has to like what you're doing.

If this response grates on some of you out there? Consider the other options you have, how you might be making others feel, and that it's actually completely okay to tell yourself no. You won't perish if you tell yourself no to taking on a new muse when you, honestly, should not! It'll be okay! Maybe, you just need to evaluate if there is another muse, or more than one, you should remove before adding one. Maybe, you just need some time to reorganize how you reply before you add this one. "No" when told to yourself can simply mean "no, not right now, it isn't a good time/situation."

[aplaceforthesoul]

(cw: mentions of depression and past self-harm) Hi. I am starting to get pretty frustrated with my parents. For context: I have dysthymic disorder. I struggled with depression for years, along with self-harm, but my parents barely talked to me about it after finding out. When I went to college I (eventually) signed myself up for counselling, and later therapy. But that is also not talked about. Where the real frustration comes in is that an acquaintance of theirs had to take a break due to burnout (which is shit, don't get me wrong). They have all the sympathy for them, but when I expressed I could barely get through the semester due to depressive episodes, they basically told me to just carry on and get over it.... It just feels like they care about everyone else's wellbeing while they just want me to be normal to the point of completely ignoring that I have a mental illness. I often feel guilty about it because my parents didn't ask for this, but neither did I. If anything, I should be mad at them for not trying to help me instead of the other way around.

I’m so sorry your parents aren’t supportive :( I suffer with similar parents who don’t take mental health seriously, so I certainly know where you’re coming from. For me personally, I just don’t discuss any of my mental health with my parents - they’re not obligated to know what’s going on with me because they have never really done anything to help. For context, I’m 31 and I’ve had mental health issues my whole life, I didn’t get help until I was in my early twenties. You can keep trying to make them see things from your perspective but at the end of the day it’s unlikely that they’re going to change overnight and all you’re doing is frustrating yourself further.

The best thing you can do is heal on your own and take time for yourself. Leave them out of your personal struggles as much as you’re physically able to and just learn to let go of that frustration. Sometimes holding on to something can do us more harm than good - like the idea that parents will suddenly change and stop messing us up. I’m sorry I can’t give you better advice than that :( but know that you’re strong, you’re awesome and you got this. As adults we get to choose how much we let others into our lives, so the older you get, it does get easier, I promise.

- Bonnie

[ramblings-of-a-cavill-lover]

Of Bites And Tough Times

Summary: Henry and his wife discuss what is to be done about their daughter’s behavior at school, but bring up topics that lay buried for too long.

Warnings: Depression/ language/ burnout/ couple’s argument/ (blink and you’ll miss) talk of divorce/ very little fluff/ loads of angst. If you notice anything that should be included in the warnings, please let me know.

Word count: 3k+

A/N: This was requested by my dear @constip8merm8 who wanted a story closer to the real world, that couldn’t be fluffy or smutty. I wasn’t pretty faithful to the theme (the daughter biting other children at school and they discuss how to deal with it) but she told me it was good, so here it is.

Gif by @henricavyll​

Rose was the light of his life.

The day she arrived he was there.

Every rough night, when she was colicky, he insisted on holding her for as long as she needed the comfort.

He was there for the first tooth and the crying that came with it.

He was there for the times when she’d mumble “mama”, just to insist she said “papa”.

He managed to capture on film the first time she stood up, using a chubby fistful of Kal’s fur for support.

He dedicated the first eighteen months of her life to be there for her and his wife.

But time is a luxury in his job. If he spent much longer away from photo shoots and auditions, the spotlight would shift to a younger, better looking actor, and he wasn’t ready to give up acting just yet.

The following four months were full of airports, makeup artists, hair stylists, clicks from famous photographers and paparazzi alike.

He had grown too fond of the silence from that side of his life and the few phone calls they’d get from family and friends every week. Having to reacquaint himself with the constant chiming of his notifications wasn’t easy, and he found himself struggling with the change.

He didn’t commit to anything long term at first, but the idea was certainly on his mind warring with the delight of returning to the giggling toothy grin and bouncing curls with some frequency.

It had been three days since he returned from his most recent commitment abroad and Rose was still clingy - not that he’d ever complain.

Taking her to nursery school had become his job, per her decree, and on that Friday he decided to linger a bit after dropping her to chat with other parents.

The shrill scream pierced Henry’s ears but faded into wailing before his eyes could register where it had come from.

It had happened once before and his fears were confirmed when his daughter’s teary, bicolored eyes, already regretful, met his own.

Relief and gratitude for being there at that moment washed over him along with anger and dismay in the split second it took him to understand the situation.

Her teacher was leading her away from the other child by her upper arm, when he reached them.

It had been a topic of conversation with his wife, unfortunately leading to an argument.

“If I hadn’t been there, watching… She was about to bite the other kid. And when the teacher showed me a picture of the incident… I was mortified Henry. I wanted to dig a hole and hide.” The tears welling in her eyes as she recounted what had happened earlier only fueled an anger he tried to mitigate and keep out of his words.

“How bad was it?”

“It’s not a matter of how bad! It’s a matter of her repeating that behavior and dealing with adults trying to correct her in a way we wouldn’t. It’s also a matter of her not doing it anymore! Why is this happening? So many children adapt so well, why not her?”

Breathing deeply through his nostrils, he concentrated on biting back the opinion she disagreed with. This didn’t have to become a fight.

Going to the living room to pick up a tissue box, he focused on controlling his anger before bringing it back to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you say something?” she hissed. “Why don’t you throw the much anticipated ‘I told you so!’ in my face, huh?”

She managed to keep her voice down, so she wouldn’t wake the sleeping culprit, but it only added to the tension between them.

“You want me to? Cause you know I’m thinking it.” he replied quietly.

“I just want to get a bit of my life back Henry! I want to have a sense of self again! I want to have some time for myself!” tears she couldn’t hold anymore ran down her face as she spoke. “I feel like I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want my life anymore Henry.”

He offered her a tissue which she harshly took from his hand.

Her words broke him.

He was grateful that her head hung low in that moment, while blowing her nose. She didn’t see the battle he raged against the tears threatening to pour out of his eyes.

“We finally managed to get her to sleep in her bed. And you’re not here to deal with this every single day. You have the luxury of being with adults, dealing with adult things!” she continued. “I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation that didn’t revolve around nappies, toddler clothing stores or toy brands. I’m going crazy here!”

He could see her side of the issue. He understood how much she was hurting, but he couldn’t fully accept what she wanted.

“I talked to a friend of mine, a psychologist, earlier today.” he started.

She shook her head and waved her hands as if to say she didn’t understand where he was getting at and what that had to do with the subject being discussed at the moment.

He held his palm up towards her, asking her to let him finish, as he usually did when her patience was starting to run low during their arguments.

“He said children present this kind of behavior when they are put in situations or places where they don’t feel safe, or loved, or understood. Or when adults don’t have the patience to deal with them and expect them to behave and be quiet, like adults. That got me thinking…”

“What are you trying to say?” she asked quietly, narrowing her eyes.

He didn’t get to finish whatever he had in mind.

“It’s so easy for a psychologist, or even for you, to simply judge the situation from afar. It’s not like there are any other places nearer to our home, which would make it harder for me, and recapping in case you weren’t paying attention, that’s the opposite of the bloody goal!” she said through her teeth and started counting with her fingers. “It’s also not like we’re going to hire a nanny, because neither you or I want a stranger raising our child! And you’re asking me to put my life on hold for another three or four years.”

He nodded, hugging her when a sob stopped her from saying anything else.

“You’re not here, it’s just me and Rosie. I’m going crazy. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know myself anymore Henry!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he whispered into her hair, trying to be strong for her despite the burning in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want you to feel stuck at home with her. I want you two to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He ran his hands up and down her back in a soothing manner and pulled away, enough to cup her face and wipe the tears with his thumbs. From the way her eyes swept over his face, he knew he probably didn’t do a good job at hiding how much the whole thing hurt him.

“Let’s go to bed. We’re both too tired. I’ll take care of her in the morning, okay?” he suggested and she nodded her agreement before he finished talking. “I’ll make sure we don’t wake you and I hope you’ll get to sleep in.”

“With my luck,” she replied and sniffled, “I’ll probably wake up as soon as the bed gets cold.”

She didn’t wake up.

That morning was spent with half of his brain mulling over everything said the night before. His mind was racing in search for a solution they could compromise on as he helped Rose add blueberries to her yogurt, while he tied her curls in two pigtails and while he took her to the playgroup on the stroller because she didn’t want to walk.

After the long conversation that demanded the presence of the teacher, the school’s counselor and a representative for the administration because of the reoccurrence, he walked out of there with Rose’s sleeping breath fanning his neck and her little fist crumpling the front of his shirt.

Sending his wife a text explaining what had happened, he decided to spend the day out and about with his daughter. He definitely did not want to fight, and after hearing the school’s opinion on the matter, he was even more convinced that she’d have to meet him halfway.

Despite his detailed text message, when he entered the house after five pm, she was mad all the same.

He walked past her without any words, taking Rose to bed, removing her shoes, loosening her hair out of the ties and kissing her forehead.

Leaving the door slightly ajar he drew in a deep breath and went back down the stairs.

“Do you want to go first? Because when I start I really don’t want you to interrupt me.” he said to his wife as he sat on the couch opposite her.

He didn’t like the whole situation. He didn’t like that it brought so much division between them. He even hated the coffee table between them.

“Fine. Go.” she said quietly and crossed her arms.

“Do you hate me for going back to work? Do you want me to take full custody of Rose?”

She blanched at the implications of his words.

“No! What the fuck does that mean? I love her! I love you! I’m just extremely exhausted and that does not help, Henry!”

He nodded, losing steam. Spilling all he wanted to say would only add to the burden she felt she had to carry. After a deep sigh she continued.

“I think it’s quite unfair of you to want me to stay with her 24/7.”

And just like that, his anger flared again.

“You did say, before we married, that you were okay with being a mum, that you understood that these first years would demand more of you. I was sure that it was fine with you being a stay-at-home mum.” he leaned on his elbows, towards her, and shook his head after speaking.

Her mouth went slack with the customary silent ‘oh’, testifying to her deep indignation.

“Is that what this whole argument is about?” she asked quietly.

“Fuck, this is coming out all wrong!” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and running a hand through his hair . “Listen, all I want is for you to be there for her, be it physically or emotionally, finding a place that’s more suitable. I really did not like the way the school handled it this morning, and I would very much like for Rose not to go back to a place where she feels unhappy enough to hurt other children!”

She fell silent. Her face screamed her desire to protest his words or something he’d said, but he was glad she didn’t add oil to the fire.

“I guess we’re all unhappy.” he finally said looking at the floor. “I think I’m going to take her and spend the weekend with my parents.”

“Without me?”

“Yes, without you. It will give you some time to rest, recharge. To do whatever you want or need to do without worrying about meals to prepare and nappies to change. Focus on things that make you happy, that would make this life more bearable for you.”

“Henry, look at me.”

He did, and the pain contorting her features prevented him from hiding his tears any longer.

“I just want what’s best for her.” he whispered around the lump in his throat.

“So do I. But I can’t guarantee that if I’m unhappy, Henry.” she replied between sobs. “Taking her away only makes me feel worse. Why don’t you just throw in my face that I’m a bad mum?”

There were so many words that he wished to say. So many words that he wanted to get off his chest.

He bit them back, crossing the living room and kneeling on the floor next to her on the armchair.

“You’re not a bad mum. You’re the best mum. You’re so caring, so patient, selfless and so, so strong. You go above and beyond for her. I see that. I see that you’re doing the best you can under so much strain. I love you so much!” her fingers were cold when he touched the hand lying on her knee, so he held both of her hands in his.

There was only sniffing and tears filling the quiet void that followed his words.

Warmer hands held his back when he decided to break that silence.

“Could you please make this sacrifice? For me? For us? All of us? I don’t want her to stop playing with other kids, she likes that. I just want you to make sure that the place where she’s playing is a place that nurtures her mentally.”

He paused examining her still tear-streaked face. It was probably a mirror of his own.

“I can get a driver to take her wherever you believe she’ll adapt best.” he pleaded.

He knew she’d hate the idea before her head started shaking minutely. But she said nothing against it.

“I believe it’s the closest we’ll come to an agreement.” she finally whispered after sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “I’ll start looking on Monday.”

“Thank you. And while you’re at it, maybe you could look into a place where she could go more than just a couple of days a week?” he said, getting up and planting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Have you eaten?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” she answered absentmindedly, and added,”I ate a granola bar, just before you arrived.”

“Want me to cook you something?” he asked, stopping halfway to the kitchen.

“Have you eaten?” she asked, her voice still far away.

“Yes. We had hamburgers.” he replied before adding with a halfhearted smile, “Well, she ate half of her hamburger, I ate mine and the other half. She inhaled the chips though.”

“Oh. Did she eat your chips too?”

“A fair amount. So, what do you feel like?”

“I’m not hungry.” she answered.

“Okay.” he said, sighing and making for the stairs once more. “If you need me, I’ll be packing her bag.”

The fifth step creaked under his feet before she spoke.

“Why can’t you?”

“‘Why can’t I’ what?” he asked, puzzlement clear in his tone.

“Why can’t you make that sacrifice?” she asked again, looking at nothing in particular.

“Are you asking me why I can’t stay at home?” the disbelief on his tone brought her eyes to his. She nodded.

“Why I can’t sacrifice my whole career, is that seriously what you want to know?” he continued, going back down the stairs and kneeling before her once more.

“Aren’t these first years of her development as important to you? Isn’t your presence just as necessary?” she asked quietly.

He was finally done with holding back tears. Letting his head hang low, he sobbed.

She let him cry, caressing his curls when he leaned his forehead on her knee.

“Of course it is.” he rasped between sobs. “But I don’t want to lose everything I worked so hard to achieve. Do you think I want to be away from her? From you both? Honestly? Do you think it is an ego thing?”

“Henry, I…” she started, but he interrupted her.

“I’m afraid. Is that what you want to hear? I’m fucking terrified there will be nothing for me if I go back to work years from now. And what terrifies me the most is the possibility of resenting you or Rosie.”

He shook his head and got up, wiping a hand over his face.

“Won’t you resent your career eventually for taking you away from her? From the both of us?” she asked, earnestly.

That gave him pause. He walked back to the couch on the other side of the room and let himself sink down on the leather.

She was right.

He was so focused on the life he could be missing out there, he hadn’t considered what would happen when he took on longer contracts.

Images of Rose’s first birthday flashed in his mind. It hurt imagining being on the other side of the world and missing her second, less than two months away.

The reality was harsh anyway.

“Why is what I do so different from other fathers who work eight or ten hours away, everyday? Or from those who work twelve-hour shifts? I just do that for fewer months.” he complained, reasoning more with himself than with her. “I could audition only for jobs that would keep me closer to home. Or work on only one big production per year.”

He paused, lifting his misty eyes to meet hers after almost boring a hole on the carpet.

“But if you already feel overwhelmed with my short trips, I can’t see how you wouldn’t hate me if I had to be on set for any longer periods of time.”

Taking a tissue from the box she had thankfully brought back from the kitchen, he blew his nose.

“I just need to feel like an adult again. Like I can be more than just a ‘mum’, confined to the limits of these walls and the walk to the nursery or the supermarket.” she paused. “I’m just so tired. So done. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”

“It isn’t.” She rolled her eyes in disbelief, but he insisted. “It really isn’t. I get it. Or, at least, I’m trying to.”

Nodding, she got up and sat next to him on the couch.

“We need help. I don’t want you to feel like this anymore.” he whispered, bringing her closer to his chest and wrapping her in his arms.

“Without bringing a stranger to our home?” she asked, her words muffled into his shirt. “I don’t see how.”

Henry sighed after several minutes in silence, expelling all the negative energy from his body, as he lay his cheek on the crown of her head.

“I will think about this some more during these days we’re away. I’ll talk to my parents as well if that’s okay with you.”

She nodded, humming her approval.

“I’ll do the same from here. I’ll text you if I come up with any good ideas.” she said.

“I’d prefer you to just relax and not worry, but that’s not going to happen, is it?” he asked, smiling.

“Nope.”

He could feel her smile and some of the tension leaving her.

“You know me better than that.” she added.

“I do.” he replied, chuckling, and after a moment added, “Will you talk to me before it gets this bad next time, after we find a solution and if you ever feel like that again, please?”

She pulled away from him slightly, enough to look him in the eyes, and nodded.

He kissed her forehead.

“I already walked Kal.” she said.

“That’s why he’s so quiet.” he replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?”

“If I feel hungry, I’ll make a sandwich. Don’t worry.” she answered and let out a heavy sigh. “I just hope that all of this is going to be worth our while and that she’ll stop biting other children.”

“If she doesn’t, at least I know a psychologist.” he remarked.

He felt her soft laughter, and with a soft click of his tongue, he continued.

“You know what? You should start your relaxing right now. Forget the problems and go find yourself again. Just keep in mind that we love you. I love you very much and I’ll do my best to make things better from now on.”

“Thank you. I’m gonna take you up on that offer.” she said and planted a kiss on his lips. “If I fall asleep and don’t see you off, tell Rosie I love her. Be safe. I love you, too.”

🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟

[transitverse]

Faith (an interlude)

WORDS: 1800 CHAPTERS: 1 CHARACTERS: Zenith, Pox

You have to trust that everything will right itself, one way or another. (Or: Pox and Zenith find a depressing kind of peace in a hotel room.)

Set between chapters 1 and 2 of Long-distance charges, but not mutually required reading.

Soundtrack: take care, lady legs - hyi

The walk back to the hotel is spent in near silence. Even as you climb into the elevator, fly past all of the other arrondissements to your floor, neither of you says a word. Pox clings to your arm, though, her head against your shoulder. It says all that needs to be said.

"What are we gonna tell Tech?"

She poses the question as you're entering the hotel lobby. Dak--you can only assume, having seen neither head nor tail of him, and knowing who he is as a person--is still out at the bar.

"I... I don't know. I don't think I want to tell him anything." Easier said than done. "I don't want to have this conversation yet."

Pox doesn't question it. What she does question--what you both do--is the empty hotel room you arrive back to.

"What the fuck?" Pox stares alongside you at the room; The Nutting Professor is still playing on the TV, for some goddamn reason, and Tech's robes are laid out on the bed, but the man himself is nowhere to be seen. She opens the bathroom door, and--"What the fuck?"

"What?"

"'WENT WITH GUY, BRB .'" You poke your head into the door to see what in God's name she's talking about, and, yep, there it is: "WENT WITH GUY, BRB," smeared across the mirror in soap.

 "What the fuck?" Your immediate instinct is to fire off a message asking where he is. He's probably not dead. Probably. If he was in trouble, he'd let you know. You think. You hope.

"He's... fine, probably. Look, I'll ask him." You send the message, just for peace of mind. Pox's danger sense would flare up if he was in harm's way, too, right? Yeah, sure. So he's good. It’s hard to think about this with the sound of nasty sex going on in the background. "Okay, Jesus, I need to turn off that fucking porno before I lose my mind."

Switching the channel to something mundane and boring but at-least-not-sexually-graphic takes all of about three seconds, at which point you've already claimed a bed and thrown yourself down on it. Pox sheds her coat, crawls up beside you and half-drapes herself across your body, her head tucked into the crook of your neck. It's a little more than what you're used to, even from her, but tonight, you're glad for it. You let your head fall against hers. She nuzzles into you gently.

"It's gonna be okay, you know," she says, after a little while, so matter-of-factly you feel like you almost have to believe her.

"Yeah." You press your face into her hair slightly, eyes drifting shut for a moment. A nauseous feeling has settled itself in the pit of your stomach and hasn't left since you walked into that godforsaken shop.

"It was Aubrey you called earlier, right?"

"Mhm."

"Did she say anything?"

"She said she knew about this. About how they wipe our minds if we get too fucked up to be useful anymore. But that was it. She never knew-- doesn’t know any more than I do."

Pox shifts slightly, adjusting her position in a way that makes her hair tickle your neck. "Anything else?"

"...She said it'll be okay." Conveniently ignoring that you left out that you-- No, you don't even want to think about it. But you told her everything else. "She said I've been through worse. And, like, I guess I have, but I don't know how useful that is when I can't remember most of it to put it in context." You take in a slow, measured breath and exhale. "But she said I’ll be fine, because I have people to look after me. As long as I... let them look after me."

You can't stop thinking about that. You think back to your conversations out on the balcony, too, barely a day ago. It wasn’t a request, was it? It was a warning. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

"So let us look after you." Pox pulls idly at one of the tags on your jacket. "We're going to get this fixed. And then you can do whatever you want about… finding them."

Mm. The delicate matter of what you want to do about the organisation responsible for the way your life played out. After all this, you're still wanting for answers; that much you know, and you're still going to get them. After that... somewhere, under the nausea, under the fear, under the uncertainty and regret and apprehension, anger is already flaring to life. They took everything you could have had in life. Promises be damned; you have your own reasons for wanting to burn them to the ground.

But right now, you have more difficult issues to grapple with: not what they did, but what you did. Ten rounds out in battlefields you barely remember. All those visions and dreams of dead bodies that now feel so, so much more real. You think of what Aubrey said about bombs and fire and killing; about it all being twisted into some kind of sick game. The cold, hard truth has been thrust in your face, and there's no way you can turn a blind eye to it anymore. No more pretending. No more burying. No more mental gymnastics in search of an explanation to extricate yourself from deeds you’ve quietly suspected for a long time that you might have participated in.

You have to face this head-on. Stare it down. You can't change it. Your only choice is in how you respond to it.

"You're brilliant, you know," Pox continues, quietly, after a moment, drawing you out of your own head. "Whatever they say about you. They don't really know you."

 "I feel like I don't even know me right now."

"I know you." She turns her head up to you, silver eyes wide in the low light. "I know you're not weak. And Dak knows you, and Tech knows you, and they don't think you're weak. Not how these--this--some big creepy fucking corporation thinks you are. Whatever they think is bullshit, okay? They don't care about you. They think you're weak because they didn't want you to care about things. But you do. That's what makes you better than them.”

All you can do is... stare, wordless. You manage a nod. Even if you had the energy, you wouldn't argue with her. There's no point. She's an immovable object when she's made up her mind about something.

Besides: you know, somewhere, deep down, that there's truth in what she says.

"I-- Yeah. Yeah. I know. It's just-- This is--" You keep stumbling and tripping in the process of trying to form a coherent sentence, but Pox understands without having to hear it aloud.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow." You heave a deep sigh and let your eyes slip shut for a moment as she settles back against your chest. How you're supposed to sleep tonight, you have no idea. At times like this, it'd be handy if you could switch your brain off as easily as you can your complete cybernetics. Emotional burnout has never hit so hard so fast. For now, you need to do what you've become so good at doing over the years: compartmentalise. Box this up and set it aside. There will be time to address it all. The time is not now, but it will come. When you've slept. When this death race is over. When you've left Fyre Tower in the rear-view mirror and you can all look towards the future with clear heads and fresh eyes.

"Did Tech answer yet?"

You glance down at Pox with your left eye. Your AR feed is clear.

"No. You'd get the creeps if something was up, though, right?"

"Not if he's miles away!"

"I mean, he said he'd be back! He'll be fine. I... I think I trust him. Anyway, you saw how he was earlier. I don't think we should go looking for him. I think he wants to be left alone right now."

Pox is silent. She lays her head back down on your shoulder, fingers fiddling with your shirt this time.

"I just want everyone to be happy," she says, eventually, just above a whisper. "With Tech, earlier, and Dak--and now you, and-- Everything keeps getting fucked up, and I don't know what to do."

Your immediate response is to slip an arm around her shoulders and pull her closer into your side. You forget how tiny she really is without that coat on and a thousand mystery objects padding it out. She turns her face into your neck and you rest your head atop hers, chin sinking into stark white curls.

 "You're doing fine, Pox." You feel her hand under your jacket, sliding all the way around you, clinging to you. "You're here. You're doing everything you can. That's more than enough." You pause, and then, because you realise you never said it earlier: “Thank you.”

She doesn't answer, or move, or respond in any way that you can tell. You keep hold of her anyway. God, you hope Dak doesn't come barging in, drunk off his ass right now. You kind of hope Tech doesn't, either, sober or not, though either way (and no matter his substance of choice) he'd be more manageable than Dak.

You find yourself curling a lock of Pox’s hair around your fingers as you lay there with her, tuning out the late-night reruns of shitty trid shows in the background. With that gone and your own woes packed away for the time being, you're left with a completely clear head for the first time in... well, probably the last two weeks. It's refreshing. You bask in the tranquillity of it for a little while. God only knows when you'll get another moment to do so.

Seeing perhaps your only window of opportunity in which to fall asleep, your brain seizes the chance and before you know it, you’re dozing off. You're vaguely aware, at some point, of switching off the TV. With the room now silent, and Pox a comforting dead weight on your side, drifting back off right where you lie comes easy.

Maybe when you wake up, everything will make more sense. Maybe the world will have fixed itself: Tech will be back, unharmed, happy. So will Dak. Your little visit to Sons of Adam will have been one big mix-up and you won’t be hurtling towards an uncertain death at a hundred miles per hour. Pox won’t need to feel guilty and helpless about problems far beyond her control.

Maybe none of it will be fixed at all.

You’ll just have to hold on tight,

Wait,

And see.

[missroserose]

Sleepover

A snippet from my Harringrove WiP.  Because some things can only be said in the dark.

Billy’s heard the term seasonal depression, maybe on TV somewhere, and he wonders if that’s what’s eating at Neil.  The lack of light and the cold and the claustrophobia of being stuck in a house with a disrespectful son and a defiant stepdaughter, painted in bruises and blood on the canvas of Billy’s skin. 

God, he misses California.

California.  Where he could disappear for long stretches, sleeping on friends’ floors.  Where he knew where to get good weed, a reliable if temporary escape.  Where his anger wasn’t quite so constantly simmering under the surface.  Where he could hitchhike or bum a ride to the beach and spend his afternoons bodysurfing.  Where the sun was a constant, gentle caress to his skin, his occasional bruises and—

No.  He flips over onto his side, trying to find a position on the couch that doesn’t aggravate his tender ribs.  He is not going to cry, not here.  Not with Steve Harrington—someone who has every reason to hate him, who might only be tolerating him long enough to find a weakness to exploit—just upstairs.  Not with his father’s words—burnout, fuckup, faggot—still ringing in his ears.

He’s managed to find an awkward angle that’s just unpainful enough to sink into a doze when, minutes or hours later, he hears the faucet running from the kitchen nearby.  He sits up as Steve pads out of the doorway.

“Sorry, man,” Steve whispers.  “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Billy blinks, the front-facing parts of his brain feeling muzzy even as the back part of his mind races.  As if it ever stops.  “Steve?  What time’s’t?”

“Like three in the morning.  Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t sleep.”  Billy falls back on the couch with a groan that quickly turns all too real.

To his surprise, Steve comes over, perches on the arm of the sofa, glass of water held in one hand.  “Me neither.”

Billy gives a little laugh, his eyes mostly closed.  “Whatsa matter, pretty boy?  Closet monster breathing down your neck?”

“Something like that.”  A pause, and then, “The pool is right outside my bedroom window.”

Billy’s half-asleep brain takes a moment to try and stitch together meaning from the non sequitur.  “Isn’t it dry right now?  Covered?”

“Weirdly, that just makes it worse.”  A motion in the dark, Steve shaking his head.  “When it’s covered, anything could be hiding in it.”  A beat.  “Or growing.”

It’s not the unlikelihood, the sheer juvenile pathos of the assertion—closet monsters and pool monsters, what are we, twelve?—that makes Billy groan and sit up.  No, it’s something in Steve’s voice, in the way his voice cracks, that paints a such vivid picture in Billy’s mind that he has to move, shake it off like a bad dream, unwanted telepathy.  He roots for a moment in his pants, comes out with a cigarette lighter and a half-crushed pack of Reds, lights up, tosses the lighter back towards the pile of clothing on the floor.  He almost does the same with the pack, but after a moment’s hesitation, he offers it to Steve, who takes one, fiddles with it.

“It’s just a hole in the ground, man.  Nothing to be afraid of.”  Billy talks around the cigarette in his mouth, letting the carelessness of his voice slide its way into the easy dark.

Steve doesn’t answer, but he slides down onto the couch next to Billy, still rolling the cigarette between his fingers like he thinks it’s a fine Cuban cigar or some shit.  After a moment, Billy loses patience, takes it from him, presses the end to his lit cigarette, and hands it back.  

The cherry on the end highlights the slight tremor in Steve’s hands as he raises the cigarette to his lips; the brightening color tells Billy when he takes a drag.  But it’s the choking sound, followed by a flurry of coughs, that has him grinning into the dark.  “Shit, you’re telling me the King of Hawkins doesn’t smoke?  Not even a cigarette behind his grandpa’s shed, or whatever you hicks do on summer afternoons?”

“I never—”  Steve’s voice is sandpaper-rough, and he has to stop and cough a little more to clear his throat.  “Never got the taste for it,” he continues, still a little strained.

“Guess I get to be the big-city boy, corrupting you with my licentious ways.”  It’s dark, but Billy suspects Steve can hear the leer in his voice.  “Has anyone introduced you to this new idea called ‘kissing’ yet?”

“Shut up.  Unless you’re planning a practical demonstration.”  Billy’s heart flip-flops at that, and he’s suddenly glad for the cover of darkness.  

“Sorry, big guy, but I don’t do families.  And your mom was begging me for it last night.”

“Asshole.”  The word is the same, but it’s devoid of its usual contempt.  “My mom was with my dad last night.”

Billy leans into the opening.  “Who’s to say I wasn’t there for both of them?”  He half-wishes there was more light in the room, imagining the effect a good tongue-waggle would have on the other boy.  “I’m a busy guy, there’s a lot of demand for my services…”

Steve is half-laughing, half-coughing in a way that tells Billy he’s been trying to take another drag at the cigarette.  What he’s not doing, anymore, is shaking.  Not that Billy’s noticing.  “Fuck, man, you seem to think Hawkins is a lot more progressive than it is.”

Billy half-turns on the sofa, makes out just the outline of Steve’s face, turned toward him.  “Let me tell you something, pretty boy.”  He leans toward Steve, lowers his voice, confidential.  “Anywhere that’s this obsessed with keeping up appearances?  Has to have some pretty goddamn weird shit happening below the surface.”

“Like dads who beat up their kids?”  The words drop into the air, bright-jeweled beetles tumbling into Billy’s stomach.

There’s a pause as Billy feels the rush of adrenaline, freezes momentarily.  His instinct is to lash out, to fight back; he can feel his fingers curling into a fist, next to him on the sofa.  

But this is Harrington.  The kid with the prettiest face and most ridiculous hair in a hundred miles.  The deposed King.  Nobody’s going to care what he has to say, least of all about Billy’s family.

He pulls away, takes a drag on the cigarette, assessing as he blows the stream of smoke into the dark.  Then, his voice cool, “If you think that’s anything unusual, pretty boy, you’re even more innocent than I thought.”

“Maybe not unusual.  But it’s wrong.”  Harrington must have a death wish, because his fingers are reaching out and brushing Billy’s split lip with the gentlest of caresses.  “Even when it’s you.”  Those fingers, tracing along Billy’s jaw and up along the side of his face.  “Especially when it’s you.”

“You don’t know me.”  Billy’s clearly smoked his cigarette too fast, that must be where the sudden roughness in his voice comes from.  “If you think I don’t deserve it—”

“Who said anything about deserve?”  Steve laughs a little.  “Look at yourself sometime.  You’re a goddamn work of art.”

Something in that soothes Billy’s hackles a little bit.  Sure, if he let himself think about how this is Steve Harrington caressing him and telling him he’s pretty, he’d probably be weirded out by the situation, but being admired is familiar.  Safer.  “‘Work’ is right, pretty boy.  Not all of us are gifted with a naturally pretty face.”

Steve laughs a little at that.  “With those arms?  I figure you have to be working at it.”  His hand traces down the side of Billy’s neck, cups a bicep in a distinctly familiar way.

“Harrington—”  Billy’s fighting, because that’s what he does.  Because they’re alone, and it’s dark, and Steve’s fingers feel cool and soothing and good.  “I swear to God, if you’re putting me on—”

And then the fingers are tracing up along his shoulder, down his chest, making him shiver.  “I mean, have you seen your pecs?”  Steve goes on, as if Billy hasn’t said anything at all.  “Your six-pack?  I could work out for months and my abs would never look this good.”

Billy winces and tries not to hiss as the fingers trace over a fresh bruise, as Steve’s fingers call up answering sensations deep in his gut.  “You know I do it just for you, pretty boy,” he says, hoping it sounds as dismissive as he wants it to.

The fingers still, and he glances up to catch Steve’s eyes, just barely visible in the dark.  “Do you?”  A swallow, a glance down, and then back up.  “Just for me?”

[tilliwriteapine]

I’m a cancer nurse for so many reasons. When people ask me why the hell I would want to work with a depressing patient population, I give them this look of “are you insulting my patients?!” because sure, it can get depressing. My last shift was difficult because while we worked hard to put a patient into long-term remission from multiple myeloma, the body betrayed them, locking them into their mind for probably the rest of their life, thanks to a shitty virus. And yeah, I’ve taken care of patients who just couldn’t beat their cancer, and patients who expressed the desire to stop treatment and go home and die. And I’ve worked with patients who we got into remission, and they died because we killed a vital organ (usually the kidneys. KIDNEYS ARE IMPORTANT!)

But I work with cancer patients because it’s so fulfilling. The work being done to find better treatments, manage side effects, and ultimately cure the disease is always advancing and changing for the better.

There is no conspiracy behind cancer treatment. Is it expensive, and wrongly so? You bet. Is it insane? So much. But I’ve worked with two amazing hospitals striving for a cure, and if there was a cure, we would all drop our stethoscopes in an instant to find another disease to tackle. Hell, we can use bone marrow transplants to help prolong remission in multiple sclerosis! (New and trending, principle investigator one of my most amazing, brilliant doctors, Dr. Richard Nash!!)

There is NO fucking pharmaceutical company hiding the cure to cancer, and no country hiding the cure to cancer. Cancer is MANY different diseases, and one cure will never work for them all. Marijuana is not all around cure. Neither are essential oils, aromatherapy, chiropractic practices, and other holistic treatments. Many of these COMPLEMENT actual proven cancer treatment. Essential oils can help with side effects from chemo. Massage is actually prescribed to all of my patients, which can help with neuropathy and pain, and relaxation. Yoga is good! Exercise is brilliant!!! EAT, DRINK, WALK, SHOWER! That is what I tell all of my patients at the beginning of their cancer journey (or in this case, stem cell transplant journey. 95% of the patients I interact with every day have been dealing with cancer and treatments for at least six months. We occasionally see new diagnosis, but that’s the main oncology floor.)

Anyway - I work with some of the best patients on the planet. It isn’t easy. And today I had to keep myself from crying because of the hard shift I dealt with Saturday into Sunday. My job can be very rewarding, but also very disheartening. I don’t regret it in the least. I have some signs of burnout and emotional changes, but I still definitely love my job. 

Wherever this was going - ya know, more power to the cancer patient <3

[enouragement-blog]

This time... no, this time!

I had really done it this time. I was so burned out from the trials of being a pastor that I had kinda just backed off in total. I wasn’t reading my bible or praying, really trying to just pull away from ministry and people, and spending most of my focus combating panic attacks and depression. I knew I needed to refresh myself in God’s presence, but I was delaying it. I didn’t want Him to tell me to start focusing on ministry again. I didn’t want to draw close to Him because I didn’t want to have to change and face my demons. This went on for quite a while. It was a stale mate. Part of me wanted to seek God more, and I felt guilty for not, but another part of me was so done with the constant disappointments and difficulties. I didn’t want any of it. I just wanted to be someone else that was somewhere else. That’s a great thing for the associate pastor who is also the worship leader to feel (sarcasm). Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and it seemed like no matter what, even if I did work up the courage for that day, I was facing a slow and steady decline, much like the Roman Empire. God had been using me, I was hearing from Him, and I did the right thing at the time. But that was then, and this was now. The situation had been one giant cluster-cuss, and the hurt kept pushing me further and further - and I let it. I didn’t do anything to stop it, and honestly, I didn’t want to. If you’ve been in ministry OR are a Christian, you probably know what I’m talking about.

But then I felt God calling stronger and stronger. Evidently He was not content with me soaking in self-sorrow and pain. Yea, the situation sucked. But that was not the end of my story nor was it the end of my ministry, and most importantly, it wasn’t the end of my spiritual growth. Past the pride of self and past the hurt and bitterness towards others, God wasn’t done in me. So I took a small step, I read A chapter of the bible. That may not seem big, but it was. God showed me all kinds of things,but I stopped reading almost as soon as I started. Another couple weeks past and the same thing happened again. I started again, but in a different book. I didn’t want to read the bible, as though I was bored of it, but I also did want to read the bible, but I didn’t know where to start. This time, I stuck with it. In the days leading up to sticking with it, I had read a few verses here and there, and had started a bible study in a certain book in the New Testament. This forced me to, at least once a week, pick up my bible. And evidently it did work in part. Seeking God is the process where God seeks you, and you seek Him, to the extent that you don’t know who started seeking who first. So I started reading just a little bit and stuck with it all of two days. The night of the second day, I had to lead worship for a service. During the worship I said something along the lines of “I want more of You, God” in my heart. As soon as the worship was over, someone gave a word along the lines of “I have heard you ask for me of me, and I will answer and give you even more than you asked for”. Just like that. There was no long, drawn out spiel about how I had been unfaithful, or I messed up, or anything else. God just let it go, answered me, and that was that. I was instantly relieved, but also there was a part of me that said “there, you made God happy, so now you can just relax and drop the whole thing”.

I don’t understand God a lot of times. Why wouldn’t He rub it in, or demand that I prove my penitence? Why did He answer and encourage me, when He knew the thoughts of my heart, and how I would instantly want to back off - when He answered me how I myself asked? He knows I’m going to mess up in the future, yet He still forgives me when I ask now. That doesn’t make sense. When my kids do something, I can’t just drop it, because they need to learn their lesson. Yet God had every reason to prove a point - He had the high ground in our disagreement! - but He just let it go. The problem with focusing too much on God’s wrath and judgment is that it is not the FULL picture of who God is. I’ve been a Christian a long time, and I’ve been in church even longer - I know better. I’ve read enough books to know what to do when I face disappointment, burnout, and other things. Yet I didn’t want to fix the situation. I just wanted to leave it alone and move on. What do I have to do for God to finally give up on me and say “That’s quite enough out of you - you’ve messed up too many times”? Maybe this is what Paul felt when he wrote Romans 8:38-39: “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord”. Maybe we need to re-evaluate how we lead, how we parent, how we love, how we serve, and how we live.

[personalcoachingcenter]

Research Paper: Maternal Burnout and Transcending Boundaries

New Post has been published on https://personalcoachingcenter.com/research-paper-maternal-burnout-and-transcending-boundaries/

Research Paper: Maternal Burnout and Transcending Boundaries

Research Paper By K.Mariam Jafri (Parenting Coach, INDIA)

Before becoming a parent, it’s hard to imagine just how much of paradox motherhood can be. You’ll be the happiest, and saddest you’ve ever been, you’ll be elated, infuriated, and peaceful; and that’s all before breakfast! Kear Murphy (Clinical Psychologist, mother of three)

Motherhood is an emotional roller-coaster that comes without an instruction manual. Very few women would count the physiological discomfort of pregnancy and childbirth as the most challenging part of motherhood. It is mostly what follows after; the dedication required to fulfill every need of the child, juggling with constant criticism and expectations that the society throws at you, dealing with an identity crisis, judgments, and to continue being a partner, an employee, a friend and everything else. I have met many mothers from different parts of the world. What surprises me is how little difference there is in their experience of motherhood regardless of their culture, faith, level of education, and what part of the world they come from.

I knew parental burnout was a reality, but to what extent did it affect women who happen to be the primary caregivers universally? I set out to discern this phenomenon by talking to 20 mothers from 20 different countries (from Europe, North America, Asia, and Africa). I designed a short questionnaire focusing on how women experienced motherhood, if they had ever felt burnt out and why the challenges they face, and the support they think they need.

The phenomenon of burnout refers to a specific syndrome of exhaustion related to prolonged situations of emotional imbalance, where the burden of perceived stress exceeds personal resources to cope with it. Furthermore, parental burnout is defined as exhaustion occurring as a result of being physically and emotionally overwhelmed by one’s parental role. Since my paper was focused on mothers, I prefer to call this ‘maternal burnout’.

Out of the 20 mothers I interviewed, 15 are professionally engaged. All of them have multiple children, ages of children ranging from newborn to 21 years. They all have partners and come from financially comfortable homes. Most names have been changed as the majority of the mothers preferred to stay anonymous.

The starting of this research coincided with the global lockdown of 2020. All the mothers were struggling to cope with this unprecedented situation, working harder than ever before and dealing with unforeseen challenges daily. I am extremely grateful to each one of them for investing their precious time in my research.

The Complicated Emotions of Motherhood

Whether your pregnancy was meticulously planned, medically coaxed, or happened by surprise, one thing is certain – your life will never be the same. Catherine Jones, Welsh actress, and mother of two

What are the most prominent emotions felt by mothers? The first words mentioned were love, happiness, and gratitude, and then; exhaustion, frustration, guilt, fear, and anxiety. The words happiness, love, and gratitude were mentioned 29 times, while the latter 45 times!

While motherhood can be joyous and fulfilling, it can also be emotionally and physically draining.

I was always stressed in the first years with my children because I felt I was not doing enough. Instead of accepting that I was tired, I kept pushing myself to do more and more. I put myself under so much pressure that I did not enjoy being a mother. Anonymous, Italy

I mostly have regrets. I am a working mother and I cannot spend most of the time with my children. I feel sad that I miss their special moments. They have a better relationship with their nanny than with me. It makes me sad and it also makes me angry. – Anonymous, Turkey 

From what I observed, mothers were not having an easy time parenting. Was it their fault, or were their partners not supportive enough or was the society failing them?  Or was it all of the above?

What is Stressful about Motherhood?

My biggest challenge every day is to be a great mother and a great businesswoman. Tory Burch, businesswoman and a mother of three.

Expectations – From Self and Others: They were all trying to be the perfect mother through multi-tasking and trying to achieve a work-life balance with limited time and unlimited responsibilities. This came at the cost of neglecting their own basic needs of nutrition and adequate rest which eventually led to mental and physical stress.

Expectations from ourselves, from those around us and the society in general; the biggest problem is that a mother wants to be everything. Anonymous, Austria

The children have so many needs that I find it impossible to fulfill them. It’s very stressful. – Anonymous, Egypt 

Self-Doubt and Fear: I found many mothers doubting their parenting style and decisions. The fear of failing as a mother seemed to be another underlying cause of the stress that women subjected themselves to. This often led to feelings of unreasonable guilt and frustration. The fear of something unfortunate happening to the children seemed to be deeply rooted in most of the mothers I interviewed.

Will they be treated unfairly because they are girls? – Anonymous, Italy 

I worry a lot! Am I screwing them up by doing or not doing something? I worry about whether I keep them safe; from others, themselves, and this mad world. I worry about whether they will make it on their own as adults or if they’ll flounder and wind up on the streets as homeless people.  Just worry!- Debbie, USA

Isolation: I, personally have never felt more isolated in my life (despite living in my own city) than I did in the first two years of being a mother. None of my other friends had children. I stopped relating to my childhood best friends because I felt they did not understand me. And these were the people I was closest to.

It can be very isolating. People should support mothers instead of telling them what to do.  It’s the structural problem of the society. – Anonymous, India 

Lack of Time and Support: Striving to find time for everything important, from child care and career to social commitments and household responsibilities, often results in frustration and exhaustion. All the mothers complained of not resting enough.

There just never seems to be enough hours in the day! Hamida, Wales 

I don’t sleep enough and that exhausts me and amplifies the stress. Anonymous, Ivory Coast

Household Responsibilities: Parenting is a 24×7 job, yet women are expected to somehow continue managing the household. Less than 50% of women could rely on their husbands for support.

My husband told me that I am only a good mother. Neither am I a good wife nor a good house manager. It is said that there is no appreciation for what you give to your children. Anonymous, Turkey

Running around is exhausting! When I’m exhausted; I’m less patient, less of a good listener, just less! We turn into doers – do your homework, do your extracurricular, clean up your room, take a shower, go to bed. That’s not parenting; that’s being a warden. I don’t like that! It becomes stressful because I want them to feel loved, cared for and special – not like little prisoners. Debbie, USA

How Common are Burnouts among Mothers?

Burnout is a bone-tired, soul-tired, heart-tired kind of exhaustion. Pennebaker, American Social-Psychologist

16 out of 20 mothers (80%) experienced burnout at some stage of parenting. 13 of them felt it was completely from parenting whereas, for others, the burnout happened as a result of other factors as well.

According to recent research published inwww.dailyvoice.com ( an Americanhyperlocal news site), the root cause of parental burnout is an imbalance between the demands and rewards of parenting.

Burnouts have become a part of my life. – Carmen, Germany

Neil D. Brown (LCSW) in his book ‘Ending the Parent-Teen Control Battle’ says, “Parental burnout is a state of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. It leaves parents feeling chronically fatigued, often experiencing sleep and concentration problems which can lead to depression, chronic anxiety and illness.”

What Does Maternal Burnout Feel Like?

When you become a mother, you are no longer the center of your own universe. You relinquish that position to your children. Jessica Lange, American actress, and mother of three.

From crying incessantly to emotional eating, from fearing that they will never be able to sleep again to reach a point where they felt they couldn’t offer anything to anyone anymore, mothers have battled these emotions and experiences without even acknowledging them.

While one respondent suspected her hormones to be the cause of these feelings and consulted a gynecologist for her condition, another participant went to a psychologist assuming the problem was in her mind. A third mother figured out her condition much later after discussing it with a friend.

I reached the break down point where I had to be hospitalized and have blood transfusions. My body lacked nutrients, I wasn’t eating well but I kept ignoring my needs because I was only consumed with the idea that I wasn’t doing enough for my family.  Anonymous, Egypt

Cooking is considered the purest form of expressing love in our culture. I realized how exhausted I was when I didn’t even have the energy to cook for my family. Anonymous, Japan 

I feel exhausted and start losing my temper. Anonymous, China

Other common feelings and experiences that the mothers shared were; feeling irritable and demotivated, unable to enjoy life, falling sick often, rapid weight loss/gain, and living with the feeling that irrespective of how much they do, it’s just never enough!

The Truth Behind Maternal Burnouts

Having children just puts the whole world into perspective. Everything else just disappears. Kate Winslet, a British actress, and mother of three.

Lack of Support: The unfortunate truth is that parenting is largely considered to be a woman’s job.  Motherhood in itself is not tiring, having to parent alone is. The most common reason for burnout among mothers was lack of support and empathy first and foremost by the family (partner and other family members).  9 out of 20, i.e. less than half the mothers, said they could count on their husbands for support. The partners either had very long working hours or did not offer support even when they had time. These partners have assumed the traditional role of contributing by bringing money home. However, 15 out of the 20 mothers I interviewed were professionally working mothers. This implies that even when the finances were shared, parenting responsibilities weren’t.

I wonder if it was me who started parenting alone or was I simply never offered any support. – Anonymous, Egypt

If you don’t have emotional support from your husband, you will burn out. I had to go to a psychiatrist to be sure of my stand. I was so lost. I could not think logically. No one understood my feelings. People told me that since I had two beautiful boys, what more could I possibly want? Anonymous, Turkey 

Maternal Guilt: The website www.healthline.com defines maternal guilt as “that pervasive feeling of not doing enough as a parent, not doing things right, or making decisions that may ‘mess up’ your kids in the long run”.  Its universality is apparent since it’s felt by both working and stay at home mothers.

A mother’s guilt is a trap that women unknowingly fall into. Unfulfilled expectations lead to guilt and frustration. These expectations could either come from within or outside i.e. family or society. Motherhood is glorified to such an extent that it tends to dehumanize women. Not sleeping for several nights, forgetting to eat, inability to take time out for social interaction, and self-care are unfortunately considered as a part and parcel of parenting for women.  Yet many mothers worry and doubt themselves; “am I good enough?” or “what if everything that I am doing is wrong?”

My expectations towards myself make life as a mother challenging sometimes. I want to give each child-specific attention depending on their individual needs; quality time, affirmations, physical touch, acts of service or gifts and that is not always easy. Anonymous, Switzerland

I feel disappointment and guilt when I see my children misbehaving and being unkind. I feel it’s because I was working full time up until one year back that might have caused these issues. Anonymous, Sri Lanka

If the mother works in a professional role, she will feel she doesn’t spend enough time with her family. But the stay-at-home mums feel they are not appreciated because there is no recognition for the work they do at home. Anonymous, France

Psychotherapist and author, Hilary Jacobs Hendel refers to guilt as an inhibitory emotion that blocks our core emotions. In her book ‘It’s Not Always Depression’, she writes: “Consistently prioritizing the needs of others is not good for our mental health, nor is it good for our relationships, as it breeds resentment.”

Life with Newborns: Many mothers felt high levels of stress while caring for newborns, especially with their first child. Dr. Benjamin Spock, an American pediatrician whose book ‘Baby and Child Care’ is one of the bestselling volumes in history wrote, “She (the mother) has been through an intense physical change. If it’s her first baby, she can’t help feeling anxious. Any baby will make great demands on her strength and spirit at first. Most women need a great deal of support from their partners at this time. They need help with the care of the baby and any other children, and with housework. Even more, they need patience, understanding, appreciation, and affection.”

“Dr. John Gottman, University of Washington, has spent years studying marriage. He has found that 40-70% of all couples experience stress, conflict, and a drop in satisfaction with their relationship when a baby comes home. Why? Well, moms often provide most of the hands-on care for infants, including nursing the baby, walking the floor when he cries and getting up several times during the night. A new mother may experience postpartum depression and may have little energy for fun with her dad. Fathers, on the other hand, often report feeling excluded by the mother-and-baby duo and may find other ways of occupying themselves while their child is young. Sometimes the patterns that form during a child’s early years are difficult to change as that child grows.” – A Conscious Parent’s Guide to Raising Boys- Cheryl L. Erwin and Jennifer Costa

Postpartum was a challenge as I had to tie some loose ends at work while also recovering and caring for a newborn. Anonymous, Lebanon 

I never rested even when I should have because my inner voice was telling me that mothers don’t rest. Anonymous, Italy

Balancing Household and Professional Duties: Double responsibilities imply a double amount of stress. A mother confessed she regretted working because she neither liked her work nor was she comfortable leaving her children in other people’s care. The world calls them ‘supermoms’ or ‘superwomen’, thereby acknowledging that no normal human being is capable of managing everything that is expected from a working mother.

Society’s idea of a supermom!

Seeing myself failing professionally gives me maximum anxiety. Anonymous, Ivory Coast 

I manage everything on my own; the kids, the house, my work, drop off, pick-ups, doctors, etc. In French, it’s called, ‘la charge mentale’ or the mental load! Anonymous, France 

I grew up in the countryside but now our lifestyle is very city-based. To make up for that, we have enrolled them in several activities. It gets a bit stressful. I feel like a taxi service a lot of times. Anonymous, Scotland

Sickness: When the mother is already overworked, a child’s sickness can take a toll on her health. Not only do sick children need visits to the doctor but also extra attention and care. Mothers often spend sleepless nights caring for their young ones. Saba, a mother from Pakistan, reported that she often fell sick by the time her kids recovered; from the stress and from completely ignoring her needs.

When Children are Dealing with Stress: “Emotional and situational challenges that affect my child also take an emotional toll on me because I am so connected with my kids. So it’s not just one thing – it’s a collection of reasons that leads to parental burnout.”- Debbie, USA

Having to Parent Alone: In many cases, the partner was either traveling frequently for work or was working in another country.

My husband was away for work and I was parenting my kids alone in a foreign country. Balancing chores and deadlines was so stressful that I felt I couldn’t take it anymore. Anonymous, Afghanistan  

There are no parenting books on living in a pandemic. I had to move to my country without my husband and now I am the only one responsible for the children. – Anonymous, Turkey

The Support Mothers Have:

Only 31% of mothers said they could count on their partners for support. Talking to friends and other family members were the next best option for most women.

Relying on oneself through exercise, rest, and scaling back is quite uncommon as was reaching out to professionals such as psychotherapists, coaches, and counselors.

The Support Mothers Wished They Had:

You are in a much better position to serve others when your basic needs are met and your tank is full. Michael Hyatt, Author 

Professional Help: Individual/couple counseling to strengthen the relationship between partners and with children to deal with stress and burnouts, coaching and free online counseling, expert childcare and helplines to deal with stressed out and anxious mothers are some of the ways mothers thought families could be supported professionally.

Norman Gabriel in his book, The Sociology of Early Childhood, writes, “With the growing trend towards more men and women employed full-time in the workforce, a range of professionals have to be employed to care for many of our young children.”

Support from the Workplace: 75% of the mothers I surveyed worked full time professionally and felt that maternity leave and flexible work hours could help ease their pressure to a great extent.

Informal Support Groups:  These can create opportunities for child support,  catering to individual needs. Mothers and children with specific issues need more structured support. One mother shared her experience with churches in England where exchange evenings were organized for parents to share common challenges and they proved to be very beneficial.

I wish there was a trustworthy daycare where I could send my children for some time.  I had to devote myself completely to my children and had no time for myself. Anonymous, Korea

An Empathetic Society: Parenting can be isolating. Awareness of issues like Postpartum Depression and maternal burnout could make it easy for women to reach out for help. Most importantly, we need a society that is empathetic towards mothers and does not judge them. An article on ‘Identifying Signs and Symptoms of Parental Burnout’ published by www.daily.com affirms; “there’s a stigma associated with parental burnout. As a result, parents hide what they’re going through, and don’t reach out for practical and emotional support”.

Family Friendly Public Spaces: Affordable public places where families can relax and children have the freedom to run around, without parents having to worry about their safety.

People should realize that kids are occasionally frustrating. Having time to do things apart from parenting, going in a different environment where people don’t interact with you as parents can be good ways to decompress for mothers. Julia, England

How Can Coaching Help Mothers Manage Burnouts?

Surround yourself only with people who are going to take you higher. Oprah Winfrey

The inspiration for this research came from the regrets I accumulated over the years as a mother. “I wish I knew then” came to define the subsequent stage of motherhood where I felt in better control of my time and emotions and more accepting of a flawed version of myself. I never understood why motherhood was glorified. I assume that it is society’s way to prepare women to make every sacrifice that may come in their way and put themselves last, with a smile and without complaints.

Since my coaching niche is parenting, I decided to dedicate my research paper to understand motherhood across cultures and geographical boundaries. Irrespective of differences, the struggle for mothers is the same universally. It is largely related to navigating with emotions such as fear, loneliness, and guilt, managing expectations, balancing life and work, and believing in themselves.

There is clearly a dire need for support and compassion for mothers, irrespective of the background they come from. Unfortunately, very few mothers find this support when they are at their most vulnerable. In many cases, what follows is burn out. Some of the respondents took years to recover, while others have been unable to break the cycle.

To be able to raise little humans, a mother needs to prioritize her own well-being. I believe that coaching can be an excellent service for mothers who are looking at making crucial life decisions, are struggling with parenting, or even trying to rediscover themselves. Mothers want to be heard, understood, and accepted. This is the space that coaching can offer, to listen without judgments and assumptions. Since every mother and her journey is unique, a coach can provide the right tools and resources suitable for her. A professional coach is sensitive to different cultures and contexts, to values and underlying beliefs, and can motivate the client by sharing appropriate intuitions and observations.  Coaching could enable client mothers to create structures and frameworks that would support them in creating sustainable change. By offering unconditional positive regard and asking powerful questions, the coach can change disempowering feelings to empowering ones. Coaching can help mothers focus attention on themselves because unless their own cup is full, they cannot pour into others.

Parenting is a journey that no mother should have to suffer. However, a mother can only have healthy relationships with her children when she has one with herself. The safety guidelines in flights always instruct us to help ourselves first before we help others, including our children.

I do hope that the findings of this paper will help me and other coaches facilitate a helpful and rewarding journey for mothers through their difficult times.

References:

Original source: https://coachcampus.com/coach-portfolios/research-papers/k-mariam-jafri-maternal-burnout-transcending-boundaries/