#got so fucking sick i was bedridden for three months and lost my job

[bosspigeon]

so i havent done anything worthwhile creatively speaking (sorry) but i did make a sims sideblog so i could ramble about my not so berry challenge without being annoying here

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Forgive Yourself

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan

Word Count: 1,276

Warnings: angst, depression, reader’s mom just died, blaming oneself

Summary: Ever since your mother died, you’ve been a hermit in your own apartment, not leaving it for anything.  Spencer wants to change that.

Author’s Note: This is the July 14th fic “Blue Skies” for the 30 Day Writing Challenge. If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

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The past three months have been literal hell for you. Hotch was kind enough to give you the time off from work since he knew your emotional and mental state wasn’t the best it could be. Everyone on the team worried about you, but Spencer worried the most. His father wasn’t there for him, and he didn’t know what he would do if he lost his mother, so he couldn’t understand exactly how you were feeling.

Three months ago, your mother died in her sleep. You guess if she had to go somehow, then her sleep was the best option. However, it wasn’t enough that she died, but she died on your watch. She had asked you to stay with her because she wasn’t feeling well, and as you were letting her take her afternoon nap, she passed away. The heartbreak you felt was like none other, and you stumbled into work the next morning with tears rolling down your face. Everyone kept asking what was wrong, but you went straight to Hotch to explain why you needed some time off.

Since you mostly worked from the office like Spencer and Garcia did, he gave you all the time you needed. In the beginning, you thought a few weeks would be efficient, but you haven’t been back for three months. Hotch was being lenient because they could do their jobs without you, and he’d rather have you at work 100% than anything else.

For the past three months, you’ve been inside your apartment. Refusing to even open the curtains, you stayed in the dark as much as you could. Hygiene and food were something you barely did because it hurt too much to even stand up. So, you’ve been in bed mostly, and if anyone were to walk in, they would think a zombie lived here instead of you. Spencer worried so much about you, but there have been so many cases that he hadn’t had time to physically check up on you. Whenever he texted you, you would either not respond or would send one word to let him know you were “fine”.

The first opportunity that Spencer got to go visit you, he took it. As soon as his shift was over, he packed up his things and rushed out of the office so quickly, his coworkers could barely see him as he ran by.

“I hope she’s okay,” Emily sighed.

“Spencer is going to check on her. She’s in good hands,” Derek said as he took a seat at his desk. Spencer managed to make it to your house in fifteen minutes rather than the usual twenty-five. A while ago when you had been bedridden because you broke your leg badly, he received a key to your apartment in case you needed him to come over, and he’s never given it back since you never asked for it back. Using that same key now, he unlocked the door and stepped inside the almost pitch-black room. Despite it being nothing but blue skies outside, it looked like a horror film in here.

“Y/N?” he called out as he set his messenger bag by the door. He turned on a lamp to give the room a light orange glow as he walked into the bedroom. He could barely make out a lump in the bed, but he knew it was you under the covers. Walking over to your side, he knelt down before looking into your broken eyes.

“Spencer,” you whispered.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Numb. Tell Hotch I don’t think I’m going into work tomorrow.”

“Y/N, I can't even begin to imagine what you’re going through right now, but I know you need to get out of bed. Even in the dark, I can tell you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

“Why should I? I couldn’t take care of her,” you sniffled as a new wave of tears left your eyes.

“Okay, come on, I need you to get up.”

“Why?” you moaned as Spencer helped you to sit up. The last time you took a shower was yesterday and that was only because you were starting to get sick from your stench, but you haven't brushed your hair at all.

“It’s not healthy what you’re doing.”

“What do you know?” you snapped.

“I’m no stranger to mental illnesses, and if you’ll let me, I have something that will make you feel better.”

“What could you possibly have that will make me feel better? Can you bring back my mom?” you asked a bit too harshly. You knew he was only trying to help, so right after you said that, you felt really bad.

“I can’t, but if you’ll let me, I can try and help. Staying in this dark apartment isn’t helping you.”

“Please help me,” you whispered as your voice cracked. The doctor nodded as he turned on your lamp which illuminated the room. Shielding your eyes from the bright light, you turned to face away from it as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Man, you really looked like a fucking troll. Spencer grabbed your brush before sitting behind you and running the brush through your hair. He was taking care of you in the way you took care of your mom. The only difference is you won’t die if he leaves the room.

“Does this hurt?” he asked as he untangled your hair.

“No.”

“You need to get changed.”

“I don’t want to leave this room,” you whimpered when he set the brush down.

“Y/N, do you trust me?” he asked as he looked at you in the eyes.

“With my life.”

“Then get dressed. I’ll wait outside,” he said as he kissed your forehead before leaving. Taking a deep breath, you decided to listen to him and grabbed the first thing you could get your hands on. Once ready, Spencer took your hand and began leading you to the front door. Every nerve in your body felt so heavy that it was hard to even walk, but you managed to make it outside with Spencer. The sun was beating down on you harshly, and you shielded your eyes from the brightness.

“Why are we out here?” you asked.

“Look at the sky,” he said. Sighing, you shielded your eyes from the sun as you looked at the bright blue sky that was littered with puffy clouds. “The reason why you're not healing and starting the process of moving on is that you were stuck in your apartment in the dark. You lack Vitamin D which is what your body needs. The sun is the most viable source for it. The fact that you made it outside shows me you’re strong enough to forgive yourself.”

“Forgive myself for what?” you asked as you looked at him.

“For leaving your mother alone. It’s not your fault that she died. She had a lot of medical problems, and you both knew her time was due soon. I think you’re sad she died, but I think you’re more sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“I didn't,” you whispered as a few tears fell down.

“My mother believes in Heaven, and according to her, your mother is looking down at you with a smile on her face. She’s no longer in pain, and she wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, pulling him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you nuzzled your head in his neck. He was right, you were feeling a little bit better.

But it wasn’t because of the sun.

It was because of him.

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[sovereignofmysoul]

Here’s a story for you - 

my first (and only) job was, is, a shoe store. I work at Payless, and I’ve worked here for two years and some change. 

The company went bankrupt, and everything went tits up. 

At first, it was just “They’re really shutting us down? Is that really what’s happening?” and then it was “It’s damn stupid to be crying over this, but goddammit, I am.” and then it was fighting, and arguing, and yelling, and fear. What are we gonna do? Where will we work? Why aren’t we getting bonuses, how dare they not tell us, how can they do this, it isn’t fair.

We’re losing our jobs.

Our assistant manager and I have been good friends since she started working for us. I would have, could have, had the position if I’d wanted it. I was never asked, but I know I could’ve. I would’ve been good at it.

I do most of her job for her anyway. Why wasn’t I asked? 

She never tried to pull rank with me before, and honestly I’m glad because it wouldn’t’ve worked. It didn’t work. I worked at this store long before her, and I trained her. I do most of the work, and I’ve busted my ass to make sure this store stays in good shape.

None of that matters because she did, finally, pull rank. 

Fun fact, I don’t like being told what to do by someone younger than me that I trained. I taught her how to do this job, and she thinks she can tell me what to do now? I hated it.

It started drama because of course it did, nothing is ever simple, and being screamed at to do my job or fucking quit isn’t something I particularly enjoyed. 

We’re closing. Why fucking bother?

We’re losing our jobs, and we don’t get a bonus at the end of this. We can’t file for unemployment because we’re part time. Two years at this goddamned store, and what do I get for it? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

The friendship soured because of course it did, and there’s really no repairing it. I feel little guilt because I said some things I shouldn’t have, but she is also a huge hypocrite. I apologized. She didn’t.

My favourite coworker got a new job first, she’s going to be working at wal-mart. My other coworker was next, he’s working at a local diner. Me and assistant manager are the only two that don’t have jobs lined up. 

I’m being sent to another store, a bigger store, and she is twenty-one so she isn’t worried because she has no bills to pay.

I have less than three months to find a new job. 

I’m fucking terrified.

Change is scary, and not only am I losing my job, I lost a friend in the process.

I haven’t had a panic attack in months, but I’m on the verge of one now, and I fucking hate it.

Of course, I don’t have to get a new job. I could go to the doctor and finally get the back surgery I’ve been putting off. But where would I be then? A 12 hour surgery with a 25% chance of leaving me paralyzed, and three months bedridden. 

I can’t work with food, I’d be sick again faster than you can say, “But you’re in recovery!” 

Denial, denial, denial. 

I hate working retail, and my store is small, and we are closing quicker than the others.

We close for good this coming Tuesday. I’m being sent to another Payless in the city to work for them for the last three months. We have until the end of May. 

Crows still make me nervous sometimes, and the city gets more people in a day than we used to have all week. It’s a small town, and it’s a small store, and only five of us work there if we include my manager.

I’m fucking terrified.

I can’t afford to not have a job. I can’t afford to quit. But goddammit, I’m so damn scared of people sometimes. 

I’m scared in a way I haven’t been in a very, very long time. 

And honestly? The fact that I’m scared makes me afraid. 

My fear gave itself fear. My panic attacks gave themselves more panic attacks.

My mind is a circular maze that I can’t get out of, even though I’ve been in therapy for four years.

I don’t know if I’m strong enough. I’m medicated. I’m in therapy. I’m in recovery, goddammit, but I am so afraid of being the person I used to be.

I don’t know if I can do this.

I have to.