#have been like. unable to cook for myself or really eat anything

[milkweedman]

Finally caved and ordered a spoon carving knife. Not really for spoons (altho i may make some)--want to carve some spinning bowls and you really need a round knife for that. Ive got a couple boughs ive found and dragged home that would make awesome bowls lol.

More than anything i cant wait for summer, when its warm enough to just sit outside and whittle things.

[leadmeastraylittlefairy]

.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve never had a particularly strong desire to get high. Altered mind states have always been somewhat unappealing to me. The only drug I’ve ever enjoyed taking was a prescription strength muscle relaxant that loosened all my knots at once and sent me into the boneless slumber of jello. Top marks.

But I have dabbled with pot. As I’m wildly sensitive to smoke my only recourse was to try edibles and anyone could’ve predicted this was a recipe for disaster. So here’s the story of the first time I got high.

Connor was a major stoner. He was a high energy guy who loved hiking, had his shit together, and absolutely loved getting high and relaxing. One day he decided to make pot brownies. Connor was an amazing cook in his own right but he came into my life at a time when I was eating mayonnaise sandwiches and started giving me real food so I viewed him as a paragon of cookery. He made amazing desserts. And he didn’t make a batch of no pot brownies.

I’d never had one of Connor’s brownies, before, but dear god I wanted one when they came out of the oven in a waft of rich chocolatey smells. They were fudgey and perfect and all that I wanted in the world was to eat one. I watched him take a bite, burning with envy and desire.

Being high seemed like a small price to pay if only I could sink my teeth into the warm splendor of brownie. I came up to where he was sitting on the couch, slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hey. I want to try a bite,” I told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I was sure as fuck that I wanted that brownie in my mouth.

Connor was sat facing the tv and held up his hand without looking so I could take a bite. I am not a creature of modest bites. And I wanted that brownie. I took a huge bite, carving into the interior of the brownie, leaving Connor with a only a rim.

He pulled his hand back and saw the brownie crime I had committed and gave a resigned chuckle. “Well this is going to be fun.”

On one other occasion in my life I’ve tried an edible and there was a brief relaxed period before things went horribly wrong that made me think, this is probably where most people stop and enjoy themselves.

But on this occasion, the massive bite of brownie didn’t drift me slowly up through layers of being high. It skyrocketed me into high space with great prejudice. I have no memory of a middle point, I wasn’t high and then I was suddenly so high I couldn’t function.

I’ve heard people talk about paranoia. I didn’t have that. Some people mention nervousness, no, none of that for me. My mind was simply gone. A thought would blip to life on one side of my brain and fail to travel through the fog to find its conclusion. I couldn’t think. I wasn’t really experiencing sensation. I was nothing in the void.

When Connor realized I’d been staring wall eyed at nothing for too long he said, “How are you doing?”

It took a long time to process the words and even longer to slur out, “I can see everything.”

I don’t remember him getting up and leaving, or waiting, or anything really. Thoughts flickered and died in my mindscape, meaningless and alone.

Then Connor put headphones on me.

I was unable to conceive of anything as wonderful as music surrounding me, and thus began the only nice part of the trip. I might have experienced ego death but at least I had the ethereal sounds of Pure Reason Revolution to wrap myself in.

I’m not sure how long the nice phase lasted. But eventually something started going wrong in my mouth. My throat became uncomfortable enough to pierce the haze I was in. It was almost numb, and impossibly dry. I drank water to no avail. Finally I conceived of the solution. “Ice cream!” I demanded of Connor.

He went to grab some and I was dismayed that when I took a bite the sensation in my throat intensified. “It made it worse,” I complained.

“Made what worse?” Connor asked, because of course I hadn’t actually told him why I’d wanted ice cream.

When I told him what was happening he said, “Oh, of course ice cream is going to make cotton mouth worse.”

“Well then why did you give it to me!” I complained. He smiled fondly at my irrational grumping and got me more water.

Finally I’d had enough. Music couldn’t erase my discomfort, I was getting frustrated I couldn’t think but I was still high as balls and I wanted the night to be over. Connor suggested I go to bed so I climbed up into my bed and lay there, uncomfortably high.

I couldn’t sleep. My throat was so cottony, a side effect I hadn’t known existed and I thoroughly loathed.

Then I thought: I could masturbate! Connor had talked about enjoying that while high. I’d give it a shot. My body however was wiser than my head and was having none of this plan. It refused to respond, stubbornly insisting that now was not the time.

I doubled down, refusing to give up on this horrible idea and in a bitter struggle, and against my body’s own wishes, I produced an orgasm that rated a 0 on the pleasure scale. Something happened but it was like a resentful flex of muscles that stopped immediately.

Furious with the overall experience of being high I buried my head in pillows and finally slept. I told Connor the next day about my attempt and he facepalmed so hard. “Why didn’t you just go to sleep! You were way too high to enjoy that.”

I grumbled and agreed that it was very stupid. I tried to weigh the single bite of brownie I had with the absolutely wretched hours of discomfort and while it didn’t quite balance it was still pretty close. It was a really good brownie.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for visiting a restaurant after it changed ownership?

I (young adult, genders irrelevant for everyone in this story) have been living in the same neighborhood for most of my life, and I usually cook my own dinner. However, because my dad left the family when I was young, and my mom made me move out as soon as I was an adult, I wasn't completely prepared to live on my own, so I don't have a consistent source of income. I've had to move between apartments in the same neighborhood a lot, and sometimes when I'm in the process of moving it's really hard to cook my own dinner. The neighborhood is pretty isolated, so there aren't really many other places to get food, so I've mostly been hungry during those moving periods.

However, a few months ago, my friend R told me L, one of our neighbors I hadn't talked to before, was starting a restaurant business. She'd apparently started out by making food for her two children, S and O, who I'd seen around the neighborhood a few times and was vaguely familiar with, but realized her food was good and opened it up to the rest of the neighborhood for a low price. Of course, I was super excited to get to try someone else's cooking for the first time since I'd moved out, so R and I started visiting L's restaurant every now and then when I was moving or otherwise unable to cook. It's her secondary job, so she wasn't always there, but S and O also worked there and were friendly to us.

I thought it was a good arrangement... until I visited one day recently to find the door closed at a time when it's usually open. I would have just gone home, but it had been really rainy lately, I was under a lot of stress, and I didn't feel up to getting food for myself in those conditions, so I stood around for a few minutes, waiting to see if S or O would come out and explain. Instead, some people I've never seen before came into the lobby of the restaurant and just stared at me from inside. Instead of explaining anything to me or letting me in, they just laughed at me and took pictures of me? I was already really upset and that just made it unbearable to be around other people, so I left. I went back a few days later to double check if it was open, because I was still hungry, but the new people were still there, and I left even more quickly this time. I'm not proud of that- maybe I could have talked to the new people if I'd stayed longer instead of embarrassing myself, but I also feel like they were being really rude.

I asked R about it later to see if they'd talked to S or O lately or knew anything about what I assumed was change in ownership, but R didn't help at all. They told me that they hadn't seen S or O, but I shouldn't have expected the restaurant to stay open forever and that it was stupid of me to go back on the second day. I guess I can see how I might have been an asshole to go back, but I don't know what R meant about the restaurant. Is it because it's not L's main job? Were we the only customers and not giving her enough income to continue it for anyone but her kids? Or was the restaurant like... a front for money laundering or something? I really don't know. I'm hurt, hungry, and so confused. Was I in the wrong for bothering the new humans? Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[mystic-headcanons]

hihi :3 i love your writing n i literally stay up til late reading your work, it’s sooo cute >< i’ve been having hard days at work so they cheer me up a lot!!

i was wondering if i could make a req please? basically, mc comes home from work TIRED and saeyoung pampers them!!! i would love if u include writing smth along the lines of him taking off mc’s makeup too, only if u can ofc!!

thank u sososo much <3 i appreciate u so much

thank u !!! i’m rly glad they can cheer u up and i hope ur work days get better <3 i’m in food service so i know how rough it gets and esp around the holidays. i hope u enjoy !!! <3

-

there’s two different types of exhaustion. there’s just normal exhausted, where keeping your eyes open feels like a herculean task and you can’t stop counting down the minutes until you’re finally home, and then there’s exhausted exhausted, where it seeps into your bones and burrows down, down, deep into your core. where your head is filled with cotton and all you can do is stare blankly ahead of you, unable to register anything. saeyoung is intimately familiar with the latter one, with spending long days and longer nights working for the agency, and then the hacker that had threatened the rfa.

it was late when you finally came home. you didn’t say a word to saeyoung when he’d asked about your day, didn’t spare a second glance to saeran when he’s walked into the kitchen, and instead just trudged up the stairs. “they seem worn out.” saeran commented with a frown, and saeyoung nodded in agreement. if there was one thing that could make saeran drop his tough act, it was you. (and oh, that was such a lovely thing for saeyoung to witness. truly, there is not one person he can think of who is immune to his charms. seeing his future spouse and brother get along was everything to saeyoung.) without a second thought, saeyoung picked up a bowl of whatever he had been attempting to cook and followed you up the stairs.

you didn't even look up when he came into the room. you were laying on the bed with your eyes shut, still in your work clothes. "long day?" saeyoung asked, sympathy in his voice. you didn't say anything, only nodded your head. he made his way over to the bed and sat down next to you; the pressure made you finally open your eyes. "here," he quietly said, "i brought you dinner." saeyoung held the bowl out to you, but you shook your head. "too tired." you mumbled, your eyes slipping back shut. "nope. you've still gotta eat." he said, gently nudging you. at his insistence, you slowly sat up and stifled a yawn as you did so. when you reached for the bowl, however, saeyoung shook his head and lifted the fork to your lips. "i'll feed you." he said, giving you a soft smile. "saeyoung, i can feed myself." the thought of him feeding you-- like you were an infant, or incapable, was enough to bring an embarrassed flush to your cheeks. "i know." was all saeyoung said, and he lifted an eyebrow as he waited for you to eat. how many times had you taken care of saeyoung when he felt too exhausted to even breathe? when he was simply incapable of doing anything for himself? the answer was: too many times for saeyoung to keep count. it was his turn to take care of you.

once the food was gone and saeyoung was satisfied with how much you ate, he took your hands in his and gently tugged you off the bed. "come on. let's get you washed up and take off the makeup and then we can go to bed." he softly said, leading you to the bathroom. saeyoung helped you out of your work clothes and into the bathtub that was filled with hot water. saeyoung's hands were gentle as he washed over your body, as he massaged the shampoo and then the conditioner into your hair, as he kept running his fingers through the strands and gently combing them. it was the type of softness that had tears springing to your eyes-- being treated so gently, like you're something precious and breakable, was something you weren't really used to.

it felt like hours, (in reality it was only minutes), until you were finally out of the bath. saeyoung had been the one to dry you off, to dress you in his shirt and a pair of his sweatpants because you had always found comfort in his clothes, in him. he gave a low chuckle as you were literally swaying on your feet, and he reached out to steady you. "i know, i know. but we're almost done." saeyoung murmured, grabbing your makeup wipes. he slowly began to wipe your makeup off- all the eyeshadow, the smudged eyeliner, the mascara that had ended up under your eyes, the foundation that had been mostly sweat off, the concealer, the contour. he used a few more wipes to ensure that he got everything, and then grabbed your facial cleanser and used that. you had a whole routine to clean your face that saeyoung wasn't about to go through, but he knew you'd kill him if he didn't at least use the cleanser.

once your face was cleaned and clear of any makeup, and the two of you had brushed your teeth, you were finally in bed and curled around saeyoung. "thank you." you quietly murmured, turning your head to press a kiss to the bottom part of his jaw. "you don't have to thank me. you've done the exact same thing for me many, many times before. besides, i like caring for you." saeyoung whispered back, and he kissed the side of your head as you fell into a deep, deep sleep.

[afterhourswjay]

HI JAY! Ive been sick for like a week now so it got me wondering... how would Thoma Ayato Itto and wanderer take care of the reader when they are sick? (SFW, HEADCANON) I NEED THE MALEWIFE OR DOTING PARTNER ENERGY 😞😞😞😞❤️❤️❤️

Howdy, Kichi!! That sounds like it sucks! I'm also really, REALLY, sorry for how late this is!! I haven't had the motivation to write as of late (・・；) I've also been kinda sick myself

Drown in soup, but not literally

the reader is sick, and requires bedrest to get better. how does their partner help them out??

characters: Thoma, Ayato, Itto, and Wanderer warnings:

Thoma

goes full nurse on you

when he hears that your not feeling well, he immediately ushers you off to bed. you don't need to worry about any of your obligations, as he'll make sure to take care of them to the best of his ability

if you're sick with the flu, then he's making sure that your keeping food and fluids down

if you got a simple head cold, then he's not nearly as worried which is saying a lot

he really loves you and doesn't like the fact that theres only so much he can do to help you feel better

he gets really scared if your unable to keep stuff in your stomach

i feel like you'd be pretty good friends with ayato and ayaka, so they'd be more than willing to contact some of the best doctors on your behalf for some of the best medicine they can afford

ngl, he's super worried about you

if he notices your uncomfortable, tired, or really anything other than rested and comfortable, he'll try his best to help you out

do you need more pillows or blankets? are you hungry or thirsty? are you bored, perhaps??

makes you the best meal when your finally feeling better

probably takes you out for an evening walk as well, since you haven't really been moving while sick

definitely hovers around you a lot more for about a week or 2 after you've recovered before he eases up

he knows that getting sick is just part of life, and that it happens to everyone, but that doesn't mean he won't still worry about you

Kamisato Ayato

ngl, i feel like his attention is already split between all his responsibilities that he doesn't notice you feeling unwell at first

once he does notice, however, than he's ushering you off to rest for the time being

he doesn't want to see you trying to do any work until your feeling well

you two have been living together as a way to make it easier for him to protect you from any attempts at people trying to kidnap you for ransom

has the staff bring you anything you may need on days where he's particularly busy

he's not the best cook, either, so he has his staff cook the best foods for someone whos feeling under the weather

spends any of his spare time in your room with you

some times he'll even bring his paperwork in with him so that he can spend time with you but also get some stuff done hint: hes too worried about you to work on his stuff

your condition worsens into the flu before you start getting better

by the time your feeling better, you've pretty much got a mountain of blankets and pillows on your bed

he asks you what you want to eat a day or so after confirming with a doctor that you are officially recovered

Arataki Itto

you were taking a couple days off from taking commissions from the adventurers guild, deciding to spend it with your boyfriend arataki itto

the two of you were running around the whole of inazuma, collecting lavender melons and catching onikabuto beetles

you and itto had gotten caught in a downpour, having to book it across the beach to some makeshift and rather run down huts

why the two of you chose to come to koseki village, you'll never know

but, after the downpour passes, you two head back to your waverider and then back to inazuma city

wet clothes forgotten about due to the rest of the arataki gang having gotten into a little trouble with the guards, you proceed to talk to them while kuki shinobu chews out everyone

eventually, like. close to sundown, your able to make your way to your home to change out of your still damp clothes

you catch a cold the day after, having full body shivers

with practically no word from you for a few days has the whole gang worried for your wellbeing, and they practically break into your home

when you wake up, all bleary eyed from sleep, your met with the group surrounding your bed

after explaining you just have the chills, and are fine for the most part, the most of them leave to go do what they do most days

however, itto sticks around, keeping you company

he does also apologize for the fact that you got caught in the rain a few days ago

you immediately tell him that he has nothing to be sorry about, unless he can control the weather and intentionally made it downpour on the two of you

you then get out of bed, giving him a hug, and then meander off to your kitchen, asking him to help you make some soup

Wanderer

whenever you start being sucked down by depression, you tend to push yourself to work harder

and, often times, this leads you to neglecting your own needs

he may not be the best boyfriend, what with having to sort through his past and his feelings, but he does try his best

he's also hella observant. while he may not comment on everything, hardly anything is able to get past him

so, he makes a mental note every time you add another commission onto your growing list of commissions

he starts to grow annoyed with you when, instead of stopping to take a break for lunch that, you decide to just eat lunch on the way to your next commission

you don't really know what you did to upset him, but kuni seems to start making what your brain interprets as snide comments towards you sometimes

it isn't until your body decides to rebel against you and you fall sick when you realize that he wasn't really making snide comments towards you, thats just how your tired brain interpreted it

he was trying to warn you about pushing yourself to do more than what your body could handle

kuni doesn't really let you do anything until your recovered from being sick

he puts you back on a proper schedule, making sure you get 3 meals a day, all easy on your stomach as to not make you feel worse than you likely already are

he also puts you on a proper sleep schedule, making sure you get between 8-10 hours of sleep a night

kuni's surprisingly nice while your sick. he knows how much more sensitive you are to his usual comments during times like these so he saves the lectures for when your back to feeling 100% better

its ok, tho. he's back to being mean, and more than makes up for it by basically dragging you all over sumeru and inazuma for ascension materials

[supeson]

timid trust, still displaced

part one, part two, part three

You quit your job. Or more accurately, you get a better offer for the same job you're currently doing at another place in the city. It's also closer to The Daily Planet, so Clark uses it as an excuse to check on you more often. You start making a real effort to eat real food. You're still working on actually cooking and making fresh meals, but for now the frozen ready made ones you eat are enough. At least you're eating. It takes you a while, but you finally fall into a rhythm.

*

You decide to stop your antidepressants. You spend a whole session speaking to your therapist about it, weighing the pros and cons. Pro: you haven't really felt like they've been doing anything for you lately with how well you've been doing. Con: what if you stop them and everything goes to shit? Pro: you have an actual support system now to help you. Con: you feel bad making people care about you.

"I wouldn't say you're forcing anybody to care about you," your therapist says. "People choose to care."

"Fair, I guess. I just hate making people worry. I can take care of myself; I'm an adult." She looks at you pointedly at that. "Alright I don't have the best track record but I've made it this far in life and that's gotta count for something."

She taps something into her laptop. "Well, if you do decide to, just know that there is a washout period, so don't be surprised if it takes you a while to feel normal."

*

You go out more. You find that while staying at home is nice and definitely what you prefer, going out for small things can help improve your mood. Even if it's just to the corner store for some chips.

Then Clark gets stuck in deep space for three weeks right before your birthday, and you spiral. It starts small, with minor annoyances making you angry. Then, your new friends at work seem to back off (through nobody's fault, really, but you can't help but feel like it's entirely your fault, and that they don't like you anymore). Your days off become days full of nothing but sitting on your couch trying to occupy your time with multiple hobbies, only to abandon them out of boredom or frustration when things don't go like they're supposed to. You want nothing more than to reach out to Clark, but he's indisposed.

You find yourself bottling up emotionally, unable to cry or articulate your frustrations. You feel stupid for feeling like this, for being unable to reach out to anybody for help. The loneliness is eating you alive, and you're content to sit there and let it swallow you whole.

*

You wake up from another nap to the sound of keys in the door. You heart leaps at the sound, but you roll over anyway, pulling the blankets more tightly around your neck. You feel achy and gritty from laying in bed since yesterday, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

Clark notices the groceries first. There are empty boxes of ramen noodles stacked up beside the garbage, and there are half eaten bags of chips stacked on top of your fridge. The inside of the fridge is almost barren, except for a gallon of milk and one shelf in the door full of condiments. He exhales heavily, having expected the sight, but disappointed nonetheless.

He makes his way to your bedroom, slips on your light, and puts down his bag. He knows you're awake, he can hear your heartbeat pick up when he sits down on the bed. Clark puts a hand on the lump he deduces is you, and you shift, rolling towards him and squinting up at him. You uncover your mouth enough to speak to him.

"Hey, babe." You voice is nothing more than a croak, from sleep and disuse.

"Do you want to talk about it now, or later?" Is all he asks in response.

You bristle, ready to go on the offense, then close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Not really."

He nods. "How can I best help you right now?"

You think. You gut response is to get angry, tell him to leave. But he loves you, you remind yourself. It's not fair to take my terrible mood out on him. "I have a headache."

"Okay, when was the last time you ate and drank anything?"

You silence speaks volumes.

Clark peels back the blankets, untangling you for the first time in a while, from what he can tell. "Okay, let's head to the kitchen and see what we can find, okay sweetheart?"

You're embarrassed by the backslide, but Clark is nothing more than helpful, willing to wait until you're ready to sit down and have a discussion with him. It makes your eyes water knowing you have somebody that cares about you in all aspects, and not just what you can do for them. You blink back tears as you clutch him, stumbling down the hallway together.

[adamsandlermealplan]

Every Meal is Shared With You Now and Forever

Bún Bò Huế at Tương Lai (Cabramatta) | 1 August

It's nothing new under the sun to write about how love and food are entwined. How preparing a meal, the deliberate act of taking someone to a restaurant that you enjoy, the times when the scent of a familiar flavour sends you into a wave of emotions... A humanity that has been forever. It's what really made me want to start writing more, although I fear reproducing half-baked diaspora musings. But maybe that's why I do want to record it, precisely because of its eternal and intrinsic nature that transcends time and fuses communities together.

My grandma passed away on Sunday, and food has not tasted the same since. She was my third parent, and my constant. Until the last day that she could stand she would cook lunch and dinner for everyone. After school and work, the first thing that she would ask is whether I was having dinner. Almost without missing a day, she would cook for us. My gut wrenches from remembering the times when I declined and said I would eat later. The times that I've told her I was going out for dinner and her subsequent dejected mood. More than anything, I had declined her act of love. I deserve to feel this terrible, brokenhearted remorse.

She grew up learning to cook with her eyes and her nose. Being the fourth daughter of a Chinese immigrant in British occupied Malaysia, she was prohibited from getting an education by her father. She was basically illiterate, bar the few Chinese characters and basic English words she had to teach herself. I had always considered myself fortunate to be able to indulge in a cuisine many had only later been introduced to. A cuisine that was an almagation of Indian immigrants, Malay locals, many generations of Chinese-Malays and even the influence of British and Portuguese colonisers. She would pound her own spices for curries, cook herbal soups when we came into flu season. So much knowledge through simply absorbing the world around her. Learning the only way she really knew how. I loved her sambal which she would use on a variety of dishes. Nasi lemak. Fried okra. Fried fish. She really loved golden, deep fried delicacies. She introduced me to what Westerners would consider more "challenging" foods. Liver, blood jelly, tripe. I feel so lucky to be able to appreciate these foods. When I had a 2 year vegetarian stint, she would take the effort to cook me a separate dish with no meat. I'm honestly glad I started to eat meat again so I could taste her original cooking before it was too late. I should have known that through her cooking and her hours of preparation, her commitment to make sure we were fed were all intrinsic acts of love. I will never be able to taste it again. I will never be able to repay it.

I ate this bún bò huế after visiting the temple where my family and I have now decided to place her ashes. I had been crying until my eyes had become swollen, and looked bee-stung. I was weepy, still, when they brought this soup noodle out. While it was delicious with its spicy tang and careful notes of fermented seafood, like most of the meals I've had since, it was dampened by the flavour of grief. The thought of being unable to share this with her dulled the usual melody of aromas I would get from that first taste of the soup. If she were with me, I would have asked for a separate little bowl for her to try the silky noodles and bits of Vietnamese ham. Now and until forever, I thought, I could not ever return those acts of care to her. So from that day I promised that every meal is shared with her. I will think of her in every bowl of noodle soup, every bite of curry, even whatever bland work lunch I may have. Tonight is the 7th day since her death, so I poured us a glass of her favourite beer (Guiness) and we served her a little plate of our dinner on the makeshift altar in her room and I feel a little better about it all.

[genderless-spoon]

Okay I’m gonna rant on here for a sec cause I’m frustrated and have nowhere to put it.

I don’t know if you guys know what the term “ingredient household” means but essentially it’s a term that describes a house that doesn’t really do a lot of snack and meals that are pre-made or, in my case, even pre-planned.

Adding on to this concept, I’m sure many of us on here heard our parents claim we “had food at home” or “had plenty of food in the house” and we were “just picky and/or lazy” whenever we asked about getting food out or buying groceries or anything similar.

This was my house. We were mostly an ingredient household but my parents didn’t plan out the meals for which they were buying ingredients, my mom would just buy the same generic groceries every time with very little variety and would improvise throughout the week. This meant we ate a lot of the same food made in slightly different ways all the time (which is not, in itself, the problem). It also meant that when I got home from school and both my parents were at work, not to return home for at least a few hours each (often well after dinner time) I was usually hungry and we had no snacks unless I wanted to shove handfuls of chocolate chips in my mouth or eat spoonfuls of peanut butter (both things I used to do). This paired with the fact that my parents needed time to settle in and my family didn’t tend to eat dinner until pretty late, meant I was often told to find food myself if I was hungry.

My mom did this to us a lot growing up, but starting from a pretty early age when even making a sandwich was kind of a lot. I always wished she’d have taught me how to make at least a few small things, because when I was told that we had food and it was all just ingredients I genuinely didn’t have any clue what to do. I have been seeing a lot of parents on social media complaining about the “we have no food” line that their children pull, and it’s starting to really bother me. Obviously I know this is not the same situation for all of these kids but I think children in general tend to be pretty resourceful and creative, and do not want to sit there hungry unable to do anything about it. They aren’t just acting helpless so their parents do things for them, they are literally children, they’re supposed to be more helpless than an adult in that regard.

I think a lot of parents (especially gen x parents) seem to assume that just because something seemed simple to them their children should already know instinctively how to do it, but everyone has to learn their skills somewhere and making that process a little easier on your children is such a great way to show them how much you love them. Involving the kids in the process of making dinner little by little and encouraging them to learn is much more effective than just one day expecting them to know how to take care of themselves. If you don’t want to spend all that time making food for your children (which, by the way, is literally what you sign on for when you choose to have kids), then at least take a bit of time every so often to provide them with the skills they’ll need to be successful without your help. Children are still learning how to be humans and sometimes they need a little extra help.

I now really struggle to prepare dinner for myself regularly as an adult because I’m starting from scratch having never really learned much beyond the easy stuff I could make myself as a middle schooler. I’m also disabled (in multiple ways) and going through the whole process is so draining that I often end up not eating or eating something pre-made, and while there’s nothing wrong with that food it is frustrating to feel awful all the time from eating that kind of food but not have the time, energy, or money to figure out a way without it.

My parents never prepared me for real life tasks and self care responsibilities and my parents are my biggest critics when I fail or struggle with simple tasks like cooking dinner despite them being the reason for it. Every time I so much as attempt to make myself food that isn’t frozen or pre-made my mom has to comment on how it looks or how healthy it is when I’m literally just lucky I was able to do what I did.

I don’t know how relatable this is, maybe it’s only going to make sense to a select few people, but I just needed to get it off my chest. I’m sorry for the rant, thank you for reading. Let me know if you relate to this so I know I’m not just yelling into the void lol.

[krikeymate]

if i ever lost you i would lose myself - chapter 6/10

Chapter 6.

Sam can’t drag her eyes away from her baby sister.

They’re finally home. Well, Tara is, snuggled up in her bed. And Sam is at home with her sister in her arms.

She covets the relaxed expression, the upturn of her mouth as she cradles Sam’s arm to her chest, the sleepy sighs and the way she nuzzles into her pillow. There’s a peace here that Sam’s never felt before. It thrums through her body, leaving a warmth in her chest and face, and the tips of her fingers and toes tingling. 

Sam’s happy. 

She’s so so happy.

A younger her could never imagine that she could feel this way, long-cracked under the weight of responsibility for another and tethered to the shadow of her mother wielding a bottle like a weapon. But she’s not that little girl anymore, and neither is Tara. Her mother is just a disappointment, not a monster waiting for them to trip to eat them whole.

They’ve faced real monsters and come out on top. She has nothing left to fear from that hag, if she even bothers to show up. She never did respond to the voicemail Sam left at the hospital, nor the follow-up text of ‘we both nearly died btw. in case you cared.’

 Sam gets the impression that she doesn’t care.

She might care if she comes home to find the daughter she kicked out squatting in her residence once again, but Sam decides not to dwell on what-ifs. She’ll deal with it as and when it comes. Maybe she’ll threaten to kill her if she tries to make her leave. She’s done that now, taken a life, that threat holds a weight. It would be so easy. Her mother was always comparing her to Billy in the end, what’s one more comparison? She would do anything to stay with Tara.

~

Tara doesn’t adjust well to being on bed rest. She’s spent so long looking after herself, and now she’s stuck in bed, unable to do even the most basic of things without feeling like her body is being torn apart again. It turns out that without the adrenaline of a life-or-death situation and the remnants of the fentanylrunning through her system, existing is agony. Sam’s admiration for her little sister only grows with every choked-back groan and trembling movement. It’s admirable, but it’s stupid, and she’s really got to cut it out.

For some reason, Tara’s embarrassed to receive Sam’s help. As if Sam wasn’t the one who changed her diapers, bathed with her until she hit double digits, and taught her how to use a tampon. Tara doesn’t get to be shy around Sam of all people.

Tara’s not impressed when she tells her so as she tries to give her a bed bath.

Sam had offered to hire someone professional to help look after her if Tara wasn’t comfortable with Sam helping her, but her sister’s subsequent panic at the thought of being vulnerable around a stranger gave her the resounding no she had secretly hoped for. Sam’s not ready to trust anyone around her sister, and she’s never trusted anyone else to look after her, not really, so why would she start now?

There’s a part of her hoping to cheat her way back into Tara’s trust, to skip the explain why you left and the five-year gap in their memories where their sister should have been. Sam wants to jump right back into where they left off, to be 18 and 13 again, to be 15 and 10, 13 and 8. She wants those years back. She wants to make up for them, needs to make up for them.

It starts with dabbing a cloth around her wounds and changing her bandages.

~

Sam dedicates every part of herself to helping Tara heal. She maintains unwavering vigilance, constantly checking her wounds for signs of infection, doggedly preventing Tara from making any sort of movement that might pull at her stitches. She has alarms set for when Tara needs to take her meds, and alarms for her alarms in case she misses the first ones. She cooks for the first time in a long time, making nutritious and well-balanced meals for her sister, with extra vegetables after that first night, when Tara had taken one look at the broccoli and asked what the fuck is that. It's the one thing she wishes had changed, she realises, as Tara eats only a third of the meal. It’s something that is going to change, she vows. She has nothing but time now, she’ll dedicate it all to her sister, to fixing the damaged parts of her. Maybe she can fix the broken parts of herself along the way, she hopes.

Despite it all, Tara gets sick anyway.

Sam’s halfway through typing up a letter of complaint against the doctor who was coughing at Tara’s latest check-up, before her sister wakes up and realises what she’s doing. Her hand flops against the screen, slapping the laptop shut. “You’re being ridiculous,” she croaks into her pillow. “He got you sick!” Sam retorts, filled with indignation. Tara holds her arms out, reaching for her. “Cuddle with me?” She’s trying to distract her, Sam knows. It never fails to work.

~

It gets worse before it gets better.

The illness saps energy Tara didn’t have to spare, already all spent on healing from her wounds. There’s a day where Tara is too drained to react, where there’s no whining when Sam carries her to the bathroom, no protesting when she helps her eat. She just lies there in Sam’s arms and lets it happen. It has her holding her breath the entire time, hovering, terrified to look away, to leave her for even a moment.

The relief is ineffable when her sister begins to complain again. She would rather have Tara fighting her at every step than that quiet docile thing. Her sister has been fighting since the day she was born, and Sam wouldn’t want her any other way.

“I’m not a baby,” Tara mutters, head leaning back against Sam’s chest, too exhausted to even lift her head, let alone fight against the spoon being held up to her lips. Not too exhausted to pout. Sam drops her lips to the crown of Tara’s head, unable to fight back a smile. “No,” she agrees softly, “but you’re my baby, babygirl.”

Tara lets out an exaggerated groan at her words, but her body shakes with silent laughter, and she opens her mouth all the same.

~

The weeks pass and Tara heals.

The day she gets her leg cast removed is bittersweet.

The thought of Tara being fully independent again, that she won’t need her anymore, shakes her to her core. What place does she have in her life if she doesn’t need her? Sam’s jolted from her thoughts by her sister leaping onto her back. Tara’s laughter in her ear is the sweetest sound she knows.

The day only gets more bitter when they return home to find their mother is there.

[7gentlemanlysnails]

TW: parental abuse mentions and similar topics

I’m autistic. I always have been, and looking back on my childhood… it was really obvious.

My parents always suspected it, but didn’t do anything to help me. I was expected to act like a “normal” kid, and was punished when I was unable to do so.

A prime example of this- one of the worst textures in the world, at least to me, is meat. Any kind of meat, no matter how it’s cooked. But I had to eat it. I would be forced to sit at the table until I finished it, even if it took hours. I would often puke afterwards and would have sensory meltdowns when I was younger. But I was trained- or rather, forced- to get over my discomfort. I was able to eat meat later in life, but I never liked it and it frequently made me feel sick. When I had a job and had my own money, I asked if I could go vegetarian if I purchased my own food. They said no, and made fun of me for being “weak”.

It didn’t matter what it was… a texture, a smell, a sound, a social situation… I had to deal with it, or face the consequences. Because of this, I have trouble feeling like I’m “really” autistic, and convinced myself that I’m faking it. Because yeah, I don’t like to feel certain textures, or listen to certain noises, but I can usually “grin and bear it”. So I can’t be autistic, at least in my mind.

It’s something I have a lot of trouble coming to terms with. I didn’t know I was autistic until I was 18, and when I excitedly went to tell my mother that it all makes sense now, she simply said “oh, we knew” and left it at that.

I moved out a few months later.

[sparrow-orion-writes]

"navigating around their sensory issues with food while cooking for them without being asked"

This one I thought maybe AprilEmber as well? Though I'm not sure if either of them even has sensory issues with food, so if you have one that fits better feel free to surprise me :0

~ M <3

April hadn't said anything. This in itself is unusual, because April often goes out of his way to never shut up.

Ember couldn't figure it out at first, he'd constantly pick out the onions and frown at them, pushing them out of his way - becoming increasingly frustrated as the meal went on.

At first, Ember thought, he just doesn't like onions.

Except a stray onion found its way into a spoonful of curry and when April took the mouthful, he looked almost ready to cry. His reaction was instantaneous, stiffening as he stood locked to his position, unable to chew or swallow.

"Spit it out," Ember commanded, after a few moments of hardly understanding the situation. April did as he was told.

"Sorry," he whispered, uncharacteristically withdrawn from the ordeal.

"It's fine," Ember shrugged "...There's some cheese in the fridge if you want me to make you a sandwich?"

"No, it's fine, I'll make it myself," there was a weakness to him that felt so wrong, so uncharacteristic, that it made Ember's skin crawl.

So April doesn't like onions, he thought. He couldn't - for the life of him - figure out why on earth April wouldn't just tell him that. But fine, okay, he'll just stop cooking onions. It's no big deal.

Or at least Ember didn't think it was.

He'd made his curry as normal, but with no onions. April had automatically began to sift through the sauce with a frown. After a moment, he looked up at Ember with his eyebrows furrowed. "There's no onions?" He asked.

Ember, who hadn't even thought to mention this, was chewing through his fourth mouthful of food - much of which has splashed on the table in his desperation to eat.

"No, you don't like them," he stated, plainly, going to return to his food.

April seemed stumped by this, fork still in hand as he stared down at his food with a puzzled expression. "But what about you?" His voice was suddenly so quiet that he sounded almost like a child, a lingering sense of fear making its way through his words.

"It's just onions," Ember paused, examining something close to panic on April's face. He put his fork down, and April flinched. "I...I didn't really care about them, but it seemed to upset ya, so..." he trailed off.

"You're not mad?"

"Why th' hell would I be mad? It's just fuckin' onions, April."

"I...I don't know." A small and uncomfortable silence surrounded them. "Onions always freaked me out, they feel like worms, but I had to eat them when I was a kid, my mum used to force them in my mouth and hold my mouth and nose untilI swallowed." A heavy flush crawled up his pale cheeks, hand trembling as he cleared his throat.

"What the fuck?"

"Sorry, I didn't-"

"That's so fucked up, who the fuck would do that to a kid?"

"It's really not-"

"Fuck, I wish you'd told me, that must have been horrible-"

"I'm okay, Em, really-"

"No you're not," Ember shook his head, a firm frown fixed to his face. "You're not okay, and that's not okay, nobody should force you to do anything you don't want to do." His anger is so clear, slicing through the air with the sudden roughness of his words. April sucked in a deep breath. "And you never have to do anything you don't want to here."

April's mouth opened, but all his words, his snark, his humour, simply slipped away from him. In the end, all he could do was nod, and whisper: "thank you."

[sunlightbabe]

GOALS FOR 2023: A (BELATED) END OF MARCH, APRIL, AND MAY CHECK IN

so. super fell off the wagon in all things sksks

MARCH: a bad month, honestly. ate poorly, drank too much, wasn’t nearly as active as i should have been. i was barely sleeping and just felt sort of Off about everything- i started making more mistakes at work too, which was very frustrating because i’m very good at my job, tbh. i hadn’t fully realized it, because part of me did know what was coming, i think, but i was unhappy in my relationship and scared of how things would change in my friend group if (when) i broke up with nick. 

APRIL: first half? a wreck, honestly. i was so anxious about breaking up with my boyfriend that i lost my appetite, i was unable to focus on anything, and my sleep schedule was borderline non-existent. the week after the breakup was also really, really rough, where i was drinking waaaay too much wine. but then the second half of the month? much better. i started going on daily little walks, i started cooking more. i signed up for a membership with an organic food company, i started eating healthier and going to bed by 11 every night. drank less. started to really feel Good about myself ??? most important part, i think, is that i forgave myself for being “bad” during march and april. i’ve been gentle and kind to myself and my mental health is sooo much better for it, holy shit

MAY: still haven’t managed to incorporate daily yoga into my life, but the daily walks have made a huge difference!! if i was unable to go for a walk around the city- bad weather, or my join issues started flaring up- i would do some little stretches and exercises so that i was always doing something every day. well, almost every day ksks. i wrote a bit too!! nothing i can publish yet, all very much wips, but it was good to sit down and get back into writing. i spent more days in may not drinking than drinking, which is a Vast Improvement compared to march and april sksks. mistakes can be made, i just have to focus on living a better and heathier life!!! 

i like to write these blurbs to keep myself Accountable and i’m excited to read all of these at the end of the year so i can keep track of how things went / see where i still need to improve <3

[guessimabasicnerdgirlnow]

Personal dump below

Cw for health issues, fatphobia, ed

I never talked about this to anyone openly and I don’t feel like anyone I have in my life rn would understand it, and I think writing this down may help me cope with it

As you all know, I am autistic and I have food issues that just… it’s bad. Actually when I first read about arfid, I felt for the first time like I was not the only defective human made like this. I’m not sure if what I have is arfid, because I’m 99% it’s an effect of my sensory issues, and idk if it enters the criteria or not. But naming aside, I have a hard time when it comes to food because most of it looks or smells disgusting to me, or just gives me a bad reaction. Used to gag and even throw up just from being forced to sit at a dinner table. I didn’t get an autism diagnosis until a couple years ago so growing up, I got a lot of shit from about everyone I know. No one really gets it, and I didn’t get it either, so I used to believe I deserved it. I will probably forever be unable to look at the faces of some people and not remember the stuff they said to me, or about me, or about my parents who didn’t force me to eat

Really, this is a huge deal for me. It’s a big part of who I am, a part I hated so much for so long and never could change, and that I want to learn to accept. I know now that there’s probably something about my body or my brain that makes stuff not feel the same way as most people and thinking like this makes it feel silly that it was such a big trouble but I used to avoid going to parties and stuff, it together with other stuff made my parents not let me visit my friends and stuff as a kid, and I already have other issues when it comes to creating relationships and it didn’t help at all. I used to believe I could never get married because any husband would want me to cook for him (loool) and that I shouldn’t have children because I couldn’t teach them how to eat healthly, and that I could not pursue my dreams of living abroad because I would be unable to find anything to eat there (I can happily say I got to spend a year in my dream land, and yes, eating was an issue but no, I didn’t starve to death there)

But things can’t be as simple as just me having to learn to accept myself as I am. No. You see, I can only eat a few types of food, mostly breakfast food. Cheese, bread. I eat so many variations of cheese and bread. No meat. No greens. Not much fruit, but then there are other factors here as I can eat some, I just end up not eating much. Whatever you know of Brazilian cuisine is probably a nope for me, which is what makes so many parties very unpleasant for me. I know I don’t eat healthly. Adults told me all the time when I was younger, in an attempt to make me change how I eat. I have never been thin and PE was a nightmare. But as a kid, magically I never had any big health issues. I passed all my blood tests. Doctors hated me /jk

Now that I’m adult things started catching up. This last couple of years studying from home didn’t help, as I stoped walking longer distances than from my bed to the couch. It’s not as bad as it could be, I know, I could be deficient in so many nutrients. I haven’t even had a kidney stone in years. But it scares me. Because the still minor, but unlikely to go away on their own, issues I’m having are all usually related to being overweight, I’m sure my doctor will tell me to diet and exercise and lose weight. I can exercise, I hate it but I can do it, but changing my diet is much more difficult, I just can’t eat a lot of stuff that would be good for me, and because I don’t have many options left I can’t stop eating some stuff that is bed for me. I’m mentally preparing to say it to her because I want her to give me all the options I have, and I don’t want any more thinking that something I didn’t choose and can’t change is my fault, laziness, or me being spoiled, or all those other things I grew up hearing

But what if I’m wrong? What if I can change, and I just read some pieces online and clung to the idea that I can’t because it’s easier? I can’t stop thinking about it, doubting myself

And none of it is the worst. I’m no expert on anything but I think my personal relationship with food entered a new, terrifying chapter. I mentioned living abroad, right? That was my first time away from my parents, who despite their flaws haven’t pressured me into changing for years. I wasn’t fluent in the language, so at first I tagged along some girls from my dorm, and predictably they didn’t understand this stuff and I didn’t understand it enough to explain myself and so every day it was like. They picked a restaurant. There was nothing I ate there. I said I was fine, drank something, bought some snacks somewhere. After a week I was feeling dizzy and realized that couldn’t go on. I managed to prioritize my well being after that but it set a terrible precedent. Once in a while I would buy something new to try and if I couldn’t eat it, I just gave up and stayed hungry. Or I skipped meals because I wanted to save money, or because executive disfunction didn’t let me leave my bed, or I didn’t find anything I could eat. I lost a lot of weight, I have never been thinner (though that was partially due to having no car and walking/taking trains everywhere, which is a good thing that I miss). And I don’t think I was any healthier, because I ate sweets for lunch and bought as sort of snacks as rewards to myself. I think I ate worse, but less and did exercise, and just one of these is a good thing.

Skipping meals has become a thing I go back to sometimes since then. Since I live with my parents, my mother seems to have noticed, so she makes sure to ask me what I ate, or even leave food ready for me. I have lied before. Or not corrected her when she assumes I ate. Last week she jokingly asked to see a picture. I have also pretended to be sick to skip meals. I’m not sure why all this. Sometimes it’s executive disfunction I guess. I do eat more when she leaves stuff ready for me than when I have to prepare it myself. Sometimes nothing seems good. I have had body image issues at some points of my life, of course, and I would be lying if I said I am happy about my body rn (it bothers me a lot when clothes don’t fit anymore) but I don’t think a lot about my appearance because. You know it’s not like I look at myself often. My relationship with my appearance *is* another can of worms, so I just try not to think about it. And tbh sometimes I eat stuff that I don’t even like, but that I’m glad that is at least edible (compared to most things) so I just suck it up and eat. My “yes” list is very small and my “nope” list is huge, so when something falls on “maybe” I treat it like a yes. But I don’t like the stuff, and I think sometimes I want to avoid eating it so I don’t eat anything. I still didn’t figure out if I may be doing it sometimes to hurt myself somehow.

I’m afraid of getting worse because I found out the issue in the exam I did today, and I felt guilty about eating anything after learning it

I’m afraid of doing nothing and those health issues getting worse, and I’m afraid of taking the wrong approach and ending up with some eating disorder. I am afraid into turning this into something about being fat or thin and mixing it with the issues I already have with my appearance. I am afraid of the fact that I can’t eat healthly, I may be able to do better than what I’m doing but I don’t think it will ever be good, and I hate it so much that I’m afraid it will turn into me hating myself (more than I usually do for other reasons). I am currently treating my depression and I am doing better than when I started but I am afraid of all this shit sending me into a downward spiral. I have had days in which I thought about suicide, it never escalated to more than just thoughts, but even just that is something I don’t want to face again

Wow, that’s a lot. If anyone read it so far, thank you for your time and care. Don’t feel obligated to reach out to me. I wrote this as a way of figuring my own feelings and to try and make it easier to bring my concerns to my doctor, my therapist, and maybe my mother. Like I said I am treating my depression and rationally I know that even if it gets worse, there’s no reason to believe we can’t make it better again. Also, my parents, and everyone really, even those who used to say mean stuff to and about me, everyone is much more supportive now that I have an autism diagnosis. They didn’t know any better when they said those things, and neither did I. Yes, it still hurt, it still does hurt, but I sincerely believe their views on me changed with the diagnosis and that they realized things they didn’t know. And with the knowledge I have now, I can educate them on it too. You know, I used to be so ashamed of touching this subject and look at me now, posting on my blog. I can make jokes about my restricted diet and my sensory issues and it doesn’t hurt anymore because I know that I am not a defective human.

(This last paragraph was so important to write. To remind me that no matter how scared I am, I am not alone and I am not helpless. I think I am doing well in learning the therapy mindset 🧐)

[cyanlastride]

the colorado kid has torn through my mind over the past several hours

i was scrolling through tv shows i could watch when i saw haven. my parents watched haven when i was younger, and i remember bits and pieces of it. i was surprised, however, to see stephen king mentioned in the show summary. i read my first king book, the gunslinger, long after my parents finished haven, and before the gunslinger i really had no interest in king. now, even though ive still only read a handful of his books besides the dark tower, i jump every time i see his name, or anything nineteen.

i watched the first episode of haven with intent for the first time, and after something like 6 ad breaks decided that tv was not worth my time. also, though the show was interesting it didnt feel like king, other than it being set in maine. obviously i am no expert of what does and does not feel like king as i swore that donnie darko was a king adaptation when i watched it recently, but whatever. a quick wikipedia search confirms that only the setting and the idea of the colorado kid are king-inspired, along with a couple of references to stuff like IT. still havent read or watched IT. at the end of the day im a dark tower fan, not a king-horror fan, and surprisingly the fanbases have relatively small overlap. anyways, while im on wikipedia, i decide to quickly check out the colorado kid page.

and of course, my eyes immediately spy out the words dark tower.

"The review of The Colorado Kid in today’s issue of today's USA Today mentions that there was no Starbucks in Denver in 1980. Don’t assume that’s a mistake on my part. The constant readers of the Dark Tower series may realize that is not necessarily a continuity error, but a clue."

and just like that, im hooked. you see, im the type of nerd that grinned like a fool when i noticed the name of the bus company in the dr sleep movie. i love finding the little references and connections to the dark tower, so much so that the entire reason why i bought and read fairy tale was because i thought the staircase on the cover looked like the eye of the crimson king. the dark tower reference ending up being much more mundane in that book, but i still enjoyed myself.

so i wasnt able to sleep because i want to find my special little dark tower easter egg just for me oh boy oh boy, and now ive spent at least that last 4 hours starting and finishing the colorado kid which has left me unable to sleep because i cannot stop trying to come up with theories and trying to figure out how the fuck a starbucks existing in denver in 1980 when the first one didnt open there until 1992 on our/kings(?) level of the tower has any fucking relevance to the colorado kid who we already know exists on a different level of the tower to kings level because im assuming the forwards/afterwards are canon like they are in the dark tower books.

also, completely separate to the dark tower relevancy discussion, my main question about the colorado kid is as follows: where the hell did he get the steak from? either my man has been carrying around a cooked steak in his suit all day including into the fish n chip place, or he got it somewhere presumably after the ferry, so on the island? there cant be that many places that serve steak on the island, and with how the setting is described i find it unlikely they wouldnt be able to track down a witness who remembers an out of towner ordering a steak to go. so he was most likely given that steak by someone, someone who knew him well enough to want to give him a steak to eat with his bare fucking hands and then either purposefully doesnt speak up when he is found dead or never finds out about his death. im also willing to bet that the mysterious steak-bearing stranger saw and moved the colorado kid after he choked, because seriously if you were sitting enjoying some steak on the beach cuddled up with a trashcan one why are you rawdogging your steak next to a trashcan two when you start choking are you not going to attempt to stand, or lean over, perhaps over the trashcan, to attempt to choke out your steakbit? let gravity do some of the work, and right into the appropriate receptacle no less? like seriously my man mustve been going through something when he started choking on his steak he just sat there chilling, completely unbothered. if he was in any normal "ohgodhelpmeimchokingtodeath" position when he died he shouldve been face first in the sand. so yeah the colorado kid one hundred percent met with someone who gave him a steak, watched him choke on it, and then sat him up against a trashcan and just left.

maybe it was one of the furries or vampires or whatever. they were having some sort of fancy dinner when jake and callahan showed up, right? was that steak or human? also i seem to remember their little "come watch the humans fuck up their world lol hehe 9/11" teleport door hallway having something to do with russian currency, not sure what the connection is there but my brain seems to think theres something.

last thoughts before i give up for the night: not bothering to factcheck this but i think the dark tower series was completed in 04 and this book's afterward was dated 05 so the whole of the tower is potential context here. also the stand is one of the few other king books ive read and i think boulder colorado is important there too? its either the target city for the good survivors or the place where the sheriff comes from, i think? or maybe its the city the katet passes through in wizard and glass? i dont remember anymore my memory is awful and its late. if the kid ever went todash we at least know he started and ended on the same level of the tower cuz of his wife. the starbucks thing is bothering me too, like why is it significant that hes on another level of the tower, and one thats so similar to our own like they have starbucks during the cold war but with the way they talk about airplane regulations im assuming 9/11 still happened so it cant be that different. im starting to think that king just said that to turn people who were miffed about colorado kid onto the dark tower to increase sales or something but he posted this on his blahag so like i really doubt that.

im boutta pass out, damn you king, damn you colorado kid

[imgettingbetternow]

My story

How did I get so heavy? How could someone let themself go so bad?

Well, it's a combination of reasons, excuses, and trial and error.

My lowest weight as an athlete was 120lbs. I had a lot of muscle weight and my chest is naturally large. I maintained this weight for *years*. I played every sport you can really imagine, but my main sports were skiing, swimming, fast pitch softball, weightlifting, and I was well known in track and field circles. I wanted more than anything to be an olympic athlete, and I got close many times. I pushed myself harder and harder, and I began to get stupid.

I wasn't taking care of my body. I was eating well, a little too well, and I wasn't listening to how much pain I was in. Until I began to sustain multiple injuries back to back. A cliff dive when a snowboarder ran over my skis ruined my back, bad slides into first ruined my knees, and I wasn't being nearly as careful as I should have been weight lifting.

Eventually, I had to drop out all together because of the toll all of the activity was having on my body.

Then, my father died suddenly. This led to a total spiral with my mental health, and I began eating the way others in my family were because I no longer had the energy or drive to cook good meals for myself. I had just started working at fifteen at the local taco bell, and my eating just began to spiral out of control. I was hungry all the time after years of what felt like starving myself, and in all honesty I probably was. Suddenly, I wanted every food I had deprived myself of.

The weight gain was sudden and not at all welcome. But at this point, the addiction to sugar and salty, cheesy carbs had sunk its claws deep into me. I couldn't give it up. So I gained, and movement became harder, my memory began to decline, I was getting sick all the time. All. The. Time. I dropped out of high school my freshman year because of how bad it had all gotten.

With a move to a different family member's home, I was back on track, though. A new level of poverty introduced itself to my life, and it was suddenly very easy not to eat. My family member is a severe alcoholic in unspeakable amounts of debt, and is an ex long term convict on multiple counts of various different things. Her husband, however, did his best to bring home what he could to feed us. For several years, I played sports with him. I got back into school and my life was back on track. Eventually, though, the situation became too dangerous, and I was placed back with my original guardian.

Her response was to send me off to a boarding school until I was an adult, where I faced unspeakable horrors in the depths of the Montana mountains, unable to speak to friends or family aside from my appointed guardian once a week.

At least here it was easy to keep the weight off. We would walk miles every day, building horse fences and doing whatever landscaping and latrine digout labor they demanded of us. I was constantly being worked out, and my body was constantly in pain. The food lacked nutrition and bulk altogether, staff routinely helping themselves to whatever servings they wanted.

My 18th birthday was spent in the hospital recovering from an attack from a staff member, and I was finally brought home. I was a mental and emotional wreck. My hair was falling out, we eventually just shaved it, and I was searching for comfort wherever I could find it.

This ended up once again being food.

Over the next two years, I'd battle homelessness and unsafe craigslist housing, food always either in scarcity or excess.

I'm almost 22 now, and two years ago, I hit my highest weight.

I was on various different types of medication, my body was likely rebounding from the starvation, but I also wasn't taking care of myself. I wasn't eating healthy, I wanted to shove everything I had again been denied down my throat.

I got to a breaking point when it started getting hard for me to shower. I knew I needed a change when coming from the car to the house was a challenge.

So, I enrolled myself in college, prepared to move several states away to be closer to some good family, and I moved.

As soon as I tried to change my life and my habits, the sickness started. I was throwing up multiple times a day every day, bedridden and largely unable to do anything but sit in bed and focus on my online classes and my remote job. But over time, with little changes and big changes in my life, I cut out the toxic people and toxic behaviors and managed to cut down 30lbs despite truly being unable to move much.

The next year, my partner and I moved to a different state again to pursue a few things, and through healthier eating and as much exercise as I could manage, I lost another 30lbs. It wasn't as much progress as I wanted to see, but at this point, rather than being bound sick to the bed, I was able to routinely walk around large areas.

Now, we've moved again to our final state, and I've started making a lot of changes up to this point in the year. I've been meal prepping and practicing mild intuitive eating, and now that we're all settled and moved in, I'm going to start taking walks every day and documenting what I eat and how I exercise and add goals and all that fun stuff.

I think once I lose a little more weight I'll start to post some progress pictures, I even have a workout outfit I want to routinely take photos in to show the weight loss over time.

This is not an ana blog, but I don't really care if ana blogs interact, just be kind. We're all on a journey, and I'm excited to be here and start to truly be accountable for getting my body into its prime stage.

Everyone has a right to see their body at its peak performance, especially coupled with genuine drive that comes from within.

I'm here to get better.

It will get better.