#i can think myself into a suicidal spiral in a second

[tamagotchikgs]

really though my like object permanence for emotions is nonexistent if i am not actively feeling it i might as well never have and it they r active they r . So much . they take over me completely. 2 the point even happiness feels painful but in a good way i think,, but i will go from like. reduced 2 just wirthing ripping out my heart i am in agony everything has always been & will always be agony to oh, everything is great :] 1 lil thing flipped me upside down n now the world has always been this colourful i cant imagine anything else and then OU,,,,, crying sobbing pain anguish joy doesnt exist. all within the span of like. 10 mins. but it feels so much longer my brain is living in a whole different world. also it is not only painful 4 me but also a big issue when it comes to bad things happening irl, because like. say when my pet rat died, i was fucking inconsolable but then , Fine. it was over. n it feels so bad i feel so guilty i cant hold onto anything for the amount of time i should everything is just in n out n in n out clock in extreme pain clock out clock in extreme joy clock out for no apparent reason

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.2

The thing is Paul just physically can't say what he feels. It's just an impossibility for him. So if he says reading a negative article about himself “doesn't help” or “it's not good” but it “doesn't get home” I just assume he means ‘It hurts, but I can't think about that too hard or I'll go into a self-hate suicidal spiral again’. 

I always love how Paul says Linda. “Linder is er, nature mad.” 

She!!

Hearing Paul talk about watching Mary be born makes me wonder if John was there with Sean? Also I wonder if Linda would talk about the experience so glowingly. Probably. She's tough as nails. I had a lovely experience, personally, after the epidural lol

“Dear friend . . . I'm in love with a friend of mine.” This is such a strange and beautiful song. It's a man who has to apologize to his friend for falling in love with someone else. At least, that's my interpretation. What's everyone else's?

I understand why he's so closed off. I do. But when John is going off every five seconds, we're missing half the picture here and it's turning out warped. They really are such a good study of attachment honestly.

“Nothing will ever break the love we have for each other.” White-knuckling my way through this section with this quote clenched in my fist.

Yoko, talking about John fighting with Paul: any couple will go from swearing to kissing and it's like that. What favors are you doing yourself here, babe? Maybe John's the PR mastermind between the two of them.

I find John's comparison of working with his romantic partner to being ambidextrous very confusing. Does he mean just doing two things at once?

“If I can't have a fight with my best friend, I don't know who I can have a fight with.” -- Intro slutty gender-fluid Wings Paul my beloved -- “Tell me why, why, why do you treat me so bad? So bad? When you're the best friend a man ever had?” I heard on some podcast somewhere. Someone was going on about how forward-thinking the Beatles were to refer to the women in their songs as “friends”. And I was like, nununununu do not give them that credit.

This is just soooo. In this era? 90 minutes in the middle of a recording session?

John: Sorry, my estranged fiance is calling, gotta take a break. Guitarist: again? Drummer: how estranged can they be if they call every three minutes? Yoko: should we just record the other parts or . . . John: (receiver cradled to his cheek, lovesick grin on his face) Hey, how was Heather's school program? Haha, yeah, I bet she was.

Okay, so you've made up with Paul and now you're done being homophobic? *Cardi b voice* well that's suspicious. 

The fact that John's asking Paul to play on stage with him in 1972?? Ugh! If it was just about legalities and money and shit I would be genuinely so pissed at Paul for not going. If only because Come Together sounds incredibly lame without his bass and piano. But also for the obvious fix-it reasons. I have to remind myself of how truly awful Klein was. By being the only one to stand firm against him, Paul actually ended up saving them all from a lot of trouble. But gosh would this have been good!

Things normal people say, for sure, for sure.

Okay in my head it went like this. John calls George and bitches about what an egomaniac Paul is because he won't do anything with him as long as Klein is involved. George gets off the phone and calls Ringo and they make a bet as to how long it is until John decides they should get rid of Klein. 

“Where's your audience, Paul?” “In the theater, Dave.” As he should. The cuntiness is unparalleled. Yeah, maybe people like to see a family friendly eclectic magic pixie sexy hard rock floor show? Ever thought about that, Dave?

Anyway, he seems genuinely pissed when the interviewer even mentions the other Beatles and he refuses to even admit he still talks to any of them. Why? 

John's just so benevolent and selfless. He's completely straight, of course, but he's always offering to do gay shit. You know. To be nice. 

I forget that not only was May their literal employee, but she was ten years younger on top of that. And yet, she managed to do so much good in that relationship. I have so much respect for her. 

There's obviously a lot going on behind the scenes that they don't say in interviews. Duh. But I wonder what it is that caused Paul to be so open and happy in this interview where he's asked about the other Beatles compared to before. I wonder if he and John had a really lovely talk, or if he's heard a demo of “I know, I know.” Or maybe it's just he's so reassured that they've got rid of Klein that he feels safe acting open to a reunion on record. Who knows, Yoko. 

So so smart to pair “In My Life” handwritten lyrics with the matching lyrics of “I know I know” playing at the same time. I forget about that connection (“I love you more”) because it's so overshadowed by the “than yesterday” right after. I seriously wonder if John thought he was being so obvious with this one the way he was with HDYS and half hoped people would ask him if it was about Paul and he could make up for the whole thing. Because it's just so heavy-handed. It's beautiful. I love it. I'm sure Paul loved it. But yeah. John's just beating us over the head with the references here. 

I also wonder (very tentatively!!!) if Paul was maybe a bit more emotionally vulnerable with John than we usually think. I would never think this except for the “you know I nearly broke down and cried” “I'm sorry that I made you cry” and “no more crying!” I don't know. What do we think? 

His little baby smirk. It's so silly and cute. He's being very positive about getting back together, and the interviewer asks if John would initiate that. Just a very coy, “a, well, I couldn't say.” I wonder if at that point if he'd said on live tv that he wanted to get together again if it would've happened. Seems like it might have, but I understand him being scared. 

Elton John taking pictures like a fan and John: I wanna impound all those photos till I get me green card. What a random idea for a commercial. I love it, obviously, it's hilarious. I wonder who thought of it. 

This doc is so good at implication. The smirk as “loving in the palm of my hand” plays. That's not a reference to hand jobs, is it? Certainly not talking to someone with beautiful hands?

Everyone go look up Nineteen Hundred Eighty Five on YouTube. The singing sex is something else, yeah, but I'm always so blown away by the piano part. The fact that he's self taught and doesn't read music and this man will go on to compose symphonies. 

[defectivehero]

warnings: suicidal ideation, conversations about death and morality, blood & violence

The hero looks out into the faces of strangers gathered around the coffin and takes a deep breath. The effort isn't easy, and it takes a few moments for them to calm their racing heart rate. This is all an act, they remind themself. It's all just an act—a farce, a trick, whatever one wants to call it.

When the agency had offered an olive branch to the villain, the hero's enemy, the hero didn't know what to think. They thought their agency was misguided—or, more likely, desperate—to attempt a truce with the villain. The hero knew their enemy well enough to know that a promise of peace wouldn't be sufficient enough to guarantee the city's safety.

Yet here they are, standing over their enemy's elegant black coffin. The agency had spared no expense in maintaining the act, it seemed. Beside the coffin is a photograph of the villain—one from their civilian life. And next to it stands the hero, who was chosen to speak at the funeral—to pose as a grieving friend. They initially opposed the idea, but eventually agreed upon realizing the charade was necessary to maintain the façade.

For this fake funeral to work, the hero had to learn about the villain. They learned more than they would have ever hoped to know—everything from the villain's upbringing to the circumstances behind their second job. The hero had studied up on Jordan: the person behind the villainous mask. Yet, as the hero stands over the villain's coffin, they can't help but think that they didn't prepare enough.

"Jordan was a close friend," the hero begins. The air is silent around them and the weary afternoon sun casts shadows across the malnourished grass. "A sibling to some, a coworker to others." The hero adds. They're doing well so far, they think. Out of the corner of their eyes, as they continue speaking, they can see nods of agreement.

The hero can't quite register what they're saying, as the words begin to escape them. They launch into a fake anecdote of sorts and their focus slips elsewhere. Their fists are clenched at their sides and their eyes refuse to leave the ornate coffin marring the center of their vision with a blackened smudge. They come back to themself at the end of the anecdote, recognizing that they need to find some way to wrap it all up neatly. (They need some way to finish this, please-)

"I can't imagine what my life would have been like without them," the hero realizes aloud. Indeed, their life would be very different if they had never met the villain. The hero glances at the coffin and a shiver runs down their spine. "And now that they're gone..." Their voice cracks at the end of that statement. Their eyes are unwittingly drawn to to the tree in the distance—where they know the villain to be hiding. Their enemy has enhanced hearing, and the hero knows they will be listening with rapt attention. The hero tries to focus on something else, but their thoughts continue to spiral.

The hero sees the villain's dead body sprawled across the pavement... They see dried blood stains sinking into the cement, the only sign of their enemy's existence... They see an empty glaze to the villain's normally bright eyes...

The hero sees themself waking up in the middle of the night and moving to the sink mechanically to wash the unseen blood from their hands, as they grow accustomed to nightmares where the villain revisits them... The hero sees themself slowly fading away into obscurity, their morality teetering on the precipice of something darker...

Someone in the crowd coughs, jerking the hero from their thoughts. They remember themself. "Now that they're gone..." The hero resumes, "...I don't know what to do with myself." Their throat is burning. They turn their head to the side and blink tears from their eyes, before taking a deep breath. With a shaky breath, they step away from the coffin and walk away from the funeral.

The hero would have walked straight past the villain, if not for the sudden grip on their arm. The villain tugs them off their predestined path and pulls them behind the cover of the conveniently large tree.

"Bravo," the villain says. It's only then that the hero allows themself to look up from the ground and meet their enemy's gaze. They're surprised to find the amused glimmer in the villain's eyes, the playful smile on their face. "That was rather convincing. Perhaps you should pursue acting."

"I-" I don't think I was acting, the hero thinks to themself. Imagining life without you genuinely made me feel... empty. "Ha, yeah." Their voice sounds off and the villain raises an eyebrow. There are a few moments of silence, but their enemy mercifully does not poke or prod at the subject any further.

"So," the villain drawls, burrowing their hands in their jacket pockets. The hero envies their collectedness and composure in this moment, but also worries for how unaffected they are despite it all. "I'm dead now."

"You're not dead," the hero feels the need to say. They're not sure who exactly that remark is meant for, but they have a feeling they uttered it to remind themself of the truth.

"Legally, I am," the villain points out. They cross their arms over their chest. "It's kind of freeing, in a way. Maybe I should pursue death as a long-term solution to all of my problems."

The hero's stomach lurches and everything around them seems to fall to silence. "Stop." They don't realize they've spoken until they see the villain's mask shudder around them, their eyes momentarily widening before returning to an expression of uncaring. "Stop it," the hero repeats, "I- Don't joke about something like that."

The villain regards them with interest. "Who says I'm joking?" They ask, nothing but sincerity in their voice. The hero is hit with a wave of nausea.

"That's- Please just- It's not funny. It never was." The words are crawling from their lips entirely of their own volition.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," the villain says softly, their voice almost a whisper. They're telling the truth, the hero realizes. And something in the hero just breaks. The frail string they had been hanging from simply... snaps.

"I don't want you to die," the hero finally chokes out. "Okay?" Is that what you wanted to hear—what you were trying to coax out of me? Well, I've said it. How fucking pathetic I must be, for caring."

"I wasn't acting. It was all real—real to me. I tried to imagine my life without you and I couldn't.

"I'm sorry," the hero spits, their hands shaking now. Tears are falling down their face now, blurring their vision. They feel deeply humiliated and embarrassed, especially in the wake of the villain's callous and uncaring gaze.

When they turn to leave, they don't expect a hand to fall onto their shoulder—and the hero certainly doesn't expect to be pulled into an embrace. The villain's arms wrap around them and the hero instinctively returns the gesture. Even if this is a trick, or some convoluted way to make them feel even more ashamed, they take comfort in the visceral feeling of the villain's touch and the physical confirmation that they're still alive.

"Don't apologize," the villain says, placing a hand on the nape of the hero's neck and hugging them tighter. The hero closes their eyes and leans into their enemy's shoulder. "I... I'm sorry for being so morbid." They say, an uncharacteristic depth of emotion present in their voice.

"I don't want you to die," the hero whispers into the villain's shoulder. It's a remark meant for only themself, yet their enemy hears it anyway. The villain stiffens for a moment, their shoulders tightening, before they grasp the hero with dueling tenderness and strength. Suddenly, the villain's hands are on their cheeks as the hero is pulled back to look at their enemy. The villain's gaze is determined and entirely honest.

"Then I won't die," the villain asserts. "Simple as that."

The hero knows it's illogical, knows that the villain will have to die some day—as everyone does. But the conviction in their enemy's voice is enough to dissuade them. The villain's grip is reassuring enough, real enough for the hero to breathe again.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. reblogs are appreciated, just please don't steal my writing or share outside of Tumblr.

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[det-loki]

the unraveling (poison and wine blurb)

detective loki x reader

tw: blood, vomit, gore, angst, suicide ideation.

POISON AND WINE MASTERLIST

The air was still stinging with gunpowder, the buzz still in your ears. You watched the man drop above you, watched as blood began to pool. The sudden disappearance of his weight on top of you sent air crashing into your lungs, too soon it hurt.

You hauled yourself to your feel, snot and blood dribbling down your face, your brain buzzing as you targeted Loki, who had just now lowered his gun, eyes blown. Your throat was raw before you even began screaming, "You motherfucker! Why did you shoot? Huh? We had him! I had him! You fucking shot him!"

Your finger jabbed into Loki's chest like a knife, your face hot and angry, veins threatening to burst, "We had him! He was talking! He was telling me where she was. I had her. I had her! You motherfucker!"

Loki took your words silently, unmoving and stoic. He let you scream at him, poke him, demean him. He could see the suspect over your shoulder laying on the floor, the pool of blood getting larger and darker. It's when you started babbling and choking on your words that he stopped you. You weren't an angry detective anymore, you were spiraling into chaos, a broken mother.

Loki took your shoulders into his hands, leaning to meet your eyes, bring you back down to earth, "Hey, Hey. Stop. Stop. You need to stop. I know, okay. I know. Stop."

Pained sobs ripped through you, heaving and fighting for purchase in your bones, "No. She's gone now. Gone! You fucking shot the only guy that knew where she was! I had him. I had him and you didn't trust me. You don't trust me anymore."

"I do trust you. He was on top of you, with a gun pointed at your head. Do you not remember that?" Loki hardened his grip around your arms, blunt nails digging into the back of your blood soaked arms.

You shook your head wildly, "You don't trust me. You don't. You watch my every move, you never let me do my job. You're breathing down my fucking neck! Ever since Mag- ever since her, you don't fucking trust me. I was gone for a second. A second. I hate myself. Loki. I hate myself. I could have found her, if you had let me go. We can find this little girl."

He was going to kill you! I do fucking trust you, don't you ever say that I don't again! I don't blame you for what happened, I never have and I never will. You're the only one that thinks that. You blame yourself. But he was going to kill you today"

"You should have let him."

"What?" Your words felt like a punch to the gut for Loki. You were the ratty girl he met at the fence line of the Huntington Boy's Home, the one who stole menthol cigarettes for him. You, who held him when it all go to be too much, the debilitating panic attacks that had him on his knees as he prayed, begged and pleaded to a God he didn't believe in. You were his salvation. You were the mother of his child.

You swallowed hard, a sudden calm, "You should have let him kill me. Let me go. Let me with her. I deserve to be with her. I'm her mother."

Police deputies flooded the scene, a paramedic turning you away from Loki to examine you. Harsh reality returned as you were escorted to an ambulance, passing Loki who was giving his statement on what had just occurred. The kidnapped girl was found that evening, returned safe to her family before you were even discharged from the hospital.

You were on administrative leave for two weeks. Loki was on sick leave for eight days, watching you sleep, making you food and unraveling every gnarled, knotted thread in your head that threatened to take you from him. He held you as you screamed and cried into his shirt, held back your hair when the guilt became too much, your stomach rolling in waves of vomit and nasuea. You shook in your sleep, Loki always having a steady hand on your back and you tossed and turned.

You were Loki's salvation and he was your prayer.

[chasingfictions]

lottie telling everyone why their life is fucked up directly in the second person but when it comes to nat’s suicide attempt she can only use third person … it’s giving lottienat two halves of a whole it’s giving well if she uses you for nat that also on some level means i . If she uses you she has to think about the fact that what she’s proposing is her own suicide attempt. and then the logic would unravel and she can’t do that . lottienat “you never talk shit unless someone really deserves it” + the affection of “you talking shit? you little bitch” and the first moment setting up their paradigm of ethics and honesty and the second calling back to their intimacy with each other. but in this moment it’s “not gonna solve shit with talking, nat” — it’s about lottie being untruthful to herself which is the same as being untruthful to nat. nat’s given full honesty and vulnerability since she arrived but lottie hasn’t been able to do the same — she didn’t tell the full story about travis’ death whereas the trust they built allowed nat to tell the full story about her near death experience with travis that led to his death. lottie is clinging to be the healer so she won’t have to be vulnerable. lottie and nat expressing what the other cant or wont in a given moment, expressing the opposition that makes the other into a fully realized being, by making them exist in relation. “not gonna solve shit with talking” means please don’t make me talk please just let me spiral please just let me help you instead of helping myself please let me forget I have a self. but nat always sees lottie as a girl and not a god a woman and not a prophet a friend lover enemy teammate family member and not a leader. lottie knows that by even being in a room with nat she is opening herself up to being Seen. to being judged and perceived and called out. nat who yells at lottie in the wilderness for her perceived harm. nat who in the present notices lottie’s wounded hand. nat who has threatened lottie’s life and expressed a wish for the end of lottie’s life and who is here now trying to find a way to keep living by lottie’s side. what is she so afraid of, what is Lottie so terrified of if she says you here. Is it the vulnerability . is it that nat will see her wanting to die and will say sure go ahead. is it that she’s afraid nat will see her as a god and not a girl. Lottie wants to be seen as a priestess and she takes comfort in it, and also she craves to be seen, and if she lets nat in she risks the possibility that nat will see her as a person, whcih she can’t allow from anyone, or as a god, which she can’t allow from nat. so she has to stay the healer. she has to stay distant. she can’t let nat in because that would let nat know how much lottie needs her. and lottie has bought into the godlike persona that she shouldn’t have needs .

she can’t say you because then what if nat doesn’t say you back. and what if nat Does. GIRLS WHEN THEIR SELFHOOD CAN BE AFFIRMED OR DENIED BY THE OTHER!! GIRLS WHEN TO EXIST IS TO BE SEEN!! GIRLS WHEN THE MORTIFYING ORDEAL OF BEING KNOWN. Lottie wants to stay shroedinger’s god but nat said open the box and let me love you already

[cherrycola27]

Last Hurrah

Warnings: GUYS this is a heavy fic. I'm serious Minors DNI, 18+. Language, drinking. Mentions of head injury. Trigger Warning! Suicidal thoughts and actions

Pairing Rooster x Reader (Call Sign Juliet)

...................................................................................................

Part 1: In fair Fightertown where we lay our scene

For most people, when their life comes crashing down, they never saw it coming. They are the lucky ones. But for me, the whole thing played out infront of me in a series of scenes straight out a Shakespearean tragedy. How ironic really.

The first act came when watched my fiancée Rooster Bradshaw eject from his plane before it crashed into the side of a mountain.

The second came with the news that he had a head injury.

And the third, the final nail in my coffin, the dagger through the heart, was that when he woke up, he had no memory of who I was or our relationship over the past eighteen months. How very Nicholas Sparks.

All that happened six months and seventeen days ago. And for those six months and seventeen days, I, as well as every other member of the Dagger Squad family had been desperately trying to get him to remember me, to remember us, to remember the love we had, but nothing worked.

About a month ago I realized that there was little chance of Rooster ever remembering who I was, so I started making calls.

Do you know what it's like to have to explain to a baker, a venue owner, a photographer, a wedding coordinator, as well as sixty of you closest friends and family that you had to cancel your wedding because partner doesn't remember who you are? Because I do, and let me tell you, it sucks.

What might be worse is that for the past six months and seventeen days I have spent every night, crying myself to sleep, alone in the bed that we once shared.

For the past half a year I've felt as if I'm watching my life go by in slow motion. The world is moving forward without me. Rooster has gotten better for the most part, but he still doesn't know who I am. It kills me to see him happy, smiling, laughing, living without me.

And every time I see a girl flirt with him, the knife pushes futher into my chest. It isn't fair. I should be happy for him, happy that he is alive. But I'm not. Maybe it's horrible of me to think that way, but it's cruel that he is living carefree and smiling, while I'm a shell of the woman I once was.

Everyone has tried to help, but they know it's useless. Rooster and I are... friends... at best. But how can you be just friends with the person who six months ago promised you forever.

He is the one who almost died, yet I'm the one who did.

I'm not really living anymore, I'm just going through the motions. I get up, go to work, fly my plane, get a drink at the Hard Deck, go home, cry myself to sleep, and do it all again the next day.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Rooster was the Romeo to my Juliet... a running joke with my call sign after we started dating.

Maybe it's karma for having Juliet as a call sign or maybe God has a sick sense of humor. Either way... I'm starting to think she was right... if you can't have the person you love in your life, is it really worth living?

"Hi there." A male voice snaps me out of my spiral. "You're Juliet right? I'm Dodger. I've seen you here a couple times, and I noticed you're glass is empty. Can I get you another drink?" He asks. I look him over. Dodger, I've seen him a few times. He is a bit younger than me and I probably out rank him. He is bad to look at, but he isn't Rooster. He hasn't been around long enough to know our history, and it's not like I wore your engagement ring anymore.

It felt wrong having a man give you attention, but Rooster got plenty from the girls...

I spent about an hour talking to Dodger. He flirted with me relentlessly, and honestly it felt good to have someone pay me attention, then before I even realized it, I had invited him home.

I made it as far as the couch before I stopped him. It felt wrong to let another man touch me, kiss me, let alone try to fuck me on the very couch Rooster had taken meu many times.

I mentally kicked myself that night after he left. I wasn't doing anything wrong— or was I? Everything seemed so unclear. I hadn't slept with anyone since Rooster's accident, I wondered if he had.

As the days drug on you found yourself slipping away more. You were short, angry, mean, bitter to those around you. You spent your days going through the motions and your nights crying or drinking away the pain.

And then, one Wednesday morning for no reason in particular the perfect plan hit you. That morning, you were asked to come in Friday night for some test flights. And that's when the realization hit you.

You were much happier the rest of the day. Thursday you smiled for the first time in ages, and we Friday came around, you were more than excited to go out.

Everyone commented how you seemed like your old self again.

You had a couple drinks at the Hard Deck but not too many because you did have to fly later that evening. You sang karaoke with Phoenix, danced without a care in the world, and even beat Hangman in a game of darts.

After a while you got hot and decided to step out on the deck for some air. You smiled knowing your friends would have a happy moment to remember you by.

You must have been out there longer than you thought because Jake came to check on you.

"Hey Jules, you okay?" He asked.

"I'm great Jake. You know I've been so lucky to have had you and everyone as friends. Rooster has been too. Make sure you watch out for him for me." You smiled as you hugged him.

"Well, I'm off to do a test flight. Goodbye Jake." You smiled with a tear in your eye.

You said your goodbyes to everyone else, save for Rooster. It hurt too much. Then you made your way to your car. You looked back at the Hard Deck one final time before putting it in gear and driving away.

You were gone for maybe five minutes before the wheels turned in Jake's head. He quickly found Phoenix. "Nat, I know I sound crazy but I think Juliet is going to hurt herself." He told her.

"What do you mean? She was fine when she left." Nat looked confused.

"That's the thing. She was a mess two days ago then all of a sudden she flips. They say that happens a lot when people decide to— and when were on deck she said she was lucky to have had us as friends and she asked me to watch out for Rooster for her. I know I sound crazy but Nat, I'm worried about her... she's supposed to do some test flying tonight... what if she..." Jake trailed off.

"You don't think she would? Do you?" Phoenix asked stunned.

"Phoenix her whole life fell apart. The person she is in love with doesn't know who she is. That's enough go make even the most sane person do something crazy." Jake said.

"Oh my God we have to do something." Phoenix said.

She and Jake quickly gathered everyone and explained the situation. Jake desperately tried to literally smack the memories back into Rooster with no success. Leaving them no other options the crew piled into the Bronco and Coyote's Jeep and raced to the air field.

Juliet took her time with her preflight checks, if it was going to be her last, she wanted to savor it.

Once she deemed everything perfect she placed her helmet on her head and climbed in the cockpit ready for take off.

"Mav you have to stop the training Juliet is going to hurt herself or worse!" Bob screamed into the phone while Jake drove. Phoenix was still trying to explain to Rooster what was going on but he was clueless.

There is no telling how many traffic laws Jake broke as he drove, but he didn't care.

Without warning, he hit a pot whole and a photo fell from the visor into Rooster's lap, and like lightning, every came back to him.

"Jake, where's Juliet, and why are you driving my car?" He asked.

"You know who Juliet is?" Phoenix asked leaning forward.

"Yes why wouldn't I?" Rooster asked. There was a collective sigh of relief, but then panic set in. Phoenix and Bob explained to him what happened and Rooster was in a panic.

Minutes later they pulled into base and jumped from the car, running to range control.

Mav had informed them that he couldn't get ahold of them. It was a race against the clock.

Juliet took a deep breath as she flew, she admired the sunset over the mountain peaks.

She took in the beautiful colors all around her, up here her problems seemed so small. She looked on her dash at the photo of her and Rooster. She grabbed her chain that held her dog tags and her engagement ring. She gripped them tight in her hand as she pulled the nose of her plane into a steep climb. Her goal was to send herself into GLOC so she wouldn't feel any pain.

She ignored the calls of the range control officers telling her to level out. She didn't hear the sounds of her friends bursting in the room yelling for her.

She tried to keep her breath even as she felt the g-forces pressing on her body, and then right before the blackness took over, she heard Rooster's voice calling out to her.

"JULIET!" He screamed over the comms. "Juliet, it's me Rooster, it's Bradley, please come in." He and the other range officers desperately tried to reach her, but there was no response.

The group looked out the tower window to see if the could spot her in the fleeting evening light.

They looked out just in time to see the ball of fire erupt from her plane as it collided with the side of the mountain.

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any other parts

[horatio-fig]

Seeing as it’s Disability Pride Month and I’ve been having a pretty rough time lately I thought I would share some pictures of what my life is like to see if I can feel less ashamed. I tend to hide my disorder because I’m worried people will judge me, but I wanna try sharing for a while.

My brain doesn’t always process feelings in a safe way. The Logical part of my brain and the Emotional part of my brain don’t communicate very well and so I’m more likely to jump to the worst case scenario (and in every scenario I believe everything is my fault) and make an impulsive dangerous decision based on that.

So, I have to live with constant distractions and safe things to keep me safe and calm me down when the bad thoughts start, here’s what some of that looks like.

This is my floor time blanket. I’m safer on the floor, it’s easier for me to lie down and wrap myself in a safety burrito if I need to and it’s harder for me to get up and do something dangerous.

These are my distraction games. We discovered it helps me to get lost in a large immersive open world games (Skyrim survival mode is the most helpful, but anything Star Wars is also great)

Speaking of Star Wars, luckily something about the world of Star Wars creates a pleasant feeling in my brain, so when in need I can always hang out with my best friends.

These are what we call “safety snacks”. If I start to spiral then a sharp flavour can sometimes shock me out of it. This is anything sour, vinegary or spicy.

(It’s gonna get a little bit dark now and I’m gonna mention suicide)

This is the view I have of the city. I love living here and it helps sometimes to rest my head on the glass and remember all the things I still have to experience before I die. Sadly, the door is always locked and I’m not allowed out there unsupervised for obvious reasons.

I also have a view of the river, the bridges, and that little gap in the fence I know a person can fit through, which as you can imagine can be a bit of a problem. This is a bowl of cold water I always have on hand. In extreme situations I need to hold my head under freezing cold water for at least 30 seconds with no breaks. Suicide attempts are usually brought on by extreme adrenaline rush that triggers my fight or flight. If I simulate drowning it can trick my body into thinking we have acted on this and bring my adrenaline down.

I don’t really tell people about this because when I do the reaction is very “Oh you just get to play video games and eat snacks all day, must be nice 🙄”. And yes, under some circumstances that is nice, but a lot of the time I am doing this under very very unpleasnt circumstances. I don’t live like this all the time, this is only when it’s a must.

I’m not sharing this for sympathy or clout, I just don’t think masking and hiding this part of me is very healthy and I thought maybe during Disability Pride people would be a little more open to this sort of stuff. I’m not really allowed to leave the apartment unsupervised and I don’t get much human interaction. It feels a bit like a prison at times and I’m tired of feeling so alone in all this. (Don’t feel sorry for me! It’ll just make it worse. Just tell me I’m a stinky a lil guy and drop a game recommendation or something)

Any way thank you for listening, this was really more for myself than anything and I already feel a bit lighter 🥰 Be safe out there x

Here’s the T-shirt I made after I got diagnosed.

Coz even tho I’m ill, I’m still just a silly little guy x

[briar--rising]

Extensive non-graphic discussion of suicide (I'm fine, I'm not suicidal, don't worry). Also lots of maternal enmeshment talk

Therapy today was rough. I'm doing so much better in so many ways, but that doesn't mean the trauma is gone lol. I do so well in early spring, and then May and June comes and I can taste death in the air. I won't let it pull me under this year, I refuse to spiral into long-lasting psychosis and lose my progress until next February again. But it's still difficult.

My mother is. Fucked up. Obviously. But something that I realized in today's session was that her dream scenario is still the two of us committing suicide together in the end. And that's. Well. It feels bad.

A few weeks ago she brought up again how she wants to commit suicide when she gets very old/sick, or if the world goes to a very bad place. And the reason she insists on bringing this up with me is that she's very clear that it will be my responsibility to make sure she gets the assisted suicide she wants someday. Basically, asking me to kill her one day. And today was the anniversary of my uncle's suicide, and in about a month it will be the anniversary of my mom's suicide attempt when I was 11, and so it's all just...been on my mind. And we talked today in therapy about how the fact that my mom attempted suicide shortly before my birthday was especially damaging for me, and how basically being the one to find her that day but then not being allowed to see her for a while in the hospital once she woke up was deeply traumatic. And it's all just. Tangled together in my head.

I've known for years that I'll be in charge of making sure my mom gets the assisted suicide she wants, she's made that very clear to me. And I do not want that responsibility, but I just always knew/assumed it would be my job. And I was talking about that with my therapist today and she was like "I think it would be very dangerous for you to do that. You will always have a tendency towards psychosis, and there is already so much tangled up in you and your mother and annihilation and death and loss of self, and I do not think it will ever be safe for you to help her with that." And I realized she was right, but it literally hadn't occurred to me that I was allowed to not be the one to help with that? But like. I don't have to. A friend of hers can do it. My brother can do it. Someone, anyone who isn't me can help her find a doctor and get what she needs someday. I do not have to kill my mother. I do not have to kill myself.

Because I know in her dream scenario we'd do it together, and/or my doing it for her would push me to do it to myself. First of all, she's literally suggested it before. Second of all, she cannot cope with or even begin to comprehend the fact that I am separate from her and that I would dare to live without her. We were talking today about how my mom's relationship feels almost parasitic, like she's drawing on me to sustain herself, and how I was worried that by cutting her off and having increasing boundaries I was hurting her by taking away her access to her life force. And my therapist was like, "No, because those boundaries are real for you, but not for her. Consciously she sort of accepts them, but in her mind you are still completely enmeshed. What do you think would happen if you asked to move back in with her?" And I was like, "She'd be thrilled, she'd start working towards it immediately." And she was like, "Exactly. If she was developing the type of boundaries you are, she would have reservations about her adult child moving back in. But she doesn't have any of those boundaries, and still believes and feels you to be as close as you were, so you're not hurting her by having those boundaries internally, because she will never be able to share them or even truly understand that you have them." So that was helpful, if disturbing in its own way. Bc it also made me realize how deeply enmeshed we still are on her end, and how clear it is from that and from several things she's said over the years including quite recently that she wants us to kill ourselves together someday.

But I won't. I refuse. When she wants to die she can find someone else to help her manage it, and I will not be joining her. I will not let her annihilate me in life or death.

[three-maddys-in-a-trenchcoat]

if you told me that r/egg_irl was a project by antitrans groups to convince trans people to never transition and spiral further into depression, i would not be surprised in the slightest. at the very least i know it must be run by transmedicalists (read: antitrans trans people) because of the top-down usage of transmed + NB-exclusionary terms like FTM/MTF and the cumulative rhetoric of the meme ecosystem they've fostered.

nothing about that community fosters transpositive thinking, hope, or self-esteem. it's a masterclass in transmed thought. doomer memes about transitioning being terrible, transphobic self-fetishization via trans hypno kink shit and forced feminization porn, reinforcing toxic gender roles, reinforcing internalized transmisogyny via hyperfemininty + impossible beauty standards being pushed as the norm, turning the complex and diverse experiences of self-discovery into a fucking checklist of canon "egg behaviors," constant memes about dysphoria that imply that feeling soul-crushing levels of dysphoria is the only trans experience, "haha cut the dysphoria noodle" memes implying that bottom dysphoria is required to be trans, full blast suicidal ideation memes, and so on.

all of this culminates in that characteristic reddit groupthink where if you feel like you don't fit in or relate to the memes, then you're not really trans, and that dynamic can get people killed.

and please don't come at me with shit like "oh it's gotten much better since 2017, you wouldn't know," because every time some stupid fucking drama breaches containment or i hear about the most toxic trans people peddling transmed garbage being avid egg_irl meme posters, i'm comfortable in saying that nothing has changed. you cannot rehabilitate egg culture. egg culture is transmed culture. it must be nuked from orbit.

(if you couldn't tell, i was a victim of egg_irl. i delayed my transition and delayed admitting to myself that i was trans. this is the second time this happened to me, after tumblr transmeds did the same damage to me in 2009. i didn't transition until i was 30. fuck all of these people.)

[catboygirljoker]

content warning: discussion of suicidal ideation

i am coming up on the anniversary of one of the darkest moments ive ever had. a lot has happened since then (<-positive), and im feeling reflective.

when im feeling very, very depressed i play a game with myself. i hold my phone in my hand, and i think to myself, if clicking the power button on my phone could kill me, instantly, painlessly, would i do that right now? nearly every time ive done it, ive realized that no, i dont really want to do that. i have things i want to do, things i want to live for. i have self-preservation and basic hope for the future.

on the night of may 30th last year, deep in the pits of the most miserable doom spiral i've ever experienced, sitting in the arms of my husband, i played that game with myself. and for the first and only time, i clicked the power button.

a few seconds later, my husband said something goofy in his sleep, i dont remember what it was. but it was like my fever broke in that moment. it jostled me out of my spiral, reminded me that im a living creature. i got up, went to the bathroom to splash my face with water, and looked down at my phone to see a notification from my partner telling me about some exciting movie announcement.

just a few days later, i watched a stream of someone playing kingdom hearts, which kickstarted the longest-running hyperfixation i've had that i can remember. because of that, i started seriously drawing, something i'd wanted to do for a while but hadnt been able to do with any regularity or consistency. i started posting art and started my art blog. i connected with some people.

in the months after, i started adderall. i started a planted tank with some snails. i posted some writing and got some very nice comments. i talked to my friends and talked to people who might end up being my friends. i bought a piano and started playing again. i pet my cats, kissed my partners, cooked some food, found new music i liked.

ive severe doubts about divine providence. i dont believe there's "no such thing as coincidences". i think the fact that most of the above happened right after the deepest and darkest night of my life speaks less to there being "someone looking out for me" or "a reason for everything" and more to the fact that when you keep living, you keep finding reasons to keep living. it's never the end of history. shit will just keep happening forever, bad and good. things change and grow and die and return. this too shall pass.

[peri]

suicide tw a little later in the post, kinda heavy, kinda long. sorry i just need to talk about this

i was on youtube yesterday while trying to calm down from spiraling, and before i could find a video i wanted to put on, a 9 year old video my brother posted popped up. it didnt have any more than 10 views. knowing it'd be bittersweet, i clicked.

i was in 90% of the videos he posted. we'd be playing everything together. gaming videos, of course, if you dont know my brother, he's a gamer first person second. but in a well-adjusted way lol. he's like, really good at every game he plays and can beat them really quickly.

on one hand, it was really weird seeing my old self, even in video games. my typing style, the name i used, my character styles, etc. on the other, seeing my brother, young and so close to me, typing slow, awkward... it made me smile.

he and i used to be really close. we'd do everything together. he ... looked up to me. he talked to me. these days we've drifted. we don't ever text unless its a birthday, and then its just to say happy birthday, no conversation. i don't think we've had an actual conversation since i left. but even before then, the last time we really talked was when i was heavily suicidal and opened up about that to him finally. this was in late 2019, i believe.

he was caring, understanding, said he's struggled with it himself in the past, told me everything. and he said he would always be there for me.

it.. broke my heart, one night. we were all drinking, and he ended up getting emotional but none of us knew why. until eventually he started crying and just calling my name over and over. "oh, [deadname].... [name], [name], [name].... [name]! [name]! [name]!" it ripped my heart out, and just recalling it is painful. i knew exactly why he called my name. he was scared. he thought i was going to kill myself, and soon. and to be fair, at that point, i thought i was going to as well. i didn't tell him that, but he knew.

i'm crying lol. no one else ever knew why he did that. but i did. he was drunk out of his mind, so i ended up walking him back to his room and putting him to bed. he made me sit on his bed until he fell asleep. he fell asleep fairly quick, as he was very drunk and out of it. but he didnt want me to leave his side, so i stayed a little longer anyways.

that was the last time we were ever truly close. i wonder if he remembers that.

during my visit back to texas last year, i asked if he was mad at me. if he was ever upset that i left. he said no, he would never hold that against me. which was nice. but it did mean that the reason we drifted was just... for nothing. i mean, dont get me wrong, we'd been drifting for longer than that, the last few years i lived with him, he stayed alone in his room most of the time, and i never knew what to say. he's always been awkward, quiet, anxious, so talking wasnt easy. and i guess growing up made that feel impossible.

he eventually got a girlfriend, after years of me questioning if he was even into the idea of dating and romance at all lol, and she ended up living with us. im glad for her, coz she really turned his life around. but it did mean that i saw him even less. he was occupied with her.

theyre still together btw. his first ever relationship and its been years. good for him.

but anyways... i guess all of this just to say i miss him. i never thought we'd drift. it's hard to think about. hard to acknowledge.

looking back at those old youtube videos made me face that again. he was so young. so happy. so enthusiastic.

he had no idea what would happen.

[witch-apologist]

Catra: "I'm not going to force Adora to come back for you."

Shadow Weaver: "If you dont ill torture you more and maybe kill you. Also i just demonstrated that you cant run away because i will literally know where you are no matter what so dont even think about rebelling "

Catra, terrified: "okay" (still gonna secretly cover for her tho)

Catra antis: "She was mean to adora for no reason, everything she did was out of evil evil malice not fear."

Adora: "come with me"

Catra: *considering it*

Light Hope: "Heres a series of memories that im going to make you relive specifically selected to make you mad at each other and i will kill both of you if adora keeps protecting you, so skedaddle because i want to groom this girl to do genocide just like the horde before me"

Catra: "welp im not sticking around otherwise we are both gonna die and im also severely traumatized from having to literally relive my worst memories so im kinda antsy and dont want to be tethered to the person who was forced to be responsible for me i want to prove im capable myself, so im not going to help you up the weird castle lady will probably save you anyway so i dont actually think im leaving you in danger."

Catra antis:" Shes so horrible she tried to murder adora and there was absolutely nothing but murdering adora for no reason on her mind, Light hope really cared about adora here and saved her from the horrible abusive catra. "

Scorpia: "Hey lets get out of the horde together because you could be happy "

Catra: "Hmm maybe youre right, well gotta go take care of this other situation."

Adora: "hey remember our mutual abuser who always made you feel like second best and tortured you and you know can track you anywhere on the planet and who just abandoned you like a week ago and who has literally told you multiple times shed kill you given the first opportunity? Well shes at my place now."

Catra: incredibly triggered and traumatized "Scorpia we are going to carry out revenge on my abuser i am solely focused on this because my rage at being abused has consumed my thoughts

Shadow Weaver: "Hi catra, nice to torture you again, ill likely kill you as well."

Catra: "okay now we're DEFINITELY opening that portal"

Catra antis: "everything bad she did was solely to spite Adora there are no sympathetic or understandable things that could possibly explain this downward spiral except that shes an evil evil abuser."

Catra: has literal amnesia and cannot see what adoras seeing "You are concerning me because it seems like you are suddenly developing psychosis"

Catra antis: shes gaslighting adora!

Catra: has nightmares,emotional breakdowns, and depressive episodes from the guilt of what shes doing.

Catra antis: "she wasnt even sorry she only acts good for adora because shes manipulating her"

Catra: "literally apologizes multiple times"

Catra antis: "she never apologized even once"

Catra: shows actual metered progress and takes in outside input to improve her behaviour and outlook

Catra antis:"she didnt even put in any work to redeen herself"

Catra: "defends herself from assault and restraint and protests to adora commiting suicide"

Catra antis "look at this abusive behavior persisting into their reconciliation"

Catra: Literally tries saying anything she thinks might keep adora alive and actively contradicts adoras negative self image.

Catra antis: "Manipulation! Guilt Tripping! Abuse!"

Catra antis reading comprehension: 0

[swampndn]

CW: suicide ideation, domestic violence

So, the past 12 MONTHS STRAIGHT, I've been dealing with big trauma things. Specifically, two big trauma things. With the first one (intimate partner violence and nearly 5 years of being in a physically, sexually, and verbally abusive relationship followed by extreme threats of violence when I ended it and MONTHS of legal proceedings and being at high risk of lethal outcomes) was the first time I've really experienced suicide ideation. Since then, it's been on and off. With the second, very recent trauma (which still not ready to put on the Internet, but can objectively say is far worse than the first one - which didn't know could be possible), I've also been struggling with it off and on. Semi-recently, more on.

I am happy to report that I no longer feel like suicide ideation is going to be a problem!

When I talked to my only friend who has experienced what I did, they helped me see very clearly what I want, and how I 100% absolutely want to be around for it. I can't fathom doing anything to myself that would inhibit that life I want. Something my friend said immediately flipped some switch in my brain that was like, "Bitch, you will absolutely not crash your car into this mountain. You got shit to DO that you desperately WANT TO DO! So you're going to be fucking SAFE, stop being RECKLESS, and not walk around like you've accepted your own death anymore. NO!"

Now, I do understand that I'm still gonna have to be diligent and mindful. I'm not naive to think that suddenly it's not a problem anymore. But I am incredibly optimistic, and when I had a real difficult moment today, that would have sent me spiraling just last week, the thought didn't cross my mind. I couldn't even imagine that thought crossing my mind.

Fuck. The people are right when they say that you need to talk to people because, wow. I got this much progress from ONE conversation. Imagine how much more efficient healing can be if I just talk about it.

[cytser]

i'm annoyed so you get a rin vent on a platform that doesn't have my face directly attached

i've seen so many posts both on twitter and tumblr recently guilting people for not posting about current events, and acting as if you're morally/ethically at fault if you're not actively posting about it. and i'm sorry, but are you hearing yourselves?

obviously, what is happening is extremely disturbing. there aren't words to describe the level of horror, so i'm not going to try to find them. i should think this goes without saying, but i'm going to say it just so we're clear that my post isn't coming from the angle of 'but who cares about what's happening?'

but you have absolutely no idea how people are impacted by what's happening. you have no idea what personal connection people may have. you have no idea the impact it may be having on their mental states, and when you act so dismissive and act like 'this is negatively impacting my mental health' is a privileged take, you show what you really think about mental health.

there are so many reasons why people may not feel able to talk about it! people may not be able to understand what's happening. people may have grown up in warzones. people may have delusions, obsessions, flashbacks, suicidal ideation triggered that they do not have a healthy way of managing.

and from a practical standpoint, what is the point in expecting everyone to burn themselves out? when people are burnt out, they lack an ability to critically examine what they're reading. with the amount of propaganda and mis/disinformation, it is extremely important right now for people to be taking time and care to consider what they're reading. insisting that people shout while burnt out just means that mis/disinformation is going to rule. who does that help?

'you're privileged to not be under threat of death!!' well, for a start you don't know everyone's personal situations. but beyond that, you guys know it isn't morally wrong to use one's privilege, right?

when this all started, it triggered my ocd so badly that for days straight i was compulsively checking the news and making myself more and more afraid and distressed. every person who i told, including my literal actual therapist, suggested i stop. so i did! and now i take my news from trusted friends (and a few select other reliable sources) and am trying very hard not to fall into another ocd spiral because with other things going on in my life as well i'm genuinely unsure if i'd survive

i'm glad if you've never reached a level of mental distress where you're concerned for your ability to keep yourself safe, but this is the reality that a lot of people are dealing with, and those people are also the one's most likely to think they're morally failing if they refuse to share every post they see

if you do have the energy to keep posting things, then obviously i encourage you to. but i also encourage you to be critical about what you share, to make sure you understand the history, to understand that everyone is spreading propaganda, and to seriously consider the bias held by the people who's voices you're sharing.

first- and second-person accounts are typically you're best bet, along with people who's jobs revolve around this (activists, journalists, politicians but be fucking careful there), as you can generally assume they know the history - but still be careful, make yourself aware of red flags, read the replies if you're worried because odds are someone will be providing more context there. sharing propaganda is not helpful, it just makes it harder for you to understand what's happening and how to help

part of why this is so difficult to talk about is because the levels of performative activism and just straight-up horrific things i've been seeing on my social media is way more than i've seen during other conflicts. it is very dificult to engage with without a good knowledge, and most people who are engaging do not have a good knowledge

i've had to unfollow so many people over the past couple of weeks because they've clearly been so poisoned from propaganda. it seems a lot of people care more about looking like 'good activists' than they do about actually being good activists

[brambleandbrush]

2023.10.25

I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I can safely say that work is not the only thing that’s affecting my mental health. I feel like I’m spiraling a bit today. I keep thinking of frustrations with my husband and my self-induced weight loss plateau.

I want weight loss to be instantaneous but it’s not. Second best, I want it to be quick, but even when I’ve tried starving myself, when my mental health was at its worst, it didn’t work. I lived on less than 500 kcals a day for nearly a month and saw my weight loss completely stall. The internet CICO prophets made the spiral worse. What the hell was wrong with me that couldn’t even loose weight while barely eating and working out an hour a day?

That was this past March/April. Between this, marital issues, and work being really hard, I ended up suicidal. I didn’t, thankfully. Not from lack of trying. I couldn’t get my husband to leave the house without me. His insistence on staying is the only reason I’m here. I couldn’t make it fit into the narrative I had created in my head that no one cared anymore. It was enough to snap me back to reality. Instead I saw a doctor, started meds for depression, and stopped dieting. Things have improved but still haven’t been great. Work is still hard. Marriage is an up hill climb. My weight hasn’t budged because I haven’t put in the work.

This is not the post I was planning when I started typing, but it seems to be the post I needed. Thanks for staying on the ride with me. All of this is to say that weight loss is complicated and hard. It’s not just eating less and exercising. There are complicated chemical reactions happening, hormones, and mental health to consider. I’m trying to find a way to get back to making progress without triggering another spiral. It’s hard to get data - measurement and weight without feeling things. Counting calories is dangerous for me.

So how do I do this? In the past I’ve noticed that I have had the most success when I’ve used images and storytelling to track progress rather than numbers. When I’ve focused on tracking the healthy things that I’ve been eating and my exercise by sharing pics on Tumblr (pretty sure I’ve deleted at least 5 accounts in here), I’ve been able to stick with it longer and I’ve seen more success. So, I took measurements today. Maybe I will do again in a month, maybe I won’t. In the meantime I’m going to focus on building a habit of sharing pics from my walks and hikes and the food I’m eating daily. Hopefully this will be enough to get me on track in a healthy way.

[mental-mario]

Monu-Mentally Shredded

I didn't realize today is Mental Health Awareness day, but I figure it is all the more fitting then that I recount my hospitalization in the psych ward last week. This may run long and require at least a Part II.

The day started at 8am with a routine blood draw. My psych put me on lithium recently, and this was a routine test prior to my follow-up appointment to check my lithium blood level. For context, I have been depressed and suicidal for much of my life, but I didn't get it addressed until the last year because I was taught that it was shameful or weak to receive any care for emotions and mental health. I always felt like something was mentally "off" about me, though, and after sitting 9 months on a waitlist, I finally got accepted as a psych patient. I was then diagnosed MDD and BPD, as well as OCD, BPII, and ADHD. My older daughter was also diagnosed ADHD and ASD1 earlier this year, but I digress.

This has been a particularly hard year amongst many hard years, and after I got fired I spiraled into a free fall. I stayed in bed and slept a lot, cut myself, binged on snacks when I finally did get out of bed some, and I was especially irritable and moody, even yelling and cursing at one of the school's teachers in the car line, with my kids in the car. I wish I could say that was out of character for me, but sadly it isn't. I did a better job in previous years holding my negative thoughts underneath the surface (not a good thing), but with going no-contact with my parents and sibling's family for a second time as well as navigating the choppy waters of my marriage, my depression, anger, and burnout became too much for me to suppress. It wasn't much of a surprise after seeing the lacerations on my arm that my psych "urged" me to go to the hospital voluntarily. I put that in quotes because he really said I can either go on my own or be committed involuntarily. So I think I made the better choice.

I had been to the ER once or twice before in life, but this was my first time in the psych triage and consequentially being admitted. The triage was locked down with several security personnel on hand. I was shown to a bed in a small area with a posted camera in the corner and a sitter to watch me, and they took my clothes, phone, keys, and wallet and had me get into a big green paper jumpsuit. While I waited to have another blood draw, EKG, and urine tox screen done, a large man with profound autism stripped naked in the hallway and pissed on the floor. Once the tests were completed, I was escorted upstairs by wheelchair to a unit that I could only describe as the holding tank.

I'm not really sure what the point of being on this unit was, so maybe someone can comment if they know better. I was brought into a room with 2 empty beds, a bathroom, and 2 TVs with 1 on and no remote. The staff had me order lunch (I was in no mood to eat), and I was able to call my wife from the phone on the wall with the extra short cord. I'm not entirely sure someone wasn't listening in on those calls because the phone made some weird clicking noises when it was connecting. I went back to the room after making my phone call and was provided an atarax to calm my nerves. It worked, and I napped until lunch arrived. I ate very little of the frozen stir fry they gave me, but I did eat the bowl of grapes. I arrived at the ER around 10am, and it wasn't until around 5pm that I was finally transported over to the unit.

Security had me go through a metal detector before being let in. They said you'd be surprised what people do to try and sneak things in. Inside, there was a front unit and back unit, and I was escorted to the back. I was then sat into a chair near the nurse's desk, which was locked inside by badge lock and behind thick - I assume bulletproof - glass. I then waited for them to take my vitals...again! I looked around. There were probably 10 patients on the unit, and they were also all dressed in the same green paper jump suit. The lighting was all fluorescent in the hallways, and there was one phone hanging on the wall for patients to use, also with a short cord. I've not been to prison, but I do imagine some similarities would be experienced. The other patients were in the dayroom area eating dinner, while I was taken into another room by a nurse and another staff member as witness to strip search me. This made it feel all the more like prison, and if this was supposed to make me feel less like killing myself, it failed miserably.

I am going to break it up here, but look out for Part II coming up real soon!

I am currently playing Shredder's Revenge, and I highly recommend the DLC if you haven't gotten it yet. The survival mode online is a lot of fun, and I feel like I get a limited social interaction out of it, even though I have no idea who is on the other side of the wifi. With that said, I have no community or irl friends, so I would love for some virtual company. I am adding my friend code below, so send me a friendvite and message me when you're available to play. I am also planning to open up rooms from time to time in games for anyone reading this blog or my socials (as I get them going) to join via code, and I will post the code up with first come first served. So be sure to follow the blog here. I hate the term "followers," so I prefer to call you my friends, if I may.

My friend code is: SW - 4419 - 5159 - 3401. I will also post this on the blog bio for reference, as well as the QR code. I want friends!!...but with boundaries, lol!