#i never get sick and ive never broken a bone and i have no health problems | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pizza-soup · 4 years

Text

Sorry I've been missing in action.

Long story short I got very injured at the labs, but I've been making a fast recovery. For the more detailed, graphic version, you can read below. Warning: Mention of hospital, blood, car accident.

As I mentioned, I got really injured at work beginning on February 21 at around 9 PM. It was during a routine check at some of the sites, one in particular needed our higher clearance because there had been a breach at a fence that past week, so I, and two other guards went to check out any tampering of the fence again. They say it might be vandals but a lot of them say it was some kind of large animal. The road to those sites are a single path through the woods, lit with a few lights, no curves, just a flat road with a hill on one side. It hadn't snowed that week either, so no fear of ice or anything. It was just a routine jeep trek.

It happened so fast. Our vehicle was knocked over, I'm not even sure how, but we were rolling in the dark down a hill, hitting trees. I remember the shouting, holding fast, and the glass. I remember crawling toward a tree and trying to sit up against it or maybe I was put there by the other guard, Dolores, I remember her telling me to stay awake. I asked her if I was dreaming. It didn't feel real. I asked what was happening to me because I couldn't move right, everything felt so slow and muffled. I passed out by the time they got us into the medical ward. I don't remember them putting me in a gown or putting in an IV. I woke up later, I buzzed the call button out of fear and pain. My whole left side was throbbing. A nurse was relieved I finally came to. She gave me pain meds and called the doctor in.

I was told there had been an accident, that much I already knew, but no one was killed, just injured. I lost a lot of blood, my uniform was soaked in it and they had to cut it off me. Part of the metal from the door frame folded in and pieced my left shoulder and I had minor cuts on my hands and arms from the glass. My blood pressure dropped so low they were scared my heart might've stopped. I was given blood, hooked up to a lot of things and I would have to stay under watch for a few days. There was a lot of tests they needed to do to figure out just how bad my injuries were.

For the next few days I was just sleeping, I couldn't sit up without feeling dizzy. I had to lay semi flat, my blood pressure was still very low. My left side was still throbbing and the stitches itched. A lot of bruises developed from being tossed around like I was, mostly on my arms because I was shielding my face and head. My minor glass cuts stung while batheing. Nurses came in every few hours to check my vitals, help me use the restroom, shower, help me eat, ect. I got so tired from the smallest things. I couldn't call anyone, my phone was in my locker. I finally got someone to help me call my brother to tell him what happened. My brother was naturally scared, he thought something happened to me and he was sad to know he was right. He wanted to see me, but he couldn't, I was in the medical ward on lab property. He wanted to call our mom to tell her but I told him to wait, there was a possibility that I might be transferred to a local hospital where they can visit me, and I didn't want her panicking and trying to drive up here in bad weather. It's best she waited til things cleared up.

After the first week I was transferred to a local hospital after getting a bunch of tests done. No brain trauma, no broken bones, no blood sugar issues or thyroid problems. I could sit up in bed by then and eat on my own. I still couldn't walk very well without feeling really dizzy, again, low blood pressure. A lot of minor bruises were fading away. I never had my anemia officially confirmed, but they confirmed it and had me take daily iron and placed on a blood building diet in the new hospital. I was tested for covid, I came out clear.

My brother and mom visited me daily, and the other doctor said I was recovering really quickly, that gave us a lot of hope. I could be out of there by a few days, though my blood pressure was worrying her. Seems it wasn't so much the blood loss, but that it might have been an underlying condition already linked to my untreated anemia. She would get the in-house dietitian to include a bit more natural sea salt to my iron rich diet, as well as tell me what I should eat at home and that I need to drink a lot more water than I normally did. This is a problem I've had for awhile, I forget to drink enough water. The doctor warned me I better remedy that immediately especially with low BP. My mom was already taking notes. She really wanted to just take me home already. I really liked her being there, I'm not that shy about my body, but I honestly felt better having my mom bathe me and comb my hair instead of strangers doing that. She was also a lot more gentle around my stitches and bruises.

Eventually I did come home, I still needed a lot of rest and help getting out of bed. I had to fight the urge to clean house, help with groceries, ect. I'm so used to being self sufficient. I felt so frustrated that just walking around the room would tire me out, when I'd hike for miles just a few months ago. I was tired of sleeping and sitting down. But there wasn't much else I could do. I did a lot of origami, my bro got me a coloring book, I watched a lot of movies, took my iron -which is nasty btw-, ate meals that were saltier than I normally would prepare but my taste buds would have to adjust. I was happy my new diet included a lot of fish though.

I did have some close calls. I really thought I could stand up in the shower instead of sitting, and wound up calling for my mom to help me up after collapsing. I collapsed again when I was trying to cook dinner for myself. My face, according to my mom, was drained of color and my breathing was shallow. I felt so dizzy and nauseated. She nearly wanted to call the hospital again. My bro said I was pushing myself too hard and I always had a problem with not asking for help. That I needed to learn to stop being so damn stubborn and rest. To anyone else, that sounds harsh, but he knows me way too well, probably better than our mom. I do have that problem, I do push myself too much. After that, I decided to be more patient with myself. I was sick and might be sick for awhile.

This week I'm doing a lot better. I can do my daily things now, I even went to get groceries and take a little walk to the river. But I can't over do it, I can't stand up or walk for too long, and I can't lift anything heavy, otherwise I get bouts of dizziness and need to sit down. The pain isn't as bad on my back anymore though it's still very sore, my arms, especially my left side, have a dull pain. I can't sleep on my back and left side, only my right and on my stomach. A lot of the cuts on the back of my arms and hands have scabbed over, minor bruises are gone but major ones on my shoulder and neck are still pretty dark and tender. I'm still finding glue spots on my chest and stomach from the medical tape and the EKG patches they put on me, but a bit of lotion is taking it off. My stitching, according to my mom, is definitely going to leave a pretty bad scar above my shoulder blade, but it's fine. My body has a lot of scars here and there from close calls, but I consider them ' Marks of Life'. They're proof I survived and thrived.

It'll take time for me to really feel like I'm back to normal. My mom refuses to go back home until I make a full recovery. She hasn't tended to me like this for a long time, mainly because I rarely get sick. I trait from my dad's side. We don't get colds or flus for years, no history of cancer, heart issues or diabetes, and his family usually remain active to their elderly years, not to mention our graceful aging. My dad used to say it was our native blood, we're just built tougher. The only thing that could kill us is getting injured like this. God, he'd be so worried about me though. I remember how he'd fuss over me when I skinned my knee as a child or got my allergies. If he was alive, he'd probably refuse to let me do anything out of bed, but then that's exactly what I should be doing anyway.

I got a report on the other guards health yesterday. Dolores and Elijah. She was the least hurt out of all of us, just a dislocated arm, mild whiplash, and some really bad glass cuts on her chest and arms, she's home recovering with her husband and kids. Elijah was the driver and got knocked unconscious with a bad concussion, his entire left arm was sliced by glass and metal, he lost a lot of blood like me and is recovering just as slow as I am. He opted to stay in the lab medical ward because he doubts his roommate can care for him at home, he's on a lot of pain meds, so he sounded distant on the phone. I think out of all of us, he's going to take the most time to recover. I told him I'd pray for him and if he wants, I can visit. He appreciated that a lot. I thanked Dolores for helping us that night, she was the one trying her best to keep us alive and sent the distress signal on our ARK devices so they could find us in the dark. Without her, I think we would've bled to death.

God, it feels like a distant nightmare. I still can't figure out how we were knocked off the road like that. Something hit us out there and it was strong. I felt the impact in the backseat, but I didn't see it. Dolores says it looked like a bear, but bears aren't that strong. Eli says he saw horns, so maybe a bison. Bison are that strong, especially against a little jeep. The incident is still under investigation. The lab is also very concerned about how this happened. It's possible the same thing that hit us, has been tampering with the fence.

One less thing to worry about is the hospital bill, the accident happened on lab grounds, everything is taken care of through them, probably because they don't want to get sued. They are giving us another two weeks before we report back in to the doctor for another round of tests and physical tests, as well as check to see if my stitches were still secure. Our return to work solely depends on our results, we may not be able to come back until late April. They really want to be sure we're okay. Because I'm an 'Ophanim' aka Tier 3 guard, I'll also be given a mental test before being hooked back into Selene. They just want to be sure there's no cognition issues and I can sync properly to her. I may have to do a refresher since I've been away for so long, but I'll worry about that when it comes.

Well, if you read this far, thanks. I hope I didn't scare you all too much. I am doing a lot a better though, I promise. I'm getting stronger everyday, though activity on this blog will be slow. Send me some prayers, good vibes, whatever. I'd really appreciate anything. Hope you've had a good month, better than mine hopefully.

#Update #medical trauma #accident tw #injury tw #daily update

16 notes · View notes

bearsinpotatosacks · 4 years

Text

Day 17 of TrekTober2020- Other Trek Crossover

I know this is a few days late but I honestly forgot and I really wanted to write something for this. I might continue with these crossovers, I need TOS Bones knocking (metaphorically) some sense into his AOS counterpart. (Also TOS Leonard McCoy is Bones, AOS Leonard McCoy is Leonard)

Trigger Warning for depression, self deprecating thoughts and depressive episodes

Also on AO3

His hands tensed around the PADD, another death, another life he couldn't save. Sickbay hurried around him, nurses running to and fro, doctors collecting in small groups, looking over PADDs.

He sighed, letting his head fall into his hands as he took a few moments to process the last few hours.

It had been a strange day, a major ion storm had prevented them from delivering well needed supplies to a new Starfleet colony. They had eight hours to get to the colony, if not, it could be another Tarsus IV.

Jim had been on edge ever since they received the emergency mission, he'd paced the ship dozens of times, eaten until he was sick and bitten his fingernails until they were blunt.

His anxieties were only heightened when the Transporter started malfunctioning and engine power decreased so much, they were stuck in the middle of deep space. He'd pushed every aspect of the ship in his control to its limit, sending countless engineering crew to sickbay and even pushing Scotty to, respectfully, also the Captain.

They had spent five hours fully stationary when the Transporter made the familiar sounds of someone beaming up.

After running to investigate, they found something they never thought they'd see. Themselves, from the late Ambassador Spock's universe.

From there, everything had gone into overdrive, with two of almost every main officer, it was chaotic. There were a few positives, new ideas, more staff with different knowledge and, before they knew it, they were racing across the cosmos towards the emergency.

There had been no calm when they arrived, however. Starving people in desperate need of care and raving leaders forgetting their duty was with the people.

Everyone was occupied. Most senior staff, especially both versions of Uhura, were busy contacting Starfleet and easing the palpable tension that filled the atmosphere like fog. Sickbay was instantly filled, surgeries one after the other, minor ailments filling up the corridors and overflow wards and every possible room available on the two floors being full.

Leonard was losing his cool. He hadn't eaten since their counters arrived, had barely drank anything that wasn't coffee or those sickly energy drinks. His feet were aching and his body swayed, head began to fuzz as the headache he'd been putting off with painkillers hit him.

His body gave up and started to crumple in on itself just as a pair of warm and familiar hands caught him as he fell.

"Woah there, son," His counterpart said, helping him get steady again as he put down the PADD and led him towards his office. "You need to rest for a while,"

Together, they managed to make their way towards the sofa that lay against the right hand wall, perpendicular to his desk. He sat down with a groan and rubbed his forehead as Bones poured him a glass of water and prepared him some pasta from the replicator.

They waited around in silence for a moment, listening to the far off conversations and happenings of sickbay. He was still processing the day's events, particularly the way he acted in that other universe.

Some of the uncanny differences were the fact that he was older on their five year mission, his Joanna was born earlier too. There was a soft happiness that radiated from him, even when they arrived at the crisis and were slowly overwhelmed. Maybe it was because he'd had more time to process the tragedies of his life, the divorce, his dad dying. It had opened up a lot of old wounds, seeing a version of himself so put together, having learnt from all his wrongdoings and not letting himself be defined by them.

"Eat." Bones slammed down a plate of food, breaking off his train of thought. "God knows when you last did that,"

He picked up the fork, it felt heavy in his hand, and started eating. The food was both delicious and meaningless mush in his mouth. His mind had gone from emergency mode to rational thinking as soon as he'd sat down. This happened every time a crisis ended, and every time he promised himself he wouldn't push himself this far.

"Do you do this during every red alert?" His counterpart asked. He settled next to him and sipped his own glass of water, lifting his hand to gently rub his back as he ate.

"Pretty much," Leonard said, there was no use lying to himself.

"Dear god, no wonder you're in such a bad place,"

He stopped eating for a second and turned to look at him, "How am I in a bad place? I'm doing a lot better than I used to,"

"How are you doing better?" His voice was calm and steady, while Leonard's was getting tighter and harsher.

"Well," He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not an active alcoholic anymore, and I try and eat three times a day, and I try and have downtime with my friends twice a week, and I don't do all nighters writing reports,"

He could feel Bones' gaze on his head as he lowered it to look at his feet, which he'd crossed on the sofa beneath him.

"I mean, maybe I can't get out of bed some days, and maybe this has made me late to my shift a few times, big deal," He wriggled in his seat and picked at the skin around his nails. "And I guess I don't shower at all some weeks, and I don't really have any hobbies, I don't really feel like I'm here sometimes,"

Bones opened his mouth to say something, but Leonard jumped in with, "But I don't cry every night, I sometimes exercise and try to tidy up and do all my reports and-"

"Feel nothing while you're doing it?"

Leonard panicked, his mouth ran dry, palms went clammy and he couldn't speak a word.

"Haven't actually, whole heartedly, freely laughed in god knows when?"

He nodded.

"Struggle to remember, don't find anything enjoyable, wonder why it isn't getting better when it was supposed to?"

Leonard felt the tears pour over onto his cheeks as he nodded continuously, his head falling onto Bones' shoulder as every little thing he'd been holding in for years fell out of him in one go.

Bones quietly hushed him, hand consistently circling the worn tunic he was wearing. He had meant to scrub out, but another landing party had come up with the usual scrapes, bruises and broken bones, and he'd been flurried away to help them.

"This isn't healthy," Bones continued. "I can't say that I'm the pinnacle of health, physical or mental, but, I know that bottling up even your basic emotions isn't good,"

Leonard didn't dare to raise his head, it felt too heavy with foreboding thoughts.

'You can't open up, it'll scare people,'

'You can't trust him, you've dealt with this for years, you don't need his help'

'You can't handle life now, if you open up and change, then you'll have more to do, you won't be able to handle it'

He felt two hands on his shoulders, shaking him lightly as he blinked and remembered where he was. His breath was coming out shorter as he heard distant instructions, telling him to breathe and only focus on that.

It was a few more minutes, or it could've been hours, before he fully came back to himself. He felt his stomach gurgle and he reached for the cold bowl of pasta, shakily shoveling mouthfuls in.

Bones looked at him and smiled sadly, sympathy and empathy twinkling in his blue eyes. He stood up, going to receive a blanket from a drawer before sitting down and smothering his body in it.

"Now, you're going to have a nap in here, trusting your staff to sort out the few people who remain in sickbay," He instructed, tucking the edges of the blanket under him as he reached for a PADD.

"But I nee-"

"No arguing, just napping,"

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his forehead relax and loosening his body. A subtle headache had just formed, from the aftermath of his tears and breakdown. The darkness came quickly after that, the last thing he remembered being him dropping into the lap of the counterpart.

I hope you enjoyed this

20 notes · View notes

d-conde-art · 5 years

Text

Mandelbrot in Revolt

Possible triggers: brief mention of possible suicidal thoughts, mild eye trauma (blood vessel pop), syringes/injections/IVs, violence, broken bones, suffocation, mention of mild non consensual drugging for medical purposes (mild iv sedation on an unconscious person), brief flesh eating insect mention, brief spider mention, existential dread

Moira scanned the dossier on her mobile holopad for the third time that day, clinically worded phrases such as "highly volatile mental state", "multiple security personnel incapacitated" and "mechanics of gravitational anomaly not fully understood" keeping the cogs in her mind turning as she and her escort made their way down the unfamiliar halls of the containment facility. The doctor was Talon's ace in the sleeve when it came to sensitive, difficult cases like these, ones that held astronomical potential but couldn't be resolved by simply throwing money or bullets at the problem. Perhaps she wasn't the most tactful or diplomatic employee on Talon's payroll, however she possessed a deadly combination of tenacity, brilliance and patience that made her uniquely suited for certain challenges that others simply couldn't tackle. Subject Sigma, once internationally lauded astrophysicist Seibren De Kuiper, now dead to the world after what was reported as a tragic and disastrous malfunction in the life support systems aboard the Kuiper space station, was a challenge she had quickly become voraciously intrigued by.

She was brought to the processing bay for the holding cell, where she swiped her identification under the attendant's scanner, silently noting the armored uniform they wore and the electric pistol in their holster. She had been warned that extra precautions were being taken with regards to the anomalous man and his mysterious abilities.

"You have a weapon on your person, yes?" The processing attendant questioned, at which Moira indicated her own small, hip-holstered electroshock gun, as well as the small syringe of luminous biotic fluid she had stowed in her breast pocket.

"Don't let the subject take that gun from you. Keep it holstered until absolutely necessary."

"Until? Not unless?" Moira asked with a chuckle, oddly spirited for all the danger and mystery that seemed to hang in the atmosphere, the smile on her face betraying a hint of her anticipation. The attendant only nodded soberly at the doctor and unsealed the door, revealing a dimly lit, concrete hallway guarded by more heavily armed personnel, stationed in small recesses in the wall roughly 15 feet up, watching silently as the doctor stalked down the hall in long, echoing strides. She paused at the end of the hall, one door sealing behind her, and another slowly hissing open before her.

The room she entered was divided into holding cell and observation bay by a massive wall of reinforced metallic glass through which the doctor could observe the subject. Two armed guards stood, stoic and gargoyle-like, on either side of a glass door, making her frown with irritation.

"I was promised a private consultation with Subject Sigma."

"It will be plenty private when you enter, Doctor. Reinforced two way glass." A guard knocked the glass with a gloved knuckle for emphasis.

"We received specific instructions to remain on the observation bay to prevent security breach and casualties." The other guard elaborated. Moira didn't answer, gazing past the guards and into the cell, realizing with unspoken delight that Subject Sigma was nowhere on the floor of his holding cell. Instead, immediately, she witnessed the proof of the outlandish contents of his dossier she had been hoping for. He was suspended there, curled into himself as tightly as a fetus in the amniotic medium, nearly 15 feet in the air, rotating slowly as though he possessed his own skewed magnetic axis.

"How fascinating..." She murmured as she stepped close to the glass door, gazing at the man that defied the laws of physics, hovering like a dormant creature in an invisible sea. "You will have no reason to interrupt me." She addressed the guards curtly after a long moment, stepping back, allowing them to share a final tentative look before one of them unlocked the door and the other went to the intercom to address the subject.

"Subject Sigma, the doctor is here to see you." The sound roused the subject slightly, and he twitched, his neck bending at an odd angle, like an anxious animal. Moira strode over the threshold the moment the door was opened, and as it was sealed behind her with a mechanical hiss, a glance over her shoulder confirmed what the guard had said, the wall was an opaque mirror from this side. The air in the room felt thin, and she had to pause only a few feet from the mirrored door, the effects of the gravitational anomaly already affecting her body, making her feel oddly light and giddy as she called out to him in her loud, clear voice.

"Subject Sigma, my name is Doctor O'Deorain. I've been sent to evaluate your health and personally manage your long-term recovery from the effects of your incarceration. Now, kindly come down from there."

---

Noise. Endless noise. Static that reverberates through the consciousness like a swarm of insects, devouring self identity, razing humanity, liquifying perception. If perception were a pane of frosted glass through which a human could observe a hazy, easily digestible semblance of true reality, not only would his pane of glass be melted into bubbling silica, it's frame would be in splinters, and the wall it was set in would be bulldozed to rubble, exposing a scope of reality to him that was never meant to be witnessed by any human being, living or dead.

He should be dead. Part of him thought that would be easier. But through it all, a melody called to him. A haunting song that snaked around the essence of his being, coagulating his existence just enough to keep him from dissipating into stardust and the echo of a terrific scream. The universe would not let him die. It cradled him in the throes of it's song like a child, a wordless symphony that revealed to him the story of reality and unreality alike. It was simply too much, too much noise, too much knowledge, too much perception, too much to hold together, yet he was drawn to it, he followed it's call everywhere it led him. Endless existential spaghettification, coiling his consciousness in impossibly long loops, threading him inexorably through the tapestry of the universe, even as he frayed and came undone at the ends. He saw infinite possibilities, infinite timelines, infinite lives and deaths. He had wept at first, wept for people he knew, for people he had never met, and for himself. But he rarely felt anything as tangible as grief anymore. The life he had lead before all this was just one thread in this universal fabric, one among an incomprehensible number, a single drop in a sea the size of infinity.

Somewhere, far away from his mind and soul, where his physical body floated, another noise struggled to cut through the melody. A human voice, tinny, filtered through electrical components. His body seized as his focus oscillated, struggling to break away from the melody and zero in on the sound. What would be done to his body now? More restraints? More electricity? He wasn't even sure where he was. The space station, languidly orbiting the supermassive black hole at the center of the galaxy? The asylum, tranquilized like livestock and strapped to a slab? Or the place that came after that, after the men in dark suits and the struggle and the sirens and the black helicopter they had transported him in?

Another voice called to him now, clearer and louder. Ah, yes, the doctor. He was told to expect a doctor. He had grown very sick of doctors in the asylum, he found them tiresome and invasive, like insects that burrowed into the flesh for their own selfish purposes, spiders that cocooned him in industrial strength straps and chemically induced comas until they were ready to sink their fangs in and suck out more information they couldn't possibly hope to understand. She wanted him to come down. Always asking for something. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He wasn't of this world anymore, he had nothing for them except agony. He forced his eyes open, stretching his neck to gaze over his shoulder at the doctor, his expression wide-eyed and unreadable. The two way glass hid nothing from him, they had no idea how much he could perceive, how he could see the armed guards on the other side of the glass without needing to see them, them and their heavy duty electric weapons. He saw the weapon on her own hip, and he snarled, slowly unfurling himself and turning to face her, the fact that he didn't touch the ground only exaggerating his imposing height.

"... My imprisonment?" He said incredulously, an amused smile stretching across his face as he regarded the doctor. She was familiar to him in the ethereal way that everything was, to someone for whom time was a tangled knot of a trillion threads that branched off into endless possibilities, in endless directions. He knew her without having to know her. He knew endless iterations of her. And he very well knew he could kill her before she could ever get a clear shot at him.

"Oh, my ignorant, foolish doctor." He laughed at the look sprouting on her face, narrow-eyed and indignant. "Freedom, imprisonment... it's all an illusion." A twitch of his hand was all it took to take her body into his grasp. Raising her up effortlessly, hovering her closer to him until her face was inches from his, the doctor's limbs convulsed as she struggled against the effects of the gravitational anomaly, her face going red, then purple as he slowly squeezed the air from her lungs, as easily as a child might squeeze an insect between two fingers. "Do you feel free right now, doctor? I know what you desire. You crave an understanding of me. Of what I know. I will provide you no such thing." He could feel her ribs bend against the force of his gravity, her organs compressing under her bones, so fragile, so breakable. "The only thing I can provide you, intrepid doctor, is a new understanding of violence." His grasp tightened, and his grin widened as a blood vessel burst in Moira's eye, coloring the sclera a visceral red to match the stark, heterochromatic crimson of her iris.

Seconds, a mere heartbeat before the life was crushed out of the seizing doctor, the melody called out to him again. Wordless and all-encompassing, it spoke to him in reverberations, in gentle tones that softened his grip on her lungs and made him contemplate the horror of what he was inflicting on her. Let her live, it seemed to compel, and he trembled, her body shivering along with his hand, the sound of her gasping greedily for the air she was now allowed to breath melding with the ephemeral song. Let her live. Let her live. Let her live. Dear Lord, what is that melody...

The last thing he did before losing consciousness was a simple gesture, a broad sweep of his hand. The last thing he saw was Doctor O'Deorain's body crashing violently into the two-way glass of the holding cell in it's wake, before she fell several feet and crumpled on the floor. The last thing he felt was his own body hitting the floor heavily, and his eyes drifting closed, as the melody danced approvingly through his mind.

---

Of all the things she expected from the subject during their first consultation, being called an ignorant fool was low on the list. Her stature remained tall, her hands clasped behind her back as he slowly, dramatically rotated to face her, eyes narrowing at his words as a sneer tugged at his sharp, sallow features. "I assure you, I am, and will continue to be, the only person both willing and capable of managing and implementing the type of recovery regiment you requi-" Before she could finish her sentence, she was cut off by a feeling like a giant's fist clenching around her ribcage, fire blooming in her chest as her lungs and bones protested the crushing pressure. Her fingers twitched towards her electroshock pistol, but her limbs were no longer her own, the gravitational anomaly coiling around her in relentless bondage, like an invisible serpent constricting it's prey.

She glowered wildly into his emotionless eyes as he spoke, choking and flashing teeth, hovering ever closer to the tall, thin man that was exerting his suffocating power on her. Her heart pounded, and her vision erupted with stars as something popped painfully in her eye. He was tightening. He pressed on her bones like he wanted to kill her.

Hold on, hold on, don't die, don't die, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She struggled to keep her mind from dimming as it agonized for the oxygen he was depriving her of. If she could just force her hand to travel to the holster on her hip, one quick whip and a pull of the trigger is all it would take...

For a brief moment, it looked like a sudden realization dawned on him, and the force lessened enough for her to suck a deep, ragged breath into her lungs. Then, all at once, her body was flung against the glass with a power that made blackness engulf her vision and lighting shoot through her chest. She felt herself hit the floor with a dull thud, and gasped there for a moment, coughing and clutching broken ribs through her shirt. Shaken and snarling, she clenched her jaw through the fiery pain and clawed her way up the side of the glass, coming to stand on unsteady legs just in time to see the door of the holding cell fly open and the armed guards enter, taking aim at the now prostrate subject with electric rifles. She seethed, and summoned all her strength to lunge at the nearest intrepid guard, grasping the length of a rifle with her shaking hands and growling at the armored pair in a ragged voice.

"STOP. You have no idea how much you're jeopardizing, how- how important this is." Still seething from the broken ribs in her chest, she ripped a syringe of luminescent yellow biotic fluid from her shirt pocket, jamming it into her own arm and pressing down on the plunger with a pained twitch of her snarl, before exhaling with deep relief as the fluid spread through her veins, expediting the reparations of her bones and muscles to an exceptional rate. The doctor straightened to her full height, her body a barrier between the guards and the subject, the angry red blotch in her sclera being the last injury to dissipate as she loomed over the two guards, her hand still gripping one of their rifles as her eyes burned into them. "Listen closely. There is a reason I was assigned to this subject, and I will not have my work undermined by ignorant, trigger-happy expendables like yourselves. You will get the hell away from my subject, or you two will become today's only 'casualties'. Do we have an understanding?" The guards lingered for a long moment, sharing a knowing look, as if considering Moira's long-held place in Talon's inner circle, and her not-so-veiled threat. The pair cast one last cautionary glance at the now unconscious form of Subject Sigma, before retreating complacently from the holding cell.

Moira turned as the door sealed behind them, eyes falling to the crumpled body laying unconscious in a heap on the floor. She sighed heavily and rubbed her temple, tongue tutting against her teeth as she shook her head at his splayed out body. She just couldn't help it, it was illogical, it was unbelievable, and a sudden, long, hard laugh erupted from between her lips and rang through the cavernous holding cell. The deep, rich sound bubbled up from low in her belly and rocked her to her core until she doubled over and gasped for air, a wide, hyena-like grin still plastered on her face when she finally straightened up once more. The subject had already proved himself to be infinitely more difficult, more dangerous, and more revolutionary than she had ever anticipated, and it only made her want to seize control of this inexplicable power all the more. She kneeled beside his body, checking the pulse on his throat, and heaved a disbelieving breath as she noted his heart rate was now sitting steadily at a borderline comatose 15 beats per minute. "My, my, what am I going to do with you, Sigma?"

---

When Sigma awoke, he was laying in his cot in the holding cell, an optical heartbeat monitor strapped to one arm, an intravenous drip of what felt like a mixture of saline and mild sedative hooked into the other, and a thin sheet pulled over his body, up to his chest. No straps, no chemical coma. He blinked blearily and attempted to sit up, but only managed to prop himself up on his elbows, far enough to take note of the fiery haired doctor who seemed to be typing something out on a mobile holopad at a small writing desk. The quickening of the heart rate monitor caught her attention, and she looked over her shoulder, an easy smile gracing her mouth as she rose and walked over to his bedside with her holopad in hand.

"Ah, hello Sigma. How wonderful to see you're awake. Your vital signs were becoming extremely concerning there for a moment, and that's not even mentioning your severe dehydration and malnutrition, or the obvious distress our initial introduction placed on your already strained psychological state. I do apologize for that. This was far from my first choice of locale for our initial consultation, so much tension in the air here." He stared at her blankly, it had been so long since he had been conversed with so flippantly, months, possibly years, though it often felt like multiple eternities. The static still throbbed in his head, the melody that wafted through him a soft undercurrent, while the medication she had him hooked up to was like a bubble making the whole symphony sound like it came from underwater. "These living conditions are deplorable." She continued with a glance around the cell, when it became apparent he was sorely unaccustomed to friendly conversation.

"Do you have any idea where you are?" He responded only with silence, and a slow shake of his head. "You're in a holding facility in the middle of a Soviet wilderness, about a mile underground. This facility is owned by Talon, the organization that arranged your... transfer, from the institution where you were being illegally detained." Conveniently, she made no mention of the legal status of the facility they were currently inhabiting. "Essentially, you're currently in the middle of fuck-all nowhere." Still wearing that sage smile, she pulled up a chair, sitting close to his bedside. He remembered the image of her body colliding against the mirrored wall of the cell and crumpling like a doll, how the white of her eye exploded with crimson as he tightened his hold on her, the sound her bones made when they cracked on impact. Yet here she was, intact and spirited, with a conspiratorial look in her mismatched eyes. What was she? Was she even real?

"The way Talon sees it, you have two options. You can stay here," She gestured around the spacious yet stark holding cell, most of the room taken up by medical equipment she had requested be set up before her arrival, otherwise only inhabited by a few basic amenities. "-Doing whatever it is you've been doing so far." She paused, the corners of her smile curling up as she leaned in a notch closer. "Or, you can return with me to Talon headquarters in Rome, and assist me in developing a long-term recovery regiment for you, implemented under my personal supervision. You'll be provided with higher quality living arrangements, personal amenities, and the finest psychological and medical care Talon can buy, curated by yours truly." She sat back in her chair, flitting her eyes back down to her holopad, finishing the last of her report for the consultation. "All I ask in return is your cooperation during the rehabilitation process, of course." Glancing up from her pad, she hovered the stylus over it, locking eyes with Sigma, pausing before she checked off the last box on the report. "So, what do you say, Sigma? Would you like to leave here with me?"

He stared at her for a long moment, the oscillations in his mind not disappearing, but dissipating enough that he understood the offer that was being made. He could stay here and flounder through fractals and visions until the glass finally cracks, and they either shove him down into an even deeper hole in the ground, or worse, put him back in induced stasis and let him drown in the melody, alone and lost, falling forever. Conversely, he could take the doctor's offer, and face whatever plans she had for him. The choice was his. It felt like the first choice he'd had in a long time. And it was an easy one.

"Yes, doctor. I would like that."

She smiled, and with a flick of her stylus, checked off that final box. "In that case, you may feel free to call me Moira."

———

OP: This will become shippy eventually. I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this but expect more chapters forthcoming :3c

#overwatch #moira overwatch #overwatch fanfic #sigmoira #sigma #moira odeorain #sigma x moira #ow sigma #ow moira #moira x sigma #seibren de kuiper #moira x seibren #seibren x moira #overwatch fanfiction

60 notes · View notes

clownbeep · 5 years

Text

This is gonna be kinda brutal. But I want to put it into writing

Big vent/whats been going on

Hah... I guess this is like my life story or some shit...

Trigger warning ahead.. Depression and a bit of gore/suicide talk so if you are sensitive to that please, for your own sake and mental state you might not want to continue.

For those who dont want to hear a pretty dark vent, I understand.

And those who are just scrolling by feel free to scroll past. I just personally want to get this out.

If you have dealt with emotional neglect/abuse and need to know it isnt in your head this might be the post.

By writing this it feels like hopefully someone else will read this and realise certain things are NOT healthy.

If you are questioning if you are being emotionally neglected/abused (im speaking in a parental sense but even romantically or sexually) im not someone to give you answers, but the fact you are questioning it raises some red flags. In a healthy relationship you dont wonder those things.

Sorry for the long prelude but heres what I wanted to say

Ever since I was young, ive had bad ADHD, manic bipolar/depression, and sensory issues.

I was diagnosed around 13 I believe. My family (I didnt realise it then) always showed pity. Like I was some wild animal that couldnt be tamed and there was nothing they could do. Id do and say stupid attention seeking things just to try and get a shred of empathy.

My family didnt care.

When I was in the hospital for a suicide attempt regaurding pills and my liver had a chance of failing.. None of my family members cried over me. But a family friend. Someone not. Even. Related. Wept over me.

My family didnt care.

I cant say they never cared. They give me food water and luxuries like internet and a phone. For that I am grateful.

But in many other ways they have hurt me faar more than helped.

Once I got out of a short term stay in an inpatient mental facility I desperately needed contact with anyone who would care for me.

I have a younger sister, quite young probably around 7 at the time. She was a close friend of mine for that time. Id hang out with her so often to fill the gap in love it felt my family didnt give. One day I walked into the dining room and overheard my mother and father talking to my little sister. They told her to keep away because I wasnt "stable" because I was "dangerous" and could give her bad Ideas. And with one single action my only friend at the time and way to find happiness was taken away.

My family did not care.

When I stay in bed every day for months on end not knowing which day ill snap and end it all.... I get called lazy.

My family did not care

When I beg for medication to make me a functional human being they brush me off for years on end. Im losing my grip. I can barely remember things that have happened last week because I try so hard to forget everything its my automatic response to everything.

When I cant get to sleep because all of the memories come flooding back and im hit by wave after wave of horrific memories and the feeling if worthlessness... When I cant watch any videos or read posts about families because it brings on unwanted memories and emotions....

Is it me being dramatic then?

When you hear your family openly mocking and laughing about how stupid and dramatic and fake trans people are... How weird and unnatural and mentally insane these people are not knowing they are the very reason grsm and trans suicides are so high...

Am I a liar now? Am I insane?

When I tried to talk to them about my mental health issues. They took my only way of contact and made me feel like it was my own fault.

My family didnt care.

When I was nearly passed out shaking in a bathtub covered in wounds and blood all over... They showed pity, then lectured me for an hour for not telling them or for being impulsive and basically cleaned my wounds and sent me into my room.

My family didnt care.

Yes. I do agree, they cleaned my wounds, the physical side of showing care. However emotionally they were not there.

When my father drinks so heavilly every day he is home from work that he forgets half the things he tells you and can barely function.. They lecture my older sister for having a glass of wine (legal age)

They did not care.

My sister (23) tried for so many years to cling to what little attention she would get by getting good grades and going to college... She realised that it changed nothing about how my family felt toward her.... She snapped.

My family did not care.

She starves herself for a disease she does not have, she uses religion as an exuse to be one of the biggest christian extremists I personally know. Half the days she doesnt eat... Other days she burns book and gets rid of items for being demonic.

My lovely sister used to be kind and quite normal. However she couldnt find comfort in what little live her family gave. Starved for care she turned to religion to un unhealthy degree. Finding any way to keep her mind busy. Now I worry she will end up in the hospital for weighing so little.

My family did not care.

My oldest sister (27) Is married to a continuously cheating husband who she keeps letting back into her life. She was raised with a failing marrige and doesnt seem to see when she should call it quits.

Not to mention her husband has touched someone legally under the age of concent. Did she report him to the authorities? No.

All of these horrific things stemming from bad parenting. Unhealthy relationships and neglect.

Neglect emotionally can cause just as bad things as physical neglect. They are both horrifically dangerous in different ways.

These are the only big things I can remember... Basically age 15 and below are a complete blur to me and I cant remember much of it without thinking for a looong time. Even then I cant remember a lot of it... I feel like ive lost my whole damn childhood. And it hurts more than if they had just hit me or physically harmed me.

Im not underplaying physically harm. But in my personaly opinion I would rather my family have beaten me badly because at least then id have an easier way to prove to people how severe the abuse was. You can see bruises and confirm broken bones... But years of feeling completely useless and being shut off from most of the world other than the internet... It fucks you up in a way I dont think can be healed.

I dont know if I can ever love myself or... Remember things. Its terrifying to think Ill post this and a few weeks later probably not even rememner unless its brought up. Or meeting people and having conversations... And they are just... Gone.

Gone.

I suppose the biggest reason im writing this is well... In the future I dont want to forget in some ways.. I want like to be 100× as awesome knowing itll start as soon as im out of here..

If I dont have anything to compare it too then what is the point?

Ive layed out basically most of what I remember

A large amount of time I look around and nothing registers... Everything is familiar but I cant remember anything for a moment or two.. I feel like my memory is slipping so fast and im terrified.. I cant do anything to stop it and I cant make my mood be stable without the medication my family cant be bothered to get ...

I suppose this is a bit of a vent. I know its kind of everywhere and unorganized..

If im honest.. Tumblr is the only place where people have given me a home I wish I had..

I came out as trans here... Everyone was so damn supportive.. I didnt say anything but I cried hard and the kindness.. It was amazing.. It was such a jarring difference to how I feel when I say anything in real life.

Ive met friends here and ive had some much fun here. If youve stuck around this far thank you so much.. If you didnt I dont blame you.

I just wanted to share what has been flashing in my head these past few days.. It hurts a lot and ive even considered suicide recently..

Im trying hard. As hard as I can.. I have no escape though.

I cannot leave home. I cannot escape. Im not being dramatic.

CANT

LEAVE

And its terrifying because I know without medication or at least being somewhere AWAY from family.... I feel like im going to break soon.

I dont want to do anything stupid.. But some days I cant think straight and do things that harm myself and its not good. Its not okay. Im aware that I need help but I have no idea where to go/turn.. I have no ID or drivers liscence.. I have no transportation to and from a job to get money so I can leave... I live in the middle of nowhere.... I just..

I dont want to lose touch. I dont want to do anything bad.. I want to be functional.. I want to do more than eat and sleep my life away because I have nothing else to do..

Im so damn sick and tired of this all.. And at times I really do feel like there is only one way out.

Its always there and I just feel like one of these days im gonna be pushed over the edge and not be thinking clearly enough to stop it.

Im thinking semi clearly right now which is my im posting this.. Because im afraid and alone.

I have nowhere to go irl I have no friends Irl i just have tumblr and media and thats it. I dont expect anyone to be able to help I just wanted to write this so anyone knows what happens if I leave media..

If I tell my family my issues they will blow me off again for the 11th time or so (not exaggerated)

And if I do something to get sent to the hospital and get the help I need the cycle will continue with them being pissed and me getting sent home in a month or less anly for my family relationships to get worse..

Im spiraling fuether and further and I cant keep up the facade of being fine. I need help. And i have no way to get it. Ive just been suffering for years...

Sitting around and doing nothing but using your phone or drawing or whatever sound fun in theory... But if thats all youve been able to do for years with little to no real life social contact its gonna mess with your head... I dont want to be a shut in... I just

I dont know what to do.

Im sorry for rambling. I will most likely delete this later feeling embarrassed I posted this...

Im just tired..

#trigger warning #triggering #may be triggering #vent #emotional neglect #emotional abuse #suicide #suicide trigger #gore warning #memory problems #ramble #rambles

44 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 5 years

Text

424

A health survey. Must be fun.

What health problems do you have right now? Well my back is a bitch 24/7; my joints hurt when it gets cold; I have scoliosis; and mentally speaking I’m not very stable either. I sound 60. Are you in chronic pain? Never been diagnosed with such, no. What do you take medications for? I don’t. I probably need to, but the state of mental health care in the Philippines is just so inaccessible: it’s expensive, available services are few and far between, and anyone younger than 21 needs to get written consent from their parents, which can be difficult if someone’s parents don’t actually believe in mental health issues. There is a lot of work to be done. What are some health issues you have had in the past? My lactose intolerance was a problem when I was an infant. My family didn’t know I had it, so they kept panicking when I would just poop out all the milk they fed me all day and when my stomach would end up storing nothing. It got critical and I had to be sent to the hospital, but it turned out well after. Do you have allergies? Nope. Free to eat and be in contact with anything.

If so, what are you allergic to? Have you ever been to an allergist? No, never had to. Have you ever been to the ER? Mmm nope, never been in an emergency situation. Have you ever been treated poorly in the ER? Have you ever been told your symptoms were anxiety, when they weren't? I haven’t been tested for that. When I was doing my health exam for university though, they did review my mental health and suspected me of having depression, but they didn’t declare symptoms or formally diagnose me or anything. What is the most physically painful thing you've ever experienced? Probably scraping and kicking my feet against coral reefs when I went snorkeling back in ‘09. I had no flippers and I was panicking (I wasn’t used to using the snorkeling mask to breathe) so I was thrashing my legs around in the water. I knew I was hitting the coral reefs and they were fucking sharp, but I was panicking so I powered through even though it meant I had to hit them every time I kicked. It was painful while I was swimming and even more painful in the weeks that followed. It was the worst infected wound I’ve ever had. Just imagine kicking a razor-sharp boulder with your bare feet. How many surgeries have you had? Zero. I hope I never need any, the thought of surgery terrifies me. What types of surgery have you had? Have you always recovered well from surgery? Have you ever been treated poorly by a doctor? YES!!! The ones in my university’s health service are horrible. Case in point, my health exam for admission to UP: I know it’s part of a doctor’s job, but the doctor assigned to me back then touched my breasts very hastily to check for suspicious bumps. It would have helped tons if 1) she gave me a heads-up beforehand and 2) asked permission, but this lady just told me to lie down and went ahead to stick her hand under my shirt. As someone who had only been fresh out of Catholic school at that point, it was the perfect opportunity to panic. Same doctor was the one who suspected I was depressed after reviewing my mental health form, but instead of being helpful she DEMANDED reasons why I felt that way. I was already uncomfortable with the boob incident by then and was too stunned to speak, so I just kept saying I was fine and that I was mentally stable. In reality I just wanted to get out from that nasty old bitch. Have you ever had a doctor tried to kill you? Oh well that’s just taking it a million times further. No. Is your primary care doctor a man or a woman? I don’t have one. Have you had the same primary care doctor your whole life? We don’t have a family doctor. Are you happy with your current doctor? Have you ever seen a specialist for anything? X-ray technicians. I had trips to see them the most when we found out I had scoliosis. What is the most itchiest thing you have ever experienced? I had weird rashes on my legs one time in high school, and since I was stubborn I kept scratching them until they turned into nasty black and blue wounds/bruises and cuts. I still have no idea where they came from. Have you ever had a severe itch, that you'd rate a 10? ^ That. On a scale of 1-10, what's the worst physical pain you've ever been in? The coral reef incident is an easy 20. Have you ever passed out from pain? Noooooo. Passing out from pain is one of my greatest fears. I avoid encountering anything painful as much as I can just because I’m scared of the thought of passing out because of pain. Have you ever thrown up from pain? Nope. Just from drinking and expired barbecue lmfao. Do you have any food intolerances? If so, to what? It’s not official, but I hate fruits. Like, I can immediately tell if something has fruit in it and I will spit it out accordingly. That and raisins. Do you have any food sensitivities? If so, to what? Nope. What medications are you allergic to? Do you have acne? A small pimple shows up every now and then (mostly when I’m stressed or if my face gets oily) but it’s never been a full-on breakout. I’ve been lucky when it comes to acne. Do you take birth control pills? I don’t. I want to take them just because I heard it makes your breasts get bigger hahahahahaha but Gab is adamant about not letting me take them. Are your hormones screwed up? Mm no, they’re not that bad. Obviously they act up when I’m nearing or on my period e.g. cravings, crying all the time, being sensitive about everything, but not to the point that my period is irregular or gives me severe dysmenorrhea. Do you have bad withdrawals from medications? I don’t take meds to begin with. What are some withdrawal symptoms you've had? What are some bad side effects of medications that you've had? Have you ever gained weight from a medication? If so, how much? Have you ever had to take Prednisone? Never even heard of it. If so, did it make you gain weight and make your face puff up? Looks like I’m skipping lots of questions. How many hours a sleep do you need? Don’t adults need 8 hours, in general? How many hours a sleep do you get? I try to make it to 8, but I’ve been really busy for this semester that it ends up being 5-7 hours instead. Do you exercise enough? I don’t at all, haaaaaaaaaaah. Do you eat healthy? I do like vegetables and will happily eat salads and sandwiches with veggies packed in them, but I tend to balance it out with grossly unhealthy food anyway, so you decide if this still counts as healthy. Are you on a special diet for your health? No, I don’t think I need to be. Are you trying to lose weight or gain weight? Gain, which I’m on the way to doing. I’m a little chubbier now compared to high school. Are you a healthy weight? I’m 90 lbs. the last time I checked. Relative to my height, that’s underweight. Are you happy with your weight? Sure, but gaining a few pounds wouldn’t hurt either. How often do you wash your hair? Everyday if I’m in school; every other day if I’m on summer break. Do you take showers or baths? Showers. How often do you shower or bathe? ^ Same thing. Do you take vitamins? If so, which ones? I used to take two vitamin syrups everyday when I was younger: one for vitamin C and the other to help me grow taller. When I got a little older my mom changed our usual syrups to these cute vitamin C gummy bears, then after a while I just stopped taking. What bones have you broken? Haven’t broken any, fortunately. What's the worst physical injury you've had? Aside from my icky foot infection, I had a bad fall in school a few months ago and my ankle got sprained pretty bad. I don’t think I gave it A+ treatment so it never really fully healed. I know this because the same foot still hurts whenever it’s in an odd position or when I shift too much of my weight on it. Do you have sensitive skin? Yes. It eventually gets itchy when my skin is out in the open. In high school, I often had a hard time walking from point A to B because my skin would always get irritated, but I couldn’t scratch it because I was wearing a skirt. What chemicals make you sick? Toxic ones, I would assume? Haha. What time of year do you usually get sick? I never get sick. What's the highest fever you've ever had? 40ºC. It was a dengue scare. Have you ever had the flu? Sure, a few times here and there. Have you ever had bronchitis? Nope. Have you ever had an ear infection? I don’t remember having one. Do you snore? Only when I’m so tired that I’m 130% passed out. What pain reliever do you use for cramps? My menstrual cramps never get that bad. If you're female, what symptoms do you get when on your period? My pelvis area and legs hurt; I cry over everything; I’m sensitive when people are angry; I will essentially take everything personally; my cravings either change every 5 minutes or I just want one food and I will murder to get such craving; I get very poopy; and sometimes I’ll get very drowsy. Do you have regular periods? Pretty much, yes. Sometimes they’ll be a few days early or late but very rarely does it go completely irregular. Are you afraid of shots? Deathly afraid. Like I would do everything to avoid having to take them. Have you ever donated blood? No. Even if I wanted to, I’m not allowed to (underweight). Plus you have to be pricked for that, which is a Huge No-No for me. Do you do well with shots? If I absolutely have to have a shot, I can manage albeit with a lot of fidgeting. What I’m terrible with is IV. I had a huge meltdown the one and only time I needed to have a needle injected onto my wrist. I was a 12 year old grown ass person thrashing around in the hospital room lol. What x-rays have you had? Just my spine. Have you ever gotten a pill or a piece of food stuck in your throat? Pill-stuck-in-throat sensation happens sometimes, but it’s never been anything serious. What method of birth control do you use, if applicable? Do you take birth control to control hormones, or to prevent pregnancy? As mentioned, I don’t take it. How often does your hair need to be washed? I don’t know about need, but I wash it everyday or every other day so that it doesn’t get oily, which feels irritating. What do you keep on hand for emergencies? I don’t really keep stuff for emergency, just money hahaha. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? Nopes. If so, what were your symptoms? Have you ever used an epi pen? I have not. Have you ever been to the ER for a severe allergic reaction? Negative. What's the worst burn you've ever had? When I was 7, I wanted to do something daring so I touched a clothes iron that was plugged in and was in use (by my grandma, but she left to attend to something at the time). My index finger rightfully had a tiny blister for the next two weeks. My dumbass definitely deserved it. What's the worst allergic reaction you've ever had? No allergies. Have you had any health-related embarrassing moments? I don’t think anything bad enough has happened yet. If so, what happened? (if you want to share) Do you use tampons or pads? Pads. I’m scared of tampons. Do you sweat a lot? I don’t, actually. I drink a lot of water, but I guess I just don’t sweat much. Do you get nosebleeds? I’ve never experienced a nosebleed and am also too scared to get one. Do you get motion sickness? Pretty easily, especially if I’m riding an unfamiliar car. Do you have acne? I get a pimple every now and then but it’s not a big issue. Do you have scars? Sure. There’s one on my fourth right toe and the other one on my left eyebrow. What are some of your scars from? Toe scar is from when my toes got stuck in my bike’s blades (something like that, anyway); eyebrow scar is from a stupid cousin smashing a small glass bottle towards my face. Do you have a birthmark? If so, what color is it? I have a brown one behind my left shoulder. I also have one near my elbow; it used to be blue/green but now it’s a faint black-ish shade. What makes your eyes itch? Uh, dirt? I also know if I’ve been spending too much time in front of the computer when my eyes start feeling irritated. That’s usually my signal to go to bed or to have a break. Are you ticklish? Very. I can’t be tickled on any part of my body. Do you have a sweet tooth? I have my moods, but overly sweet food isn’t really a favorite of mine. Do you ever crave chocolate? Never, actually. I can crave sweet stuff like brownies and cookies, but never chocolate bars. Do you ever crave cheese? No. Lactose intolerance makes me wary of cheese so I never really ~crave it. What else, if anything, do you get cravings for? I usually crave for cuisines in general or specific restaurants. Do you drink enough water? Yeah I’m pretty sure I do. Do you comfort eat when stressed? It varies. Sometimes I’ll rely on eating, but other times I’ll lose my appetite and wouldn’t want to be anywhere near food. How old were you when you started your period? I was 9 but was about to turn 10. How old were you when you started going through puberty? I am guessing the same age when I had my period, but everything sped up only when I was 10/11. What was the first sign of puberty for you? ...My period? Did your hair change when you went through puberty? Hair started to grow in places, but as for changes, not really. At what time of day do you normally feel your best? I don’t really keep track lol. Are you naturally optimistic or pessimistic? Um both, depending on my mood for the day. It never stays constant. Are you naturally energetic? I’m naturally un-energetic. Looking at extroverts exhausts me. Does your mind wander a lot? Only when I’m bored at something, like in a certain class. I can generally focus well. Do you know your blood type? I don’t actually hah. Have you ever been taken to the hospital against your will? Nope. Any final thoughts? Cool survey. It’s different.

#survey #surveys

3 notes · View notes

griefxaddict · 6 years

Text

Toil and die // Learn to say less

I feel like I’m wearing thin, abandoned in an ocean of my own making. Every man is an island and there’s no escaping. There’s a million excuses carved into my skin and I can’t find an answer to my constant failings.

They shouted “man overboard!” and pushed me over the railings when they got sick of waiting.

Everybody’s sick of watching me breaking.

I’m sick of the hating. There’s a hole in the hull anyway, soon they’ll all be taken.

I should have taken the medication, but now my mental health is waning.

Everything about me is degrading,

and I solemnly swear to never stop complaining.

—

So hold me under the waves, I’m already drowning in sin. I reached inside myself for strength but I found nothing.

I’m sick of holding my blood in,

it’s making me ill.

There’s a huge difference between being,

and doing.

I’m barely human at all anymore, watch me crumble.....I am slowly becoming a ruin.

—

There’s no reason to keep breathing. My lungs are full of regret and I’ve lost my grip on meaning. I’m barely alive anymore, I’m falling apart and nobody believes me.

Only silence replies to my screaming.

Just let me sleep.

I wish I’d never learned how to stop dreaming.

—

I’m easy to hate these days, and it’s easy to get confused by what I say. It’s just the same thing repeating in a million different ways.

It’s hard to give meaning to the pain, when you’re standing in tears in the doorway, with a knife in your hand, aimed at the vein. We’ve all had a shit day, there’s a million ways to show it, there’s no need to explain.

Maybe it is refreshing to not complain.

But this isn’t about you, I promise. Sometimes I just need to remind myself that I’m ok.

—

I practiced sacred rituals to solve this mystery, but if there was ever a point to all of this I think I missed it.

I still believe there’s a profound beauty in simply existing.

—

Be still, and know that we are all god.

II.

Maybe I’m being reborn.

I’m working through the struggle to find my final form. I still feel the storm, and I’m swimming towards the shore. There’s no telling what tonight has in store. The devil is coming for us all.

My bones are too close to the surface,

and my skin is torn.

There’s blood in the water.

The sharks are circling.

They’re always first to answer the desperation call.

—

But I can see you’re growing bored.

You’ve been waiting such a long time to watch me fall.

—

If I ever reach the beach I’ll kiss the sand with my knees and start to crawl.

III.

If somehow I manage to escape, I will feel no shame. I’m already feeling quite rested, in a way. A few days of silence does wonders for the brain, even one in such a broken state it begs for the grave.

I was getting sick of my own voice anyway.

I’m sick of the monotony, but I’m terrified of change.

IV.

We all create our own chaos within ourselves.

We are all warmongers in our own private hell.

We dilute ourselves with every fight, while we delude ourselves that we’re always right.

We’ve left ourselves behind, and become slaves to our own minds.

We answer only to the voices inside, we fear the coming night, and the slow inevitable march of time.

—

Between the sinking shadows there are echoes. Goddamn I feel old.

There’s an ache in my bones.

It’s cold and I’m ready to go home.

I’ve been awake for days. I’m half starved and half crazed, and barely even find the time to be amazed at how I handle my own pain.

—

I’ve been away a long time, and maybe all of this means nothing, but sometimes it just feels good to say something.

—

I hear you whisper,

I feel you lurking in the shadows behind me.

Whoever you are, I’m waiting, come find me.

#poetry #spilled ink #poetryriot #twc #poets on tumblr

53 notes · View notes

e8luhs · 6 years

Text

WOKE UP NEW.

LISTEN ON SPOTIFY

TRACKLIST & ANNOTATIONS UNDER THE CUT! (last edited 03.16.19)

I. ARE YOU SATISFIED? / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

cause it’s my problem if i want to pack up and run away it’s my business if i feel the need to smoke and drink and swear it’s my problem, it’s my problem if i feel the need to hide and it’s my problem if i have no friends and feel i want to die

II. LIFESPAN / VAULTS

oh, you took what you wanted to take and yet you never wanted nothing from me oh, you took what you wanted to take and yet you never wanted nothing from me

III. RAIN IN SOHO / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

no promise sweeter than a blood pact nothing harder to go through than a vanishing act no morning colder than the first frost no friends close than the ones we've lost

IV. LEMON GLOW / BEACH HOUSE

read my fortune too, tell me what you see cross it like a t it's all the same to me this game i play, i do it every day i promise I'll be fine, bear it every time

V. SATELLITE MIND / METRIC

i’m not suicidal i just can't get out of bed i drift into a deep fog lost where i forgot to hold it i can feel you most when i'm alone i can feel your ghost when i'm alone

VI. PEDESTRIAN AT BEST / COURTNEY BARNETT

my internal monologue is saturated analog it's scratched and drifting, i've become attached to the idea it's all a shifting dream, bittersweet philosophy i've got no idea how I even got here i'm resentful, I'm having an existential time crisis want bliss, daylight savings won't fix this mess under-worked and over-sexed, i must express my disinterest the rats are back inside my head, what would freud have said?

VII. BORN TO LOSE / SLEIGH BELLS

took a shot to the head in the back near the crib such a legend now, you were born to lose ‘cause i know that the pain keeps you close to the flame you know everything, you were born to lose

VIII. STICKS AND STONES / THE PIERCES

sticks and stones will break your bones and leave you lying in the mud but you get scared when we're alone, like i might suck your blood and i could tell you a witch's spell but it just might blow your top and you start to run just as I'm having fun and it's awfully hard to stop, it's awfully hard to stop

IX. BLACK OUT DAYS / PHANTOGRAM

speak in tongues i don't even recognize your face mirror on the wall tell me all the ways to stay away

X. THE OUTSIDER / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

i look myself in the face and whisper "i'm in the wrong place" is there more to lose than gain if i go on my own again? (on my own again)

XI. SPELLBOUND / SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES

following the footsteps of a rag doll dance we are entranced spellbound

XII. ARTIFICIAL NOCTURNE / METRIC

i’m just as fucked up as they say i can't fake the daytime i found an entrance to escape into the dark got false lights for the sun it's an artificial nocturne an outsider's escape for a broken heart

XIII. AUTOCLAVE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

i am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam and no emotion that's worth having could call my heart its home my heart's an autoclave my heart's an autoclave

XIV. BAD DREAMS / PHANTOGRAM

bad things never neglect me i'm just a scene in a movie bad thoughts never arrest me i'm just a flash in a memory

XV. BEAT (HEALTH, LIFE, AND FIRE) / THAO & THE GET DOWN STAY DOWN

and oh my gunpowder and with emergency i must battle without her she is surely killing me

XVI. EVERY TEAR DISAPPEARS / ST. VINCENT

oh, the more that i struggle i'm deeper in the pit if i can show a hand then i can show a fist call the twenty-first century, tell her “give us a break”

XVII. FIREWORKS / MITSKI

one morning this sadness will fossilize and i will forget how to cry i'll keep going to work and you won't see a change save, perhaps, a slight gray in my eye

XVIII. UNICORN TOLERANCE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and when the clouds do clear away get a momentary chance to see the thing i've been trying to beat to death the soft creature that i used to be the better animal i used to be

XIX. GROW UP AND BLOW AWAY / METRIC

if this is the life why does it feel so good to die today? blue to gray grow up and blow away

XX. NUMB / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

i feel numb most of the time lower i get, the higher i'll climb and i will wonder why i got dark only to shine looking for the golden life oh, it's a reasonable sacrifice

XXI. AMERICAN DREAM / EMILY HAINES & THE SOFT SKELETON

grab your clothes and head to the doorway if you dance out, no one complains find the place where you can be boring where you won't need to explain that you're sick in the head, and you wish you were dead or at least instead of sleeping here you prefer your own bed, come on you just suck at self-preservation versus someone else's pain

XXII. WEAR BLACK / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

wear black when it's light outside wear black when there's no light wear black following the left hand path wear black but i get right

XXIII. SPAT OUT SPIT / LADY LAMB

was i born wild? have i been asleep this whole damn time, dreaming up a life? will i awake to find that I'm deep in the woods? and i'm snarling on all fours

XXIV. MEDULLA OBLONGATA / BUKE & GASE

since i left you with these broken fingers broken tongue broken ears from not listening false hopes and happiness in the barrel of my god

XXV. PARIS IS BURNING / ST. VINCENT

they say, “i’m on your side when nobody is, 'cause nobody is come sit right here and sleep while i slip poison in your ear”

XXVI. IN THE CRATERS ON THE MOON / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

if the strain proves too much give up right away if the light hurts your eyes stay in your room all day

XXVII. GETAWAY / MOTHER MOTHER

we gotta get away from it all we gotta get away from everything we've grown to know we gotta get gone like on a holiday, but for longer away from all the silly things that haunt us

XXVIII. YOUR FACE LEFT BEFORE YOU / BUKE & GASE

breaking down my brick wall brain nothing worse than everything to gain too bad it's not my turn you've got witches to burn

XXIX. FUNERAL PYRE / PHANTOGRAM

my funeral pyre my ship of fire as it sinks, i rise all i see is your eyes

XXX. HOLLY / SLEIGH BELLS

wasted all day killing all the capulets!

XXXI. GUILTY / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

oh i’m a guilty one, and know what i have done yeah, i'm a troubled one, and i won't be forgiven

XXXII. KILLER / PHOEBE BRIDGERS

can the killer in me tame the fire in you? is there nothing left to do for us? i am sick of the chase, but i'm hungry for blood and there's nothing i can do

XXXIII. TIPTOE / THE ANTLERS

[instrumental]

XXXIV. GOODBYE, MY DANISH SWEETHEART / MITSKI

now i lay as i study a blank wall would you spare me your voice if i call? ‘cause you waited and watered my heart till it grew you just grew a little smarter too

XXXV. HERMIT THE FROG / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

yeah i feel i’m watered down whenever he's around i put on the crown of clowns and melt slowly to the ground

XXXVI. LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR / MITSKI

you wouldn't leave till we loved in the morning you'd learned from movies how love ought to be and you'd say you love me and look in my eyes but i know through mine you were looking in yours

XXXVII. 9TH PAWN / OHO

i'm the 9th pawn of the chessboard take it apart, take it along, dark and light squares i'm the thirteenth labor of Hercules give it a try or give it up give it up to me

XXXVIII. HUMPTY / MITSKI

i'll live in the bathtub surrounded by tiles all so square and so steady i will die in their cool, cool arms

XXXIX. I FIRE MYSELF / MARY TIMONY

a demon lured me to his bed where i fell into a poison sleep i dreamed of a river of ants inside me and they were sad and started to bleed

XL. THE POINT OF IT ALL / AMANDA PALMER

“but no one can stare at the wall as good as you, my baby-doll and you're aces for coming along you're almost human, after all and you're learning that just 'cause they call themselves friends doesn't mean they'll call...” they made the comment in jest but you've got the needle i guess that's the point of it all

XLI. SQUARE / MITSKI

your room was square i once noticed from there in your bed, as you slept and i held my breath everything had its own place and i wondered; what space would i take, in the order you kept?

XLII. SAVIOR / ST VINCENT

adore you to the grave and farther honey, i can't be your martyr maybe it's just human nature but honey, i can't be your savior

XLIII. VALLEY OF THE DOLLS / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

in the valley of the dolls, we sleep got a hole inside of me living with identities that do not belong to me in my life, i got this far now i’m ready for the last hoorah dying like a shooting star in the valley

XLIV. STATUETTE / EMILY HAINES & THE SOFT SKELETON

with a feather in your cap another jewel in your crown another notch in your belt you’re the captain at the helm the statuette on your shelf says you’re better than me better than me

XLV. HAVE TO EXPLODE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

the stage is set, someone's going to do something someone else will regret i speak in smoke signals and you answer in code the fuse will have to run out sometime something here will eventually have to explode, have to explode

XLVI. THE BOX SONG / AMANDA PALMER

and you were sure that you could keep it all off in a tower where there’d always be space and you were sure that if you read it all you would eventually come across your own name

XLVII. I DON’T SMOKE / MITSKI

if you need to be mean, be mean to me i can take it and put it inside of me if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room you can lean on my arm as you break my heart

XLVIII. ICICLES / THE SCARY JOKES

but as for me, i can only be forgiven if im givin myself up to you on a silver serving tray must i bare myself to the stabbing of your knife and gnashing teeth, while our lovely company appears so entertained? ah yes, good etiquette demands i remain soft and accessible in the face of my own ending so i will try to be discreet; through my full-blown implosion, i’ll stay golden and retreat into my sweetest fantasy

XLIX. CODES AND KEYS / DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE

when you scream, “love you, see”, like a child throwing stones at the sky when they fall back to earth as minor chords of major works separate rooms of single life we are one we are alive

L. WASHING MACHINE HEART / MITSKI

baby, though i've closed my eyes i know who you pretend i am i know who you pretend i am

LI. THE KILLING TYPE / AMANDA PALMER

i couldn't kill to get you back and i've officially been asked i couldn't kill to save a life i'd rather a die a peaceful piece of shit-bait shame-filled coward, thanks

LII. HAVE IT OUT / MOTHER MOTHER

i have it out, i have it out, with myself, with myself, i have it out it's gonna get ugly it's gonna get messy it's gonna be world war iii of myself

LIII. CATABOLIC SEED / THE SCARY JOKES

oh i made a silly mistake (what'd you do?) i've given up more than i can take (uh oh!) and left hollows in my wake my structure's compromised but you still batter at all my fault lines i can't run, i can't hide, but you can't say i didn't try

LIV. DOPPELGANGER / THE ANTLERS

and now's he howling, but i'm muted by the horror how he's everywhere and waiting now he's just around the corner

LV. LEFT ALONE / FIONA APPLE

and now i'm hard, too hard to know i don't cry when i'm sad anymore, no no tears calcify in my tummy, fears coincide with the tow how can i ask anyone to love me when all i do is beg to be left alone?

LVI. HEEL TURN 2 / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

spend too much of my life now trying to play fair throw my better self overboard shoot at him when he comes up for air come unhinged get revenge i don't want to die in here i don't want to die in here

LVII. NOT ABOUT LOVE / FIONA APPLE

conversation once colored by esteem became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood took a vacation, my palate got clean now i could taste your agenda while you're spitting your cud

LVIII. SEVENTEEN / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

oh, you were embarrassed of me 'cause i used my tongue freely bet you wish i couldn't speak 'cause when i do, you know i tell you why you appear weak

LIX. YOUR WOMAN / WHITE TOWN

now i know your heart, i know your mind, you don't even know you're being unkind, so much for all your high brow marxist ways, just use me up and then you walk away boy, you can't play me that way

LX. DEADBODY / MIYA FOLICK

i need you to know i'm not powerless my strength lies within my gentleness and i'm already hurt so now i don't have to hide and i hold all the heads of my brothers and my sisters high

LXI. YOUR DOG / SOCCER MOMMY

i'm not a prop for you to use when you're lonely or confused i want a love that lets me breathe i've been choking on your leash

LXII. RIPE / SCREAMING FEMALES

i built this game to play and to pretend you are a dark machine and i'm a cog when engines crack, when fuel lines break off i'll save your bits and let your motor rot

LXIII. WINDOW / FIONA APPLE

i was staring out the window the whole time he was talking to me it was a filthy pane of glass i couldn't get a clear view and as he went on and on it wasn't the outside world i could see just the filthy pane that i was looking through

LXIV. BLUE TRASH MATTRESS FIRE / SLEIGH BELLS

i'll do it, i'll jump not for kicks, not for fun but because this shit is too much it's fucking me up enough is enough, enough is enough!

LXV. BITE THE HAND / BOYGENIUS

who do you think you are? who do you think i am? what do you wanna say? what do you think will change? maybe i'm afraid of you maybe i'm afraid of you

LXVI. VENGEANCE / HOT SUGAR

[instrumental]

LXVII. EYES ON FIRE / BLUE FOUNDATION

i'm taking it slow feeding my flame shuffling the cards of your game and just in time, in the right place suddenly i will play my ace

LXVIII. NO CHILDREN / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and i hope when you think of me years down the line you can't find one good thing to say and i'd hope that if i found the strength to walk out you'd stay the hell out of my way

LXIX. FUCK WAS I / JENNY OWEN YOUNGS

love grows in me like a tumor parasite bent on devouring its host i’m developing my sense of humor till i can laugh at my heart between your teeth till i can laugh at my face beneath your feet

LXX. SERPENTS / SHARON VAN ETTEN

serpents in my mind, i am searching for your crimes everything changes in time you'll stay frozen in time collaging girls, controlling minds you hold the mirror well to everybody else

LXXI. IF YOU FEEL BETTER / EMILY AUTUMN

if you feel better telling me i'm cruel saying i'm unfeeling i don't mind if it's necessary, if it helps you out crying that i'm heartless it's alright

LXXII. THE GOOD THAT WON’T COME OUT / RILO KILEY

i do this thing where i think i'm real sick but i won't go to the doctor to find out about it 'cause they make you stand real still in a real small place as they chartup your insides and put them on display they'd see all of it, all of me, all of it

LXXIII. THE BODY IS A BLADE / JAPANESE BREAKFAST

try your best to slowly withdraw from the darkest impulses of your heart try your best to feel and receive your body is blade that cuts a path from day to day

LXXIV. GET LONELY / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and i will go downtown, stand in the shadows of the buildings and button up my coat, trying to stay strong, spirit willing and i will come back home, maybe call some friends maybe paint some pictures it all depends and i will get lonely, and gasp for air and look up at the high windows, and see your face up there

LXXV. MOTION SICKNESS / PHOEBE BRIDGERS

i hate you for what you did and i miss you like a little kid i faked it every time but that's alright i can hardly feel anything i hardly feel anything at all

LXXVI. EMPTY / METRIC

sickness was fixing me some coughed out my heart in the last stall now that the damage is done i never miss it at all

LXXVII. TINDER / ORIGAMIBRO

[instrumental]

LXXVIII. REMEMBER MY NAME / MITSKI

'cause i need somebody to remember my name after all that i can do for them is done i need someone to remember me

LXXIX. THE EXECUTION OF ALL THINGS / RILO KILEY

soldiers come quickly, i feel the earth beneath my feet i'm feeling badly, but it's not an attempt at decency and if you're well off, well then i'm happy some for you but i'd rather not celebrate my defeat and humiliation here with you

LXXX. THE THUNDER ANSWERED BACK / Ó

i screamed out, “how'd it get this bad?” and the thunder answered back “if you know not what you lack then you must unturn your back your inside is overcast and you are tethered to your past and it must feel like fucking hell to be a patchwork of yourself a bunch of scraps thrown and sewn around your bones and though you're alone it's holding you too tightly but who are you? from where do you come? what do you believe in? and whom do you love?"

LXXXI. DIE HAPPY / METRIC

this city is thick with common thieves still passing around the same disease who's running this town and why are we? still drinking that kool-aid like it's free

LXXXII. ALL MY PRIDE / BLACK HONEY

all my scars will heal in time now he's gone with all my pride everybody's saying what i need to do but i haven't got a thing to prove, prove to you

LXXXIII. HEADS WILL ROLL / YEAH YEAH YEAHS

glitter on the west streets silver over everything the rivers all wet you're all chrome

LXXXIV. ART OF DOUBT / METRIC

you said "don't let your heart give out" no, i won't let my heart give out you said "don't let your breath run out" no, i won't let my breath run out

LXXXV. BLACK EYE/BURNT THUMB / METRONOMY

[instrumental]

LXXXVI. KLAPP KLAPP / LITTLE DRAGON

somebody from my heart sang i could turn off and never wake up and everything's clear, my breath made like-steam fake feel better fallin' apart, apart, apart, apart, apart

LXXXVII. VANISHING ACT / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

[instrumental]

LXXXVIII. AUBERGINE / LADY LAMB

i was unborn when i was younger i was unborn when i was younger but i was rebuilt when you spoke i awoke when you spoke

LXXXIX. PSYCHIC READER / BAD BAD HATS

when i look at you, i get a good vibration stay on the line until i hit your station i was meant for you so i can be patient, yeah

XC. BETS AGAINST THE VOID / THE SCARY JOKES

the sun is just a copper coin i flip in bets against the void imitating choice 'til i feel good again, i'll keep them in a tin can then i'll have copper coins to spare

XCI. GIRL / THE INTERNET

passion burning, causing rapture of laughter pressure building, falling faster and faster if i told you that you rock my world, i want you around me would you let me call you my girl? (my girlfriend, my girlfriend) i can give you the life you deserve, just say the word and i got you, baby i got you

XCII. BUZZCUT SEASON / LORDE

i remember when your head caught flame it kissed your scalp and caressed your brain well you laughed, baby it's okay it's buzz cut season anyway

XCIII. GEYSER / MITSKI

you're my number one you're the one i want and i've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come

XCIV. A KISS / THE BLOW

those dances that I did, they really weren't all that fun to do i only did them 'cause they were the only ones i knew they called me player, i just played who i thought i should be i'd still be her if you hadn't come and interrupted me from the kiss

XCV. CRANE YOUR NECK / LADY LAMB

and i placed my palm upon your collarbone and i wished to fall asleep deep in your marrow as gently as a mouse curled up in a ball as gently as a mouse until tomorrow

XCVI. DANCE YRSELF CLEAN (COVER) / MS MR

walking up to me expecting walking up to me expecting words, it happens all the time present company accepted present company, except the worst it happens every night

XCVII. SOFT SOUNDS FROM ANOTHER PLANET / JAPANESE BREAKFAST

in search of a soft sound from another planet in search of a quiet place to lay this to rest striving for goodness while the cruel men win there's no part of me left that can feel or hear it

XCVIII. A BETTER SON/DAUGHTER / RILO KILEY

and sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on and your friends, they sing along and they love you but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap and it teases you for weeks in its absence but you'll fight and you'll make it through, you'll fake it if you have to and you'll show up for work with a smile and you'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up and a better daughter or son, and a real good friend

XCIX. TRAUMA / HOT SUGAR

[instrumental]

C. WOKE UP NEW / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

the first time i made coffee for just myself, i made too much of it but i drank it all, just 'cause you hate it when i let things go to waste and i wandered through the house like a little boy, lost at the mall and an astronaut could've seen the hunger in my eyes from space

#plylsts #we are back in business baybee... no actual cover art this time though because im lazy. soz #ill probably add some at some point though. someday #cataclysmalbound #also literally so sorry for you mobile people out there but it had to be this way. glad you were all willing to sacrifice yourselves

28 notes · View notes

vegannerdgirl · 6 years

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could cite some references or help me give a good argument as to why Margarine won’t kill me? Every time I buy Margarine you’d think I insulted my mother personally. She goes on tangents about how horrible Margarine is, how it’s so unhealthy, how it’ll make me sick, all the research studies on why it’s bad, and frankly I don’t give a damn. I’ve used all the arguments “Dairy makes me sick. The dairy industry is cruel. I refuse to eat pig fat (yuck).” Nothing works!

There’s an article by the Mayo Clinic on why margarine is better than dairy butter (and it even says which margarine is the healthiest). My mom and aunt have been to the Mayo Clinic a few times for specialized surgery, and they’re pretty legit.

Here’s a list from Mark Hyman on his article “Dairy: 6 Reasons You Should Avoid It at All Costs or Why Following the USDA Food Pyramid Guidelines is Bad for Your Health”:

According to Dr. Willett, who has done many studies and reviewed the research on this topic, there are many reasons to pass up milk, including:

1. Milk doesn’t reduce fractures.(i) Contrary to popular belief, eating dairy products has never been shown to reduce fracture risk. In fact, according to the Nurses’ Health Study dairy may increase risk of fractures by 50 percent!

2. Less dairy, better bones. Countries with lowest rates of dairy and calcium consumption (like those in Africa and Asia) have the lowest rates of osteoporosis.

3. Calcium isn’t as bone-protective as we thought.(ii) Studies of calcium supplementation have shown no benefit in reducing fracture risk. Vitamin D appears to be much more important than calcium in preventing fractures.

4. Calcium may raise cancer risk. Research shows that higher intakes of both calcium and dairy products may increase a man’s risk of prostate cancer by 30 to 50 percent.(iii) Plus, dairy consumption increases the body’s level of insulin-like growth factor-1 (IGF-1) — a known cancer promoter.

5. Calcium has benefits that dairy doesn’t. Calcium supplements, but not dairy products, may reduce the risk of colon cancer.(iv)

6. Not everyone can stomach dairy.(v) About 75 percent of the world’s population is genetically unable to properly digest milk and other dairy products — a problem called lactose intolerance.

Based on such findings, Dr. Willet has come to some important conclusions:

• Everybody needs calcium — but probably not as much as our government’s recommended daily allowance (RDA) and calcium from diet, including greens and beans is better utilized by the body with less risk than calcium supplements.

• Calcium probably doesn’t prevent broken bones. Few people in this country are likely to reduce their fracture risk by getting more calcium.

• Men may not want to take calcium supplements. Supplements of calcium and vitamin D may be reasonable for women.

• Dairy may be unhealthy. Advocating dairy consumption may have negative effects on health.

If all that isn’t enough to swear you off milk, there are a few other scientific findings worth noting. The Federal Trade Commission (FTC) recently asked the UDSA to look into the scientific basis of the claims made in the “milk mustache” ads. Their panel of scientists stated the truth clearly:

• Milk doesn’t benefit sports performance.

• There’s no evidence that dairy is good for your bones or prevents osteoporosis — in fact, the animal protein it contains may help cause bone loss!

• Dairy is linked to prostate cancer.

• It’s full of saturated fat and is linked to heart disease.

• Dairy causes digestive problems for the 75 percent of people with lactose intolerance.

• Dairy aggravates irritable bowel syndrome.

Simply put, the FTC asked the dairy industry, “Got Proof?” — and the answer was NO!

Plus, dairy may contribute to even more health problems, like:

• Allergies (vi)• Sinus problems• Ear infections• Type 1 diabetes (vii)• Chronic constipation (viii)• Anemia (in children)

That’s a pretty significant list when it comes to why not to consume dairy. I can personally verify that dairy aggravated my digestive tract, caused chronic constipation for years, and gave me sinus/ear issues that improved significantly once I stopped consuming all dairy products.

Documentaries like “Vegucated” and “Forks Over Knives” are great resources when it comes to explaining why people don’t eat dairy too. I hope that helps!

#dairy #milk #cheese #health #nutrition #vegan #anon #ask

83 notes · View notes

trevorrain · 6 years

Text

Recap

This is going to be a long text post. There is no TLDR.

About a week ago I expressed a few words of gratitude towards a follower. Thanking them for their time and for the content on their blog as well. They asked how the job was going and I couldn’t help but kind of laugh to myself when asked that.

The last post I made on the goings on of myself was over a year ago from now, I believe. Not really thinking that people might be interested since nobody is really asking unless prompted.

Warning: Below I talk about dementia and other not so very happy things. I just need to get this off my chest. Don’t keep reading if you have a sensitivity to these things. Lord knows I understand.

I just feel the need to kind of ‘recap’ what happened in greater detail. Even so, there’s much being left unsaid. I’ll make a follow up post where I talk about the most recent goings on in my life.

But this night is one where I’m lost in melancholy, and I’ve been meaning to talk about the few things that have been occupying my mind as of late.

But first, I want to clarify what had happened to me two years ago.

I was living with my parents. Helping to take care of them in a way. Having been born over a decade away from my nearest sibling in age. It was soon after moving to St. George Utah that my mother was diagnosed with Dementia that would turn into full blown Alzheimer syndrome. I was with her in the room during the diagnosis. For reasons that would take too long to explain, she wanted me to be there instead of my father, and I remember her holding my hand so very tight. She didn’t tell me where we were going and why.

It would be years still before she deteriorated to the point where she needed professional help. I knew I was inadequate to take care of her and pushed to have her admitted into a nursing home, or have skilled staff come to our home on a regular basis to give her the care she needed. Father’s insurance was not the best for helping long term. She had been admitted into a nursing facility temporarily while I worked on getting the neccisary papers to get medicaid approval.

Mother was a high fall risk. Rarely slept and would wander without caution. She sustained injuries as there was inadequate staff at the facility to watch her 24/7. She was in the hospital from those injuries when I was told she was approved the medicaid was approved. Just in time for her to be admitted into hospice. Due to the broken bones and bruising along with the rapid progression of her condition, she was not expected to last long.

The time period is fuzzy to me. It was either a week or two weeks before we were told her last day was fast approaching. Father and I stayed up most of the night, waiting and listening. Among the details I’m skimming over is the sound of her breathing. I remember that the most, but I imagine it would be very unpleasant to read about. It’s my fear of causing pain by my story that keeps me from telling it in detail. Even if I want to.

Father and I decided to get a few minutes of sleep. I woke up to dad tapping me on the shoulder. Mom waited until we were both asleep before passing away.

I had to stop typing for a few minutes after writing that.

The funeral was held that weekend. There was plenty of time to prepare. I returned home with my father, and we tried to figure things out from there. Tried alone, anyway. Father didn’t talk about his emotions, and we were different types of people. We weren’t close. Despite my hangups and so much that was never resolved between us, I still loved him.

He wasn’t eating much, so I tried to cook his favorite meals more often. He didn’t get out often, so I did most of the shopping. Doing what I could with a part time job. But understand that they both married when they were 21. They had been married for over 40 years.

One day I noticed he wasn’t feeling well. When trying to talk to him, he would respond with confusion, as if he didn’t understand what I was saying. He was acting strange. Due to the daily pain from extensive nerve damage from his working days, he would sleep in an easy chair rather than the bed. This night he chose the bed. I checked up on him the day after and found he hadn’t moved, and wasn’t responding to my questioning. I found things like the remote control he uses being put in the fridge and a few other abnormal signs of behavior.

I called the home healthcare people that were checking on him. They recommended I call an ambulance. I did.

He spent three days in the hospital and ended up recovering, but the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. They only found he was low on potassium, and recovered not long after they gave him the needed IV fluids. Discharged within 3 days.

A week, maybe two later, it happened again. A neighbor helped me get him into the car so I could drive him to the hospital this time. They ran almost every test they could think of on my father. He spent 7 days in the hospital this time before some recovery took place, and he only remembered the last 3 days of it. Again, it was low potassium. They couldn’t find the cause.

Should be noted that a psychologist saw my father while I was away, and he was convinced my father also had dementia of some kind that was overshadowed mother’s more advanced condition. I mentioned before my father never spoke about his feelings, not being one to believe in emotional health. Any question of his health when it came to mental or emotional was a lost cause.

And really, it was that kind of behavior I grew up with. But talking to my siblings, it’s possible that the parents that I grew up with were very different from those that raised my sisters and my brother. I’m... still processing this.

He was exhibiting late stage dementia. He never recovered fully from that last hospital visit.

The health home that took my mother in for hospice agreed to look after my father for a few weeks, and I was happy to hear this at the time. They could monitor his health much closer and with a more skilled eye than I had.

But my father's antiquated behavior towards women made the female staff uncomfortable, they didn’t feel safe around him, and I was called to pick him up within 24 hours.

Suddenly the care of a man three times my age was put upon me. I had taken the task in stride before now. I felt... oddly... older after my mother had past. Like I was stepping into a more adult role and I wanted to do well at it. I mentioned that getting my father in that facility was my way of figuring out how to better take care of him, I felt more in control. Then I get that call asking me to take him back. I was furious.

But I took him back. He wasn’t taking care of himself very well, so I doubled up on the groceries and the cooking. Trying to get him to eat with the little appetite he had. Setting up doctors appointments. He was complaining about his stomach hurting. Taking him to these appointments lead to him feeling very sick. He ended up cancelling one that I set up. I made him promise to go to the next one.

The day of the appointment is when he died. I found him sitting on the couch, pale. I knew something was wrong. I called an ambulance.

It’s harder for me to talk about dad passing more than it is with mom. I was closer to my mother, but the way my father passed, with the emotional burdens, the things the family found out in his medical records. It brings this whirlwind of emotion out, making this hard to write. Especially for how tired I am right now. Where I had weeks to say goodbye to mom, I lost my father to a heart attack in the middle of an Emergency room surrounded by doctors and technicians, being asked if they should keep doing chest compression, calling my sister because I couldn’t make a decision like that on my own.

It was made for me after they found he had bled out internally. Almost completely. There was no saving him.

I didn’t leave the hospital until after the mortuary sent someone for the body. After they did, I went home. It felt so empty. It would feel that way for weeks.

I don’t get many chances to talk about this. I haven’t had many. I had, for the longest time, resolved not to say anything until someone asked me. Nobody would ask. And I understand why. It’s a unique grief. People have said they couldn’t imagine how I feel, can’t imagine how it would make them feel. I suppose there’d be very little reason to ask my feelings because it’s a safe assumption that ‘bad’ would cover it. People feel like there’s little they could do, so often they don’t try. In the end, it’s unfair of me to judge others on my made up personal parameters like that.

I’ve talked with people that had completely forgotten about this aspect of my life. Makes me wonder if I’m doing any disservice to their memory by trying to sidestep something that effected me so much. That feels so real even years after. I don’t know. I’m starting to question why I’m even typing this up right now. Possibly a moment in grief.

Part of it is my fault. I’ve made it part of my life to try and be selfless. To bring some sort of happiness or contentment to people I meet. Friends, strangers, acquaintance, I care for the well being of. For me to go out of my way to find a friend or person to talk to feels almost aggressive. Like backing someone up in a corner and saying ‘Hey! I have a sad story, this will make you feel uncomfortable, but you can’t move due to me taking advantage of this unspoken obligation, taking hostage of your time!’ I don’t want to force people to commiserate with me.

But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want, or even actually need, this commiseration. Much of the fault lies with me keeping this bottled up for so long anyway.

I’m going to queue this post up for tomorrow. I need to get some sleep. I’ve got work tomorrow. I’ll try to draft an update of how I’m doing now then. Maybe help shake some of the cobwebs out of my head. Goodnight for some, good morning for others.

Peace.

#dementia #real life #sadpost #past

11 notes · View notes

able-and-can · 4 years

Text

Health Update 12.7.2020

I So I guess that I should kinda start from the beginning for the sake of continuity, I have never been a 100% well kid. I spent most of my childhood in and out of the doctors office with various illnesses and broken bones. I was constantly sick and often in and out of casts and wheelchairs. My family just took this as it came and never read too far into it.

Cut to now as an adult with a semi stable income in the year of 2020.

To start the year I had a really rough breakup that lead me into temporary homelessness, I bounced, thanks to some amazing friends, through several different housing situations. This finally lead me back from my jaunt to FL where I had moved to enter the relationship that had ended, back to GA. I moved back in June and picked up helping my mother figures boyfriend at his mechanic shop. That work took me into August where I took a hard down turn at the end of the month. At that time I had a drastic appetite reduction and severe joint and muscle pain to the point where I could barely get out of bed. After some work looking I found a trans friendly primary care doctor and begun my journey into whatever the hell is wrong with me.

At my PCP appointment we started with some some blood work and waited to see what came back, on that blood work we found that I was severely iron deficient and I came back with an autoimmune marker, I was then referred to a Hematologist and Rheumatologist. I saw the Hematologist first and was told there that I had non-anemic iron deficiency that basically means I’m making iron just fine I’m just losing it somewhere. He referred me to a GI and prescribed iron supplements. My first GI appointment went well enough and I was scheduled for an EGD. From this point everything went to hell. My appetite was already pretty low but from there it plummeted as well as rampant nausea and vomiting. I then saw the Rhumatologist and was tested to rule out autoimmune diseases. While that was happening I discontinued the iron supplements and was placed on IV iron infusions. The autoimmune tests came back negative but the GI symptoms continued, with in a period of about a month I’ve lost over 20lbs. I am radically not ok. Today I’m supposed to have a stat CT of my abdomen and I am faced with the doctor recommendation to checkin to the hospital for a possibly fairly extended stay. My final iron infusion is next week but we will see if I maintain the levels to not need another. My EGD is scheduled for the 21st and I’m ready for this nightmare to at the very least have a name.

To the people that I’ve fallen off the grid for, I really am sorry. You did nothing wrong. I can’t promise I’ll be back soon but know that I’ll try to gey back to you.

To the people I’ve pissed off I’m sorry to you as well. I know my illness isn’t an excuse but I ask for patience if nothing else.

To the people who have worked hard to stand beside me even when my health leads me to distance myself, I can’t thank you enough.

0 notes

rebeccadunne · 7 years

Text

Your Chroma

by Sinead Gleeson from the latest edition of essential Irish literary journal Gorse

How does it start? The black of pre-consciousness, the pink

of uterine breaths, the red highways of arteries, splayed.

The beginning is red.

Fly over

This country

Of the body.

A spy photographer

On an aerial loop.

There is

breast and

brain and

bladder and

bowel.

Begin the descent to bone.

Dive into fissures of marrow,

To the source,

The red and white cells

of the blood.

Canada,

Japan,

Poland,

Peru.

Venal Vexillology.

III

To put down words about the body—medical, biological,

anatomical—is to present the body as fact. Its being in the

world—a being ‘being’—is irrefutable.

There is a photo of you. Your child body in a red dress at

a trout farm, the brown glitter of a fish wriggling on the

end of the rod’s line. You smile for the camera, and avoid

looking at the bubble of blood at its mouth. Its red gasps.

‘Colour is consciousness itself, colour is feeling,’ said William

Gass, who prioritised blue above red. Blue, he writes, is ‘most

suitable as the colour of interior life.’ Blue, above corporeal

red? What was he thinking?

How do we decide this interior colour? We are one colour in

life, another in death; one in youth, another in old age; one

in sickness, another in good health. We channel Yves Klein

and create a new shade for the interior. A born again hue.

VII

Because of his synaesthesia, Wassily Kandinsky associated

colours with shapes, and sounds. For him, red was a square,

the ‘sound of a loud drum beat.’

VIII

Repeat red over and over—red red red red red red red red

red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red

red red red red red—and it’s a hum, a drill, a drumroll. It is

also not-blue, not-green, not-black, not-white.

In the Tate, Rothko’s reds are dreamlike, hazy around

the edges. Are they on the canvas or under it, bleeding

through?

In an old cinema, long closed down, we watched Derek

Jarman’s Blue. I’m curious about his choice of colour, but

don’t question his motivation to use blue. In his book Chroma,

he says: ‘I know my colours are not yours. Two colours are

never the same, even if they’re from the same tube.’ I think

of his eyes and his failing sight. To be a person who has

spent their life looking, photographing, regarding—and

now cannot see.

You are both redheads, and tell me you like to mark this

by taking photos of the backs of your heads. You do this

in special places. Howth pier, the Cliffs of Moher, various

lighthouses.

XII

There is a black and white photo in a local newspaper,

dating from the 1930s. It’s creased, and heavily pixelated,

with that old photo blur. But it’s him, Red Con. This is the

only photo we’ve tracked down. I’ve never met him, nor has

my father, but we are related. I descend from red hair.

XIII

If blue, as Gass argues, is the colour of interior life, this

makes red a colour of the exterior. But red is the body. Red

is blood, organs, tendons, the red elements:

Rashes

Hives

Sores

The raised bridge of a new scar

Platelets working on the crust of a cut

The speckle of heat rash, like pebbles on the bed of a

stream.

XIV

Driving over the Golden Gate Bridge in a convertible,

sucking in cool Californian air, they argue about the shade

of the steel. Red. Scarlet. Terracotta. Red again, some

consensus. Circular talk of colour under the shadow of

heavy cables, but he knows the bridge’s shade is officially

called ‘International Orange.’ The company that makes the

paint sells a cheaper version called ‘Fireweed.’ He takes this

as a sign to roll a joint and tells his friends that 98% of

people who jump into the bay don’t survive. Those who do

always have the same injuries: broken vertebrae, smashed

ribs, punctured lungs.

You say tomato

I say blood

You say traffic light

I say muscle

You say fire engine

I say vein

XVI

LITTLE

Across the woods, basket swinging on a girlish arm, she

weaves off the path to pick flowers. Hood as protector—

stay hidden, girl, cover yourself up—in a tocsin shade of red.

Anti-camouflage. Here I am, come and get me! it says. And so

the wolf did.

RED

Get up! Her mother pulls the blanket off her teenage bed.

Take this to your granny, and wear your hood, it’s cold. The girl

is menstrual, cramped, innards torn. Her mother relents,

returning with a hot water bottle, and a box of Feminax.

There is a wolf in her womb, and she placates it with hot,

vulcanised rubber and codeine.

RIDING

The girl remarks on the size of her grandmother’s ears, eyes,

and teeth, failing to notice the lupine mouth, the rich pelt,

the cross-dressing, the anthropomorphic imposter in the

bed.

HOOD

In the belly of the wolf, she is safe. She cannot be eaten again.

Consumption saves her from more (male) consumption.

Stay hidden girl. Belly as cave.

XVII

Fairytales are always about women’s bodies. Rapunzel’s hair

and Sleeping Beauty’s somnolent face and Snow White

choking and Cinderella dancing with glass-slippered feet.

XVIII

Not glass slippers, but her aunt buys her red clogs, the first

shoes she ever loves. The heavy wooden stomp on the

concrete of the street, the scarlet curve of the leather a

possibility. She learns that women are meant to wear heels;

that heels appear to lengthen a woman’s leg, to accentuate

her calf, to make her more attractive. She decides she will

only wear clogs, or no shoes at all.

XVIX

Four women in black body con dresses gyrate to a 1980s

song. Robert Palmer, dressed like someone’s office manager

dad rolls through Addicted to Love. The women are heavily

made up, their eye shadow a palette of storm-cloud colours,

but it’s their lipstick I’m obsessed with: my mother’s matt

pinks and creamy browns having nothing on this. This red is

a declaration of war. The gloss is so high it looks like glass.

I practise on my lips with saliva. The models are arranged

democratically, two either side of Palmer. The only contrast

in uniformity is their faces and length of their dresses. Their

whiteness is a shock, the scraped-back hair severe. These

porcelain-faced, storm-eyed she-tomatons are part homage

to Art Deco painter Patrick Nagel’s women. The shock and

sheen of their scarlet lips is the only thing that interrupts their

monochrome faces. Is it because it’s the ’80s that the scene

is so homogenous, so lacking in multiculturalism? White

bodies the epitome of capitalism, even in pop music.

How should we present our face to the world?

How should we present our (female) face to the world?

Make-upped, pore-blocked in shades of ivory and sand.

Brow-arched, lash-lacquered, glitter-lidded. Branded by

brands.

XXI

We used to paint our lips with whale blubber, but now it’s

mostly wax and oils. I have yet to find the perfect shade of

red lipstick. Too orange, too ephemeral, too knife slash.

XXII

I once worked as editor of a spa magazine. I wrote dull

copy about acrylic nails and Glycolic peels, and was sent

endless products: emery boards and seaweed unguents,

poultices and tanning sprays; exfoliation aids in wood and

sisal. I interviewed a woman who gave facials with coloured

oils selected for a person’s mood and personality. Part spa

treatment, part mystical woo. In her tiny salon, above a pub,

she told me about oneness and inner beauty, self-examination

and higher powers. After a pause in her well-rehearsed pitch,

she pointed to a fleshy bump on my forehead and said:

Would you not get that removed?

XXIII

In 1967, Irish-born writer Lucy Grealy moved to the US

with her family. Life opened up with possibility, but aged

nine she was diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma, a rare facial

cancer. Grealy endured thirty operations, radiation and

chemotherapy. In Autobiography of a Face, her novelistic

memoir, she writes: ‘This singularity of meaning—I was

my face, I was ugliness—though sometimes unbearable, also

offered a possible point of escape. It became the launching

pad from which to lift off, the one immediately recognisable

place to point to when asked what was wrong with my life.

Everything led to it, everything receded from it—my face as

personal vanishing point.’

XXIV

I have never broken a limb, even if my bones are

troublesome.

I have never needed stitches because of a cut.

I have never exposed my insides except for surgical

wounds.

My skin resealed with metal, paper and thread.

XXV

When my teenage hip started to disintegrate, baffled doctors

kept asking increasingly random questions:

Did you fall?

(Who doesn’t?)

Have you ever been knocked down by a car? (Once, but the driver

was going slow and we lived in a cul-de-sac.)

Have you ever had a tropical disease? (Can you get one from

going to Spain?)

Have you ever been bitten by an animal or strange creature? (I tell

him about Lough Derg.)

XXVI

At Dromineer, Lough Derg was like a beach. I swam out

far from the shore to float in the navy current that skirted

the lake like isobars. Swimming back, I stood when the

water was knee high, and felt a sharp pinch on my foot. It

wasn’t glass, and felt more like a bite, but I couldn’t see what

lurked beneath. I thought of monsters and sea demons, the

creature of the lake. There are not enough horror films set

underwater.

XXVII

A hotel exterior, painted walls, a fleeing woman in a scarlet

coat, the vertical lines of blood on a hanging woman’s legs, a

nosebleed, a trickle from a mouth. In Suspiria, Dario Argento

reminds us that we bleed; that the body is vulnerable—not

just to psychologies and fear—but to knives and violence.

The body is the ultimate horror setting.

XXVIII

I look at the mottled skin at your back as a forensic scientist

examines blood splatter.

XXIX

After major surgery:

I wake up to find my skin yellow and assume this is iodine

or antiseptic used to prep the body for being opened to the

elements.

I wake up to find that this yellow is not an ointment, but

bruising, from the pressure of knives, the kneading of

hands.

I wake up to red and yellow patches, pools of colour, the

body’s semaphore.

I wake up during hip replacement surgery and feel strong

hands shoving, the weight of arms, a rearrangement.

Who’s pushing me? I ask, before the anaesthetist tops up

the spinal block, shoving me back under the waves.

XXX

Arthritis and surgery withered my bones. My left leg is

thinner than the right, full of metal and scars. Frida Kahlo’s

right leg was thinner than her left, a result of childhood polio.

Kahlo painted not just her body, not just pain, but body and

pain united. Exposed spinal columns, a womb that triggered

miscarriages, herself pierced by nails in multiple works. In

her diary, she wrote: ‘I am DISINTEGRATION.’

XXXI

Eventually Kahlo’s leg was amputated below the knee and

in 1953, a year before her death, she had a prosthetic limb

made. A laced-platform boot with Chinese embroidery in

red leather. Red as defiance, and for the body and for all the

blood she’d shed.

XXXII

For nearly three months, I wore a cast that covered most

of me. When it was removed, the skin had piled up, and

looked like wax. The sediment of immobility. Removing it

was like rubbing smudges on a windowpane. I felt like a

snake shedding its skin.

XXXIII

Bones are hard as rock but our edges—skin, lids—are not

shores. The body is an island of sorts, containing several

isthmuses, in the throat, fallopian tube, prostate, thyroid,

urethra, aorta, uterus. Body as outpost, as tidal island.

XXXIV

In Northern Ireland we pass bays and inlets, but also red

phone boxes, red postboxes. Imperial, post-Colonial red.

The red stripe of St George’s flag, many Red Hands of

Ulster.

XXXV

I think of you as though you are a map. Of the contours of

your jaw, the hill of your back, the compass of your arms. I

see them now, at 10 and 2, an almost-Jesus on a cross. I try

to imagine your body at 11:11, or 12:34.

XXXVI

We play The Alphabet Body game and you laugh when I get

Z. What about Zinn’s Zonule? I offer, but you think I’m making

it up. The suspensory ligament holding the crystalline lens

of the eye in place. It’s not immediately tangible; there are

no children’s flash cards like there are for eye or mouth.

Zygomatic Bone you say, and ask me its location. It sounds like

zygote, so I guess it is uterine or cervical. I’ll answer by kissing

you there you say, and brush your lips against my cheekbone.

XXXVII

After the birth of my daughter, by C-section, my husband

said he looked up at the wrong time and saw my intestines.

The operating theatre floor looked like a murder had been

committed. And you were red too on the outside, viscous

and slippery as albumen, but your skin was blue, your lungs

working to inflate.

XXXVIII

After the birth of my son, he weighs no more than a couple

of bags of sugar, but I cannot pick him up. A new pain

in my wrist is intense, and feels close to the surface, like

someone tipping a scalding cup over it. I take a glass lift five

floors to see a man who will fix it. De Quervain’s Syndrome,

he says. Can you get it from lifting babies, who are light,

almost not there? Two tendons wrap around each other in a

red embrace. One surgical slit with a scalpel, like a ribbon-

cutting ceremony and it will be free. This injury is also called

Washerwoman’s Sprain (not Washerman’s).

XXXIX

The patron saint of childbirth, St. Margaret of Antioch, was

a committed virgin. Tortured for her faith, her flesh slashed

with nails, she was given the title after an encounter with

a dragon. The creature swallowed her whole, so Margaret

made the sign of the cross and promptly burst out of its

stomach, Alien-style. (Film critic Mark Kermode once said

that Alien is a film about male fear of childbirth).

I know a girl with Rosacea, which makes me think of

‘Rosary,’ not red. The skin is affected with papules and

pustules, reminding me of holy beads. I love these words

for awful things, and the galaxy of red under the moons of

her eyes.

XLI

You do not own your body if you live in this country. Your

womb is not under your control. Legislation owns your

ovaries. Lawyers lay claim to your fallopian tubes. The

government pays stamp duty on your cervix.

XLII

Tick tock, women’s body clocks.

Have a baby even though you’re not ready.

Have a baby when you can’t afford a home.

Have a baby when you’ve been raped.

Have a baby because you can’t afford the airfare to London

or Liverpool.

Have a baby between twenty and thirty-four, it’s the optimum

fertility window, they

keep

reminding

us.

The ticking of ovaries, your body as timepiece, swinging on

a chain.

XLIII

Heads, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes.

HIPS! TITS! LIPS! POWER! (REPEAT)

XLIV

Once you enter the medical system, there are rooms and

hospital numbers, blue disposable gowns and Styrofoam

cups. There are people speaking—always speaking—asking

questions, taking details. The body you think of as yours

is not private. It is in the system, on charts, in operating

theatres. Your body needs to take the lift to x-ray. Your body

needs to drink more fluids. Your body needs to come back

in three months. Your body is ours.

XLV

Just before her lumpectomy, photographer Jo Spence wrote

on her left breast: Property of Jo Spence? The question mark is

defiant and panic-stricken. The need to hold on to this part

of herself. To assert autonomy, even over the toxic growth

in her chest. To have a say in her own medical life. Later,

post-lumpectomy, Spence is photographed in profile, breast

puckered and scarred. Wearing a crash helmet, the image is

uncompromising. Come at me, it says.

XLVI

In the hospital, you are not supposed to use your hands.

In the bathroom, toilets flush and taps spill and blue

paper towels dispense with the wave of a sensor. Germs,

cleanliness, DO NOT TOUCH. The ward is a bubble,

confined and contained, and I feel like Margaret Atwood’s

‘Girl Without Hands.’

No one can enter that circle

you have made, that clean circle

of dead space you have made

and stay inside,

mourning because it is clean.*

XLVII

He used to give himself stigmata. Burning the hollow of his

hand with cigarettes. Pressing the red sieve tip into his heart

line, head line, life line. This is for you, he said, but I know it

connected him to himself.

XLVIII

The Catholic Church’s list of notable stigmatics is comprised

mostly of women, including St. Catherine of Siena. Born in

the mid-fourteenth century, she believed she was married

to Jesus, and that her (invisible) wedding ring was made of

his foreskin. Her stigmatic wounds were visible only to her,

and she suffered from anaemia. Every day, she fasted and

engaged in self-flagellation until she drew blood. In one of

many letters to her confessor, Raymond of Capua, she spoke

of a vision where she leads her followers into the wound in

Christ’s side, guiding an army into his blood.

XLIX

My birthday is the anniversary of the death of St. Ignatius

Loyola. Once a soldier, he was shot through the hip,

shattering his leg. I’ve never gone to war or been beatified.

There is no redness in death. Maybe this is where William

Gass’ interior blue comes in. But the body turns many

colours at the end: white, grey, blue, purple, a tinge of green.

The body spent and stopped and still is not red.

But when will the red stop?

When will I die?

When will you?

#sinead gleeson #gorse #literary journal #writing #new irish writing #irish #your chroma #red

4 notes · View notes

suchawonderfullife · 7 years

Text

3. Why Hansa?

I believe in divine intervention, karma, the universe giving you what you need at the right time etc. So I’d done over a year on antibiotic (abx) therapy, and seen maybe a 5% improvement (and by that I mean, I went from being unable to sit up for longer than 10 minutes at a time, to maybe on a REALLY good day I could sit up for just 20 minutes and not end up with seriously exacerbated symptoms). Abx is your mainstream treatment for Lyme. But let me make this clear, if you’re past stage one (longer than 6 months), your chances of this method of treatment actually working long-term and eradicating the Lyme are slim to none. No medical journal or LLMD (lyme literate medical doctor) or the CDC or any other organisation will admit this though. For patients who have felt better on this treatment, they often relapse once they stop or their symptoms return. So they haven’t fixed the problem and taking abx long-term is very damaging to the body.

At the time we didn’t know any better and my Dr. as brilliant as he is, is not a lyme literate doctor, so he was learning too. There was a Dr in my city who was treating Lyme with IV antibiotics and I could have potentially got a PICC line put in. I told my Dr I would go and see him instead. He begged me not to go. He said “you are so so ill and complex, he will not understand this and it will make you worse, please don’t see him.” I’m so glad I listened to his advice. When I did oral abx with my CFS Dr, he was shocked that I couldn’t even cope with minute doses compounded especially for me. If the lowest dose of something like Doxycycline is 200mg, I would have it compounded to 25mg and I would take 1/2-1 tablet (depending in if I could cut it) every 3-4 days. When you start abx for lyme you are looking at 400mg once a day as a MINIMUM and then you steadily increase to 1000+mg per day. You then add in other abx so you’re taking a cocktail.

You then get what’s called a herxheimer reaction. We call it herxing. This is where the bacteria that are dying, release toxins into the bloodstream at a rate too high for the body to cope and try to flush them out. So we experience exacerbated symptoms, feeling FAR FAR worse (I cannot stress enough how beyond torturous herxing is when you are already so sick). Herxing can also cause death if the die off is too great, so it is dangerous. My herxing was a living hell. Where the lyme is in your body is where you will feel it most. I have so much Lyme in my brain that I was more often than not severely depressed and suicidal, I had no control over my thoughts and my reality was often distorted. I had severe Lyme rage (it’s a real thing) and if I was a physically violent person, there would have been many holes in the walls, smashed furniture, broken mirrors, smashed phones and I probably would have hurt myself in the process. Rage at that level is all consuming and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The soles of my feet burned so bad I couldn’t walk on them, my bones felt like they were constantly being drilled into or sawn off, I developed tremors like I had parkinson’s, vocal ticks where I would make random uncontrollable noises, I constantly felt like I was suffocating and unable to breathe, my nausea never went away, pounding headaches for days, night terrors so real I was terrified to try and fall asleep, but insomnia helped with that, night sweats where I would wake up soaked in sweat and freezing cold, my body feeling so hot like I’m living in an oven, whilst my feet are purple and stone cold and so much more. Remember I put up with this for over a year so far (2 years total). But I pushed through it, because I’ll do anything to get better.

However it wasn’t working. At the rate I was able to cope with increasing my dose (because my herxing was so severe), it was going to take me 10 years to reach even a “normal” dose of abx and I wasn’t getting better. That’s when fate stepped in. My mum’s work colleague’s husband, worked with a man who treated himself for Lyme Disease and was now an Osteopath. Someone who CURED themselves of Lyme, holy shit!!!! I had to talk to this guy. He ended up calling me one night free of charge to give me advice. I remember being so ill I wasn’t well enough to hold the phone, comprehend what he was saying and physically speak, but I had to push myself because I wouldn’t get this opportunity again. He gave me the most incredible advice that made so much sense, I don’t remember all of it, but it was like a lightbulb moment and he had given me hope. His approach was different to anything I’d come across (because I’d done everything mainstream from the medical world).

He’s an osteo, a holistic doctor, so their approach to healing the body is not to just pop man-made pills to “fix” the problem. It’s about healing the body so that the body can fight for itself. It’s not about the diagnosis either, it’s about working out what went wrong in the first place to allow the disease to thrive and working to fix that. The disease is the symptom, not the cause. The advice I remember over the phone was: to never use a microwave ever again. A microwave changes the molecules in food so your body no longer recognises it as food. I now heat everything up on the stove. To turn my WIFI off at night. EMF’s (electromagnetic fields) feed Lyme bacteria, it aggravates them and Dr. Dietrich Klinghardt (a highly regarded Lyme Dr in Germany) has studies to prove this. I sleep far better with the WIFI turned off and mine and my partner’s phone MUST be on airplane mode before we sleep, or they’re not allowed to stay in the room. If your mobile is in your room when you sleep and not switched off or on airplane mode, it must be at least 5metres from your bed. I don’t have an alarm clock next to my bed anymore as that’s more unnecessary EMF’s. My parents even sleep better with the WIFI off, if they accidentally leave it one, they have a terrible night’s sleep and they’re not even sick. I also have orgonites, salt lamps and selenite towers around my house to help absorb EMF’s. He also said I must drink bone broth every day to repair my gut. 90% of your immune system lies in your gut. I already knew I had IBS, leaky gut syndrome, gut dysbiosis, multiple food intolerances and more, so repairing that damage made sense.

I started seeing him for a treatment called bioresonance. I’m not good at explaining this treatment. But basically everything has a frequency and say a healthy human has a frequency of 103. When your body is in dis-ease, it will have a frequency far lower. Bioresonance resets your frequency to what it should be. As the Lyme has written itself in my DNA, it’s in all my cells and has programmed itself into my bodies way of functioning, it would be in my bodies frequency. I know this sounds like airy-fairy crap but honestly if you disagree I couldn’t care less. It’s the ONLY treatment that I dramatically improved with and I have at least a dozen friends who have had the same experience.

You lie on a bed and get hooked up to this machine and you just lie there for 45-60 minutes. My new Dr commented on how sick I was. He would massage my organs whilst I was hooked up to the machine and he would say my stomach was like cement. My organs were struggling to badly, the massaging would leave me in tears from the pain. Bioresonance would also make me incredibly ill afterwards. It’s what I imagined chemo to be like. I would go home so toxic, nauseaous, my head pounding and beyond exhausted. But these were a different kind of symptoms to what I had experienced with Lyme, I can’t even describe it properly, I just felt so so ill. I would go to bed and sleep for 3 hours, wake up still feeling like death, eat very simple foods, take zofran wafers and panadeine forte and just be a vegetable on the couch. It would take me days to over a week to recover from this treatment. But every time my body finally recovered, I was actually better than before. It was working. After my 3rd session I drove for the first time in 2 years. I didn’t have the cognitive ability, energy or strength to do this previously. I drove 5 minutes down the road and WALKED around our local shopping centre on my own for an entire hour. I wasn’t even able to walk from the car to the door previously, if I ever went down the shops it was in a wheelchair and even sitting up for that long was incredibly difficult. 2 months into this treatment and I was able to drive myself 20 minutes to a friends house, spend time with them for a few hours and drive home. My health continued to improve with every session and eventually the treatment didn’t make me that sick anymore.

He also weaned me off my abx as they were proving of no benefit to my body. I found out about essential oils. Did my own research and started using them. Shortly after signing up to a company, my Dr. told me he had heard good things about oils too and joined the same company. I can’t say much about essential oils as legally they have this red tape where they cannot promote any sort of healing. This is why mainstream medicine LOOKS like the best option, because holistic and natural options are not allowed to promote any kind of healing or benefits they provide. I will say they are phenomenal and I couldn’t recommend them enough, they are the second biggest contributor to helping me on this journey.

I changed my diet to eating organic, drinking bone broth and having fresh cold-pressed juice daily. Cutting out all my food intolerance foods and eliminating refined sugar also helped significantly. My Dr. also makes his own fermented probiotic which I would have a shot of every morning. It tastes disgusting. Doing all of this to help repair my gut made a huge difference. When I eat something I shouldn’t I feel far worse and when I eat sugar it affects my brain and I become very moody and angry. Caffeine makes my adrenals crash so I drink decaf as a treat sometimes. If you can’t afford an entirely organic diet, you get organic meat before fruit and veg. Saving for my treatment I haven’t been able to afford organic food for over 9 months now and I’m really looking forward to being able to buy it again.

My Dr. informed me of how stress is toxic to my body. Stress emits chemicals in the body that weakens us, and for a chronically ill person, we simply cannot handle this change in bad chemistry. So I’ve learnt to cut people out of my life, set firmer boundaries and avoid drama as much as possible, because it is simply not worth my health. It’s no one’s responsibility but yours to understand this either. I have broken up with partners, ended friendships and even cut off extended family members because of their behaviour, treatment of me or choices. They need no explanation from me either, because more often than not they won’t “get it” and it’s very hard to change people. Moreover, as I’m an empath, I absorb other people’s emotions and stress. I’m a great target for people dumping their problems on me. Don’t get me wrong, I care about people and want to help, but I had a few relationships that were one-sided, where the person would vent or dump their problems on me, talk about themselves and that’s where the conversation would cease. To me that’s not OK. I was honest with these people and either asked for space or set new boundaries for our relationship. Many chronically ill people are empathic, so knowing this is important.

1 year of bioresonance and I was heading towards 70% health. Life was looking great. But I had a few stressors in my life, a few relapses in health and I seemed to settle around 50% health. Some days I might only be at 20% and other days I might be lucky to hit 70%. So at this point you would call me a “high functioning Lymie.” I’m still quite sick, but I no longer look sick. I can’t work or study, but I can complete basic tasks for myself most days. I can maybe leave my house once or twice a week for a social catch-up or to run some errands, but I will feel worse the next day and have to spend it lying on the couch. Majority of my energy goes towards simply caring for myself, showering, preparing food, cooking, house work, grocery shopping, sorting out medications, completing errands and then on a good day I might have a little energy spare to go out for a few hours, play the piano for 30 minutes, walk my dogs for 15 minutes or chat to a friend on the phone.

Some days I can’t even get dressed, have a shower or speak (which sucks because I LOVE to talk). My health is incredibly unreliable and inconsistent. This is what frustrates me. I just can’t get above 50% health. I’ve had seriously scary relapses in the last few years too, where I’ve spent weeks bedridden, unable to care for myself and thinking “is this it? Is this where I go downhill and don’t get better?” I’m terrified of that. I can’t travel, contribute to society in all the ways I so deeply desire, have children, exercise or do anything relatively “normal” without it causing significant payback. I have to calculate how much energy every activity would cost me and I often have to for-go important gatherings or events because I’m not well enough. If I have 2 friends’ celebrating their birthdays on the same weekend, one on a Friday night and one on a Saturday night, I have to pick one. I couldn’t do both. And even then, I don’t know until the last minute if I can actually attend. Often I pick my event and then can’t even go to that. If friend’s and family want to make plans ahead of time, this makes me incredibly anxious, because I worry my health won’t be good enough and I’ll have to cancel last minute. This creates a lot of stress and guilt. I’m very grateful for the people in my life that tell me it’s OK if I cancel last minute, but I still feel guilty and disappointed to miss out on spending time with them. It’s not a CHOICE for us to isolate ourselves and be stuck in our beds or couches alone, feeling like crap.

Even the other night I wanted to go out for dinner with my parter, but I woke up so sick and had a terrible day. I rested, ate healthy food and put oils on that usually help my symptoms of fatigue and nausea. But I felt no better. I was stressed and trying to “find” the energy to go out. I changed my clothes, decided against trying to put makeup on and just tied my hair up. Walked into the lounge room and just felt 10x worse from those activities. It was a battle in my mind for 10 minutes on deciding whether to push through or admit to my partner I wasn’t well enough. He’s very flexible and supportive so he was fine to stay home, but I felt so disappointed and annoyed at my body for not being able to cope. All I needed it to be ok with was driving 20 minutes down the road, sitting in a restaurant for 90 minutes and driving home. I just wanted a nice meal with my partner, holding hands, looking at each other, talking, and I couldn’t do that. This kind of disappointment is something I deal with often.

So 1 year ago I decided that this inconsistency was just doing my head in. I’m fed up. I want a life. I remember at 5% health I begged the universe (or god, whatever your beliefs are) to get me to just 50% health, so that I could function a little and have some sort of a “life” and I would be so grateful. I got there. But this is not living, I still feel like I’m merely existing, with a little bit of joy or distraction from time to time. That’s when I started to look into more “extreme” treatment options. Australia and what is has to offer is not working for me. I will never get better if I keep trialling the limiting options is has to offer for a disease it deems does not exist and it therefore cannot comprehend the complexities of.

#lyme #Lyme Disease #lyme treatment #chronic illness #chronic lyme #hansa #hansa center #chronic fatigue syndrome

1 note · View note

midnight-writing · 3 years

Text

ᴛ ᴇ ᴍ ᴘ ʟ ᴀ ᴛ ᴇ

ʙ ʏ

dog dad

ㅤ

╭──────────────────╮

s ᴛ ᴀ ᴛ ᴜ s • Completed

ᴛ ʀ ɪ ɢ ɢ ᴇ ʀ s • Death, light amount of blood within images, mention of bullying, and mental disorders.

ғ ᴀ ᴄ ᴇ ᴄ ʟ ᴀ ɪ ᴍ • Maddie Hasson

╰──────────────────╯

ㅤ

───────

ᴄ ᴏ ɴ ᴛ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ s ˎˊ˗

i Teaser

ii Name iii General

iv Appearance v Personality

vi Health vii Combat

viii Stats ix Background

x Relations xi Roleplay Info

xii Author’s Notes

───────

❝I’m not great at the advice can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?❞

—Chandler Bing, Friends

ㅤ

──────────────

ᴏ ᴄ ᴛ ᴇ ᴀ s ᴇ ʀ ˎˊ-

──────────────

Girl On Fire

“There is a girl

She is wise

and wary of flames

but still, she knows

she will survive the fire

life scorches sometimes.

she has been a phoenix before

and every time

she burns to ashes

she knows

exactly how to rise

again.

She carries

destruction grief

carved river deep in her bones

specializes in

wrecking ball

knows how to bring

the whole thing down

surveys the broken

claims it as wholeness

and names it all good

she knows well

the holy necessity

of beginning again.”

-Jeanette LeBlanc

──────────────

ɢ ᴇ ɴ ᴇ ʀ ᴀ ʟ ˎˊ-

──────────────

—full name

Kallel Hope Hartman

People don’t bug her too much about her name, besides about it being a rarer name.

—meanings

[Kallel] Laurel, Keeper of the Keys.

[Hope] The feeling that a desire will be fulfilled.

[Hartman] Strong man.

—aliases

Kallie. This is what she goes by since she’s not a huge fan of her full first name, everyone calls her this except her step mom.

Kal. Something her best friend Caleb calls her and sometimes her dad does too, there’s no reasoning behind it and she doesn’t mind it.

—age

16. She can be a bit immature at times, but most of the time she acts about her age.

—gender

Female. She was born this gender and has never really thought about changing it.

She/Her

—birth

June 6th in Minneapolis Minnesota. Gemini.

—species

Demi-god

—Godly-Parent

Nike. The Greek Goddess of Victory

—attraction

Bisexual and Biromantic

❝Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.❞

—Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

──────────────

ᴀ ᴘ ᴘ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ ˎˊ-

──────────────

Kallie is only a little smaller than average height for her age, she is 5’ 3”. She is on the thinner side weighing 110 lbs. She may be a bit thin but she’s fit and has a bit of strong muscle. She doesn’t eat a ton of junk and keeps active since she is on track team.

Her Hair is a light blonde and her eyes are hazel with a strong brown hue. Her hair is straight and soft, usually up in a messy bun or a ponytail. Her eyes are darker in color and she has under eye bags due to not getting enough sleep every night. Her eyelashes are of a medium thickness and length. She has 20/20 vision and has never needed visual assistance. Her eyebrows are thinner, slightly arched and about the same color as her hair.

Her skin doesn’t really have any freckles, or birthmarks, but she has a tiny dot near the left corner of her lips. She gets blemishes ever once in a while due to being a teenager, but does not use makeup to cover it up and normally doesn’t wear makeup at all. She has a thin scar of a line going from the bottom of her left ear towards her nose. Her hands and feet are smaller and thin due to being small boned. Her hands are in between soft and rough since she plays sports and sometimes works on cars, outdoor equipment, etc…

Kallie tends to wear shorts until it becomes way too cold to. She wears a lot of t-shirts, hoodies, flannels and ripped jeans. She mainly wears darker colors and more neutral tones, a lot of black, white, and gray. She rarely wears dresses, during formal occasions there’s a stronger chance of her wearing a feminine styled suit. She doesn’t care too much about her appearance and mainly focuses on comfort.

❝She wasn't looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword.❞

—Atticus

ㅤ

──────────────

ᴘ ᴇ ʀ s ᴏ ɴ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ʏ ˎˊ-

──────────────

P E R S O N A L I T Y T Y P E

ENFP-T

ᴍ ᴀ ɪ ɴ ᴛ ʀ ᴀ ɪ ᴛ s

Stubborn | Sarcastic | Independent | Altruistic

Strong-willed | Outgoing | Curious | Absent Minded

Kallie can be very stubborn at times, if she does doesn’t want to do something she will or won’t, she doesn’t let peer pressure affect her too much unless it’s over something not serious that would affect her in the long run. Being strong-willed can connect to her stubbornness since when she wants to do something she will do it no matter how difficult a task or how long it takes her. She’s friendly and outgoing to most people as long as they don’t do anything to offend her, she tries to be friends with as many people as she can. Although she likes having friends, she can be by herself for a while and do things herself since she is independent and may not feel the need of another person to be present all of the time. Due to her being both curious and absent minded she can get distracted easily. Her mind will lead to something else and may throw her off task from time to time. She also tends to ask a lot of questions about unknown things due to her curiousness. Being altruistic or selfless leads her to put others before herself, if someone else needs help she is likely to put herself in danger to help them without being in ti to benefit herself.

She tends to tap on tables or her leg without realizing it along with picking at loose threads on her clothes, peeling paint on objects, or loose stickers. Picking at things tends to happen more often when she is nervous or in a stress inducing situation. When she is happy she tends to have energy and be talkative, which becomes stronger when she is excited, she’ll be more willing to socialize with someone who she may not like as much. The opposite will usually happen when she is sad or angry, she will become less energetic and less talkative, although she tries not to let a lot of negative emotions show since she doesn’t like bothering people with them or talking about her feelings. When in social situations like parties she tends to try and initiate conversation with people she doesn’t know well as long as they don’t seem to be in a sour mood or bothered by her. If it’s her friends she’ll speak to them no matter their mood and try to make them feel better.

Kallie is claustrophobic and does not like to be within small spaces that have no area to escape from, it isn’t as bad as some people have it since she is okay as long as there is a way to get out of the small space when she begins to panic. She has a slight fear of needles but it has dwindled as she has gotten older, she can’t look whenever they are used and sometimes needs a stress reliever, she won’t pass out but she will be quite anxious during the process. There’s no real cause for these fears within her past, she just has never liked small spaces or needles.

F A T A L - F L A W

ㅤOver confidence.

ㅤ

❝She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.❞

—Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor and park

ㅤ

ㅤ ──────────────

ʜ ᴇ ᴀ ʟ ᴛ ʜ ˎˊ-

──────────────

Kallie has only some visible muscles on her biceps, but she is fit and healthy. She has a flat stomach although with slightly defined abs. Overall her body is thinner since she is smaller boned and has a faster metabolism than most people. She also stays fit due to going to the gym at least once a week depending on her schedule, playing sports helps her stay fit too. She is also naturally more athletically bit due to her godly-parent. She tends to eat more snacks, but works them off.

Overall her skin is pretty clear of scarring, there are random small ones from working on things and playing outside when she was younger but she does have a thin scar of a line going from the bottom of her left ear towards her nose. She has no need for visual hearing assistance since both her eyes and ears function well.

Her immune system is pretty well and works as well as the average person, she gets sick every once in a while but due to her lifestyle being a bit healthier she tends to not catch the cold when it’s going around.

She has both Hyperactive-impulsive ADHD and Dyslexia due to being a Demi-god.ㅤ

ㅤ

❝Normality is a paved road: It's comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.❞

—Vincent van Gogh

ㅤ

──────────────

ᴄ ᴏ ᴍ ʙ ᴀ ᴛ ˎˊ-

──────────────

Kallie is pretty agile but her hits don’t do as much damage as she wished they did. She doesn’t really have an algorithm with how she fights someone yet, she just does whatever seems right at the moment and doesn’t really plan her hits. She usually only fights in self defense and usually is pretty lucky about how much damage she takes in a fight. She knows the basics of self defense since she has taken a couple classes in the past.

Kallie’s main weapons are her fists, pepper spray or anything else she can grab, but she rarely uses anything lethal. Once she is taken to Camp, her main weapon will become a celestial bronze sword, which she would find she has the most confidence in using.

ㅤ

❝It doesn’t matter what you are, it only matters what you do. It’s your choice.❞

—Sam Winchester, Supernatural

ㅤ

──────────────

s ᴛ ᴀ ᴛ s ˎˊ-

──────────────

sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ

8/10

She is on the stronger side due to the influence of her mot. She is a bit stronger than an average person her height and weight naturally would be. She wants to gain strength so she can feel more confident in defending herself when needed.

ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

6/10

She is aware of what’s happening around her most of the time and has natural battle instincts, although since she becomes distracted easily she can lose track of events that are happening and what she is doing. She is okay at reading people’s emotions, most of the time she can interpret how they feel, but sometimes she may be oblivious.

ᴇɴᴅᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

9/10

Her endurance is pretty high since she was always taught to be tough and keep going even when it gets difficult. She’ll get right back up after being down, both emotionally and physically. She can run for a while longer than the average person, especially in the case of meeting a goal.She can endure quite a bit of pain, though she’s also stubborn enough to keep going even if its a lot. Emotionally her endurance is pretty good also.

ᴄʜᴀʀɪsᴍᴀ

7/10

She does very well in social situations since she is an outgoing and friendly person. She’s also pretty good at fooling people when telling a lie. Most of the time people believe what she says since she’s not one to lie about anything that would hurt anyone. She’s not much of a flirt and can be slightly awkward when it comes to romance since she doesn’t think about romance often.

ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

6/10

She is more street smart than book smart, her lowest grade being a C in math due to the trouble she has understanding the subject. She has mainly Bs in her other classes, she tends to get As in the more hands on classes that she has as electives. Though it’s difficult to keep her grades consistent since she has moved schools quite a few times.

ᴀɢɪʟɪᴛʏ

9/10

She is very quick and flexible and has always been. She participated in gymnastics when she was younger, leading her to be quite a bit more flexible than the average person. She is quicker too since she runs a lot and focuses on being faster when participating in track practice or a meet.

ʟᴜᴄᴋ

6/10

Her luck tends to be pretty good, it’s better than the average person due to her mother’s influence. When guessing she is more right than wrong most of the time, especially when guessing who’s going to win something. She does believe in luck and that 13 is her lucky number.

ㅤ

❝Being underestimated is one of the biggest competitive advantages you can have. Embrace it.❞

—Unknown

ㅤ

──────────────

ʙ ᴀ ᴄ ᴋ s ᴛ ᴏ ʀ ʏ ˎˊ-

──────────────

Kallie was born into a good environment, her family loved her and they had enough money to be comfortable. At a young age she learned about hard work since her parents didn’t give her an allowance unless she did her chores and didn’t misbehave too much, the same went for her siblings. She was a very active child, she had a lot of energy, and was always wanting to play inside or outside. She would often try and help her dad fix things around the house or in the garage. She could often be found taking clocks or random electronics apart to try and put them back together again, this led her to discover her hobby of tinkering.

In 1st grade when Kallie was 6 she was diagnosed with ADHD. She had been falling behind the other kids a little since she seemed to have attention problems. This caused her teacher to call her mother and talk about it. Soon Kallie was taken to a pediatrician and was diagnosed. Around the age of 6 she also discovered her love of videogames when she began playing games with her brothers when they let her.

She also learned the lesson of grieving and strength when she lost her mother at 8 years old. Carolina had died in a car crash due to a drunk driver, both drivers had died. It was difficult for her to lose her mother since she was very close to her and didn’t quite understand what had happened since she was younger,, but together as a family they supported each other.

Kallie joined a small dance team when she was 9 and managed to make quite a few friends on the team and school but eventually grew apart from a few as she moved on to middle school. During middle school she joined the track team and the lacrosse team. She quickly figured out she was pretty good at sports and was naturally athletic. Although she had found joy in the teams at school, she found a bit of struggle in academics due to her ADHD, especially within her math classes. She had also become a target for a few girls that would pick on her weight and grades, but her friends helped her cope with it.

Once she moved onto high school Kallie had lost a few more friends but still had multiple that she enjoyed spending time with. She also met Caleb freshman year when he moved to Minnesota from England. They quickly bonded and over the years became best friends. She had a boyfriend her sophomore year that ended in a bad breakup at the beginning of that summer. During her high school years she participated in track, swim, and lacrosse, along with the dance company she had been in for years. Being on that many teams kept her busy and also added to her struggles in school, but she didn’t really mind. The bullying continued throughout high school but gradually diminished.

After highschool Kallie moved into her own apartment and began college. She picked an engineering degree and worked at a local restaurant as a waitress. Her wage and tips were the main source of her income but sometimes she would work as a handyman within her apartment complex if the landlord didn’t come to fix something quick enough or she’d help fix people’s cars if she could.

ㅤ ❝She needed a hero so that’s what she became.❞

—Unknown

──────────────

ʀ ᴇ ʟ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ s ˎˊ-

──────────────

m o t h e r

❝N/A.❞

status: [Unknown]

Nike left Steven (her father) as soon as she was born so she never knew her mother or knew that she was a goddess. Her father knew but had made the agreement to never tell.

f a t h e r

❝He may be forgetful sometimes, but he always has good intentions.❞

status: [alive]

Steve(n) and her were really close but they’ve gradually separated. He cares a lot about Kallie but sometimes work gets in the way of spending time with her. When Nike and him were together, he was apart of a city level hockey team, though now he is a business manager.

s t e p - m o t h e r

status: [alive]

❝Her and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.❞

s t e p - b r o t h e r s

❝Sometimes he’s a bit too serious, but I still love him.❞

status: [alive]

Alex(ander) and her were closer when she was younger but they grew apart once he moved out and went off to college.They had separate mothers and he and Jason are from Diana’s previous relationship.

❝We are two peas in a pod.❞

status: [alive]

Jason and her are and always have been very close, especially since they are only a year apart. They may get in simple fights but they get along again afterwards.

B e s t f r i e n d

❝We know each other so well we can almost read each other’s minds.❞

status: [alive]

Caleb/Abe and her are really close even though they only met freshman year. ㅤ

ㅤ

❝The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases.❞

—Carl Jung

ㅤ

──────────────

ʀ ᴏ ʟ ᴇ ᴘ ʟ ᴀ ʏ ɪ ɴ ғ ᴏ ˎˊ-

──────────────

Find my rules [here] (WIP)

ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ

ㅤ

❝I won't sit still, look pretty.❞

—Daya, Sit Still, Look Pretty

ㅤ

──────────────

ᴀ ᴜ ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ʀ s ɴ ᴏ ᴛ ᴇ ˎˊ-

0 notes

obduratemoon · 4 years

Text

Sedimentary City 07: MEDICINE MAN

From the high precipice of a mountain he looked down and far away there in the shadowed plains an army with grey standards fluttering in the wind, the people small and many like ants. Amongst them were catapults that rolled themselves by some dark magic with men, bound and blindfolded, sitting in the ladle like buckets waiting for the moment when they should be sent towards their parabolic terminus.

Consciousness crept in slowly and cautiously on gentle cat paws. Was he still in the dream of catapults and men? In the penumbra of closed eyes, he tried to investigate the hypostasis of his awareness and could not tell if it ended in reality or illusion. He slowly willed his heavy lids to open.

It took Jan a long time to comprehend his situation but with time he came to understand that he was in a hospital bed, the thick tube of an IV running into one arm, the other firmly strapped and secured to the railings. He felt a pang of panic as he recalled the events that led him here, a chill that was, however, blunted by a certain distance of sensation. It rolled in slowly and in waves like some far off reverberation. Morphinated and sedated he lay there oddly comfy given the circumstances, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped in a familiar duvet or sunk deep into the ground, buried and forgotten already.

He knew that he was good and fucked and needed to escape, but it proved difficult to motivate himself. Jan tried to turn over the pistons of cogitation, but his mind remained placid and happily paralyzed, jellied as aspic. The white noise in his brain was soft and gentle, a richly layered tapestry of susurrations and hisses which frustrated and covered any attempt at melody. Jan tried a meditative practice but the thick fog yet remained whole and unrent. He relented and found peace in that noisily anechoic place.

Jan fell into a troubled, doubting sleep and woke up to see an old man with a shock of grey hair and a white doctor’s coat worrying all around him. Half lidded, he listened for a long time to the sounds of the man shuffling about and muttering to himself. Finally, the old man turned towards Jan and, upon seeing that the patient was awake, said: “Ah, you’re finally up. How are you feeling?”

Jan replied with a half hearted shrug. “Tired,” he said, the action of speaking felt odd and constrained. Yes, there is definitely something wrong, he thought. His tongue felt heavy and sticky, a giant alien worm in his mouth.

“Well that’s to be expected, you took quite a beating, although nothing that won’t heal in time.”

“Yes, time,” Jan replied quietly.

Everything in the room indicated that he was in an antiquated hospital. On Level 1 he would have been fully enclosed in a Health-Suit, one arrayed with a variety of instruments inside taking measurements that fed into a Homeostasis Engine, a unit of computation which would calculate his care. The suit could distribute nanobots, fluids, and medicine as well as massage parts of his body to stimulate blood and lymph flow. It also had collection manifolds for urine, feces, pus and other drippings from wounds and orifices. One hardly saw doctors face to face anymore on Level 1.

“Ah, but the silver lining is that your insurance is good," the doctor said with a tired but irascible expression, “really fine! As to be expected from someone from Level 1 -- you’re very lucky! I’ve got the morphine flow set on high, only the best alkaloids!”

“Actually, I was wondering if you could turn it down, I would rather be more lucid.” Jan replied, trying not to sound ungrateful.

“Huh, what’s that? You want to turn it down? You’ll regret it when your muscles start to spasm.”

“Spasm?”

The doctor’s brows furrowed subtly and he moved closer to the bed to face Jan. “Your jaw’s been split in two, right down the middle.” The doctor pointed two fingers at Jan and then made a slicing motion sagittally bisecting the wounded head. “My guess is that it happened when you fell on your face. Or maybe it was from the beating you got, who knows? Did someone mistake your head for a football?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Ah, just as well, I doubt it was a pleasant memory.” The old doctor moved over to the IV machine and inspected its display panel, nodding approvingly while murmuring to himself: “Uh-huh uh-huh, well these look ok.”

Once satisfied with the instrument readings, he turned to Jan, “So, anyhow, the two sides of your jaw are now all shifted and skewed like tectonic plates -- you know what a tectonic plate is?”

“Yes.”

“Ah ok, not everyone does, a lot of people think all that’s underneath is just another lousy level. They aren’t even aware of Earth much less anything deeper. But who can blame them? Most people never leave their level. I guess you aren’t one of those people, huh?”

The doctor looked at Jan who merely stared back mutely. Getting no response, he continued, “The two sides of your lower jaw are like those tectonic plates now and your muscles aren’t used to having them moving and shifting, so they spasm, hard mind you, trying to put your face back together. It’s sort of like earthquakes on your face!”

“Huh.” No wonder his mouth felt strange, Jan thought. He tongued his lower incisors and noticed now that they seemed to be misaligned, one side subducted inwards, the normally smooth curve of his teeth broken by this rude discontinuity. He was struck by how unrecognizable and unfamiliar this mouth felt, as if it was unowned by Jan.

“The spasms are very painful, you’d be howling without the morphine so be grateful. Not everyone gets enough and most get the synthetics, so like I said, you’re lucky. Plus the howling will only make the spasms worse.”

The doctor then leaned in and said in a lowered and confidential voice, “Also, I prefer the patients to be quiet and calmer anyway, the walls are thin and it would disturb the other patients. No one likes to hear screaming when they are sick and dying, it just reminds them that they are sick and dying.”

Jan wondered if he would die here on level 5. He had been so ready to do so not long ago but somehow the idea now gave him the chills. Or perhaps it was what they could do to him while alive that scared him.

“Do you know why I’m strapped into this bed?” Jan asked, nodding at his bound arm.

“Oh yea, the police brought you in, they said you had to be secured and that you were to be detained and questioned. Reminds me, I’m supposed to send them in when you woke up,” the doctor leaned in again and, with hushed tones, asked, “So what d’ya do?”

Jan did not reply for a time, mired for a spell in his own worries. This will end badly, he thought.

“I was in a street fight.” Jan replied eventually, “So what about my jaw? Will it heal on its own?”

The doctor looked at him incredulously, “Ha! If the police cared about street fights then I’m a member of the Central Bureau! Well, whatever. The bones will fuse back together again naturally, but will probably be misaligned. My advice is to have it seen to on Level 1, that is, if you can get back there. We can fix it here as well but the approach may be, uh, a bit more crude.”

He looked at Jan significantly, “I guess it all depends on what happens next with the police.”

“Huh, yea.”

Jan closed his eyes and sank down into his bed. The reality of the situation was bleeding through the adiabatic insulation of the opiates. He did not relish the interrogations that would soon commence and some part of him was desperate to escape, to chew off his beshackled arm like a wild animal and be far away from all of this.

The old man stepped back and gazed at his broken patient, brows knit. A sadness flashed through his rictus of shabby joviality.

“Hey, listen, maybe I can help you a little, make you lucid enough to pass muster with the cops, but still not feel it. You want it?”

Jan reopened his eyes, “Yea, please.”

The doctor sighed. “I don’t know how you got into this mess, a lot of people come in and out of here, each with their own sob stories and doomed futures. A doctor can only heal such a little bit of each person, really just janitors cleaning up after the brutality of the system. Ok, let me whip up something for you.”

He went back to the IV machine and scanned his badge, tapping and waving his hands over the input panel evoking a percussion of beeps and boops. “You should be all set now, I’ve got it to drip in slowly over the next 10 minutes, it should make it a bit easier.”

“Thank you”

“Yea, hang in there ok?”, the doctor leaned in close again and said in a low hush, “those pigs are a bunch of fucking sadists.” The old man tapped Jan gently on the chest and gave him a worn out smile, a smile that had once been strong and genuine but made threadbare and eroded by life and its vagaries.

Jan’s chest went sweet and tight where the doctor had tapped, a sudden rush of emotion rising up and swarming his toros. Unexpected kindness can be a sucker punch to the heart. He returned the smile, one rusty from disuse, “Yea, well, I feel better knowing I’ve got the best alkaloids, Doc.”

#sedimentary city

0 notes