#in the waiting room for an appointment to see about getting on antidepressants. and guess what im wearing. TØP SHIRT. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ayybtch · 3 years

Text

The One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Things are going up and down for you as you try to navigate life after your breakup with Bucky. Everything leads to an accidental run-in with him at a coffee shop that leaves you and Bucky wondering if things could have been different. Based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: This is an angsty fic. The reader is actively struggling with mental illness and a breakup. There are mentions of being on antidepressants and symptoms such as anxiety, insomnia, and sometimes not having the energy for personal care, but nothing in-depth.

Word Count: 11,261

A/N: I owe a very special thank you to @borkingbarnes, who has supportively been screaming at me for writing this ever since I told her this idea and gave me some brilliant suggestions during her beta read. The dividers were made by the lovely @whimsicalrogers.

“So, how have the new meds been treating you? Are they still making you nauseous after you first take them?”

You looked across the room at your therapist and shook your head, “No, they’re not making me nauseous anymore. I’ve been making sure that I’ve got food in my stomach first and not just a cup of coffee. I’ve also been better about taking them at the same time each day,” you said.

She smiled at you. “Do you feel like they’ve been helping?”

You shrugged and offered a half-smile back. Not satisfied with your answer, she continued probing. “Well, do you feel like you have more energy than on the other meds? Are you sleeping more….?” She trailed off at the end, voice hopeful.

“Oh. Yeah, I have been sleeping a little better. I’ve been sleeping closer to 5 hours each night, though it’s still taking a really long time for me to fall asleep. I’ve had more energy but I don’t know if that’s because of the meds or the sleep?” You trailed off a bit at the end, unsure of if that truly answered her question.

“It could be a mix of both. I’m glad to hear you’re sleeping more though, you weren’t getting very much when you first started seeing me.” She offered you another smile before adjusting herself in her seat and continuing, “Now, what have you been doing with this extra energy? Any new hobbies, catching up with friends, going on dates, anything like that?”

You shook your head no. “I don’t have much of a friend group anymore, not since…” your voice faded before the sentence finished. You closed your eyes and shook your head slightly. Pull yourself together. “I am meeting Natasha after this, actually. She and I were friends before everything and she’s the only one that’s really stuck around since. It’s been about a month since I last saw her so I’m looking forward to seeing her.” The therapist nodded and offered a sympathetic smile that made your stomach turn. You decided to continue before she chimed in.

“I’m running again too. I used to go on a nightly run before things got bad. It’s not for as long or as far as I used to but it’s better than sitting on the couch, I guess.”

She nodded and began writing on her notepad, “That’s wonderful. What do you enjoy about your runs?”

Her question was unexpected and it took you a minute to answer. “It’s peaceful. It’s one of the few times I can shut my brain off and zone out. Though, if it’s a bad day it doesn't always work.”

She nodded and paused, as if trying to carefully choose her next words. “One thing I’ve noticed whenever stuff comes up is that you always talk about ‘before’, but what about the ‘after’? Have you thought about trying to get back out there and start your ‘after’?” An uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach as she spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Eventually, she nodded and continued to make notes.

***

The session continued for another half hour before it ended with a smile and a brief conversation with her secretary, confirming your appointment for the same time next week.

As you stepped out the door, you let out a sigh of relief. Therapy sessions were hard. Even though today’s session had been relatively mild, the process was still draining and left you feeling exhausted most days. It really helped though and making the decision to go was one of the best decisions you could have made for yourself. A smile settled on your face as you pulled your jacket tighter across your chest before beginning your walk to meet Natasha.

You had discovered soon after starting therapy that walking to and from the appointment gave you the time you needed to prepare yourself for the session and unwind after. The hustle and bustle of New York created the perfect background noise for you to organize your thoughts. Most days it helped you process the questions the therapist asked. Often, you answered them a little deeper than what you had in the session knowing that nobody would know the real answer except for you.

Guilt gnawed at you as you thought about it. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to be honest? Were you still getting as much out of it as you could if you were completely honest? You shook your head and sighed. Sometimes there were things better left unsaid.

One of the many things that had been left unsaid had to do with what you missed most about being with him. You had shrugged it off when she asked, saying it was nice having a person around because it was less lonely. While true, the full answer was more painful than you felt comfortable admitting out loud. He had understood you in ways nobody else ever had and nobody else ever would again. It gave you the freedom to be unapologetically you every second of the day. The thought of not being known like that again and having to put on a facade felt like the loneliest existence the universe had to offer. It made your chest ache.

Today though, it gave you the chance to collect your thoughts before Natasha had the opportunity to interrogate you. To be fair, it wasn’t really an interrogation. She was far too gentle when she asked you questions, though you’re sure that’s one of the many techniques she chose from. Interrogation or not though, she would be watching you like a hawk the entire meal to make sure you were actually doing as well as you were claiming.

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside Natasha’s favorite Italian restaurant. She always recommended meeting up here purely because of the breadsticks. She swore they were the best in New York and ate at least three full baskets by herself each visit. You paused before entering, suddenly nervous about how it would go. There’s nothing to worry about, Natasha isn’t going to bring him up and isn’t going to push me past my boundaries. You weren’t quite as convinced as you would have liked to be, but you couldn’t delay it any longer as you stepped inside.

A blast of warm air surrounded you as you were greeted by the hostess. It didn’t take for her to lead you back to where Natasha was sitting, a glass of wine already in her hand. A second sat waiting on the table for you.

You walked over, bending down to give her a side hug and a peck on the cheek.

“You’re late,” she said reproachfully, eyes zeroed in on yours.

“I know, I’m sorry. My session went a little over today.” You pulled out your chair and sat down before continuing, “How are you? It’s good to see you.”

Natasha smiled brightly. “I’ve been good. I’ve been really looking forward to this, I was so happy when you said yes. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen you.” You grinned slightly and she continued. “I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to catch up. Work has been keeping me even busier than usual. Stark has been working on all sorts of new tech developments and has somehow recruited me for testing.”

You nodded as you took a sip of your wine, “Nothing he’s made has killed you yet. That’s impressive.”

She snorted, “He’s lucky I didn’t flat out say no. His last update to the Falcon wings sent Wilson through the ceiling and landed him in the medbay for three days with a concussion.” Natasha noticed the look of concern on your face and waved her hand as she sipped on her wine. “He’s fine, don’t worry. All of the Avengers men have skulls harder than concrete.” The two of you burst into laughter at the thought.

A waiter arrived as your laughter died down to take your orders and to refill Natasha’s wine glass. You both thanked him as he turned to walk away. A quiet settled over the table and Natasha’s gaze landed firmly on you.

“So how have you been?” she asked softly, voice far gentler than anyone would expect from a former assassin. You shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“Some days are better than others,” you said, “Overall things are better than they’ve been for a while now though. My shrink has me on some new meds that seem to be helping and I’ve been working harder on doing little things to take care of myself every day, not just the good days.”

Natasha nodded, eyes still fixed on you. Slowly, she reached a hand out across the table and placed it on top of yours. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You can call me any time of day and as long as I’m not on a mission, I can be at your apartment within the hour.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at her words. You nodded quickly, eyes blinking fast to try and keep the tears that were welling up from falling. She gave your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Now where the hell are our breadsticks? This is going to be a failed meal if I have less than twelve in me before the main dish arrives.” Her words made you burst out laughing once again and succeeded in putting a smile on your face for the remainder of the meal.

***

“Are you sure I can’t drive you back to your apartment?” Natasha asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck as the two of you stepped out of the restaurant. You nodded at her and smiled.

“I enjoy walking, it clears my mind,” you said. She let out a disapproving hum but didn’t argue further. She pulled you into a bone-crushing hug before turning and walking towards where her car was parked. You watched as she stepped in and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot. You stood and watched until her car was out of sight before turning to start the walk home.

As it was on the walk to the restaurant, the busy streets provided the perfect background noise needed for you to quiet your mind. You focused on your breathing, allowing yourself to try and channel any residual nervous energy outward. With each breath, the faces passing by began to blur. Neon signs hanging in the windows of the shops you passed by became nothing more than a gentle glow in your peripheral. With each step you took, the background seamlessly blended together more and your focus on yourself heightened. A sense of calm settled itself in your chest. The feeling grew stronger with each block you passed until a small smile made its way onto your face. That feeling ended abruptly as you turned around the next block.

There was a large crowd waiting at the bus stop, but your eyes focused on one man. You stared at his silhouette, panic building with each second. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you and your feet had magically turned into cinder blocks. Is that...? No, it couldn’t be…

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, the man turned slightly so you could see his face, and a sigh of relief left you. You stood there a moment longer to examine his side profile. It wasn’t him; he just happened to look like him. He was about the same height and weight, with similar chocolate waves. Your eyes landed on his light brown leather jacket and a lump formed in your throat. He had worn a similar jacket the day you met. It felt like being thrown back in time as you continued to stare at the man in front of you.

Natasha drug you through a hallway, not caring about your protests to slow down. “I have someone I want you to meet.” She smirked as she spoke, leaving you to wonder what she was plotting.

A group of choices greeted the two of you as you entered the room. You waved at Steve and Sharon sitting on the couch as Natasha continued to pull you across the room to where two men were standing. One of the men was Sam, whom you had met the last time Natasha brought you to the compound. The other was Bucky Barnes. You hadn’t met him before but you knew who he was. It was impossible not to given how public everything about Hydra had become.

“Barnes, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Natasha said, turning slightly towards you.

Bucky turned to look at you, offering a charming smile as he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Bucky.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, hoping to god you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. The pictures of him floating around on the news did not do him justice. Bucky was absolutely breathtaking. His smile lit up his eyes in a way no camera could ever hope to capture. His hair was cropped just above his shoulders, falling into a beautiful wavy pattern. You realized you were staring and felt your face get hot.

“Uh, I like your jacket,” you mumbled, hoping he hadn’t realized you were staring. The leather jacket was a beautiful light brown. It looked old, but well loved at the same time.

He smiled widely at you, “Thanks! Leather jackets are kind of my thing. Sam here thinks I have too many but there’s no such thing as too many leather jackets, wouldn’t you agree?”

As the memory floated away, you couldn’t help but think how Bucky probably would’ve gone up to the man to ask about his jacket. You chuckled at the thought. As soon as he walked away, he would’ve immediately started looking up where he could find one for his own closet. It didn’t matter how many leather jackets he had. He always wanted more.

The chuckle died on your lips and was replaced by an uncomfortable knot settling in your stomach. A heavy weight fell on your chest and you forced yourself to find the energy to trudge forward.

The remainder of the walk was a blur, but not in the same way it had been before. This wasn’t the good kind of blur that helped you to focus. It was the kind that left you feeling suffocated and as if everything would come crashing down all at once. That had been the first happy thought about Bucky since the two of you broke up. His presence in your thoughts was so strong, he might as well have been walking right next to you. You could practically feel his knuckles brushing against yours with each step you took. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could smell his cologne.

The harsh reality of how alone you were hit you as the greeting from your apartment’s doorman pulled you from your thoughts. You shot him a small smile before rushing inside and all but sprinting up the stairs. Your hands shook as you unlocked the door to your apartment, though you couldn't tell if it was from your thoughts of Bucky or from the sudden burst of energy that left you slightly winded.

Once inside, you rushed to your bedroom and changed into the first sports bra and pair of leggings you saw. You needed to get Bucky off your mind and the only way you knew how was to run. It was going to be a long run tonight.

The doorman waved at you again as you exited the building, surprised to see you again so soon. “Someone is feeling motivated today I see,” he joked. You shrugged and slowly began to jog.

***

It took a while to get into your groove, but once you were there you felt good. The movement helped settle the anxious energy that had been building since you had seen the man at the bus stop, while the steady breathing brought your focus back to the here and now just like it had before. That’s something else to mention if she asks about my runs again, you thought. These runs bring my focus to this exact moment in time.

That thought was lost as you passed a small, hole in the wall theater. Small groups were exiting the building, each talking excitedly amongst themselves about the movie that had just finished. The nauseous feeling from earlier came back as memories resurfaced. That was Bucky’s favorite movie theater. Every Sunday they played movies from the 1920s and 1930s. He used to drag you along with him whenever he saw one he remembered from his childhood. Each time he swore up and down that you were about to experience a cinematic masterpiece like no other and that it would change the way you looked at movies. You always rolled your eyes as he said it, but the magic you felt in that theater with him was like no other.

Movies made back then were so different from the movies made now. The characters felt so much more real. They were allowed to be people. Their faults and flaws didn’t take away from the good things about them. These films never failed to make you feel all of the emotions you were meant to feel and each time you exited the theater, you couldn’t help but wish you could’ve remained in that little bubble just a few minutes longer. Those bittersweet feelings about the ending never lasted long though, as Bucky would wrap his arm around your shoulder and proceed to talk your ear off about the movie until you made it home.

“You know Doll, the greatest films of all time were never made,” he said, smiling down at you.

You just laughed and shook your head.“Bucky that makes absolutely no sense.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, making you laugh again. “Think about it though, how many movies haven’t been made because someone decided they weren’t good enough for the big screen? How many stories have been brought into existence but never been told to another living soul?”

A car horn brought you back into reality. Bitterness crept into your chest as you processed the memory that had just played out picture-perfect in your mind. Those afternoons with him in the theater had been some of the best afternoons of your life. Even if you weren’t crazy about the movie, Bucky’s sheer excitement about it was enough to convince you of how wonderful it truly was. If only he had felt that same amount of joy in other areas of your relationship.

Your bitterness slowly began to turn to anger as you thought about the last few months of being with Bucky. Sunday matinees had stopped being a regular thing as Bucky’s work schedule picked up until they stopped happening entirely. His new position training new SHIELD agents and prospective new members to the Avenger ate away at his time. All of his time. It got to the point Bucky never stopped working. Even at home, his thoughts were on paperwork to be filed, training to be planned, or meetings to be run. You’d be sitting on the couch next to him trying to talk only to receive disinterested “hmms” or the occasional “That’s nice honey.”

You tried bringing it up to no avail. He always brushed it off and said things would calm down eventually and that he just needed you to hold out a bit longer. He never outright said his work was more important to him but the implication was there and you felt the weight of it every single day. You bit your tongue and played along for a while, but after several months of hearing the same excuses, you finally snapped. Unfortunately, so did Bucky.

“All you ever do is work. I can’t remember the last time we went and did something together. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time you cared enough to even ask me about my day. It’s like you don’t even want me around anymore,” you hissed, glaring at Bucky.

“Excuse me for caring about my fucking job. One of us has to if we’re going to continue affording this place,” he scoffed.

Ice filled your veins as you stared at him, fist clenched at your side. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, we both know you’re barely getting your work done on time. You lay here on the couch all day watching TV. You’re lucky you’re allowed to work from home because you look like a walking disaster half the time. You’ve stopped wearing clean clothes, you hardly shower, you hardly eat, and you hardly sleep. Face it, you’re depressed.” His voice was flat as he spoke.

You furiously blinked back tears that were trying to well up as you processed his words. “First of all, I am not depressed,” you muttered, “Second, if I’m such a walking disaster then what are you even still doing here?”

“I am still here because I care about you. I have lost track of how many times I have asked you to get help. I’ve been where you are, I know what you’re going through and I know what it takes to come back from it. If you never bleed, you’re never going to grow. If you can’t move past this, then we -” he paused to motion between the two of you “- can’t move past this.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke. There was no malice in them, but there was also none of the kindness or warmth you wished for. His gaze just felt indifferent.

You remained silent as you tried to find words. Bucky continued watching you, waiting expectantly for a response. A response never came, however, and he let out a loud sigh.

“If you don’t have anything to say to that, then I think we’re done here. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I love you, but neither of us is happy. I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I need,” Without another word, Bucky grabbed his coat and walked out the front door of the apartment.

That was the last time that you saw Bucky. He had sent you a text a few days later asking when a good time to come pick up his stuff would be. You responded begrudgingly, telling yourself that the sooner his stuff was gone the sooner your life could get back to normal. When the day came, you forced yourself to get out of the apartment. The thought of seeing him after what went down between you left you seeing red. When you finally went back after he left, you felt none of the happy emotions you had convinced yourself you would feel.

Instead, you felt the empty spots in the room. Every missing item you noticed felt like a blow to the stomach and caused fresh tears to well up in your eyes. Pictures were no longer hanging from the walls; random gaps were in the bookshelves; his leather jacket was no longer slung across the back of the chair he loved in the living room. You stumbled back to your room with your eyes closed, refusing to see what other memories had been ripped from their rightful homes. Once there, you collapsed on the bed and laid there for two days. It wasn’t until Natasha broke into your apartment to check on you after countless missed calls and ignored texts that you finally moved from that spot.

For the millionth time that day, your stomach twisted as thoughts of Bucky floated around in your head. Despite it all, you regretted not being there when he came to get his things. There was never a proper goodbye between you and the thought drove you mad sometimes. Maybe if I had been there, we could’ve worked this out. You scoffed at the thought, but couldn’t deny the heaviness lingering in your chest.

At times you considered reaching out to him, wondering if he would be willing to give you the closure you so desperately needed. Even if it was just over text, it might be better than the nothing you currently had. You still had his number. The two of you even still followed each other on social media. He liked what few posts you made, but you had never been able to bring yourself to look at the stuff he posted. The lines of communication were there, you just had to use them. But communication is a two-way street; if he wanted to talk to you, he’d reach out. Right? That thought had kept you from texting him more times than you could possibly count.

Questions about what could have happened that day swirled throughout your head as your feet pounded against the pavement. Could you have fixed things, or would it still have ended in breaking up? Could you have agreed to still be friends? Would you have at least been able to say goodbye, or would he have walked silently out the door again?

The thoughts continued to plague you until the ache in your legs was too strong to take another step. Out of breath, you looked around at where you stopped trying to figure out how far you had run. It wasn’t until you noticed the fountain about a dozen feet behind you that you realized where you were.

Tony had once rented out a plaza nearby for a 1920s themed fundraiser gala the first year you and Bucky were dating. The gala was the first public event you ever attended with him, though it certainly hadn’t been your last. Natasha had taken you shopping and helped you find a flapper-style dress leading up to it. The two of you did your hair and makeup together, giggling about how you felt like you were getting ready for a high school dance. When you stepped out of the room with Natasha, Bucky wasn’t able to speak. He spent the whole night staring at you like a lovestruck teenager, only to turn bright red whenever someone mentioned it.

Towards the end of the night, you and Bucky had drunkenly stumbled out of the plaza to escape the crowd and found your way over to this fountain. Rather, you had stumbled out drunkenly. Bucky wasn’t affected by human alcohol and hardly had any of the Asgardian mead Thor had so generously brought. While he was a little more cheery than usual, he wasn’t intoxicated enough to even pretend like he was tipsy.

A giggle left your lips as you stumbled forward. “Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.”

Bucky laughed at you and picked you up, carrying you bridal style. He spun around slowly as he searched for somewhere he could set you down. His eyes eventually settled on the fountain and began walking towards it. He carefully set you down before sitting down next to you. His eyes were fixed on you as you took off your shoes, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you did. You smiled over at him, before turning around to stare at the fountain in wonder. A giggle left your lips as you pulled up your dress and began walking around in the fountain.

You laughed any time you went through a jet of water. The temperature difference was soothing against your skin and almost left a tickling sensation as you passed. Eventually, you arrived back at where he was sitting and the smile on his face filled your stomach with butterflies. You bent down slightly to press your lips against his, your hands making their way through his hair. His hands landed on your hips and pulled you closer to him. You felt dizzy as he held you, though you weren’t sure if it was him or the glasses of champagne. You pulled away abruptly as an idea struck you, leading to Bucky’s eyes opening in confusion. His gaze fell upon the mischievous look you wore and he opened his mouth to speak. Before he managed to make a sound, your hands left his hair and were reaching down to splash water onto him.

He tried to catch your hands to stop you, but you stepped back just out of reach, but not far enough you couldn’t keep splashing him. Without a word, he reached down to take off his shoes and socks. A gasp left you as he stepped into the fountain and you rushed to hide behind the fountain’s centerpiece. He chased after you, hands eventually catching your waist and spinning you around to face him. He stared down at you, wonder and adoration written on his face. He slowly leaned forward to press his lips against yours.

The dizzy feeling from before came back, though this time you could say with absolute certainty it was because of the man standing in front of you. His lips were so soft against yours, yet still carried such a force they left you breathless. Fireworks had nothing on how he made you feel. No words could ever hope to describe the love and adoration bursting in your chest.

This time, he was the one to pull back first. He moved his lips up slightly, pressing a kiss to your nose and your forehead before leaning his head against yours. “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and the two of you began to slow dance in the fountain. You don’t know how long you were in the fountain dancing; it felt like eternity paused to give you and your love all the time the universe had to give so you could enjoy this moment a little longer. The only sensations tying you to reality were Bucky’s warmth and the cool water moving at your feet as Bucky spun you around. You pulled away slightly and smiled at him. “We should make a wish,” you said.

Bucky looked at you with confusion. “A wish?”

You nodded, a small smile filling your face, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

The laugh that left his lips made your heart flutter. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he paused to laugh again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.” One of his hands left yours and reached into his pocket, looking for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two pennies and handed one to you. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

You stared down at the penny in your hand, wondering what wish could possibly be better than the night you were currently having with Bucky. The wish hit you suddenly, a smile breaking out on your face. You pressed your lips to the penny and wished with all your might, ‘I wish for us to have more moments like this together, from now through the rest of our days”. You opened your eyes and tossed the penny outward. Bucky’s coin was soon nestled safely at the bottom of the fountain with yours.

“What did you wish for?” he asked, pulling you back into his arms to continue dancing.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as he spun you. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

Bucky chuckled, “Me too honey, me too.”

Your eyes came back into focus and a quiet sob left you. You stood in front of the fountain and cried into your hands, cursing all of the emotions you felt. That night had left you convinced that Bucky Barnes was the one. You had fallen asleep dreaming of dancing like that with him at your wedding. But now? Now all you wanted to do was scream. You wanted to scream at him, at yourself, and at the universe for being cruel enough to lead you back to this fountain without him at your side.

As the tears began to slow, a new kind of weight settled in your chest. He really could have been the one. He could have been everything you dreamed of and more, but there was nothing you could do to go back in time to change things. He decided to walk out that door and leave you with nothing more than an empty space in your heart, one to match the empty spaces he left in your apartment.

The questions the therapist had asked you started ringing through your ears as you continued to stare blankly at the fountain. What about the ‘after’? Maybe she had a point bringing it up today. You were still stuck in the ‘before’. Maybe it was finally time to start moving on. Missing items could be replaced; missing love could be given by someone else. All you had to do was make the decision to take your first steps into the ‘after’.

Your feet remained glued in place as you tried to make sense of it all.

You were confused as to where you were. Looking around, nothing seemed familiar. It wasn’t until a familiar silhouette caught your attention that you realized where you were. Bucky stood at the top of the mountain, staring down at the canyon below. Green trees and bushes lined the ground and the air was filled with the sound of birds chirping. The view was beautiful, but you couldn’t stop staring at Bucky. He looked the same, yet something felt different. Bucky seemed calmer than you had seen him in years, almost as if all of his stress had faded away. His body language was relaxed and he seemed to be in no rush to leave where he was.

Suddenly, the once green mountain top was now covered in a blanket of snow. Bucky was now wearing a thick winter coat and was strapping his feet onto a snowboard. He soon had his helmet and goggles on and began his descent down the mountain. It felt like you were flying along with him as you watched him expertly weave his way through the trees. The ease at which he moved confused you. Since when did Bucky know how to snowboard? He expressed wanting to try but never had while you were together. Confusion clouded your mind until Bucky reached the bottom of the mountain and came to a halt. He removed his helmet and a look of pure exhilaration filled his face. His excitement made your heart burst. As you reached out to try and touch him, the scene changed once again.

This time you were in the middle of the ocean. The vast expanse of blue was the only visible thing in sight other than Bucky. He was in full scuba gear, just floating there waiting. He was so still that if it weren't for the stream of bubbles that came with each exhale, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was breathing. Out of nowhere, a shape appeared in the distance. As it got closer, you felt your stomach drop. A large shark swam slowly towards Bucky. You rolled your eyes at the realization. Of course, he would go swimming with sharks with no safety cage. That idiot had no respect for your nerves or your -

You were woken up abruptly by the sound of your phone ringing. You groaned and cursed yourself for it somehow not being on silent. In your confused state, you reached out and slowly felt around on the top of your nightstand trying to find your phone. Once you found it, you tilted the screen so you could see who was calling. A beautiful picture of Natasha filled your screen and you sighed. Only Natasha could call randomly and happen to wake you up from a dream about Bucky. You pressed the answer button and begrudgingly brought the phone to your ear.

“Morning, you better have a good reason for waking me up,” you mumbled, letting out a yawn as you finished speaking.

“It’s past noon, you know. Most decent people are already up by now,” You could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

“Shut up. It’s still morning if I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. What do you want? I was having a nice dream.”

Your gruff response got a laugh from Natasha. “Well I was calling to see how your Tinder date went last night, but now I’m wondering if I should be asking what you were dreaming about that has you being this testy,” she teased.

You rubbed your eyes and groaned, “The dream was nothing special, I’m just mad you woke me up. The Tinder date was also nothing to write home about. The guy was awful. He started off super charming like they always do, but he got snappy with our waitress and then tried to get snappy with me when I called him out on it. I paid for my half of the bill and left as quickly as I could.”

“Ugh, gross. Men are actually the worst,” Natasha said. You hummed in agreement and she continued, “So are you ready for me to start setting you up, or are you going to keep giving these Tinder people a try?”

You sighed and paused for a moment to think. “Nat, I know you’re trying to help but the only people you have that you can set me up with are all SHIELD employees. I don’t see it ending well if I go down that path given my prior dating history.”

A scoff came through the phone. “He’s dating again too, so he has no right to be pissy about anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, he was also the one who ended it so he doubly has no right to be upset.”

You sat up straight as she spoke, your stomach dropping at the thought. “He’s dating again?” Your voice sounded small, smaller than it had in ages.

This time it was Natasha’s turn to pause before responding. “Yes. He’s taken a few of the receptionists here out on coffee dates, but nothing seems to be sticking. If Wilson is to be believed, he’s also on Tinder. I can’t imagine that’s working out very well for him either though.”

You felt nauseous, but you forced yourself to pause to recenter your thoughts. Of course he would be dating again. It’s been almost a year since you broke up. If you’re dating again, it only makes sense that he is as well. He deserves to be happy too. A heavy sigh left you, “Well, I hope he’s having better luck than I am.”

***

You were on the phone with Natasha for another twenty minutes before she had to go. It felt nice catching up with her, and the two of you made plans for another lunch get together later in the week. The conversation had quickly transitioned away from dating, but the fact Bucky was dating again lingered in the back of your mind for the entirety of the call.

You had been on Tinder for a while now, but somehow it never occurred to you that he might be too. How does a superhero just casually join the worst dating app in existence? Do people actually believe it’s him when they come across his profile? You couldn’t help but snort at the thought. Conversations on dating apps sucked enough as it is, but having to try and prove you’re who you say you are the way Bucky must have to certainly would make it that much less enjoyable.

Almost as if it knew you were thinking about it, a Tinder notification popped up on your lock screen. You opened up the app and saw two new messages from someone you had matched with. You typed out a response and then proceeded to scroll through the list of other potential matches. Most of the profiles you looked at were immediate no’s, but there were a few you swiped right on. It never ceased to amaze you how bad the men on this app were at smiling in pictures. Most of them had only a slight grin in one or two pictures. Any profile with a man properly smiling almost always got a swipe right. The only other type of picture that had that sort of response was for cute cats and dogs.

You continued to swipe, pausing occasionally to respond to a message. Out of nowhere, a familiar pair of blue eyes started staring up at you, causing you to nearly drop your phone in surprise. Of course the day you find out Bucky is on Tinder is the day you come across his profile. You quickly took a screenshot before swiping left and exiting out of the app. You sent the screenshot to Natasha. She responded almost immediately, Guess Wilson was telling the truth 🙄

You laughed at her response as you got out of bed, ready to finally start your day.

***

A sigh of relief left you as you collapsed on your couch after spending most of the afternoon running errands. It hadn’t been anything too bad, but that didn’t stop you from being thankful it was over. You laid there for a few minutes, just enjoying the stillness and the comfort of being on your couch. Once settled, you reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the glass of wine you had poured, and opened up your phone.

You opened up Snapchat and responded to the few snaps you had from Natasha and other friends before opening up Instagram. You mindlessly watched people’s stories, skipping through any of the ones that didn’t interest you. You paused however on Bucky’s.

He was standing next to a beautiful woman, each of them holding a painting in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Both of them had smiles that filled their faces. You stared at the picture, unsure of what you should be feeling. On one hand, it was nice seeing him so relaxed and happy. His posture reminded you eerily of how he looked in your dream. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of bitterness. You had practically begged him to go with you to a wine and paint night while you were together. He always used work as an excuse, either he was too tired from work or he had too much work left to do. You stared at the picture for a minute longer, wondering if they’d be going home together or parting ways for the night. You sighed, shaking your head at your own stupidity before continuing to scroll.

The wind blew violently around you as you struggled to make your way up the street. The weather turned unexpectedly as you were out on your run, so you rushed towards the closest coffee shop hoping to wait out the weather and avoid having to pay for a cab back home. The barista greeted you as you stepped inside and you offered her a smile.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

You stared up at the menu, considering your options. “One large hazelnut latte and a cinnamon roll, please.”

She entered everything into the computer and you held out your card for her. Once your payment was processed, you turned to find a seat. The coffee shop was crowded, no doubt due to the bad weather driving people indoors. You looked around unsuccessfully and had almost resigned yourself to standing when a familiar voice called out.

You jumped at the sound. You turned around and made eye contact with Bucky Barnes for the first time since he walked out your front door. He was sitting there grinning ear to ear, almost as if he was genuinely happy to see you. The thought made your heart burst and it was impossible to hold back an equally big smile.

“Hey Bucky, how’s it going?”

“It’s going really well! Thanks for asking,” he paused and looked around before continuing, “Do you want to sit down? There’s not a lot of seating left and it’s just me here.” His hand gestured towards the empty seat across from him as he spoke.

You paused, unsure of if you should take it or continue to look elsewhere. You looked around the room for an empty seat but didn’t see any. Well, I guess we’re doing this. You stepped forward and mumbled out a thanks as you sat down.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you here if I’m honest. I didn’t think you came to this part of the city very often,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I generally don’t. The weather took a bit of a nasty turn while I was out on my run. I stepped in hoping that by the time I’m ready to leave it’ll have calmed down.”

Another smile broke out across his face as you spoke. “You’re running again? That’s awesome.” He sounded sincere as he spoke which made you smile back.

You nodded, but before you could respond the barista arrived with your coffee and cinnamon roll. You thanked her and took a long sip of your coffee, enjoying the warmth you felt as you did. An awkward silence filled the air as both of you tried to size the other up. You decided to break the silence.

“So, what’s new with you?”

***

An hour later, the two of you were still chatting away happily at the table. Once the conversation started, it didn’t stop. Everything felt like it had at the start of your relationship: easy, comfortable, and filled with excitement. The only pauses that occurred were when the barista refilled both of your coffees and brought Bucky a cinnamon roll, which he ordered after you spent five minutes going on about how incredible it was.

One of the things you had forgotten about being around Bucky was the warmth he exuded. Even on his worst days, he had the unwavering ability to make the room feel safe. You couldn’t ever quite pin down whether it had to do with his cologne being a comforting smell or if that’s just who he was. All you knew is that he always left you aching to lean into his chest and stay there until you absolutely couldn’t. Needless to say, today it left you feeling quite confused given everything that had happened between you.

The thoughts you had several months ago about getting closure were brought back to the forefront of your mind. How had things gotten so bad between you? How had both of you let this wonderful thing fall to pieces without even one final attempt at holding it together? Each little pause in the conversation as you transitioned between topics left you aching to ask all of the questions you had. Everything was so easy and so smooth between you today that you almost felt hope that things were salvageable between you. Maybe, just maybe, your fountain wish could still come true. As you were finally working up the courage to ask, his next sentence knocked all other thoughts out of your head.

“Did you hear that Steve and Sharon are finally engaged? Took that meathead long enough to ask.”

A gasp left your mouth, “No way! It’s about freaking time. Have they picked a date yet?”

He nodded. “First weekend in June. Sharon’s already picked their wedding colors too; sage green and rose gold. She explicitly said she picked rose gold because she wants to serve that rosé champagne you introduced her to. It’s still her favorite to this day.”

A bittersweet smile made its way onto your face as you thought about what he said. You had brought two bottles of that sparking rosé to a dinner Sharon hosted once, back when she and Steve were still circling around their feelings for each other. Sharon had barely taken her first sip before asking you for details on where you bought it. Ever since, Sharon always had a bottle in her fridge. Her friendship was the one you missed the most after the breakup. There had been a few half-hearted attempts from both of you to reach out, but each time her responses felt forced. Eventually you stopped trying.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful wedding. They deserve it,” you said. A chuckle left your lips as a new thought entered your head. “How on Earth is Steve going to choose between you and Sam for best man?”

Bucky joined in on your laughter, making your stomach do summersault after summersault. “Sam and I were actually wondering the same thing, but apparently they’ve decided to not do a bridal party. That makes things easy for me though. I get to kick back and enjoy the wedding knowing I have no responsibilities.”

The idea of Bucky having a blast at a wedding made you smile. The smile faded slightly as you realized this meant Bucky was now going to need a date for this wedding. Images of him in a fancy suit, twirling another woman around the way he had in the fountain with you flashed before your eyes. You felt your heart breaking all over again at the thought of how it could’ve been you if you hadn’t fucked it all up. How stupid could you have been thinking the two of you could talk things out after all this time. He’s probably already planning on asking that girl from the wine and paint night to go with him. She had appeared on his social media several times since that night and each time it made your chest ache a little more. Bucky’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You tried smiling but felt yourself falter and knew he noticed it too. “Yeah, just caught up in my thoughts.” You needed to get out of here and fast. Conveniently, your phone screen lit up and you were able to fake gasp at the time. “Oh my god, look how late it is. I really should get going.”

Bucky stared at you, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change in the atmosphere. You stood and rushed to collect your things.

“It was really nice seeing you again Bucky,” you said, offering him a half-smile as you take your first steps away from the table. He nodded, still looking unconvinced.

“It really was. Maybe we could do this again sometime?” He asked, trying his hardest to keep too much optimism from creeping into his voice.

Your eyes went wide with surprise, but you slowly nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

The same awkward silence from before filled the air, only this time neither of you seemed to know how to break it. You offered a small wave and made your way out the door, refusing to turn around and hug him despite how strongly your body was screaming at you to do so.

Bucky stood there staring after you until you were out of sight. A sigh left him after you rounded a corner and he began to collect his things.

***

Bucky had made his way back to the Avengers compound with relative ease, though his mind was still stuck back at the coffee shop with you. He had nearly choked on his coffee when he saw you walk in and hardly realized what he was doing when he called out to you. His mind had started screaming at him from the second he offered you a seat and apparently had yet to find a good enough reason to stop. Talking to you had been magical. He had forgotten how well the two of you meshed once a conversation was started. Nobody else had ever been able to keep up with his constant jumping between topics, not even Sam and Steve. You never made him feel bad for his quick transitions; you just understood and accepted that was the way his mind worked. Even after all that time, you took it all in stride.

An unexpected slam of a cabinet door caught his attention as he made his way through the communal kitchen. Sam was standing there, unloading dishes from the dishwasher. Bucky greeted the man with a gentle nod of the head as he pulled out one of the barstools to sit.

“That was a long coffee shop visit, you run into a cute girl there?” Sam teased, smirk playing across his face.

“I ran into her.”

Sam’s motions paused as he processed Bucky’s words. He looked up at his friend, who was conveniently not meeting his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Her as in…?”

Bucky nodded and Sam let out a slow puff of air. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked cautiously.

It took a few minutes for Bucky to find the words. “You know Sammy, I actually don’t know. There are too many contradictory feelings in my head to pinpoint just one.” He finally looked up and met Sam’s eyes.

Sam motioned for him to continue.

“It was so nice to see her again and talk to her. It made me feel like things were back when we were both still head over heels in love with each other. She’s doing so well. She’s made huge progress mentally, she’s been given a promotion at work, she’s just out there living her life. It made me so happy to see...

“But the happier I got sitting there talking to her, the angrier I got with myself for being such an ass while I was with her. Who has a woman like that in their life and chooses to ignore her for work? What kind of jerk does that?” He paused for a moment, staring down at his feet before continuing.

“There was a moment where she looked at me and I looked at her and I just knew we were both wondering where the hell we went so wrong. She looked like she wanted to say something so badly, but decided against it and just...got up and left. I kinda deserved it though-” he let out a dark chuckle, “- it’s what I did to her after all.”

Sam had continued unloading the dishes as Bucky spoke, trying to keep things casual while he got everything off his chest. Once Sam knew Bucky was done, he paused and rested both hands on the counter to give his friend his full attention.

“Yeah, you were an ass who put work first. She was a great girl who loved you unconditionally. You let her down and yourself down too. But she also had her issues that contributed to what happened. It’s not all on you.” Sam shot a reassuring smile at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, knowing Sam was right. He couldn’t help but sigh and put his head in his hands though as more thoughts swirled around in his head. “I can’t help but think about how my actions probably worsened things for her though, you know? She was depressed for a while before I started acting that way, but I certainly didn’t help the situation. And just...I walked out on her. I walked out and didn’t even give her a proper goodbye.”

Sam stood still and nodded along. “You did, but what you’re forgetting is that you also did because it was also the best thing for you at the time. Both of you were unhappy with who the other was becoming at that time. Sometimes breaking up is the best route to take and they don’t always end with a clear-cut goodbye. You guys may have missed out on some closure, but if today went as well as you said it did, maybe you’ve got a different kind of closure coming down the pipe.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at his friend. ��What do you mean?”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed softly, “Man, what did your dumb ass do with girls before I came along?” He continued laughing for a moment before resuming, “What I’m getting at is that if today went as well as you think before the awkward ending, what if there’s a possibility of reconciling? Even if it’s not in a romantic sense, you could always try and be friends.”

For a moment, Bucky’s heart surged. Maybe Sam was right, maybe things could be fixed. He knew things were going well before you got up to leave, maybe he could try and make things right.

Then, the memory of how uneasy and uncomfortable you looked at the end of the conversation replayed in his mind. He felt his throat tighten and tears well up in his eyes. You didn’t want him back. He had his chance today and he blew it.

He shook his head slowly and whispered, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Sammy.”

***

Sam eventually let the topic drop and Bucky was free to make his way back to his rooms. A familiar meow rang out from across the room and was soon followed by the sound of excited footsteps rushing towards him. Alpine rubbed himself against Bucky’s legs, meowing expectantly. He chuckled and crouched down to rub Alpine’s ears.

“Hey there buddy, did you miss me?”

Alpine meowed, almost as if to say yes. Bucky smiled and picked up the cat before standing up. He made his way to his bedroom and let Alpine jump down onto the bed once they were close enough. His boots were kicked off haphazardly at the foot of the bed before he climbed into bed. Alpine came and curled up under one of his arms, purring slightly as he did. A sigh left him as he mindlessly pet the cat and adjusted his position until he was comfortable.

Bucky’s thoughts turned back to you almost immediately. His heart ached as he began to relive the night he knew he had fallen in love with you. How he wished he could go back in time and experience it all over again.

“So, Stark is holding a fundraiser in about three weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” Bucky asked.

The smile on your face made his heart flutter. “Of course! What’s the dress code?” you asked. “I’m not sure if I have anything fancy enough to wear to a Stark gala.”

“It’s a 1920s theme. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that though, considering I was barely old enough to remember the first half of the decade.”

A teasing smile broke out across your face as he spoke. “So what you're telling me is the oldest man in the room somehow still isn’t old enough to remember the roaring twenties? Tsk tsk,” Your teasing tone made him laugh and lean over to kiss you.

“I’ll have you know young lady -” he paused to place kisses all over your face “- this is a completely unacceptable thing to say. Don’t you know you should respect your elders?” You continued to giggle as he continued to kiss you.

***

On the day of the gala, you were whisked away early in the day by Natasha. She claimed the whole day was needed to properly prepare, which left Bucky standing there rolling his eyes. But when you finally stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the compound, Bucky felt his heart stop. You looked ethereal. The flapper style dress you were wearing fit you perfectly, your hair was elegantly framing your face, and your lips were painted the most perfect shade of red he had ever seen. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the entire night.

By the end of the night, the champagne finally had gone to your head and you were desperate to leave. You grabbed his hand giggling, rushing as quickly as you could out of the reserved plaza. You stumbled a few times over the uneven cobblestones, so he kept a hand on your waist just in case.

“Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.” you giggled as you spoke, making his heart flutter for the millionth time that night. Without a word, he picked you up bridal style and slowly spun around as he searched for somewhere you could sit.

His eyes landed on a large fountain a short distance away and he began walking towards it. You settled comfortably into his arms, with one hand sneaking under his tux jacket and gripping gently onto his shirt just over his heart. Bucky wondered if you could tell it was about ready to beat out of his chest as he leaned slightly to set you down on the fountain’s edge. He had hardly sat down next to you before your heels were kicked off. It was amazing how much more relaxed you looked just from doing that.

He was so focused on how beautiful you looked he almost didn’t hear you giggle or realize what you were about to do. His jaw dropped slightly as you stood in front of him in the fountain, dress pulled up slightly as you waded in.

Bucky’s eyes never left you as you walked around, letting out the cutest laughs with each stream of water that you walked under. When you arrived back at where he was sitting and his whole world stopped as you bent forward to press your sweet lips against his. Your hands found their way to his hair as his made their way to your hips. With every ounce of his being, he wished his hands could make their home. They belonged there, allowing him to hold you so tightly against him it was almost impossible to tell where his body stopped and yours began.

It startled him when you pulled away suddenly, but the confusion didn’t last long as he was met with a handful of water and mischievous laughter. The splashing was relentless. You refused to stop despite him begging for you to quit it. He rushed to remove his shoes and socks so he could jump into the fountain with you. The excited squeal that left your mouth as you started rushing through the water trying to escape him made him grin. He was going to catch you and you knew it. That didn’t stop you from trying to delay the inevitable though. You tried to hide behind the fountain's centerpiece and to fake which direction you were going to run. When you decided to leave the safety of the centerpiece, he had you back in his arms facing him within seconds.

As he watched your face, the overwhelming urge to confess the extent of his feelings filled his chest. He loved you. He had known for weeks now, but staring at your beautiful face reaffirmed it so deeply in his soul that it felt like an integral part of who he was now. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. Instead, he leaned forward and he channeled everything he had into a kiss. He wanted this to be the kind of kiss written about in fairytales; one that leaves audiences tearing up over and longing for. He hoped you felt everything he didn’t have the courage to say tonight and the small voice in his head hoped you felt the same.

He felt you smile into the kiss, making his heart swell. He pulled away gently after a moment, staying close enough to press kisses across your face. You had told him once how special you felt when he did it; now he couldn't stop doing it. He needed you to know how special you were to him, how loved you were in his arms. When he was satisfied, he rested his forehead against yours. An idea struck him and he smiled at you, “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and he began to lead you in a slow dance throughout the fountain. He had never felt more grateful for the dancing experience he gained in his youth and that it was a skill he somehow kept throughout the years of brainwashing and torture. The feeling of your body against his calmed his mind and kept his focus from wandering back to the past. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to have you.

After a few minutes of him leading you aimlessly around the fountain, you pulled away gently and looked up at him with a smile. “We should make a wish.”

His face twisted with confusion. “A wish?”

You smiled as you nodded at him, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

Bucky laughed as he thought about how much like a fairytale this night was turning into. Apparently his kiss had done the trick. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he chuckled again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.”

Reluctantly, he let go of your hand and fished around in his pocket until he found his wallet. He’d never felt more relieved to see pennies in his life as he pulled out the only two coins he had. He pressed one into your hand as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

He watched as you stared down at the penny, wondering what wish you were going to make. Your face was serious as you thought but broke out into the most beautiful smile. You stood there, coin pressed to your lips, before tossing it out into the fountain. You stared up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his wish.

He didn’t need to stop and think about his wish. He knew what his wish was from the day he met you. Following your motions, he pressed the penny to his lips and wished, ‘I wish for a life filled with more wonderful nights like this, with this beautiful woman in my arms’. He tossed the coin in and his hand found its way back into yours.

Without a word, he pulled you back in close to him and resumed leading you around the fountain. After a few moments of peaceful silence, he spoke.

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you said, voice teasing as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

“Me too honey, me too.”

As the memory faded, Bucky couldn’t help but let the tears that had been building fall. That night had been so wonderful. You deserve someone who could give you nothing but nights like that, not the heartache he put you through. He closed his eyes and whispered to no one but himself, “You could’ve been the one. You should’ve been the one...”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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gravedangerahead · 3 years

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Vent post, I don't even know what to tag this for content warnings. I just can't stand doctors anymore I can't do this I hate this

First there's no more digital appointments because apparently the pandemic is over and I'm the only one who didn't notice, so I had to go all the way there to see that asshole in person and stay in a waiting room with a bunch of people

The psychiatrists available through my health insurance keep changing and there are less and less of them, so I went to a neurologist, and he said he only prescribes adhd meds to children because adults understand they have to control themselves and slow down their minds. He recommended meditation and when I said I already do meditate there was no part 2 to his brilliant plan to just fix my mind myself.

He did end up giving me a prescription for my adhd meds just this once, I was actually surprised, but not not the antidepressants, so I'm gonna try to see a psychiatrist again.

I once had a psychologist tell me to "just focus" before I got my diagnosis. I could have killed her. That's brilliant, why didn't I think of that. I do know I should focus, and I also knew I shouldn't have suicidal thoughts and for some reason just knowing that didn't make me better. The meds helped. The adhd meds helped me focus, and the antidepressants helped stop constantly wishing I was dead.

I know that medication shouldn't be the be all end all, and that you have to put in the work and develop healthy coping mechanisms and all that. And I do my best to do all that and no doctor has helped me with that AT ALL. At most I got some vague suggestions that I meditate with not even any recommendations on how to start and maybe got told to exercise.

I did all the research for techniques to help by myself, listening to other people who deal with the same things, even though I worry a lot about getting misinformation, but it's not like there's anyone else to help me.

I think I should probably go to therapy again and that could he helpful, but therapist I went to for the longest, mentioned above, pretended to respect my sexual orientation only to start trying to cure my asexuality months later (well, she was probably doing it the whole time, but I was an idiot and I trusted her), she didn't "believe in diagnosis" or labels in general I guess. After I was diagnosed and started taking my meds she wanted to help me so I "wouldn't need them anymore, and could stop taking them" even though she had a fucking year to treat me before I started taking them and her best attempt to help me was to tell me to just "go there and focus".

After that, whenever I try to start therapy again on the very first appointment they ask me about my romantic life, and when I say I'm not dating anyone they tell me "that's important" so I just panic and don't show up again.

I actually think I improved a lot recently, and it definitely started with the meds, but I also got fired, and that sucked, but I think not working there anymore helped a lot. But I have much less work now and that's not sustainable, I'm not getting enough money and my parents are wasting their money on a 25 year old when they don't even have their retirement all set

I'm gonna move to a different state soon,but I don't know exactly when because there's a bunch bureaucratic bullshit to figure out, so I don't know when I need to get an appointment there instead of here, when I should be setting them up well in advance because it's been hard, and how I'll even get a doctor there since my insurance is for my state only

I can't even complain to anyone about it because the doctors' opinions will just confirm the idea that yes I shouldn't psychiatric meds, I should just live healthier and yes my asexuality is a problem that should be treated because there's something wrong with me, and I'm so tired, I'm so angry

Just give me my prescription and I'll figure myself out. No, I don't particularly wish psychiatrists would actually pay attention and ask questions and try to research things to help me any more, just give my prescription and let me go. Just don't make me prove that I actually have ADHD and that I'm not just trying to score meds every time I have to get a new psychiatrist AGAIN

#there are whole paragraphs of this nonsense that are in the wrong place I don't care anymore #what do I even tag this god #vent tag #if anyone wants to block that that's the general one #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: medical #that's a pre-existing tag medical what I don't know #mental health #aphobia #is adhd denialism a thing #adults have it but they can just fix because they know better seems like denialism to me #he thinks adhd meds are dangerous but gives them to children and not adults #wtaf #I do feel better writing it out #ask to tag any other content warnings

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 3 years

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Love Is Blind: Chapter Nineteen

The drive was quiet. Robyn watched Chris out the corner of her eye as he drove. He seemed normal but there was something nipping at her that there was something going on.

“Is there something wrong? Am I growing a second head or something?” Chris asked.

“No. Why would you say that?”

“I feel you staring at me.”

“Sorry. I just zoned out for a minute.”

“Oh.”

They made it through the whole day without much issue. After stopping for dinner, Chris drove them home. Anesa had fallen asleep in the car so Chris carried her to her bed while Robyn settled Christian in for the night. As she stepped into their bedroom, she watched as Chris dug through his nightstand and pulled out a pill bottle. Taking two pills and taking a sip of water, he put the bottle back.

“There is something wrong with you.”

Chris turned at the sound of her voice, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re taking medication again.”

“And?”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“When was I supposed to? It’s not like we’ve had a conversation in the last few weeks. We agreed for me not to push, remember?”

“Chris, I think you’re taking this way more personal than you need to.”

“Considering how personal this is, that statement is a bit asinine, don’t you think?”

“What medication are you taking?”

“Something prescribed by my doctor.”

“Christopher.”

“My anti-depressants.”

“Are you depressed?”

“Trying not to be, rather get into my preventative methods now before it becomes an issue.”

“Am I making you depressed?”

“You can’t make me anything. You can trigger me but you can’t make me depressed so no.

“Am I triggering you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Anymore questions?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No but I don’t want you to stay if you’re miserable either. I can’t get a handle of how you feel or what exactly you want from me. If staying here isn’t making you happy, maybe we need to find another way to coexist.”

“I guess.”

“Is this why you were staring at me in the car? Did you sense something?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Wasn’t the time”

“And now, all you got for me is an ‘I guess’”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Chris.”

“I just want you to talk to me. Like we used to talk. I feel like I’m losing my mind and myself in this meanwhile you’ve completely checked out. I am way more invested in this being an actual relationship than you are and-”

“And how would you even know that?”

“Because that’s all I’ve been shown. By all means, show me where I’m wrong and I’ll gladly change my point of view.”

“Don’t be sarcastic.”

“I’m not being sarcastic. I get nothing from you. Not a good morning. Not a hello. The only time you pretend to like me is when our children are in the room. Any other time, complete silence. Ignoring me like I’m invisible. Like I’m not even here.”

“Because Chris, on the topics you want to talk about, I have nothing to say.”

“Because you don’t care?”

“Because I’m tired. I’m hurting. I am just trying to make it through the day. I’m still bleeding. I can’t stand longer than 20 minutes. I can’t walk more than 15 minutes. Every other day I feel like my damn lungs are gonna collapse and all you want to fucking talk about is this relationship. I don’t get a damn how do you feel today, Robyn? For once in this lifetime, can somebody be worried about my damn health? That baby damn near ripped me in half and somehow only you get to be depressed. I can’t even look at myself in the damn mirror and you’re only concerned about why I’m not looking at you. You so worried about being this perfect husband to make up for before but guess what, I don’t care about you being my perfect spouse, can you just be my fucking friend? Can I get a hug without it being anything more? Can you sit with me and just be there? Why does everything have to be so damn emotional and complicated with you?”

“Robyn. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not like you really wanted,” Chris noticed her chest starting to heave, he rushed over to catch her before she fell. He carefully held her to his chest, “I need you to just take deep breaths for me, Sweetie.”

“Chr-”

“I don’t want you to talk. Just deep breaths. In and out. I don’t want you to raise your blood pressure and I need you to catch your breath. Just slow.”

Robyn’s breathing started to gradually return to normal. Chris rocked her gently, “there you go. Slow breaths. In and out.”

A few more minutes passed before Chris felt comfortable having Robyn sit up in his lap, “how long have you been having breathing problems?”

“Since I left the hospital.”

“Did you tell your doctor?”

“He knows. He prescribed me some medication.”

“Have you been taking it?”

“Whenever I can’t breathe, yes.”

“Where is it?”

“In the nightstand on my side of the bed. It’s an inhaler”

Chris scooted across the floor to get closer to the nightstand and reached into the top drawer until he felt an inhaler and handed it to her. Robyn shook the item then placed it to her mouth and pressed down on the trigger twice. Chris wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against him. He kissed her temple and rubbed her arm, “have you had any seizures or anything?”

“No, he put me on an anti-seizure medication too. Before you ask, I take it every morning.”

“We’ve really been disconnected these past few weeks, huh?”

“Not exactly by accident.”

“I can admit that.”

“Chris, what are we doing here? Nothing about this is working.”

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. This wasn’t how I imagined us being together again. Maybe I should've listened to you.”

“This isn’t an “I told you so” moment. Clearly, you saw something I didn’t and maybe we were both wrong but we’re here now, we gotta figure something out.”

Chris sighed as he continued to rub her arm, “I have an idea. It might sound crazy but it’s something.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Chris, this feels so silly. I know you’re right down the hall,” Robyn remarked as she stared at the black screen of her laptop.

“I know but clearly, we need to ease back into this communication thing because we definitely got off track somewhere.”

“And how is this supposed to work?”

“Part of the appeal of how we met again was us not seeing each other. All we got to react and respond to were our words, not our body movements or facial expressions. I think we should start there and ease our way back to normal.”

“Chris, I don’t know.”

“Let’s try it and if it doesn’t work we’ll go back to the drawing board.”

Robyn sighed, “I guess. So how are we doing this?”

“We’ll pick a topic to discuss. One topic and we’ll hash our issues out one at a time.”

“You picking or me?”

“You can pick.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were back on your antidepressants?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant or that you even cared. We weren’t talking and barely shared a room.”

“But that’s a completely separate issue from your health.”

“Sure but I could say the same thing about you and I actually took you to your doctor’s appointments.”

“You never asked. Literally not since the day I came home from the hospital have you made any inquiries about my health.”

“Robyn, I do everything that I can for you all the time.”

“You do what you THINK I need you to do, never once have you asked me. I need you to sit with me and give me a hug way more than I need you to get me a glass or water. I need you to walk around the block with me way more than I need you to pick out my clothes. I need your presence, not your labor.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“I can admit that maybe I should’ve said something but trying to talk to you when you don’t think you’re doing anything wrong is really hard. And not that you were doing anything wrong but what you were doing wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t doing for me what you thought it was and that is so much harder to explain without sounding ungrateful.”

“I’ve never thought you were ungrateful.”

“You just thought I was being a bitch.”

“Well….yea.”

Robyn chuckled, “I’ve been struggling with this recovery and learning how to accept this new Mommy me and trying to do that while navigating your emotions has me short-circuiting. I checked out to save my sanity not to hurt you.”

“Hearing this, I can understand that and I sincerely apologize for not being that safe space for you like I promised to be. You were just moving around so comfortably, it never occurred to me that something was wrong and then when you started ignoring me or snapping at me, I just thought it had to be something I did.”

“All this time I’ve been telling you that everything is not about you.”

“Well you’ve been telling me that in the middle of a disagreement, kind of hard to take that at face value.”

Robyn laughed, “I can accept that.”

“So now what exactly are we doing here?”

“This Mr. Brown was your idea, did we meet our first goal?”

“I think we’ve made a good start. You?”

“It is a bit easier not having to worry about whether my facial expression is going to offend you or not.”

“You do have a hell of a poker face, you must admit.”

“I do. Can I see my boyfriend now?”

“You would like my presence?”

“I would like it very much.”

“On my way.”

Within a few moments, Chris playfully plopped on the couch beside her and pulled her into his arms.

“I know I didn’t say it on the call but I am really sorry, I just-”

“Don’t apologize because I understand what you did and why you did it. Me, of all people, should’ve seen the signs but I was so laser focused on the relationship, I wasn’t focused on you and that is ultimately my fault,” Chris replied.

“It’s not your job to be a psychic.”

“No but if I wanted you to notice what was going on with me, I should’ve been just as vigilant with you, right?”

“I’m not gonna disagree.”

Chris laughed, “our babies are asleep. It is still fairly early, what do you want to do?”

“Sit here with you.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Thank you for listening.”

“Thank you for talking with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait a minute, all this shit was going on with you and you didn't tell us,” Melissa said with a frown.

“It wasn’t like that, honestly. There was so much going on with the kids and Chris, I really didn’t want to be bothered with anybody,” Robyn replied.

“Sis, with so much going on, that’s exactly when you need to be bothered with us. Just like before, you wait until things get horrible before you say anything. It’s not good for either of you.”

“You’re right.”

“Does Chris have any friends?”

“None that I’ve seen him hang out with. He’s literally been either here with me or at work since we’ve been back together.”

“He doesn’t go out on the weekends or nothing.”

“Not that I know of. Then again, I can only speak for when I started living with him, what he did before that I don’t know.”

“Well what do either of you do to relieve stress?”

“I watch TV or whatever. Usually he’ll work out when he’s finished with classes but other than that, nothing.”

“You don’t go anywhere?”

“I can’t go anywhere. It’s not like I can freely walk around, I have to take the damn wheelchair.”

“I was wondering why you still using it.”

“I cannot breathe half the time. I am on anti-seizure medication and I cannot stand for more than 15 minutes. Yes, I still need the wheelchair.”

“What did your doctor say?”

“It’s complications from the pregnancy, and the seizure I had after my c-section. My body just hasn’t recovered yet.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Tell me about it. The only time I really get outside is when I take my walks which is really just me pushing my wheelchair around the neighborhood until I can’t walk anymore, since I get tired so easily.”

“So what about after the kids are settled?”

“I go to sleep. I don’t know what Chris be doing.”

“Y’all are in the same room.”

“No. He sleeps in the guest room.”

“So y’all haven’t-” Melissa gave Robyn a look and she laughed.

“No Melissa, we haven’t had sex. We haven’t slept together since- in over 4 months.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m not in the condition to be fucking.”

“Ok but no foreplay? No nothing?”

“Nothing. We just started actually being nice to each other like two days ago, fucking was pretty much off the table even if I was healthy enough to engage in it.”

“Y’all really have changed because back in the day, mad or not, y’all used to get it in. WIth other people in the same house too.”

Robyn laughed, “we were young, horny, and carefree. Wasn’t nothing that serious to not have sex over.”

“And why can’t it be like that now?”

“Experience changes things.”

“That’s true.”

“It’s hard to get aroused by someone you just wanted to choke five minutes ago.” Melissa laughed, “you are so right, Sis. Sometimes Juan drives me to drink. It’s just-ugh.”

“Men.”

“Tell me about it. So about this new method y’all are trying?”

“Chris made a point of how more open we were when we couldn’t see each other. He thought maybe we should do a voice only video chat so we could focus on our actual words and not the delivery. It was weird at first but it kind of worked.”

“That’s great. I am concerned about neither of you discussing your health issues. Y’all could’ve both been severely injured and neither would’ve never known.”

“We did agree that was a childish assumption we both made about each other. He wants to invite me to sit in on one of his therapy sessions.”

“Really? Are you gonna do it?”

“I don’t know. I kind of feel like I’m invading his safe space.”

“Or he wants you to be a part of his safe space. I think it’s sweet.”

“I guess. I’m gonna have to think about it. We’re still in a new space right now and I don’t want to rush anything.”

“That’s understandable. So what’s the plan?”

“We don’t really have one. We’ve been pretty much winging it from day one, no need to stop now.”

Melissa laughed, “so he is moving back into the bedroom?”

“He says he is but we’ll see what happens tonight.”

“Y’all going back upstate today?”

“We were supposed to after he checked in with his bosses but that should’ve been over hours ago now that I think of it.”

“Maybe he wanted to give you time to hang out with your friends. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“That’s because you won’t make that 2 hour drive.”

“You say that like 2 hours isn’t long as hell.”

“It really isn’t. Just get Juan to drive you up then.”

“He hates driving, that’s why we live in the city. Public transportation.”

“Ugh, y’all suck.”

Melissa laughed, “so how’s my babies?”

“They are good. Anesa is growing overnight and Christian is just the cutest little chunk.”

“Aww…” Robyn handed Melissa her phone to look at some pictures, “they are just adorable. Nesa with all that hair.”

“Girl….I thank God Leandra taught me how to braid because her hair is too much.”

“Christian’s hair is gonna grow a lot too.”

“Hopefully he’ll want to cut it when he’s older especially if it grows like his father’s.”

“I think he should grow it out.”

“We’ll see. Mel, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“You ever regret not having kids?”

“No. I don’t think parenting is for everybody. I love kids, don’t get me wrong but everything that comes with having children is just not for me.”

“Oh.”

“You know Lele’s thinking about having another one?”

“With Max?”

“With who else? I wish she would just marry that man and get it over with.”

“I thought they did get married in PR and just didn’t say anything about it.”

“Them two clowns didn’t go through with it. She got into it with his mother then her and Max got into it so it didn’t happen. Waste of my damn money.”

Robyn laughed, “well, you did get a vacation out of it.”

“That’s true.”

“What did they argue about?”

“His mother didn’t like the fact they were technically eloping, Max had the nerve to slightly agree with her and Lele let him have it. Told him to marry his mother if he wanted a traditional wedding so bad.”

“No she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did.”

“That girl is wild.”

“Ch...they are all a mess.”

“I wonder if she’s already pregnant to be honest.”

“It would explain her wanting to have all three kids together all the time. Getting some practice, maybe.”

“Let’s ask her.”

Robyn called Leandra on FaceTime and waited as it rang. Within a few moments, her face came on the screen, “what’s up old bitches?”

“I know you aren’t cursing in front of my children,” Robyn said.

“Do you see them anywhere in the background? So, no.”

“Whatever. What you doing?”

“Taking a break while the kids are taking a nap. When y’all coming back from lunch?”

“In a little bit. Got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“You pregnant again?”

“Who told you?”

“Nobody. So you are and didn’t say anything?”

“I’m still in the first trimester. I always wait until the second to say anything. How’d you know?”

“It was just a wild guess since Mel said you were considering having another baby.”

“Yea, I figured I get the last one out the way while my eggs still worked.”

Robyn laughed, “you are so stupid. So how’s Daddy taking it?”

“Max is happy. He’s been talking about it since Maxwell turned one.”

“Well that’s good. So why didn’t you tell me you and him didn’t get married over vacation?”

“Because I was still mad his short neck Mama messed it up. He was perfectly fine with just us, two witnesses and the preacher until she came in spouting Spanish and getting on my nerves. “Oh, no one in our family elopes. You already had a baby out of wedlock, at least have a real wedding.” I was two seconds from cussing her out so I just cussed her son out instead.”

“Lord Le.”

“Look, me and her have stayed out of each other’s way the entire time me and Max have been together. That was not the day for her to decide to find a voice and start sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I guess.”

“So when’s your wedding?”

“I don’t remember saying I was having one.”

“You might as well, you already had a baby with the man.”

“I just started talking to him again this week, let’s not.”

“Y’all finally stop being childish, huh?”

“Whatever.”

“You were the one calling my house, thinking you were about to drive an hour and a half in the middle of the night to pick up your kids just so you didn’t have to talk to him. Childish is the correct term.”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“So you’re talking? Are y’all fucking yet?”

“I physically cannot have sex right now.”

“Your stuff still split open?”

“Leandra!”

“What? I had a baby, I remember those first few months.”

“I’m still bleeding. My lungs are trash and I can’t stand or walk for longer than 15 minutes.”

“Did the seizure do that?”

“Yea.”

“Oh I’m sorry Boo. I guess ever having another one is out of the question.”

“Oh of course. Once I’m stable, I am getting my tubes tied. I got my baby and I am good. He wants more then we’ll just adopt again.”

“That’s true.”

“Are y’all gonna get married at some point?”

“Probably in a few weeks. I don’t want to be all bloated and shit on my wedding day, even if it is us just standing in front of the judge. Our license is still good, we just gotta get the final part done and we’re married.”

“Me and my wheelchair will be there this time.”

“Good because it’s happening in NY. I am not wasting anymore money going out of town just for his Mama or somebody to ruin it. No go.”

Robyn laughed, “I hear that. Well Mel and I will be there in a little bit. Get some rest, Mommy to be.”

“I am. Luckily Christian sleeps so well.”

“He’s a good baby.”

“Yea. Well see y’all in a while.”

“Alright Le.”

Robyn hung up and turned to Melissa, “what else you wanna do before I gotta get the babies?”

“Let’s go in Nordstrom real quick.”

“Let’s do it.”

#chrianna #loveisblindfanfiction

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sera-cb · 3 years

Text

My vaccine experience has been terrible and stressful and it’s put me in a really weird spot where I 100% believe everyone should get this thing if they’re at all able, but also am terrified to try again myself. Which I have to do, it turns out! Because even with this capitalism’s efforts to do things cheaply and as automated as possible has just absolutely fucked me apparently.

Like first off, I have a day job five days a week and every other weekend I am scheduled to do art streams, one for backers and one for comms, which both are typically needed to make ends meet. Work won’t pay me to miss time for side effects, and I’m finding it very difficult to do these big-ass seven hour streams two weekends in a row on top of my usual work weeks, so finding the right time to get the first dose was a nightmare, but also

that nightmare began with like an hour wait inside of a Walgreens to see if the last appointment would show up or not, because “walk-ins open” is sort of only half true I guess, but largely because if they just gave it to me they’d need to open a new set of the things and they’d all go bad for my sake and that sucks. Fine, I get it, but the dude didn’t show so they scheduled me for the next day.

Then, as I was walking away, the dude shows up, and the guy flags me down and goes “hey let’s do it now after all.” Rad, I thought. Progress.

Another hour waiting in Walgreens.

I finally get the shot. She hands me some papers. I need to wait around for 15 minutes to be observed, they said. Alright, fine. I read the papers while I wait; the side effects of the shot possibly killing you are basically 1:1 with what happens to me during a panic attack. I’ve developed this weird history with needles where I get panic attacks or something adjacent with some weird and mildly random delay after getting any kind of shot. Now I’m thinking about that and the room is spinning. I call my wife hoping she’ll talk me down. I get about two sentences into that call before I wake up to my phone ringing on the floor. Nobody on staff notices.

Three hours after getting there, I hobble out of Walgreens. I’m basically wiped out for three days - even without the shot, the weird lightheaded shit I get from these pass-out sessions does some vile stuff to the rest of my body that lingers for a day or two sometimes.

I was advised that since I got the shot day-of after all I’d need to reschedule my appointment, though, and this led to problems. Walgreen’s vaccine setup only does appointments in pairs; if you missed the first, you won’t get the second, and there was to our knowledge no way to do just the second, especially via their robo phone tree. Kaz deals with Walgreens all the time for her meds, so she knows how to get through the phone tree - it’s by being so hostile that I feel bad for the robot, for the record - but when asking if we could schedule just a second shot either they hung up on us or the line went dead.

I said “screw it, I’ll just show up in a few weeks,” but then I just never did, because I didn’t have a hard deadline to my knowledge and I was quite stressed out from the whole experience, but it turns out that the day I finally worked up the will to get the second dose? Where I had people willing to be there for me in case things went south again?

Three days after the six week deadline before the whole thing is moot, which nobody told me about.

So now I’m back to square one, barely able to work my will up for one more shot but staring down two, wondering if this means I now have the option to go somewhere else or if that counts as mixing vaccines, which even I know to be bad, and feeling incredibly lost and frustrated with the whole thing.

And the brutal truth is that none of these places have accommodations for Kaz that would allow her to get the damn shot anyway! She can’t stand around a Walgreens for hours. She could barely walk back to where the pharmacy even is, and all like two chairs back there are made for skinny little asses so she’d have nowhere to sit while her spine declares war on her. (And this is all ignoring that she basically can’t go out during daylight without a bunch of excess precaution since her antidepressants have rendered her some sort of vampire in the skin department, by which I mean the amount of time it takes for her to get sunburnt is less than the time it takes to walk to the car from the house.)

So I’d still need to act like I haven’t had the shot, because even though it’d stop me from getting sick, I could still bring something home and transmit it to her. Nothing about my life would change. I cannot go back to “normal.” At this rate, ever.

So on the one hand I’m with everyone going “hell yeah get your shot”

but on the other I am effectively one of the people who hasn’t, with someone else who hasn’t and seemingly can’t (I do not understand why we can’t just set up an appointment with her doctor, who does have accommodations, for this??? Why does it need to be some retailer pharma??), and the whole thing is both deeply frustrating, confusing in implementation, and leaving me feeling like a hopeless statistic that’s here just to frustrate everyone else.

Like, I’m probably never going to have a group of people over again? Game nights are gone. Socializing is gone. Web calls never replaced it, we’re not that important to anyone. Holidays are well dead. My family has tried to talk us into attending church for several things, including Christmas and Mother’s Day, and just doesn’t understand how not plausible that is. Kaz is high risk; I have been assured that if she gets COVID, she almost certainly will die. I can’t play fast and loose with this shit like everyone around me wants to. I’m forced to come into work every day as it is and still dread coming up the stairs and being forced to be within five feet of another person, none of whom have ever masked during this thing. If I thought there was a safer job available to me that wouldn’t leave us homeless, I’d take it in a heartbeat.

Sorry for the long post. I just feel so defeated by this whole mess and I keep seeing post after post saying anyone who doesn’t get the shot is an idiot, basically, and while I realize we’re outliers I feel terrible all the same.

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tranquil-space-ninja · 4 years

Text

The Story (Sanders' Sides Human AU)

Ft. Platonic Moxiety, trans Roman, Imaginality (Remus x Patton), and Emciet (Janus x Emile)

Tw: suicide, homophobia, implied abuse, transphobia, f*g said, tra**y said, bullying, anorexia

--------------------------------------------------

Patton stared at his phone. He had a shift at the office in a few minutes, but he couldn't..... He didn't quite know what he couldn't do today, but he couldn't do it. He called in sick. Emile was very understanding. "Take as long as you need, Pat," he said. "Your mental health comes first."

"Thanks, Dr. Picani." He hung up and continued to stare at the message on his phone.

Unknown Number

Got ur number from Jan. How u doing?

It was him. After all these years, it was really him. And, paired with the fact that it was only a week till his brother's birthday.... The last two years of high school came rushing back.

Patton's phone chimed.

Ro's birthday is coming up.

Like Patton didn't compulsively write down the date in his calender every year. June 4. They would have been twenty-six.

I'm moving to ur area 4 work. I finally caught up 2 u.

Patton stared at his phone without really seeing the messages. Tears started to bluer his vision. He wiped them away, only for them to return with a vengeance. Finally, Patton just let himself sob, hoping to get everything out by the time Virgil got home.

***

Virgil waved to his friends as he walked to his front door. His dad's car was in the driveway, which was a surprise. Normally, he wouldn't be back until dinner. He slowly opened the door. "Dad," he asked. Patton gave Virgil a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo! How was school?"

"Okay. How are you doing? Are you sick?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just taking a mental health day. Sit down! I made popcorn. We can watch Black Cauldron."

Virgil sighed and sat down, leaning on Patton. Patton put part of his blanket around the teen and pulled him closer. He loved his son more than anything. He would not let Virgil go through the same things he did.

***

Just as Virgil was about to go to sleep, someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he called. Patton opened the door and gave him another fake smile. He sat down on the chair beside Virgil's desk.

"Can I tell you a story," Patton asked.

"I'm a little old for bedtime stories."

"Please? It's kinda boring, but.... I'll be quick. Please?" Virgil stared at his dad. He hated the desperate look in hs eyes. It was getting closer to June, which meant he'd grow quiet and a bit withdrawn. Maybe this was to preemptively make up for it?

"Sure." Virgil laid down and looked up at Patton.

"Thanks, Virge," he said with a slightly more real, relieved smile. "Let me tell you a story about six boys growing up in Florida."

***

Logan Crofters, Roman and Remus Ryan, Janus Pine, Emile Picani, and Patton Hart. They had been best friends since kindergarten. They were all inseparable. Things got worse in middle school when Roman came out as trans. His parents refused to let him transition or cut his hair, and the other kids were less than supportive. Remus let him wear his clothes, though, and his friends all defended him when they could. And they all survived until high school.

Fast foreward to sophmore year. Logan was on the fast track to becoming valedictorian. The other kids, in addition to whispering, "Fag," and, "Tranny," at them all in the halls, taunted Logan for his intelligence. Remus and Janus got into fights often to protect the others. Patton and Emile tried to keep the group's moral up. Logan and Roman always took it all harder than the others, but they had one teacher, Mr. Sanders, who let them eat lunch in his classroom and used Roman's proper pronouns. He even congratulated Patton and Remus when they started dating. He'd always pair up Janus and Emile for group projects, just to watch them flirt.

Patton, Roman, and Remus's parents passed around a petition to get him fired the next year. It was successful. That was the year everything fell apart.

Roman and Logan couldn't handle the pressure that came with the grades and the bullying. They always said they were fine, but....

One day, Logan quit his job at the library. Said it just wasn't worth it anymore. Roman stopped eating and always brushed his friends off when they begged him to try.

They died the same night. June 4, Roman's birthday. Roman overdosed on antidepressants. Janus, Remus, Emile, and Patton read his note over and over again.

Dear Friends,

I want to start by saying this isn't your fault. Remus, you were the most amazing, supportive brother anyone could ask for. Patton, Janus, Emile, Logan, you are all wonderful and perfect, and you all deserve the world. But.... I can't do this anymore. I can't live in this body one more day or hear someone call me Rachel one more time. I just can't do it. I love you all so much. Please don't dwell on this for too long. I want you all to be happy, okay?

Mom, Dad, I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted me to be. I wish I could have been as good a son as Remus was. I wish you could have loved me as much as he did.

And, Mr. Sanders, if you ever see this.... Thank you. For everything.

Adeiu, best of friends and best of men,

Roman

Logan hung himself. He didn't leave a note. His parents at least gave him a funeral. Roman's parents didn't care enough to even do that.

Luckily, Remus, Janus, Emile, and Patton had saved enough from their various jobs to have him cremated. Emile's parents insisted on helping out, which helped a lot.

The group burried Roman's urn just outside the cemetery where Logan rested. Luckily, his grave was at the edge of the gate so Roman's could be near his. Remus painted a large rock to use as a marker. They all stood by the small grave, Janus holding Emile and Patton and Remus squeezing each other's hands, until the sun rose.

Patton stayed with Remus after Janus and Emile left.

"I can't stay here anymore," Remus had whispered. "I can't stay with the people who killed my brother."

"I know," Patton whispered. "I hate our parents." He brushed back his bangs to show Remus a black eye and a bruised cheek. "If we save enough, we'll run away together," he promised. "We'll get Janus and Emile, and we'll all go to Massachusetts, and we'll get married." Remus nodded.

"I like that." He gently pulled Patton close, and they shared a long, sweet kiss.

Things didn't work out. Senior year was worse. Janus, Emile, Patton, and Remus were the gays who were friends with the two who killed themselves, and that's all anyone ever treated them as. Janus's parents took him and moved to Delaware. He and Emile stayed in touch for a few months before the lost contact. Janus and Patton still talked occasionally, though, even after high school. Emile, Patton, and Remus stuck together, but things would never be the same.

When senior year ended, Patton and Emile prepared to move to Massachusetts, but Remus wouldn't go.

"Please," Patton begged. "We found a cute apartment in Salem. We can start over. We can get jobs while Emile is at school. We can build our own lives. Please come with us." Remus shook his head.

"I can't," he said. "It's only been a year since they died. I just can't leave them yet." Patton hugged him tightly.

"Keep in touch," he asked. Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Over the next few years, Patton kept in touch with Remus. Every year, he said he would finally move in with him, and every year, he had an excuse not to. Eventually, they stopped talking as much, and when Patton changed his number, he forgot to tell Remus.

***

"He and Emile stayed together, though," Patton finished. "Patton became Emile's receptionist when he started practicing independently."

"What about Janus and Remus," Virgil asked.

"Janus is still in Delaware, and I guess Remus is with him." Virgil nodded. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Patton had just told him his life story. He just wasn't going to press any further than that. Maybe someday, Patton would tell him more, but it was almost the day his friends killed themselves. Patton needed time.

***

The next day, Patton went back to work. Larry and Dot were happy to see him. When their appointment was almost over, another patient entered the waiting room and walked up to Patton's desk. "Hey," he said, head tilted down. His voice was low and familiar.

"Hi! Do you have an appointment?"

"N-no. I just moved here and was hoping I could set one up."

"Okay.... Dr. Picani is with a patient right now, but-- Remus?" Remus was staring at Patton, a sad frown accepting his dull eyes. "L-like I was saying, Emile--"

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" Patton began to fiddle with a pen. "You could have just said you didn't want to see me. I get it. I probably remind you of Ro and Logan, and that's fine. I failed you and I put off moving even though I said I would, and I understand that you're mad, and it's okay. But--"

"I wanted to see you." Remus stared at Patton, who stared right back.

"What?"

"I wanted to see you, but I couldn't say it. It's just so close to Roman's birthday, and I didn't know what to do or what to tell my son--"

"You have a son?" Patton nodded, tears in his eyes.

"I adopted him five years ago. His name is Virgil. He's funny, he's dark, and strange and sarcastic, and I love him more than anything."

"Boyfriend or husband?"

"Single dad and rockin' it." Remus laughed despite the tears that were escaping his eyes. Patton laughed with him, also crying. "I'm sorry. For everything," he sobbed. Remus took his hand.

"Me too." And that's how Larry and Dot found them five minutes later.

Holding hands and crying, together again.

--------------------------------------------------

#roman sanders #sanders sides #human au #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #janus sanders #virgil sanders #emciet #janus x emile #imaginality #patton x remus #platonic moxiety #tw suicude #angst

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ladyofpurple · 5 years

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here it is: the post Literally no one was waiting for. i'd put it under a read more thing but i'm on mobile and can't be assed to get out of bed so fuck it. we air our dirty laundry on main for the world to see like men.

so waaay back in february or something, i started seeing a psychologist again. i'd been seeing a psychologist for a while last year, but she had a private practice and got too expensive over time, so i had to stop. now, however, i finally got a referral to the public mental health offices in my county. which is nice, because norway has this neat thing that means when you go to the doctor, public health care facilities, refill prescriptions for medications you have to take daily, etc, the money you spend on those things gets recorded and after you've spent like $260, you get a free card that gets logged into your medical records and you don't have to pay for any of those things for the rest of the year.

anyway, i mentioned a couple of years back that i finally got put on antidepressants for the first time. they helped a lot, but then i just... stopped taking them. there wasn't a reason, really. i just forgot to take them one week when i was stuck in bed with a headcold, and then it was hard to get back in the habit again. i tried to get back on them off and on for a long time, but i'd inevitably just forget again. until, like, i wanna say november/early december last year? i started taking them again. there were still some slip-ups every now and then, but for the most part i took them almost every day. any gaps were no longer than two, maybe three days at the most, and those gaps were maybe once a month or so on average. averages aren't really useful in this context, but i hope you get the idea.

anyway, i finally convinced my doctor that, no, seriously, i really need to see a psychologist, i've always needed to see psychologists my whole life, seeing psychologists help me, i can't afford a private psychologist so i need a public one, and after a lot of begging and insisting on my end and a lot of hemming and hawing on her end she finally agreed to refer me. except she forgot to actually send the email she'd been typing in front of me, and then she quit, so there was a lot of confusion and time spent sorting things out until i got my first appointment.

i didn't like my psychologist at first. she was way older than i'm usually comfortable with (that's a personal me-problem that i know is irrational, and i'm not gonna go into the why but yes i'm working on it), and very blunt in an exasperated sort of way. she made me angry sometimes. she made me feel like i wasn't trying hard enough. but she helped me get shit done, so i guess she was doing something right.

in june she called in a psychiatrist to help adjust my medications, so i started taking zoloft in addition to the other medication (remeron, aka mirtazapine) that i was already taking. the mirtazapine was helping with my depression, but my anxiety was still pretty bad. the zoloft helped.

by my second appointment with my psychologist, she asked me whether i could have adhd, or if there was a history of it in my family. now, i have a lot of family with adhd (how closely related we are by blood is a bit of a mystery to me, my family tree is more like an overgrown hedge and who knows who fits where), and my grandma used to joke that the women in our family "all have a little bit of that adhd brain in us", but as far as i knew, nobody in my immediate, direct bloodline had such a diagnosis. i had my suspicions about myself, of course — i knew that not every focus or attention related problem necessarily has a specific attention disorder source, but i also knew that what i was experiencing couldn't be "normal," in the sense that if i walked into a room with 100 people in it, 86 of those people wouldn't necessarily look at a list of my symptoms and go "oh same hat." i've had add on my about me for a while now. maybe that was silly of me; i hadn't been diagnosed with it, and what i knew about the specifics of it were picked up piecemeal off the internet. you know, that super-reliable place where everyone is honest and factual all the time?

anyway, this began the process of investigating the merits of such a potential diagnosis. research was begun. questionnaires were taken. my mom was invited to one of my sessions, in which she revealed that, oh yeah, bee tee dubs, she's always suspected i have adhd. did she mention that she has also apparently always suspected ocd and that i'm autistic? no? whoops, well, she has now.

end of june i was referred to the neuropsychologist devision of the public health care place. over the course of a little over 6 weeks i went in for 2 interviews, in which i answered several questionnaires, talked about my life and childhood and traumas and what my mom had told me about her pregnancy and labor, every possible symptom i'd ever had, and was sent home with even *more* questionnaries. in addition to these, i went in for two rounds of "testing," in which i was tested on my memory, pattern recognition, reaction time, impulse control, and probably a dozen other things. i was nervous. it was exhausting. i wanted answers but was terrified of what those answers would be.

end of august, my mom came with me for the big reveal. and guess what? she was right. primary diagnosis: adhd, special emphasis on the attention deficit part. bonus diagnosis: asperger syndrome. surprise! i'm autistic, i guess.

it was hard to come to terms with. which sounds really silly, since i wouldn't have even been taking those tests if i didn't think the outcome was a possibility. and it's not like the diagnoses were surprising either. the adhd part was easier to accept, mostly because i already felt pretty confident i had it. but the asperger diagnosis was harder. having to unlearn all those ingrained ableist stereotypes and social stigmas is hard, especially when you had some you didn't even realize were there. it's very surreal to think a thought and be like "no, wait, i do that. that joke is about me." it's a very surreal and slightly upsetting experience to realize how biased you are as general rule, but especially about a facet of your own identity you weren't aware of. and the feeling of everything and nothing changing all at once. i've always been like this. a doctor telling me i have two cognitive/developmental disabilities isn't an event that magically gave me these disabilities. my brain has always worked like this. the only difference between me now and me a year ago is that i have an official, medical reason for Why now.

that's another thing: coming to terms with the idea of being "developmentally disabled." it's not like i'm suddenly a different person — i have to constantly remind myself that my brain has always been like this. but having a piece of paper confirming that i am legally entitled to special allowances in the workplace or at school because i have not one, but two "disabilities" is absolutely buckwild to me.

it makes me reevaluate my life and my past. how many situations did i make worse because i did not have the capacity or knowledge about how my own brain works to self-reflect? was i high-functioning in the past because life was simpler? was it because i subconsciously had a better handle on what works for me and what doesn't, and somewhere along the way i lost that? or was it simply because i didn't have the option to be anything other than high-functioning? it's confusing.

i also lost my spot at college. i can still reapply next year if i want, but at least now i know why i was failing out lmao

anyway, by my birthday in september we started the process of adjusting my medication again. upping my zoloft, getting me off remeron, and as of 6 weeks ago or so, beginning ritalin.

it was a rocky start, but i'm up to 60mg now. two pills in the morning, one in the afternoon. i have a goddamn alarm for 8am every day, even weekends. my sleeping is still wonky, but at least im genuinely tired by 8pm every night. the psychiatrist still wants me to try melatonin for a month (even though i told her multiple times it has never worked for me, and my problem has never been "i'm not sleepy enough"), so i'm on a whopping 2mg of melatonin for the next 30 days. norwegians are fucking WEIRD about melatonin, don't even get me started.

a slightly unexpected side-effect (on my end) of these medication changes: remeron made me gain weight. like, a lot of weight. and i was constantly hungry all the time, overeating to ridiculous amounts. why did nobody ever tell me that weight gain and metabolism changes are a side-effect of anti-depressants? i was more active this summer than i'd been in, like, three years and i just got fatter. which was incomvenient because i kept outgrowing my clothes. anyway, a side effect of ritalin is a loss of appetite and general weight loss. the combination of regularly taking ritalin and dropping remeron entirely? i eat a fraction of what i used to before, i've almost entirely stopped snacking, and i've lost 15 lbs in less than a month. i've already noticed my face is slightly slimmer now. maybe by christmas i'll be able to fit into my old tshirts again.

anyway, my psychologist quit, so i have a new one now. i've only seen her a few times, but she's veeeery different from my old one. i can't decide if i like her or not.

in the middle of all this, i've been going to the social security office as well to kind of get some of my own money, possibly help me get a job at some point in the future. my caseworker is super nice. if she's over 30 i'd be shocked. i relate to her really well, she's very helpful and understanding, and she's very patient with me and my bullshit. she's the kind of person where if we met at a party or something we could probably hang out.

anyway, she's helped me get out of the house sometimes. she introduced me to this youth club volunteer group thing called the fountain house, designed for young people who've dealt with or are currently dealing with mental illnesses and such. i hung out there yesterday and the day before and did some basic office work. it's nice. and then there's a work placement place that can either give you a job on site in one of their four departments, or help you get a job at an actual business elsewhere with more support and leniency than you might get if they just hired you off the street. i'd start in their second hand store. they clean and restore all donations they recieve, and they're super fucking cheap. i treated myself to my literal lifelong dream of owning a vintage typewriter (!!!!!) yesterday, because it's almost christmas and goddammit, i've been doing so much shit the past couple of months i deserve it. do i have space for it? not really. do i have a plan on what to use it for? no. was it heavy and miserable trekking through the snow and rain yesterday back and forth? was it worth the backache in the morning? fuck yeah it was.

a fucking lot of things are happening all at once. diagnoses, medications, lifestyle changes, work placement, social clubs, dealing with bureaucracies on all sides just so i can feel like a person again, not to mention juggling hobbies like writing and drawing and maintaining my irl friendships. i'm getting as many balls rolling as i can while i have the opportunity and mental/emotional capacity to, but i'm worried i'll burn out again. i'm stabilizing and slowly building my life back up, but jesus christ it would suck if this stupid house of cards collapsed again. but i'm tentatively optimistic. who knows, maybe it's not to late to course-correct my mistakes.

so long story short, that's why i've barely been active on tumblr for months. that's why i haven't been writing, drawing, or reading fic. it's coming along, but it's slow.

i guess the most important thing is that it's coming along at all.

#the tmi nobody asked for and will probably never read — you're welcome #Lady of Purple's slice of life #mental illness #medication #adhd #autism #personal

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lostpoliticians · 4 years

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oh and when I went to see my doctor the other day thinking he would give me idk gabbapentin or SOMETHING that will actually help my anxiety. Wrote I saw my psychiatrist this coming week this mf doctor prescribed me multiple antidepressants....

Antidepressants I’ve tried to off myself on multiple times, also, mind you, I am not depressed. I am full of so much anxiety and rage that it just makes me have crying spells and manic episodes. I need a fucking IV of Valium or something. Not really bc that’s not going to do me any good but like I miss the old me from like six months ago when I would just work all the time and just be exhausted from work. But I felt so fulfilled. And I feel somewhat better now that I’ve been back to work the last two weeks but also, dear god I’ve never experienced my anxiety so bad that my skin dead ass crawls. And I get to violent. It is so scary and explosive.

My boyfriend and I celebrated our one year anniversary early last week and it was perfect, he is perfect, he fight but it’s bc of my goddamn mood swings and we got in an argument bc he couldn’t understand how empathetic I could be towards strangers (not saying he’s not, he just was raised from a very good up bringing where he didn’t have to think about helping a classmate pay for their lunch or trip to cedar point). But anyways, since we’ve been together for over a year now my open mindedness and loud ass mouth that never stops running have deff converted some of his prejudice or close minded views on things which is AWESOME. We Stan a man that can grow and allow his girl to educate him on real world issues, bc he lives under a rock. He grew up with a lot of money, (ok more than me), and had a great home life. Besides of horrible choices he made on his own but he’s clean now and better.

ANYWAYS!!!! So my sisters best friend just passed and I’ve been distraught bc yes as cliche as it fucking sounds I am very much an empath. So, I feel the loss my sister is carrying in her heart when it comes to dealing with the loss of her soul sister. So anyways In the midst of my boyfriend and I having this conversation about my sister’s friend’s passing and how unfair it is that she was so young and so healthy and so lively and everybody loved her...and now she’s just gone. Alex did understand why I was sobbing for my sisters best friend loss but my sister was stone cold about it. That’s just how she is around people but behind close doors she breaks down. So, when I don’t feel heard or understood properly (ok I’m realizing now I have hella anger issues) I result to violence. And I don’t mean like throwing a remote across the room, I’m talking, I grabbed the bunch of beautifully trimmed sunflowers Alex bought me for our one year anniversary (which no many has ever never bought me my favorite flowers before) and I ripped them in half and started screaming and I threw the vase. And I was just throwing shit and hitting myself all over and in the face and yes I gave myself a black eye.

I have never ever ever been through this much fucking stress and sadness before in my entire life. I feel so batshit insane and I know I’m not, I know I’m not alone but the older I get the weak my mental health get and I know a lot more mental illnesses are more prominente once you hit your mid to late 20’s and guess what....I turn 25 next week....and these last two years I have felt so many highs n lows but have just played them off bc typically I can get myself back on track. But these mood swings I’ve been having bc of my anxiety lately. Sorry this is just a manic ass sleepless post...I’m waiting for my Xanax to kick in so I can finally lay my head down and rest. But I don’t even think the amount of green hulks I have currently could knock me out right now.

I can’t wait to see my psych doctor Tuesday. I hope he knows I’m getting more than an hour with him. Idgaf if I have to pay an extra $300 out of pocket for an extra two hours. Like, let’s go babe, let’s figure out wtf we can do to fix my mental

Oh AND I got my obgyn procedure results back and they came back perfect no signs of infection with cancer and stuff then I get a whole call again from their office like not even an hour later telling me m doctor reviewed my file in more detail and that pretty much I should be worried and I need to come back in ASAP to get another procedure done. Like, just take all my lady bits out so I can stop worrying about getting cancer bc it’s genetic. Like, Alex and I will adopt a black baby or soemthing just fucking end my shit so I can finally enjoy sex again and not have to go to the obgyn once a month get my cervix scrapped to test for cancerous cells.

I’m so sorry if any of you read all of this. And if you did, you a real one, and please message me bc I am so lonely and I could use someone that can relate to even a FRACTION of what I’m dealing with. Please.

And how fucked is it that my current regular doctor couldn’t even prescribe me server anxiety meds for the two weeks from then to my actual psych appointment a week away? And I had to go to the streets and buy Xanax just so I could fucking sleep dude like. This is backwards. And I’ve had such an issue with Xanax in the past but it is the only thing that calms me down when I start seeing red bc my anxiety makes me turn emotions into rage. It’s so exhausting.

#personal #me

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spacereadinglesbian · 5 years

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Dear TJ

Summary: Cyrus writes TJ a letter while he’s in the hospital for a suicide attempt.

Trigger warnings ⚠️ Metion of suicide attempt (nothing heavy)

Word count: 1806

Dear TJ,

While you’re reading this your head is probably laying down on a rough hospital pillow and your body is covered by the fuzzy blankets I brought to you three days ago. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing you a letter instead of a phone call, well the answers simple. The hospital monitors phone calls and this is more personable. I don’t really know how start this, that might be why I’m rambling on, I don’t want to say the wrong thing, well write the wrong thing.

Do you remember when we were 14, and going into our freshmen year of high school? We were treading on the line of friends and more than friends. God, I never thought that I would actually being dating THE Theodore James Kippen. Do you remember that night when I was sleeping over at your house and you said “let’s sneak out.” I was so nervous, but at the same time I wanted to impress you. You packed a blanket and an extra hoodie in your bag and we climbed out the window, we headed to the beach. We held hands the whole 37 minute walk there, the only time we let go was when you talked with your hands. I hated it when you talked with your hands that night because I missed the feel of your soft skin on mine. We talked about everything and nothing all in one. I told you about my schedule that the school sent me and you told me about that book you just read. I was still in shock that you were a huge ass nerd. When we finally got to the beach we laid out the blanket you packed and sat on the sand. I laid my head down on your chest and both our hearts were beating abnormally fast. I’ll never forget the cheesiest words that you ever said to me “my heart only beats like this for you.” I knew at the moment that I was falling in love. I decided to take a leap faith and start leaning in to kiss you but, you had the same idea. This wasn’t our first kiss and it sure wasn’t going to be our last but it was special. It said everything we were scared to say and more. We stayed like that, exchanging kisses with the stars in the sky for a while, I felt safe, damn I never felt that safe before. When we pulled apart your eyes were sparkling and your smile was even more gorgeous than the night sky. You took my hand and said “Cy, let’s go skinny dipping.” I thought you were crazy. The only thing going through my mind was “I’m going to get hypothermia and die” but I was drunk on love and decided to go anyway. It was 1’ o’clock in the morning and we were running into the ocean, we were the only two people in the world at that moment. I wanted to stay in that one moment forever. Once we got out of the ocean we put out clothes back on and cuddled under the blanket. You whispered in my ear “Cyrus Joshua Goodman, I’m falling in love with you. Please don’t break my heart.” My reply is still the same today “I don’t plan on it.”

I guess I’m just going down memory lane because all I can think about right now is our freshmen homecoming dance. Do you remember how you asked me? You pulled a Troy Bolton and got the whole basketball team together. Every single player had a tshirt with a different letter and colour on it representing a rainbow, in spelt out “HOMECOMING?” I jumped into your arms with an excited yes.

That Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. We were so excited. You told me the seniors on the basketball team said “Kippen, you don’t wear tuxes, you wear dress pants and a dress shirt. Got it?” We went out and both bought black dress pants, you bought a grey button down with a yellow tie, I got a yellow button down with a grey tie. Your mom wouldn’t stop taking pictures of us. At one point you yelled “MOM! I KNOW WE’RE THE CUTEST COUPLE AT GRANT BUT YOU GOTTA TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH.” I kinda wish you took your own advice because you went haywire when we didn’t win homecoming court. When Melissa Jacobs and Josiah Grant won, you yelled “THIS IS HOMOPHOBIA!” Then we left. We went to Denny’s and shared the all you can eat pancakes and bottomless coffee. We were there until 12 am. I think that was one of my favourite nights.

Christmas vacation our sophomore year. We’ve been together for a little over a year and I wanted this to be absolutely perfect for you. You told me that your Christmas will be perfect if you had me by your side. I went shopping for weeks having no clue what to get you until I saw it. It was a key chain that said “drive safe, I need you home. Love Cyrus.” I also got you a sugar cookie candle with our picture on it. We begged your mom for weeks to let me spend the night, and on the 22nd and she actually let me. We spent that whole night in a blanket fort watching Christmas movies (even though I’m Jewish) and stealing kisses. You snuck down to the basement and stole a bottle of wine out of your moms wine cabinet. We knew we could get caught but we didn’t care. We finished the whole bottle and by the end we were a laughing mess, I can’t believe we didn’t wake your parents. That night I fell asleep with my head on your chest and your arm around my body, the next morning I woke up with a hangover. I wouldn’t trade it for a thing.

The summer going into our junior year of high school was magical. We went camping and hiking, we stayed up to see the sun rise. We picked flowers in flower fields and you taught me how to surf. I never thought I could fall more in love with you than I already was, but that summer proved me wrong.

I’ll never forget that night when there was a knock on my window at 1:37 am. I got out of my bed wearing your oversized gym shorts and that’s when I saw you. You were wearing your glasses but, your eyes were still puffy from crying. I slowly tried to help you get into my bedroom, once you hit the floor the tears started rolling out of you. We sat there on the floor for what felt like centuries. You laid your head on my lap while I played with your hair and whispered calming things into your ear. Once your tears subsided I asked what was going on. Your answer was “I have no clue.” We spent the rest of the night cuddled in my bed watching re-runs of friends and eating cookie dough ice cream. The next day you went to the doctors and got on antidepressants.

The few months following your doctors appointment were rough, but babe we got through them, and we learned to love each other even more.

Then last week happened. You texted me and told me that you were staying home from school because “you weren’t feeling it” I understood. I went through the whole day knowing I was going to surprise you at home after school, but then I got a text message. The text said “I love you.” I knew I shouldn’t be worried about it, but I was. I left the school as soon as I read it and hurried to your house. It was only a 5 minute drive. The door was locked but luckily I knew where the spare key was kept, it was under the flower pot. I stepped into your yellow house calling out your name. I got no response. I went into your room and that’s where I saw you. I was so thankful, I thought you were just taking a nap so I thought I’d join you. That’s when I got closer and realised that was all a fantasy. You had pill bottles littering your floor. Your anti-depressant, sleeping pills, and some of your moms prescribed pain killers. I froze at the moment, I had no clue how bad it was. I called 9-1-1 and that’s when the words suicide attempt exited my mouth. The ambulance came fast, and I called your mom, she said she’d meet us at the hospital. The ambulance wouldn’t let me drive with them, I followed them in my car. I waited in the waiting room for 6 hours, on edge, we didn’t know if you were alive. The doctors finally came out and told us we could see you. When I saw you, tears fell out of both of our eyes. The only words coming out of your mouth was the repetition of “I’m sorry.” I said it then, and dammit I’ll say it again, TJ you have nothing to be sorry about. That night I spent the night in your hospital room, the next morning you were being transported to a hospital for teenagers with mental health issues. Your nurse told me that I shouldn’t see you everyday. It might make your recovery harder, and you need to find the strength to wake up in the morning. If you think I haven’t seen you in three days because I fell out of love with you, it’s the exact opposite. I haven’t seen you because I love you. I need you to get better Teej. The amount of times I’ve been in that parking lot a drove away is crazy, I’m hoping they don’t have security cameras because they probably think I’m stalking a patient. I need you to know that I love you.

Theodore, I know these few months are going to be rough, but you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m going to be here for you through your highs and lows, ups and downs. I’ll be there when you can’t sleep or when you feel like you can’t wake up. You are worth more than the stars in the sky, and I can’t imagine a life without you. You’re strong and brave and beautiful and miraculous. You’re going to get through this. And I’m going to love you through it all.

I’ll see you tomorrow with some sweatshirts, sweatpants, pens and notebooks, I might even bring a coffee if they allow it. Then I won’t see you until you get out.

Theodore James Kippen, I am so utterly in love with you. Hold on for me please.

Love always,

Cyrus

#andi mack #buffy driscoll #cyrus goodman #disney #tj kippen #tj x cyrus #mental health #tyrus fanfic #tyrus andi mack #tyrus #ambi #jonah beck #andi x amber #amber #andi mack fanfic

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thesickpanda · 5 years

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Medical Gaslighting

As I scroll through my Tumblr feed, I come across innumerable stories from fellow spoonies who have experienced mistreatment, neglect, abuse and disbelief from the medical institution. I recoil in both horror and in painful empathy as I read the stories, because they are all too familiar and terrible.

It's hard to understate how exhausting and upsetting it is to be questioned on your chronic illness, to be lectured by doctors who know nothing about what you’re going through or even the latest research on your particular condition. It's horrible to suffer something so disabling and debilitating, only to be told that you're not disabled enough to qualify for concessions, finance or support. It's bad enough that friends and family often don't believe us or make accommodations, but it is a truly desperate feeling when the very people who took an oath to help you and do no harm actively dismiss, deride or bully you.

I'd like to list my own examples of what I term “medical gaslighting”, both as a personal record and as a contribution to those stories.

Example One:

It is my first year living in Australia. I moved to this country already suffering from debilitating pain. I had previously been diagnosed with Myofascial Pain Syndrome in the UK; however, even the rheumatologist said it did not account for all my symptoms. The pain had grown a great deal worse, and it had started spreading to other parts of my body. I went to go and see my partner's family doctor. I explained how badly my back ached, that I had a two year history of this pain and that I really want to get to the bottom of it and find some relief. His response? "Everybody gets back pain. Take painkillers and just deal with it." I came away from the appointment stunned and disappointed. This was not the first time I have felt as if my condition was not being treated seriously; however, it was the bluntest delivery of this sentiment. Little did I know this was an experience I was going to have repeatedly…

Example Two:

I have been on the waiting list for a public pain clinic for many months. In order to have access to the pain psychologist and physiotherapist, I need to have an assessment by the resident pain clinician. This man is a dinosaur. He looks to be in his 80s. His thinking is about that old, too. He tells me I need to go on anti-depressants. I tell him that I have been on SSRIs before and that I have always had severe side-effects and that they have never made any difference to my pain. I also tell him that I am not suffering from depression. Yes, the pain is wearing me down but I know what depression feels like and I don't currently have it. He tells me that if I want to go on the pain course and have any hope and improving, I absolutely must do what he says. When I try to express my concerns, he bullies and emotionally blackmails me to accept. I don't want to miss out on the rest of the program, especially as I feel desperate and don't know what else to do, so I begrudgingly start taking the antidepressants. And so begins a four-year horror fest of dreadful side-effects, appalling and long-lasting withdrawal symptoms, and of course no pain relief. To say that I hate this man is an understatement. Not only did his “advise” me down the wrong path, he made an already uncomfortable experience so much worse (and with NO warning of the side/withdrawal effects, either…).

Example Three:

I ask the pain psychologist whether or not he thinks severe childhood trauma and PTSD could contribute to my chronic pain. He dismisses the notion out of hand. Turns out, there's plenty of research to suggest this and that it is not a ridiculous notion by any stretch. I knew this, because I had been reading some of the latest peer-reviewed journals on the subject. But as I soon learned, the so-called experts were not keeping abreast of the research. They were, on average 15 years behind it. Not like I would know anything about my own illness!

Example Four:

At a different stage in my life, I do wind up depressed, but that is because I have just lost a close family member, my relationship is breaking down, and the pain has reached agonising levels. I wind up in hospital after an attempted suicide with a knife. I am put in a room and made to wait seven hours before anyone see me. The only person who comes in is a nurse who tells me that I'm not a priority because “there are real sick people” who need real attention from doctors. The room is full of sharp objects.

Example Five:

When I do get a name for my condition, Fibromyalgia, I soon learn that not everybody believes Fibromyalgia is a real illness in and of its own right. My GP in particular likes to tell me it is a diagnosis of exclusion. Now, I understand that many things need to be excluded before one can arrive at the conclusion that it is Fibromyalgia; however, when she says it she puts it in that dustbin of "medically unexplained symptoms" because Fibromyalgia is just a word for that in her books. Meaning, she doesn't recognise it as its own disease and therefore doesn't know anything more about it. There is a lot of research coming out at the moment that indicates Fibromyalgia might be immune based, among other things. It is also being recognised in some parts of the world as its own disease. It is beyond frustrating to be told that I am just one of those people that have aches and pains that aren't really based on anything and therefore don't warrant much support or understanding. This is a recurring problem with my GP and other doctors. I have heard it called “the fakers disease” and have been told by perfect strangers that it's all in my head and that if I just had a positive attitude I could get over it. I know that this is a universal experience faced by all people with chronic illnesses, but getting it from your doctor is particularly hurtful and frustrating.

Example Six:

The disability employment agency that I go to tells me that I'm too ill to put into paid work because I will not make for a reliable worker. The government tells me I'm not disabled enough to qualify for any financial support. All of the burden falls to my partner who, lucky for me, is a great guy. However, the tens of thousands of dollars we spend every year on medical bills mean that we will never have enough for a deposit for our own home, nor can we easily afford appliances, holidays, events or even gifts for family at Xmas. Literally all his disposable income goes on medical expenses. We have very few savings to speak and rent in one most expensive parts of the world. When my partner asks my GP for a carer’s card to give him small concessions on life's little luxuries, like going to the movies, he is told that because I am not in a wheelchair and a paraplegic, I do not qualify and neither does he. We are constantly being told that I am not disabled enough to qualify for anything: not government support, not concessions -zilch. The only thing that we have received from the Roads and Traffic Authority has been a disabled sticker for the car. And thank Christ for that!

Example Seven:

When I tell the exercise physiologist that I am seeing that I don't think it's a good idea for me to do the types of exercises he's giving me in 40° heat (back then we live in a rough area and the local gym has no air-conditioning) he tells me it's fine and I should do what I'm told. He shows me some exercises to do and then rushes off to see one of his five other customers he’s treating at same time in the same hour. I go into a full spasm because guess what? Extreme heat and exercise do not go together. Even the Bureau of Meteorology tells people not to do strenuous activities on 40° days. But my exercise physiologist, who again seems to know nothing about Fibromyalgia, thinks this is just peachy. Twice I go into flare with this man. One day, he is on leave and his immediate boss comes in to take me for my sessions. His boss watches all the exercises that I have been doing for six month. He tells me I'm doing them all wrong. I tell him that this is how his colleague taught me to do them. He again tells me they're all wrong. I terminate their “services” (read: scam). Exercise physiology is not covered by medical insurance so I have literally spent thousands of dollars on a program that has put me into spasms and done little to nothing to help me with my pain.

Example Eight:

I see a number of different psychologists over the years; often this is not by choice as we either move away or they do. I have seen good psychologists and very bad ones. On more than one occasion, psychologists asked me if I “identify with my illness”. I know this trick question. When I go to them to ask for help on how to deal with the psychological ramifications of coping with a debilitating, continuously worsening and disabling illness, something I am not permitted to speak about with friends and family lest they dismiss me/tell me I’m being depressing, I am told that I identify too strongly with my illness. It seems like you are literally not allowed to complain or express dismay about being sick and sore every waking second of your life to anyone. It should not, apparently, be taking any psychological toll on you and if it is it's because you have decided that it must. I have been told this by both able-bodied and disabled psychologists. Ableism is not exclusive to the able-bodied. Disability is a spectrum: people with chronic illnesses of different sorts face different struggles. I feel as if no place is safe. I give up on therapy and start reading self-care books and following these Tumblrs because I get more validation and assistance from the Internet that I have ever had from a real-life human being getting f-ing paid to counsel me.

These are just some of countless stories I could tell. Having to fight to be believed every day, from the second you get out of your car in a disabled park and have people challenge you, to trying to explain why, to your friends, you needs to take the lift and not the stairs, to begging your doctor or the government for basic concessions, to sobbing over bills that mount up because of all the mobility aids, medicines and treatments you've been taking… This is exhausting beyond description. And after years and years and years of it, you begin to feel a bit hopeless.

So to all my fellow spoonies posting on these Tumblrs: thank you. I am always sad to read the terrible experiences you go through, but it does give me some sense of connectedness and unity when I know that there are others fighting just like I am fighting. I appreciate the advice that is shared in this space and the posts of validation and comfort that we just don't receive from the people in our lives. Thank goodness for this community. I don't know how I would have coped at all, if not for you.

Feel free to share your own stories of medical gaslighting with me. Sometimes it helps to vent.

#gaslighting #medical gaslighting #chronic illness #spoonie #that spoonie feel #Fibromyalgia #myofascial pain syndrome #chronic pain #ableism

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stormtrips · 5 years

Text

- therapy #1 -

This place is a lot less... clean, for lack of a better word, than the pictures they put online. The building this therapist is in seems newer, but the waiting room is dingy, latticed aluminum ceiling holding up popcorn gray panels and yellowing fixtures for fluorescent lights. There’s a rack in the corner holding worn children’s books and a tired-looking wooden train set abandoned behind a set of threadbare office chairs.

There’s also no receptionist behind the front desk, just a window with a sign that says, in both English and Spanish, “PLEASE WAIT FOR ASSISTANCE.” The lights aren’t on back there, but there are forms and a sign-in sheet waiting for you on the ledge.

This is stupid. You scratch your name and the time, take the loose leaf papers, and get started.

Yeah, yeah, basic demographic information. Insurance—well, technically you’re still on your dad’s, but he doesn’t even live in this country anymore, and fuck if you can remember the information. Family history? You don’t know anything about this. Personal medical stuff? The only time you’ve been in the hospital was for rehab. They want to know what medications you’re on, too, which is awkward, because you don’t know the name or the dose of what Fucker gave you, you just know it’s not working.

Underneath those basics are questionnaires, Becks something or other. All of these questions are stupid. You score a 31 on the first one (kind of depressing) and a 22 on the second (not so bad, really). After circling all the numbers and x-ing all the boxes, you don’t really have anything else.

So you wait.

Click the pen a little bit in your hand, twirl it around your fingers. Your dexterity got thrown off a little bit again by last weekend’s events, but you’ll get it back eventually, right? You jiggle your leg, crack your neck. One of the lights is humming obnoxiously. There’s a fly trapped under one of the busted metal quarter-inch blinds. With this much time, you let your eyes trace out patterns in how the dirty linoleum peels up from the floor at the seams.

You’re almost nodding off when the door to the office opens. “Oh!” a female voice says softly, keys jangling. “Are you early, or am I late?”

“Are you Alex?”

“Yes, hello!” She’s already looking in her phone. She might be a few years older than you if you had to guess, brown-skinned with long black hair, wearing floaty clothes in neutral colors with long gold earrings. Damn it. You had been hoping for a dude—and that tiny expectation takes you by surprise. You make a mental note of it for later. “Oh, I was late, I’m so sorry. Please, follow me.”

You stand up—had your feet really fallen asleep?—and get ushered into a tiny side room, only just wide enough to fit a full-length overstuffed couch with too many tasseled throw pillows. When you take a seat, it wheezes. The corduroy feels crumbly under your fingertips.

Alex shuts the door behind her, blocking out the dead, clinical light of the waiting room. It’s much darker in here, only lit by a nightstand lamp with maybe a fake candle bulb in it. Alex sits down in a large armchair, her bag landing heavy on the floor when she drops it and starts looking for something. “You’re a new client, right?”

“Yeah. I filled out all this paperwork.” You offer her the stack.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” She apparently had been looking for a pen and a clipboard, because your papers get neatly pinned and she starts taking notes immediately. “So, John, how did you find out about us?”

You shrug. “I did a Google search. This was the only place that had an appointment this fast.”

“Oh, that’s because I had cleared my schedule for Good Friday.” Shit, you’re so out of it that you forgot it was a holiday weekend. “I’m glad you came in. Now, what brought you in to see us?”

You freeze.

You were expecting this question, yeah, got dogged by it for four hours last night while you were unable to sleep and worrying about Dolch. That doesn’t mean you have a good answer for it. You’re pretty sure you filled out a thing online for this place (or maybe it was for one of the ten other places you tried to get ASAP appointments). Why can’t she look on there? Whatever. You pick the simplest answer first. “I went to rehab and they said I needed to keep doing therapy when I got out, so I thought I would start.”

Alex’s pen stops. “Rehab? For a... drug addiction?”

“Alcohol.” Dead and clipped off.

“Oh, right.” Like it wasn’t as serious as Percocet or heroin. “Well, we don’t really do addiction counseling here—or alcoholism counseling, whatever—but I can see what else I can do to help you today. Maybe get you a referral. How does that sound?”

Something in that guarded, hopeful part of you deflates, an already-drooping Mylar GET WELL SOON balloon destroyed by a dart. “Fine.”

“Oh, you didn’t fill out this section of the form.” She tilts the clipboard towards you and gestures to it with her pen.

“That’s because I don’t know.”

“Don’t know your family medical history?”

“Not really.” Is it that surprising? “We didn’t really talk about that stuff a whole lot.”

“Ah, right, gotcha.” She sounds like she got a bunch of insight about you out of that last sentence. “Did you bring your medications with you?”

“Just the one.” You were careful to bring this in your jeans pocket, so no one would have to see you manipulating your sylladex to get to the goods. The pills you got from Fucker look pathetic in this little snack baggie, but it’s all you had. “I lost the bottle, sorry, I forget what this is.”

Alex peers at it under the low light, then draws back into her own space. “Looks like a low dose of sertraline.”

“What now?”

“Generic Prozac.” Oh, wow. Fucker really put you on an antidepressant. Like that’s supposed to help with whatever has your brain this rustled. “Just a baby dose,” she says, like that’s supposed to make you feel any better. “How long have you been taking it?”

“Just since Sunday.”

“Any side effects?”

“Not much of anything, really.”

She clicks her tongue. “That’s too bad.” What the hell does that mean? She flips over to another piece of paper in your makeshift chart, tapping her pen down the page until she turns to the next one. “Thirty-one, yes, same number. Oh, dear, that’s not good.”

“What does that mean?”

“That’s in the range for severe depression, Jonathan.” Ugh. You hate it when people try to get cute with your name. “And the anxiety inventory, this is in the moderate anxiety range. Good thing you got an appointment!”

“Yeah, no kidding.” There’s no mirth in your voice, yet no sarcasm, either. No one told you therapy would be this boring.

“Well,” And Alex jingles her wrist to shake her bracelets away from her watch, “that might be all the time we have for an initial appointment like this. I’m sorry we can’t take you on long term, but if you’d like, I can send on your name to another practice. Oh, and, credit card, please.”

She plugs a chip reader into her phone port as you fork over the plastic. You feel a little nonplussed. You’re pretty sure you scheduled for an hour, and you’ve been here for much longer, but you could have sworn this whole thing in this room only took a few minutes. “I guess,” is all you really have to say.

Alex is focused on her phone again, then smiles as the app resolves the transaction. “Great!” she says, far too chipper. “Well, check your portal, and by the end of next week, you should have a message from us about next steps.”

“End of next week?” Full offense, but you’ve already been waiting long enough for an appointment when you’re in so much emotional pain it literally feels like it’s cracking your sternum in two.

“Yeah, all referrals take at least 72 hours and it’s a holiday weekend. Thanks for your time!” She’s already standing, opening the door to usher you out.

Good. You don’t want to be here any longer. “Thanks,” you tell her, an automatic politeness, but as you leave the office and take the elevator down to the building lobby, all you feel is confused. And kind of laughing at yourself for how seriously you took it. If it’s all going to be bullshit, at least you know what to expect for next time.

#x narrative #x plot #// therapy #// alcoholism #// addiction

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hamilton-one-shots · 6 years

Text

Hamilton High School AU 6

(TW: Eating disorder)

“I’m on antidepressants.”

“... Okay?”

“Like.. Pills. I’m supposed to take them everyday.”

“That’s it?”

Alexander nodded, confused by his lack of a reaction. “You don’t care?..”

John shook his head. “Of course not. It’s nothing to be ashamed of and it isn’t your fault.”

He smiled and sighed, almost exasperated. “I really did meet my perfect guy, didn’t I? You’re the only one that hasn’t looked at me like some kicked puppy when I told you that.”

“Because you’re not. My only question is... Do you take them?..”

Alexander frowned and looked down at his feet. “I mean... Sometimes, but... I don’t like them..”

“Alex.. It’s not about whether or not you like them.. You’re supposed to take them..”

“I know..” He sighed and left the room, coming back a minute later with a prescription bottle and some water. He opened the bottle and popped out a capsule, looking at John until he nodded, then whimering a bit and swallowing the pill, chasing it down with water and holding John’s hand tightly.

“It’s okay. You know your parents would never make you take pills if it wasn’t good for you.”

“I know..” He frowned and hugged John tightly, burying his face in his chest. He may have only met him the day before, but he was so cuddly and warm...

John wrapped his arms around Alexander and held him close, giving him the support that he clearly needed. “Do you want to go to an art gallery with me tomorrow? It’s semi formal.”

Alexander nodded. “I want to see what you do on a larger scale. I don’t know if I have any fitting clothes..”

“I’ll take you shopping then.”

Alexander sat up. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”

John shook his head. “It’s no problem. A button up shirt and a tie don’t cost that much. And you can wear some dark jeans.”

“But.. But...”

“No buts. I promise, it’s fine by me.” He smiled and Alexander felt completely reassured.

“... Okay.. Can you sleep over tonight?.. Like in here?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Alexander smiled and let him go as George called them down for dinner, not questioning why John was there since he came around so often. When they got there, Martha was putting plates at everyone’s spot at the table, Laf helping her with the kitten in his hoodie pocket since Hercules had already left. Alexander squeezed John’s hand one more time before letting go and sitting down, picking at the food with his fork.

John didn’t notice at first since he was quite the opposite, thanking Martha and George for the food before digging in. It wasn’t until Lafayette said something that he looked up.

“Alexander, aren’t you going to eat?..”

“I’m not hungry..” he muttered. “Can I be excused?”

George sighed, showing that this was a common occurrence, and shook his head. “Come on, Alex. At least eat a little bit.”

He whined, put picked up his fork and started at the vegetables, eating a few pieces before pushing his plate away. “I’m going upstairs..” He got up and left.

John frowned and looked at Lafayette, furrowing his eyebrows as if asking if that happened often.

Lafayette nodded and looked back down at his plate, telling John that this happened often.

After eating, John went upstairs and found which one was Alexander’s room, the one with his name on the door, and knocked. “Alex? It’s me, John.”

“Come in.”

John opened the door and went to Alexander’s bed, sitting beside him as he laid down and read a book.

“What is it?”

“You don’t eat?..”

“I don’t like to.. I know I should, but I can’t. It feels gross.”

John frowned. It was only then that he realized how sunken his stomach looked, especially laying down. He wasn’t starving, but he did look too thin to be healthy. “That isn’t good..”

“Whatever..” He turned on his side, away from John.

“Sorry.. I didn’t mean to offend you..” He leaned down and kissed his cheek, then got up to leave.

“Wait.” Alexander sat up. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry. I promise I’m not starving myself or anything. I just.. I don’t like eating... That’s it,” he stated, his tone final.

“Okay. I’m not mad or anything. I was just worried for a second.” John smiled reassuringly and left, going to his guest room and getting ready for bed before falling asleep.

The next morning, John woke up and went downstairs to see Alexander... cooking? The same guy who was struggling to eat a few bites the night before. John smiled.

“Good morning.”

Alexander turned and smiled at him. “Good morning..” He turned back to the stove. “Just sit down. I’m almost done.”

John got a mug of coffee before sitting down at the table and waiting.

George was already downstairs, but Alexander must’ve told him something because he was sitting with his coffee mug and a bowl of oatmeal in the living room. Or, maybe, he just knew.

A few minutes later, Alexander put two plates of bacon and eggs at the table and sat beside John. His plate had dramatically less food, but it was more than he’d eaten the night before, so that had to be good.

John immediately dug in, as usual. “This is pretty good.” He smiled thankfully.

“No problem. You’ve just been so nice to me... I wanted to do this for you.” He hesitated, then leaned up and kissed John’s cheek.

John smiled and cleared his plate, but Alexander had only made it just over halfway through his own.

“I can’t finish this.. I’m full..” he told John, frowning. It was more than the night before, but it was still so little...

John smiled softly. “It’s fine. Do you want me to finish it for you?”

Alexander nodded and pushed the plate towards him, finishing his coffee and waiting for John to finish. “So.. Herc and Laf wanted to hang out at Herc’s place later tonight. I was thinking that maybe we could go after the art gallery?..”

That was new. It was no secret that Alexander never hung out with his brother, considering that John definitely would’ve noticed by then if he had. Social interaction could be good for Alexander, so John nodded. “That sounds great.”

Alexander smiled. “Great.”

John smiled back and finished Alexander’s breakfast, then went upstairs and took a shower.

Alexander did the same after him and met him in his room, finding him feeding the terrapins.

“I called us an Uber. It should get here soon.”

Alexander just blinked. He didn’t even say anything. “How did you...?”

John turned around and shrugged. “I have four younger siblings. I’m perceptive. Are you ready?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I already told Laf we’d be going.”

“Great. Can’t have our mom friend worrying,” he chuckled before walking out of the room and downstairs, Alexander following him out once the Uber got there. He held his hand in the car and stayed silent while John made small talk with the driver.

When they got to the mall, John paid and got out, holding Alexander’s hand and leading him out.

“I’ll pay on the way to the gallery.”

John shook his head. “No way. My art gallery, my treat. Besides, I pay for it every time. It’s no problem.”

Alexander kept whining all the way to the store, but John just blocked it out and walked him to the mall, taking him to a shop and looking through the button up shirts until he found a color that would look nice on him.

“Here we go. You look good in baby blue. All we need now is a black tie," John smiled.

Alexander looked at the shirt and nodded, finally going quiet . He finally realized that John was not going to be so easily swayed. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"Great! We can hang out around here for the rest of the day, if you're up for it."

Alexander nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

Back at home, Lafayette was sitting with his kitten, petting her down her back. "Rosie.. That's it." He smiled. "I'll name you Rosie." He pulled out his phone and opened Snapchat, knowing that Hercules would like to know. He took a picture of his sweet kitten and sent it to Hercules with the caption [I've decided on a name! She will be named Rosie!]

He received a response a few minutes later, a picture of Hercules in his parents' tailor shop. [That's perfect! It definitely fits her!] His next picture was of him rolling his eyes. [Sorry if I don't text much today. I'm on shop duty and I've got an appointment with the devil himself.]

Lafayette furrowed his eyebrows, sending Hercules a confused picture of himself. [Who do you mean?]

Hercules rolled his eyes in the picture again. [Who else? Thomas Jefferson.]

#hamilton #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #john laurens #lafayette #hercules mulligan #lams #mullette #george washington #george washingdad #martha washington #6 #chapter 6

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thatblondeperson · 6 years

Text

So I've been debating whether or not to go into explicit detail or not, but I just figured I'll start typing and see where it goes. As a start, I am ON my medication, I am getting an appointment to get the dosage increased on my antidepressants, I'm taking care of myself as best I can. But I'm very depressed.

I live in a very constant very heavy cloud of sadness and intense mental and emotional pain. I don't text or message or call anyone because I am a shut in. I basically sit in my room now and don't interact with a lot of people. I've lost friends this way, and sometimes it hurts, but it's worse when it doesn't hurt. I SHOULD care about that. I am amazed that there are people on Tumblr I've known since 2012 who I hardly talk to who still seem to care about me. I am amazed when people show me affection because I don't feel I deserve any sort of recognition.

I constantly believe that people don't actually like me. When I am in a room with my friends I am constantly under the assumption that I am someone waiting to be replaced. I am drifting away from everyone, I don't feel like I belong anywhere. I am broken, I am lonely, and I often stare off into space at parties because I am thinking of all the ways the party would be better without me there.

I find myself boring and annoying. People find me annoying. I talk too much and I have no real skills or talents or aspirations worth talking a lot about. I am insufferable to be around. I get too loud and editable and I interrupt people. If you think I do this unknowingly I do not. I know when I'm doing it and I hate myself deeply for it because I cannot make myself stop.

I am financially struggling right now and I know I need to look for a career, but with how unmotivated I am in my own life it's difficult. It's hard to leave my job as well because I am good at it and in that way it feels safe and comfortable. My customers like me...It's hard to leave a place where I feel wanted and appreciated when I don't even extend that same sentiment to myself. I know making more money would help a bit...get me out of my house more, calm my anxiety. For now I'm stuck at home a lot which doesn't help.

I am very mentally sick. I cannot hold relationships, I worry that I am meant to be alone forever, and all I really do is work and sleep. I do not leave time for anyone else ever because I don't even leave time for myself.

I don't know what I want...I don't think reassurance will help. I am extremely mentally broken. My pills are working but there is far to much pressing at a condition that I've had my entire life. I am much worse without them, I guarantee you.

I guess part of why I'm posting this is because I feel lately as though I've been losing friends. People seem to like me less and less as time goes on. I don't have a real excuse for my behavior in driving you away, but I'm not sure many of you would want to stick around me anyway. I don't want anyone to think I don't like them...I love all my friends. I'm just extremely depressed and antisocial and I'm not sure if I'm getting worse or not. I need a lot of professional help I think, but I don't know if I can commit to that.

Just idk...don't assume the worst of me, but don't assume the best right now either. All I can tell you for certain is that I am not suicidal. But that doesn't mean I am not in danger of becoming a full on shut in and cutting off ties with literally everyone I know.

If you read this far, thanks...I'm bottling up a lot right now. I'm in so much pain and I can't make it stop. I may look happy but please believe that I feel like I am rotting/decaying on the inside. I have simply gotten very good at smiling through a pain I have become very familiar with, and some days I ignore it better than others.

#had this on facebook #putting it here too #ive dropped out of contact with many people this year and its not on purpose #personal

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condensed-theorem-shop · 7 years

Note

please please expand on your list of Things Which Have Actually Worked, your ask box ghost wants to hear about this

I have the best ask box ghost and I’m sorry to have gone so long without responding to this; I wanted to wait till I was in a place where I could give it the thought and attention it deserves.

(Original post here. I totally encourage other people to share their lists of Things Which Have Actually Worked; that seems like the sort of valuable information which is really useful to have available.)

(Cut for length, and various mental illness stuff.)

drugs. drugs are awesome. I am talking about antidepressants here, okay. do drugs, kids, as long as your doctor prescribed them to you

Not everyone has access to medication, I know; and I know that my ask box ghost in particular doesn’t. But I do want to include my strong endorsement here for people who can manage it. It doesn’t help everyone, but it helped me a lot.

I was terrified of the idea of taking antidepressants. I didn’t want to change the way my brain worked. I didn’t find any of the counterarguments I saw convincing. But eventually I got to a point where I thought, if this is what life is, I don’t want to go on living. (I remember sitting on my bed and staring at a blank wall and thinking that exact thing.) And that’s when I decided that I was at least going to try medication.

My parents could probably have been talked around but I didn’t want to try, because it would have sucked if I was wrong. So I waited until I turned eighteen, and I did my research online, and about a week after my birthday I biked over to the campus mental health center and paid the $5 fee in cash so it wouldn’t show up on the online billing system where my parents would see it and when I was alone in a room with a nurse I said I want to die most of the time and I want to stop feeling that way.

And I got set up with a therapist and I kept paying the fees in cash and eventually I had her formal recommendation that I go on antidepressants, and I went to my parents with that and they said “okay” and drove me to an appointment with my doctor and he prescribed me antidepressants and I called them into the pharmacy and picked them up.

I remember standing at my desk looking at the first pill and a glass of water and thinking well, it can’t get worse, and then swallowing it.

It wasn’t a magic cure. There was a lot of therapy, and I had to get my dose readjusted a couple of times, and I’m still not, like, fixed. But I am so much better. And the meds helped a lot.

ceasing to assign agency to myself

So this one sounds super weird, but it worked really well for me.

Basically, I have a tendency to notice something I’m doing wrong – like, putting off homework till the night before it’s due – and going “aha! I will solve this with WILLPOWER!” (Okay, I don’t usually think that explicitly, but it is basically my default mode of problem-solving.)

To no one’s surprise, this does not work so great.

On the other hand, if I notice my little sisters are doing something frustrating – like, the teenager bursting into tears and announcing everyone hates her – I don’t think “I will tell them not to do that thing and they will exert WILLPOWER! to stop.” I think “she does this every night right before bed; this is just a thing she does when she’s tired. I can solve this by getting her to go to sleep.”

In fact, under that set of circumstances, I don’t really think of my sisters as having free will, not while I’m trying to solve the problem. I think of them as little machines, where you put in one thing and get a predictable output. If I put in “stop overreacting,” I will get out “SEE? YOU HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. ONLY THE CAT LOVES ME.” If I put in “No, silly, I love you. Why don’t you go to bed now, though, you’ve had a long day,” I will get “Oh yes good idea I love you too” and her going to sleep and being totally sane in the morning.

This method works great.

So eventually it occurred to me to start using the latter method on myself. Instead of saying “I keep doing X! I’m a terrible person! I need to stop doing X!” I say “OK, empirically, under Y circumstances I do X. I guess if I want to avoid doing X, I should avoid Y circumstances.”

This is really hard for me. I have a constant temptation to go “well, it’s OK, I’ll let Y circumstances happen, I’ll just exert WILLPOWER! and not do X.” But this inevitably leads to me in fact doing X.

To give a concrete example: suppose I notice that if I do my homework in the living room, I always seem to end up chatting with my family. But all things being equal, I like being in the living room.

Mode-1 thinking has me go “well, I could go work in my bedroom, but that would be dumb, I like the living room better, and there’s no reason not to be there, I just need to not chat with my family instead of working.” So I go sit in the living room, and surprise, I end up chatting with my family.

Mode-2 thinking has me go “if I go sit in the living room, I will chat with my family. That is just What I Do, the same way that bursting into tears randomly when it’s past 8 PM is What My Sister Does. Given that fact, I shall go sit in my room.” So I do that, and I get my work done.

This also helps with guilt stuff. It doesn’t make sense to get upset at my sister for yelling at me about how mean I am at 10 PM; it would be like getting upset at a book when you drop it on your foot. If you let go of a book, it falls; if my sister is awake late, she gets irrationally upset. And in exactly the same way, it doesn’t make sense to feel guilty that I spent the afternoon chatting instead of working. That’s just what happens when I sit in the living room.

instead of changing myself, changing the world to be convenient to me

This is related to the previous in some ways, but it’s also its own thing.

Part of it is a way of thinking. It’s replacing “I’m bad and should change” with “I deserve to have things that are convenient for me.” It’s replacing “I’m a failure” with “how shall I set myself up to succeed?” It’s about being gentle enough with myself that I can go “you know what, there’s a $2 solution to this thing that’s making me miserable; I am worth $2.”

I used to be really bad about flossing. I found dealing with floss to be a total pain, I hated trying to wind it around my fingers right, hated trying to get it between my teeth, it was just enough of a nuisance for me to never do it.

I knew that using flossers, like the ones they have for little kids, solved all the things that bugged me about flossing. But, like, there was no reason I needed them, right? I should just floss my teeth.

Eventually, I stopped telling myself to just floss my teeth, and bought a pack of flossers. Now I floss regularly.

(This works really well with the “empirically, given X, I will Y” from the previous point. Empirically, given flossers, I will floss. Empirically, otherwise, I won’t.)

I have done a lot of this sort of thing, and it has improved my life hugely. I kept trying to “be good about” putting dirty laundry in the hamper I share with my sisters. Then I just got a second hamper and put it in the spot in my room where I kept dropping my clothes. Now I have no problem putting laundry there. Same thing with a trash can, and now I don’t drop Kleenex on the floor. Instead of struggling to remember whether I took my meds, I got special lids with built-in timers that keep track of it for me. Instead of trying to be less grumpy about people knocking on my door when I’m busy, I made a sign with a little arrow I can set to “free,” “busy,” or “out.”

The key thing, for me, is (a) noticing when I start thinking that I need to “work on” or “be good about” something, and thinking instead “is there a way I can just make that easy,” and (b) reminding myself that it’s okay, I can just have things be convenient and nice, it’s not some kind of moral failing.

the narrative of “I am an adult and get to do exactly what I want. If what I want is [unproductive thing], I will do that, and that’s okay. If what I want is [productive thing], I will do that, and that’s okay too.”

Obviously, this works a lot better if you are in fact an adult and can do exactly what you want. But I think there’s some applicability in any case.

The first thing I figured this out for was food. Instead of thinking “oh, I shouldn’t have another piece of cake, that would be Bad,” I think “I can have another piece of cake if I want to. I’m an adult; no one can stop me. So I shall have it exactly if I please to.”

And then I think about whether I in fact please to: it would be tasty, but how much do I expect to enjoy it, how much better do I expect to feel physically if I skip it or have some vegetables instead, which of those would I prefer. And this really is just a matter of I prefer; there’s no right or wrong answer. If I would, on balance, prefer to eat the cake, I eat the cake. If not, I don’t; and it usually doesn’t even feel like an expenditure of willpower, because I don’t want to eat the cake. If I wanted to, I would.

It turns out, this way of thinking generalizes to a lot of things.

Am I going to do my homework, or read a novel? By default, I’d think of homework as Good, and novel as Bad, and then I’d maybe start coming up with reasons I deserve the novel, like, it’s my birthday, or I had a really tough day, or I’ve been so good this week, or whatever. And I could probably come up with something if I tried hard enough, and so I’d read the novel, and then in retrospect the reason would be dumb and I’d feel guilty.

With this narrative, I think: what do I want to do? I want to get this homework done so it stops stressing me. I want to read this novel and relax. I want to learn this math so I can go to grad school. I want to find out what happens next to these characters. I think about all that stuff, and how much I really want those things, and how happy the novel will make me at this particular moment, and what the consequences will be if I don’t do the homework right now. And then I pick one.

Sometimes I pick the homework, and that’s great. Sometimes I pick the novel, and that’s great too. There is nothing morally wrong about picking the novel over homework. It may have consequences, I may get a B on the homework, but I am an adult and I can deal with those consequences. It’s okay to pick a novel and a B on a homework, if that’s what I want. I have the right to do that. It’s good to do that, if that is really the thing I want.

And, again, this ends up feeling like less of an exertion of willpower, even if I get more homework done this way. Because anything I do is something I’m choosing to do because it is my considered preference to do it.

And on the other side, I enjoy my novel-reading more, because I don’t feel guilty about it, and because the times that I choose the novel are the times when I’m in a mood such that I predict I’m going to really really enjoy reading that novel. And I’m usually right about that.

Now, obviously, if you have parental authority in your life, I am an adult and can do as I please doesn’t exactly apply. But you are still your own person, and while it will be really great when things are such that no one can stop you from reading a novel whenever you please, it’s still the case that no one can actually make you do homework. You just have to acknowledge that “parents get judgey” is a potential consequence of some choices you make. (Which sucks, again, and it will be great when you have the ability to say “respect my choices or I will spend time with people who do and you won’t get to meet the grandkids if any such ever occur.”)

triage procedures

AKA “don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.”

To go with another food example: since going on a medication that interferes with my appetite, I have trouble eating enough. If I’m in a depressive spell, it’s easy to slip into just not eating at all.

As a result, I have the following triage ordering, from highest to lowest priority:

1. Drink water2. Eat something3. Eat something with calories4. Eat enough calories5. Eat healthy food6. Eat healthy, cheap food

If I’m having trouble eating, I’ll figure out where I currently am on the list, and then start doing the next thing along. If I’ve been eating but only cucumber slices, time to eat something with calories. If I haven’t been doing anything, I need to at least drink some water.

The key thing here is that, where a lot of brainstuff spirals downward, this spirals upward. If I hydrate, I’ve got more ability to eat. If I’ve eaten something, my brain remembers that food exists and will let me have something actually nutritious without feeling nauseous. Once I’m getting enough calories, I have the energy to spare to make sure I’m getting a balanced diet. And so forth.

My natural tendency is to sit on the couch thinking “I should make myself a nice healthy meal from scratch so that it’s price-effective,” and then do absolutely nothing because that sounds really hard and I’m not actually hungry. If I have an established triage procedure, though, I can go “I’m going to eat a food, I can worry about what food later,” and then give myself positive feedback once I succeed at eating a food. In the long run, this actually results in my eating nice healthy meals cooked from scratch.

This sort of triage helps me in all sorts of areas where a thing is urgent and needs to be done, but is too big to handle. Yes, it’s important, so I prioritize, and I don’t worry about the fancy touches until I’ve got the absolute essentials under control.

having a concept of Who I Choose To Be As A Person, and when it comes down to it Being That Person, all rules or obstacles or common sense aside

This is the thing that I’m most hesitant to recommend to other people. My brain is weird. This works for me. But I really don’t know that it would work for anyone else, and suspect that for some people it is actively counterproductive.

Also, it’s kind of hard to words. The best summary I think I have is an argument I had repeatedly with one therapist. Paraphrased:

Therapist: You need to put on your own oxygen mask first, take care of yourself.

Me: Sometimes, sure. But sometimes someone you love is in desperate need, and you stop worrying about your own oxygen mask and just do whatever it takes.

Therapist: And what happens when you burn out and can’t help them anymore?

Me: You keep doing it anyway.

I find this way of thinking really, really empowering. I suspect for many people it may be guilt-trippy, and I do not recommend it to anyone who feels that way about it. But for me, it is important.

Sometimes, there is something that must be done, and you look at it and say I literally cannot do that thing, and then you do it anyway. It’s important that you know which those things are, because a lot of things that look like they must be done are really things that need a triage procedure or need you to make the world more convenient or need you to decide what you really want to do. But sometimes there really are things that matter so much to you that you’re willing to light yourself on fire if that’s what it takes to keep them warm.

This doesn’t happen often. But it does happen. And for me, seeing that was important to putting all the previous tools in place. I used to worry that I was letting myself become Weak or Bad or something; it helps to be really, really sure that the things I’m compromising on are the ones I’m willing to compromise on, not the really important ones.

I’ve never regretted looking at something and saying “this is impossible. I’m going to do it anyway.” But I think a lot of that is because I am very sure about the things that are important enough to me to be worth that, and those are the things that by definition I couldn’t regret doing that for. (Have I mentioned that I don’t necessarily endorse this approach or way of thinking to anybody else?)

I can seriously only count a handful of times I have been in that place. I think it’s very easy to err on the other side and think you have to burn yourself out for things that aren’t worth it. But, for me, it is good to know that when it comes down to it, I can do what it takes, because I am an adult and I get to choose what I burn myself out for.

#mental illness #depression cw #longpost #suicide cw #food cw

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curvywonderlandx · 4 years

Text

My story isn’t over yet;

I’m nowhere near 100%, but it feels like the right time to share my story. As the last couple of months are only half of my mental health battle.

“You have no idea what someone is battling so be kind always” I’ve seen this countless times, shared it and posted it myself. But until you are the person with a smile on the outside for the world, and inside your world has fallen apart you will never truly understand it. What’s even more confusing is not knowing why your world has crumbled.

Nobody other than my Mum and my doctors know the full story. Even then, there are things that happen in my brain that only I know, but I don’t always understand them or know how to vocalise them so I keep them to myself. That’s something I am great at, keeping things to myself until I can’t hold anymore in and I burst. Into a rage, into tears and into anger and it’s probably the smallest thing that has triggered it. But deep down something has happened and I’ve pretended I am okay. I would tell myself “tomorrow will be better” or “stop thinking about it, it will go away” the worst one, the one I still tell myself daily “you have no reason to feel like this”.

From the outside it looks like I have it all, and to be honest I do. I have the most loving family, that have supported me through every single thing in my life. They have loved me and given me everything I could ever need and want. My mums boyfriend took me on as his own, I always had that father figure in my life whether it was my biological Dad, Mike or my Grandad. They made sure I never went without. I have an incredible bunch of friends! Best friends, girl groups, work friends, ex work friends, college friends, secondary and primary school friends, travel friends. All of which I know I could call on at anytime in a crisis and they would help me out. I feel safe with my many circles and always have the best of times with them. I am lucky enough to have the most loving and supportive partner I could ever wish for. This man walked into my life while I was having a breakdown, neither of us knew it yet, I think he just thought I was crazy but he loved me and continues to do so every single day. He reminds me of my worth, he makes me smile and laugh until my tummy hurts, he winds me up more than anything, but I know I’m loved and I wouldn’t change him or our relationship ever. I have a job I’ve worked so hard in, and continued to work up in. A job that allows me to travel the world so much easier than I ever thought possible. I have my beautiful little flat, my safety net. The one place in the world that sees all of my moods, and not once have I ever been scared to be here. So why on earth do I feel like I do? Like life isn’t worth living, like I can’t go on anymore?

Summer 2019, I lived my best life. Cringey as it sounds, I felt free. I’m not sure what from, but I had the best summer with the best people and lots of nights out or at the pub. This is what became my habit. Luckily, I’m not writing this as an alcoholic but that comfort of being surrounded by people for a little bit longer in the day became what would save me. Save me from going home and feeling, feeling a way I didn’t understand. I felt empty, yet I had everything? The Christmas period is always full of lots of drinks and food, and I took this to it’s full advantage. Out every weekend, nights in the week, last day of work. You name it, I made it an occasion that included being with the girls and drinking.

January is super hard, but as anyone in the travel industry knows, it’s a rough month. So I put my feelings down to that. Then February came around, it was the first anniversary of my Dad’s death, I felt sad and so I put it down to that. Only after the 5th February, I still felt sad. Incredibly sad, as if I could feel my heart hurting. As the next few weeks panned out, I quite literally lost all control of me. I didn’t know how to live. The night before my birthday I went out drinking with one of my best friends and my boyfriend. We end up back at hers and somehow my feelings come out. Flooding, quite literally with the amount of tears coming from my eyes. We talk about feelings, and how we are both a bit down and from that I realise how down I am. “I don’t want to live anymore” I tell her. And suddenly I understand my own feelings. The words that left my mouth, I was shocked at myself. I was pretending all was okay, and it had gotten so bad that I wanted to take my own life. We talked, I cried, we hugged, I cried, she told me it was time to get help, I cried. In my drunken loud state, my boyfriend had overheard me. We didn’t really talk about it, at least I don’t think we did, everything else now becomes a blur. It traumatised me so much that I finally knew how I felt and how sad I was, that I’ve blocked it out.

The next morning, I wake up with a very sore head. Not only was I extremely hungover, I had fallen into a tree the night before and cut my face and given myself a black eye. This was a waking point for me, I was so drunk I felt no pain. I thought it was funny. I guess in reality looking back, it was a sign it was time to go home. But, if I hadn’t and I didn’t get to have the conversation I had with my friend, who knows where I would be now. So not only have I got a sore head in every sense of the matter, I feel emotional and I feel like I can’t breathe. I get up, I keep telling my boyfriend I’m fine and it’s nothing to worry about, I’m hungover and I just need to get some water. I’m crying because I miss my Dad, so I go to call my Mum and this is the first time I tell her somewhat of how I’m feeling. She cheers me up, I have some water and hang up, and then it’s back. I go into my bathroom and I have a panic attack on my floor. I’ve suffered from panic attacks for years, so it’s nothing new to me. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I’m shaking, I’m crying, I can’t breathe and my head hurts. My boyfriend gets me up and makes me breakfast, I play it off again. “I just need a shower, to get dressed and go home to my family for the day, I’m fine”. I’m still in shock at the conversation I’ve had last night, I want to talk about it and get it out in the open, but as soon as it’s mentioned I pretend I’m fine and that I was drunk. “I do feel sad, but not that bad, I’ll be fine”.

The first time I actually imagined not being alive anymore and taking my own life was on my 23rd birthday. A day that should be filled with love, excitement and happiness. We traveled back to Lydney on the train, I was so exhausted from my panic attack I needed energy and sugar. My boyfriend and I go into the shop to get a drink, but it’s hot in there and I need to get back outside. I tell him I’ll wait just by the door and that “I’m fine, I can wait alone, nothings going to happen”. And then, in a moment that felt like hours, which was probably only seconds a freight train went passed and all I could think about was jumping out in front. What was happening to me? My legs felt like jelly, and I couldn’t breathe, again. This is part of my story that nobody knows. He came out of the shop, and guess what, I pretended I was fine. The rest of the day is a bit of a blur, I had a lovely evening with my family and it couldn’t have come at a much more needed time. But specific details aren’t that clear. I just kept thinking of how this might be the last time we are all in the same room together, unless it’s my funeral.

The next day, it’s my grandads birthday. I stick on one of my very practised fake smiles and don’t say much. I’m about to leave to head back home, and I decide to tell my mum I need to see a doctor. “I’m not okay, I don’t know what’s wrong me with me and I just need to speak to him” I tell her. I’ve been on antidepressants for over four years now so she knows that I need one of my one on one chats with the doctor, and that makes me feel okay again. I call and get an appointment, for the 17th March. That’s nearly a month away and all I can think of is how I’m going to keep myself alive for that long.

The next couple of days go by in a blur, I go to work and put my energy into that. And then finally it’s the weekend. The weekend I’ve been planning with the girls for months, my big birthday night out. A weekend that has now changed my life forever. The girls get to me and we head straight to the pub, we’ve been drinking since about 1pm and the day comes to a dark close about 2/3am. I have so many different groups of friends that have come to my flat, to celebrate me and my birthday and I feel so much love from them. And that was what hit me, this was the perfect time. I could have one last blow out with the people who are most important to me. Get ridiculously drunk, say my goodbyes and that would be it. It was a night of lots of events. I truly have the best friends, because so many of them knew I wasn’t okay. They kept asking but I would say my usual, “I’m fine, just drunk” I wasn’t fine. And in my head, this was it. The time had come, I couldn’t bear to have to say my goodbyes to my family, or my boyfriend. I left them notes on my phone. Notes of which I’ve deleted and have never shared with them. I didn’t even read them again myself. They were too painful. After a long night, we all decide to head home. I get emotional and suddenly I’m sobbing. I’m saying goodbye to people and they have no idea. I want to scream for help, tell them to not leave me tonight, I’m going to hurt myself and I’m scared. Instead, I tell them “I’m fine, just very drunk and I need to go to bed. I’ll get help, I know my depression is bad again but I’ll sort it. I have it planned, see you all soon. I love you”. One of my clearest memories of that night is closing the door, and feeling like I’ve closed the door on life. In that moment, I may as well have already been dead.

The next part is not something I wish to talk about in detail, but I’m sure you can imagine. I made sure everyone had picked up their things, my two friends that were staying were cosy in their beds and I locked myself away in my bathroom.

I didn’t succeed. In that moment, I panicked. I was in pain and blacking out but I didn’t want to die. I couldn’t scream for help because I didn’t have it in me. I saved myself. Cried, threw up, cried and put myself to bed in a big jumper that covered up to my eyes. I couldn’t admit to anyone what had just happened. The damage I had done to my body was nothing compared to how I had just scarred my mind.

The next day I played the hangover card. My best friend was with me, and she had no idea what had happened. She won’t have any idea unless she reads this. But she saved me. I couldn’t take my life with people in my home. So I would do it another time. But that day, she loved me and she didn’t even realise she was doing it. I woke up to a spotless flat from the party, she kept letting me sleep and then we went for breakfast. She then took me home to my Mum, if she hadn’t have done this I don’t believe I’d be here writing this.

I get home to my mum, she knows somethings wrong and asks if I’ve fallen out with my boyfriend, she thinks that’s why I’ve come home. I’m sure after our next conversation she wished that’s why I had come home. I told her how I felt, what happened, what I did. Not in so many words, she had to guess. I couldn’t say it out loud, I felt sick to my stomach. She called my step Dad, and he was with us within minutes. They both sat either side of the sofa with me, their arms around me while I sobbed. I didn’t know who I was anymore, I couldn’t understand why this was happening to me.

I went to work the next day, how I got there, sort of made it through and got back to Lydney I couldn’t tell you. Working with such an incredible team helps, being a manager is hard at the best of times. But working with an understandable bunch of wildcats makes it that bit easier. I hadn’t even got to my flat, let alone to work when my mum called. “I’ve got you into the doctors tomorrow morning, come back home to me tonight. I’m getting you help”. Relief and panic filled my body. I was quite certain once I admitted to how I felt, I would be locked up and they would throw away the key.

Mum quite literally had to drag me to the doctors, I wouldn’t get out of bed and I was definitely not getting dressed to go and tell a stranger how I felt. I had a panic attack in the car park outside, and as if by fate, my grandad was there. If my grandparents ever read this, I don’t know what I’ll say to them. They don’t know the full extent, and that’s because I didn’t want them to worry. I didn’t want anyone to worry, but I wanted to be safe in my own company and telling my Mum was the first step to this. My grandad gave me a hug, and told me it would be alright. I didn’t know it then, but as always, he was right.

I sat in this doctors office, who I had never met before and I couldn’t even look at her. Had a complete breakdown in front of her. Had my antidepressant dose doubled, given a crisis teams number for if I felt like I was going to hurt myself again, a number for a counselling team, told to go for a walk everyday and signed off of work for a month.

I walked out and just thought “what now?” Dread filled me about having to call my boss. “Oh hi, just to let you know I won’t be in for the next month. I’m depressed and attempted to take my own life. Nothing is physically wrong with me though, bye.” I should have known the call would never have gone like that, but my brain didn’t work at this time. At all. All it wanted to do was sleep, pretend the world had gone to sleep, and then wake up when everything was better. I kept saying to my mum, “how can a manager take a month off, just like that? I’m not physically ill, I can’t just not go in.” The thought of just leaving my team to deal with everything in my absence made me feel worse. Then I spoke to my boss, who could not have been more understanding if I wanted him to be. He was incredible with me, told me not to worry and to not think about work and focus on me. That’s what I needed, someone to take the pressure off. My life in Cheltenham had been put on pause and I was staying with my Mum in Lydney until I felt it safe enough to be on my own. I still didn’t tell anyone the full story, looking back I hate that I didn’t tell my boyfriend. All he wanted to do was help, but I kept up the “I’m fine” persona and carried on. He knew I wasn’t “fine” nobody gets signed off from work for a month because they are fine. My sick note just said the word depression and I was sticking with that. No extra details, I was getting better. Let’s focus on that.

The next few weeks are a time where I have never felt such love. Nobody left me on my own, my friends took it in turns to come and spend the evening with me. I did puzzles, colouring, went out walking. Easy tasks that didn’t take too much effort, but enough to keep me level headed. Of course I had wobbles, I would wake up in the middle of the night and think “it’s time again, for real now” and then I’d roll over and see my boyfriend, the man that didn’t leave my side and I knew I couldn’t leave him. He spent every moment he could with me when he wasn’t working, and he didn’t even know the full story. My Mum was asleep in the other room, although she probably wasn’t as she was just as scared about what I would do next as me.

Taking work stress out of the mix, I started to feel better. But then I worried about having to go through the same process when I got back to my flat. The place I hadn’t spent the night at since I had decided I didn’t want to live anymore. Would I go straight back to where I was when I got back? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t ready to find out.

I went to stay with a friend for a night the week before I went to New York. This was another thing I was worrying about, the plane, all of the people, being able to stay awake for more than a few hours to actually see anything. I got to my friends house and we went on a long dog walk, this was the first time I told my story to someone else. She cried, I cried, the dog carried on running in the fields but I had done it. I’d packed a bag, got all the way there on my own and was out in the beautiful fields, starting to feel again. She asked me if I would try it again, and at that time, I said “yes, I think so, probably.” We went out for some lovely food, got some snacks and watched a Disney film. She will never know how much this night changed my perspective. It was the first night in weeks, maybe months I had slept all the way through the night and woke up refreshed. I went for a coffee with some work friends that morning, it was the first time I had been back to Cheltenham in a long time. I was meeting two people who I class as some of my closest friends, they know everything and I mean everything there is to know about me. One of them is the girl who I originally told, the night before my birthday about how I no longer wanted to live. And the other, the person who as I was saying goodbye to on the night out, I knew I was saying goodbye to for the last time. Or so I thought. I had a sudden feeling of panic, I wasn’t well enough to see them, what would I say, how guilty would I feel when they got up to go to work and work extra hard as I wasn’t there. “Don’t be stupid, you can do this. They love you.” I told myself. And they did, of course they did. Oh how nice it was to have a normal conversation, over a hot chocolate and catch up on all of the gossip.

The friend I had spent the night with text me to see how I was doing and to make sure I got home okay. I had to be honest with her, “you’ve given me a reason to live. I want to be here to see your little babba, to watch you walk down the aisle” and it really was the first time I could see a future. How could I miss out on such important events? Things we have talked about since we met. No matter what it took, I was going to meet this baby and I was getting to be at that wedding.

Every week since my first appointment, I had to go back to the doctors to see how I was getting on. She told me it would be good for me to go to New York. The trip I had been planning for my Mum for a year, the trip of our dreams. I couldn’t think of anything worse. But everyone else thought it was good for me, so I listened. If I hated it I knew how good I was at my “I’m fine” face. New York gave me another reason to live again, travel runs in my blood. The city of dreams, had given me so many dreams. I want to go back, see more, experience more, meet more locals, try more food, cycle more of Central Park. I want more. For travel, for life, for me.

This was over two months ago, but since I’ve been back there’s not a lot to report on. I spent the first week at home with my Mum, came back to Cheltenham as I felt it was time to fall in love with my home again, and then the UK went into lockdown. Obviously for all of the right reasons, but I had no choice in being back here. Pacing the hallway I pace when I don’t know what to do, sleeping in the bed that I didn’t find comfortable anymore. I didn’t know it as home anymore, but as soon as I was back, I was okay. It was my home, full of my belongings, full of photos that bring me such joy and happiness, photos of family and friends. Memories. My flat is always the go to for parties, so there are so many hilarious memories I have here. So many more good than bad, and thankfully they outweigh them and I feel safe here.

When I think back to these times now, it’s like writing about someone else. And that’s how I know that I am getting better. I’m not 100% and I don’t know if I ever will be, but I’m not that girl anymore. Or at least I’m trying not to be. I’m being a lot more open with my feelings. Writing this has helped with that, because I’m not very good at telling people a full story because I don’t want to be a burden. Being in lockdown alone gives you plenty of time to think. I’m not at a point of my life yet where this isn’t at the forefront of my mind, but I believe one day it will be a memory. I have so much to live for. So many plans. I dream of being a Mummy one day, having someone depend on me like I depend on my Mum. I’d love to be a wife, live in a happy home that’s full of love. I still want to get out and see the world, visit friends in different countries. Do things that take me out of my comfort zone. I want to love and be loved. Make spontaneous plans and do something crazy. Ultimately I’ve realised that all I wanted was for the world to stop for a minute, give me a chance to get off and catch my breath and to carry on breathing and living. I didn’t want to die, I don’t want to die. I want to live, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do x

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