#last bit of October became a bit of hassle here so I was unable to finish the other prompts 😖

[uragirinoteme]

MXTXTober'22/ XianTober'22 Week 4 🥰💕

Didn't finished XianTober but at least I finished MXTXTober 😅

~Commission Info~

[nny11writes]

Declarations, Mental Health, and Other Things You Never Asked Me to Explain About Myself but I’m Gonna Anyways

Ok, it's been almost a year since my last update on this and I wanted to explain myself a bit? And also share my story a bit??? 

This is all personal stuff so no need to read if you can’t handle it right now or don’t want to handle it. You’re not obligated to, but I felt it was important to share all this.

Here’s hoping the “Keep Reading” link works!

cw: anxiety, depression, mental health, suicidal ideation, nightmares

SO. Last year I had been working in a hostile working environment under an abusive supervisor for 2 years. One of the things I had done a right before I got that job (and was unemployed, depressed, and heavily suicidal) was I picked up writing fanfiction again. I had been in about a two or three year dry spell where I was writing fanfiction but never posting. Just writing it for me. And then I'd unceremoniously dropped all after posting a Mass Effect fic that had great response/reviews. Because the pressure was too much for me.

I found SW: TCW while unemployed and desperately seeking something to help lift my spirits and distract me from my known but untreated mental health. I wanted VERY desperately to find something enjoyable in life again. I was literally only alive because I was afraid of where my cat would be placed when I died. I kept seeing interesting meta posts from MyLordShesaCactus and AlexKablob about someone called Barriss Offee and someone called Ahsoka Tano. Deciding that I had literally nothing to lose I gave the show a watch.

It was a lifeline. During a time where I regularly had nightmares of being a robot that was torn apart and decommissioned, or dreams where I'd barely nick myself and suddenly start bleeding out, SW TCW became an obsession. I was years too late to the fandom but I still found active people and love for this girl who was a little Too Much and a little Too Pushy and a little Too Scared to Fail. Ahsoka hits all my bingo slots for characters I project heavily onto. And soon enough my nightmares, while still consistent, were no longer a given. Sometimes I dreamed about star wars instead. The first time I had a dream where I WAS Ahsoka Tano I woke up and cried because I'd felt so good.

Then I got hired in what I thought was a life affirming and saving way, and instead was shoved into a different kind of hell. I became so depressed that first year that I self harmed by starving myself and denying myself sleep. Which, of course, makes it worse. I started writing "Twilight" as a way to cope with my increasing intrusive thoughts about suicide and physical self harm. Then it became a way to deal with intrusive thoughts about wanting to harm others. I needed an outlet and was denying that I need medication to manage my mental health.

I didn’t expect anyone to read it and like it. I thought people would hate it. Because it was awful because I’m awful, and therefore nothing I did could be good.

But people did like it. A lot.

Then I was escorted to Psychiatric Emergency Services because I wanted to kill myself on the job. The whole episode is a little weird in my mind, time warped a bit and I remember crying nonstop and being unable to stop shouting, but when I look back what I remember most is feeling completely calm. Calm and soft and light. I think that was due to me finally verbalizing my thoughts and seeing that others did care. That I wasn’t some worthless pest to them. When I got to PES enough time passed that I got my panic attack under control, and when a psychiatrist finally saw me I downplayed the whole incident out of fear I was going to be institutionalized. I was scared as fuck in my little temp room in my little plastic chair staring at my hospital band and desperately hoping that none of the other people there would talk to me. So when I saw professionals I lied. I got a doctor’s note to stay out of work for two days and went home.

I finally had to admit to myself that I was not doing well. I was not handling my anxiety or depression. I was not ok and that it was ok to not be ok.

I was still scared to get professional help.

Instead, I spent that November participating in NaNoWriMo, where I wrote what would later become the first several chapters of “The Apprenticeship”. The first installment to the Close But No Cigar AU. I decided that I wanted and needed to write something that was happier. Ahsoka Tano made me happy and I wanted to do something good, anything good (for once in my fucking life). And convinced that I’d never done a good thing and never could, I decided to do a good thing first for a fictional character. So in I went to a story where Ahsoka Tano was an anxious wreck of a person, but had support and help and love. Into a world where Anakin Skywalker got the sort of help he needed. A place where they could all still meet and be friends and be family. Not somewhere with no pain, but somewhere softer.

The next month I finally got a PCP, and at the ass crack of 2017 I finally got medicated again.

I had already posted the first chapter of The Apprenticeship and energized by the meds and the reviews I got hard to work on finishing that story.

Funny thing about medicine, it’s a hassle and often the first thing you take is a unique struggle that requires adjustment. My first medication seemed great! For about two weeks! Then I developed a hand tremor so serious I couldn’t feed myself. That night I seriously struggled to not drive my car into the oncoming traffic lane and avoided all bridges on my way home from work. What I took helped my depressive symptoms but made my anxiety worse. The hand tremor was also a serious and rare side effect. The next day I was off that medicine and on a new one along with gabapentin to help the tremors.

Writing was difficult as fuck with my fingers shaking and twitching on the keyboard but I needed it as much as my medicine.

The new stuff worked out much better for me, we tweaked the dosage and I’m still on it. I’m glad to be on it!

Let’s do a little time skip shall we? That summer, a year after my experience at PES, I started writing Declarations. I wanted to see more Ahsoka & Obi-Wan content. They seemed like two people who should be close friends, have more of a father-daughter relationship, and general be together more than they were on screen. I found the idea of two Temple raised Jedi, who seem to break a bit from the mold and thinking of the Order, exploring their feelings for one another to be fascinating. I quickly realized that it would work really well to show that they are both mentally ill as well. I don’t like the term “mental illness” but it is accurate so I use it.

So I seeded it in from the start. I wanted to have two good people with anxiety and depression and PTSD and who knows what else find each other and help each other out! I wanted Ahsoka and Obi-Wan to be happy damn it!

So I started writing the story I wanted to see.

And unwittingly did what I had already been doing, pouring my own personal self into the story.

I’m not saying that putting some of yourself into your writing is bad, it really isn’t! Writing can be an amazing tool to explore your own experiences and sort your own feelings. I had been using it for over a year at that point to help cope with my own awful experiences, many of which I was still having to live with and through.

What happened for me is that I put a little too much of myself into this story. At the same time I was doing that my supervisor had gotten even stranger and in some ways worse. I didn’t have daily dread of being fired but I still had daily dread over who I would find when I arrived. My supervisor came in two flavors: Angry and Blaming, or Sweet and Frivolous. I still can’t decide if she was really just that abusive or if she also could use a helping hand in the mental health department. I really can’t. She did abuse me verbally and emotionally at work, she did gaslight me, she did scare me. I’m not saying that she wasn’t an abuser at all but I just don’t know if she was that way because she needs help too.

I hope she gets help if she needs it. But I’ll be grateful if I never have to see her again in my life.

Back to Declarations.

I put too much in and it had great reviews and lots of love, and I got very nervous and defensive over it. Too defensive and nervous over it. I really want to shout out to White_Ithiliel again, because she really helped me make this fic A LOT BETTER. Like, A LOT. Y’all don’t even realize what she has saved you from!! In the process she also has had to deal with my wild anxiety issues and defensiveness.

Seriously, thank you for everything you’ve done for this fic and your endless patience with me!

The latest chapter I wrote in the spring of 2018, we started going back and forth with edits in the summer, and then I panicked over a good question and point she made. She wrote back and I very nervously peeked at her cropped response (the “show less” version) sometime around October 2018. My abusive supervisor had left but I had been asked to work with/under another lady who wasn’t not my supervisor. She was almost equally bad in another direction for me. My anxiety spiked and my depression got terrible again around the time we were working on this chapter. I saw literally half a sentence and read it weirdly, panicked, had a good cry, and closed the document.

I literally haven’t been in the head space to look at it since then.

My best friend moved in with me that fall, but he’d just had a suicide attempt a few month before. My own mental health, as I mentioned, was plummeting. This past winter my depression got out of hand. I stopped going to my band practices, I nearly stopped writing, I was exhausted. The only reason I didn’t go back to eating poorly and treating myself like shit was because he was there, and just having someone be physically there who I knew cared about me made a huge difference. If I had popcorn for dinner too often, he’d make us a frozen pizza. If I drank too much (and I abused alcohol this past winter for sure), he was there to help me with the hangover and violent sickness. Thank god for my best friend! My suicidal ideation went up but I didn’t become suicidal. This was the first winter in almost a decade where I haven’t wanted to seriously kill myself at some point. I had flashes of it, moments where the bottom of the world dropped out but they lasted for minutes or hours instead of weeks and months.

I talk to him a lot about my fics and fandoms, and he very patiently listens and helps me work through it all. He lets me read him what I’ve written or what I’m reading if I think it’s funny, and we talked a lot about this chapter of Declarations and my reaction to a sincere question regarding its content and characterizations. He offered to look at the chapter with me and see what my editor/beta’s response had actually been versus what I was afraid it was.

I turned him down in November for that because I realized I needed space and time away from this particular fic. This story where I made myself into Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and Anakin, which I could no longer separate the fictional world I had created from the emotions I was feeling about my “real life”.

White_Ithiliel, I am so SO sorry I never responded. I know my silence was probably anxiety inducing too. I want to say again that you didn’t do anything wrong or rude or mean to me. I just wasn’t mentally in a place to be doing what I was doing, and needed to turn myself off and on again.

Today, after having a full week of writing and nearly daily updating fics I enjoy I realized that my life has changed since winter.

I am at a new job with wonderful people that I really enjoy. It pays better so I’m also less stressed about money. My benefits finally kick in today and I plan on getting me a therapist soon along with a new PCP. I’m doing alright. I’m doing better than I have in years.

A huge part of that is thanks to having people PM me here on tumblr and being so genuinely enthusiastic about the stories that I write. So here’s to you all for helping me through my funk over the years, giving me ideas, and giving me a damn good laugh! dontcallmebugaboo

thirdbroomstick

woeful-woods

bobkitten

Gabby(Kirasoka)

And of course ithiliel-the-french-tolkiendil (AKA White_Ithiliel)

Y’all have been life savers, maybe even more so than I realized until I decided to write this whole crazy thing out!

Thanks to all of you, even those who just leave me a kudos or a like, I’ve been trucking along. Fandom has literally saved my life multiple times, and probably will again.

So today, feeling high on my new found writing powers, I finally went in and finished editing for the latest chapter of Declarations! Hell yeah me! :D

That said! I’m putting it on a formal hiatus!

I have the next chapter written (not edited) and several chapter ideas throw out on the page, but I also think I still need more time away from this story. I want to finish Declarations (y’all don’t understand how BADLY I WANT TO FINISH IT), but I also know that right now, where we are, we are literally on SEASON ONE, EPISODE 2.

Legit the next chapter takes place after the malevolence (AKA Episode 2 of season 1).

And we are currently over 32k in.

This is gonna be a long ass haul fic everybody. I didn’t expect it to be, I didn’t mean it to be, I wasn’t planning on it. I meant for it to be maybe 10 chapters and be super vague about the timeline.

But I think I’m just as much in love with this story as a lot of you are and dang it I want more! That means I have to write more, and that means I need to give myself space to actually be approaching it as a story.

And not as something I wish was happening in my life.

To anyone still reading, thank you, this thing was long than some of the stories I’ve written! But I wanted to share this. Yes, to explain why Declarations is currently in carbonite. But more importantly to talk about mental health.

Mental health fucking sucks my dudes. It’s hard and it’s messy and sometimes it comes out of nowhere and then leaves after eating your favorite snacks and cold clocking you at 3 AM.

I’ve been on a hell of a journey.

And a lot of you are too.

I’m not “tumblr famous” and I don’t think I’m any sort of well known fandom writer. But There’s enough of you out there that I wanted to post this in case you need to know that you’re not alone out there.

If any of you EVER need to talk, please shoot me a message! I’m legit down to talk about my fics, about your fics, about meta, theories, characters, what ifs, AU’s, etc. I’m ALSO legit down to talk about mental health and all the messy things that come with that. If you want to chat with someone about your fears, your ideation, your intrusive thoughts, HIT ME UP!

You’ve all been here for me, even though you didn’t know it.

I’d like to return that favor. So anytime, anyplace, please hit me up. I promise, nothing you’ve done is unacceptable or beyond the line. 

After all, in case you’d like a breakdown of the way I had a breakdown this last year, in the span of 10 hours I literally: 

Accidentally self inserted myself into a fic and didn’t realize it until asked about why characters were acting that way, got angry over someone not knowing what I didn’t even know especially when it wasn’t explicit, then immediately felt like the Worst Person ever for getting mad and anxious, went home and cried ugly sobs on my cat, debated if I deserved to live before immediately deciding that DUH OF COURSE I DO, but that I was just a sad sack and everyone knew it, ate one single can of vienna sausage directly out of the can for dinner, washed it down with waaaay too much box wine, cried again about fictional characters because I had “ruined” them, asked my best friend (drunkenly mind you) if I was a good person because I thought I was secretly the worst and a manipulator b/c I self inserted myself into my own fanfiction, and then spent the next 6 months or so anxiously opening and closing my google doc in fear of What I Might Learn About Myself or worse the discovery that I Had Been A Bad Person b/c I stated my thought process out clearly but obviously that’s just “mean” to do because I am a bad and can’t not do mean or something! 

Like...I get why I did it but fucks sake me. It took a lot of broken logic to get there. Looking back I don’t know how I did that actually. This is a self call out. I am @ing myself.

So, yeah.

Not sure how to end this. So...uh, feel free to talk to me if you want to!

[lilacdarkcircles]

something personal

about a month ago i found out something terrifying. i noticed i was gaining weight fast and my body was taking tolls left and right. i was in the stall at forever 21 when i decided a walmart trip was needed. i bought what i needed and ran to the bathroom. i took the most life changing test of my life. i was pregnant. naturally being 18 and not even in a full year relationship with my boyfriend, my best friends’ immediate reaction was “don’t worry you can just get an abortion”. i’m sure in their mind it wasn’t too big of a deal. it’s something with a solution and that was that.

i went to my boyfriends house that night. i told him in person and cried in his arms. he’s 20 years old and we both agreed we never wanted kids. but when i looked at him he was smiling. i felt a blanket of relief. we told a close friend of ours and she agreed to take me to the hospital the following day to confirm. she asked me what i wanted to do with it and told me “its okay” when i said i truly didn’t know.

the pricked my finger and made me pee in a cup. in pennsylvania you cant outright say “im pregnant test me” at your local hospital so i complained about typical symptoms of pregnancy. they tested me for all sorts of things that (thankfully) came back negative. the only positive test was that i was for sure pregant.

next came the questions and appointments. i was on birth control that i started about late october. i didnt take the placebos so i hadn’t had a withdrawal bleed (its what your “period” is while on birthcontrol) so honestly there was no telling how far along i was. i was scared and with so much going on i decided it would be best not to keep it. i scheduled an appointment at planned parenthood for the following friday. i was sure i was at least 6 weeks but i doubted i was any further than 13. unfortunately, pennsylvania law requires you watch an educational video about the abortion process, including risks and alternatives like adoption. i was worried it would be conservative propaganda telling me i’m killing my baby and i’m the worst person alive. thankfully that wasn’t the case but the anxiety leading up to it was terrible. the day of my appointment was the worst. it felt more and more real and while i’ve spent my whole life being pro choice and recognizing the difference between a baby and a clump of cells i still felt guilty. i got my finger pricked, peed in a cup, and finally the invasive ultrasound. they shoved the prong up me with little warning. it hurt like hell and gave me triggers to my r*pe as a child. the woman doing my ultrasound was cold and sounded annoyed as she continued. after 10 minutes of reading the screen, without even glancing at me, she said “you’re 17 weeks so we’ll get you a referal to a different clinc. you’re finished here.” i couldn’t breathe. i cried and gasped for air and i was scared and confused. the refunded me most of my money and sent me on my way. protesters shoved their pamphlets in my face as i left the building. i got to the car and called my boyfriend. we spent the rest of the day at the zoo and the local cat shelter. my boyfriend and our friend tried their hardest to comfort me and make sure i was doing okay.

i called a scheduled my appointment at the new clinic. it would be the following friday and since i was so far along the price went from $530 to a whopping $1400. abortion services aren’t covered by insurance in pennsylvania and theres very little funding. i felt trapped and it felt like a sign. it was another obstacle i had to face for a baby i secretly wanted to keep. i told my two best friends about my feelings on the subject and they both simply said “you cant keep a baby youre too young”. i felt crushed and unsupported, even if they were right. my boyfriend held me as i cried and told me every chance he could get that it was my choice and he would support me no matter what.

a few days before my appointment i got a call from the new clinic. my anesthesiologist couldn’t make it in on my scheduled date and they couldn’t find a replacement. i felt myself snap. i was showing at this point and my body was breaking. i could feel the baby moving inside me and it was starting to feel less like a clump of cells and more like a fetus. my heart was breaking and this made me wish further and further to keep it. unfortunately i had gotten drunk and smoked pot and was on birth control for 3 out of the 4 months i was pregnant so even keeping the baby had so many risks. my boyfriend and i are broke and we have a month long trip planned for out of country in august. there were so many obstacles with both deciding to keep it vs an abortion i was feeling more and more trapped. i rescheduled for a different appointment and it would now be a two day process.

the week approching my appointment was strangling me. i relapsed and cried myself to sleep. i wanted to keep it so badly but i knew i couldn’t live with myseld bringing a baby into my world that wasn’t anywhere near functional or ready. my boyfriend was incredibly supportive and held me while i cried. he promised me he would be here and happy if i decided to keep it. i spent every day at his house and he rubbed my belly and brought me water. he helped me around and gave me vitamins and medicine i needed for nausea and pain. my belly was getting bigger and i resorted to baggy tshirts to hid it from friends and family we didn’t feel comfortable telling. my boyfriend researched everything possible about the risks of abortion, the risks it could have of futher pregnancies, and the risks the baby would face if we kept it. he became a medical genius in a very short amount of time so he could offer me comfort in every paranoid thought that crossed my mind.

three days before my appointment i snapped. keeping the baby was the only thought in my mind. i begged my boyfriend to make the decision for me. i know it sounds unusual and probably wrong but i felt like my opinion was jaded. i was carrying the baby and i’m sure feeling it move made me feel more and more guilty. after hours of talking we officially decided we couldn’t keep it. we were going to try in a few years and be more prepared. we’re do everything right and watch my diet and make sure there was no trace of drugs, alcohol, or nicotine in my system. i felt my heart break a little but i knew our decision was the right one.

day one of my appointment: dilation

*trigger warning: sexual abuse description*

i arrived at the clinic at 8:45am. i spent most of the morning in and out of rooms getting my blood taken, peeing in cups, signing papers, etc. i got my second ultrasound (done normally this time, no invasive stick) and i was 19 weeks and 4 days. paying was a hassle. since they predicted i would be 20 weeks i would’ve gotten funding. my entire procedure would’ve been only $960 but i missed the 20 week mark. total came out to $1260 and unfortunately i had to borrow money from my dad’s girlfriend. after paying i was back to the waiting room. next was going to be dilation. no one had told me how exactly it would happen and what they were going to do but i didn’t think it would be terrible. they called my name and i followed them to the procedure room. i undressed and put on a gown. they laid me on a chair and put my legs up on leg rests. the doctor came in and told me he would be putting his fingers inside me. i was terrified but i was ready. he wasn’t gentle and i really wasn’t taking it well. i started crying but i tried my best not to be obnoxious. (the following im about to describe may be inaccurate because i honestly wasnt told what he was doing but i believe i figured it out by what i was feeling.) next he shoved some device inside me and started opening me so he could insert the dilators. i screamed and cried and the nurse had take my finger out of my mouth because i was so close to biting it off. next were the dilators. one by one he clamped them inside me. before each one he would say “here comes another cramp you’ll be okay” and i could feel my whole body go into shock. i screamed in a way i’ve never heard myself do before and my body took me back. flashes of the r*pe i had gone through when i was 9 flooded my head and i couldn’t take it. when he was finished the nurse walked me into the recovery room, gave me antibiotics, gingerale, pretzels, information on the next 24 hours and sent me home. the rest of the day was spent laying in bed. i had diarrhea and vomiting. i was dizzy and experiencing the worst cramps of my entire life. i didn’t think i would make it through the night.

day two of my appointment: the abortion itself

i got to the clinic. i was scared but really all i wanted was the dilators taken out. i signed the last bit of papers acknowledging the risks and the biggest question “is your decision final?”. i sat in the waiting room and they called me back. they stabbed my arm with a needle seven times unable to catch the vein. they needed to hook me up to an iv. i took some medication and sat in the recovery room for two and a half hours. the chair was uncomfortable and i had no heating pad. peeing was painful and i wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything. finally they called me back and i laid back on the table and i couldn’t stop shaking. my whole body was in shock and never felt my body move so much. i was out immediately and woke up later back in the recovery room. the diaper they put on me wasnt on all the way but i was too out of it to care. i bleed all over the chair and my gown and my lega. i cried asking where my cat and my boyfriend were and i was so exhausted i was in and out of sleep. they gave me antibiotics and gingerale and sent me home. i cried the entire ride home and crawled back into bed blood covered and crying.

this experience has no lesson. there is no beautiful outcome or something to be learned. im physically and mentally damaged from everything and guilt is weighing me down day by day. i hate being around anyone aside from my boyfriend and i want to block out the past month’s events. making the decision to abort isn’t easy and neither is the process. keeping a baby isn’t easy especially when you spent most of your pregnancy intoxicated. i don’t think i will ever truly move forward from this.