#like I don’t feel GOOD because of chronic illness bullshit

[evilwriter37]

Almost back to my baseline dose of prednisone (20 mg a day) and I haven’t had a cortisol crash from tapering down. It feels good to not have some sort of virus or infection! Woot woot!

[ruruvxz]

“10:36”

Girlfriend!Kim Minji x Cheater!Reader

ft. Marsh Danielle

↳ synopsis: L/N Y/N, named one of the sweetest girl in the planet finally rots her girlfriend’s heart. Any sane person would feel sad, maybe even a little regretful and accommodating for all their wrong doings. Not Y/N though, she's kept it in for a long time, her heart has gone bitter and cold, and she knows what she’s doing is wrong, but who can blame such a sweetly wretched heart.

↳ cw: cheating, commitment issues, morally gray reader, codependency, Minji is lovesick and blind, hurt no comfort, reader has implied chronic depression, victim blaming, swearing, pure angst

↳ word count: 4.6k

a/n: read this Karina fic where she kept cheating on me… which gave me an striking idea, mentally ill, unapologetic, rude and overall not a good person, Reader! anyways you don’t need to listen to 10:36 but I highly recommend listening to it since it’s such a great song. And yes I am personally beefing with Y/N even if I wrote them (fluff ver. apple cider)

Your eyes looming to the TV, not paying attention to whatever was playing. I mean you couldn't concentrate due to your phone blowing up, notification after notification of all your failed hookups barking at your phone like a rabid pack of dogs. God, do people know when to shut up nowadays? It was aggravating how much they pleaded for closure, and who were they to demand that from you? You're the sweet innocent Y/N L/N after all.

Before you even got to text them back some bullshit excuse your eyes darted to the front from the sudden click. You carefully examined the door pushing it open at an agonizingly slow pace, sighing as your eyes met Minji's as she slid her way inside, her eyes bagging with how deeply exhausted she was. She meets your blank stare with a meek smile, pushing down any emotions built inside of you after your recent rendezvous with another lover, you put on your best fictitious grin.

"Baby!" You cheered, getting up from the leather couch, the same one Minji gifted you when you both first moved in with one another. Quickening your pace as you ran towards her, wrapping your arms around her neck, Minji was left letting out a coy smile before kissing your cheek. Usually, she would be greeted by another empty living room with the kitchen light dimly lighting the surrounding vicinity, it was depressing but she had a 9/5 and you took the night shift. (Or that's what you would tell her.)

Needless to say, seeing your bright smile was more than pleasant, her overworked eyes lightening up as you continued to hug her. "Ah, bug, you're still here?" She smiled hugging you tighter, grasping you almost as if you were to disappear at any moment in time. As you both stand in each other's embrace your mind couldn't help but let your mind drift to someone else.

"Fuck, I wish Danielle was here with me..."

You knew how terrible it was to imagine someone else's grasp, especially since you were imagining your girlfriend's best friend of all people... And to be frank, there was no other valid explanation for feeling this way. But you felt so devoid of any strong emotion, it truly made you feel disgusted with yourself but what could you do?

Minji softly grabbed a piece of your hair to stroke before you eventually led her over to the couch to spend some quality time with her. I mean, that's the least you could do after what you went off doing while she wasn't home.

Danielle messaged you late last night wondering if she could plan an outing for the next day, and you (not-so) hesitantly agreed to her offer. It was a terrible thing to do since you've already learned about her immature crush on you, but it wouldn't lead to anything, right? Nevertheless, you still decided to get lunch together, and she brought you to your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. (Not exactly, in reality, it was something you despised because it was the only restaurant Minji would bring you time and time again. Danielle, and many others, were under the assumption it was somewhere you LOVED going to. And who could blame them, you would always post photos promoting the establishment whilst hiding out Minji from any photo.)

It was a fusion restaurant, but the overall atmosphere was an American-style family diner. The ones you'd see in 80's sitcoms that Minji begged you to watch with you, it was tacky, but they stayed engraved in your head. Danielle would drag you to the table nearest to the window to get the clearest view of the sky, but you'd much rather sit in the booth in the corner, hidden away from the world. Of course, of how accommodating Danielle was she gave in to your request, despite that hiccup the day "outing" continued as scheduled. Eating her meal she ordered claims that the burgers are "The best she's ever had since moving from Australia" but in reality, you think it's nothing special.

You ordered the same thing you usually do, carnitas tacos messily plated on a plastic dish, it usually tasted so bland though somehow sharing it with her tasted so much better than eating it with anyone else. You hated to admit it because you already had someone waiting for you at home but she made the world stop for a bit, made staying still for a moment seem so... bearable. For once in your pathetic existence you felt like you understood something and just wanted to sit down and talk.

"Mmm, Y/N—it's really good!" Danielle spoke up, parts of her burger decorated the corners of her face as she munched. Laughing at her childlike behavior you wipe the excess crumbs off her mouth, noticing her slight blush plaster across her face as you pull back to speak.

"Mhm?" You replied turned off your phone and flipped it over on the table giving her your full attention. Her voice was just too adorable to ignore. You knew you found yourself despicable for giving her more attention than you had given Minji for the past few months. But you couldn't stop yourself, it was so lonely and you just needed a warm body to hold, just until your girlfriend could come back to you.

She nodded her head hurriedly before shoving another fry into her mouth before she spoke once more. "Yup!! Look open your mouth" She'd pick up the fries and line it up up to your mouth, cautiously leaving your mouth agape before she shoved the fries into your mouth. It surprised you how fast she inserted it into your mouth you started aggressively coughing before she apologized profusely.

After your little outbreak, you start laughing uncontrollably at how concerned she looked, she whacked your head from the other side of the table while you continued to laugh. But you didn't have the heart to tell her that the fries she force-fed you tasted like generic McDonald's fries but, with that face, could you say anything? Danielle looked so captivating, an allure you hadn't felt in months, and before you knew it it was already 8:14. Minji comes back at 9 and you shouldn't risk coming home late AGAIN.

"Ah, I'm so sorry Dani, it's already so late, I need to be home at 9." You commented cutting her story off short about how she met up with a coworker of hers during some mindless shopping spree. She looked understanding but disappointed nevertheless as she was hoping she could spend more time with you even if it was in this cramped restaurant.

You looked into her eyes once more before getting up to take your leave, she looked stumped but quickly regained her composure as an idea flashed across her mind. "Okay! I'll drop you off at the train station then!" She stood up and let her hand out for you to grab. Once you stood up she interlocked your fingers together, your heart beating out of your chest as she did. What person would react like this to a friend, let alone someone who was in a relationship, but god were you one sick bastard to reason with yourself? You knew you'd done worse with others so why was this any different?

After minutes of slow walking and talking mindlessly with one another you finally arrived at the station, it was a tad disappointing but you knew it had to end soon. Climbing up the stairs your hands continued to lock in with one another, you felt her suddenly yank away. Turning back to see what happened you noticed one of her heels came off, but coincidentally your train just arrived.

"Oh Y/N go on, I'll get on the other one, it's just another 10 minutes!" She defensively said. Instead of listening to her you ran down the stairs and grabbed her heels, even if you were struggling a little bit to get back up you were happy to help her. You handed her back her heel as you heard the train plow through once more, the screeching metal tracks lingering as it drove off.

Danielle looked down at you as you handed her the heel with a worried face, she looked so bothered but you reassured her. "Even if the train leaves, it's worth it, it's worth waiting for you" You smiled before grabbing her hand once more and dragging her back up to the platform, the light-dark enough to cover her red face.

"Y/N" She laughed as she dropped her bag and hugged you tightly, her embrace was soft and loving you didn't want to leave it. (Nor do you deserve such an affectionate interaction.) You broke the hug before she led you to a, presumably empty, seating area, the sunlight dropping and sinking. While you sat there together Danielle was content sitting down with you in complete silence as it meant being by your side.

"I'm sorry for making you wait." She sighed awkwardly trying to break the silence you created, her body immediately straightened as you rested your head on her shoulder. Her breath hitched as you grabbed her warm hands, the nightfall being significantly colder.

"It's fine that we have to wait, I love you." You trailed off, your mind not proceeding with the bullshit you slurred out of your mouth. It was a force of habit, no matter if it was Danielle or Minji, those stupid strings of words haunted your every moment. (Maybe if you were a little cautious, if you learned to shut your mouth maybe you wouldn't have to be calling people at night while Minji was in deep sleep, explaining in slurred words "I have this thing where I— I can't be by myself— but look...")

The memory of what you accidentally slipped up to Danielle came back to haunt you, why would you ever say that, but regardless you couldn't break your facade now, not with Minji resting quietly on your lap. "How was your day love" You twirled her hair as she dozed off by your touch, she was so soft and delicate. It reminded you of how she'd do the same after a long day, her hands caressing your head like a dog. She was silent but that's who she was. As you ran your hand through her jet-black hair, you were all over he, losing yourself, all before she snapped you out of your daze to speak. "It was okay, but great now that you're with me." She smiled underneath you, she reached her hand above to your face to caress your mellow cheeks, and your heart ached as she did so.

"How was yours, my dear?" She lifted her head dragging you a bit down to intertwine your lips tenderly, as she pulled back and laid back down on your thighs you felt your teeth sink into your lips. It was a force of habit but thank god she hadn't noticed as her head was locked into the TV, you felt yourself about to throw up at the idea of telling her what you did. As usual, you tried to play off what happened this afternoon like nothing happened.

Your hands shook as you continued to play with her hair wondering what lies you would spit through your teeth. "Mmm, nothing much I hung out with some friends then went back home to wait for my wonderful girlfriend." You beamed smiling hopelessly to not break the persons you've created.

"Friends, who? I'd love to meet them." She chuckled, turning her head back to meet your gaze, your hands slowly lifting up and away from her head. You rested them on the armrest, coughing at the thought of her finding you were out and about with her best friends who she didn't even know you talked to.

"Just Dani! She's asked me if she wanted to get lunch with her." You answered honestly, if you hadn't you knew you'd just dig yourself a deeper hole and lead to another heated argument, where you'd end up running off to sleep the night somewhere else.

"Oh." She scoffed, the realization of her best friend and her girlfriend being closer than she'd expected hurt her feelings a little more than it originally should've.

"What's wrong with that." You bite back, annoyed about how sassy she was becoming day by day, as if you were doing something— someone, she wasn't aware of.

"It's just... didn't know you were close with her like that." She raised her body from my lap and sat properly looking me in the eye, clearly annoyed by the situation. (To be fair, as hard as you tried to be sneaky with your late-night affairs, by claiming you had a night shift, she picked up on your inconsistencies fairly quickly. How you'd leave either before she arrived or after she slept became more and more oddly suspicious. Or how you'd often slip your phone away to your back pocket whenever she came closer to you. It was all messing with her brain and the sudden "connection" you had with Danielle made her more and more suspicious.)

"I guess but isn't, Dani—Danielle one of your closest friends, yet you talk shit like this about her?" You retorted, trying to hide your offense terribly at her statement, of course, she didn't mean any harm with what she said but it felt as if she was insinuating something. Something you didn't like. You took off your gaze from hers as you rested your head on your palm and raised the volume of the TV to drown her out.

Rightfully annoyed at your reaction she raised her voice just a little bit. "Well sorry, I'm sorry I feel uncomfortable by the fact you chose to get lunch with my friend, instead of your girlfriend!" She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, her frustration was enough to cause global warming. You bite your tongue once more, you didn't want to say anything you regretted but you couldn't just let her take a jab at you without any conviction.

"I mean, she didn't do anything to you? Yet you're being so aggressive." You replied as you grabbed the remote with your free hand to skim through the channels, every new show being broadcast made you even more aggravated. How could there be nothing good showing? You mashed the next button again and again as you heard her open her mouth once more.

"That's not what I meant it's just, for the past few months you've cared about going out with me? Sorry for feeling like that's so terrible!" She scorned as you still didn't pay any attention to her, continuing to skim through the shows on air today. You pushed your tongue to the inside corner of your cheek before you asserted another retort.

"Maybe if you weren't always so defensive and angry I would hang out with you" You laugh sarcastically under your breath annoyed, and you finally landed on Law & Order. It was Minji's comfort show but you couldn't care less about what she liked right now, all you wanted her to do was pipe down and calm down. She clenched her jaw at how dismissive and disrespectful you were, the fact you weren't even looking at Minji added more salt to the wounds.

She grabbed your shoulder yanking you hard enough to look at her, you paid her one single glance before swatting her hand away from my shoulder. She looked dumbfounded, as for the first time in her life she finally raised her voice, this time with real intention to get off on you. "What the fuck— Y/N! What is up with you recently??"

Oh, she's testing you right now, your blood pressure has risen significantly and you felt it harder to focus on what they were saying in the show. Finally giving in you pushed your head to lock into her enraged state. "You know what's fucking 'up with me' it's your attitude? I can't even hang out with my friends anymore?"

Minji was most definitely fed up at this point as she stared back at you, clenching her fist, stopping her from saying something atrocious. "Oh no you DEFINITELY can, you know what you can't do? Fucking leave your girlfriend in the middle of the night saying you have a night shift and leave me alone in our bed!" She spat out as she stood up trying to get that notion into your thick skull.

"I'd rather be in someone else's embrace than be with yours! FUCK, you're so fucking suffocating!" You shouted back, quickly regretting what you said, realizing a little too late that you had released a bit more information than you were trying to let on. But before you could take it back and apologize she was already standing over you, her hands covering her mouth.

Minji’s jaw unclenched, processing every word that came out of your mouth. "What." Her voice sounded shaky, she tried her hardest to sound stern but you knew her long enough to know it was just a facade. Her face turned into someone who had just been told their loved one died, completely and utterly in disbelief.

It hurt seeing Minji so hurt, but it felt so good to get that out of your chest, she's been suffocating you for a year now, she should know where you’re coming from. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying for fairly long but after moving in with her it became harder to leave. "Fuck. It’s just—" You stopped before continuing “I wanna love you but I'm scared so I rather pretend”  You stood up and turned your body away from her, you didn't want to look at her at all. If you did, maybe you’d just run back by her side and then the cycle continues once more.

She covered her face between her palms, and looked up at the ceiling, just praying she'd wake up from this sick and twisted dream. "Y/N, please tell me. Are you?" She mumbled underneath her hands, but enough for me to tell what she said.

"Am I, what? Am I cheating on you?" You turned back at her with a disgusted face, not at her, but at yourself, you couldn’t fathom how you’d do something like this. After all, you experienced the same thing. You felt sick to your stomach but you knew she should already puzzle the answer together, yet she's still trying to ask.

"Just answer the fucking question" Her voice bubbling up with rage, after all the years of committing herself to you, you turn your back and do this? Oh how badly she wanted to make your life miserable after this. But a part of her didn't want to ask this question, she wanted, somehow, someway, you would turn a full 180 and tell her this was all some sick twisted joke.

“Fuck you Y/N… truly, fuck you— you kept me like a secret but I kept you like a fucking oath.” She spat out, grabbing out to you, the weight of your actions felt like a knife digging itself deeper into your heart. You were too cowardly to look at her, let alone answer her question. For someone so confident about cheating on her, you know stood in front of her unwilling to face the consequences.

"I—“ You cut yourself off, you did feel awful as you stared into her fiery gaze, but what was the point she already knew? "I’m so sorry.” You blurted out, it honestly came out as a statement then it did an apology, and by the looks of it, she looked even more infuriated.

"FUCK Y/N, PLEASE JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!" She screamed at you, making you jump a little, but with your broken ego, you weren’t going to take that, with crossed arms you announced your wholehearted answer.

"Yeah, I did, and it wasn’t with Danielle. Don’t worry about her…" You bitterly bit back trying to get it in through to her, you were truly so despised at this moment, but to save face you preached some half-assed excuse.

"You know Minji, it isn’t my fault— You're selfish, how do you not get it. For as long as I remember you've only ever thought about yourself." You said, leaving Minji to stand in utter anguish at the shit you were spewing. How could she be the selfish one? You bit back your tongue before realizing this was probably the only moment to let out everything you’ve built up over your whole relationship.

"I reach for you and you’re not there, I'm so fucking numb but you don't care. A part of me feels for you, but it hurts, it hurts so much." Her stare etching deeper into your mind, she didn’t bite back, but you could see through her fuming portrayal that tears were pooling from her eyes.

"enlighten me, my dear, why am I still here? Why did you even— why did you even pick me? You don't talk to me, you never want to talk about anything and you’re always just with Hanni. I know you're confused and hurt, but when I needed a warm body to hold, you were never there. And when you where you wanted too much from me— I didn’t know how I could give you everything" You inched closer to her wiping the tears off her face, she placed her hand on top of yours. Maybe this was the only emotionally intimate time you both had in months. As you rested her hand on her plush cheeks, you took a moment to appreciate her beauty one last time, she was gorgeous, undoubtedly, gorgeous.

(You couldn’t admit to yourself that this reminded you about the first time you met, your eyes locked with hers as she stumbled out of another stress-inducing meeting. She looked so out of it so you graciously offered her your apple cider, under the pretense that it was apple juice. You examined her as you were a bit surprised a young girl like her was working this late into the night, it was already 10:36. You looked back at her while stopping to laugh loudly as her eyes winced while chugging down your drink. She looked so annoyed but somewhat happy she met you, her drowsy eyes lighting up as you offered to get her an actual drink at a nearby bar. You had a bad habit of analyzing her, her hair smelt like a sweet fruit punch, and her smile was so infectious.

You remember holding her face just like this as you led her back to her apartment, she looked dazed out of her mind as you pulled her on her leather couch to rest. In a drunken state, she commented on how she liked your hair and pulled you down into her lap to play with it. You couldn’t stop your face from heating up but she didn’t happen to notice, she looked down at you and complimented the jacket you wore. So after that you always wore it, and even at this exact moment, you were wearing that stupid jacket once more.)

"I didn’t— as much as I hate you right now maybe we just got lost in translation… no— maybe I asked for too much." She weakly smiled biting back her rage while staring deeply at you.

"I've done the math there's no solution, we'll never last, I’m so sorry Minji, there’s just no universe where I can see our happy ending." Minji closed her eyes, biting her lips, maybe she already lost you, or maybe she never had you in the beginning, but all she knew this would be your last moments holding each other. Your heart constantly aching throughout the whole ordeal, as she leaned her head closer to yours your lips slowly touched, having one last passionate kiss, until you broke it up. Minji looked at you with sorrowful yet entrancing eyes as she connected your foreheads, forcing you both to lie in the moment.

"in the morning you're not in my bed, I'll just sleep until I fall dead, my love" She joked weakly as you intertwined your lips together once more before letting out a deep sigh. "I guess this is where you get your stuff and leave, Y/N" She pathetically laughed and more tears streamed down her face.

"Yeah, don't worry I'll be gone by tomorrow..." You turned away taking a breather, before taking one last look at the living room that we had built together. The walls were decorated with inside jokes and pictures you took together, you inspected every one of them, knowing she’d probably throw them out later on in life. Your eyes landed on the coffee pot she gifted you on your anniversary, she built it during her pottery lessons to surprise you, it didn’t work so well, but it was cute. You sigh as you look at the pictures all from different occasions like when you celebrated your first Christmas with her, or when she met your parents, the memories of each decoration hitting you like a train.

"Where are you going to go?" She asked trying to figure out where you’ll run off to now, you laughed for a moment, before looking back at her. Her hands balling up as she awaited your answer, you cupped her face again and smiled at her question.

"Probably crash out with my ex-roommate if she still has a spare room somewhere."

"Oh, uhm…" She laughed elegantly and hugged you tightly not wanting to let you go. "I'll drop you off wherever— whenever you need to go, just please stay with me tonight. It's only…” She trailed off looking at the clock.

“10:36,” You both say in unison.

guys count how much I referenced other songs… anyways back to writing fluff im literally started to tweak out

[sacredtime]

If the boys had a chronically ill mate:

Possibly ooc

David: the minute he’s told (or realizes) Angel is chronically ill he internally panics and frets about them and how they treat themselves and how he treats them. He knows Angel has been living with this for a long time knowingly or not, their usual laidback attitude and usual lack of thought towards how they take care of themselves makes him concerned. He’ll focus more on making sure Angel is accommodated for in the home and they can be as comfortable as possible in their house.

David makes sure Angel is also treated well in day to day life. They come home complaining of how they’re getting treated or how they have to go into the doctor and how shit the doctor was to them when they told the doctor their problems he’ll come in next time as scary dog privilege and back up bullshit detector since unfortunately they’ll listen to him better than Angel. David is also on top of any medications and the conditions and location of possible mobility aids. Angel will never run out of medication or misplace any aids they need. If any of their medications have bad side effects or reactions with Angel David’s written it down in detail along with when they started it. Anything needs maintenance or needs to be replaced? There’s already an appointment set before Angel can forget or procrastinate about setting one.

Asher: Asher doesn’t worry like David, Babe is responsible and has their shit together out of the two and they probably have a steady routine; and despite his goofball, carefree personality he’s extra attentive to Babe once he’s told and help them see the positive side of things. Yeah he might try to get out of things but he’ll become their personal runner for anything, he’ll even ask David to try and teach him how to cook again so then Babe doesn’t have to make meals when they’re not up to it or has to power through making meals because Asher can’t really be trusted in the kitchen. He’ll also move anything around to make things manageable for Babe, he’ll also carry them and any mobility aids around if need be any time they ask.

Asher isn’t as intimidating as David off of looks alone, he lacks David’s murderer face, but he is very much a people person and I think he’s able to guilt trip people very well. Someone talks down to Babe or touches their things he makes the person feel so bad the person can’t help but apologize and depending on the situation avoid the two. He’s also naturally Babe’s biggest hype man, things are getting hard for Babe and he can’t do anything? He’s there encourage them and then comfort them after. Physio? Asher’s right beside them being literal support and not backing out no matter how hard they hold onto him or how much of their weight Babe puts on him. Asher is also great with positive reinforcement, if Babe struggles to take or remember to take pills he has a timer and little treats to make it all worth it and bearable few minutes.

Milo: Sweetheart is pretty self sufficient and tries to work through hell and high water so when they crash, they crash hard. When Milo realizes they have a chronic illness he makes it his mission to alleviate their stress and pain. He knows sweetheart is a workaholic and they are set well in their ways no matter how unhealthy it is. He has pain killers, massages and a good show/movie on hand. Even if Sweetheart tries to keep going despite everything Milo will pull out the big guns: ✨Aggro✨. He’ll plop the cat on their lap and sweetheart can help but stay put for as long as possible no matter how frustrating it is to be kept from their work. Milo also makes sure that in sweetheart’s work frenzy they eat well so they don’t feel even worse. He has ice packs, heating pads, pain killers and if worst comes to worst his mother to help manage sweetheart’s conditions.

Milo also makes sure he that they keep any mobility aids in arms reach for them. It’s not that sweetheart doesn’t acknowledge that they need them, it’s just that it’s another thing they have to bring with them that they also can’t cloak the aid so they try to go for as long as possible without it. He’ll start to nag if they’re at home and refuse to use it. Milo will also get sweetheart excellent comfy formal wear for work so they don’t have to wear anything uncomfortable or if they have braces they can wear them comfortably under their clothes and are able to look fashionable. I feel like sweetheart carries enough respect naturally with their job and just the attitude they have on their own they don’t need Milo’s help when it comes to disrespectful people and doctors in the empowered world but both would bounce off each other excellently and damn near kill someone with their words alone.

Sam: in short he is stressed. When Sam finds out Darlin has a chronic illness they shrug it off as ‘not that bad’ and that ‘everyone’s bodies do this.’ that if Sam weren’t a vampire and immortal he’d have had so many years taken off his life by the stress of this revelation alone he’d probably be on his deathbed. In the early stages of their relationship Darlin has nothing but a sketchy ziploc bag of Tylenol/Advil and a brace and/or cane from like Walmart. He goes all in looking for their medical history to confirm what they have if it’s there and if they should be on medication and then takes them in to the doctors for various tests whether they think it’s serious or not. Sam is there no questions to make sure Darlin goes to their appointments and he makes sure Darlin gets answers and proper treatments, he is unbelievably persistent and determined to get their health back on track. He is the ultimate mother hen early on and focuses on getting Darlin into better habits while also keeping them safe from their own recklessness.

Sam later in the relationship is far less stressed since Darlin is considerably more stable. He keeps tabs on their medicine still and can’t help but monitor their condition just incase they try to hide it again as to try and not worry him. In the rare time that Darlin finally crashes Sam comes in with old man comfort as they sit on the couch under a blanket. He uses his lack of body heat as a human sized ice pack, putting his hands on the areas that ache the most and apply subtle pressure while murmuring affirmations of how they’re still strong and how he doesn’t see them as lesser or love them any less for times like this.

If darlin has a cane and Sam picks it up Fred and bright eyes joke that it’s his now and to not rush his weary old man body and a whole bunch of grandpa jokes.

[heliza24]

Complicated Thoughts on Daniel's Turning (or, in defense of disabled vampires)

So I have complicated feelings about Daniel’s turning. The way I feel about it changes every day. Sometimes I don’t mind it, but some days, on days like today when I’ve dealt with a bunch of other ableist bullshit out in the real world, I kind of hate it. Or at least I think I might, depending on how season 3 pans out.

One of the first reasons I fell in love with the show was its inclusion of a disabled character as the main audience surrogate. I’ve already written a lot about what good disabled representation Daniel is, and how including a sick character serves as a foil for the bodily transformation vampires experience and adds to the story. So many of the show’s themes of immortality and grief are thrown into high relief by the inclusion of Daniel as a disabled/chronically ill man.

Interview with the Vampire is a show about trauma and grief, and I found it especially exciting that the show’s refusal to pull any punches extended to addressing the pandemic. The pandemic is a huge source of loss, trauma and grief, especially for disabled people, and Hollywood’s response to that has been to memory hole it as quickly as possible. Most shows, artists and viewers find it too painful to delve back into these sore spots. But Interview with Vampire can’t do that, because the main plot of the show is about a character being “protected” from trauma by having his memories removed. This is a show that wants us to confront our grief in our pain and learn how to move through it.

So you can see how Daniel showing up as a vampire in the very last minutes of season two was a little jarring and initially upsetting to me. Gone are all of those complex explorations of illness and trauma and instead Daniel is almost a completely different character. The fact that this was dropped as basically a tease for the next season, like a Marvel post credits sequence, was what really bothered me. This incredibly important transformation was reduced to a punch line at worst and a “coming next on” at best.

There are a lot of unfortunate tropes that get used almost every time an able bodied writer decides to include a disabled character (and let’s be real, they are always able bodied, because disabled writers do not get hired to show run). One of the most common is the “magical cure“. This happens in almost every example of speculative fiction that includes a disabled character that I can think of. It means that disabled characters are effectively written out of almost every fantasy and science fiction story. There are a lot of problems with this trope. It tells disabled people that they don’t deserve stories that include magic or adventure. It takes away opportunities from disabled actors and means that able bodied actors are cast, and then instructed to “crip up” for the scenes that take place before their cure arrives. (I love Eric’s performance, but it’s not lost on me that he’s an able bodied actor playing a disabled character). There’s the fact that cures are very rarely complete, and most disabled people live in a halfway world of having some access and some treatment that is effective, while they still deal with the physical pain or exclusion that being disabled brings. And there’s no reason that this in betweenness would not extend to treatment available in speculative worlds. Perhaps the worst part of this trope is that it bends to able bodied peoples’ discomfort around this ambiguity. Chronic pain and inaccessibility and reliance on care is sad and scary to a lot of people, and they’d rather not see it. And because of that, they lose out on an opportunity to explore all sorts of themes that only disabled characters can really unlock. Themes about the body, about metamorphosis, about community, and about a hundred other things that us crips understand in a way that someone outside our bodies cannot see in the same way.

So the way that Daniel was presented at the very end of season two was as a complete and total magical cure. He doesn’t have to worry about pandemic anymore, his movement seems a lot easier, and he’s immortal now.

If the show moves forward in this way, without digging deeper into Daniel‘s transformation and perhaps re-examining some vampire lore, it’s going to end up sacrificing some of the themes that made season one and two so great. And it’s going to make me very upset.

However, I think there’s a lot of opportunity for the show to explore Daniel’s transformation with sensitivity and depth. I haven’t talked about Armand yet in this meta, but I love him and I love shipping him with Daniel. My love for Devil’s minion is perhaps the one reason I wasn’t purely angry about Daniel being turned in the way that he was; I do appreciated the way it sets up the show to explore their complicated dynamic. In particular, I’m fascinated by the fact that Armand not only violated his own personal vow never to turn someone, but also violated the great laws when doing so. Daniel breaks the laws in just about every way – he’s written about the history of the vampires, he knows the vampires true identity and has been allowed to live, etc. But the biggest violation is that Daniel is “crippled“ when he’s turned. Now I’ve already written about the way the vampire coven and the great laws espouse eugenics, and I think the show makes it pretty clear that these laws are harmful. The greatest tragedy of the show is Claudia‘s murder. She was killed because according to the coven, she was turned too young. This early turning really had no tangible negative impact on her life as a vampire except in the way that other vampires perceived her. The consequences were all imposed by the coven, who saw her body as wrong and unacceptable. In show canon Armand was also turned when he was sick. Specifically, he had some kind of wasting disease, then made him lose muscle and feel weaker as he came closer to dying. I’ve always maintained the part of the reason that Armand comes down so hard on Claudia is because he projects his own insecurities and weaknesses on her. If he doesn’t eliminate her, someone might recognize how similar they are and question Armand‘s power and authority.

I wonder how much older Daniel’s Parkinson’s reminds Armand of his wasting disease. I wonder if the fact that their vampire eyes are the same color makes Armand think about how similar they are, and about how they are both violators of the Great Laws. I wonder if they ever talk about the ableism inherent in vampire society. I wonder if Armand worries that his transformation of Daniel will be incomplete or botched, because he’s never made one before and because why would there be a prohibition against turning disabled people if there weren’t potential negative consequences? I wonder if sometimes Daniel feels conflicted about leaving behind a body that caused him pain but also shaped him into the person he is, the person that Armand fell in love with (fell in love with again?). I wonder if the show will explore any of these questions with the depth the deserve, or if it will lean fully into a quick and tidy magical cure for Daniel. I really, really hope they do the conversations around Daniel’s turning justice. Because I think in the right hands, a script that explores these issues could be transcendent. These are all themes that the show has already been exploring, and it would be a downright shame to fumble the opportunity to deepen the storytelling around bodily difference, eugenics, grief and change at the final hurdle.

If I were writing on the show, I would lobby hard to have Daniel still retain some symptoms of Parkinson’s even after he’s turned. I know that Daniel will be an unusually powerful fledgling, because he’s Armand‘s only and Armand is very powerful and old. But disability does not preclude power. Daniel should have extraordinary vampire instincts, and power – we’ve already seen him master long distance telepathy quite early, and he could have access to other gifts as a young vampire too. But he could be doing all those things while still sometimes having tremors or fatigue or experiencing the ghosts of old pain. What an interesting way to add complexity to a loud and brash new fledgling.

In general, I want to make the case for disabled vampires. Anne Rice was immensely talented but also immensely ableist. But that doesn’t mean we have to be too. We can take her world and make it more colorful and diverse, just as the show has already begun to do. And let me tell you, there is no group of people more prepared to become vampires than disabled people. We’ve already had to adapt to bodies that act in unruly ways. We’ve already had to cope with being outcasts in society. And those of us with chronic pain (I include myself here) have a more similar relationship to pain and bodies to vampires than to most other humans. Vampires spend a lot of time being afraid of pain; since they are immortal, it’s the next biggest threat after death. Not a lot of people experience pain in this way, as totally separate from a mortal threat on their life. But I do, because even on days when I am in blinding, horrendous pain, it is in no danger of killing me. Its only consequence is the toll it takes on my mind and spirit. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone more prepared to weather the uncertainty and the pain and the brutality of living forever than disabled people. And I would absolutely love to see a disabled vampire in action on my screen.

As we move into season three, and into Lestat’s rockstar career, we’re going to necessarily leave behind the world that is still concerned about the pandemic. Rock venues and musicians in the real world have abandoned any kind of Covid precautions and no longer care if their concerts are super spreaders. Lestat doesn’t strike me as someone particularly concerned with the health of mortals, so I’m sure he’ll be the same. So I hope in order to balance that out, the show does make a deliberate attempt to continue exploring disability through Daniel. I guess they might also weave the pandemic into the Great Convergence and whatever they’ve got cooking for Those Who Must Be Kept since those things were mentioned together and season one, and I would also be excited to see that.

In the meantime, I’m going to be writing a fic that explores Daniel’s turning in a way that delves into all of the questions I asked earlier about the intersections of disability, eugenics, and vampirism. I would love if you read the first chapter and subscribed. I would also love if you included disability in your discussions about the show, and especially about baby vamp Daniel. I can only hope that the writers will follow our example!

[dreamwatch]

Looking California, Feeling Indiana

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #28 - Prompt: Back To Indiana | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: chronic illness | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: pre-Steddie, broken dreams, band break up

(I’m laptop-less tonight so hoping typos etc aren’t too bad - I’ll fix them tomorrow 😆)

The logistics of getting home are left to Jeff. They have a van that might get them from California to Indiana, a station wagon that should get them there, but six years worth of possessions and equipment into a van and station wagon doesn’t go. They sell a load of their shit before heading home. It’s not like they need most of it anyway.

It’s a sombre journey, so different to the one they made to Los Angeles six years ago, so full of hope and excitement, one step closer to their dream. They could have stayed and just built lives there, grounded ones, sensible jobs, sensible hours, sensible lives. But Eddie needed to go back, even if it was just for a few months; he’s twenty seven in a few weeks and he feels like a seventy year old. New aches over old hurts, mystery illnesses slowing him down.

(He knows they’re Upside Down related, knows no one can do anything about them, and knows they’re getting worse. He hates knowing things.)

The Welcome To Hawkins sign looks new; Wayne said it still gets vandalised from time to time, a new one in its place the next morning, reckons they’re buying them in bulk.

Jeff drops Eddie off first because Wayne’s waiting around to see him and get his shit inside before he has to get to work. He’s sixty five now. He shouldn’t be working in that fucking plant anymore. How many times did Eddie say one day Wayne, you’ll see. Useless fucking liar.

They hug, they eat, Wayne looks him over with a sigh; he’s too thin, too pale, leaning on that cane a little too heavily. Eddie knows it comes from love but it’s a lot.

Wayne grabs his keys and his lunch box. “Steve called, by the way. Numbers on the fridge.” There’s a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s good to have you home, Bub.”

Bub. Wayne hasn’t called him that in years, and Eddie smiles to himself, surprised at how much he missed it.

He calls Steve, yeah journey was okay, no roads were fine, yeah all settled in. Steve tells him he’s coming to get him, they’re going for dinner, no arguments and he finds he has in fact no intention of arguing.

Steve looks good. He seems broader, hair is longer which thrills Eddie, and the wire rimmed glasses are like a glacé cherry on the cake that is Steve Harrington.

He gets a whistle stop tour of his friend’s lives, Steve so proud of all their achievements. Tells him Hawkins is different now, friendlier, more welcoming. Happier.

They pick at fries, Steve pushing his pickles to the side of the plate for Eddie. Eddie does his best to hide his smile.

“How are you? You look…”

“‘Tired and too thin’ according to my dear, beloved uncle.”

“I was going to say ‘good’, actually, asshole.”

He grabs a fry from Steve’s plate, drags it through Steve’s milkshake. “Don’t lie to me, Steven.”

“Wayne told me, about your health, the band splitting up. I’m really sorry, man. That fucking blows.”

“Thanks,” he says with a wan smile. “It does indeed blow.”

“You know you probably just need some rest. Give it six months, and you’ll all be back in LA, tearing the place up. You were so close, man.”

He snorts, a humourless laugh. “Yeah, not so much actually.”

Steve leans back in the booth, arm hooked over the back

“Bullshit. You had label guys there just a couple of months ago, and it’s slow, remember you said yourself, it takes time, you don’t just get signed overnight.”

“Steve,” and he says it gently, because Steve means well, and he’s supported them, financially at times, when he was too embarrassed to call Wayne. Steve would send a check or wire him money. And even thinking about that makes this so much harder. 

“There was no label guy. There’s never been a label guy. Or girl, for that matter.”

Steve frowns at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”

And this is it, isn’t it? This is the moment he has to release it into the world.

“I’m going to tell you something nobody else knows. Not even Wayne.”

Steve leans forward, arms crossed on the table. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“We failed, Steve. We failed. The last gig we played was about nine months ago, some frat house party Gareth found for us. It was shit. Because we were shit.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Steve. We didn’t have a hope in fucking hell. Do you know how many bands there are in LA? How few of those ever get a sniff of a record deal.” He shrugs, casual. The sting from the hurt doesn’t burn quite as much as it used to. “We just weren’t good enough, that’s all.”

Eddie watches as the cogs in Steve’s head turn, trying to lock into place. “But your health…”

“Is not great. I didn’t lie about that. But, I leant into it. It’s easier to blame a bum leg and chest infections than admit you’ll never achieve your dream because you’re not talented enough and you’re fucking delusional.”

“You are talented,”

“We’re not. Or, not enough, anyway.”

“What are you gonna do? What are they gonna do?” 

“Wayne’s trying to find me work at the plant. Jeff is talking about community college. Matt will probably go work for his dad. Gareth’s probably going to go to Indy, find a band there. Good luck to him.”

Steve drives him home, actual home now, not that dirty little apartment in LA, but a place where he’ll always be wanted. Will always be good enough. 

They pull up outside the trailer, and Steve reaches over, grabbing Eddie’s hand. It’s clumsy and awkward, but the intent is clear. Trying to pick things up where they left them.

“It’s good to have you home, man.”

“It’s good to be home.”

He’s surprised to find he means it.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Your Slow Turning Pain

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Mental illness talk but never really fully defined. Like... the tiniest pinch of Daddy kink (used by Santiago, not reader). Author's Note: Anon, I love you and I'm over the moon that you came to me with your request and super super super grateful you came back to answer some questions and trust me with these parts of yourself to help me make this. I really hope that it lives up to what your expectations. I'm already thinking of a part two.

Masterlist

Ghostly.

Unseen, unheard.

Full of so much sadness and hurt but not enough to fuel the strength to actually move or be moved.

There’s a passivity to your presence, your contributions. Say something and the subject changes or it’s repeated louder by another down the line. No pats on the back for the work you’ve put in or how far you’ve come. Sometimes there are quiet nods of understanding; small, whispered conversations away from prying eyes who may see and silently judge. Because, God forbid, you may be contagious.

The only time that does change is on your bad days. The greasy hair; the wrinkled clothes; the less and less make up that adorns your features. It’s enough to be seen, to move. 

The pain weighs so much more than the happiness.

Everybody turns to the flat voice and the tired eyes. Comment on it or ask about it; Why do you only ever focus on the negative? They ask why there is sadness and how, exactly, you can be. Drop their voices low and ask if everything’s okay at home.

“I don’t know, Santiago,” you breathe out, “sometimes I feel like I only matter when I’m falling apart.”

He’s shaking his head, back turned to you as he focuses on dinner for tonight. You trade off on good days and bad days, switching the duties based on energy levels determined by chronic pain and the chemistry of your brains.

Words come out of his mouth, ones that are meant to be comforting; validating; affirming. They fall flat and he knows it. He knows it because you’ve heard it all before. He knows it because he’s said it all, you’ve said it all. That doesn’t take away the hurt of it all in the moment. Because when you’re in it, you don’t see it for what it is—and you never will because you’re always in it.

“I hate that you care so much,” he bites out. “I know that it’s unfair for me to when I go through the same goddamn thing but”—he runs a hand down his heat flushed face as he turns from the stove—“I wish neither of us had to, I wish neither of us had these broken fucking brains.”

Some group therapy bullshit brought you together, a half assed performance that felt more like it was preparing you for a future of addiction than being a place of healing. In fact, the facilitator all but said he expected half the group to end up in Alcohol Anonymous or its counterpart for narcotics—or both. Your therapists had suggested it, which was usually what put new butts in those hard plastic sheets, but there was something about Santi that took you from the moment he sat directly across in that wide circle—always going around and growing but never going forward.

It took a few weeks, getting to know each other through the vague answers of general feelings you gave in response to the questions you were asked over and over until your turn ended and another’s began.

“You know it’s not just your fight right?” He asks, body draped over yours now that he’s closed the distance. 

You never had to be weighted down with all of it to be seen, never had to be full of too much to move him or be moved by him. To Santiago, you never had to be anything but what you were from moment to moment. He weathered it all, he loved it all; he broke for and cared for with confidence that it wasn’t one-sided. 

It took some getting used to, every part of your routine built around self-preservation and self-sufficiency. The first time he called himself daddy, said you could tell him anything and he’d take care of it, your whole brain short-circuited and all he was met with was a twisted face that made him think it was all over before it started.

Turns out, support groups weren’t supporting either of you—you just kept coming for one another.

“Come on,” he continues, the teasing heavy in his voice as he starts to press kiss after kiss into your cheeks; your lips; your neck. “Tell daddy what it really is today, let him make it all better.” Big hands slide up your bare upper arms, rough palms scratching like sandpaper against your skin. Sometimes you wonder how the lotion he so meticulously massages into you every night hasn’t taken away these calluses. Selfishly, you’re glad that it hasn’t.

“It doesn’t fucking matter in the long run, Santi,” you give up against his lips. “I’ll get bored and move on again, it’s not a big deal.”

He tells you it matters because it hurts you, it’s a big deal because it hurts you.

You’ve never exactly been a job hopper, just going with circumstance from one place to the next. But Santi came along like a true devil on your shoulder. Go where it benefits you and leave when it no longer does. He stopped that kind of speaking when you asked if that’s how he felt about you. Now he only encourages you to take care of yourself and he’ll follow where that thinking leads—fill the gap that it leaves.

“Why don’t you move on now, sweetheart? Huh?” He bends his knees between yours to keep eye contact, that big, brown gaze boring right into you. “Your savings is built up, you don’t even have to work ever again if you don’t want to.” 

You don’t, that’s what he keeps saying. Keeps telling you that you’re wearing heart and your mask thin for nothing but your own pride. He says he’ll take care of you, he says it’s okay. He knows what’s holding you back though, he knows the fear you have over becoming reliant on somebody else when you’ve already put away so many reservations as it is.

“Tell daddy what it is, tell daddy what it is,” he says over and over again, your smile widening alongside his with every push of his lips into your skin. “There's something bothering you in that big, beautiful brain of yours. Let’s go. Tell me, tell me. Dinner’s simmering and I wanna get to dessert.” 

God, he’s fucking annoying and you love him so much.

You got close so quickly, dinner after group turned into meeting together instead of group. Turns out the suggestion to join at all came from a worry of loneliness for the both of us. For him, he came home from bootlicking bullshit—as he calls it—a lot later than his friends; they’d already been on their healing journeys and they’d done so together. Santiago feared his bullshit would pull them back and so he sought out support elsewhere to leave their progress in tact. 

For you, just having moved and trying to start all over, you had no support. Your therapist thought that would be the place to build it. She was right on some level. Moved in together not long after dating started.

It all just seemed to click.

“I don’t know, Tiago, baby, I-I”—your head shakes as you try to find the words—“remember how you said once that you feel like you’re a guest star in Benny’s and Will's and Frankie’s lives?”

He nods, lip bitten. “Is that how you feel?”

You tell him it’s more like being an extra than a guest star, just there for eight or twelve hours beneath the too bright lights trying to school your face to fit the tone of the scene. “Except… my face doesn’t cooperate because of the panic attacks or the nightmares having kept me up the night before and I know you try to fuck the bad moods out of me, baby, I love you, but you also know—“

“That's not how it works,” he finishes for you.

Finger tips trail across the top of your forehead, curving around your temple and down your cheek. “Let's make a plan, okay? Let’s take a sick day tomorrow, you and me, and we’ll stay in bed or I’ll drive you wherever you want to go, buy you all the sugary bullshit you want.”

“And if I want you to leave me alone?”

Laughter bubbles up out of him and fills you in a way that starts to push the other feelings out. “Then I’ll leave you alone, beautiful.”

To make his point, he moves away from you, pushes off the counter and away from you. The fact that he’s not wearing a shirt makes it worse as your fingers slip against his smooth upper arms in an attempt to grab him and pull him back.

Santiago Garcia has never made you feel unseen or unheard, taking the perfect care to understand the intricacies of how the things in your head work; how they learn and adapt and move the goal lines of your healing journey like some kind of mutated virus.

Truthfully, wholly and in every way he can, he sees the moments and strives to meet the points of connection you’re reaching for. 

For a long time, you never let anybody see it. You never let anybody see any of it. That’s where all these feelings come from, this emptiness of a drained body. Because you spend hours covering it all up with make up and clothes and caffeine like a bad relationship except your abuser is yourself now—not the one who put the thoughts there in the first place.

It is exhausting to be two people, the one you are; the one you pretend to be. With Santiago, you only ever have to be the one.

Here. Now. Everyday and always before that.

You let him and he knew that was as good as you telling him you loved him.

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

Fought with my partner today about holiday plans, honestly caused by communication deficiency + bpd abandonment avoidance bullshit + meltdown.

I kept saying I don’t want to go with him to his family’s holiday meal unless he actively wants me to go (turns out just desperately tying to feel wanted, just bpd diagnostic criteria #1, something neither of us realized at the time) so he kept insisting he didn’t care one way or the other (with good intention, so that I wouldn’t feel obligated to do something overwhelming)

Anyway this man is so good to me, we were angry and yelling at each other but he didn’t wanna leave me home alone while I was that upset so he called and told his mom he wasn’t coming. And I know he wasn’t really dying to do the whole holiday family ordeal, but I still feel so awful.

He is so understanding and puts up with my horrific behavior and chronic/mental illness nonsense and as a thanks I ruin his day. His day off. We worked it out, things ended up good, but now he has to end his day early, mentally and emotionally exhausted, and then get up to work all day tomorrow so he can support both of us because my psychotic ass is too disabled to hold a job or any worthwhile income. And then he gets to come home to a messy house because I’m too dysfunctional to maintain our home properly. And I can’t believe he puts up with this and has for years and years. I’ve never felt so unconditionally loved.

I feel guilty for the obvious but then exponentially guilty that I don’t consistently act more grateful or even just affectionate. But whenever I try to express affection or gratitude or remorse, this panic alarm goes off in my brain that I’m about to give up allll my power and therefore ensure eternal suffering and oppression for myself. Which is just cptsd-brain lying to me, I know. But even knowing that logically, affection and gratitude still feel near impossible to express. I feel them sooooososooosos deeply……. I just wish I could let people know without vibrating violently and tensing up all my muscles involuntarily to the point of catatonia. Getting pretty close just writing this post tbh

Anyway I’ve been doing a lot of self-worth exercises and DBT work on my own and I know things will get better. I just want to be able to give the people I love all the thanks they deserve for all of the endless things they’ve done for me. I just want people to know how grateful I am and how sometimes it feels like my heart is overflowing so much I’m drowning in it. I just want to be able to express that to anyone that deserves to hear it.

[ina-nis]

I will never stop talking about how harmful some therapy modalities are, even if they're considered the first line of treatment for many mental illnesses.

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) is one I particularly hate, not only because it has harmed and traumatized me personally, but because the whole premise of this "therapy" (if I can even call it that) is based on victim-blaming and gaslighting. Full stop.

I found a very good interview/article about the harm CBT can cause on chronic pain patients (I am also one of them!) and it sums up most my feelings and why I would never recommend it to anyone - and I'll actually go out of my way to warn people about it, be mindful and know what they're getting into if they do decide to try.

It's important to note that, even though this is about chronic pain, this fits for a lot of other things, like personality disorders. They're all interconnected after all, and the ableism we face is always similar, unfortunately.

It was incredibly difficult for me to function day-to-day due to the pain and fatigue. It felt like no one understood what I was going through, including the therapists I saw who told me I was just anxious or overreacting. I was told that my pain wasn’t real, would pass if I stopped paying attention to it, or was being exaggerated. I received the same message from many others in my life. They told me I was faking to get out of school or being melodramatic for attention. None of that was true. So on top of being in chronic pain that just got worse, showing up more often and in more areas of my body, I felt dismissed, judged, and alone. Most of my chronic pain treatment, aside from over the counter meds and the occasional prescription for symptoms like heartburn or migraines, was therapy and psychiatric medication. Doctors continued to dismiss my pain and gave mental health diagnoses instead of investigating my physical symptoms. The underlying physical issues causing my pain were overlooked and misattributed to being psychosomatic. Psych meds never helped my chronic pain. I tried almost all of them, yet that didn’t signal anything to my psychiatrists except that I was a “difficult case.” They didn’t consider that there really was something physical going on [and many people do have co-occurring physical and psychological conditions]. (...) Unfortunately, even with my recent diagnoses, the conditions I have are under-researched and don’t always have clear treatment paths. The medical establishment has intentionally neglected researching and treating them. Most doctors don’t know much about the conditions or falsely believe they’re too rare to need to know about, so I’m basically back to square one. I’m still not being provided treatment that actually helps my chronic pain. Even with a growing list of medical diagnoses, therapy and psych meds are still routinely recommended to me, sometimes as the only treatment option.

As I said... way too similar, isn't it? This has been my experience with both chronic pain and most my mental illnesses. It's especially hard to digest regarding AvPD - where one of the treatments is to "just go outside and socialize" and the fact that doing that makes me suicidal is overlooked, conveniently. You're not taken seriously, people think it's just a matter of "willpower" and "positive thinking" and "just don't think about it." A big fat load of bullshit, huh?

But I guess I get it? People don't understand how it is. They most likely never will unless they go through it themselves so, of course, they will offer all these "solutions" and "fixes" - including medical professionals - and will blame you after things straight up don't work, or don't work for long enough.

I do not see anyone talking about side effects and the harms treatment can cause. Nobody. Not a single fucking soul. But if it doesn't work then it's because you're "treatment resistant" or you just didn't get the right mix of meds, or you're just not trying hard enough. Aha!

Now delving into CBT itself...:

(...) I remember pushing back when therapists told me my pain was exaggerated, “all in my head,” or that I was focusing too much on it and making it worse. Therapists told me my pain was psychosomatic. I wasn’t given the space or encouragement to process or discuss my grief, fear, or trauma around living in chronic pain and having it untreated and dismissed. Trying to ignore the pain didn’t stop it. I always knew there was something medical going on. I told them that I was suffering. It didn’t matter. They still thought they could convince me my pain wasn’t real, or that I was choosing to suffer from it even if it was real. That didn’t help, and they were wrong. CBT as a modality is based around gaslighting. It’s all about telling a patient that the world is safe, bad feelings are temporary, and that pain (emotional or physical) is a “faulty or unhelpful” distortion of thinking. That’s literally in CBT’s definition on the APA website. But how do they determine that someone’s thinking is “faulty or unhelpful”? From the first session, therapists told me my way of thinking was the problem, not the medical conditions I couldn’t control or things like systemic injustices, financial struggles, trauma, and discrimination. And that’s a big problem with CBT. When therapists look at patients through the lens of patients’ thinking being faulty or distorted, not the larger issues impacting their lives, therapists miss those larger issues and the patient is invalidated and harmed even further. [Maybe some people find CBT helpful] but what happens in CBT when your thinking is not actually distorted? When you’re someone who has chronic pain, chronic illness, and disability? Someone dealing with systemic and societal issues that are very real and harmful? Someone dealing with trauma, PTSD, or currently being abused? Someone living in a global pandemic that’s disabling and killing millions of people? I believe CBT is built to be dismissive and invalidating. And that’s what was done to me for so long that even I wondered at times if maybe I was causing my own pain, that if I “fixed” my thinking and could stop being anxious, my pain would get better. But two decades of therapy only made me feel more lost and confused, and the pain only got worse. I lost so much time focusing on therapy that I could have been seeing the right specialists and doing preventative treatments that might have stopped my illnesses from progressing the way they have.

CBT is based on the premise that any patient coming into therapy is experiencing distorted, “faulty,” “catastrophizing” thinking. CBT therapists are trained to convince patients that they’re overreacting and that they’ll feel better when they realize they’re overreacting. They believe patients will realize that the world is actually safe (or at least safer than they think it is) and that emotions are based on unjustified fears and misinterpretations. Except that isn’t true. I can’t say I know anyone that’s true for. And it very much blames the victim, the patient. It tells them the problem is their way of processing pain and trauma, not whatever is actually causing it. With chronic pain, the problem can be physical, worsened by the neglect of the medical system. I can’t wish that away. I can’t convince myself I’m not in pain that exists and is being neglected. It’s not true. And it’s harmful to tell me that’s how I’ll get better when it’s not. Also, CBT practitioners seem to work off an assumption that patients will feel better if they refocus their attention to distractions. I can’t tell you how many therapists told me to just go out, make new friends, join a club, even giving me worksheets to schedule and report those kinds of activities. None of that helped me. First of all, it was hard to go out and make friends when I was living in chronic pain. It also felt so dismissive to be told the solution was just to distract myself and pretend everything was fine when I had real, physical pain and trauma going on that wasn’t being properly addressed. I believe the way CBT is prescribed and enacted for people in chronic pain is certainly harmful and inappropriate. [It has been useless to me and many other chronic pain patients.]

(...) I’ve never heard of a pain coach, but from what I’m seeing via Google it looks a lot like CBT to me, except with even less training or oversight. I’m seeing phrases like “creating harmony,” “triumph over pain,” and “focusing on strengths” on coach websites. It looks like a form of life/wellness coaching? The websites seem scammy and ableist. Maybe there are good pain coaches out there, but I can’t tell that from what I’m seeing, and I’ve never seen anyone in the disability community recommend them. So, I can’t speak to it formally, but my guess would be that this is not a non-harmful or trauma/disability-informed method of treatment, at least not overall. I would caution against recommending something like that in lieu of CBT, and certainly not without the input of folks with lived experience of disability who have done it.

I have nothing else to add. This person put my own feelings into words I could have written myself.

I wish we never had to deal with this kind of issue and that it would get better someday. I wonder about that and I really doubt it... but the more people speak up, the more the harm will be seen and maybe something can change eventually.

(About this last part in particular: "coaching" is a huge can of worms because most are not medical professionals or trained psychologists. It is indeed a scam and the whole industry is just like that. You know multi-level marketing/pyramid schemes but make it "therapeutic"? Yeah...)

(...) Even some of the better-seeming doctors promote modalities like CBT, mindfulness, meditation, and biofeedback as first-line treatments. Those things have never helped my chronic pain. My guess is because it’s physical and structural, so at best those things could calm me down temporarily, but all those feelings come right back because the pain never stops, I’m being continually traumatized and mistreated, and I live in survival mode all the time. It’s been a long time since I found any mode of therapy helpful. ACT [acceptance and commitment therapy] had its moments because it was about coping, finding whatever power and agency I could in any given moment or situation, but I still found that limiting because truly accepting chronic pain doesn’t feel possible to me. The anger, fear, grief, and depression always come back because the pain, the source of those feelings, never stops. Sometimes it can just be nice to talk to someone, but I’ve also had problematic and traumatic therapy experiences even with therapists who say they specialize in chronic illness. Sometimes they can still be ableist, tell me I’m “catastrophizing,” and make the same mistakes. Many of them also practice CBT and seem to fall back into it with me when they feel stuck or overwhelmed by my situation. I’ve been unable to successfully do trauma work because therapists tell me we can’t work on past traumas while I’m living in trauma. The chronic pain ensures I’m always in some kind of trauma or survival situation, so I don’t know if or when real trauma work will be possible. My trust in therapy is very limited at this point. I believe much of it has been harmful and I’m not sure there’s a current modality that is truly helpful or validating for people experiencing chronic pain, disability, oppression, and/or active trauma.

[crippleprophet]

Are there any keywords or special phrases that'll make folks listen to me? Cause I've tried telling people about how my spine feels like it's trying to rip itself from my back every single day and how that pain radiates into my legs and arms. But since I'm a minor all I get is "it's your posture :)" [I sit with good posture all dang day and nothing changes]. At this point I'm taking so much ibuprofen just to function that I fear for my organs. Anything I can do? I'm at a loss.

god, i fucking wish there was something that would guarantee that people listen, i’m so sorry you’re going through this. i don’t have the source on hand at the moment but as much as 80% of people have so-called “bad posture” and that many people do not have juvenile chronic back pain; something is very wrong and i’m sorry no one is taking that seriously.

back pain is classified into two categories: mechanical and inflammatory. mechanical could be something like a herniated disc, due to something like scoliosis, etc; it’s due to a trauma (as in injury) or genetic/environmental/etc factors that are affecting the position of the spine. mechanical back pain gets better with rest.

i unfortunately know too many experiences of egregious medical neglect in general and with scoliosis in particular to assume someone would have noticed that if you have it & communicated that with you, so tbh i’d see if you can find an explanation of checking for scoliosis signs (ideally geared towards healthcare professionals) and an observant, trusted friend and do that with them. other mechanical sources of pain are likely to be caught on an MRI, although no one imaging session is ever a 100% guarantee.

inflammatory back pain is what i’m more familiar with; this would be due to an autoimmune condition such as ankylosing spondylitis or axial spondyloarthritis secondary to psoriatic arthritis, crohn’s disease, etc. the key words you want to use if you think this describes your experiences are:

started gradually; got worse over time. (AS back pain is characteristically described as “insidious” for its gradual onset)

stiffness in the morning that lasts [duration longer than 30 minutes].

gets better with movement and worse with rest. (symptom summaries will say “better with exercise,” to which i say have you met a chronically ill person)

NSAIDs help. (this is just a point of diagnostic criteria, which in my opinion is bullshit because NSAIDs are hot garbage. you & others absolutely might have AS without NSAIDs helping)

any pain in your sacroiliac (SI) joint and/or gluteal muscles.

unfortunately, i have listed these exact symptoms to multiple doctors while having an existing AS diagnosis and been told nothing is wrong. there is no limit to how much they are willing to lie & gaslight you, and in many if not most cases, neglect is not preventable by the victim even if we present perfectly. the neglect & trauma you are experiencing are not your fault, and i am holding you in my heart & hoping that you receive the quality, compassionate, comprehensive care you deserve as soon as possible.

[mikelogan]

While I don’t agree with how your mom is treating you, you’re here complaining but didn’t do anything to try to help yourself? Hot bath or shower and pain medication can help a lot.

I've really struggled with whether or not to even answer/publish this ask because I don't owe some piece of shit hiding behind sunglasses a damn thing. I typically block and delete anon hate because, as a nearly thirty year old woman, I just don't care anymore. I used to fire back at anons like this constantly and allow the cycle of stupidity to continue.

On the other hand, this is my blog and if I want to fucking complain about my chronic pain/illnesses/back issues, I have every right to. I also have the right to tell you to go to hell. If popping a fucking Tylenol helped the pain I experience, don't you think I would have done so? Plus, your tone deaf unsolicited advice doesn't know that for my entire life, when I was experiencing pain, my mom's answer was always "TAKE SOME MEDICINE." Not a single moment of empathy or compassion. Just shut up and take a pill. And this was long before I ever even knew the host of illnesses I actually had.

As for your magic healing hot bath/shower: we don't have a tub and do you have any fucking idea how much energy a shower takes when you're chronically ill and have been at like an 8 on the pain scale all day? I'm not proud to admit this, but I haven't showered since my back went out and that's been like probably 5 days? I hate even typing that. It makes me feel disgusted with myself. But it's also REALITY. I've barely been eating because preparing a meal takes spoons that I don't fucking have right now. Just standing takes my breath away and my legs shake almost violently. And yes, we have a shower chair (because my dad has MS), so while that helps, the entire act of getting undressed, turning the shower on, either just sitting under the stream of water or having to hold the showerhead handle the whole time, then getting out, drying off, and getting dressed again takes everything out of me and then some. And that's on a good day. Now factor in back pain, severe brain fog, hands that constantly shake, painful neuropathy in my feet, and the fact that I've barely eaten and I just don't have the fucking energy.

Here's what I hope you take away from me actually wasting my fucking time replying to your bullshit message: nobody -- chronically ill or not -- who's venting on their own blog and not affecting you in the least wants your shitty, unsolicited advice. Anything you think you're doing by "helping" is nothing but shit I've heard my entire life, well-meaning or not. And since I'm already here, the next time you want to pull something like this, maybe try coming off less condescending, you fucking asshole.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Commenting without reblogging.

I’m not enthused about the trend of calling out a refusal to eat food with MSG specifically as racist. I mean, I’m sure that is a significant driver a lot of the time. But, I’m well familiar with a group of people that’s weirdly careful about what they eat: a lot of chronically ill people are that way. Because you get wonky symptoms now and then and there’s like five things that might be triggering your last episode and you don’t know which one so you just avoid all five, because your symptoms suck. This generates a lot of false positives of course, but you do it because, again, the symptoms suck.

So who’s going to be hurt by the idea that avoiding MSG is racist? Yeah, a lot of people who already don’t get believed about their illness(es). Awesome.

the social justice internet sphere really likes to pick on very specific things. But not being weird about MSG doesn’t mean you’re not racist, and being weird about MSG can coexist with being not racist in other ways and/or actively anti-racist, in the same way that eg just not liking to eat Chinese food can coexist with being not racist or anti-racist.

You can avoid Chinese food and get really pumped up about Everything Everywhere All At Once (congrats on the awards btw.) You can avoid Chinese food and show up at Stop Asian Hate rallies. You can personally not like Chinese food and simultaneously have let your friends know early in the pandemic that Chinese restaurants were being hit particularly hard by COVID due to misinformation so it’s good to support them, and it’s possible to go out of your way to support Asian owned businesses of other sorts. It’s possible for students to push for their schools to have Asian studies courses and to talk about how incredibly fucked up (us-specific) the Chinese Exclusion Act was and (us-specific) how incredibly fucked up the WWII Japanese internment camps were. It’s possible for parents of young kids to push for their kids’ teachers/day care teachers to include stories that have Asian characters and to celebrate Asian holidays, like lunar new year. It’s possible to advocate for your county to have voting materials available in whatever Asian languages immigrants speak where you live and to push for interpreters available at hospitals and other places that people need public services. If you know people (family members? Coworkers?) who sometimes do things like complain about people at the grocery store speaking to each other in a language that’s not English, or talk about “immigrants taking over the country”, you can respond however you think is appropriate — education/persuasion for people who seem persuadable, “I’m not going to stand around listening to your bigotry” for people who aren’t.

And that’s not getting into when people of Asian decent are affected by Islamophobia, there’s a lot going on with that too.

Racial justice is so much bigger than what you think it is. It’s not about harassing people for weirdly specific things that just aren’t by themselves that big a deal. Like, yeah, sure, you know someone who’s being weird about MSG you can follow the “responding to random bigoted comments” script; if you know this person is racist in many other ways and they’re not going to change, and you’re not in a position where you need to be on good terms with them, you can leave or do your best to shut it down; if they seem basically chill but ill informed you can have a dialog with them. But I suspect a lot of this isn’t actually motivated by anti-racism, it’s just bog standard “I want someone to feel superior to” bullshit and that’s always kind of fucked up and in this case I can see the potential for splash damage onto a different marginalized group.

I mean we already get some people who will deliberately feed someone with food allergies the thing they’re allergic to just because, and it’s a lot worse when you think a food is triggering specific symptoms but it’s not a recognized food allergy. There are a lot of people who do actually have adverse reactions to random food things that are innocuous to most people, and who have nothing other than their own experiences to prove it. It seems not completely impossible that there are some people who do actually have adverse effects from MSG, in the same way that some people really do have adverse effects to gluten or how some people benefit from a low FODMAPs diet or, idk, there’s a lot of random food things, everyone’s body is different, some people are allergic to pineapple I mean. And it seems pretty much a guarantee that some people have some reason to believe that MSG is harming them even if it can’t be conclusively shown one way or the other. So bringing racism into it is just kinda undermining people’s ability to manage their health by making educated guesses about “hey I felt this way and this is what preceded it, maybe there’s a connection here.”Again yeah that process gets a lot of false positives. But managing chronic illness sucks balls and sometimes you just have to take guesses. I went off birth control because I had some reason to believe it might help, and I was like 90% sure that was just random bullshit (there is a lot of random fear monger if around hormonal birth control as being unnatural) but it did actually make some of my symptoms better. So. Sometimes things that sound like random bullshit (or seem likely to be based in a racist motivation) actually aren’t. When it’s not your body you should be careful about judging other people.

[lehhoh7822]

I posted 3,855 times in 2022

That's 3,609 more posts than 2021!

648 posts created (17%)

3,207 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@proudfreakmetarusonniku

@ruffboijuliaburnsides

@phantoids

@journal-number-3

@las-nevadas-corporate

I tagged 1,355 of my posts in 2022

#lr likes your art - 182 posts

#dsmp - 75 posts

#ua reblogs - 47 posts

#lehhohgoeszoom - 34 posts

#cdc reblogs - 29 posts

#cw food - 29 posts

#haha - 27 posts

#yeah - 27 posts

#passing ships - 27 posts

#creb - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#you know i don’t remember what an ost is but there are many people who go by ranboo and followers knowing your music taste isn’t atypical

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

@americans how many blazes are you getting???

i see a lot of post complaining about blazed posts but im in australia so ive gotten literally like none

15 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

#4

you know i rewatched the whole minecraft bu the sky is eating the world thing where mr soot kept saying that he was being an iron slut

i am beign a whore for copper. i need more fucking copper. 64 of those only translate to 7 blocks (and there should be an extra one but there isn;t because... maht?)

listen I have this massive room and it’s made of snow. and copper. 

16 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

#3

“At this rate I see literally no difference between kicking your ass out of the balcony and not.” oh my god.

this is the bullshit that keeps my love of centricide going

how would one describe centricide, genuinely? EDIT: oh my god I am so sorry I forgot to mention this is a quote from the politi-girl fanfic series on ao3 sorry for forgetting to give credit to @politigirls on ao3

19 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

#2

you know, with all this reboot stuff, i just want to say that the ccs... idk, i feel like they dont completely get how funky the fans are. they’ll be real upset that you tore away the plot and characters and storylines they drew to love with a potential of everything failing more, and many will pull away

but even more so, i think many will stay.

im not sure if they realise that dsmp is really important to a lot of people, and how upsetting it would be to have it torn away after waiting and being paitient, endless fan content and community based around a plot that essentially got “Abandoned Work: Unfinished or Discontinued” slapped on it, but its important enough that even when you mock your fans for being there, even when you fuck them over, etc, etc, they will still watch because it was so good and they care enough and hope enough that theyll keep going until you reach really really shit

yeah lol. idk man

25 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

for me specifically as a teenager who has asthma, i just. maybe its just me, but i swear it can’t be. asthma is this frustrating creature who you get very sick of very quickly. when i have an asthma attack, i might be experiencing like. physcial struggle to breathe but cognitively im just annoyed and tired, and the most emotional reaction you’ll probably get out of me is just frustration or a little bit of fear if it goes on a little bit too long.

everyone is prickish about it, when i was younger i could never participate in sport and people thought i was so lucky when everything just hurt and my head was always light and the office ladies fucking despised me. no one wants to call it a real disability (what else is it? I dare you, tell me what a disability is), it makes you scared to do things, you dont want to run that race or try that sport because you know you won’t be able to do it. you need breaks while running. inhalers are more expensive the price stacks up over time 

like when i have an asthma attack, i literally cannot just breathe. that is the entire problem. i cannot do breathing exercises, it does not matter whehter or not i look you in the eyes, i need the medication for my chronic illness. 

i had this whole thing where a bunch of student in primary school like year 5-6 made videos about me, mocking me and calling me asthma attack girl, and pretending to have asthma attacks to be like look at (name) and how much shes faking!! and putting them online and they got a lot of shares. 

“stop doing that stupid wheezing thing and just breathe” “why are you coughing like that? don’t you want to breathe?” “look at me, no, NO, HEY, HEY, look at me and breathe in- NO NO, BREATHE in and hey no-” “you just lost control of yourself, you need to stay in control and not give in to the asthma”

like. fuck you. treat us with respect. also because your ableism is easy to clown on. 

91 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[cruxcly]

Little rant

A little depressing lol

Went out today, mask on as usual. It disgusts me how little people seem to care about the effects of covid, specifically long covid. I’ve had chronic fatigue syndrome for around 12 years now, I would do anything to be cured. So when I see people disregard long covid, sometimes it feels like an attack on me. Like they’re saying “it can’t be that bad” or “it happened to you, but it won’t happen to me”. Apparently 400 million people have long covid, and I’ve read that many studies are having trouble finding controls because when asked, they end up having long covid symptoms! I’m bitter yet heartbroken at the same time. A part of me wants people to get it so they know. But I would never wish this illness on anyone. How many people need to be ill for people to care? How many children bedbound? How many dreams shattered. I will never lose empathy for those who are sick, catching covid is not a moral failing, but I’m forever bitter towards the people who don’t care.

I looked on the Reddit sub for long haulers. The first post is a suicide prevention line.

In the FAQ for the cfs sub, the page for “what’s the prognosis” has a warning not to read if you’re in a bad place mentally.

I’ve been slowly improving but as long as there’s no cure, I have trouble seeing the light at the end. Even in remission I’ll still have to watch myself.

Something else that irks me is that the wealthy are getting all these contraptions to improve air quality and reduce their probability of infection. I foresee more people dying without care and the wealthy not giving a shit. Some of the treatments for cfs are hideously expensive, yet if you’ve got the money I’m sure you’ll go into remission a lot faster.

And it looks like covid also affects your cognitive abilities! Teachers are noticing more issues with students’ cognitive functions. So just fuck all of us I guess! It feels like covid is just this perfect storm of bullshit. I once called cfs the antithesis of capitalism and I still believe it. More and more people are going to be forced to drop out of school and work, possibly forever. Anyway, I’ve tired myself out writing this, but it feels good to get it down somewhere.

[pterodactylterrace]

Yes you are mean and what's worse is that you don't even realize it

Oh, I can be very mean. I’m a mirror of what I get, so that leaves the question: what did you do to trigger that? I know me, sweetie, and your story has plot holes. First, I don’t reblog Daemon gifs. I may love Matt Smith, but I can’t stand his character. Second, I’ve gone through my reblogs for the last month and there is (shockingly) no gif of Daemon. So either I’m living in your head rent free for over a month, or you’re just making shit up because I called you out on your own bullshit. Either way, that is a you problem.

And just for the record, as it is stated numerous times on my blog, I’m autistic. I can be rude without meaning to, and trying to shame me for it is pretty fucked up. Perhaps try showing me exactly what I did so I have a chance to clear up any misunderstanding rather than accusing me of being mean for no reason? This is the third ask you have sent in just accusing me of being so mean you deactivated an account with 0 context or even a clue as to who you are. Either come off anonymous, send in a SS of what I did, or leave me alone. I was sorry your feelings got hurt. Not feeling so bad anymore, tbh.

Perhaps some therapy would do you more good than accusing random strangers on the internet of hurting your feelings? Or even learning about this handy thing called the BLOCK feature. You see, if someone is being too much, you are well within your rights to block them. I do it all the time! Matter of fact, if the trend holds up, you’re another person who overstepped a boundary and I had to check, and then blocked for my own mental wellbeing. Sure would be nice if people would learn to respect when someone doesn’t want to talk to them.

I would like to leave my asks open, but if you’re going to keep hiding behind the anonymous feature, I’m just going to take it away. I don’t want to do that because it’s easier for others to approach me to ask about mental health or chronic illness if they can do it anonymously.

If it’s bothering you so much you can’t just block me and move on, and instead feel the need to keep harassing me, then this website isn’t for you.

[vizthedatum]

My timeline is getting to be filled with people talking about detransition or people defending and bringing more nuance to the detransition discussions.

It’s hard to see all this (even though I know some of the discourse) as a trans person who hasn’t started medically transitioning and is also figuring out what kinds of medical things they’d would do.

Not that I want to censor anyone!! A lot of the detransition discourse I truly am grateful to read about are people who talk authentically about their own choices, their various forms of fluidity and dysphoria, and what ended up serving them.

At the end of the day, it’s your body and you’re living with it… but there ARE bad-faith actors out there who are actively working against trans people’s autonomy and rights. In various ways!

I read a story about a non-binary person being pushed to more radical medical transition by a health care professional - which really resonated with me since I know there are people who don’t understand that dysphoria isn’t constrained by certain “binary” characteristics (for anyone!!).

The person themselves wasn’t the issue - they’re valid in their own story… the health care professional who didn’t act in their best interest was! That’s why trans and gender affirming activism and education is so important!!!

I watched another video about a non-binary person who detransitioned (or more like - stopped) because they didn’t have dysphoria anymore after a certain point. They also realized during the process that they were genderfluid instead of a man. ALSO VERY VALID, and it’s incredibly nuanced - which a lot of the anti-trans discourse doesn’t really get at.

It’s frustrating because those voices should be raised and talked about with the nuanced involved instead of people being like “you can’t take back transitioning and you’ll regret it” black-and-white bullshit.

Sigh.

—

On a personal note, I’m terrified. I still pass as a woman even if I’m now more vocal about my dysphoria and gender identity. I am set up with healthcare professionals including my therapist and psychiatrist to figure out transition stuff.

My priority is to focus on superficial stuff: clothes, hair, binder, and presentation - in whatever way I want to experiment or whatever suits me the best. I’m also going to make more efforts to bind in public and maybe do vocal training on my own.

My priority is to actually focus on getting my current body to its most optimally healthy state so that I can biologically conceive since having a child has been part of my personal life plan. This has been a big goal for me in general as a chronically ill person. Ironic but I’m trying to balance my hormones out and work on my PCOS instead of embracing the hormone imbalance that made me more gender euphoric. (After I have a baby - then I’d like to go on testosterone… and while it may not be a good fit for me, I AM WILDLY EXCITED BY THE PROSPECT!!!!)

I don’t hate my feminine body with my curves and breasts - there are things I’d like to change but the more I COME OUT AS A FEMBOY WHO IS GENDERFLUID AND NON-BINARY, the more I feel peace within my body. I still have dysphoria but it’s not all-consuming some days (and some days it is!).

I am just beginning to take radical steps on all these personal goals…

[rynrambles]

UH I don’t usually like to talk about my personal life because I desire to be an enigma, like the contents of a Costco hot dog. But at the same time, I felt like I just wanted to scrape all this out of my head and put it somewhere else. It’s a long read, and I don’t expect anyone to trudge through it, but at least these things aren’t stuck in my brainspace, rattling their cages anymore. 

--

To preface, I’m equal parts torn between “Bro, you’re overthinking this, no one cares”, “everyone cares a LOT, and you’re potentially opening a big can of worms here,” and “are you truly explaining yourself, or just making excuses for yourself?” (The answer being: I honestly don’t know.)

The thoughts are so disjointed, all vying for my attention with the same urgency and insistence. I desperately want to put them in order, line them up neatly, clearly, concisely, but it ends up being a very “herding cats” sort of endeavor; As soon as I turn my attention to one thought, the other 27 have disappeared, gotten into something they shouldn’t have, or barfed on the carpet.

At the core of it all, I want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve not been particularly reliable in recent years. Obviously, I do not enjoy disappointing people; I don’t like failing to meet expectations, making promises that go unkept, disappearing for months on end, etc. I cannot stress how inadequate and ashamed I feel because of it. Yet the scrambled eggs I call my brain fights me tooth and nail every time I try to do anything about it. 

I know this is the most autistic thing imaginable, but please allow me to compartmentalize and elaborate on some thoughts that have been tumbling around in my head.

The Mental Health thing:

I’m trying to get better about working with my bipolar2. I can prolong my manic phases in a way that allows me to get more work done for a longer period of time, and I can cushion the blow of depressive phases. But I still feel the push and pull of these cycles. 

The downswings are the primary reason why I simply disappear at times, and it feels like a herculean effort to claw my way out of the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad pit of despair and 14 hour depression naps.

But then the upswings have me chasing novelty: prioritizing ephemeral, unimportant things over projects that I really need to get done. There is no negotiating with the ADHD brain to work on a task. Guilt, bargaining, bribery, blackmail, reason, logic, it’s all thoroughly ineffective. I might as well be trying to move mountains. I'm getting better at structuring things in a way where I'm able to do "fun, exciting, new projects," while also doing my gotdamned job, but it's still something I'm working on.

The Physical Health thing:

I once told one of my closest friends that I felt she and I, with all our similarities in mind and body, were cut from the same cloth. She replied “yeah, but it’s cheesecloth,” and I’ve laughed about it every day since. 

She’s chronically ill, much more so than I, but there’s a sort of… guilt-laced comfort in knowing that we’re not alone, that someone does understand to a similar depth and degree. 

But it’s still bullshit, yaknow? I’m tired of migraines that render me temporarily blind multiple times a week, I’m tired of the disruptive visual disturbances and hand tremors making it difficult to draw. I’m tired of tachycardia, palpitations, breathlessness, fatigue, nausea. And I’m tired of being shuffled between cardiologists, endocrinologists, pulmonologists, ophthalmologists, one specialist after another. Endless referrals. Numerous tests. Give us your blood, pee in this cup, try this diet, take these medicines. And the final verdict is always “hmm, we’re not sure what’s wrong.”

I don’t understand why my own body insists on fighting me at every turn. I give you water and walkies and sunlight every day, you ungrateful lump of flesh.

The art & friends thing:

I think enough people are aware that I had a huge falling out with my friend group some years back. There were rumors and accusations I wanted to address, but I was always worried things would blow up all over again. One can’t simply put out a statement and expect the involved individuals will have nothing to say in turn. And that’s only fair, right? The mere act of “defending” myself calls their integrity into question, so shouldn’t they be around to offer the counterbalance of their personal experiences and reasoning?

But ultimately, neither party wants to dredge up and rehash the same shit all over again. It’s exhausting. It’s emotionally taxing. And in the end it all boils down to he-said she-said anyway. 

So I’ve done my best to just be okay with it. Like, I did cause a lot of problems anyway, so maybe it’s penance for my wrongdoings. I don’t know. 

Moral deliberations aside, I found myself abruptly without friends. Emotionally devastating to be sure, but it also had an additional aftereffect of leaving me without artistic colleagues who could encourage creativity, offer input and opinions, redline my work, etc. And because artists cannot grow in a vacuum, I began to stagnate. 

To say nothing of the perpetual rumination whenever I would sit down to draw. It was the same unpleasant thoughts, over and over again on repeat. Day in and day out. 

So I stopped drawing.

Onwards:

Since then, I’ve slowly healed. I reconnected with my childhood friends and I cannot possibly express the amount of love and joy they’ve brought to my life. Likewise, my beloved husband has been nothing but supportive and encouraging, despite the literal years of me sort of moping around, aimless and without purpose. I look back at how I’ve spent the past half decade and I hate this languishing creature that has worn my face but contributed nothing of value to my life. 

I want to be me again, and I want to be productive and creative, not because of (mandatory) hustle culture, but because it genuinely makes me happy. Like, not to be a goober but isn’t it kinda magical to be able to see something in your head or have a vague idea and then conjure it into existence through art/writing/music?  That shit is cool as hell. I wanna do magic. And I want to feel proud of myself for accomplishing something. Maybe it’s capitalist brainwashing but productivity scratches the constant itching in my brain.

Ultimately:

So, that’s where I sit now, getting back on the horse for the umpteenth time and hoping I can do a little better than before. Perhaps, with the knowledge of what has and hasn’t worked in the past, I can hold on longer, recover faster. 

I want to thank everyone who has continued to cheer me on through it all. There are some names I’ve seen pop up again and again over the years, offering me kindness and patience well beyond what I deserve. You’ve always made me feel like it was worth it to dust myself off and try again, encouraging me ever onward. Even though you owe me nothing. Even though it can be difficult to gather that energy, and harder still to turn those thoughts into words. 

So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.