#no appetite

[ajgrey9647]

Frigging ADD meds

[dixieandherbabies]

Dixie and her babies.

Our old man, Carter has been losing weight for the last few months, and the veterinarian says that it’s the beginning of his kidneys starting to fail.

[whump-about-it]

Healing Isn't Linear

@whumpril Day 2: Sweat No Appetite

CW: angst, trauma recovery, trauma from recovery, set backs in recovery, disordered eating, possible eating disorder? (no body dysmorphia), referenced panic attacks, referenced nausea.

The clock on Whumpee's laptop read 8:45 p.m.. They'd been staring at it since 8:41, watching the minutes pass and trying to remember if they had adjusted the time for day light savings. Did their computer do that automatically? When did daylight's savings start anyway? Was it an hour later? Or an hour earlier?

It didn't really matter. The whole mental exercise was only a way for Whumpee to distract themselves from the fact that it was well past time that they should have eaten dinner. As well as the fact that they really should have noticed that earlier.

Whumpee had missed lunch too. And all they'd had for breakfast was half a slice of toast. Whumpee should have been hungry. They should have been starving. But they felt nothing.

It had been the same the day before. And the day before that too. In fact it had been several days since Whumpee had had any sort of appetite to speak of. They'd been able to ignore it up to this point, but the realization that things were getting bad again was beginning to sink in.

It had been a few years since Whumpee had escaped Whumper. The first year after had been rough. Their physical wounds had healed quickly, but the mental recovery was almost worse than anything Whumper had done to them.

When the initial relief of rescue had faded, fear had begun to set in. What if Whumper came back? What if Whumpee couldn't acclimate to the outside world? What if no one believed what had happened to them? The anxiety and desperation had begun to wear on Whumpee in as many physical ways as mental. They couldn't sleep. When they did they had horrible nightmares. Panic attacks were a near daily occurrence and the times between them were so fraught with anxiety that Whumpee could barely leave the house.

Everything came to a head with their appetite. The anxiety is what had started it. Even at their calmest, the tightness in Whumpee's chest was so constricting that they constantly felt on the verge of being out of breathe. Having to actually hold their breathe for any reason such as drinking or chewing felt so suffocating that Whumpee began to avoid such actions as much as possible. Soon enough, the feeling of hunger began to become synonymous with impending panic attacks, and then began to be replaced by them. Before long Whumpee had no appetite to speak of, and could only manage a few bites of food before panic would set in. Even the smell of food began to make Whumpee nauseous from the anxiety of knowing that eating it was going to make them suffer.

Even as their other symptoms began to improve, Whumpee's appetite stubbornly refused to return. They had wasted away to less than they had been when they were with Whumper. A pale, shivering, bag of bones, sinking into corners and shadows anytime food was brought up. Caretaker had had to apply some very tough love, before Whumpee eventually began to improve. Threatening to check them into impatient care if they didn't agree to getting treatment. The whole idea felt too much like being locked up again. So despite giving Caretaker the silent treatment for a month afterwards, Whumpee agreed.

It had been years since that had been an issue. Other problems would resurface occasionally. Insomnia, nightmares, panic attacks. And Caretaker was always quick to check on Whumpee's eating habits when they divulged to them that things were getting harder. But until now, Whumpee's appetite, and diet, had at least remained stabled.

It was thinking about Caretaker that finally compelled Whumpee to close their laptop and stand up. They would notice something was off soon if Whumpee didn't get a handle on the situation. The only reason they hadn't yet was because work was busy for them right now and they hadn't been over to Whumpee's house since before things started up. Their work wasn't slated to die down again anytime soon either, and Whumpee didn't want to give them anything else to worry about. So they made their way to the kitchen and pulled some leftovers out of the fridge.

You're going to be fine.

Whumpee told themselves as they watched their left overs spin lazily around the microwave.

You won't have a panic attack if you eat.

You'll still be able to breathe if you eat.

The microwave beeped its completion and Whumpee took the now steaming food out to set on the counter. They were hit with the warm, delicious smell of noodles and pasta sauce which they basked in for a split second before a wave of nausea washed over them so intense they doubled over.

Oh this isn't good.

Whumpee's chest tightened. Their throat felt like it was closing. The room began to wobble around them and their heart rate spiked.

You have to eat!

Even the thought of it made bile rise in Whumpee's throat. With one last mournful look at their dinner, Whumpee tossed it in the trash where the smell couldn't nauseate them anymore.

Maybe some crackers will do better.

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whumpril Day 29: No Appetite

CW: recovery from illness, brief magical/Gothic whump

As he sits at the dining table, nudging his dinner around with the tip of his fork, Nathaniel can feel his sister’s gaze on him. She keeps glancing at him between bites, her dark eyes flicking up to his face and back to her plate as if she’s scared he might faint right there in his seat.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mumbles, placing his fork down next to his uneaten vegetables.

“But I’m worried about you. You were sick all night, the doctor said.” She copies him, setting her utensils down with a clink, finally looking at him directly. He can see her concern: it’s obvious in her tight mouth and tired eyes. She should be used to this by now, he thinks, wadding up his napkin in his lap.

“I was, but I feel better now,” Nathaniel says. “Look, I’m even sitting at the table.”

“Not eating anything.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“So you’re still sick!”

“Children, please,” comes the reprimand from the end of the table. Samuel Mortenbrook looks at each of them in turn, his own face mirroring his daughter’s tiredness. “Elvie, if he’s not hungry, he doesn’t have to eat. Nathaniel, she’s worried about you.” He says it all matter-of-factly, without much feeling, as if explaining something for the hundredth time. His plate clean, he pushes back from the table and beckons to the maid to remove their dishes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my work for the rest of the evening. I trust you can take care of yourselves?”

“Yes, Father,” Elvie replies, nodding.

Nathaniel nods wordlessly. Deep in his chest, the stone throbs once. He keeps his face passive, not wanting to betray the brief crack of pain that rockets through his body. The library. I have to get back to the library. I have to keep looking. He forces himself to breathe evenly as he leaves the dining room. The hall outside is dim and empty; he holds one hand outstretched for balance as he walks, trying not to cough. His heartbeat quickens in time with his thoughts.

I found something. Hope. A cure. Something, anyway. Something I can’t let go. Something that might make me well.

Something my family can’t ever know about.

[bg-sparrow]

Fandom: Back to the Future || Rating: T || Genre: Whump, Angst, Some Humor || Summary: In which Marty finds himself living an outlaw’s life alongside Buford Tannen in the Old West, where danger, death, and disease abound.

whumpril 2024 || day 28 - no appetite

CW: animal dressing

“I don’t get you, Eastwood.” Buford hacked and sawed into a fresh deer carcass. The wet, aggressive tearing of fur from flesh puckered Marty’s shoulder blades together. “You can’t hunt, you can’t skin…” Marty stifled a vile lurch as Buford discarded the doe’s innards in a slop pile between them.  “Can’t dress a deer without turnin’ green—“ “I can’t help it!” Marty pulled his bandana over his nose. “It’s disgusting!” “It’s a goddamn feast, is what it is.” Rabbit got old fast. “Make yourself useful. Clean that up.” After, Marty couldn’t stomach the waiting steak. He let Buford have it.

[w41k3rv3r53]

You wouldn't feel like eating when a feeling eats you from inside.

[carpinone]

I've got it pretty bad

[prettyboykatsuki]

has been an extremely bad day ansnd

[twinkdrama]

my appetite has left the chat

[bunnygonebonkers]

Lost my appetite

[katthebutterfly]

TW: ed

Because of my ed there have been a lot of days when I've been repulsed at the thought of eating/had no appetite/got nauseous. But if I had to eat in front of people,I was able to put on a convincing show.But with this concussion,all of those food issues I've mentioned are really bad symptoms I'm getting from my concussion.Its much worse than with just my ed.And its really annoying,because your brain needs tons of nutrition to heal from concussions.So not only am I eating more than usual,I also don't want any of it.Also,my dad knows its one of my symptoms,so he's been really careful about making sure I eat.The whole situation just sucks.

Please don't hate on or report me,I just need somewhere to put my angsty stuff.I'm not pro @na,except for when it comes to myself.I fully support others recovery.

[ghostdata]

haven’t had a real meal in days

[vega-and-me]

I am hungry… but unfortunately it’s only in theory

[badcountryofficial]

Uugghhhhhhhhh

[technologyvoid]

Back to sleeping for me

[bybdolan]

People were not lying...... covid DOES hit