#now I can tell myself the things I know my therapist would have said... but that doesn't work because those thoughts come from my brain and

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 12: ~

Operation Spy Part 1:

Here we go. The moment we've all been waiting for. The rescue. How will it go? Knowing this lot...

Step 1. Grab the yellow paint and mark the infected containers.

Step 2. Load the infected inside.

Step 3. Get back to the mainland.

Step 4. ...

Well, we'll see what happens afterwards.

Brodie and Roper waited at the Under Rig. They watched the horizon. An outline of a cargo ship came into view. It was a strange feeling. They were all so relieved because this was it - they were going home - but how can you just walk away from this? Easy. You don't.

The pair had to count their lucky stars. They weren't dead like Gregor or turned into something no one thought possible like Rennick. They can still have a normal life. Until then, they just had to go through an investigation, followed by a debriefing and possible firing from Cadal to cover their own arse. It's not like anyone here would care. If Cadal was thinking about sending anyone here to another rig, then they had another thing coming.

'So, what's your plan, Roper?'

'I think I'm going to take myself and the misses on that long needed holiday to Spain. What about you?'

'Take myself and Raffs back to Skye and...'Brodie shrugged. 'I dunno. Rethink my life choices.'

Roper wasn't daft. He was basically the crew's therapist when he wasn't manning Marine Control, and he knew something was bothering Brodie. Which was an oddity in and of itself because nothing bothered him. He was a father figure to most of the younger lads here, especially Raffs. Brodie's known him since he was a child. Roper's eyes lingered towards Brodie's crossed arms. His hands gripped to the sleeves as if he were hanging onto them for dear life. His breathing was laboured, which he'd just pass off as the cold.

'Don't blame yourself,' Roper said. Brodie's shoulders and jaw tensed. 'Raffs is fine. You're fine.'

'I know.' Brodie spoke through gritted teeth. 'But, I shouldn't have let him go down there.'

'He wasn't infected.'

'The lad wasn't ready.'

'Yes, he was, Brods. If none of this happened, he'd be going head first back into that diving bell. Give him time. He'll tell you what he wants.'

Of course, Roper was right, and with a supportive pat on the shoulder, he made his way to the Deck for an update. Brodie continued to watch the cargo ship come into view and took a deep breath to help himself relax.

'He's right.' Raffs' voice broke Brodie out of his spell. The pair had failed to notice that the young man was just around the corner. He approached and leaned against the railing. He seemed happier today. More relaxed. His wide eyes were calm, and his hands weren't shaking. 'I mean - Yeah, I was terrified, but I knew I was safe. Plus, I did hit my head in there. Of course, I'm going to be shak-'

Brodie didn't let Raffs finish his sentence. He just grabbed the young man he saw as his son and held him close. Raffs knew what this was. He's felt this crushing hug before, where Brodie kept him close and refused to let go. The last time he felt it was when Raffs nearly fell down the stairs carrying one side of a dresser. You couldn't fight it either. Any second now...

'I'm sorry.'

There it is.

Raffs returned the hug, though he could never have the strength of Brodie. 'I'm fine,' he said with reassurance whilst he pulled away. 'Just needed to wrap my head around all this.' Brodie's heard that excuse before, but he'll take his word for it. As long as he was okay.

The same couldn't be said for Muir.

Anxiety suddenly gripped him, and the heartbeats he could hear weren't helping. If this was his power from The Shape, then it was frankly shit. The excitement from everyone made him uneasy. There was no warning. The anxiety just came knocking on the door before kicking it down. Muir's mind began to race with ridiculous possibilities. What if the ship sank? What if the police are waiting for Caz to just shoot him? What if The Shape isn't really dead and it'll follow them to the mainland? What if he's taken away and he never gets to see Innes again?

Muir held his breath with a thousand yard stare. No one seemed to notice. Not even Innes, who came into the container with a backpack he left for his partner. All of Muir's eyes turned to him, yet his head stayed seated in the same position.

'Alright. That's all of your stuff.' Like everyone else, Innes was happy. 'Yes. I brought the bloody harmonica before you ask. But don't go playing it until we get ye home.' Muir didn't answer and continued to stare. His mind wouldn't shut up. Everyone's heartbeats drowned out whatever Innes said. It was an echo for him. Everything began to blur. Not because The Shape had suddenly returned, but because he was crying. Muir could finally allow himself to breathe again. Innes looked, and his smile dropped. 'Muir?' He felt a tendril wrap around his hand, and he instinctively began to stroke it with his thumb.

'Please don't go.'

Innes frowned. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Stay in here with me.' A pause. 'What if this doesn't work? And what if I'm taken away, never to be seen again?'

'I think that's impossible.'

'Innes, please!' Muir snapped as he began to tighten his grip on Innes and shook his head, because he couldn't run a hand through his hair anymore. 'I don't want to be on my own.'

Innes moved towards him and wiped Muir's tears away. Muir hugged and pulled him closer for him to rest his head on his shoulders. Of course, Innes allowed it and, in return, gave Muir a kiss. 'Alright... Alright, Muir. I'll stay, but we have to be quiet.' Muir nodded before buring his head into Innes.

The pair were so worked up in themselves that they didn't notice Gibbo, Trots, and Roy watching. None of them were surprised. They all suspected something for a while. I'm glad to see they had their confirmation.

Roy often wondered what that felt like. To love someone so near and dear in that way. He's loved friends and family, but nothing you could conclude to be romantic. His only real love outside of that would be football and cooking. He caught on that the three were just staring at this point and gave Gibbo and Trots a small tap.

'Right, you two, get in.'

With their belongings tucked away in the corner, Gibbo, being bigger of the pair, went first and soon settled by using his bag as a pillow. Trots soon followed and didn't exactly know what to do with himself. He had this coat pocket, but it was just awkward for him. Like Rennick, he felt like a rescue horse being led to a stable.

'Hope you don't mind me sharing with you, Gibs.'

'As long as there's no Cadal this or Cadal that.'

'Oh no, this has made it worse,' Roy laughed. 'But hey, if he gets bored, Animal Farm is in his bag.' It wasn't. Trots knew it wasn't. The comment got Gibbo laughing. Trots just smirked before using the tendrils to make himself taller before giving Roy a quick shove on the shoulder with a chuff.

'Off with ya, ya prick.'

'Seya on the other side, lads.'

Of course, the men weren't in complete darkness. Along with the sun coming through at the bottom of the door, Caz and Finlay made some adjustments to the containers, other than paint. A few holes for the natural light. No one thought about possible rain, though.

'Are you really going to use your infection to get a Union?' Gibbo asked out of curiosity.

'Of course,' Trots said. 'How can they say 'no' to this?'

'Ah Christ.' Maybe Gibbo should have taken Rennick as his container-mate. He made his stance known by grabbing Trot's bag and holding it over his head like a pillow trying to block out the noise.

'Right, you two Roasters,' Finlay said in her usual tone that commanded your attention. She was never scared to use it towards Rennick and Addair before, and them being infected didn't change that. The pair awkwardly stood in their own shared container. 'I better not hear a peep out of either of you.'

'I want off this rig, Finlay,' Rennick said in that tone when you're about to get an earful. 'Why the fuck, do you think I'm gonna be loud?!'

'Because you always have to get the last word.'

'Then give me my own container.'

'No. We take you in pairs. Muir's too big for anyone else.' Except Trots, but wanted to be with Gibbo. 'Now keep ye' voices down, or I'll come in there and ring both of ya necks.'

Was Rennick scared of Finaly? No. Was Addair scared of Finlay? Also, no. But, the pair had to admire her attitude, even if they didn't like being spoken to like this. She always carried herself with authority and had bigger balls than most of the men here. Even if she couldn't swim.

'Hey Finlay?' Addair called as she began to close the door. Finlay stopped and listened. 'Why did the military say no to you?'

'Because they don't take women. Is that why they refused you, Addair?'

With that, the door shut, and Finlay could finally feel her blood pressure return to normal. Faint snickering from Rennick could be heard through the metal, followed by a small smack. She spotted Roper and gave a thumbs up, who gave one in return.

Within minutes, the cargo ship docked beside them, and a man stepped off and onto the walkway that connected to the rig. Thankfully, the sea was calm this afternoon. Roper went to greet him.

'Are you Rennick?' He asked.

'No,' Roper said. 'We did a headcount. We lost him.'

'Didn't take a lifeboat?'

'Considering none of them worked, the answer's no.'

The man noticed the exhausted look in Roper's eyes. He was putting it on just so they could leave faster. They then noticed the amount of holes and smashed windows were on Beria. And this was only one part. Their eyes went wide and confused as they scanned the rig before looking to Roper for answers, who exchanged a look that said, 'I know.'

Nothing else needed to be said. The man gave a nod of approval. 'Oh, and we still have some equipment that Cadal will want back.'

'Will they?'

'Do you want to pay for anything we lose?' Seems Caz's sarcasm had finally rubbed off on Roper.

'Fair enough.' He turned and called to his crew. 'Get the crane going!'

And breathe.

Soon, the crew of Beria were safely secured on the cargo. The infected were all sat next to each other, but the equipment sat on top. So much for the holes to give them sunlight. Maybe they could see in the dark?

Caz found himself watching the containers from the safety of Bridge. He couldn't feel their presence from this distance, and it left him on edge. He hoped they were okay. Yes, even Rennick and Addair. He turned and, along with the others, watched the Beria slowly disappear from view.

'Good riddance.'

[ef-1]

girlhood

[izzy-b-hands]

im ngl i had a lil breakdown before my shower (which i took just before i went to bed to chill and watch the new eps) abt some thought-id-already-worked-all-thru-it irl stuff that resurfaced on me like trauma tends to and i just

it made everything in the show so. I don't know how to say it right. but i feel seen and understood and emotionally overwhelmed in a safe yet weird way, just like i did with a lot of s1 and I am Feeling So Much akdnfkgb (i cannot stress enough that this is a Good Thing and I'm absolutely thrilled and happy with the new eps and like. Going to be fine mentally I just gotta wrangle this like i have the times before.)

[running-in-the-dark]

On days like today I really wish I still had a therapist. It would help so much to discuss what happened with a neutral outsider, someone who is a competent, apparently well adjusted person whose judgment I can trust. Like, I know we didn't do anything wrong, I even googled it to see if you have to ask your landlord before drilling holes in walls here (you don't). But it didn't help, I still feel like I did everything wrong and like I'm a horrible person. Knowing that's illogical doesn't help unless someone else that I trust confirms it and discusses the whole thing with me. Because my brain is stupid.

[medicinemane]

Anyway, hope you're all doing well

I just... I haven't slept and also I've got like... 2-4 days of tumblr to catch up on... mostly to make sure I don't lose anything I want to keep requeuing

In many ways I'm probably doing better than I have been in a long time... maybe ever, but... I've got zero focus, I can barely watch youtube videos, I certainly can't play games... I can't get myself to clean... I don't know man

It's like... it's like my mind's empty except for some thick clear goopy sludge... it's like being over at a strange house sat alone in a big room waiting for people to come back... not wanting to touch anything so you just sit there staring and feeling out of sorts, except it's just constant in my own house in my own room... just saw Bart flop down in front of my door and realized I'm so out of it I forgot I had cats

It's like I'm living every moment in the moment, but not in a peaceful way, in a I'm untethered from reality and trying to figure out plans or how to deal with getting everything sorted out is just kinda painful kinda way

Then my mood... well... I kinda have no mood. I'm fucking numb if I'm honest. I have flavor opinions like "I'm worthless and should kill myself", but I actually don't even feel depressed right now, I feel nothing

I don't see much point to my future even if everything goes great, and I would like to kill myself, but I have zero interest in even considering it right now even though I have everything I need around if I just stand up and take a single step

So... much as it probably sounds like I'm just pure in the trash right now, I'm actually in many ways probably doing better than I ever have before... I'm just also real messed up right now at the same time

I don't feel hopeful, I never feel hopeful, but I do feel like I can maybe guide shit into a good position, it's just once again I figure that even if I do everything I want to with being able to help other people out and stuff, I'll still just kinda end up alone in a crowd

You know... funny thing is I'm thinking "the fuck is even the point I wanted to make?", and I realize... my point was actually that I'm doing pretty good and not to worry... not sure how well I'm selling it, but it's true

I hesitate to assign anything to myself, my stance on me and anything I can't conclusively say tends to be no comment... but if I were looking at someone else describing what I'm feeling in my position, I might be inclined to say burnout... months of having to be on and clean and manage everything and... all that... well it's one explanation, who knows if it's correct

Anyway though, I'm good, don't worry, know I do appreciate you all and wish I had more brain power to say more to more people... it's just maybe kinda sad that this is my version of doing good... the fuck is wrong with me if I wake up everyday feeling like I've been beaten with clubs... and for me this is kinda peak... what's that say about my baseline?

Doesn't matter, only thing to do is keep moving forward

Guess insomnia paired with not really being able to think, like words just kinda pop out with no planning... guess it makes me ramble real bad, this was supposed to be like one or two paragraphs being positive

It's a Beautiful World

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[creekfiend]

I wanted to make a bonsai kitten recovery post that outlines some of the stuff that I've been doing. Because I don't think that you need to ✨see a therapist✨ to start dealing with a lot of this stuff and I get really frustrated when that is the answer that everyone is constantly giving. Firstly a disclaimer, because I know what website I am on: this is a guide for things that have worked for me! I am not everyone and if there are things on here that do not work for you or even that you think are stupid, that is fine, but please do not make it my problem. If you are reading it and you're like "that sounds like it would actually be detrimental to my specific mental health because of my specific issues" then please disregard it. Use your critical thinking skills and do what you think is right for you!

My second disclaimer is that I didn't make any of this up myself; most of these are collected from various places either in therapeutic guide books or various websites about emotional regulation etc. Some of it is stuff that I have extrapolated from those places based on experience with what works for me or does not work for me. A lot of the way that I treat myself when I need to get my body and brain into a place where I can think about stuff productively is actually directly from gentle parenting guides, because frankly cptsd recovery stuff is very often like parenting a toddler. And the toddler is you. ALL THAT SAID,

The first skill that I had to get good at, that many of the other skills depend on, is to learn how to understand when I am Reacting to something. If I am Reacting it is extremely likely that that's going to only escalate the situation and make it much worse. I HAVE to be able to tell if I am Reacting emotionally to something in a way that is coming from a place of fear and panic. This is important because it involves not being prescriptive about your emotions. You could be Reacting to something that you do not logically feel is at all justified in making you feel that way and that doesn't matter! You can't be doing math equations to try to come to the answer of how you SHOULD be feeling; you have to be observing your mind and body to see how you factually ARE feeling and then respond to THAT. This can be really hard to learn how to do especially if you were abused as a child. (If you cannot think of yourself as someone who is abused as a child perhaps it would help to think of yourself as someone who simply was not taught various emotional regulation skills for mysterious reasons that have nothing to do with your parents' inadequacies.) I need to be able to glance inward and see what the physiological reaction that I'm having is and identify whether or not I feel like this is the biggest emergency in the world that needs to be addressed right now immediately! That is a sure sign that Mr Fight and Mr Flight are in the building and it is bad to make declarative statements or important decisions when that is the case. So, I have to work on dismissing them first. That is literally the first step to any of this. One of my friends calls this "fire mittens," which is to say, if you are wearing mittens that are on fire and you try to touch stuff, the stuff will also become on fire. You have to put the fire out first before you can touch other things.

Once I have determined that I am indeed Reacting and in a physiological state of fear, I have a document in my notes app that is a "what to do when you are in fight or flight mode" guide and it has several helpful things that I will try to outline here.

Firstly, the really important thing for me for trying to get back into an emotional state where I'm capable of making decisions and being thoughtful is to feel safe and comfortable. So I actually have some stuff in my document that is straight up just like "go in the blankie nest. put on this specific music album. light this specific scented candle." etc. You might want to have a specific food or drink that is comforting to you or some other sort of stim toy that helps you regulate. If there's any calming medication or supplements for anxiety that you take as needed, now is also the time to do that. Physical sensory grounding is really important for this. This is probably especially true if, like me, you are neurodivergent, but I think it is also true for everyone because we are animals! And you can't just think about it, you have to actually do it. Which sounds obvious but is the thing that has often tripped me up in the past. Once you start getting into the habit of actually physically doing this it DOES become easier though.

One of my rules is that if I want to respond to something but I am in fight or flight mode, I don't get to respond to it for at least 24 hours. I'm only allowed to respond once I've gotten myself out of fear mode. If it is some kind of comment on Facebook that has set me off, often this means that 24 hours later I realize that I actually don't want to get into it to begin with, which is great. If it's something that is pretty serious and interpersonal with a friend, sometimes that means I have to communicate to them that I'm going to take a while to process it and then get back to them. IMPORTANT: You CANNOT do this passive aggressively or else it undermines the whole thing. You can't phrase it in a way that will make your friends think that you are guilt tripping them for "making" you feel a way. It is VERY tempting to do this when you are in the first stages of trying to form this habit and you simply need to resist the urge because it will render this step worthless. I know. It sucks.

If I am feeling fearful and insecure about friends or loved ones, I also usually try to spend some time thinking about the people that I love and care about. Because often this stuff manifest for me as insecurity that the people that I care about do not care about me, or that they think that I'm being annoying, or that they are secretly thinking mean things about me. It's obviously not good for me to constantly be imagining that the people in my life who I care about are actually avatars of my own insecurity who are here to tell me that I'm secretly fundamentally unlovable! But crucially also it's ALSO not fair to those people to imagine them as that. They are not that guy, they are their own complex human beings with their own lives and experiences and interiority. So sometimes I do thought exercises where I will imagine my friends or loved ones doing things in their everyday lives and I will think about them as people and I will think about the things that they like to do and the things that they say and the places that they go, and I will try to imagine them fondly in those circumstances. This helps to remind me that they are just people and that the scary puppet wearing their faces is not real. To this end I sometimes will have a document of screenshots of things that they have said to me that I can use to reality check myself. I personally find reality checks to be essential for a lot of this. Things can feel true when they are not true at all. Things can feel wrong when they are actually true. The point of most of these exercises is to gently remind myself that those feelings are normal for me to be having, but that I do not need to let them dictate my responses.

It is crucial throughout all of this that you are nice to yourself. You can't talk to yourself in a mean way while you're doing this, or you will not get to a point where you are feeling safe enough to react from a place of not-fear. You can't make yourself feel ashamed or defensive for your emotional reactions. This is the particular area where I find gentle parenting protocols helpful. You HAVE to be patient with yourself.

Ok that's all for now bc I ran out of steam but I will try to think of more to add on another day maybe. Godspeed everyone

[abbyromanoff]

Hi 👋🏻 could u write gpWanda x reader x gpNatasha where Wanda is r gf and she doesn't know how to fuck reader properly so she ask Nat for help and N fuck r while W is watching?

I'm sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language

ACQUAINTED

PAIRINGS: Wanda x reader, Wanda x Nat, Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,697

WARNINGS: therapist/patient relationship, perv!Nat, nat and Wanda have dicks, subby!Wanda, Miss (N), threesome, exhibition, voyerisum, degrading, praising, breeding, therapist!Natasha, pet names, smut (obvi), pining, cunnilingus, dry-humping (kinda), bottom!R, top!Nat, Nat treating R like an object,

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda sat on the couch with Natasha in front of her, sitting at her desk with a notebook in hand. The walls were painted a soothing gray, only adorning a few pieces of artwork. She had been seeing Ms. Romanoff for close to a year now after you suggested the idea of therapy, already having one of your own.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard I guess. I mean, I love them so much and I see myself having a future with them, but-” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and adjusting her potion. Nat hummed, waiting for a response but speaking up when receiving none.

“But, what?”

“I- I want to- well, we don’t really-” She didn’t know why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been able to tell Nat almost everything but this seemed to be different.

“Trust me, I’ve most likely heard much worse here, whatever you say is confidential and free of judgment. Just take your time.” Wanda sighed and nodded, trying to figure out the words in her mind before speaking.

“I guess I just want to spice things up, you know? And don’t get me wrong, the sex is great but- but they were the first person I’ve ever done it with. I’m just scared they’re not satisfied and it worries me to think that I’m nowhere near as good as their past boyfriends or girlfriends.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t anything serious, but it was to her. She was a giving person, all she wanted was for you to be happy and well-pleasured, she wanted to impress you. But there was nothing to show off with, she had no skills in that aspect, that’s what she thought at least.

“Okay, that’s understandable.” Nat started. “Have you ever tried, say, having a conversation with them about this? I know you’re not great with communication but maybe just asking them what are some of the things they like or maybe even expressing your worries, I’m sure they’d listen.” She knew you would, but the idea of bringing such a thing up felt uncomfortable. She didn’t hate the thought of sex, but she hated the thought of talking about it. It felt like watching a sex scene on the television with your parents right next to you.

“I know they’d listen, I just don’t know how to, like, bring it up.” Wanda watched as Natasha moved her pen gently against the piece of paper, writing something down that she wished she could see.

“Alright, well, what if you invited them to a session, possibly our next one? We can bring up our discussion and your worries and maybe it could help ease them.” She spoke with such gentleness that it always made Wanda even more nervous. You had picked up on the way she’d always come home with a blush and a small smile after her appointments, but you just assumed she was happy to see you. And she was, but that wasn’t the full reason for her expressions.

“So it would be like couple’s therapy?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll have you two both share your sides and your feelings and we go from there.” Wanda could do that, she hoped so.

The one hour ended in what seemed like a few minutes as Nat said her goodbye’s to the woman, watching her leave as her eyes trailed down to her ass. The jeans fit her ass perfectly, it was impossible to stop the biting of her lip and the long sigh.

Truth be told, she had been planning this moment for too long. She remembered when she first ever saw you, Wanda showed her the picture she kept in her wallet of the two of you holding hands that were pointed to the camera with your lips attached in a sweet kiss. Before, she had been slightly upset when finding out that her client had a partner, even with the knowledge that it would ruin her career if she did anything. But then there was you, she didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.

The moment her last client left she went searching through your accounts, using your name to find anything on you. She was embarrassed to say she had stroked herself to multiple orgasms while scrolling through both you and your girlfriend’s photos. She was beyond ecstatic about next week’s visit, she could only hope you’d agree to go.

Luckily, you did. It took a little bit of convincing, when Wanda brought the idea up to you, you were frightened that you did something to upset her, but she quickly rushed that thought out of your mind. She didn’t tell you what exactly it was for, although you assumed it would be nice. You knew Natasha was an amazing therapist, she helped Wanda with all the things you struggled to help with. You were only human, and you didn’t have a degree like Nat, but your moral support meant just as much to your girlfriend.

“Wanda?” Her head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, she quickly grabbed your hand and the two of you walked into her office. She closed the door behind you, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of your body. You were even better than the photos, she couldn’t wait.

“And you must be Y/N if I’m correct.” You nodded and shook her hand, giving her a warm smile as you removed your coat. Wanda did the same, grabbing yours and placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“So, I’m assuming Wanda has told you why you’re here?” When she looked down at her knees where her fingers rested, nervously picking the skin off of them, she knew her answer.

“Uh, not really. I was a little bit hesitant about this, but she told me there was nothing to worry about, so I’m hoping it’s nothing bad.” You shied away from Nat’s eyes, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at the woman’s clear attractiveness. You didn’t exactly know what her therapist looked like, but now you wished you had done your research beforehand. She was stunning, breathtaking.

“Well, I can assure you that you have done nothing wrong, honey, there are just some topics we’d like to approach if that’s alright with you.” You nodded and interlaced your hand with Wanda’s, giving a small squeeze to assure her you weren’t upset. She had been planning what to bring up since the moment she left last week, but it seemingly all vanished by now.

“Do you have a therapist or a counselor of your own, Y/N?” It started off with simple questions, ones that you’d expect. That was until she started asking about your relationship and prior ones too. You shifted in your seat as she continued, feeling the immense pressure with both of their eyes on you.

“Now, tell me, Y/N, do you feel satisfied with Wanda?”

“Of course, I do. She’s such a great woman and I can really feel her love, I haven’t ever had someone like her.” You could see Wanda smiling next to you and you joined her. You truly loved this woman more than anything, you wanted to marry her someday and you hoped she thought the same.

“And sexually? Do you feel sexually satisfied with Wanda?” You nearly choked on your spit from her words, nervously chuckling in hopes to redeem yourself. She noticed your expressions and tried reassuring you, holding back as best she could when she patted your knee.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, trust me. It’s normal to feel a sense of discomfort in these situations, but I promise that everything here stays confidential.” Her voice was able to soothe you and calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I’d say so, yeah. Obviously, there are some…things I’d like to try, but we haven’t approached that.” She nodded, as if she wanted you to go on. You didn’t know what to say, your words were stuck in your throat. You were experienced with the topic, but it wasn’t one you openly shared or talked about with others.

“Would you say your sex life is more vanilla than you want it to be?” You loved Wanda, you really did, but she wasn’t the greatest when it came to your intimate moments. You could feel her love through it, but you wanted to see her rougher side, you knew she was holding back on you.

“To be honest, yeah. I kind of like things to be a bit more..kinky, you know?” You could see the redness on Wanda’s cheeks and the tip of her ears as she shuffled her feet around. You felt sorry for making her embarrassed, but that’s why she brought you here in the first place.

“What would you consider kinky, darling?” Her pet name had your lips quivering ever-so-slightly before you came up with a response.

“I guess I just wish she was a bit more rough with me. And don’t get me wrong, I love that I can really feel her care for me but sometimes I just want her to, like, use me.” Nat scooted her desk chair closer to you two, placing her hand on your thigh softly. Wanda was still silent, she was probably too scared to speak up.

“You want to be used, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, feeling your eyes drift to her lips. You felt so dirty looking at her the way you did your girlfriend, but you also knew she was doing the same.

“Hm, who knew such a sweet little thing could be so dirty?” You could feel her hand rubbing small circles on your covered skin, her eyes staring deeply into yours. She trailed them over your body, taking all of you in.

“Does this turn you on, honey?” You nodded once again. “Yeah? Me touching you while your girlfriend watches, that makes you wet?” You gulped down your arousal as you felt her thumb teasing your clit through the fabric, your legs instinctively opening for more.

“Kiss them for me, Wanda; act like I’m not even here.” You looked in the brunette's direction, watching as she snuck glances between the two of you. She placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back as you leaned in for her lips to meet yours. You moaned into the kiss as Nat rid you of your pants, dragging her fingers across your panties and smiling at the wet patch adorning them. The noise allowed Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth, the intrusion causing you to groan in pleasure.

Your fingers ran through Nat’s hair, pleading her to come closer. You could feel her hot breath teasing your slit as she slid your panties to the side, small kisses being pressed against your clit.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff.” You pulled away from Wanda to catch your breath, your head resting on her shoulder. Your eyes landed on her crotch as you noticed her palming herself, her hips bucking into her hand.

“You’re such a good girl. Say, why don’t we give Wanda a little lesson, okay?” She smiled when you complied without a thought in your mind. She stood up, guiding you to join her as she removed your shirt, grinning when she took notice of your lacey bra.

“It’s Wanda’s favorite, I was going to surprise her tonight.” She huffed out a chuckle and reached around behind you to unclasp it, shuddering as it fell and you were left in nothing but your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Now I can finally get my hands on you.” She had been so desperate to be alone in her office with the both of you, she wanted nothing more than to mark you both as hers.

She led you to her desk, her kisses trailing from your neck to your chest where her lips wrapped around your hardened bud. Your back was met with the wooden table as she lifted you to sit on it, her palms lingering on your soft thighs after she guided your last piece of clothing off of you. She parted them, dropping to her knees in front of you and staring up at you with lust in her eyes.

“Watch closely, Wanda.” You looked over to the woman at the mention of her name, biting your lip with hunger as you noticed her unbuttoned pants and her hand hidden inside of her boxers. She shuddered when you cupped your breast, using Nat’s saliva to help create a small rhythm.

Nat blew a teasing breath onto your pulsing clit before leaning in, taking the bud into her mouth. She sucked delicately, soaking in your moans and twitches. She was too engrossed in your taste to take notice of her growing erection in her pants.

“Oh, you look so pretty on your knees for me, Miss.” It was clear that she was still the one in charge, but her need for you was so great, she couldn’t care if she seemed weak. Wanda, while feeling a pang of jealousy, couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in her stomach. She felt as though she would burst any second, but she was trying to hold back. Her thumb would occasionally brush over her tip, causing her eyes to squeeze shut.

“Look at me, Wands; watch me.” She pried her eyelids open willingly, nearly whining when she saw you wrap your legs around her therapist’s head. You grinded into her face as her tongue tortured your hole, diving in and out repeatedly. She groped your ass in order to push you closer into her, her nose poking at your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck- right there, yes!” You covered your mouth with your hand in order to silence yourself, becoming ashamed of how loud you were. Neither of them were complaining though, they thrived off of your noises; it brought satisfaction knowing that they were the reason you were in such a deep state of pleasure.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum.” Nat smirked into your cunt as you were brought over the edge, your head falling back and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your silent screams filled the room as Nat continued to lap up your juices, Wanda watching with the wish that she was the one tasting you. You were addicting, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. Every sway of your hips, every lick of your lips, every noise, and every word that left that sweet mouth was so alluring.

You were suddenly pushed to lie down, feeling the lumber underneath you bruise your back. You leaned up on your elbows to admire the woman as she undressed herself, running her hand through her short hair once as to fix what you tugged.

“Tell me, love, have you ever heard of breeding?” You nodded, receiving a slap to your cheek. Wanda widened her eyes at both the words and the rough contact, is this what you meant? Is this how you wanted her to treat you, like you were some no-good slut?

“Yes, Miss, I have.” She hummed, guiding her tip through your slit and gathering the wetness as a replacement for lube.

“When was the last time you ever pleaded to milk Wanda dry, hm? Beg her to slap you ‘till your skin turned black and blue? Or, better yet, when was the last time you got on your knees and asked her in that sweet little tone of yours to treat you like the dirty whore you are?” Your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, each one not feeling like it was enough.

“Never.” You shook your head as you answered, your eyes not being able to meet hers. She gripped your chin roughly, pulling you in close so her nose was practically touching yours.

“What was that?” She asked again, even if she had already heard you well enough.

“Never.” You repeated, this time louder. She clicked her tongue and shot you a disapproving glance.

“Mm, there’s always two sides to the matter. Here Wanda was not knowing what to do because you couldn’t communicate, do you think that’s fair on her?” The way she spoke, the light rasp to her voice was what caused the wetness already coating your thighs to increase.

“N-no, Miss.” She turned your head to face Wanda and she blushed in the moment you caught her. You could notice the stains now coating her boxers and the shameful look on her face; she had peaked with you. You didn’t know how you didn’t hear her, she was usually the louder one of you both. But you guessed that you were too far into your orgasm to care for anything else.

“Apologize to your girlfriend, Y/N, and tell her how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I’m sorry for not- not talking about my needs and wants when I should’ve. I’m sorry.” You stuttered over your words as you felt Nat’s cock prodding at your hole, her tip breaking way and creating a small stretch.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.” She spoke up, and for the first time this entire session, you were able to hear her voice. It was coated thickly with her Sokovian accent seeing as she had just moved here nearly eight months ago. You hoped it would never go away, no matter how long she lived in this country.

“See? You’re both already doing such a good job.” You both smiled at the praises, seeming to fish for them from the woman at bay. You sent a small ‘I love you’ to Wanda from across the room, although it was only mouthed out. Nat grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you towards her and causing her length to fill you up almost entirely. You gasped at the intrusion, crying out in pain as you clawed at the desk.

She continued to slowly lead you further, moaning to herself as your warmth clamped around her. Your tears only brought more delight to her heart, she could only grin when seeing them.

“You’ve been begging for Wanda to use you yet you can barely even take me? Aren’t you just a pathetic fucking slut.” Her fingertips ran along your face, her thumb rubbing gentle circles as a faux sense of comfort. She then brought them down to your neck, wrapping her palm around it and cutting off your airways. The only thing you could manage to get out were choked sobs and moans. The burning discomfort slowly eased into one of satisfaction as Nat slowly thrusted her hips into you, the sounds of skin clapping together ringing through all three of you guys’ ears.

“Did you know your girl likes to be choked, Wanda?”

“N-no, ma’am.” She chuckled at the title given to her. Her breasts bounced with every movement of her hips, her cock hitting your womb. There was a small yet noticeable bulge carved out on your stomach making her groan, she was so big compared to you.

“Hm, maybe in our next session we can teach Y/N a lesson too, what do you say?” She didn’t need another opinion to decide her answer, it was final. It wasn’t just the brunette at fault, you were required to voice your wants too, even if she’d have to force it out of you.

“Please-” You managed to get out when her hand removed itself from your bruising neck and found a spot on your waist, pressing down harder than before. She was practically resting her weight on top of you, causing the bone to struggle in holding her up.

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” You were close, so close, and so was she. She was forcing her body to hold back, ensuring that you were to finish first.

Wanda’s erection only grew after her orgasm, her greed making her yearn for another. You were the only one who had ever been able to make her cum, she assumed there was no better. Shyly, she walked forward, her soiled clothing still masking her bottom half. She gave Nat a look, asking for permission to which she was granted.

“Don’t ask, sweetheart, force it.” She was so used to constantly asking if it was okay to do something to your body, after all, it wasn’t her choice. Every time you’d say yes, but there was always a nagging fear that you’d not want it and she had forgotten to ask. The thought made her sick, who would ever think to do such a thing?

“They want it, Wanda. Just rub yourself against them- perfect, just like that.” She praised when Wanda held you by the back of your neck and rutted her bulge against your face, the fabric rubbing against her hard length. She whimpered when your hand came up to rub her balls, your mouth peppering kisses over her cock.

“You close, baby?” You didn’t know who she was asking, but you both agreed. You continued to gently suckle while wishing you were able to truly feel her instead of the wrinkles in her trousers.

“Ah! S-shit, cum with me.” You followed her orders and let the coil in your stomach snap as you soaked her cock, feeling her release shoot deep inside of you.

You nuzzled against Wanda as you felt her twitching, only to notice a wet patch forming on her pants. She had leaked through her underwear while itching for more, the knowledge only fueled your pride.

You mewled as Nat pulled out of you, watching as the cum dripped down your cunt, some landing on the desk while other droplets fell to the floor. She didn’t bother looking for her clothes, instead pulling the younger girl in for a kiss before doing the same with you. It was passionate, both kisses were. You could sense the longing and the emotions in it that she tried to mask, only making you chase after her lips for more once she leaned back.

“Shall we plan your next appointment then?”

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[sockatoothewafflebird]

over and over, i fuck myself over, and under and under, i do it again.

morning and evening, i felt i was grieving, until i said fuck you, and never again.

daytime or nighttime, i feel i'm on my time, but time is fickle, just like a friend.

and with my departure, from the pain i harbor, i feel i am sinking, and sailing to swim...

--

I'm worried about Ragatha.

She'd definitely be better off not looking at mirrors for a while. Even more so if she stopped reciting random depressing songs to her ceiling, for no other reason than to dig a deeper hole, to sink further down. I can hear her singing to herself every night, the same songs she plays on all her instruments. What a beautiful voice. How beautifully she plays. But, it's always so sad.

She keeps falling. Faster. Further. Her screams can't be heard anymore. And yet she never falters. How many miles - and what kind - of shit has she been through, to think this is okay? How long did it go on for, for her to think it's normal?

It's not healthy.

But she doesn't mind. Somehow. She'd break her own arms herself if it meant Zooble would stop losing their temper at her, if it meant Jax would stop terrorizing Gangle, if it meant Kinger could just remember the little things.

She's such a wonderful person. Amazing. An unstoppable ray of sunshine for anyone willing to look at her. She's the kindest person I've ever met. Even behind all that fog, she cares, maybe more than anyone. It's so sweet.

It's so easy to see she's hurting though. She hurts so much sometimes I can see her hide her tears, I can tell she deflects all the time.

If only she knew she didn't have to hide. If only she saw it. If only she knew she's more than a toy.

If only I could get through to her.

I guess I should've listened when Kaufmo said to never fall for a girl with baggage. Seeing her like this just hurts.

I hope she can figure it out. I try so hard to make sure she's doing alright, and she always insists I don't have to worry. And I can never hide how much it devastates me that she thinks I'd drop the subject so quickly, and just act like I don't care. I do care. I care so much I think i'll fucking die if she doesn't start seeing through my eyes once in a while.

God. This is the longest entry i've ever written. My hand hurts.

Goodnight, I guess. Here's to hoping.

---

my plan when i find a character i like (in no particular order):

this is how i feel about ragatha. in case you didn't notice. i love her as a character so much i just wanna put her under a damn microscope. the influence has influenced me and now i share the obsession with ragatha that mod bee from @ask-the-rag-dolly has been afflicted with.

pomni is such an observant character. and caring. and overall very smart. she can't pretend she doesn't notice all of ragatha's little lies and slip-ups.. and it eats away at her, knowing she can't do anything, knowing ragatha can't and won't accept help right now. ragatha needs to come to terms with it on her own. a therapist is what ragatha needs.

but in a video game? and in my au, in the middle of a broken world full of corporate greed and the cold, unforgiving whims of mother nature? if she found a therapist in either, it would be considered a once in a lifetime historical discovery. the school textbooks would have a chapter on it.

either way, something's up in the darkest depths of that cotton-filled brain of hers, and she's just built to think it doesn't matter. she's built to make sure everything stays nice and positive and okay. when we ALL see it's not. goddamnit ragatha i will make an oc that is a licensed therapist just so you can stop being such a sad wet dog and start practicing the art of self-partially-enjoy oh my god you sweet little door hinge

(song lyrics at the beginning are from over & over by rio romeo btw, theyre very cool pls check them out)

[useyourwordsdarling]

Hey, I hope this isn't too rude considering you already have an effing mountain of asks in your inbox, but I wanted to express my gratitude. No pressure to respond; I just hope you see it, and it makes you smile. Just read the pink out of this word salad; my kink is that I feel the need to explain my reasoning like a proper STEM idiot.

(below explaining why I'm thanking you essentially)

Probably oversharing here, but:

For the last two years or so, I've started to believe that the only men who would accept me were those that needed me as their therapist rather than a partner. I don't mean just listening to them; I mean them struggling with mental health crises and me having to pick up the pieces like the empathetic dumbass I am (and them being too scared to call the hospital). These are just the sort of people I seem to attract. As you can imagine, that did wonders for my self-worth and future perception of people who hit on me.

I already consider myself an eccentric woman. Among other things, my libido often feels insatiable. I write smut both on and off tumblr, the latter of which is some of the most nonsensical, most embarrassing, most bizarre shit I have ever written. 783 pages since 2020, the last 100 pages of which have been me realizing I have a deep-seated desire to be a cocksleeve. It's hard enough to tell people how much I care about having a healthy, passionate sexual relationship without bringing any of that into the mix.

(end explanation, TL;DR I attract shitty men and am insecure as hell about my own sexual preferences.)

All of that has made me despair on numerous occasions that I will ever get to know someone who both actually loves me and wants to fuck the absolute shit out of me.

But blogs like yours have lifted me out of that hellhole of anxiety more than once. Seeing both your own fantasies and the way you respond to your asks makes me feel like I'm not doomed to a relationship where I will have to sacrifice a large part of myself for the other person's sake. It makes me think: "People like this exist somewhere."

Thank you for being a dom that cares about your sub, and thank you for sharing on this blursed platform where I could see you.

Side (less wholesome) note: Yes, you have provided a lot of fuel for my smut pieces, and I am officially blaming you for the fact that there are now 446 fucking instances of the word "Daddy" in my most recent collection.

I appreciate how much effort you put into making this. And as another STEM idiot I love the way you made your reasoning. Also to be clear I love asks, I just have a hard time replying to many at once, but I appreciate them a lot.

And as to you attracting shitty men, I understand how exhausting and how heavy it might be the burden to carry the responsibility over someone’s mental health issues. But I think that also says a lot about your character, how you’re someone who’s really caring. Who wants to help these people, which is an amazing thing but it can be problematic if you don’t set boundaries. Which is a hard thing to do (I know because I’m bad at that…) it’s healthy to focus on your own mental health, your own problems. Especially when we have very little energy left.

And you aren’t doomed for that type of relationship I believe. And I hope you eventually find the right person who’ll love you and not make you responsible over their mess (and also fuck the shit out of you, fingers crossed). So it’s just a matter of time

Side (even less wholesome) note: I’d be lying if I said part of me isn’t curious about those 446 instances now..

[heavyhitterheaux]

On Bended Knee

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You and Jack go to a series of therapy sessions to talk about your marriage that you honestly feel in the back of your mind is going to lead to the two of you being separated and Jack is desperately trying for it not to happen

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Mentions of postpartum depression, death, and miscarriage

“So, what is bringing us in today?” Fatima, your therapist asked both you and Jack as the two of you were sitting at opposite ends of the couch in front of her.

Jack glanced over at you and you simply had your head resting on your arm as you looked straight ahead so he figured that he needed to be the one to speak first.

“We are at odds like we've never been before and I don't know what else to do. It seems like I take five steps forward and ten steps back when it comes to her. I love my wife and I can't see myself without her.” He quietly said as Fatima smiled at him and nodded. She then turned to you.

“Y/N? Would you agree with that?”

“To a certain extent, yes. But I reached my breaking point a long time ago.”

Hearing that made Jack’s heart drop.

“Tell me more.”

“The man who claims that he's my husband and sitting across from me is someone that I truly no longer recognize as far as some of his actions go. Because the Jack that I know wouldn't do those things in a million years.”

“Such as?”

“Making me feel that my thoughts and feelings are invalid. We've been together since we were fifteen years old, got married at 19, but something switched in 2022 when his fame went to an entire new level. Our relationship has been tested and I don't know if it's even worth saving at this point.”

Jack turned to look at you in disbelief because he couldn't believe that those words came out your mouth.

“Babe…”

“No. You begged me to come to therapy with you so you need to put your big boy pants on even if it's something that you don't want to hear. Because trying to talk to you at home is obviously not working. You asked for this so don't shy away now.” You told Jack as you finally looked at him. All he did was play with his wedding ring and nod before turning back to look at Fatima.

You and Jack had barely been speaking to one another and it seemed as if the arguments over little things were getting more and more frequent. You were sitting in the living room since you had just fed the triplets as Jack came and sat next to you.

You glanced over at him, but didn't speak as you turned back around to look at the TV. This was the first time you were able to have peace and quiet all day and the last thing you wanted was to argue with him again. Because at this point, you knew that the two of you were not on the same page.

“Baby?”

“What?” You said and it came out a little harsher than you intended.

“I don't want to keep fighting with you. We're on the same team.”

“Are we? Hadn't noticed since it doesn't seem like it.”

“Y/N, come on. You know we are.” He told you as he attempted to grab your hand. He was surprised when you didn't move away from him.

“Some of your actions state otherwise.”

“I want to fix this and I know you do too. I signed up for marriage counseling and we meet the therapist on Wednesday. I just…. We need to get on the same page if we want this marriage to last.”

You turned to look at him and simply sighed before crossing your arms over your chest.

“And if this doesn't work, then what?”

“Babe, that isn't an option.”

“And you didn't answer my question, Jackman. Tell me what will happen if it doesn't work?”

“I don't have an answer because I don't plan on that happening. We love each other and we’re going to get through this.”

“I'm not sure that I want to go.” You told him being completely honest.

“Can I ask why?”

“If you can't even listen to me when we're at home, what makes you think it'll be any different in therapy?”

“Y/N, you're shaking your head as Jack is talking. What are you thinking?”

“He remembers that a lot differently than I do. I told him not once, but multiple times that she made me uncomfortable, but he steadily ignored me. So much so that he actually asked her to be in his video for First Class.”

“But, you're in it, are you not?”

“Yes, only because I stopped what I was doing when I saw her post a picture of the both of them on Instagram and she was sitting in his lap.  He claimed that she took the pic so fast that he didn't even have time to react. I went to where they were shooting the video and told her to leave and made her delete the picture. Oh, and when I actually did fight her because this had been building up for months with her constantly harassing me, never not once did he ask me if I was okay. Instead he acted mean as hell towards me because the only thing he seemed to be concerned about was our reputation in the public eye and not my actual well-being. We were both at home for a few days after which ended in another argument and him leaving.”

“But you left out the part where you had talked to me the same day that it happened and said absolutely nothing and tried to hide it. I was in a whole different state when I found out and caught a flight to Atlanta to confront you about it because you had stopped answering your phone. There was no need to lie to me about that.”

“Yes there was because I knew you would lose your shit which you did when you came and saw me backstage before my show.”

“Because you could've gotten hurt!”

“Hmm, nice try. I think you meant damage your reputation because those words didn't even come out of your mouth when it happened.”

“Just because I'm mad at you doesn't mean that I want any harm to come to you. You're my wife! Why would I want you to put yourself in a situation which could lead to you getting hurt? That's what I was mad about.”

“Wouldn't have had to be in that situation if you would have established boundaries with her from the beginning. I'm your wife. We share a last name. Not her.”

Therapy had been going steady for the first three weeks and Jack simply didn't know how to feel at this point. He wasn't able to read you as of lately and had it in the back of his mind that a divorce would be coming soon and you would be the one to ask for it. 

And that made him sick to his stomach.

When you were pregnant, it seems like everything was halted and the two of you put your issues to the side. But as soon as they were born and you had healed from it, everything had come back up to the surface. It also didn't help that Jack knew you were also going through postpartum depression.

It was one in the morning and he had gone for a drive after checking on you as well as the triplets and making sure all of you were okay. He didn't have an exact destination in mind, but he simply pulled out his phone and took a deep breath before dialing his mother’s number. He was absolutely desperate at this point.

Maggie picked up on the third ring and he could tell that she was still wide awake by all of the background noise which he assumed was the TV.

“Hey honey, everything okay?”

“No.” 

When Maggie heard how distressed her oldest child sounded she immediately grew concerned.

“What's going on? Are Y/N and the babies okay?”

“They're fine, but umm…” Jack trailed off as he struggled to say his next sentence.

“But what?”

“I honestly think deep down that Y/N is going to divorce me and I… can't live without her. I haven't had to do it in so long that I wouldn't even know where to start. She's the love of my life and the mother of my kids. I can't lose her.”

“What exactly makes you think that she will?”

“We're going to therapy but there's such a huge disconnect that I don't think we'll be able to fix. She didn't have high expectations going into it so…”

“Can I be honest?” Maggie asked and took a deep breath after doing so. However, Jack had a strong feeling that he already knew what she was about to say.

“You saw this coming, didn't you?” Jack asked as he turned onto Bardstown and was casually driving throughout the city.

“Yes from a mile away. I don't know what exactly happened, but 2022 was the start of the rift being made in your relationship with each other. And I've pulled you aside a few times and warned you that how you were acting wasn't a good portrayal of the person I raised you to be or the husband that I know you are towards Y/N. That girl basically worships the ground you walk on and you used to do the same thing. The fame got to you and you were starting to achieve your goals and she was supportive of you. You didn't give her the same support in return and now look where you two are.”

“What do I do to fix this? I need her to forgive me.”

“Then you need to remind her of how much you love and care about her. Because your actions haven't reflected that you do.”

“And what if that doesn't work?”

“Then you'll be signing divorce papers.” 

“Definitely can't forget how he thought I was cheating on him and he actually followed me to see what I was doing.”

“I apologized for that. I was paranoid. I had been gone a lot and missed you.”

“What did Y/N do to make you think that she was cheating?” Fatima asked Jack as he once again started to play with his wedding ring.

“Not spending time with me like she said she would when I finally got back home and she would lie about where she was going so I followed her.”

“And what came of that?”

“She was planning a surprise party for me because First Class had done so well. And she then explained who every single person was that she had met up with. She was just trying to keep it a secret as best as she could. But the day of the party unbeknownst to me of course, I confronted her about it and the look she gave me was utter disbelief and I then knew that I had fucked up. She did show up eventually to the party and then went on her festival run and left that same night.”

“Y/N, is that how you remember it?”

“Yes, I just couldn't fathom that he thought that I would ever want to do something to hurt our marriage. I haven't looked another man's way since we started dating and I still don't. He's everything that I ever wanted and more so what would be the point of that? It just really hurt me. I have this man's name tattooed on my body for everyone to see so why would I do that?”

“I can tell by the way you're talking about it that it still hurts you.”

“It does and the thing is that I am always putting everyone else's needs before my own. I have a big heart and that has always been the case. But I feel that Jack used that to his advantage.”

“How so?”

“If he called and said that he needed me, everything else would be forgotten at that moment. It doesn't matter anymore and we can go back to it once I go and make sure he’s okay. It didn't matter that I was trying to establish a career of my own. If my baby needed me, nothing was going to stop me from getting to him. It didn't matter how big or small the issue was and he knew that.”

“Hmm, Jack, what are your thoughts on that?”

“Now that she said it out loud, I can admit to taking advantage of her as horrible as that sounds. I never want to do that to my wife. I would call her because I know that out of anyone at the end of the day she has my back and my best interest. However, I also should have taken into consideration what she was trying to do for her career at that time because I was the one who pushed her to do it and make a name for herself.” 

“And I still put people's needs before my own. It's something that I have to learn to stop doing. That also takes me back to the whole Anitta thing.”

“What about her?”

“She threatened to release a portion of our sex tape in May and Jack didn't even tell me until December. That's when I called off the wedding, when I found out he lied to me.”

“Jack, why didn't you tell her?”

“I thought I could handle it on my own and simply make it go away. I wanted to shield her from that since a lot had happened between the two of them already. Not the smartest choice since it led to us not doing our big wedding for our five year anniversary.”

“And then I went on tour and found out I was pregnant…. With triplets.”

“And told me in a text message because we really weren't talking during that time.”

Urban glanced at you as you were feeding Autumn and called your name to get your attention. He had come over to check on you because you hadn't been acting like yourself and wanted to see if there was anything that he could do to make it better.

“Lil Bit.”

“Yes?” You answered as you looked up at him.

“Are you and Jack okay?”

“Depends on what your definition of okay is.”

“I… the two of you just seem sad and out of it lately.” Seeing his best friends’ marriage crumble before his eyes was not on this year's bingo card.

“Well we started going to therapy and Jack practically had to beg me to go. I don't know, Urban. I love him and we all know that's true. But the question is if our marriage is worth saving at this point?”

“Only the two of you are going to be able to answer that question at this point. I can't answer that for either of you. But I know that Jack loves you all the same and that he's doing everything he can to show you that he deserves another chance to get this right. He doesn't want to lose you.” Urban told you as you simply nodded and adjusted Autumn in your arms.

“My thing is that it should have never come to this.”

“I agree, but what's done is done and the only thing that the two of you can do is move forward. The triplets deserve to see a happy marriage between their parents and know what real love looks like.”

As soon as those words left Urban's mouth, it got you thinking that maybe he was right. You honestly couldn't see yourself with anyone except him despite all the two of you had gone through that year.

“But so much has happened and I… just don't know anymore.”

“You know that you love him. I know that loving someone isn't the only thing you need in order to make it work but it's a good start.”

“As the two of you sit in front of me, I've heard the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to your marriage, but I know one thing for certain. The two of you undeniably love each other despite everything that has happened. Yes, there were hardships and plenty of ups and downs, but Y/N, every time you even talk Jack lights up and looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. Usually in this room, it ends up being the complete opposite because by the time that couples get to me they are too far gone.”

She glanced at both of you and it looked as if you wanted to say something.

“Y/N? What's on your mind?”

“Um, I was just thinking that because of everything that happened, I wanted to separate from him for a while.”

Jack didn't dare let you see it, but tears had pricked his eyes.

“But, I have decided not to. If he's doing all of this and trying to put the effort in then I guess I can give him another chance. Because when I had suggested going to therapy and doing things to hopefully help us repair the relationship, he just waved me off. I feel as though this was too little too late but…”

“Y/N, it wasn’t too late because the two of you are sitting in front of me. That goes to show me despite it all, deep down you still had hope for your marriage too.”

“I have three kids to think about.”

“No, that's not it. Even though they deserve to see what love and happiness looks like, you also deserve the same thing. Jack, how does that make you feel hearing that Y/N wanted to separate from you?”

“It hurts. I've been in love with her since I first laid eyes on her. I know I've messed up and I can understand why she feels that way. I wasn't treating her how she deserved to be treated and it shouldn't have taken me almost losing her to realize that. She died in front of me not once, but twice. But I had already made it up in my mind that if I became a widow, there was no way in hell that I was marrying someone else.”

“And I'm not totally innocent either, but at one point I was damn near walking on eggshells and I shouldn't have to do that in my marriage. And you could have married someone else. I would not want you to be lonely for the rest of your life.”

“No, because I would always compare her to you and when it comes to you, no one comes close.” Jack said as he turned to you and took your hand in his.

“Besides, I was also scared that you were probably going to haunt me if I did.” He told you and a small smile broke out on your face. 

“So with that being said, I have homework for the two of you. If you want to start to repair this marriage and make it work, start dating each other again. It seems like ever since the triplets have been born that the two of you actually haven't spent time with each other with just the two of you. Let me know how this goes and I honestly can't wait to hear about it.”

The night was winding down at the Kentucky State Fair as you and Jack were sharing a funnel cake piled high with powdered sugar and strawberries. The two of you rode so many different things and decided that it was time for food before it was closing time. A few people had asked you and Jack for pictures, but for the most part they were keeping their distance and you almost felt normal. You guess it was the fact that they saw the two of you out and about so often. 

As the two of you were eating, you looked at Jack and giggled, noticing that he had powdered sugar on his nose.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He asked as he pinched your cheek.

“You have powdered sugar on your nose.” You told him as you wiped it off and then kissed the tip of it making him smile.

“Did you want anything else before we leave?” He asked and your eyes lit up as you looked towards the pigs that were across from the two of you. Jack followed your gaze and his eyes went wide.

“Baby, NO.”

“But….”

“I meant food wise! We have two pigs already! And the ones over there are huge! They're bigger than me!”

“Exaggerating much? Can't I just look!? Piggy Smalls and Pork Chop need a sibling.”

“They have one in the house already as in the bacon I ate this morning.” Jack replied as he began laughing.

“JACKMAN!”

“You can look from here. Now didn't you say you wanted fried oreos?”

“Yes, but you're forgetting something.”

“What's that babe?” He asked as he fed you the last of the funnel cake and made sure to get all of the powdered sugar off of your face. 

“You haven't won me a stuffed animal yet.”

“Let’s do it then. Which stuffed animal do you want?”

“The pig since you won't let me buy another one.”

“The two of you are smiling, so I take that as a good sign.” Fatima said as she looked at you and Jack and she that the two of you were basically sitting on top of each other and nodded.

“So, the dates went well?”

“Yes, we went bowling, he took me to the state fair, and we went to Vincezo's. We also had a cooking date where we made pasta from scratch. Surprised that Jack lived to tell the tale after that one.”

“HEY! I thought I did pretty good!”

“I mean it did end up being edible so I guess.” You told him as you laughed and he scrunched up his nose.

“We've come a long way. The two of you came to me about six months ago and Y/N was ready to call it quits. And now look at the two of you. Communicating how you should and taking the time out for each other. Just because you have kids doesn't mean you two and your well being gets put on the back burner. As of now, we can continue these sessions if the two of you want, but I truly don't see a need.”

“Oh, there was another thing.” Jack started to say and Fatima looked at him to continue.

“I played her ‘Down on Bended Knee’ because I feel that it summed up the point that we were at in our relationship. I was desperate and willing to do anything for her to forgive me and make her see that she is still the only person that I want to do life with.

“That’s an amazing song choice. I know you were at a loss. Dealing with her dying in front of you, the birth of the triplets and the possibility of losing your only son, the miscarriage, Y/N working her way through postpartum depression and that isn't even all of it. But the two of you pushed through all of it with the undying love that you share between each other and I'm so proud of the both of you.”

“Now, I feel like I can finally get the big wedding that I always wanted.” You said confidently as you twirled your wedding ring around your finger not knowing that Jack had already started planning it in the back of his mind.

Jack noticed how you were looking at him as the two of you were laughing on your first date night in a while since the two of you had been so busy with everything going on around you. The triplets were with Urban and the two of you had finally finished going to marriage counseling, however, Fatima told the two of you to reach out whenever you needed her no matter how big or small. 

The two of you were still seeing your regular therapists and it was helping you communicate better with one another to set up to have a positive household environment for the triplets.

“Why are you looking at me like that baby girl?” Jack asked as he stole a sip of your iced tea and then slid it back across the table.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy.” You said while smiling back at him.

“Why, is it because I rearranged your guts this morning or? I mean I can do it again once we leave here too, it’s not a problem. Just say the word.”

“Jackman! Shut up!” You responded and continued to laugh.

“What? I was just asking.” Jack said as he shrugged.

“You want me to be honest?” You said while starting to play with the fabric at the bottom of your dress.

“Of course I want you to be honest with me. That’s all I ever want.”

“I’m trying to think of the best way to describe it.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. We have all night.”

“Loving you feels lighter.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked as he was trying to understand what you were saying.

“I just feel that before with all that we were going through, I felt a heaviness I guess I should say. Every day I woke up not knowing if our marriage was going to survive and I hated having that feeling. I wanted for us to be okay again.”

“And now we finally are. And I’m thankful that you gave us another chance.”

“I mean you got me fucked up if you thought you were getting rid of me that easily. Been together since we were fifteen and love like that doesn’t go away overnight.”

“I never want to get rid of you, you know me better than that. If anything, my love for you continues to grow every single day. It doesn’t matter if we have a bad day or not. It’s just knowing that I have you by my side makes it all worth it because I know we’ll do anything for each other and make sure that the other is okay. No matter how big or small the issues might be.”

“Okay that will be the second time you made me cry today.” You said as you could feel the tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Don’t cry, baby! I’m just being honest. I honestly don’t think there’s enough words in any language on earth that can describe how much I love you and care about you."

"Yep, now I'm crying." You said through your tears and Jack immediately grabbed your left hand to kiss the back of it as he played with your wedding ring.

"Putting this ring on your finger was the best thing I've ever done and you have my heart. Always."

[punksocks]

Warning Signs That You May Have A Toxic/Karmic Significant Other

Hey everyone, you may have seen my recent post about breaking up with my ex partner after 5.5 years. If not, I’ve been deep in reflection after ending this relationship. My reasons for ending it were that he refused to seek professional help to manage his anger which would come out in constant outbursts of violence (not physical ab*se but hitting walls, kicking furniture, scarring my dog, etc) and his mental health in general. After breaking things off I analyzed our relationship and all the red flags became crystal clear in hindsight. This blog is not only my emotional space to reflect, but also a place to give out advice to make sure you guys feel less alone in the world. So I’ve compiled a list of behaviors that made it clear that in hindsight the relationship was destine to be toxic and could not continue. It’s important to take lessons from painful experiences in order to continue to grow, and that’s what I hope I can help with by sharing my experiences here:

(TW Manipulation, Distressing Themes, Emotional Ab*se)

- They hate your intuition: (they work to make you doubt whatever means you have of self guidance. Whether that’s tarot/astrology, or spirituality in general, or therapy, or your simple gut feelings/reactions to things. They hate them because they know that they’ll be singled out at some point by them so they work to make you not believe in yourself through manipulation/gaslighting. My ex would constantly say the tarot is going to tell me to break up with him, but he never really changed he’d just belittle it and say I was getting weird about spirituality and he’d try to make me doubt myself or choose between the tarot and him. When I asked him to go to therapy he would also say that he was worried the therapist would tell him to break up with me-implying I was the problem. When I would ask him to go anyway he would find a way to avoid it- saying it’s too expensive, too hard to find, he doesn’t have time, etc)

-They constant give you advice that puts you in harm’s way: (My ex always told me I was too quick to cut off people that threw me under the bus and that I was paranoid. When I found out my former business partner was being shady and stealing from me, he told me to keep working with her. I said I had to take things over. He said I had no chance of covering the expenses on my own and that he wasn’t going to help me at all even though he was working a consistent 9-5. I rationalized this as putting too much pressure on him to support me through my apprenticeship over the previous few months, even though by the time we were having this discussion I had picked up a seasonal 9-5 to compensate for starting the business. I still felt guilty because I was asking him to cover the rent at home while I built this business up. I ended up wracking up debt over trying to cover everything myself and he was telling me I was going to fail every step of the way. When I didn’t fail and the business remained open over a year later, he said he had always believed in me every step of the way.)

- They rewrite history (that’s the other thing- when I broke up with him he said it was his idea to open the studio in the first place. This was a lie. A bold one at that. At the time I would have had to become self taught due to dealing with several egotistical mentors (wow thematic) and I looked for positions in other studios and there were none. My ex told me I should “pause” my goals. I told him I’ll open up my own space with another artist. He had a long talking down to me about how we couldn’t afford any of that, and how impossible it was, etc. But I went through with it anyway, effectively doing all the work on my own. He constantly told me what I was doing was crazy. But I made success out of it, thank God. Now my ex is trying to take credit for the whole thing as if I don’t remember what happened. Audacious.)

- Instead of having their own dreams they focus on wearing yours down (I have so many big dreams I want to accomplish and every other idea I shared with my ex was pushed back on or breadcrumbed. I wanted to live abroad, he’d say it’s too expensive but maybe he could find a way to make it work if I stopped putting so much pressure on him. I took over my own business, he told me I shouldn’t do it and should quit while I’m ahead. He would always try to counter every idea I had with a “logical reason” of why it wouldn’t work. He would try to control me by doubting me and in turn trying to get me to doubt myself. I never actually listened to him in hindsight, and when I pushed through successfully he would pretend to have been on my side the whole time.)

-They always compare you to their exes, in bold ways (My ex would always go out of his way to bring up his past relationships. The examples and instances were never appropriate. But one of the first worst early examples was when we were at a show. My friend’s band was playing. In the middle of the set he decided to look up his ex on social media. I was clearly uncomfortable but he continued. Then when we’re talking he brought up a nickname she used to call him that was inappropriate. When I was upset by this he threw a shirt (merch gifted to him by my friend’s band) in the booth almost hitting me with it and he stormed off. He made himself seem like the victim in a situation where he was trying to bait me into starting a public argument and yet made me soothe him afterward.)

- The betrayal of not ever being believed (early on this was another giant red flag in hindsight. I’m black and I tried to explain colorism to him, while I was having a bad experience with it. He’s white and should have been listening and understanding with open ears. Instead he tried to argue me down for being “mean” to light skinned black people. In the experience I was talking about how a mixed femme at work established a boundary with our white bosses to try to avoid racist harm. They let the femme do this without any pushback. I tried to establish the same boundary in the same meeting and those white bosses accused me of actively refusing to do my job. I told my ex this was colorist and that’s when he argued with me about this. He didn’t believe my experiences until he googled “the right articles”. When I brought this up in the future he would say he was just trying to see all black people as equal. It was a pretty disgusting defense.)

- Throwing insults in your face about past trauma (I told my ex about how emotionally abusive my mother was (wow there’s that pattern again) and he would throw this in my face and blame me or compare me to her at the slightest provocation in several arguments. When I was disrespected at work, he would blame me for misinterpreting things. Complaining about how I used him for money whenever I had asked him for help managing the business’ expenses. And so many deep cuts of things he should never said to me and names he shouldn’t have called me if he ever cared about me. He always wrote it off as me misremembering or him meaning it as something else or a distraction tactic of whataboutism -‘what about when you complained that I left dirty clothes on the floor?’ For example. All ways he tried to manipulate me from seeing this pattern of messed up behavior. Every argument he would make us talk in circles until I would have to give up from frustration and exhaustion.)

-They’re full of hot air, and if they seem like they aren’t they’re probably mirroring you (when I broke up with him I stopped hanging out with him pretty much immediately. Although I had to coordinate moving out still, I started keeping my head down to focus on my work. Essentially I had already moved on. I thought we had had deep discussions about the world and life but when I had less to say he had nothing to add. He would just keep filling up the air with anecdotes about nothing and commentary on anything just to keep crossing my boundaries and to try to force me to pay attention to him when it was clear I neither interested or comfortable doing so.)

- They try to force you to become as cynical and jaded as they are (I was never antagonistic per se, but when we were together I had unconsciously started looking/preparing for the worst in every scenario and every person I’d meet. Because of my ex’s toxic influence. Getting along with coworkers? They must be just “kissing up to you” according to him. Like that tv show most people are fond of? No way that has to be trash. Want to try something new? No there can’t be anything good about that. He was a very stuck person that refused to find the joy in almost anything. Unless it was too impressive to ignore —but even then he had to nitpick it apart. I would wonder why his compliments would feel so hollow- it was because he really had trouble seeing the good in anything. Like a day or two after we broke up I was already feeling lighter and more optimistic. When people were kind to me I embraced it easier and in turn every aspect of life got a little brighter. The contempt for others was palatable. Because he expected everyone to be ready to undercut him like he was ready to do to them.)

- Before you know it, they’ll have you romanticizing breadcrumbing behavior (I asked my ex to get on meds for his mental health and to find a therapist so many times over the course of 5 years. 4-5 months before I broke up with him he got on medication. Then after a peace period of a month or so, we were back in a cycle of petty arguments and he was saying the meds don’t work. He didn’t even try to go to therapy until I broke up with him. he got an appointment the next day because he “was trying to win me back” Essentially, he’d never work on himself or actually actively improve things. He’d always make one or two half steps to placate me then complain about how it was too hard and completely impossible to put the work in. Even with the therapy example, he wanted to display that he could make progress in order to win me back. Don’t worry, I had seen this tactic before and knew he would just fall back into toxicity. So, it didn’t work.)

- When you do leave they get cocky about how you’ll have nowhere to go (I leaned on my ex to support me when I became overwhelmed by figuring out my business on my own. I worked several temp jobs in addition to the business but it was stretching me thin. So I needed his help several times and only had so much saved up by the time I broke up with him. After begging me to take him back the entire night and pretending to be supportive, the next day he was scoffing and boasting about how “[he] didn’t even know what [I] was going to do.” He did this over everything from buying my own detergent-even though I always bought the detergent- to managing my bills on my own-even though I usually managed most of my bills on my own- until I finally was able to move out and leave him behind.)

- They never defend you and always make it seem like it’s your fault if you get attacked (My ex was always siding with abusive people and gaslighting me when I noticed that behavior. As many of you may know, my mom was a terror throughout my childhood. I confided in my ex about how much of an impact this had had on me. Before I went no contact with her we all got dinner when she came in town to see me. Despite all my warnings and preemptive begging to be supported through the difficulty of meeting with her my ex threw me under the bus immediately. He laughed at her jokes at my expense and didn’t stop her at all from singling me out. I shutdown in this moment and began to draw to cope- I’m neurodivergent so that’s one of the things I default to doing when I’m overwhelmed. They continued to make fun of me together and when I asked him why he didn’t have my back afterward, he blamed me for “not being friendly enough” and “not interacting with [my] mom enough”. This pattern of doubting and failing to help me would continue through our entire relationship.)

- They’ll have -self aware- moments that aren’t quite what they seem (I truly cannot count the number of times my ex would start an argument just to talk me in circles then try to get me to believe I was in the wrong too. It was truly maddening. He would always push to say he “understood” how we had gotten there. Then ramble on and on and on saying that I was attacking him and he was the victim of things. I asked him to do the dishes? I’m “criticizing [his] housework and putting too much pressure on [him]”. I ask him not to throw things when he’s upset? I’m “overly criticizing [him] and making [him] so anxious he can’t help but hit things”. And on and on and on it went. He would always tidy it up by saying he forgave me because we were “both wrong” and he just “would try to be better next time and [I] should too”.)

-They have underlying personality issues that need to be addressed (and when you bring a hint of these up, they lash out about how you’re attacking them and they throw personal attacks back at you because of their fragile ego. If you -somehow- get them to see a mental health professional you may find them lying about what feedback they got. After I broke up with him he said he’d go to anger management class and find a therapist “to win me back”- funny how it’s after you leave them and set the ultimate boundary they do the work to show you they can hypothetically change and it’s never one of the times you’ve begged before in the midst of madness. Before I moved out I overheard his therapy appointment and she asked about his bipolar diagnosis and he said he was just anxious despite the mood swings. When he came to me to tell me the good news of him finally going to therapy he left that out. When I asked if the therapist knew if he had another disorder he manipulated that. He said the therapist asked if it could be anything else but it was just a brief thought. He framed it that way instead of the consistent behavioral issue it was.)

- Usually they attract drama and chaos but blame you for it as their partner (He always kept his ex around in boundary crossing ways. In hindsight I wouldn’t be surprised if he had cheated in any way with any of them because of how murky he was about spending one on one time with them. They also will always encourage you to keep other toxic people in your life so they can keep flying under the radar/blaming the other toxic people when you feel drained/etc. When I decided to go no contact with my parents, he second guessed me. When I decided to go no contact with my friends that were harmful, he second guessed me. He went out of his way to call me paranoid and picky and every other name in the book he could. Even after I broke up with him he went out of his way to tell me I was paranoid and should quit tarot reading “because [he] knew it would turn [me] against [him] one day”. I told him his opinion meant less than nothing to me.)

- Whenever you set a boundary they try to undermine it and take it as an attack (When we met, all of my ex’s small circle of friends was made up of people he had dated or slept with. Once his friend, who had flirted with him multiple times, asked to stay in his apartment while she moved out of her place. He offered her his bed. She even had a boyfriend at the time but she went to my ex first. I told him this made me very uncomfortable. He screamed and yelled about how he’ll always choose his friends first and I have to understand that and that she didn’t want to sleep in his bed while he was in it. It was crazy but the whole time he called me dramatic and made me feel insane for being so uncomfortable with it.)

- They may often act out in public over the littlest things (my ex would get absolutely infuriated when there were lines in places. Insane right? Especially living in cities? with other people? And yet whenever we went out I’d have to prepare my mental for the possibility of him getting angry and breaking down because people were waiting ahead of him in line. In hindsight the entitlement he had was overwhelming in itself. The last time we went out to a movie -which was a whole scheduling fiasco in of itself with him during our entire relationship, he was obsessed with movies. I like movies but spending 6-9 hours in a theater? Every week? On top of hours of mandatory movie viewing at home? It was exhausting. He also made me pay for my own monthly movie pass even though it was his thing. Even in covid, although I’m immunocompromised I had to negotiate with him to wait to get vaccinated before he went back to the theater. And to wear a mask in the showings. He would huff and fuss about those small courtesies the entire time. Anyway the last movie we went out to see had a long line but we bought tickets ahead of time. He pitched a fit and kept storming off away from me and threatening to leave over the line. I kept following him foolishly, and coaxed him into staying. Of course there were enough seats and of course he enjoyed the movie. He apologized after for “getting overwhelmed by the line” but that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.)

- It’s all or nothing for them but breadcrumbs for you (I’ve always been clear that I have no plans of staying in the country I’m from. From the start I’ve understood I’m not meant to stay here. And yet I stayed in a city I hated so he could suddenly finish his associates degree. We moved back to my hometown but we lived in the most stressful neighborhood because he “wanted to be downtown with a pool.” He would always complain about every single idea I had to leave the country. I’m thinking about doing a language school or artist residency? He “did long distance with [his] ex who cheated and it would be too hard”. I want to study this language and go to this -easy-place for a visa? He “kept forgetting to study and had no idea how we would ever afford the move.” And on and on it went until I simply gave up on trying to get him to step up.)

- They twist everything to be about them even grief (my grandma was like a mother to me, so it hit me hard when she died. She even told me she was going and thanked me for my friendship at the end. It was still a very difficult period and I couldn’t accept it until it just happened. When I got the call and burst into tears my ex said “I’m so sorry… do you blame me because we stayed here for me to go to school and you couldn’t be home with her?” It hadn’t even been 20 minutes since I learned she was gone. The extent of his selfishness would shock me until I cut him off.)

- They make you bury things they don’t like about your self expression/goals (I’ll use a simple example. I love fairy lights. When we met I had fairy lights and my ex had no complaints. But when we moved in together they ‘would always bother him and give him headaches’. So I took out the lights. Then he got me a glowing lamp I wanted for my birthday but never allowed me to turn it on when we were in the room. I brought the lights I love to my work and my ex would complain about them there too. He’d say he didn’t know why he “just didn’t like spending time at the studio” and then use the lights as an excuse, and then hed complain all day about how exhausting it was to be there. He’d only offer to come to the studio more if I turned them off just for him. All this time later and all of a sudden I don’t have any lights I like up. This didn’t happen for everything, but there were a lot of little things he was so controlling about just to be authoritative about something I liked.)

- They hate it when you have positive things happen to you (and instead of seeing your success as a good thing they see it as you one upping them, so they often express jealousy and then disguise it as a joke. He would “joke” about how I was going to fail so often I lost count. When I had a great day there would always be a hint of disappointment in his voice. He would always undermine it in anyway he could. “Oh you made X amount that’s nice, but that’s not enough to cover the rent”. I got a lot of compliments on my outfits, so he’d say “no one ever compliments me”. Always something to bring me down and try to get me to focus on a worry.)

- They downplay your trauma (I’m a burn survivor. My dad burned me through hot water and neglect as a baby on around 20% of my body. For that and many other reasons I became sort of a local legend for my time in our local child protective services. In a city of well over a million people. Doctors thought I wouldn’t be able to walk again and it was a miracle when I did. My grandmother had to wrap my scars everyday, twice a day for 3-4 years afterwards. She would tell me the pain would make me cry random throughout the night until I went to kindergarten. All that to say, my scars had a BIG impact on my health and my life. When I told my ex about my insecurity he said “sorry that happened, but it’s not that big of a deal.” Crazily at 21 I took that as flattery. It was not, it was severely downplaying the trauma I went through because my ex didn’t care for that part of my life. I even remember thinking I should tag a post as a burn survivor and he said “isn’t that like advertising your burns, why warn people about it?”. I got better and embraced my scars all through my own healing but damn it was all severely fucked up.)

- They usually have a Fatal Flaw they try to make you contend with (My ex had explosive anger where he would hit something (a wall, the couch, his desk, etc) or throw things at any slight provocations, and he would disguise it as a reaction of low self esteem instead. I didn’t realize how bad the conditioning had got until I broke up with him and I wasn’t getting jumpy from him coming home anymore or my dog wasn’t hiding from him anymore. I was walking on eggshells all the time and I only knew it subconsciously. He would also curse at me and call me the meanest names from the smallest arguments, he would get belittling. It’s their signature style to make you feel small and to desensitize you to truly nightmarish behavior.)

- That’s the other thing- most people and sometimes animals can tell they’re off (I would always wonder why my ex never seemed to make a good impression on others. They could tell he was off from the start.)

- They start trying to love bomb you after you give up or when they sense you are finally giving up (I always asked my ex to pay more attention to my business/endeavors/art/etc when we were together, to respond to texts I sent him at work-within reason-, to give me some support or feedback. His replies were always blasé. “That’s nice.” Or “I will.” As soon as I broke up with him. He was complaining that he always missed texting me at work. Then he started getting more involved on my social media pages. Then for the first time in months he watched my story on Instagram completely unwelcomed and unprompted. It was how fake the performance of interest was that really struck me after everything.)

- They always ask for one more chance when you’ve given them at least a hundred chances (Evem when I broke up with him he kept saying “you cut off other people (for being toxic) but I never thought it would be me!” I feel like I’ve already put plenty of examples of this, so I’ll just say this points to the fact that at their base motivation they don’t really respect you or care about you. If someone actually cares about you, they’re going to go out of their way to make you comfortable, to care about your opinions and feedback, from the very start)

- Even when it’s over, they still always try to blame you for their bad behavior. (My ex painted himself as an introvert when he was in a relationship. I had always asked him to make -newer, healthier- friends and to make a social effort. Since the beginning. After we broke up he made an effort to go out to social events. After he went out one day he came back and said “I was such a girlfriend guy, I never went out and socialized!” In turn I said you’re not a girlfriend guy you never cared about what I had to say, if you were a girlfriend guy I wouldn’t have had to break up with you for literally never taking me into account. So that ended that.)

- When it’s over the relief hits you in waves (I didn’t even realize how much I was doing to cope with the hostility and boredom of the relationship until it was over. I stopped overeating, I actually lost my appetite for days. I went from taking edibles every week to not even craving the ones I had. I wasn’t the most indulgent but I was shocked by how immediately I was fine with going cold turkey. My time with myself became even more peaceful. Even before I moved out, I was more creative and productive. I felt the beauty and the optimism of all the little moments deep in my spirit and my glow was brighter than ever before. My ex kept turning to me in despair and asking “how can you be so okay with this??” I answered him indifferently because he wasn’t worth entertaining. But obviously my spirit had been restored, I wasn’t wasting love on anyone that didn’t deserve it anymore. My energy was finally all mine. And I had faith in God that everything would be alright. And it was.)

You slowly but surely realize that you were formed to be a victim of a narcissistic/antagonistic person due to being raised by narcissistic parents and in an environment full of enabling emotionally and verbally abusive behavior. When we met I was so vulnerable. I had moved to a new city on my own, I was in a financially precarious place. The city was The Worst for Black people (tm). I was so desperate for an ally, I caught an energy vampire instead. I’ve healed and learned a lot from this. To be much more deliberate about who I let into my life. To be unafraid of purging and moving on when someone shows you they’re incapable of growth. To not accept crumbs of affection and appreciation. To pour my love into myself first before I let anyone else do the same. So I write all this to say, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that some people are so corrupted to the core that they’d rather destroy you than heal themselves. So… forgive yourself for this experience. Forgive yourself for being a person that just loves and cares about others. That believes in cultivating a world full of warmth and compassion. Don’t let one (or a dozen- ugh the people I’ve had to move on from oml) toxic ass person ruin you and your compassion. I had to forgive myself for believing in a lot of disappointing, inept, bad people. But I won’t stop being kind and compassionate because of those losers. I’ll continue to shine my light on those who need it whenever I’m supposed to. I mean I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rely on anyone again without fear of their self interest but one step at a time, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Anyway, wish me luck on this fresh start. Buy a reading if you want to support me. But yeah, thanks for reading y’all.

[peachesofteal]

I don’t think I have ever been so struck by a piece of writing as I was by “Light On”

Just in case you do respond to this, I’m going to put a trigger warning here because I am going to talk about losing loved ones. So if that makes you or anyone uncomfortable, please, please stop reading now okay? Take care of yourself first.

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

15 months ago I lost my husband and my parents - they were killed by a drunk driver in a car crash. I thought the whole thing was a sick joke at first when I got to the hospital. It’s really weird how our brains just like, try to protect us from reality… idk. Anyway, I went completely mute for 3 days. I physically couldn’t speak. My whole life fell apart in the span of an hour and I think my brain did what it could to keep me from processing that. At least that’s what my therapist said.

I am extremely fortunate to have a couple of girlfriends that did absolutely everything for me while I had to plan their funerals. I felt absolutely nothing the whole time. All of the feeling, screaming, sobbing and smashing shit came the night I had to bury them. My best friend had her husband pack my stuff that night and I lived with them for a year.

I ended up meeting a special forces soldier when I stopped by the tattoo shop my husband went to 8 months after he died. He had gotten a really fuckin cool “V for Vendetta” half sleeve a few months before the accident.

The guys name was Tom and I truly believe he brought me back to life. It took me a while to tell him everything & I tried to push him away after. Similar to Simon, he wouldn’t let me.

We aren’t dating - I’m just not ready for that yet and he knows it and respects it. But honestly, reading “Light On” gave me a little bit of hope that one day I’ll be ready again. I know I’ll never heal completely. Most days I still feel the gaping hole of loss that comes with losing anyone you love, but I’m holding out hope that one day the hole will start to close - at least a little.

Your story gave me hope. And to anyone and everyone who has read this whole ridiculous, trauma dumping ask, hug your loved ones a little tighter for me tonight. I would give anything to hug my parents again. I would give anything to kiss my husband one more time. I know I’ll get to one day when it’s my time, but until then, please do that for me if you can.

Thank you, Peach. I hope your days are filled with magic and love. Thank you for your stories. You’re one hell of a writer❤️

Hi

I’m so sorry for your loss. I know condolences are nothing in the face of such tragedy but I still offer them to you, with the whole of my heart. I am so, so sorry.

Grief, to me, is something that never leaves. It never fades it just… changes. It becomes a part of you, but as time passes, I find it to be… less sharp, but never less poignant. (Not saying that will be your experience.)

I know you’ll always carry your grief, your loss, but I hope one day its weight becomes less heartbreaking, even by a fraction.

I’m beyond myself thinking that something I wrote could give you hope. I’m so happy you’ve found someone who has been able to bring some life back into your days. I hope you’ll be ready again one day, if that’s what you feel is right for you, and I’m glad there could be someone at your side who is patient, understanding and steadfast.

I wish I could give you a hug, or scream with you, or cry with you. I hope I can continue to bring a little bit of hope to your life 🩵

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Please can I have a little crumblet of my hubby in therapy 😭🥰

You can have an entire snippet!! 💕💋

“Would you like to talk about these bad experiences?”

“Not really.”

He realizes he’s coming off as rude, and gruffly adds with a shrug: “There’s nothing to talk about. It was a bad experience.”

You look at him now, mirroring the up and down glance he just gave you, and he starts to shake his leg. An involuntary action that tells you he feels like this situation resembles an interrogation. When your gaze slowly drops to his boot bouncing in the air under that chair, it stops.

He doesn’t like it that he got caught being slightly nervous. He makes it clear that he knows what you just did, that you were evaluating him just with your stare, and that he doesn’t like it one bit.

You could almost swear from this little scenario alone that Simon Riley has a background that includes some form of torture.

You scribble another word on your notebook.

Hypervigilant. Suspicious?

“Do you have nightmares?”

“Sometimes.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

He takes a longish pause, directs those vigilant eyes to the floor for a moment. The leg gives another shake, then another shake.

“The regular. Trapped inside a crashed vehicle or plane. Can’t get out and then I wake up feeling like I can’t get air.”

You put it up: regular nightmares about suffocating to death.

“Then there’s the occasional dream where I strangle women.”

You pause in the middle of writing, then quickly return to what you were doing.

Okay... Okay. Nothing too unusual, you can do this. You try to keep your breaths long and even as you raise your stare and your professional compassion to him.

“Would you like to elaborate more on that?”

He huffs a dark, short chuckle.

“No. But I guess I have to.”

He thinks he has to tell you about his nightmares about hurting women only because that’s far more concerning than the occasional dreams of being caught in a death trap. Or then he wants you to say it’s ok and that they are only dreams.

You draw a breath, but it's he who speaks first.

“I would never hurt a woman in real life.”

You tilt your head, this time with genuine compassion. It’s simply the human in you: the woman in you. One of your whimsical new age friends said you're a wounded healer and that you should be careful before you start mothering another emotionally unavailable, broken man. That you ought to date someone sensible for once.

You fight the urge to shake those thoughts off – you’re not planning to date this man. You can’t date your clients, it’s the first rule of being a therapist. Well, perhaps not the first, but still, you’re not here to save–

“Don’t know what to do with those dreams. It's just… Is wha’ it is.”

You take another deep breath. “How does it–”

“Make me feel?” He huffs. It’s not what you were going to ask, but you’re pleased to see he’s being co-operative. In his own way.

“Disgusting. Makes me feel disgusted with myself.”

“These are just dreams. As long as you don’t make them reality, they’re just dreams.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Your lips draw into a thin line, and you can’t help yourself from scribbling another thing down.

Arrogant.

“What did I do now?” He asks, trying to direct the conversation elsewhere. Or then he’s genuinely curious. What was it in his Yeah, I know that was so telling, so monumental? You notice that you’re smiling softly as you draw him back to the session in hand.

“How have you dealt with these feelings of shame and disgust?”

He blinks.

“Guess I haven’t. What would doctor suggest?”

“I’m not a doctor. But I would suggest you introduce yourself to mercy every time you have these nightmares.”

“Mercy,” he repeats, a bit flabbergasted. His voice lacks the commanding, rough tone it usually has when he knows he’s one step ahead.

“Yes. How does that feel?” You could hit yourself on the forehead for using such a cliche line. You continue before he gets to return it all back to you with a jab. “Does the word mercy incite anything particular in you?”

“I dunno. Haven’t found it useful.”

His answer is typical for a soldier and a commander of his team. But you see that you’ve at least planted a seed. The word mercy will probably be on his mind even when he goes to sleep tonight.

“And why is that?”

“It’s a luxury I can’t afford,” he shrugs nonchalantly. A tough world view, as was expected, and you move on to the question everyone either hates or loves the most.

“How would you describe your childhood? Your relationship with your mother and father?”

He gives a short laugh. “That didn’t take long.”

“Some of these questions might seem unimportant right now but I hope you would answer them nonetheless. Could you do that for me?”

The last line is not your usual go, but with this client, you have a hunch that a little bit of charm might go a long way. And you just can’t help yourself. Of course, the results are immediate.

“Sure, miss,” he drags every syllable like he’s tasting champagne on his tongue. “Childhood… Not a very happy one. Father was a drinker. Cheated on my mum.”

[fatetainted]

Clearing the air here though I'm genuinely afraid for my own safety to.

I didn't block @whitexdove "for no reason" and if they had an ounce of self awareness they would know they were an abusive, manipulative person who drove me to attempt suicide because "it's been a week now" and I "need to stop being so negative all the time." If I didn't respond to their messages they would ask me if I hated them or tell me I was ignoring them or I was making their paranoia worse so I would update them that I wasn't in a headspace because I was having a breakdown or a meltdown and would look later. Because of this they accused me of making their anxiety worse and I needed to get over it because I was having a very bad week with my life falling apart. I nearly killed myself because of years of manipulative abuse and them telling me to just get over it when I was suicidal.

But they've been suicidal for years and I was meant to comfort them every time and several times now they have threatened to cut me off multiple times over the most minor, insane little things. Instead of actually communicating what was wrong and how they felt they made essentially a break up playlist blaming me entirely and told me to listen to it to see what I did wrong and the only fault they would ever take was that they didn't say anything sooner. But suddenly when everything was fine again they would ask when I would send them a gift I bought them. However they had essentially convinced me we were over to the point where I grieved the friendship and returned the gift because I had no use for it anymore.

They hide behind mental illness and autism as if that excuses them being abusive to me and the things they've said to my friends. They blame my BPD for blocking them when it's their own actions and I'm sick of your annoying pity parties.

For years they have emotionally abused me and for years my therapist has been telling me they're not a good influence on my life and she was correct. I developed a THC and xanax dependency because they caused me so much anxiety with their abuse that I could not speak to them without using both daily (and of course, if I didn't speak to them or tell them why I wasn't going to be, they would tell me how paranoid I was making them, but if I DO tell them then I'm being too negative and ignoring their boundaries)

They were ALWAYS setting unreasonable boundaries and I bent over backwards to accommodate. Blocking them is my boundary. And now they're fishing for attention and sympathy for a situation they caused themselves and to drag me back into their abusive cycle.

In addition to this they would say very shitty things about my other friends that actually treated me well and tried to manipulate them into not only making them a LOT of free art but making the character details and backstory (which is a very similar thing they got mad at another artist for!). Most of my friends didn't even like them and were being cordial because I was their friend.

They are now refusing to remove characters based on my original work and flipping out on my friends for no reason other than jealousy and pettiness. Stop plagarizing me, stop claiming you just added to my lore when you added NOTHING and nearly everything is based on my ideas, including Dreameater who is literally the twin of my oc in my original work. And Caelum who is the brother of another oc of mine in my universe. You said you "won't throw away characters you worked hard on" but you have no lore that isn't mine and barely ever spoke of these characters or developed them. You added nothing to this universe or these characters. Don't you EVER use the design I made for the alien species (that is my lore and not yours!) again. It's no longer yours and you can have back that mime design you gave me, I truly do not care. But if you don't listen to me now then by your own logic I can bring back those ocs I made in your universe and I will use them because I worked "so hard" on them.

Before you pull the "I'm younger than you, how can I be manipulative?" Like you did before when you had a major fall out JUST like this (and yes! You also force shipped with me and guilt tripped just like you did with her!) Anyone of any age can manipulate someone else of any age. Just because you're younger doesn't make you the victim.

Stumpy. You are a toxic person the refuses to seek out ANY form of help and expected me to play therapist for you all the time but God forbid I need someone to listen and you expected me to accept how terribly you treated me forever. That's why I left.

You identify with and project heavily onto a character who has canonically killed her entire school and drugged her crush to get him to like her and you ship them despite the clear sexual assault and how canonically abusive and terrifying her obsession with him is. She's a genocidal white savior and that's fucking terrifying. Even more so terrifying is the way you joked about how you kill your rats and feed the dead rats to raccoons. And the fact you fetishize trans men being pregnant, it's a very clear very gross fetish you cannot let go of and forced on me constantly. The fact you seem to fetishize sexual assault and rape and ship people like that with their victims is vile. The way you talked about sleeping next to me in the same bed was disturbing as I look back on these things and I truly don't trust you to have not done things while I was unconscious. I have that little faith in you because of how you act and fetishize things.

You also told me you were going to whitewash a canon poc character and it's okay because it's you doing it. Genesis is Asian. He isn't white. You drew my Japanese character with yellow skin. You white knight in public but you're shitty to any race that isn't Korean or Native American.

For the record, I don't hate you. But I'm happier without you in my life and I don't feel anything for you anymore because of your own actions that broke our relationship irreparably. You're a toxic, vile person and completely self centered and extremely possessive.

Get help. And stop playing the fucking victim.

Allow me to return the favor. I take accountability for not saying anything sooner even though with your unreasonable boundaries and constantly telling me you're suicidal that I could never bring it up with you or any bad thing you were doing to me because you would probably kill yourself if I upset you.

Now you take accountability for your actions and deal with the consequences of abusing me.

You literally never loved me, you just miss having someone love you so much you didn't have to love them back (which you pretty much told me several times you were incapable of even with your own family).

Good riddance. Thanks for the memories even though they weren't so great. I truly will not be returning to this blog so don't bother trying to contact me here or anywhere else. I'm done.