#processing emotions varies and I could talk for hours about why each kid would respond these ways

[brucewaynehater101]

Overwhelming Emotions HC: Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian

TW: dissociation, panic attacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Tauma, upbringing, culture, parenting, and experiences will have varying effects on how one processes and expresses emotion. Not all coping methods will be healthy or deemed socially appropriate. Here's my hc on how their circumstances affected how they deal with overwhelming trauma.

Tim is used to locking down his emotions. When it gets to be too much, he literally shuts down. He'll stare at walls for hours as time passes, be unable to move, and experience difficulty with speaking

Jason has panic attacks. He isolates himself, breaks things, and mentally spirals for hours if not days

Dick will fly off the handle with rage, clutch his hair as he rocks back and forth, and cry hysterically

Damian will flip between intense anger and dissociation. He will either lash out, or he will slip into depersonalization not being fully aware of his own body

[13-reasons-ideas]

Finding Peace in Another Part 17

I’m so sorry for the break you guys. Life got in the way and then I had writers block because Monty was being a cranky cranky man and not giving me any information as to what was going on in his head. This chapter went differently than I expected but it turned out really well I think. TW: discussion of the aftermath of death and suicide. Please note the ways of dealing with death in this chapter are from my personal experience and they vary from person to person. Feedback is appreciated. Much love!

Word count: 2640

I met him at home after school and we spent a relaxing hour or so making dinner, joking around with each other. It was nice that after the last few days, we were able to fall back into the lighter side of our relationship. From the way he wrapped his arms around me when I stirred the pots and pans to the soft hip checks while we prepped ingredients, we seemed to be falling back into our usual habits. Our silence was once again comfortable rather than tense and awkward as it was this morning.

I deliberated when to bring up dinner with Scott while we cooked as well as when to ask what Zach had said to him earlier. As we sat down to eat, I decided to broach the Scott topic first and deal with his temper rather than have a civil conversation and then rile his temper again. I began cutting my pork tenderloin as I again deliberated how to best broach Scott and my plans for tomorrow evening. He took another bite and I decided to take my chances at that moment, “hey so this morning Scott walked me to class and we made plans to go for dinner at Rosie’s after practice tomorrow.” I said casually. Monty coughed slightly before he took a second to ensure what he heard is in fact what I said. His face set into a blank stare.

“Why? And when exactly were these plans made?”

“Because he asked me, and I want to go. Like I said, this morning when he walked me to class. You were cooling off and talking to Zach about stuff.” I replied in a bored tone while I pushed my food around.

“Do you know why he asked you Becks? Did you consider my feelings when you agreed?”

“Uh, I guess because he can?” I replied, trying to keep my tone in check. I ignored the latter question, which he didn’t seem too pleased with.

He sighed before responding again, “Well did you? Or do you not remember when we talked about if we are exclusive?” His tone was beginning to become clipped again. Jeeze. Its dinner. Its sandwiches for crying out oud.

“I remember, yes. What I don’t remember is agreeing to not see people of the opposite sex outside of school. Which, might I add, you don’t seem to have an issue with when it’s Tony or Justin and Clay. You don’t even comment when I go to Alex’s place anymore. What makes Scott so different?” I knew I was egging him on but at this point I didn’t care.

“Because Becca, it’s Scott. He’s my best friend.” He told me, as if that explained anything.

“So? He’s my friend too. It’s just dinner Monty, it doesn’t mean anything.” I countered.

“Does he know that?” He asked, his brow arched. So that’s what this is about.

“Yes Montgomery, he does. Besides, I think he’s beginning to suspect something is going on between us. If he’s your best friend, do you really think he would make a move if he even suspected there was something going on between you and I?”

He made a noncommittal sound and was silent as he ate for a moment. His silence only intensified my annoyance. “You know, I only told you because it’s courtesy. I didn’t have to tell you at all.” I told him shortly. He dropped his fork and looked at the ceiling shaking his head.

“That’s not the point Rebecca. You really don’t think Scott has a thing for you? Because he does. We talked about you before you and I became a thing.”

“Okay? Well I have some news for you. If I was interested in Scott like that, I would be with Scott. But I’m not interested him like that. I’m interested in you Monty. I like you.” I huffed. He sighed but did not continue. “I thought you would be happy I’m trying to get to know your friends. I don’t think Scott would make a move or anything if he suspects we have a thing.”

Monty was silent for a while as we ate, the only sound was the metallic scrape of our cutlery against the tempered glass plates.

The silence was beginning to get to me, so I decided to be the bigger person and apologize first, “look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard and spring it on you. It’s honestly just a dinner between friends. He knows I’m not interested in being anything more than friends with him. And besides, it’s you I am coming home to at the end of the night.”

Monty didn’t look up from his plate but I caught a small smile, which he tried to hide. My man and his lack of ability to emote. He really is adorable. “Okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just wasn’t expecting that. I trust you.” Woah. It was my turn to be taken aback. He had never actually said that to me before. Sure, he had done things to show that he trusted me, but he had never said it outright, in as many words. I wasn’t sure what to say so I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it a couple of times, firmly. He looked up then and smiled a very shy smile at me.

“I trust you too. Completely.”

The Scott situation now sorted; we finished our meals in a once again comfortable silence.

It wasn’t until after we were relaxing on the couch that I brought up the fight this morning and what he and Zach talked about. “Monty? Can we talk about what happened this morning? With Tyler and Zach?”

Monty sighed and I was worried I pressed too hard too soon. “We can talk I guess, yeah.”

“Okay. Do you want to tell me what the fighting was about?” I asked, moving to sit so I could face him.

“Nothing really. Like I said at lunch, I was in a bad mood.”

“So you gave Tyler and them a hard time because…?”

“They were there? I don’t know. I can’t take it out on you or the guys so I don’t know what else you expected? I go talk to Porter? I’m not sure if you have noticed, but the guy isn’t the greatest at his job.”

“No, I don’t expect you to talk to Porter. But you could have talked to me. Or Zach. Or Scott, if you left out the me being your girlfriend thing. Or hell, if it meant you would have talked to him about it, tell him about us.”

“I could have talked to you? And said what?”

“I-I don’t know Monty. That’s the thing. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. I’m trying to understand. But I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. You tell me whatever you need to tell me. I’m here for you. No matter what. You can tell me anything.”

Monty sat silently for a whole five minutes, absorbing what I was telling him. Finally, he spoke, “Okay. I guess… yesterday was a lot of information Rebeca. When I asked about a shirt that morning and you said… I just wasn’t exactly expecting that to be the situation. And I don’t want to call it a situation because that’s not what it is. I really don’t want to say the wrong thing here. And I know you’re probably sick of hearing this from everyone, but I am sorry for what happened and your loss. So trying to process and make sense of that was a lot. And then Zach just showing up kind of… set me off? I knew I couldn’t really do anything about it then, but I also knew it was only a matter of time before I snapped.”

I nodded and put my hand on his knee, urging him to continue. This is good. He’s talking. When he didn’t, I decided to speak up, “that is all fair but Montgomery, you can’t just hit people or lash out when you have an emotional response to something. It’s not healthy.”

“I know. And I am trying, I swear. It’s just hard. But anyway, I didn’t know how to react or what to say to you. And I knew you and Zach were close, I guess it just never occurred to me that you were quite that close. He has a freaking key to your house Becks. Before you say anything yes, I understand why, and you explained it well enough yesterday. That’s not the point. The point is it was a shock and I didn’t know how to process it. So yeah. I lashed out. And it just happened that Tyler and them were around and hell, they’re easy targets. The kid doesn’t fight back. So I took it out on them.”

“Alright well, I guess that makes sense. Chad said it wasn’t as bad as it normally was. Is that because of me?”

“I mean, I guess yeah. You… you make me want to be better. No one has ever made me feel this way. You make me feel so… important. I matter to you.”

I nodded, afraid that if I tried to speak that I would cry. I took a moment to collect myself before asking the question that had been plaguing my mind all day, “What did Zach say to you this morning? I saw him pull you aside after you took a breather. I wanted to ask earlier but I never got the chance.”

“Oh that. He just explained some stuff to me is all. Helped put things in perspective.” I nodded again, wondering if he would continue. “Do you really want to know what he said?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then. He told me to get my shit together first, but then he explained some of what he went through when his dad died. The closest thing I can compare your loss to is maybe when Jeff died, but even then, it’s not the same. That team is my family and he was my brother but it’s different than what you went through.”

“I’ve never said it before and I know I didn’t know him and he was before my time, but I really am sorry that he died.” I interjected, feeling a need to say something, anything to convey my feelings for him, to show him that he isn’t wrong to trust me. He smiled at me before continuing.

“Zach explained that you not telling me about Jake and what happened, wasn’t because you don’t trust me or that I did something wrong, but because you are still working through it in your own way. I knew it wasn’t an easy thing to talk to people about. He said that when you lose someone suddenly, it’s something that knocks you off kilter and you need to work harder to right yourself than when you expect it in some ways. I’m scared I’m going to say the wrong thing here so if I do, I don’t mean to but I’m just going to say it. The most experience I’ve had with,” he paused, unsure of how to continue or how to phrase his thoughts in a kind way.

“You can say it. It’s not a dirty word. It’s a fact. It was suicide.” I cut in.

“Right. I wasn’t sure. The most experience I’ve had with suicide was Hannah Baker and if I’m being honest, it didn’t really affect me that much. I didn’t like her. I didn’t care to know her when she was alive, so it was just… a thing to me. I know people deal with death in their own ways. Zach explained to me that part of how you process it and deal with it, is by not talking about it. Or when you do talk about it, you’re very blunt about it. When I asked if it was like you were moving on, he said no. You just see it as a fact that cannot be changed, so there is no need to tiptoe around it. Which is fair. Not… not that a different way of processing it is not fair as well. Just….” He stopped and looked at me, scared that he had just ruined everything.

“No, no its okay. I know what you mean. Zach is right. We have talked about it in the past and I think that’s part of why we connected and got along so well. We have both experienced tremendous and unspeakable loss, that can’t be explained or understood by other people. He lost his dad, I lost my mom and my brother. Losing her sucked but I had Jake to help me get through it. And then I lost Jake and suddenly I didn’t have my person anymore. My friends and stuff tried to understand and talk to me about it, but the only person I wanted to talk about losing Jake with was Jake. And the thing is, for Zach and you and the team, his dad and Jeff died in car wrecks. Still extremely tragic. I hate that he lost his dad and that you lost your friend and its awful. But when someone dies in a car wreck or they’re sick or anything like that, people don’t have opinions on it. But when someone commits suicide, suddenly everyone has an opinion they want to share with you. The first reaction in both situations is ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ With a wreck, the next question is ‘can I bring you a casserole?’, with a suicide, the second question or comment is along the lines of ‘the person was selfish and didn’t think about their family or friends’ or, and someone did in fact say this to me, ‘you’re better off it seems like. Now they won’t bring you down with their mood.’ As though my brother didn’t just die, and my dad didn’t just lose his son. The grief and pain you feel, gets minimized and discounted because of people’s perceptions and preconceived notions about suicide and mental health. That’s part of why I don’t tell people. Like I said last night, it’s not because you have ever made it seem like that is how you would react or anything, it’s just in my experience, that’s what happens.” I explained, hoping I conveyed my point appropriately. He nodded at me and checked his watch before standing up and leaning down to place a kiss to my lips and pull me off the couch with him.

“As much as I don’t want to leave right now, I should probably head home soon baby girl.”

“Okay.”

He pulled me into his chest and enveloped my tiny frame in his arms. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you for explaining stuff to me today.” I spoke into his chest, my voice coming out muffled against his shirt.

“No problem. And I’m sorry for making the Scott thing such a big deal, even if I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea, I understand you have your own friends too.” Montgomery took a step back before leaning down and kissing me deeply. “I should get going before my mom sends the cavalry to find me.”

“I know. Just wish you didn’t have to. My bed is so cold without you now.”

“I know Becks.” He hugged me tightly again, before we walked to the door together. “I’ll see you in the morning. Our spot?”

“With a black coffee with your name on it, promise.” After we parted, I watched him drive down the street and got myself ready for bed, thinking of just how important the last few days were going to be to our relationship going forward.

[crownedbyluke]

Knight in Shining Plastic Armor

Premise: This is going to be a series as in each boy will get their own Halloween story. All of these (titles specifically) are inspired by the song Masquerade by Sleeping At Last. Feel free to listen to it as you read if you would like. It’s time to get spooky.

Word Count: 1,660

Calum

Michael was staring at the knight costume on the website Ashton had sent him. They were trying to go for a group costume. Michael still wasn’t sure what the knight costume had to do with it, but if the boys wanted him to wear it, he decided he would. He put it into his cart and paid for it before he really questioned it anymore.

“Whatcha buying?” Y/N asked from behind him. He laughed and showed her the website, smiling when she also laughed.

“Let me guess, group costume planned by Ash?” she asked, moving to sit next to him on the couch.

“Yeah. I don’t really understand what we’re doing, but I trust him,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Should I go as a princess then to match you in case they fall through?” she joked, making him laugh.

“Only if you want to,” he said, looking over at his best friend. She smiled at him before resting her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t understand what exactly Ashton’s vision is, but he sounded really excited over the phone when he was talking about it,” he said, going back to the link that Ashton had sent him. The costume didn’t look horrible, but it also was clear to him that the armor of the costume wasn’t high quality. It looked a little tacky, but Ashton had assured him that he could wear something underneath it so he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

“May I?” she asked, wiggling her fingers as a signal to take his laptop. He handed it over and watched as she clicked through pages until she found a princess costume she liked.

“Just in case,” she said, giving him a quick smile and ordering the costume. He smiled over at her again, taking in her profile and appreciating her even more. She was always there and despite him having to leave for tour and work, she always came back. She was his rock when everything else was going wrong and there were moments when he thought he didn’t show her how much he appreciated her.

                                                      ⟵⟶

Michael finished pulling on the costume, the tacky plastic squeaking slightly as he pulled on it. It wasn’t super uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t as comfortable as his normal everyday attire. He stared at himself in the mirror, deciding that the body armor was enough and that he didn’t need to wear the helmet.

“Mikey! How’s it going?” Y/N asked through the door. She must have been done getting ready if she was knocking on the bathroom door.

“Good. Give me a minute,” he said, adjusting some parts of the costume before opening the door. Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth as she tried to hold in her giggles.

“That bad?” he asked, chuckling a little.

“Not necessarily, but you do look a bit dorky,” she said, eyes looking him up and down.

“I swear if Ash and the guys aren’t doing this, I’m going home,” he said, walking past her to pull on his shoes. The costume squeaked in protest at his movements. The noise made Y/N laugh even more.

“Mikey, I don’t think you’re going to be comfortable in that thing for the whole night,” she said, a look of concern on his face.

“Probably not, but I also don’t plan on staying too long,” he said, tying up the boots Ashton made him buy.

“Why?” she asked, pulling on the flats she bought to go with her costume.

“Just don’t feel like partying really tonight,” he said, standing up, the squeaking coming again.

“Understandable. Are you gonna drive?” she asked, gently putting on the flower headband that went with her dress.

“Yeah. I don’t plan on drinking either,” he said, grabbing his keys and getting ready to leave.

“Mikey, are you okay? You seem down,” she said, touching his arm, feeling the plastic material under her palm.

“Yeah. I’m just a little tired of the whole partying all the time thing. I don’t think it’s necessary to drink for every occasion,” he said, waiting for her to grab her purse.

“Well then, we can leave after an hour yeah?” she suggested, giving him a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan. Are you okay with that?” he asked, looking down at her. There was something different about tonight. Y/N looked stunning in her costume and even though Michael always thought she was beautiful, it was a consistent thought in his mind tonight. Her costume fit her perfectly, the lace and burgundy fabric making her skin glow. There had been moments when Michael had thought about the possibility of being more than just friends with Y/N, but they always passed. Looking at her tonight though, he knew it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

                                                      ⟵⟶

Michael wasn’t keeping track of time. He was too focused on Y/N and the way she making the whole party light up. It didn’t matter who she was talking to, she seemed to have an air about her that made everyone pay attention to what she was saying.

“Mikey?” Ashton asked, taking his gaze away from her for a moment.

“Yeah?” he responded, eyes darting back to stare at her.

“You okay? You haven’t done much or really talked all night,” Ashton said, having observed Michael’s demeanor from the other side of the room for a bit.

“I know. I just don’t feel like being at parties all the time,” he said, a small smile coming over his face when he watched Y/N laugh at something Luke said.

“Or is it that you finally realized how much you like Y/N and don’t know what to do about it?” Ashton asked, a smirk coming over his features. Michael’s head snapped to look at Ashton, a look of surprise on his face.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve been staring at her all night long and it’s been two hours when you two said you’d only stay an hour,” Ashton said, chuckling a little.

“Ash, it’s not like I’m. Okay fine. Yeah, I’ve been thinking about her in a non-best friend way all night long, but I’m not going to do anything about it,” he said, taking a deep breath.

“Why not?” Ashton pushed, following Michael’s gaze back to Y/N. She was talking to Luke and she looked effortlessly beautiful.

“Because we’re best friends and that’s all we’ve ever been,” he said, smiling when Y/N looked over at him. He did a little wave and watched as she came back over to him.

“Sorry it’s later than we said. Ready?” she asked, a light air to her voice that made Michael’s heart swell.

“If you are,” he said, giving her another small smile. There was something about the exchange that was different. It felt charged with more emotion than the normal ones. Ashton noticed, but he wasn’t sure if either of them noticed. He smiled a little when they waved, hoping that Michael would act on his feelings before the night was over.

                                                       ⟵⟶

“Mikey, why is Ashton texting you about me?” Y/N asked, holding up Michael’s phone to show him. Michael eyebrows rose, staring at her in surprise. He had just walked back into his living room, changed out of his plastic armor.

“I don’t know. What’s it say?” he asked, trying to play it off like it was nothing.

“He asked if you told me how you feel?” she asked, looking back at him from the couch. He sighed, wishing he could run and hide from this whole situation.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s drunk,” he said, sitting down next to her and taking the phone from her.

“I don’t think so. What’s going on?” she asked, turning so she was facing him. He sighed, wishing so badly that one of the kids from down the hall would come knock on the door for candy.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, texting Ashton back to shut up.

“It’s not nothing. Talk to me,” she pushed, reaching out and touching his shoulder. He set his phone down and looked over at her. She was so close to him. He glanced down to look at her lips. Those damn trick-or-treaters weren’t saving him now. His thoughts moved faster than he could process, but as he met her eyes, everything stopped. He couldn’t escape his feelings anymore. He slowly leant forward and lightly pressed his lips against hers. She gasped at the feeling, but leaned into him, kissing him back. Time seemed to slow down as they kissed. It felt like they had been holding their breath until this moment. Michael pulled away first, resting his forehead against hers.

“I hope I can be your knight in shining armor,” he said, a small smile playing across his lips.

“Only if it’s made out of plastic,” she joked, making them both laugh.

“So those feelings huh?” she asked, bringing up the conversation that started this.

“I have them for you and I want to be with you,” he said, throwing caution to the wind about their friendship.

“I want that too Mikey,” she said, smiling at him.

“Then, I’m all yours Y/N,” he said, returning the same small smile. There was a knock at the door making Michael laugh. He got up, opening the door and smiling at the little children were dressed in varying costumes.

“Trick or treat!” they happily shouted. Michael laughed again, giving each of them candy.

“Happy Halloween!” he said before they giggled and ran off down the hallway to knock on another door. Michael turned back to Y/N, seeing a giant smile on her face.

“What?” he asked, setting the basket down and walking back over to her.

“It doesn’t have to be Halloween for you to be my knight in shining armor,” she said, watching him sit next to her.

“Well it doesn’t have to be Halloween for you to be my princess.”

A bit of a fluffier turn on this one, but hey, it’s Mikey. I can’t put him through angst. I hope you enjoyed the second installment of the Halloween series! Send me some feedback yo!

tag hoes: @thruheavenandhighwater @cashtonspicelatte @spookycal @thebookamongmen @cartiercalum @obsidiancosmos @lurhemmings @a-little-international @lu-fakebetch @cashton-queen @irwinsx @tommossoccer

[whatzappening]

The Zappadydoodah

Hello! I’m Jenny – I am 38, married to a beautiful (in all the ways) lady for five years. We have a son who is nearly two and another baby on the way. I’m writing this down because I’m in a transformative time of life, with deliberate hope for change occurring around some treatment for my Stuff. I’m feeling super overwhelmed, massively restless and thought it might be a) handy to channel it all into a writing area, and b) useful for anyone else in a similar sitch.

The Stuff

So here’s my stuff. Fibromyalgia since 2005, Chronic Fatigue diagnosed since 2011, Depression and Anxiety diagnosed since 2012 but probably always. Definitely always.

Here is a list of some of the things I have done to try to manage/fix/deal with my stuff:

SSRI’s

Meditation

Herbal supplements

Naturopathy

CBT

Psychotherapy

Protein shakes

Exercise Therapy

Counseling

Hydrotherapy

Acupuncture

Pilates

Yoga

All of the Elimination Diets

Gym

Walking

Alexander Technique

Kinesiology

Psychics

Hypnosis

A thousand doctors

Graded Exercise Therapy

Narrative Therapy

Rheumatologist

Physiotherapy

Massage

Reiki

All the other stuff I can’t remember

Short of fish slapping that’s all I can remember right now (I did not try fish slapping). I want to be clear that a lot of these things have been extremely helpful in managing my life and keeping me as upright and mobile as possible. The ones who promised me that they could fix me, did the opposite and caused catastrophic setbacks, in every single case. I don’t feel like me listing which ones are which is helpful because every human reacts differently to different options depending on who they are and what their experiences have been.

I will say, however, that my current team members around my health are counselor, physiotherapist, massage therapist, acupuncturist/TCM practitioner.

So that is my stuff. Read on if you fancy!

What’s happening now, and how and why?

So a couple of months ago we were taking our kid for an outing on a Sunday morning. We thought we’d head to a local market about half an hour’s drive and visit our friends who were selling food there to raise money for the local wildlife shelter. Cute! Fun Sunday outing! He fell asleep five minutes from our destination so we kept going, because sleep is golden and we had no place we had to be, and ended up driving past my sister’s place.

We hadn’t seen them for a little while (she lives there with her daughters who are 19 and 20, both at uni this year so sometimes not there) and pulled up in the driveway, waking them up because they don’t live with a toddler and get to sleep in. I have no bitterness about this, it’s just something worth mentioning.

Her youngest daughter, my niece has had severe fibromyalgia for several years now. The list of things she’s tried are varied and include things like hospital stays, ketamine infusions, morphine – and they didn’t help. Morphine didn’t touch the sides of her pain. I won’t go into too much detail but her quality of life was non existent and she was cut down at her best and brightest. It’s horrific and unfair and all the other things. I have not seen colour in that kid’s face other than green for a number of years.

When we rocked up, she was pink cheeked and was about to go out for brunch with a friend.

Let me pause there – every part of that sentence was not possible for years. So after mouthing OMG at my sister when my niece wasn’t looking, we sat down at my sister’s dining table after her she went out with her friend and my sister took my hand. She teared up and said will you please, please think about trying this thing. It works. Look at her.

And then my heart skipped a beat. It had literally not occurred to me that anything could work. That was certainly not my lived experience. I knew they were trying a thing, and I was ready to support them as much as I could (and knowing that sometimes I need to keep a stronger boundary, to protect my sense of self and eschew self pity) when it inevitably didn’t work and their desperation in scrambling for something, some relief, would continue.

“things don’t work for people like me”

That was the sentence that was ringing in my head, loud and clear as a bell. I had believed one too many times when someone had promised me they could make it all better, and then as time went on the prices would increase and the narrowing field of ways I could be pressed in on me and the possibilities vanished when things that weren’t actually physically possible for me to do (and no, I couldn’t push through or engage in mind over matter, get fucked if you think that’s a thing that can happen in this situation, frankly) and I was a bad, naughty client who wasn’t complying so their promise no longer applied. By then they had all of the money and my sense of self was at rock bottom. Snake oil merchants for the win.

Four or so years ago I had a massive breakthrough with a fabulous narrative therapist I was working on my health management with. One day she asked me how it would be if I could just accept my limitations and not place pressure on myself to be capable of anything more than I could do. That I have a serious illness that impacts every single area of my life, and the more I ignore it the louder it gets. How would it feel to accept that?

Because I was ready to hear it, and because I trusted her, and because I knew everything I knew by that stage, I took it in and really imagined how it would feel. And my shoulders dropped about fifty metres and I felt relaxed and calm.

That year I had my first winter since my diagnosis where I didn’t have a severe depressive episode. I rested more, I kept myself warm, I didn’t push myself to not be such a big whiny baby. I cared for myself. I didn’t pretend I wasn’t unwell. I acknowledged it and acted accordingly. Bloody hell – it was absolutely life altering. I will always be grateful to that therapist for that revelation. Then she went and decided to help the refugees on Manus Island with their myriad of psychological issues resulting from trauma and abuse, which I understood but felt a bit miffed about in a selfish way.

So that huge shift had informed the way I went about caring for myself. What a relief to not feel the pressure of turning every stone over just in case. Wearing myself out going to All The Appointments. Never stopping because if I did that meant giving up.

Stopping is brilliant and should be compulsory for all people in all situations.

So now I have my team around me. Every member is crucial and I’m pretty happy most of the time. I’m a great parent and wife and friend and relative, I think.

The thought of messing with that? Oof. SO risky. Terrifying. But my sister held my hand and asked me to think about it. So I did.

I don’t mean to vaguebook atcha. The thing is called TMS and is usually provided to people who have severe depression. The kind where no medication works and everything is hopeless. It’s non invasive, and uses magnetic thingamebobs to retrain the pathways in your brain that have died off due to illness. So for people with fibro, the pathways of normal sensation are often replaced with pain pathways. Recently when I was extremely distressed about a work situation and I could not deal with what was happening, my brain told me that whenever I took a step I was at risk of my ankle shattering. My ankle was not at risk of shattering, but the pain felt extremely real and terrifying. And so on and so forth. So the TMS thingo (and to be honest it’s a little bit tinfoil hat to avoid the government reading your thoughts) is a metal cap that goes over your hair on the place where the specific neural pathways are, then magnetic waves are sent through the thing which stimulate your brains. It’s habit forming, so doing it once a week isn’t going to do squat. But 3-5 zaps a week (each zap is 30-60 mins) will be highly likely to have an impact. 5 will work faster, 3 will still work the same amount but will take a little longer.

They recommend about 30 sessions and then you can taper off and see how you respond. Here’s the kick. I live 90 mins from Melbourne CBD and it’s the closest place I can go for treatment. A three hour round trip a day isn’t possible for me (both in terms of fatigue and available free time).

My work is quite seasonal so I had planned to close off my books from May for a few months, and we were all going to go as a family to rent a house for a few months and just smash it. But then we both realised my wife’s pregnancy wasn’t getting easier and sooner would be better than later. So the compromise is as follows:

Kicking off this month with a week together as a family for calibration and a couple of treatments, and then I’ll head to Melbourne Tuesday morning til Thursday middle of the day allowing me three zaps (Tues – Wed – Thurs) and on the way home I get acupuncture so I can decompress a bit before arriving for family time at home and don’t just dump all my emotions all over them. I’ll have had time to process and chat a bit. Fridays the kidlet is in daycare, Saturdays and Sundays as per usual, Monday with the wee fella. Tuesdays drop him off at daycare late on my way in to town. We’re getting some help with kid wrangling on Wednesdays from daycare pickup to bedtime so my beautiful pregnant wife won’t have to be too exhausted after working all day. There’s a lot going on. Did I mention we’re married but not legally so we’re going to do that in a few weeks as well? It’s a big time.

I turned it all over and over and over in my head, spoke with some key people and most helpfully talked with my love. You don’t owe us anything, she said, and meant it. You try it, you don’t try it, we love you. Your body and health changes, or doesn’t, we love you. If you try it and it doesn’t work and it creates massive turmoil for you then we cross that bridge. You’ve dealt with worse.

So forward we go. 

[technicallyoneofakind]

Late Night Talks

Decided to experiment with a writing style. I saw someone do something similar with a mostly dialogue driven drabble. Let's see if it works.

Spoilers for later part of the game. You know the drill.

Warning: There is mention of self-harm later in this one.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights, Ni no Kuni would be a darker game than it is. Be thankful I don't.

~.~.~

A quiet night in the inn in Perdida, just before journeying into the miasma marshes. The familiar tamer slept in her own bed, the fairy somehow having rolled off onto the floor out of the two boys'. The boy wizard couldn't sleep. He was excited yet terrified. What if he couldn't defeat Shadar? What if he couldn't free Alicia's soul? What would happen?

He didn't dare open the companion to lull himself to sleep- he worried about waking everyone up with the light… So what else was there?

He was wide awake. He just stared at the ceiling, counting down each time Drippy's lantern shifted. When that didn't work, he switched to counting the seconds between the thief's snores- though that was never constant as they often varied in volume.

He was at a loss. How long would he have to wait until his mind settled down until his nerves ceased to rattle? Dang it. He thought, looking around the room. He turned on his side and watched the still back of a blanket covered Esther and a snoozing fairy whose small chest rose and fell.

He wasn't sure how long he stared. It was about an hour, he believed. He turned back to face the rogue, whose back also faced him. He always seemed to curl up and grab his shoulders for comfort. The kid assumed that behavior was out of habit, considering the man's years of living alone. It was hard to seriously hurt someone if they laid like that with their backs against a wall, he figured.

The man didn't really tell them much about anything. He kept himself quite reserved. He really didn't dwell on anything that had to do with his personal history- so all of their experience and knowledge of Hamelin was from either first hand, through Marcassin, or what little bits and pieces they could press together.

He supposed he could learn more… He shook his head, closing his eyes. He didn't want to bother the thief. He had a pension for getting really irritable the less sleep he had. He'd drink a decent portion of coffee- which they all needed to focus their skills- in the morning as a consequence if his night didn't fair to well.

He turned back on his back. Back to the ceiling again. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. "Urgh," he groaned softly, throwing an arm over his eyes in defeat.

A soft moan from next to him sounded. At first, he assumed it was just another snore, but then the thief shifted; he was prone to staying in the same position all night- not much of a restless sleeper. His posture had loosened from the tight ball he held himself in and he tilted his free side slightly as he turned his head a little to look at the young mage.

"Oliver…," Swaine mumbled, drowsy. "You're… still up," he yawned.

"Couldn't sleep. I'm really nervous." He didn't move his arm. "Sorry for waking you."

"Mmm…"

"You should probably go back to sleep, Swaine."

"Mmmhmm…," the thief groaned back.

There was silence for a moment. The boy lifted his arm a little to peak at the man sharing the bed with him. He hadn't curled back up. He always curled up when he willingly went to sleep. He was still awake.

Another few minutes passed.

"Are you… asleep," Oliver hesitantly asked the thief.

"Barely. It's hard for me to fall back asleep once I've fully woken up."

"What fully woke you up," the boy prodded curiously.

"Wondering what could possibly keep you up and make you so nervous."

"Oh… umm…," Oliver whispered as he turned back to face the rogue's back. "Just pre-battle jitters. That's all."

"Oh? Do you need something to calm you down then? Where's your Companion?"

"Well… You see… I need light and I didn't want to wake up anyone."

"Gotcha." He heard Swaine sigh before he rolled over to face him. "Perhaps I could tell you a story or something. Would that help?" He chuckled lightly, softly. "Hell, maybe it will lull me to sleep."

"What kind of story?"

"Anything. You name it."

"…"

"…Well…?"

"Can you tell me about Hamelin- what it was like growing up there?"

The thief coughed, choking on his own spit in shock.

"Are you okay, Swaine?"

"How about something different, eh? Hamelin's boring! You don't want to hear about that," he waved off, harshly whispering.

"No, it isn't! It's really cool! I want to know what it's like living in a machine city," he whispered back.

"Oh geez- Oliver, it's like any other city- crowded, everyone trying to get things done as quickly as possible, and impossibly huge. That's it."

He just stared back at Swaine. "That's not what I saw."

There was stammering then a silent bout of contemplation from his older friend. "Okay. It won't be much- so you may want to find another topic."

"I don't mind."

"Good…," he sighed, reaching up and rubbing his head in annoyance. "I can't speak for most people, but it was very militaristic. I remember being taught how to wield a sword and various strategies of battle. It was a very very thorough and strict training regimen." He scoffed. "That's the thing about Hamelin. It's heavily focused on the distant future."

"Is that it…?"

"That's all I want to divulge, yes."

"But- but!"

"What," he snarled. "That's all there is to say, Oliver."

"Did you have any favorite holidays…?"

The thief was quiet for a moment. He had never really thought about holidays all too much before. "Er… Yeah. It's… umm…," he glanced up at the ceiling and then down to the blanket. "The royal procession."

The boy looked down then glanced at the ceiling as he began to piece information together. "Wait… Isn't that the only well-known holiday Hamelin has?"

Swaine cleared his throat. "No… Not really. We have truffling contests and the Yule feast, but those pale in comparison to the royal procession which really celebrates two things." He held out his free hand signifying the number. "Our annual accomplishments and the current emperor's birthday."

"So… Why do you like it so much, then?"

"It's the inventions," he nonchalantly informed. "I love seeing what Hamelin's best minds come up with. Even as a child I looked forward to it."

"But… wouldn't you have to be at the front of the float when you were a kid?"

He waved it away mockingly. "It didn't matter. Back then, I got to go see the inventions personally before we left the palace. Many people, then and now, would kill to get that close to them."

"Oh, wow," the wizard gasped in amazement. "What kind of machines were there?"

There was a heavy, reluctant breath. "Erm… I can't say for certain- it varies. The royal procession happens every year. It's like keeping track of birthdays- you just can't remember them all." He paused for a moment as he placed a hand on his chin. "Tanks… Tanks were often a big thing. Everyone loves hog tanks."

"…"

"What," the thief asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I just thought- I mean…"

"Mean what?"

"I thought you invented the hog tank."

Swaine looked at Oliver in shock for a moment. "…You did read the Wizard's Companion, right?"

"I thought they were talking about you and… Marcassin," he admitted, hesitant to bring up the sage.

"Oh." He lied on his back. "Yeah, no. That wasn't us." He had a small smile. "Though, I will say, that hog tank we fought was a design I drew up and gave to those two inventors. So, I guess I helped design them to some capacity."

"Huh…" The kid beamed back at him. "That's still awesome, Swaine!"

"Eh…" The thief shrugged. "That sort of thing's common in Hamelin. Someone pitches a design, and, if the design is feasible enough, the inventor tries it out." He looked over at his young friend. "That's how we progress."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Another hour seemed to pass.

"I still can't sleep, Swaine."

"Ugh," the man responded. He scrunched up his face and looked over. "Yeah, me neither." He rolled over and tried to force himself to sleep by curling up again. "I'm going to try." He glanced over his side. "Think about hog tanks. Maybe at some point, you'll wear yourself out mentally."

"I'll… I'll try."

Swaine didn't respond. The boy rolled on his back and looked up at the ceiling. Hog tanks… How are they made…? That suggestion just made it worse. Now he had to know how hog tanks worked! "Hey, Swaine?"

"What," he snapped softly.

"How are hog tanks made?"

"It's too complicated and too late at night for me to explain that, Oliver."

"But now I can't sleep because of it!"

The man sighed and relaxed his form. He rolled over to face Oliver again. "Fine. I'll tell you something else."

"Like…?"

"I don't flipping know," he almost wanted to shout. He swung his free arm in the air over the layer of the blanket covering him. "What do you want to hear?" He stopped for a moment when the mage opened his mouth. "And don't say hog tanks," he warned harshly with a pointed finger.

"…"

"…Well? Anything?"

"Umm… What was it like being a thief- you know, after you left Hamelin…?"

"I'm not telling you that, Oliver."

"You don't have to tell me the bad stuff-"

"It's nothing but bad stuff. No. Something else."

"Uh… Well… I've never been heartbroken so…"

"Oh, god, Oliver," he hissed. "Is there anything you want to know that won't dredge up old memories?"

"I can keep it secret."

"I don't want to dwell on the past any more than I have to." He sighed. "Even so… I really shouldn't tell you. You have enough emotional garbage as it is to go through."

Oliver hummed in thought for a moment. "…I think I can handle it."

The man groaned and slowly rolled his eyes. "Don't you already, you know, know about heartbreak? You heal people all the time," he whispered back.

"Yeah, Mr. Drippy told me."

"Then why do you want me to tell you? Of all the things that fairy's good for, it's explaining something until it can't possibly be explained further." He shrugged. "What's the point? What's there to learn?"

"But that's from Mr. Drippy. It was… kind of broad. I want to know what it felt like from someone who's gone through it." He paused for a moment, looking at his own hands. "Maybe it will help me help the brokenhearted better."

He sighed and shook his head. "From hog tanks to heartbreak- what a transition." He scowled at the boy. "Sorry, but I'd rather not." He rolled over, finally giving up. "Goodnight."

"Can I at least ask why…?" When he saw Swaine tense up, he flinched. "Or not…" He lied on his back as he studied the ceiling again. He figured heartbreak was painful. It was no wonder he didn't really want to say anything. "It must be really bad. Whatever it is, I'm sorry I brought it up." He had no idea what the man had gone through- all he knew was that even he didn't deserve it. "I'm sorry you had to go through it."

This kid was… persistent- but not in the trying way Esther could be. He cared- there was a genuine warmth about his curiosity. It was late. It was just Oliver. If it did help him be a better wizard, then besides himself, where was the harm…?

"…Okay…," he breathed, gripping his shoulders tighter. "It's kind of fuzzy… my memory of it. That's what it can be like. There are bits and pieces. Most of them..." He felt his voice catch in his throat as he recalled his experience. "There was a bit of pain."

"Pain? Did you get headaches or something?"

"Not always. I often blacked out and woke up in completely different places. It got worse and worse…" He shook his head from what the boy could tell. "But that's not all. I knew when I was conscious because of the pain." He rubbed his free shoulder before tensing up again. "Things get really blurry. You start wondering what's real and what's delusion." He laid back onto his back. "The weird thing about the human mind is that you remember fear and pain more than anything else." Even as he said this, he looked away from the mage, concealing the wounded look he had.

"So if it wasn't headaches… what was it?" He watched as the thief glanced at him. "Was it your heart…?"

He shook his head. He grunted uncomfortably as he turned away again. "I… really don't think I should say, Oliver. Just thinking about it disgusts me."

"Does the past really hurt that much…?"

"Yeah… They say the past can't really hurt you. They also say it can haunt you." He looked over his shoulder. "The past doesn't haunt me. It might as well be bludgeoning me."

"Only if you let it. You can fight it…"

He raised an unseen eyebrow. "How?"

"Telling someone about it. Talking it out with someone you trust."

"Oliver," he groaned. He rolled over again to face him. "I hardly trust anyone as it is!"

"Do you trust me?"

"H-huh," the thief stammered, caught off guard by the question. He furrowed his brow and stared back at the boy. "Of course, I trust you, Oliver. What kind of question is that?!"

The wizard nodded affirmatively. "Then tell me. I'll listen."

The boy stared at the thief and the thief stared back. As Swaine considered his answer, he bit the inside of his lip. He groaned uncomfortably again as he turned his head suddenly to squint at the adobe ceiling. He looked back at Oliver again. "You've got your wand handy, have you," he requested.

"Uh… why?"

"I'll show you what I mean."

"Umm… you mean to cast Magic Lantern?"

He saw Swaine nod in the dark.

"That will wake the others."

"We'll pull the blankets over our heads. Besides…," He lifted his head to look at the girl and the fairy. "One isn't even facing us and the other… well, the fairy could sleep through an earthquake."

"Huh. Okay. Yeah, let's do that, Swaine." He nodded at the cad again as he reached down to his bag and pulled out Mornstar. The two of them sat up and proceeded to throw the blankets over them, making a makeshift tent. Oliver cast the spell, allowing them to see for a decent amount of time.

Swaine sat in front of him, his legs crossed. He seemed to be unbuttoning his short-sleeved orange shirt- his coat was hanging on the end of the bed.

"What are you doing," the wizard asked him with a look of confusion.

"Hold on." He slid off the shirt and set it to his side. That's when the kid saw it. Scars, different shapes, and different sizes populated the former prince's shoulders. Some of them were raised, the others were sunken in based on how they healed.

The deepest ones seemed to be on his sides, running along his thin, now slightly more nourished frame.

"What happened to you," the sage asked him, his voice taking on a more frightened and concerned tone. "Are these from fights? Did you get into a lot of fights, when you were heartbroken?"

He shook his head somberly. "No… At the time it seemed like a good idea- a way of keeping track of when I was… myself." He ran a few fingers across the scars on his shoulder. "I guess I never was really. I'd never willingly do this before I lost restraint. I'd never do this now. It was only then." He leaned forward. "Losing a piece of heart is literally losing a piece of yourself, Oliver. You stop being you. You start doing things you'd never think of doing. Wanting things you'd never think of wanting… and you become…" He raised a hand, his palm facing the blanket.

He let it fall, the back of his hand tapping his knee limply. "…Useless." He shook his head a little. "Or worse, a menace." He heaved a heavy breath and looked down at the scars on his sides. "I think I knew what was going on… or at least what was left of me. I knew I needed to get a grip, so I…" He gestured outward but still toward himself with his hands. "Did this as a reminder of being 'awake'. I knew I could make a sound decision when I was in pain." He traced one of the deeper scars on his abdomen.

He watched worriedly as the thief did so. "Why are those so deep…?"

"I got used to them. They stopped hurting as much." He scoffed as he looked to the side. "Luckily I stopped when I saw you three. I think something shifted- or clicked, more like- before I got any worse." He gritted his teeth as he looked down at them. "I hate that I had the gall to do this to myself."

"You couldn't control yourself."

"I know… but see, this damage is the kind of damage healing hearts can't fix."

"But you said it yourself, Swaine. You wouldn't do it again, now! Healing hearts can keep this kind of damage from happening again!"

There's a fair point, Swaine thought with a raised eyebrow. "They're permanent reminders of my darkest hour, Oliver. At the time, there was little I had in the way of support." He gave a short, sad laugh. "I could have bled out, you know. I might as well have jumped off a cliff." He leaned back on his hands and scoffed. "I believe it got so bad I wondered if dying would be a better option."

Oliver shifted uncomfortably. "Did you…" He cleared his throat nervously. "Did you try to kill yourself?"

For a moment he sat straight back up with panicked wide eyes. "What?! No! Not really. I mean, I toyed with the idea. I even jumped off the very last dock in Castaway Cove to see what jumping off of something would be like- on a whim!" He leaned back again. "Then I believe I didn't like feeling suddenly soaked- spied something attractive and decided to steal it." He lifted a hand and waved in front of him. "Or something like that. I remember being drenched in water so, I must have taken a dive somewhere."

"Swaine," Oliver complained. "I'm serious. This isn't something you joke about."

"So am I. I wasn't flipping suicidal, just very very lost and confused."

He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "I'm glad I didn't actually die in the long run." When he sat up again he suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around him and Oliver's hair brush his chest. He froze, not expecting the sudden embrace.

"I'm glad, too."

He lifted a hand, hesitating as he held it above the mage's ginger hair. He smiled down at the teen and patted his head. "Heh. Thanks, kiddo."

The mage let go as Mornstar started to flicker, the spell wearing off. The thief took what chance he had to put back on and button back up his shirt. They re-wrapped themselves in covers, preparing for another attempt at sleep.

It seemed to work, as Oliver yawned as he snuggled down into the blankets.

"…You won't tell the other two… right," Swaine asked worriedly.

"I won't. I won't even tell Marcassin." The thief heard another yawn. "That's something you should really tell him yourself."

"Thank you, Oliver," he breathed gratefully. "If it means anything to you, I feel a lot better getting that off of my chest."

"And Swaine," the wizard called.

"Hmm?" He glanced over his shoulder at the boy's back.

"You should know, I'm happy you're still around. You're really a good person… and a good friend."

A warm feeling washed through the thief. He smiled as he looked back at the wall. He needed to hear that… from someone. He was glad it was Oliver. He felt himself relax a little more before drifting asleep. "Sure thing, kiddo. Sure thing," he whispered to his now sleeping friend.

~.~.~

Author's note:

Well… That was… something. Initially, I wanted to focus more on the self-harm (because there is something seriously wrong with me and I need to seek counseling), but I decided against it. I seem to be veering more towards thief boy's spell of heartbreak right now- that and that grey area in between Hamelin and Castaway Cove. We really don't know much about those years in between. On top of that, something caught my attention (EAD13 might have had some influence on this)- he covers up a lot. He hides his past a lot. What if it's not just modesty? I mean, he's skin and bones, so it could be the fact that he's pretty malnourished for someone his age and he doesn't want to draw concern, but that wasn't enough for my decrepit little mind, was it?

I often equate heartbreak as a sort of representation of depression and other mental illnesses- but mostly depression. From what I know, many people experience depression differently and do things for different reasons. Some escape into other things. Some hurt themselves (for varying reasons, reasons I can't hope to fully grasp myself). Some can't get out of bed in the morning. Granted, I've never considered myself as a person that suffers from depression, but lately, I've been kind of worried that I might be. I know I'm out of my depth- as I know people who've suffered from it, who have hurt themselves during it, but I've never experienced it at its worst myself.

Aaaanyway. I decided to give a nice bit of character bonding and fond backstory giving before the more serious stuff. Sorry if this caused any issues for anyone. Just… be kind to yourselves, alright?

Anyway. Thoughts? Critiques? Even if not, I hope you enjoyed and took something from this. Sorry, it got a bit dark.