#so I have to get covid tested for work twice a week

[unintentional--sass]

.

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

.

[mrtheinsatiable]

Ah fuck lads, I think I might have long covid

[aprilsuzanne]

On my last blog, I wrote about my eating disorder at great length. I think it's time to do it again. If you don't like long text posts, feel free to skip this, but don't skim read it and reply because that's not nice.

TW if you need it, eating disorders, self harm, body dysmorphia.

----

People seem to think that eating disorders don't really apply to men. I spent my entire childhood listening to just about everyone passing judgement on other people's weight. As a boy, my apparent role models were all athletes, thin or muscular actors, skinny popstars and guys in music, and any husky person was either funny or tragic.

As I got older, I noticed these attitudes getting worse. Muscular men between acting jobs would stop cutting and starving their bodies, but would still look like peak physical condition but would be referred to as having a 'dad bod'.

Older still, I'd see people waggling their little fingers making jokes about small dicks, or laughing about people who cum to quick. People were too tall or not tall enough. Then they'd be too skinny if they were too fat. Then, laughs about baldness or their bodies being too hairy. It went on and on.

It melted my brain. I wanted to be whatever this idea shape was and deep down, I knew it wasn't possible, and I developed an immovable self loathing that I suspect I'll carry with me through my whole life.

I'd hear women getting similar criticisms, and the criticisms came equally from women and men, gay and straight, and of all races and creeds, and I think somewhere in my thoughts, I gave up trying to find a peaceful way of navigating this and began to purge every time I ate. I was playing a lot of team sports and would vomit before every game. I'd then go home, eat, and repeat. I became dangerously thin and people would tell me my body looked great.

I would pass out a lot through exhaustion and my eyes became dark. At some point I collapsed and hit my face on a shelf, then a radiator, and pretended to everyone that I'd just been in a fight.

After a short time thinking I'd fixed myself after scaring myself when I'd collapsed, it started again. I switched out bulimia for anorexia. I was now not eating at all. I remember hitting my hand with a spoon over and over when someone brought me some food to work, anxiety in overdrive as I hoped they wouldn't notice me not touching any of the food they gave me. That happened a lot and the back my hand was frequently purple with bruises.

I've kept a photo of a more recent period so I have something to check, in case I've dropped too much weight. This was me not that long ago, irresponsibly thin and I'd made myself very poorly. The skirt is cute though.

It was around this time that I'd collapsed again, this time in public. I was rushed to hospital with malnutrition and it was in the middle of lockdown so hospitals were swamped and everything was weird.

I was given a COVID test and while the nurses went to do my test, I sneaked out of the hospital because I didn't want them to tell me anything about how thin I was, even though they'd already clocked me. I walked home and collapsed three more times in the street, and twice more at home. I managed to get myself back to hospital eventually and spent the night under observation and was fed sugary gels and put on a drip to try and replace some of what my body had been missing for months.

I again discharged myself and ran away from the problem.

I was disgusted with myself. I was being irresponsible. I thought I looked enormous. I then made myself more depressed because I shouldn't talk about people's bodies like that. I loved people of all shapes and sizes and here I was, judging someone for being fat. I didn't eat or drink a single thing for two weeks after being in hospital. I was going mad. It was time to tell my friends what was going on, and it turned out a number of them had already worked it out.

One of the things I needed to fix was some of the people I sought advice from. I'd found people in secret who also had eating disorders and people who self harmed. It sounded like we were helping each other from the outside in, but the reality was that we were all enabling each other. Some call it trauma bonding. I call it unwell people egging each other on and even being competitive about it.

One girl said to me that my eating disorder wasn't as bad as hers. She gave me tips on how to act like I was getting better to other people. Saying you're trying is as good as actually trying, she added. It's all part of the performance.

I didn't want to be ill. I just wanted to not feel violently sick when I thought about my own body existing. I wanted to not be perceived at all, and to be left in darkened rooms, wasting away. While I spent all those nights, just lying there, I realised that this illness wasn't like other illnesses. Cancer wants to devour you. Broken bones want to heal. This eating disorder wanted me to stay alive but maximise the suffering in a prolonged bout of self harm. Me being dead was no use to my dysmorphia. I did just enough to stay alive, so I could maximise the suffering. It was like an endurance sport with no medal.

At some point, my name was put forward to appear on a news programme on national television. One of my supposed support network worked in TV and was asked if they knew anyone who had what had been rebranded as 'manorexia'. It's funny - even when showing concern, people still do stupid things like giving an illness that applies to anyone a ridiculous name. We don't call it blokeaemia do we?

After speaking to the genuinely respected and very nice journalist who I'd seen on television a lot, she was heavy handed in her questions. Things like "is it just vanity then?" is one that sticks in my memory. After 3 days of back and forth, the news story was dropped because a panda had given birth in a zoo somewhere. My sense of the absurd and gallows humour kicked in, mercifully. Men's eating disorders, relegated beneath a captive animal having a baby.

Another friend who was genuinely being well-meaning told me how brave I was, "going around telling everyone you have a woman's disease". I wasn't angry because I knew what they meant, but to someone more fragile, it could have gone horribly wrong. Another friend simply said "I don't want to ever talk about this - it's too upsetting."

I became aware of famous men talking about their eating disorders. A politician called John Prescott spoke of his and everyone laughed at it and made jokes on panel shows, based entirely on the fact that he wasn't thin enough. Everyone laughed at Hugh Jackman on talkshows when he spoke of the starvation and duress he put his body under to look a certain way for movies. Thin women were pointed at when they put an ounce of weight on. I heard women sniggering about other women saying "what does she look like in that dress?"

More recently, people would berate the 45th president of the United States for being "fat", rather than going after more pertinent things like his whole personality and terrible views. Fat, in this instance, was the ultimate sin, not being pro-fascist. I noticed how many larger men were clowning around at their own expense, and women would coo about them online. People like Jack Black - talented, good looking, charismatic - would be met with "I don't care that he's fat".

So where am I now? Mentally, the damage is done and I don't think I'll ever lose the will to harm myself. However, since my last collapse, I swore I'd never go there again. I rigidly eat three times a day. I've actively learned to enjoy the cooking process. It's been incredibly difficult, perhaps in part because I stubbornly refuse any professional help. I looked around for a psychiatrist who would help at one point, but every single one told me that they weren't taking men on.

Way back when, I started sharing photos of my body on Tumblr in a state of undress because I wanted to normalise how I looked. If I sandwiched myself between everyone else's nudes which I thought were beautiful, then I gave myself a chance to think the same of my own. It certainly helped. There's something about the kind of people this site attracts that celebrates a variety of people and I can be flooded with dopamine when my photos get complimented. They're compliments from people that sometimes get it, and that matters. Some people just think I'm being thirsty, and sometimes, they're absolutely correct.

My stomach has grown. There's fat bits on my back which I've never seen before. My neck got chunky where my jawline used to be razor sharp. At long last, I'm learning to love this. I love the softness of people's bodies, and it's taken me decades to realise that I'm just people too. I wear soft clothes that feel nice against my skin. I've collaborated on photos with wonderful people. While my dysmorphia is so bad that I doubt I'll ever find it easy to sexually pleasure myself, I've been shocked to find that people on here have actually had me feeling like a viable and sexy person! It's a completely new feeling to me and I'm trying to get better at taking compliments instead of pushing them away.

I've written about this before and at some length, but I feel it's important to do it again so it doesn't get lost. It might help someone. It might help people understand me better. It might help someone understand what their friend is going through. It might just be enough to offer an interesting perspective and nothing more.

I'm doing better than I've done in memory and it's weird and makes me feel vulnerable. I don't want to get complacent and writing this reminds me of how far I've come and not to let this terrible illness sneak up on me again. I've been through some horrendous emotional stress recently, and that's exactly the kind of time where a thing like this can reintroduce itself into my brain.

I'm doing okay though, genuinely. I can only write about these things when I'm in a good place. I hope you are too. If anyone ever needs to speak to me about anything like this, I can't promise I can fix you, but I can definitely empathise and I will root for you.

(please forgive any typos or garbled language in this - I wrote it in one take, off the cuff, without editing)

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: something new | ljn

summary | in a freak chance, your boss’ top makeup artist falls ill right before new york fashion week, and you’re the only intern who could even begin to take over for her. so, you spend a couple of days as lee jeno’s personal makeup artist.

genre | lee jeno x fem! reader, idolverse/real world, nyfw! jeno x makeup artist! reader, (emotional) fling-ish…i realized i didn't tag this w an actual genre its like angst-ish with a bit of fluff lol

warnings | there’s like one suggestive line, y/n had an embarrassing kpop phase in high school

wc | 4.4k

a/n: i literally need to be sedated. his heels … his heels … HIS HEELS … i need a lobotomy rn fr. shout out to my bff for life rin for getting me through the past two days

ft. people i made up

YOU FELT LIKE PASSING OUT.

Thank god you were relatively close with Stella, because, if you weren’t, you’d probably have been trampled a long time ago. It had taken nearly an hour to even get into the hotel due to the scale of fame most of its residents had, and, even after you’d made it in, making it to the room where you’d be working was even harder. Being an intern makeup artist for a fashion brand was fun, up until you’d actually had to go to an important event.

Quickly, you took out your bottle of water, taking a few sips before you really did throw up. When you’d originally been told about this, about your emergency subbing in, you’d felt over the moon—now, you wanted nothing more than to go to your dingy little apartment in Newark and watch a random reality TV show.

“I want to go home.”

“I want to go home.”

“Oh, come on,” Stella groaned, looking at you. You envied her nonchalance, but her lowballing of your anxiety upset you quite a bit—she’d been doing this for ten years, and you were an intern who’d been doing it for four months. “Bossman said he was going to give you someone easy, yeah? Probably a guy. Someone who only needs light foundation and enhancement. Be glad you aren’t Yuri.”

Yuri, one of your other superiors, was taking over for the best makeup artist in your lineup. Two days ago, she’d produced a shiny, new, positive COVID test, leaving your entire team in shambles—and, given the short amount of time, they had to fall back on the interns. They had to fall back on you.

Finally, you made it to your destination—the front of a line to get into the hotel room. The security guard motioned to see your IDs, which both you and Stella produced with ease. The moment he verified, he stepped out of the way, allowing you to enter a world of absolute, utter chaos. People ran around with safety pins and eyeshadow pallets, and you could’ve sworn you heard yelling.

Luckily, your boss had been waiting for you both, it seemed. “Girls!” he exclaimed, coming up and placing a hand on both of your shoulders. “So glad you’ve arrived. Welcome to your first fashion week, [First]! Play your cards right and you can get a permanent hire, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah,” you said, laughing nervously. Your boss patted your shoulder twice, giving you an almost nostalgic smile.

“Stella, you’re over with the women, as always. Have fun! [First], you speak Korean, right?”

You furrowed your brows, wondering why this was relevant. “Uh, yeah?”

Your boss removed his hand from your shoulder, clapping excitedly. “Lovely! I’m giving you a very, very special job that not even Miss-COVID-Positive could pull off.”

He sidestepped past you, and you paused, blinking a couple times before you spun around and rushed to catch up with him. He walked right out the door you’d just waited nearly twenty minutes to enter, strutting down the hall in red-bottomed heels and the most expensive suit you’d ever seen. You struggled to keep up, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the less-than-fancy clothes you were wearing (black sweats that looked like dress pants and a loose t-shirt); then again, Stella had looked worse for wear than you had.

“Where are we going?”

“Peter Do has a very special guest this year, and we need a Korean speaker to follow him around and make sure he looks perfect during the whole event. There’s worry he might not have the easiest time making it around as most of the models do.”

You wondered what that meant. Jokingly, you asked, “Is an idol coming, or something?”

Your boss didn’t respond, he just kept walking, stopping once you reached the elevator. He swiftly pressed the “up” button, waiting for the elevator to finally appear. You stopped next to him, more nerves rising in your stomach. “Sir, please don’t tell me I’m going to have to follow a k-pop idol around.”

“Why? Is that bad?”

You cringed, remembering your high school days—you’d been obsessed, listening to every group under the sun and spending your free time tweeting about those same groups. As such, you knew more than a little bit about how idol lives were, and what they had to endure.

“People are taking pictures of them for every single second they’re out and about,” you said, beginning to overthink as you stepped into the elevator. Your boss pressed the 15th-floor button, but you barely cared, at that point. “One mistake, one slightly-off line, and it’ll be documented forever. Forever, boss. What do I do then? Sit and cry? I’ll never survive that. And if people see me with them? What if there are, like…weird rumors?”

“You’re overreacting,” your boss said. The elevator doors slid open faster than you could comprehend that you were going up, and, suddenly, your boss was emerging into the hall. You, once again, nearly got left behind, stumbling out of the elevator to try and stay with him. This floor was incredibly quiet, with not a single sound echoing through the halls. It was eerie. You would’ve thought it would make you feel better, but it hadn’t—at all.

He stopped in front of room 1567 and knocked. You stood behind him, almost hiding as the door swung open to reveal a woman in her early 30s if you had to guess. “Come, come!” she exclaimed, stepping out of the way to let you in. You followed your boss, a sense of dread overtaking you.

And then you made eye contact with Lee Jeno.

He was standing in the middle of the room in front of a huge mirror, with three people fussing over his outfit. You stood there in shock, flashbacks of being a 16-year-old girl and fussing over “Chewing Gum” filling your mind, and your very short time as an NCT fan. He was just as gorgeous as you’d remembered him being, with jet black hair and a physique any man would die for. You looked over his outfit, impressed with what Peter Do had done, and—

He was shirtless.

You looked away almost instantly, feeling your cheeks burn at the realization. You decided to tune into your boss’ conversation with who you’d assumed to be Jeno’s manager as they talked vigorously. “[First] is our best intern, and is essentially already part of our team, so I wouldn’t worry. She’s also fluent in Korean, something Stella was not, and will be able to heed anything the client wants or doesn’t want. I wouldn’t worry at all.”

“Lovely,” his manager said, turning to you. “We have a little area for you to get set up if our preliminary setup wasn’t to your liking. We have a few instructions for what the designer is looking for as well. After his appearance tonight, we’d like you to demo tomorrow’s look so that we can accept or deny anything. He’s nearly done with outfitting, so it shouldn’t be long.”

It was standard protocol, stuff you’d heard every time you shadowed Stella or Yuri at similar events, yet you felt like you didn’t understand a thing. Nevertheless, you smiled and nodded, bidding goodbye to your boss and following her to your station.

They’d set it up perfectly, allowing everything to be easily grabbed among a sea of products and tools. There was a sleek, black chair in front of you, and you were easily able to lower it to a better height for you. His manager left, and you sat in the bathroom, alone.

The first thing you did was take out your phone and enter a mostly unused group chat that hailed from your high school days. The last time someone had talked was last year, and it was discussing how an old classmate was already married with two kids—they were not gonna believe this one.

“My client for New York Fashion Week is Lee Jeno from NCT.”

Instantly, texts began flooding in, ones of disbelief and shock.

“No fucking way, you liar!!!”

“Make him fall in love with you!!!”

“Kiss him for me omg.”

You smiled, giggling at your phone. Then, the sound of heels clacking on the ground like mini-earthquakes caused you to practically throw your phone on the counter. You dropped your purse next to it, standing up straight and hoping you didn’t look too much like a deer in headlights. He walked in, wearing the most intense heels you’d ever seen and, once again, not wearing a shirt.

“Hello,” he greeted, and your mind immediately switched over to Korean-mode. You hoped you wouldn’t fail at speaking it, given you hadn’t spoken it much since you’d started working this job.

“Hi!” you exclaimed, hoping you didn’t sound too idiotic. “Um, go ahead and sit down, and we can start.”

He nodded, following your orders to the T. His manager stepped in, leaning against the door while she scrolled on his phone. You picked up a piece of paper, reading over what today’s directions were.

Natural with a slight enhancement of features, exactly like Stella had said. You could do that easy-peasy.

“Is there anything in particular you want me to focus on?” you asked, picking up the sheerest foundation they had. It was certainly a shade too light—you nearly frowned at this, but kept your composure—but you hoped the transparency of it would obscure that.

Jeno thought for a moment before shaking his head, smiling at you. “Do whatever you think is best.”

“All right,” you nodded. “Oh! By the way, I’m [First], and I’m your main makeup artist for this week.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, relaxing in the chair. “I’m glad I’ll have one familiar face around.”

“Me too.” You began to paint the foundation onto his face, basking in the moment of shock you went through. You were doing Lee Jeno’s makeup—Lee Jeno, who you’d fawned over and loved all throughout your high school years.

“You’re new to this?” he asked, looking at you while not moving his face at all. You swear your heart palpitated at his question, even if it was a meaningless formality more than it was actual curiosity.

“Um, I guess? I’ve been interning for about eight months now. Hoping for an official position once the year-long residency is up,” you said, laughing nervously for the ninetieth time today. “You’ve been doing this for six years now, right?”

Jeno’s eyes widened for a split second, and you wondered if that had been the wrong thing to say. You doubted he wanted to hear that you were an NCT fan way back when, given how awful the sasaeng presence was for his group.

“Wow, you know?” and a smile blossomed on his face, causing your heart to beat even faster. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone who knew NCT while I was here.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you said, putting your foundation brush down and picking up an eyeshadow palette. “NCT are huge. Up there in terms of international fame. I’ll bet most—if not all—people here know who NCT are or have heard the name. Plus, a bunch of people will come to see you. Promise.”

God, you probably sounded immature and awful as you said that. You finished lightly outlining his natural features with a very light brown, uncomfortably setting down the palette. Suddenly, an idea came to you, and you hoped it didn’t look too stupid.

“I guess you’re right,” Jeno finally said, his smile dropping in the slightest. He must’ve been nervous; you would have been too. In a new country, alone, with none of the seven people you’d spent your whole adolescence with…you’d be horrified too.

You scoured the cart for any sort of brown eyeliner, feeling a bit calmer knowing Jeno didn't think you were an embarrassing idiot. Taking the brown eyeliner, you paused, biting your lip.

“Um, would you mind if I kind of…held your face for a second? It would just be a second, not too long or anything.”

“No, no.” Jeno shook his head. “Go right ahead.”

Softly, you pressed your fingers against his face, trying to keep your hand as steady as possible. You gently pulled his skin, widening the range in which the eyeliner could reach. His skin was impossibly soft, and you could only begin to wonder how long his morning routines must have been. He was perfect.

As cleanly as possible, you pressed the tip of the eyeliner to the beauty mark right under his eye, filling it in as dark as possible. That was his most noticeable and memorable feature, in your opinion, and having it stand out seemed ideal to you.

You pulled away, staring at his face for a second. He almost looked better before you’d started, but you shook off the feeling and smiled. “I’m just gonna put on some tinted lip balm and you’ll be on your way.”

You picked up the small tube, twisting it up so that the slightest bit would protrude from it. You placed your fingers on his face to steady your hands once again, gently brushing on the light pink gel.

If you were insane enough, you would have kissed him.

“You’re all good!” you announced, smiling. “Go out there and wow the world in your 90cm heels.”

He chuckled at your joke, standing and instantly towering over you. You practically had to look straight up to see him comfortably. “I’ll see you soon, [First].”

He and his manager left the room, leaving you alone. You assumed you should just wait until he returned, so you sat down in the makeup chair, basking in the warmth he’d left behind.

—

To no one’s surprise, you’d fallen in love—or, had a really intense crush on—with Lee Jeno over the two days you’d worked for him.

Every time you were left alone with him, taking his makeup off or retouching it before he went back out into the world, he fired questions at you and you fired them back. You felt like you’d known Jeno for years, even if it had only been two days.

When he left, you knew he’d stop thinking about you, too—in a world surrounded by the country’s most beautiful people, you didn’t stand a chance at occupying even a sliver of his mind. Or, maybe you did; maybe your absolute unremarkableness in a sea of greats stood out to him.

You saw him walk in through his reflection in the mirror, alone, manager not in tow. He wasn’t supposed to be here, so you didn’t move from the makeup chair, simply looking up from your phone and staring at him through his reflection. “Did something happen?” you asked, finally looking towards him. A simple sweep of his face showed no flaws in his makeup, so he had no reason to be here. “I don’t see anything wrong.”

“Will you meet with me tonight?” he finally asked, looking at you with a sort of desperation in his eyes. “I want to see you before I leave. I won’t be back in tonight. My manager’s about to come tell you that you’re free to go home, but…please don’t go home.”

You sighed, thinking about how idiotic it would be to ride the train home, alone, to Newark at night. If you were thinking reasonably, you should’ve said no. If you were thinking reasonably, you would’ve considered the chance that all eyes were on Jeno right now, and being caught sneaking into his hotel room past 7pm would have resulted in your face all over the internet.

“What time?”

“If you’re okay waiting, I’m staying at this hotel, so…I could let you into my room after my manager tells you. Room 1911 on the nineteenth floor. Okay?”

You should’ve said no. You really should’ve said no.

Instead, you nodded, mumbling a quiet “okay.” The smile that appeared on his face after that was brighter than you’d ever seen him smile over the past two days, and, with that, he disappeared from the room. You picked your phone up off your lap, wondering what your friend would say to you after hearing all of that.

“Girl, bring a pen,” she joked, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Nothing’s gonna happen. I won’t be signing any NDAs. I’m not going to initiate anything, and I won’t let him initiate anything. We live thousands of miles away from each other, and I don’t want to kill myself with emotion.”

“You say that…” your friend trailed off, giggling. “Well, I guess I should hang up then. Seems like the manager is coming to let you down gently—d’ya think she knows?”

“I hope to god she doesn’t.”

The line went dead, and you slowly lowered your phone from your ear, staring at the wall. If you could sit down in a room with your sixteen-year-old self and tell her, “In six years, you’ll be having an emotional fling with Lee Jeno from NCT,” she’d laugh and call you too lame for that.

Just like it was forewarned, Jeno’s manager came in with a smile on her face and a small, pink gift bag in her hands. “[First],” she began, watching as you stood up from the chair to face her. She handed you the small bag, which had an interesting sort of heft to it—you wondered what it was. “I’m happy to let you know that we’re done for today, and you’re officially relieved of your duties. I’ve let your boss know that you did a wonderful job for us and for Jeno, and to certainly consider upping your position from intern to an official employee.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, half-bowing. “I’m thrilled to have the opportunity, and I had a wonderful time working for you.”

“Well then,” she said, wiping her hands together. “You’re off! Have a safe trip home, and treat yourself well!”

“Thank you!”

And you slipped out the door, practically running towards the elevator. You bobbed and weaved through people in the halls and realized it would be a better idea to take the stairs up, so that’s exactly what you did. The sheer adrenaline of sneaking up to a top idol’s room fueled you to keep going up and up, even if it felt like the air had been suffocated from your lungs.

Each new step made you feel more insane. This bond you’d formed with a boy you barely knew—it felt ridiculous. It felt dangerous. Nevertheless, you kept going—up, and up, and up. Up, towards an impending doom you could’ve avoided.

Reaching the door with the big nineteen on it must’ve been what people felt like when they reached an oasis in the desert. You pushed the door open with ragged breaths and a weak physique, trudging down the hall with heavy legs. You counted the numbers on the doors, finding yourself at the one in the middle of a dead-end hall.

1911. You knocked twice, and the door was thrown up—Jeno grabbed your arm and tugged you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. “Not to hold you captive or anything,” he said sheepishly, looking through the peephole of the door. “But you need to stay here until, um, 7ish? You can watch TV or something. The room’s already been swept for bugs, so feel comfortable…okay? I’ll be back.”

Someone knocked on the door, and you wondered whether or not you would’ve been dead meat if you hadn’t been fueled by pure adrenaline as you walked up the stairs.

“Jeno! We need you now!”

Jeno ushered you out of sight from the door, grabbing his keycard off the decorative table that sat near the door. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, half-nodding at you. You both stared at each other for a second, with you still trying to catch your breath from your 7-flight hike up here.

Then, without any warning, Jeno walked up to you, grabbed your shoulders, and pressed a feathery kiss to your lips. It was fast, chaste, too quick for you to understand what was happening before someone was banging on the door again and he was rushing out to meet them.

The door slammed shut behind him, and you stood there, wondering what in the world you’d done to deserve this.

–

It was 7:30 now, and Jeno hadn’t shown up. You were beginning to get antsy, making sure the curtains obscured the whole room every twenty minutes and attempting to focus on the TV show you decided on. Of course, it never worked, and you were constantly picking up your phone and trying to find anything to keep yourself occupied.

So, when the door opened and a boy with 5-and-a-half-inch heels stepped inside, you felt a sudden wave of relief rush through you in waves. You stood up from the bed, letting your phone fall onto the duvet as you watched him walk deeper into the room. Jeno practically ripped the shoes off, sighing in relief now that he was finally free from the heels.

“Sorry,” he said, a bit out of breath. You would be too if you had to walk in those heels.

“For what?”

“Earlier.” You mentally took yourself through those chain of events, remembering the first 30-minutes of alone time in which you had attempted to process it, and then the succeeding 3-and-a-half hours in which you had tried to forget it. “I didn’t ask.”

“Um, it’s okay,” you said, trying not to shrink into yourself. “I didn’t mind that much.”

If you were more honest, you would’ve said, “It haunted me a bit, but then I learned to live with the shock.” Were you angry? Not at all. Was being kissed by a celebrity, an idol with a manicured personality, that you were in love with in high school shocking and hard to process? Yes.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, turning away as Jeno pulled his fancy polo shirt over his head and opted to change into an SM Town concert t-shirt. When the rustling of clothes was over, you looked to see him in complete lounge wear rather than just a new shirt, and now you were thinking about how Lee Jeno changed in the same room as you.

He took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, and it was silent again. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him, or maybe it was your mind making it up simply because you were so close to him. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you felt like shoving your face into a pillow and screaming like a teenage girl.

“Look,” he started, suddenly turning towards you. You half-mimicked his action, knowing that, if you looked him in the eye, you’d practically melt. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. I feel like I was always meant to cross paths with you, like—like it was destined, or something. I know it’s only been two days, and I know I’m flying across the world tomorrow, but can we please keep in touch?”

You cleared your throat and, inexplicably, you felt like crying. This felt impossible—no amount of bad sleep schedules and bad planning would keep you two in the know with each other. And, every time he came back to New York, you’d repeat this cycle over and over again. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

“I guess, but…” you felt bad feeling him relax and then immediately tense up again beside you. Mustering up all of your courage, you turned towards him completely, locking eyes. “You have to promise me you won’t forget about me and leave me cold turkey, okay? My life isn’t like yours. It’s slower. It’s easier to build connections. So, if you…if you just promise—”

“I promise,” he cut you off, faster than you could even comprehend it. Once again, he cupped your face in his hands, looking at you with such gorgeous eyes that you could’ve passed out right then and there. He was the son of Aphrodite, the living manifestation of pure and unbridled beauty, the type you can't contest even if you wanted to. He was everything you were not, and, yet, he still seemed so infatuated with you.

“Okay.”

Jeno pressed his forehead against yours, and for a moment, you just stood there. You draped your arms around his neck, and, for a moment, you just sat there. Basking in the presence of each other, something you wouldn’t get for a long time after tonight. If there even was an “after tonight,” that is—there was always the chance that you’d never hear from Lee Jeno again after this, and you’d fade away into nothing but a memory in his mind.

Or, maybe it was the opposite. Maybe you’d talk every day, sending pictures and calling when viable. Maybe you’d look at makeup artist listings at SM Entertainment without telling, applying and destroying the whole world you’d worked so hard to build here in New York. Maybe you’d send him a picture of you on a plane and a time, and you’d fly, and you’d land, and you’d be met with him in his full glory.

Maybe you’d have one of those romance-movie moments, the type of moment you’d see on a Hallmark Christmas movie, where you ran and hugged each other, where he lifted you off the ground and spun you around. Where you kissed amongst a huge crowd of people, trying to get to their final destination and glaring at you stopping in the middle of the walkway.

Or, maybe you were delusional. You didn’t care, because, as Jeno connected his lips with yours for the second time tonight, much slower and more thought out, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this was something new.

thank you for reading!

[ekrubynaffit]

Gonna get things off my chest post

So I haven't been very active in almost a year, and I can say because it's been a really horrible hard year for us. My eldest who is nearly 16 was attacked in June last year by a group of kids while he was out with his girlfriend celebrating their one year anniversary, he had his shoes stolen right off his feet and was whacked round the back of his head and one of the kids (there were 12-14 kids around just those 2) tried to force him up so they could all take a turn trying to beat him up. Since then he's been suffering from anxiety and depression and ptsd. He's gone missing in the dead of night twice and has said on multiple occasions he wants to end things. We are still in court proceedings as because of his footage the police were able to itendify these kids as the same group that have been doing calculated gay bashings to adult men and almost leaving them for dead at times. So far they have been charged with 11 of these hate crimes plus my sons, so it has been a very long stressful process for us! We are still waiting on counselling for him and are getting really desperate for help from the mental health sector.

Then just before christmas my husband had COVID and now has been diagnosed with long COVID, has been having heart and lung problems and a lot of lack of sleep and then to top it off, diagnosed with high cholestrol, and now they want to send him for tests for colon cancer. So thats a whole lot of new stress as we were told this at the start of the week.

Because of the stress my mental health has taken a toll and the final straw came for me when I sat watching a show and started bawling like I'd lost my best friend when a character died. So I went to the docs for medication which has been helping. To top that all off I have really bad back problems lately that I was sure was siatica but tests have shown absolutely nothing wrong, but yet the pain is indeed real!

So long story short, life is shit right now, and if anyone reading this feels like they are suffering mental health (or any health problem) please get it checked! If you have a lot on your plate and feeling the strain the first thing needed is to help yourself so you can be there for others!

So today I've finally had a chance to sit down and open my sims, its been almost a year and I found this build in the works, which is a reno of one of my first builds I ever uploaded to mts! Hopefully I can work on this more and get it finished!

Sorry for the big long story, I don't usually talk about my personal life here, but opening up the game made me realise I haven't used the sim as my stress relief in almost a year just wanted to share why I haven't been very active.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours - Epilogue

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: mentions of mental illness (PTSD, anxiety), mentions of therapy, short & sweet with fluff

I can't believe I'm wrapping up the second part of this story. It's wild to me how much y'all loved this and even more wild that I've decided to write a third part! You might be able to guess the title after reading the epilogue. Thank you all so very much for your support!

Colson

Three Months Later 

Presley received a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. PTSD.

I should’ve seen it coming. All the signs were there. At least now we have a name for what’s happening, as well as a treatment plan. 

Couples therapy once a week. Individual cognitive behavior therapy twice a week. Medication for panic attacks as needed as well as a daily anxiety pill. I find myself feeling very thankful for our financial situation. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to get help for people who don’t make much money. That’s why there's such a mental health crisis in our country. As mad as it makes me, I’m relieved that I can provide support for my wife.

At our first couples therapy session, we both cried. A lot. Presley admitted that she blames herself for the choice I almost made. She can’t let go of the fact that if Cash hadn’t shown up, I would’ve gone through with it. The therapist told her that if we always live in a world of what-ifs, then we can never live in the present. It’s something we’ve been working on ever since.

We’re closer than ever after what happened. We’re so good at talking things out and taking care of each other. We’re at the point where I can leave the house without Pres if I need to as long as I give her a heads up. It’s not like she’s “healed” yet. Healing is a long process but I’m confident we can get there.

The boys and I are going on tour finally. We delayed it because of everything that happened, but when we finally put tickets on sale, everything sold out fast. Somehow, the whole Megan situation brought us more fans. I’m not complaining. We’ve even added a couple of dates at bigger places and those are almost sold out, too. It’s crazy and surreal and I’m so proud of us.

Presley is going to come on tour with us, and this time, she’ll be around for the whole tour. I loved touring with Pres. I loved coming backstage to find her there, to catch her in my arms. It means so much to look out and see her smiling back at me, singing all my songs. It fills my heart with so much love that I don’t even know what to do with it. 

We leave tomorrow. I’ve been packing all day and Presley is due home any time. She went out for lunch with Olivia. Once a week, she’s encouraged to leave the house without me. She’s been following the plan religiously and doing such a good job, but I do miss her. I can’t wait to see her, to hold her. I can’t wait to have her on tour with me. 

Just as I zip up my suitcase, I hear the front door open and I smile, eager to see my girl. I rush out of my room and jog down the stairs, but I stop in my tracks when I see my wife. Something is off. 

She stands stiffly in the doorway holding an envelope with something inside of it. My brow furrows as I glance at the envelope and then up at her face. She looks worried but also…happy? Her eyes are especially bright today. 

“Pres?” I question, walking closer. I place my hands on her waist. 

“Hey, babe,” she says quietly. Her voice shakes a little.

I frown at her. “What’s wrong?”

“I…um…” She bites her lip and then hands me the envelope. “Just open it.”

Confused, I take a step back from her so I have room to reach into the envelope. My brow furrows when I pull out…a Covid test? “Shit, baby,” I say, stomach dropping. “You have Covid?”

She shakes her head, face screwing up in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?” 

“This is a positive Covid te–” I stop in my tracks when I realize what a fucking dumbass I am. I look at the test again, my eyes going so huge it must look comical. This is not a Covid test. No, it’s got a pink cap and a screen with a plus sign. I lift my eyes to Presley, my own dangerously close to shedding tears. “Presley…” I breathe.

Presley lets out a little laugh as her own eyes fill with tears. “Yeah.”

“Is this…this is real?” I ask, bouncing on my toes. “Are you sure?”

Presley giggles and the tears finally spill down her cheeks. “This is one of three tests I took. All positive,” she says. She takes it from my hand and sets it on a little table by our front door. Then, her jade eyes find mine again. “Colson,” she says, then takes a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Time stands still. My heart suddenly feels too big for my chest, like it’s going to explode out of me. My palms tingle and elation builds in my stomach. “R-really?” I ask quietly. 

Presley nods, lip quivering, but she smiles. “We’re having a baby, Colson. You’re going to be a dad.”

It’s those words that finally break me out of my trance. I lunge forward and heave my girl into my arms. She shrieks as I lift her up, her legs surrounding my waist. I laugh and kiss her hard, rocking her in my arms. My tears spill out, too. A baby. I’m going to be a dad. We’re going to be parents.

“I know we’re going on tour and it’s not the best time,” she says breathlessly against my lips.

I shake my head. “It’s the perfect time,” I say, because I don’t care what’s happening in our lives. We’re having a baby. I laugh again and kiss her lips, holding the back of her head while my other arm holds her up. 

“So you’re happy?” she asks.

“God, Pres,” I laugh. “I’m fucking ecstatic. This is the best day of my life!”

Presley laughs tearfully and nods. “Mine, too.”

“I love you,” I say, kissing her again. “So much.” When I pull back from the kiss, I glance down between us. I set Presley on her feet and sink to my knees. My hands go to her belly, still flat and toned, but soon enough, it’ll be perfectly round, carrying our child. I smile to myself and press a kiss to her belly. Presley runs her hands through my hair and looks at me lovingly.

I take a shaky breath and look at her stomach. “Little bean,” I say softly, “this world is yours.”

Taglist: @triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker@anonymousme86@whiteleoqueen@feroniakutenpuu@hxllywoodwhxree

[waterlilyrose]

I was referring to the nursing back to health one. Oh, and if its angsty even better. Thank you. 😘

Oh that one! Haha I have a list.

Yes, I've written a strong start to that.

Here's the preview:

Flu season was in full swing in London town. Since the start of New Years, Kate had seen the people all around her coming down with sore throats, a consistent cough and the need to blow their nose. The winter had been bitterly cold and miserable and, just because people weren’t wearing masks anymore, didn’t mean COVID had just disappeared. The likelihood of sickness was extremely high for everyone. Yet when Kate started to feel distinctly under the weather, she didn’t make the link that it was a sign of worse to come. Because Kate Sharma didn’t get sick – it didn’t happen. She was far too busy for that.

Well, apparently her immune system didn’t get the memo because when Sunday evening approached, she started to cough a bit and feel a bit weak. She made herself a nice cup of chai before deciding to go to bed early. She had a lot to do the next day at work – she had a meeting that her boss had been planning or stressing about for weeks.

Kate took some paracetamol and fell asleep. The next morning, she woke to her alarm going off and promptly wished she hadn’t – she felt awful. Her head-ached terribly, she felt hot all over and her throat felt like it was full of nettles.

No, no, no, not now. Not today – I haven’t got time for this!

The first thing she did was take a lateral flow test. Mary had got her and Edwina several of the COVID tests from the local pharmacy when the pandemic was at its worst and they had proved very useful. Kate was weak with relief when the test showed only one line – negative. Okay, well, that was relief. So…this was probably a trifling cold then? Well, she lived alone in her own apartment and both Edwina and Mary were away for at least a week each so they couldn’t catch it through the phone. Kate packed her handbag with tissues and paracetamol before getting ready for her day.

Trouble was...everything took twenty times the effort it normally did. She threw on the first outfit in her wardrobe, slipped on her comfiest shoes (she couldn’t handle anything heeled that day) and nearly poked herself in the eye twice with her mascara wand. When she got to her car, she needed to just sit in the driver’s seat for ten minutes trying to get her breath before she had the strength to start the car.

By the time she got to her desk (how could an elevator ride to the tenth floor leave her feeling so tired?), she was tempted to get the pile of papers in her tray, dump them in front of her and rest her head on them for a nap. Why were bright lights so…well, bright?

“Ah, Sharma, there you are.” Kate was distracted from wanting to throw her computer out of the office window by the arrival of the one person she desperately could have done without seeing. Anthony Bridgerton was approaching – her previously mentioned boss. He wasn’t technically her boss (Kate reported to Lady Danbury, not him) but he was higher up than her and she technically had to work with him on projects from time-to-time so Kate liked to view anyone more senior than her as someone to be polite to encase they made your life difficult. A pointless endeavour because, while Kate never swore at him, she knew she could be sarcastic at times. But that was only because Bridgerton was the most annoying man she had ever encountered. Lady Danbury had said absolutely nothing in regards to her and Bridgerton (either to admonish or support her) so Kate assumed she was fine. Kate was free to make Bridgerton furious with her comebacks.

And free to stare at him in secret as he laughed with Fife from accounting, wore smart suits like they were made to highlight his charms (they probably were) and imagine him at night when she slipped a hand into her sleep-shorts.

(She had long stopped denying he wasn’t the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.)

Kate normally had annoying flutter in her chest when he came to her desk (sometimes just to see how he could annoy her). Now though – her heart was already working overtime trying to keep her going so Bridgerton didn’t get much more than a twinge.

“Bridgerton.” Kate tried to get the papers she would need for their meeting out of her tray. “The meeting isn’t until ten so if you need to go over-”

“Are you alright?” Kate looked back at him. His voice had gone from bracing and business-like to...concerned? He definitely didn’t look pleased at the sight of her. “You don’t look so good.”

Kate touched her forehead and tried to wipe the sweat gathering there away. “I’m fine – it’s just a cold.”

Bridgerton didn’t look satisfied – not at all. “If you’re sick, why did you come in? You should have-”

“You’ve been bitching about this meeting for weeks.” Kate snapped, probably a bit more harshly than usual but her patience was not at its best. A rising temperature will do that, Kate mused. “We get this done, you can chill out and I can go on with my day in peace. Sound good?”

She really must have looked awful because Bridgerton didn’t even contradict her. He wanted to, that was clear from the thinness of her lips, but seemed to think better of arguing with her. A sad state of affairs because Bridgerton and Kate argued about twenty times a week.

“Well...okay. I’ll call you when...yeah.” Bridgerton seemed unsure what to do so drifted off back toward his own office, leaving Kate to sit at her desk and pretend to sort through papers.

Ten minutes later, the air-con was switched on in the office and Kate found relief in the cold air that was blowing near her desk. It probably would have continued to be a pleasant respite if Cressida Cowper hadn’t complained so loudly that the ‘wind was messing up her hair’ and someone was forced to turn it off. Penelope, the latest admin clerk, even kindly asked her if she wanted a cup of tea but Kate declined. She tried not to dwell on the fact the air-con controls were in Bridgerton’s office or that Pen was sat at a desk very close to that office.

[novelcain]

OKAY! So when I was about 10/13 years old my mom took me to get a check up.. perfectly normal right? What could possibly go wrong.. oh yeah I was also there to get my shots.. I hate getting shots, always have always will.. it’s the syringe needles!! the fact that I know they have to be hollow enough for stuff to go in and out of the inside of those things is just wrong to me.. 😟 Anyway me and my Mom get there and everything SEEMS to be alright.. until the doctor comes back and says I have to get EVERY! SINGLE! SHOT! SINCE BIRTH!! OVER AGAIN!!!

Ya wanna know why??? BECAUSE THEY LOST ALL MY MEDICAL RECORDS!! ALL OF THEM!! 😡

Like okay yeah, shit happens I guess..

But.. my colorful, sugary sour Overlord.. They didn’t lose literally ALL my medical records once.. NOT twice!! NO no no no… BUT THREE FUCKING TIMES!!! In.. a.. row.. 😑 And all in the same Year.. I shit you not. 😤

Sssoooo yeah, I’m a bit traumatized and HATE going to the Doctor.. 😰

SO! 2020!! Covid shows up and I have to get a vaccine shot.. my Mom bless her heart comes with me, and I have to fill out the form… I spent an embarrassingly long time trying to write down my date of birth..

I was shaking so bad and ended up handing the paper & pen over to my Mom… Because I couldn’t remember which way the number 3 faced.. I was having a freaking mini panic attack.. at 21 🥲

I also had a panic attack & nearly fainted when I had to get my molars removed and the nurse showed up with the iv bag.. and I finally realized I was getting the syringe not the gas.. hadn’t panicked the whole time till that poor lady strolled in.. I think I scared her a lil when I started hyperventilating and asking my mom, wh-what what? What??? But it turned out okay!! That incident happened when I was about 18 I think..

🎃~

BRUH i know what you mean with the hating needles thing! I have had nothing but bad experiences with them. Like when I was younger I'd have to get allergy shots every week so I already HATED shots bc of that but then one day this super old bitch gave me my shot and literally stuck me so hard that the needle scraped my fucking bone! My bicep hurt for a whole month I couldn't do anything!

And then this one time I was in middle school and I had to get my blood drawn for testing, and some info about me I have always had very thick skin, and the nurse tried to use a butterfly needle but when she tried putting it in the damn thing broke against my skin! Anyways, everyone panicked for a hot sec and now it's in my file somewhere that they have to use big needles on me now! LIKE THE FUCK!?!?🤬🤬🤬

Ugh! If I sat here and told you all my needle stories we'd be here all day.

But my gods, how they gonna lose your damn records THREE FUCKIN TIMES!!!??? It's called a fuckin computer system you numb skulls! If it's really that hard to input the data yourselves then ffs just scan a pic of the records and save that!

Me: On behalf of my fruity heh subject, Skittle's gonna sue! *sprinkes dark matter on them bitches*

But fr tho same with the covid thing. In order to get my second vaccine I had to be drugged before going, and I STILL had a panic attack the whole time, not cause of my fear of needles tho. I mean it was a little bit because of the needles but mainly because of the agoraphobia. I think that was really the first instance of me being unable to function alone in public. I had to have Ritz and her mom there to talk for me and fill out the paper work cause I couldn't. I was shaking, I couldn't communicate outside of nodding to Ritz, and I couldn't even look at anyone other than Ritz. There were a few times I almost passed out inside of the clinic waiting room. I'm pretty sure now that I think about it that that was the last time I was out in public at all and that was almost 2 years ago. Definitely was NOT a good motivator to make me do it again lol. Sorry this is low key embarrassing for me to talk about and I honestly spent 30 minutes just deleting this and rewriting it over and over again before deciding to keep it

[ckmstudies]

Day 23/100

Tl;dr: I have strep, I have exams Wednesday, Thursday, and next Monday and my birthday is coming up this week. Very busy week coming up!

Today started with me going to the doctor's office. The good news is that I tested negative for Covid twice and I tested negative for strep throat. However, I know that I have been exposed to strep and the doc said since my throat “looks like that” he went on ahead and started me on strep antibiotics which included two shots as well as meds to take every 12 hours. But if this is what gets me better by Thursday then I’ll take it!

After the doctor's office, I got lunch with friends (outside) and went to Latin. We have an exam on Wednesday and so we reviewed a good bit today. I got a 95 on my quiz from Friday which is great except that the only reason I did so well is that she’s not grading very hard. This is nice because this class is supposed to be an easy A but it does not inspire me to study at all. After Latin, I went straight to developmental psychology which is my favorite class. It's just so interesting and it’s a very joyful class since we’re currently talking about babies.

After classes, I took a quick nap, started washing clothes, ate spaghetti, watched an episode of Modern Family, and did the dishes I had in the sink. Once I was satisfied with all my chores, I started working on my assignments for social psychology. We have an exam in that class on Thursday and I missed turning in an assignment this weekend. Thankfully I emailed my professor and he let me turn it in for half credit. Then I did a multiple choice quiz which took me 4 out of 5 chances to make a 100 but I did finally get the 100. After that, I put all the terms from the book into an Anki deck and went through 1/3 of the terms. Based on my calculations I need to make an 87 or higher on this exam to get an A in this class which at this point sounds very difficult. My plan tomorrow is to sit in the library for hours reading my textbook. But sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do! I’ll also have Latin tutoring in the library tomorrow night at 7:30 in order to prepare for that exam on Wednesday. Not to mention I’ll have a developmental psych exam a week from today, I have strep, and I’m currently planning my 22nd birthday dinner and party for this Thursday and Friday. It never ends but I wouldn’t want it any other way!!

Also! I hope you enjoy this picture I took this afternoon of my and my roommates’ common room while I was getting chores done. I thought the lighting was gorgeous!

[koala-confessions]

Introductions

I have always been an over achiever. A perfectionist if you will. Raised by a drug addict mother and an equally addicted but absent father, I was surprisingly well adjusted. I graduated at 16, became a supervising CNA before I was 18, got married, had a baby, got divorced, got married again, had 2 more, got divorced. Got into an awful abusive relationship where I literally fought for my life. Left him at 33.

I spent a whole year single and for the first time, learned who I was. What my hobbies were, my likes and dislikes, my own values and morals. At the end of that year, I was rewarded with David. I fell hard and fast for this beautiful man who taught me what love was. I found it. the secret to happiness and life. I was madly in love. Our relationship was so strong. There was only one thing stronger than our love for each other. His love for heroin. My healthiest, happiest relationship was with a heroin addict. In his chase for heroin and my chase to keep him safe from himself, I found myself doing things I'd never thought I would do. We stole with abandon. We took care of his addiction and our family at any cost. My morals fell away. I also fell in love with meth.

In my head, I was a functioning addict, we still took care of and spent time with the kids. We paid our bills, even if the money was dirty. We were in love. Crazy in love. I didn't need anyone else ever. As long as I had David.

We were married New Year's Eve 2020. I was just getting over COVID. It was the happiest day of my life. I don't recall all my vows but I know that I said, " I know that I have trouble deciding on everything, and it is a pet peeve of yours. That is why we are late to EVERYTHING and have dinner at 1 in the morning. But I have never, in my life, been more sure of anything, than that I want to spend it with you."

Those words still echo in my mind today. They echoed the loudest March 08, 2021 when he was gunned down by the police in front of my then 7 year old son while he screamed for his dad. It was all very public. My grief. He was villainized in the worst possible ways. Attacked on all ends. Reporters, ignorant people, filled my messenger inbox. Our wedding pictures stolen from my facebook, nothing was private, everything was on display.

A few days later I found his other love heroin. She comforted me for a long time. I also fell in love with the syringe. Then my morals fell away. My kids took a back burner. Everything took a backburner to the numbness I craved more than anything. Anything to escape the pain. Suicide, I tried twice. I fucked that up too. I watched as my humanity and my life, everything I was, everything I worked for fell away. The felonies built.

Fast forward 3 short years, I am a 4 time felon fresh out of jail on my last chance. I am fighting to get my kids back. Blessedly, they have loved me unconditionally through it all and I only lost them recently. They will be home in a few short months. I am in Las Vegas in a program called drug court. I was just released Valentine's Day 2024. I spent 110 days in the local jail CCDC fighting for this opportunity, to spare me from prison. It is said, CCDC stands for Cant Complete Drug Court instead of Clark County Detention Center, and the odds are certainly stacked against me. 6% of participants complete the rigorous program. I was released to Crossroads, a rehabilitation program and stay at Koala house, a transitional living where around 150 men and women also live although only about 15 of us are court ordered. I attend class 3 days a week, 3 hours a day. i have a judge I see weekly, I have a court coordinator I ask permission for everything, I attend meetings daily, I drug test randomly at ATI and have an ankle bracelet called SCRAM and an officer I have to alert of my movements. I have a probation officer and a therapist. I have a case manager and will soon start paralegal school and a job. I am not allowed to do anything or go anywhere that doesn't involve one of these things except for 3 hours Saturday morning when I am allowed to grocery shop. The program is not meant to be easy. It is meant to set you up for success, if you want it. You have to want it bad. I also have a sponsor and am working the steps.

I fast forwarded through my entire life which I am writing a book about. I want this blog to reflect the inner workings of my mind on my journey to healing, growth, insight and recovery. I don't care how many people read or don't, but for those that do maybe they will find insight or gain courage through my words. I want an ever lasting memory of this journey which may be my hardest one yet.

So, I will publicly post my inner most thoughts and struggles, my daily journaling. My insights on my path to self discovery and recovery. Here it goes.

[justsome-di]

I caught a cold right before Christmas and then just literally never got any better (it's been over five weeks).

I went away for a weekend and when I got back home, I was even worse.

And from that point on I just never got better. I've been coughing, and my throat's been so sore I can barely swallow, and my nose has been running and congested at the same time. I've been super tired, too, but unable to sleep through the night because I wake myself up coughing. A few times, I've woken up because my throat has been that sore. the pain woke me up.

It's been getting annoying at work because I keep coughing when trying to help people. I've been keeping cough drops on me. My hands are chapped from washing them so often.

Right when I think I'm feeling better, I end up feeling worse over weekends when I think everything is going to clear up with sleep.

I've tested negative for Covid twice, and I was getting worried that they were false negatives.

Then yesterday my mom looked at the three giant poinsettias that have been in our living room for a month and she asked, "Do you think you're maybe allergic to poinsettias?"

I said I've never been allergic before, and she said well we've never had so many before.

So she took the poinsettias out of the house yesterday.

I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. I can breathe again. I'm still coughing a little bit, but it's not as bad.

I was being poisoned by poinsettias for a month.

[fishthegenderwitch]

I've had COVID twice. The first time, I was deep into "just get through it, work depends on you, you will survive in order to live up to your work obligations" and was sick for months. I horrified co-workers by wheezing like a zombie with rattling throat flesh. I wanted to die. Felt like I HAD many times already, that I was just coasting through purgatory till I got to hell, convinced I was there anyway.

The second time it was an irritant, I felt like vaguely microwaved death for almost a week, missed two days of work, then went back.

This time is different. I know I don't have COVID this time (tested twice now), so it's a cold or flu. But by gum I am knackered. My SOUL wants a nap.

This makes the third time I've been sick since 2019. I hadn't gotten a cold not flu nor other viral type sickness since 1998. I can tell you I do not care for it, not one little bit.

I'm not good at feeling ill for any length of time. Especially when you're not used to being sick ever, you think you're invincible. Til somebody's germs weasel in and start monkeying around.

If it seems I'm complaining a lot it's because I don't know how else to deal with suddenly feeling powerless and weak and sickly.

Breathing sucks, physical effort sucks more. Having to have a customer service vibe sucks the most. The last person who responded to my greeting said to me, "How ARE you?" And instead of saying anything at all, I just sighed deeply, too exhausted to even think of being a person briefly.

I've been ready to go home since noon. I have 40min left on this shift.

[friend-of-giants]

My 2023 Year in Review

I've seen some others do this so why not?

It was a rough one. My creative motivation was absent nearly the entire year. For the entire first half of 2023 my husband was dealing with health problems and underwent surgery, which ramped up my anxiety to unhealthy levels. He is now just fine and healthy, so for that I am thankful.

Over the summer I thought I would start writing and doing some more art, but got caught up in some fandom drama which entirely ruined whatever motivation I may have had, and I'm still recovering from that.

Did not get Covid but had some weird illness that showed negative on the test, but considering I've had it twice before, I think it actually was Covid. But it wasn't too terrible. Kept me out of work for a week.

I'm really hoping 2024 brings me back to normal. I miss writing my fic, I miss making art and sharing with you all, I miss actively participating in tag games and all that.

To those who were there for me and encouraged me through this time, you know who you are, I appreciate the hell out of you. Thank you all.

Here's to another year 🍷

[imamxdel]

It has been a really long 5 days. August 2023 is a month for the history books of Liv's life.

So...I was just discharged from the hospital. For those who don't know, I've been a charge nurse of an orthopedic/oncology unit for almost 5 years. My job is incredibly stressful, but just as rewarding and it's a very good job in the sense of a comfortable compensation, good hours, and fabulous benefits. And also, I've been in the process of purchasing a condo as a first time home owner...as if the stress of that wasn't killing me, I was laying in bed Sunday night ready to work 3-14 hour shifts in a row and started to feel heart palpitations, aches, and severe shaking.

I could have easily attributed it to the stress of an impending work week and the mental exhaustion of trying to buy a home for the first time. It's not like 26 year old women who work out about 8 hours a week are commonly known for having heart attacks, but I knew something wasn't normal, and decided to call my coworker and tell her I was driving myself to the ER (btw don't do that, please call someone to drive you or dial for an ambulance).

Long story short, all tests for a heart attack or pulmonary embolsim were negative, but my troponin levels were critically high at 398 (normal is less than 40). This specific lab measures the amount of dead cardiac tissue in the blood stream. They ended up admitting me to the critical care cardiac unit as they couldn't find an answer as to why I was showing these type of results.

Another long story short, the cardiologists came to the conclusion that I must have contracted viral myocarditis, AKA an unknown virus that was attacking my heart. I tested negative for covid twice. There is no treatment for this diagnosis as your body has to fight it off on its own, and that they could only manage the symptoms.

So there I am, a decently seasoned (and sorry to brag, but a well known and respected) nurse suddenly experiencing her first time as a patient. I knew the drill pretty well and I'm proud to say that I was an A+ patient! Never hit my call light once (again...I'm probably stubborn). I had my parents bring up my laptop and some clothes, and settled in for the ride.

The doctors basically wanted to keep me until my troponin levels came down. Because I was essentially asymptomatic other than some chest tightness that only exacerbated when I moved around too much, I was literally in the hospital to get poked every 6 hours while strapped on to a heart monitor.

My troponin levels only kept going up. And when I say up, I was discharged this morning with my levels at 902 (the highest I've ever seen in my career) and the same mild symptoms. Luckily, my other heart functions were normal and after a bit of begging and promises to follow up outpatient, they discharged me after 5 days.

Btw, here's a friendly reminder that hospitals are not hotels. You will get poked (sometimes twice if you're veins are crap), you will be woken up from your sleep every 2 hours at night, you're not allowed to shower because you're always hooked up to a cardiac monitor, and always uncomfortable because you're sleeping in a small bed with an IV in your arm running fluids. The food sucks, too, but I didn't have an appetite and barely ate during my admission. I expected all of this and surely were followed through.

I'm currently home now with the recommendation to "take it easy" for the next week. I return to work on Sunday to the same hospital I just spent five days in, because I still love my job, but this experience has only motivated me to be a better nurse.

I cannot begin to explain the gratitude I feel towards my hospital. They took such good care of me despite the frustration of a diagnosis that cannot be treated. The doctors I work next to every day sat down and answered all my questions. The nurses were kind, and even though I never needed help with anything since I was still fully independent, they never hesitated to offer assistance. I'm grateful to all my coworkers who came to visit me; my floor really is one big family and I've always stood behind that. I'm thankful to my parents who dropped everything and paused their chaotic lives to spend time with me in the hospital and cry with me when we kept getting the news that my troponin levels only kept going up. I am humbled by the amount of prayers people said for me. I'm thankful to all the kpop groups I stan that routinely post variety shows because that might have been the only thing keeping me sane when my parents went home. I never want to take my life and my youth for granted again.

Please trust your bodies when something doesn't feel right. I never thought I'd actually be admitted to the hospital, better yet for 5 days on an intensive critical care unit.

[annunnaki7]

ARE DISSABLED PEOPLE LAZY? COULD REALLY DO BETTER IF THEY TRIED HARDER? This is an example of an average bad week, like 6/10 bad on mental health and 5/10 on the physical level. Oh yea it gets so much worst! Read this and tell me how I could have improved.  

MAY 2023 

Sat 29.04.23 

-Asthma bad all night. I coughed myself awake so often I didn't get any deep sleep. 

-Fibromyalgia not happy about this, and is flaring up on its way to STOPPING FLARING up instead! 🤬 Joy! So now going to pee has extra general pain added to it. 

- Allergies & Sinus bad. My nose runs non stop. Used 1/2 roll of toilet paper blowing my nose just today. And no, I don't like waisting things. Throwing meds at it. 

-Managed to work with my carer, sorting paperwork. I can't help with much else anymore. I don't have the hand strength to cut a carrot. That's annoying as taking away from my autonomy. 

Sun 30.04.23

- Allergies & Sinus still bad with non stop daily headaches, with migraine sometimes.

-Fibromyralgia flare. Pain feels like I feel down badement cement stairs or  when I had major surgery on day 3 with 5 days hospital stay. I'm in too much pain to eat. Exhaustion worst than Covid & Pneumonia! 

-Asthma bad. I have to rest for 1 minute every 10-15 meters I walk. Going to the loo takes 5 breaks.

- Urinary incontinence dissability related not happy about so many breaks to get TO the loo. I need buy more trousers! (I used 3 in one day twice this week)

- I'm in so much exhaustion & pain I can't even face watching TV. Strong painkillers increased. I'm not happy. I was hoping to decrease them this week! 

Mon 01.05.23 

-Migraine. 

-Sinus inflamed for past 4 weeks. Related to but not only cause of migraine. I'm a migraine sufferer.

-Fibromyalgia medium flare. Hands hurt as well as eveywere else. A plate is heavy to lift. I can't stab potatoes to zap them in microwave by myself. 

-Hayfever slightly improving.

-If I didn't have a carer coming to help me with a wash, I don't know how I would cope.She helped more today. She's so nice. People don't appreciate them enough.

-Concerned how I'll make hospital appointment of Thursday. And got builders in tomorrow. 

Tuesday 02.05.23

-Migraine at night. 

-All body pain bad. Been worst before though. 

-Builders poped in to say they'll be back tomorrow. And no neither owner nor estate agents told them about all the work needing doing. 

- This is in fact my comparativly, the "best day" to date. I can't sit in a chair re pain. And I have a high pain threshold. Had major surgery and got up by myself the next day when everyone else did on the 3rd day with help. Nurses said it was shocking to see me trot - carefully -  about.

- Hospital appointment of tomorrow changed for latter on. It's not a vital one. 

-District Nurse popped in to assess if I need to worry re swealing in legs. I'll have to go to the specialist clinic after all. 

-Blood Pressure still high & Pulse going nuts. Say hi to all types of allergies as a possible cause! I take the strongest anti histamin, plus 6 over the counter allergy tablets daily. Yep, the specialist doctors advised that. It stop skin for literally falling off and other horror stories! 

Wed 03.05.23 

-Vomited blood all night (5hrs of hurling on off) from ulcer, blood clots included! Yuck! 3rd time in 1 month.

-Day Migraine following as haven't been able to drink much 

-Im past normal exhausted as part of Fibromyalgia. It feels like I did a 14hr shift and haven't slep the next 2 nights. (Yes, I've done that in the past. Joy of nursing & midwifery whilst having dissabilities)

- Spoke to GP, meds increased. I don't want another endoscopy. Don't see what else it will tell us. It's costly to the NHS, I'm going to be in so much pain for at least 2 weeks after due to dissability, not the test. Urinary incontinence will be a pain. I'm not even for resuscitation (DNR) anyways. 

-Not hungry. Disordered eating means it will kick in if I can't eat at all today. Gods even cake don't sound appealing!

- Builders back. Same thing, back tomorrow instead. But now they got the list of job. 

-District Nurse decided I need compression stockings! My severe eczema might not like the extra heat in summer! & Scratchy material.

-Migraine afternoon - nightime.

-Did eat eventually. Yea me! 

Thursday 04.05.23

-Food helped with migraine & dissorted eating. 

- Pain and extreme exhaustion same. I can't hold a plate of food.

- Severe anxiety started in afternoon after flat owner demanding I get the garden clean that night. Message was passed to me by builder at around 4.40pm. to be done by tomorrow morning. Oh yea, I'm dissabled with poor balance, walks some 15-20 meter with 2 stick, uses wheelchair otherwise. And it would get dark even if I miraculously find someone for, ... work that's not urgent! And oh yes, there's no place to eat at the kitchen table due to building work. Like that's not a priority after builders leave rather than garden. Also. Thunder and rain so bad, I though thunder had struck nearby. 

-Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) few times last night (originates from past child abuse) but attacks due to the way the flat owner and estates agent treats me.

Friday 05.05.23

-Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) exacerbated since around 2am started with the stress.

- Headaches back

- Severe anxiety rising progressively

- C-PTSD flash back early morning. Good thing I know how to manage it.

- I ate with carer, yea! Well she made me eat. 

Saturday 06.05.23

-Anxiety still high

-C-PTSD same high during day, not typical of abuse. Definitely flat owner & Estates Agent related.

Sunday 07.05.23

- Actively managing the mental health side of things. 

- Bad Heaches day time 

- Friend brought me yummy KFC. Could only eat a tiny bit. Oh great, that's Dissordered Eating not happy with all the stress!

- Migrainy headach lasted 2-3 hrs. Resolved with management.

-Asthma attack in evening for over 2hrs. Was so rough couldn't do lung capacity measurement until finally calmed down. 

- I won't be able to finish my KFC now. I'm pissed off. I'm so tired of juggling several deseases. It wouldn't be so bad of people acted like human being. 

So. Do you still think I'm leisurely lying around having a relaxing time as a dissabled person?

Did you realise that it takes managing one thing after another everyday? 

So everyone can do better of they "really wanted"? I really wanted to not loose my mortgage and dog. It's my dog I missed the most, not even one of my things. From a Midwife I became homeless. From working 16hrs or work followed by Union Rep work (IE talking to staff, not official meetings before you quote the law) I'm now not able to eat independently at times, or wash alone now. I'm still acting?  Have a good, lazy life? You want to swap?