#sometimes you got to be a little mentally ill in order to get better

[bloodybellycomb]

Me: I feel disgusting and horrible and worthless, I'm going to wallow in these feelings forever :(

The imaginary version of disco elysiums kim kitsuragi who lives inside my brain: those thoughts seem unproductive detective, let's focus on what we can actually do to fix the problem for now, perhaps take a shower?

Me: yes king, you're totally right king, I never want to disappoint you, time for a shower, thank you :)

[princescribbler]

5 Common Misconceptions of ABDLs!

To be clear, these are common misconceptions ABDLs have, not common misconceptions ABOUT us ABDLs!

1. "My kink is so rare!"

Really? Because candidly, abdl, ageplay, and diaper fetishism intersect in a fascinating way. There are diaper fetishists who despise any form of ageplay or regression, there are ageplayers who get off on the Ageplay, or the diapers, or the humiliation, teasing, or any other aspect of the kink. And candidly, you can tell ABDL really isn't that uncommon when the communities that show up are this large and varied. Heck, there's entire communities on reddit with tens of thousands of abdls, and that's just one site (and not the most kink friendly space to begin with.) Add in the fact that many people are very embarrassed or worried about this kink and you've got an even better explanation for why it can FEEL very rare or isolating... but it often comes down to just being hard to find, at first!

2. "Nobody vanilla will accept me! They must all think I'm a freak" (or similar negative expectation setting)

Except.. they do, all the time, every day. I've personally avoided most vanilla relationships, but I know MARRIED abdl couples who started with one partner totally vanilla, and some of the biggest and most successful content creators in this space are well known for having partners not into ABDL.

Simply put, if you assume it'll go wrong and you'll be judged, your body language, words, and tone can be much more nervous and defensive and make your partner feel ill at ease. Try to not go in with negative assumptions!

3. "I have to find a caregiver to feel little!"

Uh... no you don't. Your kink might involve a partner, your desires might include one or more people around to care for you or dominate you or join you in diapered submission... but none of that means you can't enjoy still, and have a GREAT time. You can try to foster your own regressive or littlespace mindset, happily. And you don't need ANYONE else to enable that. If you're expecting that just having sometime else around will fix things, you're sadly incorrect! You need, at some level, to be comfortable enough to not just rely on EXTERNAL enforcement of your abdl side!

4. "I should get rid of [x] because I feel embarrassed/bad/upset!" (Or any similar variant of the binge/ purge mentality)

Binge and purge cycles happen, and can be very emotionally destructive. Try to instead put the object in storage instead of throwing it out, because often your emotional negative response will only get worse when you later regret it or judge your own reaction.

Try to give yourself the space to struggle, but don't just throw things away or destroy them if they're kink items... instead, realize you might feel differently later and give yourself the grace to be allowed to change your mind without any further fear or judgment!

5. "Everybody can tell if I'm padded/ little/ going out discretely!"

No they can't. I could stop there but truly let's consider this: you realize that incontinence is common... shockingly common. You've passed people in adult diapers, pull ups, discrete pads, you've likely even been in a room with another heavily diapered adult and NEVER realized. Because unless you're being obvious, have leaks, or make a point to wear very form fitting clothing, nobody will notice or likely even look! You're much less exposed than your brain makes you think!!

My point is this: be nice to yourself, and work hard to challenge those negative self talk moments that come up for so many abdls. Your interests and desires aren't as rare as you think, more people are ok with it than you realize, nobody can usually tell even if you are padded (and would be more likely to assume it medical than kinky even if they noticed), and struggling with this is normal too!

BE NICER TO YOURSELF: THAT'S THIS PAPI'S ORDERS! You don't deserve to feel bad about something that helps you feel good!

And as always; stay happy, stay healthy, and stay kinky!

- Scribbler

[collapsedglasshouses]

WOULD YOU SAY I'M WORTHY || ONE

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x OFC ; slight Nick Folio x OFC

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY: When Eden meets Noah, her life is anything but perfect. Her heart is far more broken than Noah can even guess at this point. Will he be able to mend the wounds he hadn’t caused?

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, eventually smut, mentions of grief/loss, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of illnesses

A/N: FIRST OF ALL, COVID DOESN'T EXIST IN THIS STORY! Second, hello! :) This is a new series. We will see where this goes. Thank you for everyone joining in before it was even a real idea haha. If you liked the first part, consider reblogging it! Thank you!

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @lma1986 @missduffsblog @cookiesupplier @thescarlettvvitch @bngurngheart @dream-machine-love @arkiliastuff @vinyardmauro @lacktoesandtoddlerants @princessmarshmallowx

If you wanna be added to the story's taglist or to my taglist in general, leave a comment or message me privately!

The rain was pouring down with no regrets. It had been like this for a few days. And still, the bar business was booming. It was a cold Friday evening in October and Eden was done. She had been on her feet since around six in the morning and she just wanted to cuddle herself into her blanket on her small couch at home.

It wasn’t like she despised her job at the bar, but she just couldn’t feel her feet anymore. She had been pouring beer into glasses for five hours straight and there was seemingly no end. Every time she thought she had a second to herself, the next person ordered something.

On the light side, she also really hadn’t had the time to think about anything outside of work, which was the exact reason why she went for the job. She had been living in Los Angeles for about three months now. Three months of none-stop working. Three months of keeping her mind of reality.

She was doing better than she had originally thought.

As she was giving a woman her change, she noticed how the door opened. She always noticed when the door opened and she surely always noticed him. A young man in his early twenties entered the bar and shook his head for a second to get rid of the excess water in his hair. Eden felt like she could breathe for a second.

When the man lifted his gaze again, he quickly was met with Eden’s exhausted but welcoming smile.

“Eden!” The man beamed. “Thank God, you are here. I thought, you weren’t working today.”

“I’m always working, Nick.” She answered the man, as he approached the bar and set down on one of the chairs. He leaned a bit towards her with a smug smile on his face. “The same as usual.” – “Everything for you, Nick.”

She poured another beer into the glass before turning back to him and setting the drink in front of him. She didn’t even have to tell him what it cost, the money already laying on the counter, “Keep the change.”

Eden smiled to herself. Her day just got better.

“How has your week been?” Nick asked her, before sipping on his beer. Eden sighed.

“Pretty good.” She said, as she always did. “Yours?”

“A lot of stuff with the band.” He answered.

Right, the band. She knew he was the drummer of this metal band. Sometimes she forgot Nick was somewhat popular.

Eden nodded, before being called to the other side of the counter to yet pour another beer. When she went back to Nick afterwards, he was quick to gift her a sweet smile.

“What are you doing tomorrow?" Nick asked her interested.

“The same as always. Cuddling on my couch and watching some movies.” She answered him and he looked shocked. “But it’s your birthday!” – “That is the reason why I’m doing nothing out of the usual.”

Nick shook his head. “It’s also Halloween, Sunshine.” Eden smiled a little at the nickname Nick had given her other the last couple of weeks. She knew it couldn't be further from the truth, but she enjoyed the image Nick seemed to have of her in his head.

“Don’t make it even worse than it already is.” Eden breathed out, not even sure if Nick heard it over the noise that filled the room.

Eden hated her birthday. It was a hard reminder of the time just slipping through her fingers. To her, it was even worse that she was also born on a national holiday. And if that wasn’t enough, she also had her name tied to said holiday. While her name was representing some kind of delight or place of pleasure, her parents had chosen that name for her, because they thought it sounded mysterious and spooky. Fitting for Halloween.

“Oh, come on.” Nick exclaimed, snapping her out of her thoughts. She blinked at him for a second, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “Enjoy yourself for once.”

Eden rolled her eyes. As much as Nick was a delight to her, she also hated his happy spirit in moments like this.

“Okay, hear me out.” Nick said, when he saw her facial expression. “A good friend of mine is celebrating his birthday tomorrow. You should come. This way, nobody will focus on you, you can enjoy my company outside of work for once and you’re out of your little hobbit-house for once.”

Eden tapped her fingers against the counter and started to think. It had been about the fifth time that Nick tried to get her to do something with him. Since now, she had always turned him down. Not, that she didn’t want to see him, she just was scared. She liked being alone. She liked being to herself. She didn’t even speak to anyone outside of work, except her sister and her parents, but even that contact was strongly limited by her. Nick was the only one she would call somewhat a friend.

Eden ran a hand through her hair and then over her face. She was going to regret this. She just knew it.

“Okay… Just once.” She gave in and Nick clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Fucking finally!” He exclaimed. “I was really starting to think, you hated me.”

“I do not, and you know that.” She reassured him before taking another order. When she was ready with the customer, Nick’s beer was empty. She allowed herself to look at the clock that was hanging over the entrance of the bar. Her shift would end in half an hour.

“So, where should I go tomorrow?" She asked Nick, who was still smiling to himself.

“Give me your phone number and I’ll text you the address.” He answered her and reached his hand out, waiting for her phone.

For a second, she simply looked at his hand. He was getting bold.

She sighed in defense and pulled her phone from her pants to hand it to him.

Right when he handed it back, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her boss Michael looked at her. “You can go. Anna will be here in a second.”

Eden nodded, before looking at Nick again, who stood to his feet, also ready to head out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She exclaimed, before Nick nodded at her with a smile and left.

“The guy is cute.” Michael said to her, and she smiled a little. “Yeah, he is also a total pain in the ass.”

Michael only shrug his shoulders, before wishing her a good night and soon Eden was in her car.

It didn’t take her long to reach her apartment. She had been lucky, getting a flat close to her work. When she reached her front door and opened it, she sighed at the familiar sight of her home. Things hadn’t been easy the last couple of months. After moving to the other side of the country, she was just happy to have some peace again. She liked not living in that old house anymore, back at her hometown. Everything reminded her of her pain back there.

Not even twenty minutes later, she fell onto her couch, a bowl of instant noodles in her hand and some sitcom playing in the background, when her phone vibrated. Three messages from an unknown number.

She opened them.

?: Hey, here is Nick.

?: The party starts at 8, you have to come in a custome

?: [adress attached]

That's when it hit her.

She agreed to go to a party with a man, she barely knew, even though he was the closest she had to a friend in LA.

She was definitely going to regret it.

[jojo-schmo]

My old Good Omens art from 2019-2020!! :O (In somewhat chronological order)

In the interest of sharing my art in one place, I thought I'd revisit this era of my art! I made much more traditional art at the time. But I like thinking about the evolution of my skills over the past few years.

Director's commentary below:

I believe the first four images are from 2019, when the first season of GO came out. Boy, did that show come out at a good time for me! I was in a deep art slump that had lasted for a few years at that point. Long story short, because of untreated depression and a chronic illness that brought me physical pain, I didn't get everything I wanted to get out of college classes and I was deeply self-conscious of my skill level. I knew I wanted to tell stories but I was frustrated that I seemingly couldn’t make my ideas come to life at all.

Being alive was very difficult for me at the time and I was fighting my own dark and negative thoughts that I directed towards myself constantly. I didn't see a psychiatrist until the Spring of 2020, and only then did things start getting better. If I had to describe it, it's like a storm in my head finally cleared. The weight on my shoulders lightened up a lot. I had enough mental clarity to gain more self-awareness and really work on myself. And that included my art. And it shows a little in the last few drawings.

(Side note, I am much, much better now. Medication and ongoing therapy has completely changed the quality of my life. I am very happy to be here!)

Anyway, I was making efforts to get better at drawing after college by taking Aaron Blaise's online art classes. (Side note, his class on drawing human anatomy helped me immensely!!) But it was just the beginning of a long art improvement journey!

But I see the stiffness and insecurity that was still present in my art from that time. Whenever I shared it on Twitter (which was my main social media at the time) I'd be lucky to hit ten notes. It didn't bother me all the time, but it did get discouraging as time went on. Until one day I decided to just deal with it. Whatever the reason was that nobody was seeing my art- whether it was due to the Twitter algorithm or if my art was just not appealing enough. I was going to keep drawing. If nobody clicked the like heart on my art, fine! I was going to keep throwing it into the void anyway and see what sticks. If it got ten likes or one I tried not to care as much.

My transition from drawing what I thought other people wanted to see, to drawing what made me happy, made a huge difference. Likes and reblogs do feel really good, but I'm happy to hear even what one person likes about my work. I try to keep that mindset with me as much as I can. And I'm not perfect at it. But it helps me a lot.

Of course that transition in my mindset was gradual. Took place over a few years. But I realized lately that I have a confidence in my art that I've never had before. And I'm really happy about that!!

All this to say, whether you've been drawing/writing for ten years, one year, or a few months, it's always nice to remember where you came from and far you've come.

Looking back, I wish I could tell my past self that her best was yet to come. And I still have a long way to go but I'm excited to see what I can make in the coming years!

If I had one preachy piece of advice to offer as a final note, remember that the ability to draw and write is an awesome skill to have. A skill that not every human being has. But a skill that can be developed and cultivated over time if nurtured. It's a beautiful thing to me, to be able to create something that didn't exist before. Something that only you can bring to life. And while it might not resonate with everyone who sees it, it might resonate with one person. And I love that. So when you can, create things that make you happy, the happiness might just be contagious to its viewers. <3

...I think I should draw some more Good Omens sometime soon. I miss those guys and they are dear to me :)

[dameronology]

would you write Eddie x reader where he's like, dropping everyone off at night and reader is last, when the kids are gone she takes her bra off because it was definitely hurting her aaaaand Eddie notices that she's got pierced nipples? NO NEED to make it smutty if u don't feel like it, just curious about his reaction? lol thanks <3

lmaooo i love this so much - if you did want to request something smutty, i do have my smut blog, @nevarrhoe, where i am happy to take requests😌

warnings: is mentions of nipple piercings even a warning?? this isn't smutty at all but i'm still gonna put it under the cut lol but really there's no adult content in this

there's always a routine on tuesday nights; you, robin & eddie take all the kids (can you even call them that now?? he's dead sure mike can grow a better beard than him) to the theatre and then drop them back after

it allows you to maintain some kind of normalcy in their lives with everything going on

you always drop them off in the same order: el, mike, dustin, lucas, will, and then obviously max bc she's literally on the same trailer park

her one is a little closer to the entrance so she normally hops out when the van pulls in and then eddie drives further down to his place

on this particular night, you were crashing at his. your parents were hosting some kind of work dinner and you did not want to get involved with that

anyways you're half way out the van before eddie has even parked up

wayne is out, so you're throwing your jacket and shoes off onto the couch as soon as you're in, and not long after it, your bra

because wearing those chest cages for hours fucking hurts. sure they're practical sometimes but this particular one had a stupid piece of wire poking out the whole time you were at the movies and it was basically stabbing you

eddie isn't bothered by it. you're best friends and he literally doesn't care lol he's very much mi casa su casa

it's not until he sees the piercings through your black sabbath shirt that his eyebrows shoot up

"are those new?"

you glanced down

"no, i've had those since i hit puberty-"

"- no, you dumbass, the piercings"

"oh, yeah! i got them a few weeks ago"

honestly his initial reaction is that he thinks you're metal as fuck. he's got tattoos but hell he was always too scared for piercings. and to get them on your nipples?? the thought alone made him pale

(side note: i had mine numbed when i got them done and that was painful enough so even thinking about getting them done w.o the numbing makes me feel ill lol)

eddie also thinks it's really cool. because it's the 80s and everyone is hawkins is low-key uptight so when you just say "do you wanna see em?" he's a little aback but also happy you're close enough and don't think it's that deep

that mental image stays in his head for a while

maybe he has a crush on you

[thedeductionpage]

How To Get Accurate But Interesting Deductions

Note: I’m working on…working on a little project on deduction, I think it’ll be pretty interesting, once finished. It’s a pretty laborious one that requires the collection of information and a lot more bullshit, so…you probably won’t be seeing that, anytime soon. 

Okay, so back to the topic: How to get accurate but interesting deductions. This is very broad. Honestly, I chose this title because I knew that the kind of people who’d be attracted to it would probably be the ones who need to hear it. Some phrases these people may use while reasoning: 

“Because they’re an idiot” 

“Because they want to impress potential romantic partners” 

“Because they’re slow” 

“Because they’re shallow” 

“They’re mentally unwell *insert mental illness here*” 

If you find yourself saying these things, then you probably need to read this post. Humanization: it’s important. I’m not here to be the morality police, or whatever— it’s just a fact.

Do you want to stop getting the same, surface level, inaccurate, blanket statement deductions? Then deduce people, not a version of your projections. If you haven’t guessed, I lean more towards the psychological aspect of deduction, and I’ve gathered that humanizing the people you deduce will help you psychologically profile them. 

The thing is, deductionists sometimes underestimate or dehumanize the people they’re deducing. Whether they do it to feel better about themselves, to force a more interesting story onto their person in order to come up with more exciting conclusions, or whatever they’ve got going on, doesn’t matter. The point is, they don’t think other people are allowed to be intelligent, or substantial and interesting. 

As a deductionist, one of the worst things you can do is judge the person you’re deducing. It’s not your job to judge them, you’re supposed to be analyzing them.

Your projections and clumsy methodology will only get in the way of that. When you deduce them, give your person a chance. Give them as much justice as you would want to be done onto you. If you want accurate deductions, then actually treat people like…people. Look for meaning in everything, then just discard the ones that don’t fit into the picture— it’s better than missing a piece. 

For example, a person I was deducing, along with others, had an old blanket with cartoons on it. Here’s how one person went wrong:

Cartoon blanket—> immature, possibly autistic/ADHD, not many friends. 

Can’t they just be young or sentimental? 

Either attached to childhood, looking for comfort, or financially unstable?

No books—> stupid, shallow, immature. 

E-books are a thing. His book could’ve been in his locker, at school, or hell, in his backpack in another room.

Shoes inside the room—> messy, no parents at home, slob. 

Could be, or it could be a matter of convenience. It could be a matter of routine. Or, he could have extracurriculars and has to be somewhere, after. He could have a social thing, which would go against the whole “no friends, loser” thing. 

When you deduce someone, treat it like a courtroom inside your head. There are two attorneys, the defense, and the prosecutor. One person looks for meaning, stretches and bends over backwards to redeem your person, while the other just goes buckwild and absolutely shits all over their little head.  It’s called balance.

People are allowed to be as smart and interesting, maybe even moreso, than you. People are allowed to be complex.

Anyways, I know I neglect this blog a lot. In my defense, you hit a certain plateau, when you’ve been deducing for a while. I don’t know when I’ll upload again, but…ya’ll eatin’ today. Bye. 

[fratresdei]

Nonreligious Thoughts on Hope

Content Warning: mental illness, religious upbringing, hopelessness

When I was in the thick of my religious upbringing, I remember feeling very apathetic about hope. It felt like a "pie in the sky" carrot dangled in front of me; a cheap response to the problem of suffering. I felt like the god of my Evangelical Protestant education was saying, "I know I hold all of the cards, and I could either fix everything now or show you the grand plan that will make all of the universe's hardships make complete sense, but I will do neither of those things. I will, however, give you a brain developed enough that you will want both of those things. But here's...um, hope! Go ahead and hope your little heart out that I've got everything under control. Those systemic forms of oppression that could be fixed by both human action and divine intervention? Sprinkle some hope on it! Confronting the entirely excruciating and life-altering reality of death and grief? Fingers crossed it'll feel better after you're dead! Good luck, love you, mean it girlfriend *kiss kiss*!" As someone who neither had the strength of faith to find comfort in this attitude nor the ability to make peace with the problem of evil (more on this in the 1st link in the comments), I was never particularly moved by hope.

1 Corinthians 13, while an unmitigated banger, did not do much to sway me. In verse 13 it is written, "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." Steeped in Evangelical Protestant doctrine, I understood the importance of faith and love. Faith was the magic word you had to utter in order to gain access to the exclusive heaven club, and love felt like an inherently worthwhile enterprise. Hope though? Hope seemed like a less certain version of faith, but perhaps a more honest one. Faith seemed like the surer face one would wear to address the public. If your factory was on fire, and you said to your employees, "We have faith that this will never happen again," that hits differently than, "We hope this doesn't happen again." Faith felt like a more transcendent, spiritual knowing, and hope felt like a gentle consolation. And in Evangelical Protestant Land, calling your spiritual practice a mere consolation and not Truth™ is an unforgivable sin.

As was true about many aspects of Christianity, I was only able to appreciate the value of hope once I had some distance from Christianity. So, for your enjoyment, I have compiled my nonreligious thoughts on hope. I welcome your disagreement.

What is Hope?

Biological Survival. Hope is the drive that keeps a species alive. It is our sustained push to continue being, despite our undulating moods. Cheetahs have hope that they will catch prey (and the prey has hope that it can escape or hide). Parents have hope that they can successfully have and raise a child. Sunflowers have hope that if they face the sun they will receive nourishment. I have hope that if I eat lunch it will give me energy. When I experience symptoms of mental illness, I have hope that I will eventually feel better. Without the pressure of an overarching ontological narrative, it can be easier to see and receive hope as a morally-neutral tool that serves a function. This understanding of hope is comparable to that of desire found in the book of Genesis and as understood by Jesuit theology (more on this in the 2nd link in the comments).

Sometimes Rooted in Capital "B" Belief, but Not Necessarily. Another freedom of a nonreligious approach to hope is that you get to choose what is helpful and discard what is not. In certain belief systems, wherein believing the correct things is more important than virtuous outcomes, hope is nonnegotiable. Moving into a more religiously-nebulous space, however, allows for the freedom to choose between what I will call Absolute Beliefs and functional beliefs. With an Absolute Belief, whatever interaction you have with that belief must be based in the conviction that it is definitely true, and any thought to the contrary dismantles the whole thing. With functional beliefs, there is more room to look at a belief and openly say to it, "Believing in you is helpful and serves a purpose, and if you end up not being true, the benefits will still be there, and that is enough."

Hope Can Hurt. Hope can fuel our survival, and survival can pave the way for our flourishing. However, when the object of our hope is proven false or futile, it can be disastrous. While hope can serve a function whether or not the specific hope is realized, this is not always the case. This frequently occurs in the form of a faith crisis, broken trust, disillusionment with a government, organization, community, cultural norm, or even yourself. When our hope eggs are placed all in one basket (often through no fault of our own), and these things fail us, the results can be devastating.

An Idea for Functional Hope. So if you take a functional approach to hope, how do you cultivate hope in a way that feels genuine? In the face of the heat death of the universe, what good does hope do? Is hopefulness a neutral trait or a virtue? Does maintaining hope cultivate individual and communal morality, or does it just make coping with oblivion easier? Perhaps the key to finding a sustainable object of hope is to find an amendable object of hope. Finding an amendable object of hope could mean finding an object of hope that you respect enough to let it be what it is without forcing it to become something that it is not. This can be tricky for those of us that are used to Absolute objects of Hope, because if we cannot trust our hope object to remain unchanging, how do we have hope in it? And if all our objects of hope are constructed, does this not quickly plunge us into nihilism? Maybe. But even nihilism makes space for joy and life-affirming, lovingly-created meaning. Even hope. So selecting in what to have hope could be just as--if not more--important as having hope at all. But also maybe not.

When Hope is Not Necessary. If there is value in having a living, breathing hope that is open to change and recalibration, perhaps there is value in having more things in which to have hope besides, well, hope. Humanist author Julian Baggini writes, "...when there’s nothing to hope for, there is often nonetheless something to celebrate. And when there’s little or nothing to celebrate, there is something to respect. Sometimes hope just isn’t the thing we should be looking for, but that does not mean in its place has to come despair."

So I think hope is always available to us. And if not, there's still hope.

Thank you for chewing on this with me. I'd love to hear your thoughts on hope in the comments. If you're interested in exploring these questions in a spiritual direction context, schedule a free session through the link in bio. What's spiritual direction? Find out at the 3rd link in the comments.

[holofoiltowercard]

The Journey of The Tarot Haiku

VII: The Chariot - Embarking on the Journey

Next to the Fool, the Chariot speaks most clearly about the start of a journey, with the added connotation of needing discipline and determination to stay on the path. The road is smooth and the goal is clear, you just need to keep to it is how I see it...

...so when it appeared in my Tarot readings about the book, I listened every single time.

But before that, it might be nice to talk about exactly how I got to actually finish the book, because again, I needed discipline and determination. It wasn't exactly hard, but it took effort. So after those first two poems, with Eight of Swords now fully covered (I am still in awe that it was the Eight of Swords, you don't often see that card as the start of anything good, do you?) and a few more poems coming along, I made that progress page I showed off in a previous post, and I set myself a goal of twenty poems. I'm sure that at one point, I adjusted just so I would have a total of X8 poems, in order for the new batches of twenty poems to seamlessly land me at 188. And from there, the writing process began.

I didn't write every day. I didn't get a burst of divine inspiration each time. But I did, whenever I had the time, take out my cards and a notebook and looked the cards over, to see if any caught my eye and turned the gears - if they did, good, if they didn't, at least I tried. I also remember one time having to travel to another city, finding some time on my hands, and scribbling into a notebook as I waited for others to do business. I didn't have the cards out since we were constantly moving about, but the notebook I could manage. Sometimes I could only do a single poem or a draft of one, and other times I got inspiration for several at once. Sometimes I focused my attention and only studied the Suit of Cups or the Suit of Swords, and other times I was glad to grasp at anything. Those two suits were the first to be finished back in the day - they came much more easily than the other two or the Major Arcana. Indeed, my last card, the last poem I had to write was for the reversed Knight of Wands, which to me speaks of your progress stuttering because your energies are scattered...

And then the readings came. I finished all the poems sometime in early September - I can't even tell you what day because my bullet journaling has been very scanty. But I did thankfully jot down the big reading I did on September 17th, when I started asking the Tarot questions about publishing:

What might I experience if I...

...published under my real name / a pseudonym?

...published in October / November / December?

I found the real name and October the most favorable answers - December also had promise so I gave it a shot, but when I did a reading about it and asked if I should aim for so and so dates, the answers didn't feel encouraging, so I returned to October, which I had been drawn to from the start.

With Tarot having so many ties and attractions to mysticism, I thought of October and saw three possible dates to aim for: the new moon, the full moon, and Halloween. Accordingly, I drew a card for each, and the full moon got the Ten of Cups, which was lovely, but the new moon got The Chariot.

I love the Ten of Cups as much as the next person, but when I saw that Major Arcana, suggesting I could embark on a whole new journey after so much stagnation (the pandemic not only affected me personally as a source of isolation, stress and grief, but also destroyed my previous sources of income), I said to myself, it has to be the new moon. This is it. I deserve to step onto a new, better path and I'm going to do it.

Mind you, I was struggling. Not so much with discipline or determination as with mental illness, so progress was sometimes slow and anxious. But I gently pushed myself along - "do it scared" is a phrase that described me well, because I knew so little about self-publishing, and even when you read up on it, actually doing it is a totally different experience of doing and waiting. And when at last I was there, and had to price the ebook... I input 7 dollars, 7 standing for The Chariot. The paperback was then priced 28 dollars to account for printing costs, 7 being multiplied by four. The hardcover would have also followed this pattern and be 35 dollars, but when I did a reading just to check in, I kept getting reversed cards for 30 dollars, 33 dollars, etc., until 34 dollars landed me an approving Six of Cups. I later realized that 3 + 4 = 7.

Thank you, Chariot. Because of you, the book is now out, and with luck and support, it might just reach those who will appreciate and love it, and give me a new chance at life.

Buy the ebook

Buy the paperback

Buy the hardcover

[my-secret-shame]

hey i'm guessing you probably didn't think of this so no hard feelings but using "obsessive thought" in the like . "thing you're rotating in your brain" way is a little weirdchamp because obsessive thoughts are an ocd thing/sometimes an anxiety thing and not really. fun or fandom-y. just smth it'd probably be good to keep in mind 👍

Hey, thanks for sending this anon. I'll explain myself a little. I have OCD, I have anxiety, and I have severe depression. I am neurodivergent.

I tend to use use 'obsessive thought' to mean 'I thought about this non stop for an hour plus in order to get the thoughts right and did not have a good experience while doing so. Part of my therapy has been to try to label these thought patterns as 'obsessive thoughts' and I often forget in spaces outside of my irl very small social circle (where other are aware of the labelling) that this comes across as intensive to other suffers. This is not my intention, but I know that doesn't really mean anything really in an online space.

'Rotating in my brain' was a reference to the microwaving in your brain meme. (As I'm writing this I just realised that the point of that isn't that the thought explodes and hurts your head.)

I'm so sorry, I'm not 100% sure of what weirdchamp is. I've looked it up and it seems to be showing disbelief on twitch? (Please correct me if I'm wrong) Sorry, I don't really use twitch and am unfamiliar with the term.

I also realise that I often make digs/jokes at my myself in relation to my mental illnesses, (I got a lot of shame connected to them) but that these are hurtful to other sufferers. I'm not trying to punch outward, but only inward - but I end up doing both.

I really do apologise and will strive to do better in the future.

(Sorry just an edit to add the punching outward/inward thing is in reference to 'you should punch upward not down' in comedy)

[emoclownemoji]

tagged by @milfcoded to post 8 shows to get to know me better (sorry it took forever!)

tagging @mistoffeleesisawitch @juanitasupreme @aemond1eye @theaftermandeluxe2013  @alyswesthill

And anyone else who wants to!

in no particular order:

• Pushing Daisies (2007) - Lee Pace baking pies and solving crimes??? The dialogue is my favorite, it’s so punchy and fun and I never get tired of it. The show is perfect and I hate that it got cancelled so soon. The way everything is getting a reboot/sequel show but not this??? It’s homophobia. One of the only shows I can actually rewatch again and again.

• Elementary (2012)- We were ROBBED of Natalie Dormer’s Moriarty. Lucy Liu as Joan Watson is the loml. I have never cared about Sherlock but I had such a fun time watching this show. The writing is top notch and while it is copaganda, it is fun copaganda.

• Crazy Ex-girlfriend (2015) - Rachel Bloom knows me and my trauma and my mental illness so well she wrote several songs about it. But seriously it’s such a good show and it handles mental illness in such a good way. The series finale actually feels satisfying which is rare for me. I sing most of the songs like every day. Several of them are on my mental breakdown playlist. So good, 10/10.

•The Flash (2014) - You know what I don’t get tired of Iris telling Barry to just run faster. Like I’m sorry Iris West is just that girl, and she needs to get more props for kickstarting the trend of robbing redheads of their representation. Candice Patton is the loml. This show is bad and cringe and gone on for too long but sometimes I just need a show where the hero saves the day because he loves his family and friends.

• Succession (2018) - They’re all horrible horrible people....but I could fix Shiv Roy. Listen I’m part of the succession hive since season two and I love it. Sometimes HBO prestige tv is good.

• Real Housewives of Potomac (2016) - They are the best houswives of the moment. After rhony and rhobh started to flop and rhoslc was filled with trump stans we needed a hero, and rhop came through. I root for these ladies, and I cry for these ladies.

• Dickinson (2019) - ....Alena Smith owes me millions in emotional damages. I cannot believe that Hailee Steinfield isn’t a little gay like she’s too good at playing gay. The writing is flawless, every season makes me bawl, emily and sue are just those girls and no one else comes close.

• Interview with the vampire (2022)- I’ve never been an Anne Rice vampire gay but I’m gonna have to be now. The writing is my favorite. The dialogue is legit poetry. They’re so gay and so dramatic. I never liked Lestat until Sam Reid, he just did what tom cruise could not. Also I will miss Bailey Bass so much as Claudia.

[cainware]

jason, bruce, and dick for the character asks?

Jason

• Favorite thing about them: He's cocky because he's good and he knows he's good. Also, he loves so fucking hard that it's stupid, and I love that for him.

• Least favorite thing about them: oh lord okay, my least favorite thing about Jason is that sometimes his temper gets the better of him, and he doesn't think about how much like Bruce he is in those moments.

• Favorite line: "Take it from me. Angry people are always looking for someone to help them direct their rage."

• brOTP: jason/roy and donna/jason. Their friendship means a lot to me.

• nOTP: jaydami (I don't think I really need to explain that), jason/talia (thats his Mother in my mind okay), and jaytemis (I personally hc Artemis as a lesbian, but that's just me, and I don't have anything against it, its just personally not for me)

• random headcanon: Jason learned how to sew as a kid because he grew up poor, and you can't always afford to replace clothes when you can't even afford food. Alfred caught him sewing up a hole in a pair of jeans and had to explain to him that he didn't have to do that anymore. Coming back as Red Hood, that skill came in handy more than it did as a kid, sad as that may be.

• Unpopular opinion: idk if its unpopular, but I think him using the crowbar as a weapon and making jokes about it is hilarious because I cope with my own issues in similar ways (note: I didn't say it was a good thing, don't get it twisted lmao)

• Song I associate with them: Jurassitol - Filter

• Favorite picture of them:

Bruce

• Favorite thing about them: The guy tries so fucking hard to help people no matter what they've done or what they believe (at least in my personal view of him)

• Least favorite thing about them: He tries SO FUCKING HARD TO HELP PEOPLE and yet he still messes up almost constantly because he can't see anything outside of his black and white perspective

• Favorite line: "Maybe that's what Batman is about. Not winning, but failing, and getting back up. Knowing he'll fail, fail a thousand times, but still won't give up."

• brOTP: Bruce/Jim Gordon! ("You are fucking vigilantes! Plus... Gordon. But I'm rockin with Gordon cause Gordon's rockin with us-")

• nOTP: bruce and his kids, bruce/babara, bruce/kate (Kate Kane is a lesbian and I just can't see her being with Bruce even if she wasn't)

• random headcanon: Bruce has a photo album of all his extended friends and family. It's locked up tight and nobody but Alfred knows about it. The first picture is of him and Alfred with his parents, and the cover, soft matte black with golden text, says "for those in need of a home, the night has room for all"

• Unpopular opinion: I really hate how easy it is for people to act like Bruce never really gave a fuck about the people he's fighting? Because that's not true. He cares, sometimes to a fault, and I hate the "all he does is beat up mentally ill people" joke. Like babe, are we reading the same comic?

• Song I associate with them: Cosmic Hero - Car Sear Headrest (lmaooooo yall make jokes about car seat headrest son Tim but Bruce is the car seat headrest father and thats WORSE)

• Favorite picture of them:

Dick

• Favorite thing about them: The DRAMA the ELDEST DAUGHTER SYNDROME the BITCHINESS-

• Least favorite thing about them: How can one man talk so much per second but say so little

• Favorite line: ".While it's great to be a person that others can rely on, a person they need. I've learned that it's okay to need them, too. That's what friends are for, right?"

• brOTP: birdflash!!! Donna/Dick!!!

• nOTP: Gestures towards Mirage and Tarantula with a court order document

• random headcanon: Dick once got himself locked in a suitcase because he was showing off one of his circus skills to Jason and Damian. Damian locked the suitcase, and Jason filmed it as Dick tried to use his weight to move his canvas prison with his body-weight to try and find Alfred for help.

• Unpopular opinion: Dick please stop having these really long, drawn-out monologues in your head every other panel you're worse than Bruce

• Song I associate with them: I'm Still Standing - Elton John

• Favorite picture of them:

[mccn-bcys]

no but holy shit.

so i saw this post and it got me thinking.

what if his mom (that bitch) and his dad (what dick for being an enabler to wendy) starting noticing steven and jake and put him in the mental institute for a few years, maybe even going as far as to blame his DID for causing the Randall thing (even though it happened after bx they probably didn't do their research on the disorder and wendy is looking for any excuse to make marc feel worse, let's be honest).

anyways, he's there until he's like 18 and maybe he maybe he moves back home, hoping that now that times gone on maybe his mother doesn't hate him as much, maybe she's better, maybe dad finally did something about it. at this point he's probably pushed steven (and jake) back so far.

jake hated it. hated being sedated. hated being unable to protect marc and steven. hated hearing the doctors tell marc how his "other identities were just in his head." how he can't just "pretend" to be someone else to avoid dealing with issues. jake hated how they seemed to villainize jake and steven, tell marc that they were the problem. jake hated being confined to the wheelchair, strapped in, not allowed out. he hated being stuck. trapped. he was suffocating. and with marc not even really know jake was there, and with steven pushed so far back and so quiet and unresponsive (almost to the point that jake worried if he'd died somehow), jake was alone. in the dark.

so jake hated wheelchairs. he hated the sarcophagus.

steven wasn't even really aware they were there the entire time. steven would slip through every now and then but as soon as marc could tell steven was fronting, he'd take back control and pushing steven to the back. steven didn't need to experience this. steven was too kind-hearted to endure all of that. so marc kept him back, to keep him safe. steven may have been fronting during the drive but as soon as marc realized where they were, he took over.

anyways so marc moves back home, with no where else to go. and also hoping that maybe his mother doesnt hate him anymore. maybe she got better. maybe his father got her some help. he's still unaware of jake (also maybe forgot a little?) and he's still keeping steven back, unsure of how home life will be, and if his parents start asking questions, steven won't know the answers.

and much to his disappointment, his mom's still a bitch and dad is still enabling. they broke the deal, his dad broke the deal. he told marc that if he'd get help, he'd get wendy help. and he didn't. and that's when he decides.

he doesn't know where he'll go but he can't stay home and continue to put up with it. he decides to join the military bc why the hell not? it'd get him away from wendy. so he registers and gets accepted and packs his bags.

"marc, son. please come inside. she will get help." yea marcs heard that one before, he scoffs and keeps storming away.

"we will fix this." we? this wasn't a 'we' situation. marc tried helping, he tried every damn day to be good, to show how bad he felt about his brother, tried to help his mother feel better.

marc already did his part.

"you're supposed to fix this. I mean...why haven't you??"

you're her husband, she doesn't blame you, he thinks. he thinks about all the times his father promised to get her help, or defended her when she'd yell at him. he's his dad. he's supposed to protect marc, to stand up for him.

"I can't lose another son," if he was trying to comfort him or convince him, he was failing. it's like blaming him all over again. it's like saying "if you leave, ill lose another son because of you, because of a choice you made." and marc can't believe his father said those words to him.

and so marc goes through the marines. unaware of jake but it's the marines and jake has to protect the system and marc is hesitating to follow orders and take out some teenagers who have formed a small militia. sometimes steven manages to force his way to the front, leaving him confused briefly, before marc or jake is taking over.

after the whole khonshu thing, marc realizes he's being a bit unfair to steven, having taken him from away from actually living for those years in the mental institute and then during his army days and esp now. so he has days when he's not working for khonshu where he lets steven front for a little while. until he meets layla.

and god did he want to tell her and apologize. he didn't mean to fall in love with her. looking back, he thinks part of it was that he fell in love with being loved. to have another person not blame him (even if they didn't know the truth). but he couldn't keep lying to her. it wasn't fair. but he couldn't tell her. no that'd hurt her worse. so he starts distancing himself.

and then he starts noticing stevens emotions a little more. like steven is still a little conscious (whether he realizes it or not), and marc is ae to tell. steven misses london. steven really wants to visit the museum there and go check out the egyptology department, esp since stevens picked up this weird fixation on Egyptian mythology and egyptology in general that marc isn't sure where it came from. but stevens lonely, he wants a place to stay, to call home.

and marc has hardly ever been able to deny steven what he wants. so marc moves to london, finds a flat for steven (nothing too big but has room for books), even gets a job for steven at the gift shop, considering marc was shit at the tour guide audition. and he cuts a deal with khonshu. "steven needs to live his life. he won't interfere with our work as long as you leave him out of it," marc tells the moon god.

and this works for marc bc then he can not worry about layla. it makes to easier to just start living down the road, close enough that he can keep an eye on her. he sends the divorce papers. it's easier this way, he tells himself. she won't hurt as much this way.

and so steven finally gets to front for a majority of the time, he's still confused as to why he can't remember half of his life, and he doesn't remember getting a job or a flat but he wasn't complaining either. and he's not sure how the goldfish got into the tank but he loves him. someone to talk to.

and jake. jake is just watching from the sidelines. how come marc never did things like that for him? though he never complained. jake hated being alone. forgotten about. but he could still protect his boys. and that's what he'd do. made a deal with khonshu to not say anything to marc. marc didn't need to worry about another person to take care of or worry about.

and jake hates it. being on the side. not being able to help steven get a date or standup for himself. he can't tell marc to be honest to layla. to just explain to her. she'd probably understand. it reminds jake of that God awful place. kept in the back. trapped.

and when he finally gets his hands on harrow. there's a moment of joy as he just loves the idea of harrow being the one stuck. trapped. in that damn wheelchair.

and when harrows out. it looks too much like marcs all those years ago. jake can't do that again. but if he can give it one good kick. let out an ounce of his pent up aggression, like a way of reminding it that he's in charge, that he's not going to keep staying in the back seat.

[jesushchristmunson]

PLEASE READ ALL IF YOURE GONNA FOLLOW OR REQUEST ANYTHING OR MESSAGE ME!!!

i’m gonna do a little intro thingy to me and my account. the kinds of things allowed on my account. types of things i will and won’t write about. specific things that will receive an instant block. things like that. this post may be long, but it’s to keep me safe on my social media.

thank you for reading if you did read all this you deserve a kiss 😘

Me:

My name(s): i go by Eddie, Lucas, and Finn. i have no preference, i prefer if you mix it up.

Pronouns: they/them he/him it/itself (in order of preference)

Age: 19

Im autistic and an age regressor/cg. i have adhd, anxiety, depression, ptsd, mild ocd, tics, fnd, celiac. if you have any questions about any of those please don’t hesitate to ask me i’m more than happy to answer!

with my age regression i slip to any age between 1-5, sometimes older. it really just depends on the exact trigger, or if there even was one.

when i am cg, i prefer to do it in a platonic sense. so i can cg if we’re just friends.

things i’ll write about:

stranger things only on this blog!

i’ll do head canons and one shots, i also enjoy doing popcorn fics with my friends here! adam hi!!!

so main plot lines i want on this account would be mental health, or even just health related.

so autism

adhd

agere

tics

ptsd

really anything like that,

i have fnd and i really think eddie would have fnd so i might do a few stories/hcs of eddie with fnd.

as for sexualities, i’m giving the characters the sexualities i think fit them. and if it’s canon in the show i will not change that. like robin buckley is a confirmed lesbian. never ever will i write her romantically with a man. never.

im okay to write some characters being trans. mostly eddie and mike though.

see very end for ships i will do. if you request a ship not listed i’ll either change it or make it platonic.

i also have my preferences on who’s little, who’s got each mental health thing, if you request something i’ll try to write it but i may have to change some details just to make it feel better for me.

what i will not do on my account + what will get you an immediate block:

no kink. none. i have an nsfw writing account. if you want kink, go there. warning for you though, i am not gonna write all kink. i will not allow age play onto my accounts, any of them.

https://eddiemunsonmattressstains.tumblr.com/

if you age play and you’re following me, please take this time now to unfollow. thank you.

age play is not tolerated here. this is a safe place for autistic people, and age regressors, it is 100% sfw.

i will not write anything about food. of course they can eat meals or go get a bowl of ice cream, but i’m not gonna write anything ed related, diet related, weight related. nothing that can trigger any bad thoughts about food. as someone in recovery, i want my account to be a place where people don’t have to worry about those kinds of triggers. <3

nothing sexual, there will be kisses, hugs, cuddles. nothing sexual. once again if you want nsfw follow my other account. here is the link again if you missed it

https://eddiemunsonmattressstains.tumblr.com/

i’m not gonna post there as much as i would be posting here. ill probably get a few things out every month.

im not a huge fan of writing about chronic illnesses, as it just reminds me of mine and the fact that im slowly deteriorating. so i really don’t wanna write chronic illnesses unless i write it without a prompt.

if you ask for eddie+chrissy i will be so mad. i don’t care if your au makes them same age HE IS 20 SHE IS 16. i will not ever write it.

ships i will write:

steddie

ronance

byler

lumax

elmax

el+lucas+max

dustin is aroace. i don’t feel comfortable writing him in a relationship. he’s just besties with everyone. i will write him platonically with any other character, he will date no one

jargyle

jopper

i have a very specific fruity four ship. robin, since she’s lesbian, only dates nancy, nancy dates robin and steve, steve dates nancy and eddie, eddie, gay, only dates steve, robin and eddie are BEST friends

i like to imagine there’s a world where bob didn’t 💀 and so i have this idea of joyce being with bob and hopper. idk if i would have them be main characters of a story, but i’m down to write a little sneaky open relationship snippets of them as parents, maybe head canons on how the parents treat each kid and such.

and you can ask for any group of any character platonically pls just make sure in your request you say it’s platonic!

I WILL NOT EVER DO X READER EVER

thank you all for reading, whoever did actually read it😂

<3 Finnie

[backtothestart02]

Between Me and You - 1/1 | Snowshoe fanfiction

A/N: Was inspired by Grant and Chris's short film and decided to write up a little scene that takes place before it. Enjoy.

...

Synopsis: Cal and his mother discuss Kevin prior to the brothers meeting up.

...

“Cal.”

He watched as the light from his mother’s eyes faded slightly before she stepped back to let him into the house. He told himself not to take it too hard. After all, her struggle was his. They both wished he had been someone else in that moment, or that it hadn’t only been him.

“I…wasn’t expecting you today.”

He smiled weakly.

“I thought we could have lunch, spend some time catching up.”

Her smile turned regretful.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much in the fridge for cooking with.”

“If I remember right, you do still have frozen pizzas stocked in the freezer though. In case…”

He stopped, frozen, hoping his mother wouldn’t finish his sentence.

“In case Kevin comes back,” she said softly, almost emotionless. “Have you heard from him?” she asked, hopeful now.

Cal shook his head and slipped out of his shoes and coat before heading down the hall and into the kitchen, his mother trailing behind him.

“Not for months. He won’t return my calls.”

“Mine either,” his mother said, and it just about killed him.

It was bad enough when his own depression escalated to the point he could barely crawl out of bed and get dressed in order to get to work on a good day, but the fact that he knew their mother also shared that struggle, and it had been getting worse since their father passed away two years ago made it all the worse.

He knew Kevin was busy, thriving even, and completely void of any such mental illness, but the least he could do was check on his mother. Cal was getting worried about her, which only amped up his own depression. It’d gotten better recently though. With the meds.

“Maybe he’s met someone,” she said, hopefully. “Last time you talked, you said he told you about a girl, right? Rachel, was it?”

His lips lifted up into another attempted smile.

“That’s right.”

“Maybe things have gotten serious. I could do with some grandchildren now that you two are all grown up.”

And Cal felt a stab of guilt. Not for his brother this time but himself. He hadn’t had time to find a special someone of his own, let alone think of bringing kids into the world to keep his mother occupied for who knows how long, maybe not since he got out of college years ago. His depression had been holding him down, keeping him hostage, keeping him focused on his pain or his mother’s pain at his brother’s distance, his absence, his clear disregard for the people he’d left behind that he supposedly loved.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean…”

She covered her hand over her son’s, and he smiled. For her.

“It’s alright. Maybe you’re right. Maybe things have gotten serious between them.”

She nodded and settled onto a stool while he moved away to find ingredients for lunch. Silence settled between them, giving him time to think, to obsess, to plan.

“Mmm, something smells good,” his mother said sometime later, and he looked down at the dish he’d crafted on the stove.

“Almost done,” he said.

“Smells cheesy,” she declared.

“Mac’n cheese. With veggies.”

“Your favorite!”

When I was a kid, he thought, but he chose not to point that out. A genuine smile had finally reached his mother’s eyes.

“Yep.”

He turned off the heat, brought out two bowls, and dished out some of the pasta into both dishes. Then he fished out two spoons from the silverware drawer and grabbed the salt. Somehow he managed to take all of it to his mother in one trip.

“Blow on it. It’s hot,” he warned.

She blew on it daintily and took a hesitant bite.

“Mmm, tastes good.”

He gently nudged the saltshaker closer to her, and she chuckled. He declared that a victory inwardly.

“You know me too well.”

Of course he did. He’d stuck to her like glue the past few years. He knew she was a glutton for punishment, particularly when it came to her salt intake.

“I thought I saw some milk in the fridge,” he remarked, turning away while she dumped salt onto her noodles.

“Yes, I bought some the other day.”

Without being asked, he fished around in the fridge for the white drink and brought it out, filling two glasses for the both of them.

“Mmm, so good,” she said after taking another bite. This time he knew she meant it and grinned.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Silence settled again as they ate, and Cal let his mind wander back to Kevin and all his missed calls, missed texts, and his poor mother always disappointed when it was him who came to the door instead of his brother.

She didn’t favor Kevin, he knew that. She just didn’t like when her family wasn’t whole, and neither of them had seen Kevin for years, except his one chance encounter with him about six months ago. But that had been short-lived.

“I’m thinking of paying Kevin a visit,” he finally said, and his mother looked up at him, surprised and delighted.

“That sounds nice. Maybe you could convince him to come home? Just for a visit, of course. I don’t expect him to shift his whole life just for me.”

Cal’s heart ached at those words.

“I’ll give it my best shot,” he said, and they returned to their meals.

[hopeatnight]

22 things i have learned in 2022 ♡

When life gets overwhelming, remember that you are not alone and that you`re not in control of it. Allāh is, and He already has a plan for you.

That being in need of help and asking for it is an act of courage.

That I truly don`t know what others are going through and that I would be surprised to find out that I am not alone in most things I experience.

Sometimes the answer is not replying to what someone has said, but rather to listen and show that you care.

I am an introvert, and it is part relaxing, and part tiring.

It will probably take a while before I "find myself", but there`s no immediate rush. Throughout life I will learn and unlearn things.

Academic validation has got me in a chokehold.

I think primary love languages are «words of affirmation» and «quality time». Fun.

It is not impossible to stop thinking negatively about yourself and criticizing yourself.

Taking care of yourself can look different from day to day, and can be practiced in various ways.

I suspect that kdramas, webtoons and other forms of entertainment have distorted my sense of reality and raised my standards so high up that I fear there`s no way going back.

Even in a sea of ​​full of sins that I commit, I notice the blessings of Allāh, and I pray He keeps me grateful.

It's quite possible that I love Tumblr more than Instagram. It feels like a tiny little space which brings calm and peace (this is highly dependent on the people we follow and the algorithms though).

Sometimes I have to put certain things you love on hold because it might be the healthiest choice for me in that exact moment in life. But it doesn't mean that I can`t come back to it when I feel that i`m in a better place mentally.

Mental illness (or symptoms of it) is not visible in everyone. Try to be kind to everyone you meet.

There are many things I can't do and want to get better at, but there are also things I can do. Be grateful and proud of even the smallest things you achieve.

You don`t have to reach perfection in order to truly deserve something you want Allāh to grant upon you. Allāh does not expect perfection from you, it is impossible to achieve. Ask Him for everything your heart desires, and don`t put limits on what He subḥānahu wa taʿālā is Able to do.

To prioritize myself, which includes my physical and mental health. Don`t forget to take care of yourself, the way you show care to the people around you.

There`s beauty everywhere, even in the every day, repetitive moments of life.

My sleep schedule is in need of some adjustments.

Listen to understand, not to respond.

Treading outside my comfort zone is uncomfortable, but it can lead to me learning new things and growing. It’s uncomfortable because I’m not used to it, but with repetition the nervousness might go away completely.

[bittermause]

I never really been a fan of myself growing up. I never really liked who I was, how I looked, how I sounded.  Not only was I prone to constant bullying from childhood all the way to high school, I also had to live with a very reactionary father and an emotionally manipulative mother.

   There had been times where I would be gas-lit by the both of them, for errors I didn't commit. I would be screamed at for a variety of things that ranged from having a hard time understanding math homework, to drinking the last Pepsi, or not putting enough dirty dishes in the dishwashing machine before starting it up.  I would apologize profusely and with sincerity, but all it did was open myself to attack than understanding that I could do better.

   They wanted me to lose weight, made it very clear I was a chubby kid, but anytime I expressed interest in after school sport or activity, they decided it was too dangerous. I lost interest there.

    Growing up in an emotionally tense household left me walking on eggshells, having to ask for every single little thing, even for small things like a snack because god forbid I would get my head bit off.  

 My boundaries were also very limited; waking up to my father trying to tug my legs out of bed when I wanted to sleep in on the weekend, my mother barking orders at me from downstairs, not bothering to say please or thank you whenever I did them, or whenever I said 'no' or 'please stop' whenever I didn't want to be tickled or talk about a sensitive topic, it would be met with an irritated answer or a guilt trip response. The worst was when my mother friended my ex on Facebook for a period of time, even after what I told her what happened in our relationship. She saw no wrong in it, despite my making it clear how emotionally distressful it was for me.  

  All these moments I mentioned, formed the 'mask' I've held up for many years; a fat, ugly, goofy-ass looking face for people to laugh at and walk all over, including for myself. Comedy has always been an important factor of my life, has been my pacifier and a means to help heal others when they needed an uplift. Unfortunately, I used comedy to play into the stereotypical buffoon. When people made fun of me, spoke ill of me, it was my way of saying "You dare to try and take me down? Jokes on you fucker I already did that myself!".  It got to a point where I really believed I was a weird, gross, unlovable person and that I just had to "roll with it".

  The little red notes were actual quotes taken from moments in my life that stuck with me for years. It is a mixture from my father, my mother, and myself.  I'll go through a small few of them;

I was called a dumbass by my mother for failing basic algebra. Never apologized.

When she screamed at me for not filling the dishwasher properly, I stood up for myself by telling her it was an accident, and she had no right to yell at me. The next morning, she greeted me with a hug and whispered "PMSSSSS PMSSSS PMSSSS!" in my ear harshly, but kept this eerie smug grin on her face the entire time.

My father had a tendency to rant about the stupidity of other people's actions and had his fare share of road rage. Sometimes it would get so bad he would talk about how he'd love to just beat these people up and put them in their place. One day, while riding in the car with him, someone cut him off at the turn lane and he bickered out loud. I told him "It's okay, eventually this person will cease to exist one day." and he turns to me asking why I'm so hateful.

The drawing is framed as a vanity/show mirror, as a way to force myself to look underneath the mask I've always worn, and to show the shred of humanity I had left;  the side of me that was tired, scared, wanting to be loved and craving to move forward from the shit past experiences that surrounded me for 35 god awful years.

    I am sharing this now because I know there are people out there that suffered similar, whether it's mental, emotional, and verbal abuse from someone that should've been your loved one, or self-sabotage as a means to shield yourself from others.  Granting myself empathy has been extremely hard, telling myself that I am not a mirror of my parents' shortcomings, and convincing myself that I'm not some randy hobgoblin for other peoples' entertainment, that I'm human.  Not only that, but giving myself the confidence to try new things, to allow myself to make mistakes and learn along the way without fear of being put down has also been an incredibly hard process because of the mental scars.  

  It still hurts, but not as much as when I lived with the trauma, and before I started therapy. There is so much un-doing that I have to work on, and rehabilitate the positive traits I lost from childhood.

One day that mask will fall out of my hands completely, and I can truly say; "shows over, dickheads."