#the shit makes me psychotic as all hell and my meds stop working as well as they should be

[the-silent-hashira]

having PMDD is probably the worst thing i can think of that i have because everything else will be FINE and then i spend a week wondering why reality is so wonky and why i cant sleep and im reminded afab bodies are literally just. fucking SHIT

[demented-tours]

ADHD/Autism/Neuro-spicy/Exec Function Issues/Burnout Life Hack

So listen, as the owner and sometime operator of a brain with medium to hot neurospicy wiring, I occasionally struggle with... well. Everything. But particularly making myself do Small Tasks That Require One More Spoon Than I Ever Have Thanks To Having to Exist in this Dumpster Fire World AND Never Being Taught Anything Useful About Myself Much Less How to ACTUALLY Recharge or Regulate My Nervous System Which Only Has an "Actively Being Mauled By a Bear" Setting. (TM)

It's been a long few decades.

Anyway, as such, I have tried so many little ways to motivate myself, and some of them are decent, but I also have days where just... nothing seems to work.

Except this one thing. Now, it's only working NOW, but it seems to be working semi consistently, so I'm hopeful. Ish. As hopeful as I get anyway.

And it's low cost, requires no bullshit medical professionals or meds and it appeals to my competitive spirit and inner gamer nerd.

I figured I'd share here, though it's likely a terribly unoriginal idea, but hell, sometimes it's just reframing crap that you knew to be true once but forgot about it in the current depression-inspired stew.

We're gonna call this one Warmie Magic.

Step 1: Acquire/make a warmie. Those are the things you heat up and apply to body parts for relaxation/pain relief. They come in all shapes, sizes, stuffed animals forms. Let your sensory needs go wild. I like THIS ONE because it can be used on hot or cold settings and it comes unscented. It's also made for neck/shoulders, which basically always hurt. But they make them cheaper and in whatever shape you like. It just matters that you can heat it up in the microwave.

Step 2: Figure out your temperature setting timing for your warmie. For me, that warmie thing takes 4 minutes in my microwave to acquire that perfect near-scalding-yet-still-soothing temperature. Bonus if it's over 2 minutes of time, but really, whatever works, here.

Step 3: Fixate on some mundane, small task that you Need To Do: dishes. Laundry. List making. Toilet cleaning. Whatever. Put the warmie in the microwave, set the timer... Then get ready... get set... PUSHBUTTONANDGO! Try not to let your lack of body sense knock you into too many objects on your trajectory to the Task at Hand.

Step 4: Do the tasks for the duration of the short timer. You would be AMAZED at what you can do in 4 freakin minutes. Single load of laundry in machine. Or most of one load folded. Or at least a few pans washed. One toilet insides scrubbed. Dishwasher loaded/unloaded. Whatever--do it until the timer goes off.

Step 5: Stop the task, retrieve the warmie, and enjoy the sensory snuggle reward. Fuck about for a while.

Step 6: When the warmie is less warm, get up and repeat the process. OPTIONAL: Set another timer without the warmie and do it again while enjoying the sensory snuggle reward.

What I like about this is that I can trick my brain shit with the, "Well, hell, it's JUST four minutes" line. Or the, "We have to wait for the damn thing to warm up anyway, and it'll take fucking forever if we just stand here." Usually some combo, there, works. And it gives you a positive reinforcement reward that the body feels that isn't food oriented or what have you.

Obviously, your mileage will vary. All neurospicy settings are unique. I'm just going to enjoy this method while it manages to be effective. This is how I've made myself do my stretching routine, laundry, and dishes for the past few weeks, so...

This could also work for all sorts of things in all sorts of applications. I also used to write like this, sometimes. I'd set a timer for 30 minutes and just GO. Whatever happened in 30 minutes was golden. Six words or six thousand.

I've also done something like this with a snack pack of fruit snacks and I get one per tiny item completed because, yeah, my brain sometimes operates with a psychotic toddler's reward system setting. But it got the damn Wal Mart delivery unpacked.

Oh, and one last thing that's helped me... Do your breathing exercises to slow yea olde burnt out nervous system right after you pee. I can do a solid round of box breathing (5 seconds breathe in, 5 seconds hold, 5 seconds out, 5 seconds pause, rinse and repeat) while washing my hands. And sooner or later you have to pee so might as well use that as a functional reminder. Not that I remember to do this more than one time out of seventy, but in THEORY, it'd be great.

And now let's get back to our usual soft-porn-funny-shit-pretty-shinies programming around here.

<3Dee

[kats-journal-diary-diarrhea]

Finally starting this diary diarrhea. This is through mobile so excuse any typos.

These past several months have been absolute fucking hell. Then December, things became fucking worse. My parents got stupid new furniture and it has been FUCKING HELL. It has just been: my parents demanding nonstop work/cleaning nearly every single fucking day. Plus threatening to get rid of the cats after all my fucking hard work over the years of caring for them. I am so messed up from all the fucking abuse where I can’t even sleep anymore because I get scared I am going to abruptly wake up again to my mom throwing heavy objects at my door which fucking gives me a heart attack. Or my dad banging at my door like a brute. His anger voice makes me think of sickeningly burning charcoal in the dark with heavy smells that hurts my stomach.

Recently my mom threw a bucket at my door shrieking her head off which scared the shit out of me starting up my rare fight or flight response. (Rare because usually I just freeze or shut down.) Unfortunately, my response was fight this time so I automatically ran my mouth off shouting she sounds like an old grandma. That caused her to FUCKING EXPLODE VIOLENTLY. She screeched EXTRA LOUD shouting “GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!! GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM! YOU HAVE NOTHING NICE TO SAY THEN FUCK OFF!!!!”

At that point I was so numb I just responded in a calm manner. “No, I’m cleaning the pantry.” Her loud screeching is comparable to a huge pig screeching loudly when its life is in danger. (Not calling her a pig, just comparing the sounds.)

She exploded because Muffin, our elderly blind 16 year old cat pooped in the dining area. She shouted repeatedly“GET RID OF HER!!” My dad decided to toss her out somewhere. Evil. :/ I gave in to getting “rid of her” because they were being so fucking vile and insane,and so I suggested we just euthanize her BUT I want her ashes. My dad shouted “YOU DON’T NEED HER ASHES!!!!” That implied he was going to dump her off somewhere. Yeah, sure. Dump a poor blind cat out somewhere we had for 16 years that just wanted cuddles. Okay.

Anyways, I was defeated BUT not letting them kill her inhumanly. I want it humanely. I told my sis’. she responded she would take her in. I was so fucking relieved and grateful.

I had to use the last of my savings/funds to get supplies for Muffin. I’m entirely broke thanks to my psychotic fucking insane parents. :/ I can’t even get any small fun things to help make existing less miserable for me.

I am fucking depressed having to give up Muffin. We had her since December 2008. My parents care too much over fucking materialistic shit than beloved pets we had fun and adventures with. :/

Well that’s been much of the fucking hell that’s been going on. Jesus fucking Christ. Yesterday, I will make a separate post over. It will be about how we celebrated my mom’s birthday early (since today my sis’ and I along with Muffin leave to San António.)

Today, got yelled at by my dad for letting Muffin run around. He banged at my door. His disgusting snarling voice again, like vile charcoal in the dark, heavy smell hurting my stomach.

Ughhhh, I still have much to do before my sis’ and I take off. I have to bribe my parents to give Tomtom his meds/vitamins. (That’s a whole other fucking shitstorm. My mom was shrieking her head off saying he needs to die because “LOOK AT HIM HE DOESN’T DESERVE TO LIVE!!!!” Jesus fucking Christ, mom. What the fuck is your problem. I thought you loved Tomtom. :/ Thankfully she stopped when my dad told her to stop which was FUCKING RARE but I am still grateful for that confusing moment. :| Thankfully also they see he is improving.)

Okay. Will probably post about yesterday later and the day before yesterday later as well.

[all-things-skam]

Jens’ season | Chapter ten (finale)

Saturday, March 7th

They arrived late in Utrecht. Or, early.

Lucas’ father had refused to make the drive but allowed him to go and take the train if he wanted to. Jens get that they were divorced, but still. She was his ex-wife, the mother of his child. She must still have a place in his heart.

Apparently not.

Lucas had been fidgety and tense during the whole train ride, biting his lip and checking his phone every ten seconds in case there were any updates from his dad - who was in contact with the clinic -, but there weren’t.

Jens felt helpless. He didn’t know what to do or even say, having never been in this situation before. A part of him wanted to comfort Lucas, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but he wasn’t a psychiatrist nor a doctor. He didn’t know shit.

So, he stayed quiet, his head pressed against the cold window of the train, his right hand holding onto Lucas’ tightly.

When they got to the train station, someone was there to pick them up. He had blond hair and a darker beard, and seemed older than them. An old friend, Lucas said. He dropped the two teenagers at the clinic and told Lucas to call him if he needed a ride before driving off.

The door of the clinic was unlocked despite being the middle of the night. They walked in and the lady at the front desk frowned, seeing Jens and Lucas walking into the building. ‘’Hello. How may I help you?’’

‘’My...my mom’s been admitted here a few hours ago,’’ Lucas replied, his voice strained. ‘’I’m here to see her.’’

‘’I’m sorry, visits have ended hours ago. You should come back in the morning-’’

Alas, Lucas wasn’t taking no for answer tonight. He was scared and worried for his mother and wouldn’t calm down until he sees her.

‘’No! I took a train all the way here. I have to see her,’’ he insisted, hoping the woman will make an exception for him. ‘’She needs me, I- Please.’’

Still hesitating, the desk lady glanced at them, noticing the tired look on their faces and the backpack on Lucas’ shoulder and sighed, giving in. ‘’Patient name?’’

‘’Lieke Van Der Heijden.’’

She typed in the name in her computer, giving Lucas an apologetic look when reading his mother’s file. ‘’I can’t let you go in the room past visiting hours. But, I’ll call up the psychiatrist on shift and he’ll be able to give you details about your mother.’’

You could see on Lucas’ face that he wasn’t completely satisfied with the bargain, but it was better than nothing.

Jens smiled at the woman. ‘’Thank you.’’

.

Jens didn’t go in.

He waited on a couch in the waiting area of the clinic while Lucas went to talk with the doctor, not wanting to intrude Mrs. Van Der Heijden’s privacy. While Lucas wanted him by his side at the clinic, it didn’t mean Jens had to be all up in their businesses. And, if Lucas needed him, he’ll come to him.

Having nothing else to do, Jens checked his phone, seeing the group chat blowing up with unread messages and a few personal ones from Robbe, asking what was going on and where the hell he and Lucas went.

Did you guy ditch us to fuck? Moyo had bluntly asked.

In another situation, Jens would’ve rolled his eyes and laughed - maybe he would’ve told him to fuck off -, but not tonight. Instead, he he simply told them that Lucas had a family emergency and had to go home - sparing them the whole details for privacy purpose.

Half an hour later, Lucas returned and filled the empty seat beside Jens. His hair was a mess from touching them so much - a habit he picked up when he was stressed or anxious. Jens slipped his phone back in his pocket, giving his attention to his boyfriend.

''How is she?''

''Sedated,'' Lucas responded, forgetting to laugh at his own bad joke. ''Sorry.''

Jens shook his head. ''It's okay.''

‘’A neighbor called the cops. They said she was acting like a lunatic, throwing out my father's last belongings on her porch since 6am and was planning to redecorate the whole house to 'clean it from his bad energy'. The doctor said it was a psychotic episode. She hasn't been taking her meds for a few weeks.’’

Lucas's parents' divorce was messy and heartbreaking. She truly loved Lucas' father - he was her high school lover -, but the man didn't want anything to do with her after being diagnosed although he had vowed to love her in sickness and health.

‘’I don't understand. She sounded very lucid last week on the phone. I should’ve gone home-’’

Shaking his head, Jens didn’t let him finish. ‘’Don’t do that. Don’t guilt yourself for something you can’t change. You’re here, now. It’s all that matters.’’

‘’If I had been here, I could’ve made sure she was taking her medication. I always do. Sometimes, she forget...and other times, she doesn’t want to take them. When she’s off her medication for too long, things gets bad and she has psychotic episodes. Dad and I tried to have someone from the clinic to come and check up on her, but it’s really expensive and we can’t afford that. That’s what he said. Maybe he doesn't want to pay for her, I don’t know.’’

It was simply an assumption, but Jens hoped it wasn't true. If so, Mr. Van der Heijden was a very shitty person.

Feeling a wave of tiredness hit him, Jens glanced at the clock in the waiting room and then to Lucas who's head was resting on his shoulder, trying to control his anxious riddled brain.

‘’It’s late. Should we head...home? You need sleep.’’

Lucas shook his head stubbornly. ‘’No. I need to stay here. I need to be there when my mom will wake up.’’

''The clinic had made an exception for a short visit and a conversation with the doctor. You'll have to wait till visiting hours to see her. We can't wait seven hours here.''

The night had been long and stressful and Jens couldn't wait to head to bed. He understood Lucas' want to stay at the clinic, but sleeping in those uncomfortable waiting chair would only make him feel sore and shitty in the morning. Lucas needed rest. Good rest.

‘’They gave her medication. She’ll be out for a couple more hours. We’ll come back in the morning.’’

‘’But-’’

‘’We can ask the office lady to call you when your mom is awake. How about that?’’

To Jens' relief, Lucas agreed.

.

It was almost 10am when the doorbell rang, stirring Jens from his deep, dreamless sleep. He groaned, the noise keeping going again and again - unable to ignore it. Who the hell could be at the door so early? He almost yelled at Lotte to go open, but remembered he was in Utrecht, at Lucas' house.

Fighting sleep, Jens opened his eyes - keeping them open was the real challenge here - and saw Lucas still fast asleep beside him. He smiled, soft snores coming from Lucas' slightly parted lips. It took Lucas over an hour to fall asleep this morning, constantly checking his phone every five minutes to see if he had any missed calls from the clinic. Jens had pulled him into his arms and played with his hair, knowing it worked as a kid when his mom would do it.

Now, the doorbell was getting on Jens' nerves and he wanted it to stop.

Carefully removing himself from Lucas' grasp, Jens got up and searched for his pants from yesterday, not about to answer the door in his boxers. He was barely awake enough to function as he walked down the hallway to get to the door, not caring that he was looking like a mess right now. That’s what a middle of the night bus ride and falling asleep at 4am does to you.

Before opening the door, Jens checked through the peephole and saw a short girl with curly hair and a boy with darker skin and messy hair whom he recognized as Isa and Kes.

A frown formed on Isa’s forehead when the door opened, confused why someone else was answering and not her friend. ‘’Who are you? Where’s Luc?’’

‘’Erm, I’m Jens. You’re Isa, right?’’

She nodded slowly, still a bit confused until she realized who Jens was. ‘’Oh my god! You’re Luc’ boyfriend aren't you?’’

Jens nodded, eyes squinting at the brightness outside. ‘’Does Luc knows you were coming? Did he tell you about-’’ He interrupted himself, uncertain if Isa and Kes knew about Mrs. Van der Heijden’s mental illness.

Isa hummed. '‘Yeah. I figured he’d be here in the morning.’’

Jens didn’t have to invite them in, the two walking right in and making themself home in the living room.

‘’Where’s Luc?’’ Kes asked, looking around for his best friend.

‘’He’s sleeping. The night has been long.’’

Kes hummed. ‘’How is he?’’

‘’Not good,’’ Jens honestly responded as he sat down in the armchair.

The trio didn't have time to engage in much of a conversation, footsteps coming from the hallway a few minutes after sitting down. They tried to be quiet to let Lucas sleep some more, but failed. Or, maybe it was the emptiness in the bad that woke him?

‘’What are you guys doing here?��’ Lucas asked, seeing his friends and boyfriend in the living room. He was wearing Jens' hoodie, finding the comfort he lacked of when he woke up to an empty bed.

Isa stood, meeting Lucas halfway and pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back before going to sit with Jens in the armchair, unbothered by his friends' presence.

Kes, on the other hand, wasn't as nice as Isa and looked at Lucas with hard eyes laced with deception. ‘’Why didn’t you tell me about your mom? I had to learn from Isa who heard it from Liv who was talking with Ralf. We’re best friends, Luc.’’

‘’Sorry you weren’t the first thing on my mind when my dad called me to say my mom was in a clinic.''

Kes sighed, changing his tone. ‘’You know I didn’t mean it like that...’’

‘’How is she?’’ Isa asked, switching the conversation.

‘’She’s in a clinic, Isa. How well can she be?’’ Lucas responded, his tone a little too harsh.

Unhappy with the way he spoke to his friend, Jens put han hand on Lucas’ thigh, a silent way to tell him to not get worked up. Even if Isa’s question was stupid to him, it wasn't a reason to talk to his friends like that. They came here because they cared about Lucas and his mom, not to get yelled at.

''Have you seen her?'' Kes asked, blaming Lucas' attitude on stress and morning grumpiness.

''No. Visiting hours were over long ago. I'll be going today.''

''Do you need us to come with?''

Although Kes' offer was nice, Lucas already had an emotional support. ''No. Jens is here.'' He leaned into Jens' chest and Jens kissed Lucas' shoulder over the hoodie, confirming his words.

‘’Tell your mom we say hi, okay?’’ Kes said.

‘’Will do.’’

.

Sunday, March 8th

The past two days had been difficult and emotional for Lucas - and Jens, by bias.

Lucas had spent hours at the clinic at his mom's bedside, just sitting there and watching her sleep most of the time, too high on meds to stay awake. Sometimes, she'd talk to him, but never for long. She was happy that her son was here, but also felt guilty that he had to come home just because she went off her meds again. Lucas denied her wrong assumptions and promised her that he had come here on his free will, that he wanted to be with her, but she still insisted that she was disrupting her son's life and being a burden to him like she was to his father. Lucas knew it was the depression and meds talking, but it still hurt.

When Lucas left his mother's room with tears in his eyes, Jens decided it was enough for the day. Taking care of someone didn't mean allowing them to disturb your own mental health. You need to know when to take some space from them, even if it's just for a few hours.

Back at Lucas', Jens made them dinner while Lucas took a shower. He was a terrible cook so pastas will have to do - not that there was a lot of options to cook with in the pantries and fridge. Ten minutes later, Lucas came out of his shower and Jens brought the bowls of pastas to the living room.

''Talk to me. I need a distraction.''

''Okay...'' Jens racked his brain, trying to think of something to talk about when he remembered that he hadn't told Lucas about the move yet. ''My parents are separating. My mom, sister and I will be moving.''

By the look on his boyfriend's face, Jens realized he should have added more details in the first place. Now, Lucas must be thinking he's moving from Antwerp. He was supposed to distract him, not make him sadder. Well done, Jens...

He shook his head, swallowing his bite of pasta. ''I'm not changing school, don't worry. We are just moving to a new neighborhood where the apartments are cheaper.''

Relief washed over Lucas' face. ''Hopefully closer to mine.'' He smirked and Jens hummed.

They lived relatively close to each other, but they could be closer. Living closer would mean easily meeting up in the middle of the night when one of them couldn't fall asleep instead of texting or take the bus together to school.

''That would be nice, wouldn't it?''

Lucas nodded before snickering. ''As if we don't see each other almost every day already.''

Jens laughed. ''Wanna watch a movie?''

The brunet shrugged. ''If you want.''

''Any preferences?''

''No, you can choose.''

''You trust my movie taste? Be careful what you wish for. We might end up watching the Notebook or some other chick flick shit.''

A small smile curved on Lucas' lips for the first time since Friday and Jens took it as a win.

''I know I must not be fun to be around right now and this probably isn't the weekend you had planned, but I...I’m just not in the mood to do anything. All I can think about it my mom and-’’

Jens shook his head, understanding. ‘’It’s okay. I don’t mind. I like chill nights too. As long as I’m with you.’’

Lucas wrinkled his face in disgust. ‘’Ew. Don’t say that. I’m gonna vomit.’’

‘’You don’t like cheesy?’’

‘’No. Jens?’’ He hummed in response, but didn’t budge. ’’You might think that you aren’t helping, but you are. By making sure I get enough sleep, eat and don’t get stuck in my head too much. You distract me with movies and cuddles - lots of cuddles. All of this helps me a lot, I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.’’

''Look who's the cheesy one, now!''

''Shut up. This was supposed to be cute, but you ruined it...''

.

Monday, March 9th

Goodbyes, even temporary ones, always hurt.

Jens’ arms were around Lucas, holding him tight, dreading the moment they’ll have to part. If it hadn't been for his mother’s request, Jens would’ve stayed longer, but Fenna wasn’t too happy to learn that her son had left the country without any warnings and skipped school. She understood the situation, sending well wishes to Lucas and his mom, but still wanted him to come home.

Lucas sighed, sad blue eyes looking at Jens. ‘’I don’t want you to go.’’

Give it to Jens and Lucas to make their departures dramatic and seem like they were parting for war when it was only a couple days. They had been standing at the train station for half an hour, clinging to each other and being one of those couples.

‘’I don’t want to either, but I can’t disobey my mom. She’s already mad that I left without warning. Lucky for me, she loves you or else I’d be grounded for weeks.’’

Lucas smiled before pushing his face in Jens’ shirt, not caring that he was behaving like a baby at the train station. ‘’I’ll miss you,’’ he said quietly.

‘’That’s why I gave you my hoodie. It’ll feel like I’m with you when you close your eyes,’’ Jens explained. He kissed Lucas’ temple, his face hidden from view.

‘’I still prefer the real thing...’’

‘’Me too,’’ Jens agreed. ‘’But, it’ll have to do for now.’’

A voice echoed through the station, warning travelers of the trains that will be leaving soon and, sadly for them, Jens’ train was in the list. Lucas recognized the number and clutched the back of his boyfriend’s shirt, refusing to let go.

''My train is here,'' Jens announced, trying remove Lucas's grip from him but also not wanting to part either.

.

Tuesday, March 10th

After dinner, Jens sat on the floor, surrounded by the mess of his bedroom. He was folding and packing clothes, getting ready for the move when a text from Lucas came in and distracted him, abandoning the pile of clothes.

Lucas: I don’t know when I’ll come back

Jens: That’s okay. Take your time. Your mom needs you. I’ll be here waiting ❤

Lucky for him, his mom was there to keep her children on track with the packing. They were moving the following Friday and the whole house had to be packed up. It was a small delay, but doable if everyone helped.

''Have you started packing yet?''

''Yes.''

Fenna looked around the room and raised an eyebrow, not seeing much progress since she last came here to check - which was two hours ago. ''Quit talking to Lucas and pack your bedroom, it won't pack itself. Even Lotte has started putting her toys in boxes.''

Jens frowned, raising his eyes from his phone. ''How do you know it's Lucas I'm talking to? Why not Robbe or Moyo?''

''Because you have that smile on your face when you talk to him. Others might not notice it, but I'm your mom. I see these things.''

A light blush coated his cheeks.

Jens: Gotta get back to packing...😞

Lucas: 🥺

Jens: We'll facetime tonight, okay?

Lucas: I'll wait for your call. Love you ❤

.

Friday, March 13th

A mix of laughters and shoutings filled Jens' bedroom as the four boys battled at video games. They were in the middle of a heated competition between Jens and Moyo when the doorbell went off, forcing them to pause the game.

Jens handed the controller to Robbe, being the only trustable person out of them, and went downstairs to answer the door. A confused frown and a wide grin shared space on Jens’ face, surprised to see his boyfriend on the other side.

''What the-''

''Missed me?'' Lucas asked, a small grin on his lips, interrupting Jens.

Jens' grin broadened and he pulled Lucas into a hug after getting him inside, shutting the door behind. Lucas returned the embrace, snaking his arms behind Jens' neck, missing the closeness of his boyfriend.

''What are you doing here? You couldn’t get away from me for long, uh?’’ Jens teased instead of pointing out Lucas’ tired look, the bags under his eyes looking darker than at the train station on Monday.

Lucas rolled his eyes. ‘’Yeah, I missed your pretty face too much.’’ He squished Jens’s cheeks with his hand, making him pull a fishy face, and laughing at how ridiculous he looked.

‘’I knew it, you can’t get enough of me.’’ Smug look on his face, Jens leaned in to kiss Lucas.

Sooner than usual, Jens’ tongue pushed past Lucas’ lips and Lucas slipped his hands under Jens’ shirt, feeling the warm skin under the grey cotton, catching a soft sigh of content from the taller boy.

They hadn’t had a lot of occasions to kiss more than a quick peck since last Friday and it felt good to share a longer kiss. The weekend had been emotionally difficult for Lucas and his head wasn’t in a mood to make out despite having the house to themselves all weekend.

For a moment, the two boys almost forgot that they were standing in Jens’ entry.

Lucas pulled away, but kept his hands on Jens. ‘’I’m only here for the night, I’m going back tomorrow morning. I came to pick up a few things from my dad’s...and see you.’’

Jens hummed and leaned to kiss Lucas again when loud arguing was heard from upstairs, catching Lucas' attention and making him frown.

''You're having people over?’’ he questioned, feeling bad for taking Jens away from his guests. ‘’I can come back later if-''

Jens shrugged. ''It’s just the boys. We were playing video games. Come.’’

Lucas toed off his shoes and let Jens pull him upstairs.

As they got closer to Jens’ bedroom Lucas’ stomach knotted, worried Jens’ friend will ask questions after the way he left last week at the party. He never gave them an explanation and he was hoping Jens hadn’t told them what happened to his mom. He might be okay to share this personal information with Jens and his own close friends like Kes, Isa and Ralph, but he didn’t want everyone to know.

‘’Now we know why he was taking so long to come back,’’ Aaron pointed out when he saw Lucas behind Jens.

Jens flipped him off and went to the empty spot on his bed, pulling Lucas onto his lap, taking advantage of having limited seating space in his cardboard boxes filled bedroom.

Robbe handed Jens back the controller, ready to get back to the game.

''How are you gonna play with Lucas sitting on you like that? You can hardly see,'' Aaron pointed out.

Jens smirked, feeling confident. ''Don't worry, I can still beat your ass.''

[mylifenarratedbydrugs]

The Best Gift I Didn’t Know I Wanted

I recently celebrated a year and a half of sobriety and haven’t had a hospitalization in 13 months (The longest amount of time for both since I was 15.)  If someone would have told me two years ago I would be where I am today; living with my family, planning my daughters birthday, sober, in a new state, with a sober boyfriend who I swear is my soulmate, working a great job, and making amazing new friends, finishing up my bachelors degree in less than a year, and having healthy new hobbies...I would have said yeah whatever, that’s never going to happen for me and I don’t care.... but secretly I wanted to know what I would need to do to make the pain stop, to make the hallucinations and paranoia go away, be able to wake up without crippling anxiety and self-loathing.  I had been trying unsuccessfully for ten years to get sober and It just wasn’t clicking for me.  the longest amount of time I could string together was just about 90 days.  I didn’t think I was going to make it past 35.  I sure as hell didn’t know how I had gotten past 25, 26, 27 and it still appeared that I had my life together... On the outside.

Trigger warning: I’m going to graphically talk about the last months before I went to long term treatment.  I had multiple suicide attempts and wasn’t treating my mental illness (I have schizoaffective bipolar) From Nov 2018-January 2019 I was experiencing mania and psychotic episodes with daily drinking and cocaine use... 

The pills, drugs, alcohol, sex, shopping, lying, the hiding.... everything I used to disconnect was no longer working.  It was fine and manageable for years and then one day it wasn’t and everything fell apart in less than six months.  That was the best gift I ever received.  Losing everything. I was suffering from paranoia and hallucinations regularly, the local EMTs probably knew my home by heart at this point.  The last wellness check they showed up to I was in psychosis and had cut my arms, legs, and face to “get the demons out of me”  My suicide attempts were getting more frequent and I was looking for ways to “accidentally” die on a daily basis.  Walking into traffic intoxicated, drinking and doing as many drugs as possible with the intention of not waking up, passing out drunk in the garage until my cars O2 censor was triggered and shut itself off, I attempted to pull an officers gun out of his holster while yelling, “SHOOT ME” when they showed up to do a wellness check because someone called stating there was a distressed-looking girl on the side of the road in the dead of winter wearing just rain boots and a sweater.  I hadn’t planned that, I had just attempted to hang myself off the side of a steep hill after chugging both the pints of fireball I had left.  The rope slipped, I rolled down about fifty yards of a steep incline where I found the road and was attempting to find my way back so I could do it correctly.  I was hospitalized for my safety.  I was let out the night before Thanksgiving because it was important to me that I made our traditional Thanksgiving dinner for my family (priorities?).... I told the doctors I would take my meds and avoid substances.  I really did mean it when I said it....I was hospitalized again within two weeks.  

Then I lost all of what was left of my sanity.  I lost my job.  I lost my partner who was also my close friend for ten years.  I signed custody of my daughter over to my parents because I couldn’t even pretend things were okay anymore and I sent her to live with them out of state.

I think that’s when it really hit me.  I was going to die alone, unloved, on the street somewhere because I couldn’t stop.  I could no longer be a good mom to the one person who loved me REGARDLESS of all of my flaws.  That really broke me.  Having to admit I couldn’t take care of my precious little girl... I couldn’t even take care of ME.  That broke me.  It hit me a few days after she was gone.  I was alone in the house packing my things, drinking fireball out of a pint and doing coke off the desk near one of the packed boxes in the basement.  I noticed the box was her baby things.  I opened the box and held her little beanie... the ones they give you the day they’re born with the blue and pink stripes.  I remembered how happy I was that day.  I realized I didn’t want to die but I was afraid and I had failed so many times.  I was so afraid to fail again.  I was just gong to end up dead and everyone was gong to be disappointed in how I wasted my life and ruined my daughter’s.  Fortunately for me pain is a GOOD MOTIVATOR and I didn’t have shit to lose.

I had to make a lot of hard decisions and accept things that I had done.  Things I was so ashamed of. Things that I was in complete denial about.  I also had to accept that I have a mental illness and I cannot live a quality life unless I make an effort to actually follow my treatment plan. I had two options... and when I say I really wanted to take option 1, I mean I had my car half packed... Option 1. Run away. somewhere warm.  Pack a tent, some blankets, clothes, and whatever I could pawn into my car.  Drive as far away as I could get and just get fucked up.  Who would care? I had already ruined my life... not much loss there.  I figured if I needed to I could probably do some odd jobs or find a job dancing in another town... LOL i seriously thought that was a viable option... Or Option 2.  (Which I thought was the harder option at the time) I was going to go to long term rehab.  How? I wasn’t too sure, I had no job, no savings, no insurance, no permanent address, all of my family was 800 miles away and I had alienated all of my friends (except for my best girlfriend, and a guy who I met at the first rehab I went to 800 miles away)... I had nothing.  I had the thought... wtf am I going to do after rehab?  I had already been to a very expensive, highly rated, rehab that specialized in dual diagnosis... and when I came home I quit taking my medications and relapsed within three months.  Now I’m gong to go to a state funded rehab on a homelessness grant and have nowhere to go afterwards... And you know what, that’s exactly what I did.

My only hope in sharing some intimate details of this journey is that someone will feel that maybe there is hope, or feel less alone, or maybe get the courage to try just one more time.  

I don’t know why I’m still here.  I’m so glad I am though.  I get to experience love, true love.  When I used to get really drunk I would cry a lot.  Something I used to say was, “I just want to experience the world, I want to feel everything, why cant I feel”  I was convinced I needed to travel the world and do new and exciting things in order to feel happiness.  What I was really longing for was to have genuine feelings, uninterrupted by substances or compulsive behaviors.  Some of the most exciting things in life are as simple as laying on the couch with my daughter listening to her tell me how her day was....I get to be a good mom again.  

[dumbwaves]

words mean more at night

jeremy knox/jean moreau (1.4k)

the english is shit, there are a lot of mental health trigger warnings but it’s my firstborn and i’m proud // read it on ao3

Jean Moreau woke up in a cold sweat. His chest ached as if someone had repeatedly bashed a racquet against his solar plexus. His lungs were burning like hell fire, and he couldn’t for the life of him breathe.

It was so dark. The kind of darkness that made him believe that there never would be light again. At least for him. He gasped, but all it did was make him feel daggers all over his chest. He felt torn open. ‘This is how I die’ he thought desperately ‘this is how it all turns to nothing’. 

And then Jean saw him -- it. Standing at the darkest corner of the room. It was mean-spirited and horrendous looking. It wanted Jean, and it spoke to him in the deepest crests of his mind. And Jean took its words like gospel.

‘Your master will return soon’ the shadow-figure spoke in a cruel, mocking tone ‘He will return and take what is his by right’ its words were prophecy-like.

Dread curled in Jean’s spine. His lungs still gave their last struggle to breathe. It hurt so much. His eyes were hot with tears, his tongue felt made of cotton inside his dry mouth.

“Il est mort” Jean choked out, his skin crawling “He is rotting in hell”.

It laughed darkly, and Jean could feel in the tips of his fingers the impending doom of what was coming for him. And he felt it all: the darkness, the pain, the hopelessness, the sorrow. His chest was going to combust, and he’d die. And Riko would be there, waiting for him in hell with a sadistic smile and the promise of blood on his lips. Jean wailed a desperate, broken sound.

And as if in a holy revelation, there was light. A faint thing, in the corner of his eye. He snapped his head so fast to see what it was that his neck ached. The bedside lamp had been turned on. Its faint yellowed glow illuminating the golden fingers attached to its button. Jean’s tear-blurred eyes watched the fingers move, the hand withdraw, the wrist flex. The long arm curled forward, trying to reach Jean. He looked at the strong shoulder, the freckles in the naked chest. Jeremy’s worried face greeted him like an old friend.

“Baby” Jeremy whispered “Baby, hey.” he tried again, frowning at how Jean’s eyes were unfocused and his breathing erratic.

Jeremy took Jean’s stone cold hand. And his touch was so tender and so warm it made Jean want to cry. Jeremy guided Jean’s fingers to his tanned chest, placing them on top of his heart.

“Lets breathe together, shall we?” Jeremy offered “Feel my heart, feel my lungs”

Jean shut his eyes tight and focused on the steady beat of Jeremy’s heart. It thumped in a bold rhythm. At that moment, Jean could’ve sworn he heard the drumming of that man’s heart inside his own body. He let out a long, painful gust of air. Jean tried to tune the faint whisper of his heart to the steady beat of Jeremy’s.

His other hand was guided to Jeremy’s belly, which fluttered with each slow breath he took. Jean tried to focus on mirroring Jeremy’s breathing while the constant symphony of his heartbeats soothed his thoughts.

Jean didn’t know how long they stayed like that. It could’ve been years, or even centuries. He felt a never-ending sense of belonging.

“You did so great, baby” Jeremy gave him a kind smile, placing his hands on top of Jean’s scarred ones. He displaced them, squeezing them a few times “I love you”.

Those words felt like a punch to his gut. Jean let out a heart-wrenching sound. His throat ached from how much he had already struggled for air, and now Jean’s crying punished it a bit more. He pushed his arms out and embraced Jeremy so close, so tight. Their chest collided with a hollow sound and Jean tucked his nose in Jeremy’s sweet-smelling neck.

“It’s all right” Jeremy’s sweet southern drawl assured him.

Jean felt fingers lightly tracing the bumps of his curled spine, the soft pads brushing against his thorn skin. Jeremy held the back of Jean’s neck with his other hand, playing with the short wisps of Jean’s still growing hair. It was in an awkward length after having to buzz it all off to treat the patches of skin where Riko had ripped his hair out. His hair was now a few inches long, at least long enough to curl wildly around the nape of his neck and stick up from his temples.

“Hey” Jeremy held Jean’s soft, swollen face in his hands.

“Hello” Jean croaked. “I’m sorry for waking you up. Again” guilt soared through Jeans chest like an arrow.

“I know you are” Jeremy said with a sad smile “And I won’t ever get tired of telling you that I don’t mind. I love you” he repeated like a prayer.

“I love you” Jean whispered.

Jean was still scared that he’d been living in delusions, that Jeremy didn’t really love him, that all the love he was being given with such open-hearted devotion was a byproduct of his trauma and his psychotic symptoms. Everytime Jeremy said something like that to him, Jean looked at his lips, to see if they were really moving. To check if it was all real.

Jean layed back down on their small shared bed, feeling the softness of the sheets against his still trembling body. He tugged Jeremy with him, so they were facing each other. Jeremy tangled their ankles together, and pressed a hand to Jean hair, petting it lovingly.

“You have this wild look on your face” he said carefully “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Jean gulped. Jeremy knew about his trauma and some bits of what happened in the nest. He knew about Jean’s diagnosis. The PTSD and the depression with psychotic features. Hell, he was the one who suggested Jean should look into a mental health professional. He knew about the voices, the paranoia and The Shadow. But it still hurt to tell him, because it felt like he was crazy and flawed and hopeless and… Wrong.

“A nightmare I don’t really remember. Panic attack. Then, The Shadow came to have a nice little night-time chat” Jean muttered bitterly. He felt pressure at the back of his head, like he was about to start crying again. This time it was out of embarrassment.

Jeremy hummed, brushing Jean’s hair away from his face.

“At least I know he is dead, you know? It doesn’t get me as paranoid as before.” Jean added.

He had talked about it with his psychiatrist/psychotherapist in their last session. The meds seemed to be working alright to subdue his psychotic symptoms, mostly the delusions and the paranoia. But at night he hallucinated a lot. The meds for his depression were helping as well, making the numbness and anedonia a little less overwhelming.

And the man laying beside him helped too, a lot. Jean had never been loved in his entire life, and experiencing it for the first time was like a never-ending sky-dive which he wasn’t afraid to hit the ground. Jeremy had so much love and kindness in him that it bewildered Jean. At first he thought the man was one more penance he would have to get through in life, with his sunny smiles and jokes. He seemed ignorant to what life was really about.

But he was not. Jeremy despite his young age was wise. He seemed one thousand years old, he felt god-like. He talked with passion, he had a sparkle in his eye and quirk in his mouth. He knew about love and friendship and family. He sang and he laughed and he enjoyed life with a ferocity that was foreign to Jean. He tugged at Jean’s heartstrings like he was poorly tuned chord instrument. ‘Dieu du Soleil’ Jean often thought. He was golden all over, freckled and glowing by the sun’s hand. He carried joy in his words and hope in his hands. He was a divine intervention in Jean’s life.

“I feel like I know you…” Jean confessed faintly “From a lifetime ago”.

“You are a very silly man, Jean Moreau” Jeremy teased, his eyes crinkling with delight. Jeremy loved any kind sweet talk.

“I might as well be, mon coeur” Jean conceded, indulging Jeremy “I might be silly. And psychotic. But I know what I feel. There’s a lifeline between us. You pull on my heart like the moon pulls on the sea”.

Jeremy gave a weak laugh, his cheeks pinking prettily. His hand never stopped petting Jean’s hair.

[theshepherdandthehunter]

A New Seattle Leaf

DRABBLE

A/N: I just wrote this short drabble in like 30 minutes, on my phone, in my notes app, exhausted, and a lil high on anxiety meds (read hella fuzzy in my brain, not actually high, but it kinda feels like I'm drunk??). I did this as a free writing "just write whatever comes into your mind" kinda exercise, to help calm me down (and it worked, so 10/10 recommend doing this). Long story short, however, this could be utter shit, and I might remove it tomorrow morning once I wake up and am able to form coherent thoughts. BUT IT MIGHT ALSO BE GOOD (nurture that self-confidence, you know), or somewhere in between that spectrum? The story itself is set right after Amelia moves to Seattle from LA, and I think this is what would be considered AU. Now, before this note becomes longer than the actual drabble, ENJOY!!

***

"Amelia", his voice cuts through the disarray of the ER, leaving no doubt as to who it was directed at. Inaudible to, or at least unnoticed by, anyone else but her. "Amelia, wait". But she pushed through the cluster of people surrounding her, suffocating her. She needed to get out, get to the front door, get through it, breath. Breath.

Rushing passed the front desk, Amelia made her way through the exit and into the warm summer Seattle night. Stumbling a few more steps, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Was she supposed to breath in through her mouth and out through her nose, or was it the other way around? She didn't remember in her current state. It didn't matter. Fresh air. Time to think. No interference. That was all that mattered.

With her eyes still closed, she stumbled a few more steps forward, knowing the way to her favorite bench in front of the hospital entrance all too well. She could find it with her eyes closed, easily. Taking more deep breaths (she thought it might actually be breath in through your nose because she was getting all kinds of dizzy now) repeatedly until she reached her destination.

The problem was, as soon as she sat down, she realized it would have been an exponentially better idea to open her eyes for at least a second or two to check no one else was occupying her bench. Instead, she found herself colliding with another body just as she lowered herself unceremoniously onto the presumed hard seat.

"Oh my god", she squealed , her eyes flying open, as she flew back upright to a standing position. Turning around, and coming face to face with her unintentional cushion, the terror in the pit of her stomach exploded. Her mouth slightly hanging open, dumbfounded, she stared into the man's eyes for a few seconds before uttering two words that made her want to disappear into thin air: "Chief Hunt".

The tall, ginger doctor sitting on her bench, albeit in a position that betrayed his suppressed urge to jump up as well, now looked up at her with an amused sparkle in his eyes. "Doctor Shepherd", his voice sounded low, almost hoarse. He too must have pulled off a few shifts in a row. "If you were so adamant on sitting in this exact spot, as opposed to the room on either side of me, all you had to do was ask". His face remained stern, but his voice betrayed a tone of amusement. He was enjoying this.

"I am SO sorry," Amelia gasped, her shock slowly fading and turning into utter embarrassment, leaving her with left-over adrenaline raging through her body. "I wasn't paying attention, obviously. I mean, I definitely didn't mean to sit on you ... ON YOUR LAP, I mean ...", oh boy, she was digging a whole deeper than she could ever climb back out of. "I mean, not that I don't want to touch you ... as in, I'm not scared of it, you're not contaminated or anything. I just ...". She shook her head vigorously to stop herself from rambling more, attempting to calm herself down and utter at least one sentence that would make sense.

"I was just ... I had my eyes closed because I was trying to enjoy the night-time, fresh air. You know, calm down a little. So i wasn't paying attention, and I didn't see you sitting here ... I usually sit here", she added as an afterthought.

Doctor Owen Hunt observed her for a few seconds. Here, standing in front of him, was one of his newest attendings (quite possibly his, soon to be, new head of neuro), arrived only a few days ago. And already he found himself drawn to her. This was not a good idea.

"That's okay", he said, gently. "Why did you have your eyes closed anyway?"

Amelia huffed and plopped down onto the bench right next to Owen. "Just to calm down", how many times had she said calm down in this conversation? She couldn't recall. Maybe 90% had been in her head anyway. "Moving is always so much harder than you first expect. I'm just trying to turn a new leaf, you know?

He didn't know. Or at least, he didn't think he knew, or understood. Nonetheless, he opened his mouth and let his words go their own way. "So ... what happened?"

***

She had been finishing up the last rounds of her shift, getting ready to go home (or rather, to her brother's home) and sleep for as long as it took her to recover from her tripple shifts. She'd had delivered her tablet, along with any accompanying paper files and forms, to the department's front desk, and had said her quick see-you-later's to her colleagues.

And that's when it happened. That's when she'd seen his face. Unexpected, and not altogether a pleasant surprise. No, that was putting it mildly. It was the last face she had expected, as well as wanted, to see right then.

It was James.

James. The man she'd thought she'd loved. James. The man she'd said yes to when he'd asked her to marry him. James. The man she'd broken up with over the phone. Over the phone. Who does that? Her James. The James she hadn't spoken to even once, ever since. He'd tried to call. Many times, in fact. But she'd ignored every single attempt. She knew it was unfair, maybe even cruel. But she couldn't face him. Not even through the phone. It was too hard. She was building a new life for herself, had given herself that chance. And he was not a part of that, couldn't be. She had to do this alone. Start all over, a new leaf, a new beginning. Whatever, something like that.

But now here he was. In person. Real life James was here in Seattle. Her LA James was here in Seattle. And it shook her. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was her new leaf. An all new Seattle leaf. There was no room for LA James here.

But he was here, unquestionably, and he'd spotted her. Making eye contact with him, she stood frozen. It was as if time stood still, and no one else in the ER -no, in the entire hospital- existed.

But this wasn't how it was supposed to go, damn it. So, before his presence could taint her new Seattle leaf (irrational she knew. Psychotic really, she knew), she turned around and ran. Rushing to the exit.

And now here she was. Sitting next to her boss. The chief, and a cute one at that, no less. Telling him her (albeit abbreviated) life story as if she'd known the man for years upon years. And she didn't even stop to consider whether he actually had an interest in hearing any of it. Regardless, or maybe because of that, she just kept going.

"So," Owen started carefully. "You broke off your engagement with him over the phone?"

"Yeah," she blushed at the incredulous look he was giving her. "Definitely not one of my proudest moments".

"And now he's here?"

"Now he's here".

"And you don't want to talk to him?"

"And I don't want to talk to him", she sighed. "I know I have to. I owe him that. It's just that," she fidgeted around in her seat. "So much happened, back in LA. So much that I don't want to remember, or at least not think about for while. At least until I'm settled a little more, and am in a state where I can properly cope with it. But he ... he is part of that past. He is a reminder of everything I want to forget, for now. He's inevitably linked, one way or another, to all of it. And him being here makes it so hard to do that, to cope and compartmentalize". A few seconds of silence passed between them as Owen glimpsed the surface of all the pain within her eyes. "AND," she suddenly added, "how the hell am I going to explain all of that to HIM?"

"You just explained it to me", Owen smiled gently. "And you don't even know me that well."

Amelia, as if suddenly realizing who exactly it was that she was talking to, turned her face to meet Owen's gaze. Her eyes remained slightly horrified. "I can't believe I just told you all of that." She smirked apologetically. "I have no filter." She added. "Or so I've been told, at least."

Owen chuckled. He didn't mind this non-filter, rambling continuously, woman he'd just met. "I wouldn't know where they'd get such nonsense".

She laughed. A beautiful, whole-hearted laugh that reflected the adrenaline discharging in her body. And it warmed his heart, made him feel all fuzzy and confused at the same time. What was this crazy lady doing to him? "Listen," he heard himself say, not realizing where he was going with his words before he said them.

"It is none of my business what happened in LA, and I'm certainly not here to judge you or your decisions". He caught her eyes, and smiled. "But I can see that you're clearly ready to get far away from here, and there's a pizza place a few blocks down. So," what in the world was he doing? "If you feel like postponing the conversation that -even though I said it was not my business- you should probably have with him sometime soon, face-to-face ... do you want to go and grab some pizza?"

Amelia looked up at him, surprised.

"You know, just to help you calm down. I can't imagine sitting down on someone unexpectedly, with your eyes closed, could have been helpful in that?" That sounded like a good excuse for why he wanted to spend some time with her right?

The neurosurgeon chuckled. She knew she had to talk to James at some point, explain to him why she left LA, why she left him. She owed him that. But for now, going for pizza with her boss, who had turned out to be a most admiral listener, sounded like the best thing in the world. And if it meant that she could potentially make a new friend (a handsome, open, and kind friend ... and had she mentioned handsome?) in this new Seattle leaf, than James could wait just a little while longer.

***

A/N II: Okay yes, pretty sure this sucks, and/or is OOC, and/or is the worst thing I've ever written. I'm never writing on meds again. BUT, it was very fun to write and that's what matters! This is not proof read, or read through entirely at all really. I'm so ready to fall asleep! My sincerest apologies for any spelling, grammar, or any other mistake I've made! I hope you enjoyed, and as always, let me know what you guys think! Feedback warms my heart, and nurtures my self-confidence (see how I brought that back? Full circle ... OKAY OFF TO BED NOW, it's clearly necessary)

[brainlikepancakebatter]

Hey I might update later or elaborate, but I'm gonna be gone for a while. I dropped out this semester. Or medically withdrew. But I'm going to go to detox. Because I can't get stop drinking on my own, even if I cut back slowly on my own, with my low weight and worth how much I drink now, I can't do it with out being at risk for seizures or you know dying. So... I'm gonna go to detox. And I'm scared as shit. I'm so fucking scared. I've been so drunk every night for over a year, and now I have to be sober for a while, like overly sober, I don't wanna be in a hospital or be doped up on xanax for 2 weeks, but it's better than going through what I have been. Every time I'm not drinking I've been going through withdrawals and have been sweating and hearing things and shaking and dry heaving, so I have to do this. So I have to go away. Detox. Rehab. Then maybe an inpatient hospital or serious outpatient care? Idk for sure yet? But I'm scared as fuck. I've relied on alcohol for so long, and I'm scared for detox and it's going to hurt like hell, and I'm scared to be alone in this. But I have to. Because I hurt all the time. I'm going to do this. I have to. And I'm going to do it and I'm going to figure out shit when I come back. I'll figure out a plan when I come back. School can wait. I'll go to school later. I can get a job whenever. I can do shit whenever. But I can't do anything if I'm puking 24/7. I can't do anything if I'm dying. I have to get healthy. I can't do anything if a poison controls my life. I can't do anything when all I think about is when I can get a drink. I can't do anything when I'm timing my life around drinking. I've taken every anti depressant on the market except maois, every anti anxiety, every anti psychotic, and most mood stabilizer, and my psychiatrist told me that even the treatment options I was looking at (tms, ect, and ketamine injections, but mostly ect) wouldn't even work because I'm drinking 30-40 shots a night and have a deathly thin bmi. He told me he's surprised I'm not dead yet, I told him to be blunt and fuck, dudes 85 and blunt as fuck. I know I'm small and drunk a lot but he told me he's had patients who are anorexic and alcoholics who have died from anorexia or drinking. He said I should be dead. He's surprised I'm not dead. He said it's a miracle I'm not. It freaked me out. I can't keep living off luck. I wake up every day and dry heave and throw up yellow bile. I shake and sweat every night. I take anti seizure meds because of my drinking, I've amped up my drinking because if I stop or cut down that's when the seizures start. I can't spend a night alone because I'm afraid I'll die in my sleep. I'm so scared all the time. I need to go away. I have to go to detox. I'm glad I'm doing this for myself. I don't want to do this. I love drinking, and I know I'm not going to quit for forever. I know my triggers and I know what makes me drink more. This year has been the worst of my life, I know what propelled me to drink. I know what makes me venerable I know what taunts me. I know when I feel weak. I'm not in control right know. I have to get clean. But also IM NOT GOING TO QUIT DRINKING FOREVER and I want people to know that. It's not my intention. I've always been in control. That's why I know I'm not in control right now. I used to be in control. I want to be able to drink and have fun with it again, I had that for like 3 years, and I want it again. I think I can do it again. I just need a break from my social life and my meds and my physical dependence. I can be in control again. I know I can do it. When I come back, I don't want people to be nervous about me drinking. I know they will be. It's habit. But if people know me well enough, they'll be able to see when it gets bad. When it starts. I want to drink on the weekends at parties and get shit faced and have fun and go home and stay sober a few days over the week, like what I did at boulder. Whereas now, and last semester, getting blackout drunk every night and staying up 24 hours a day and going to class and doing it all over again trying to keep the 4.0 gpa. I can't keep getting drunk every night. I can't keep going to school. Not now. I have to get healthy. I finally believe that now that I physically couldn't walk to class because I was dry heaving and couldn't walk to class... and so I made the decision I'm glad I did I think I want to get healthy I don't want to die from this. I don't want to die. I don't want to die from an alcohol od. I don't want to die from liver cancer. I want to drink and I want to party like everyone else, but it's gotten to a point where I drink when I'm alone when I'm sad when I'm bored when I'm not doing anything. When I don't have any alcohol near me, I panic. It's my one and only security blanket. Fucking addiction. I have to get clean. It'll hurt like hell. But I'm glad I'm going to do this. I hope it'll be good. I hope everyone will understand. I hope I'll still have some friends, I know I'll lose some friends. I know. The friends I've told so far have been so supportive and wonderful and I've cried so much because I just want to hug them and tell them how much I love them. Like rachel always gets to me man, dude, u make me cry I love u so so much. And all my friends are so good like Rachel and dan and Thomas and jalen and em and even Caitlin and Devin! And I had to tell maryclare and sarah yesterday because they wanted to plan a movie night where we were gonna watch fight club, and I had to tell them and holy shit?! They were so fucking?! Supportive?! Like I wasn't planning on telling any of them but I told them and they were so cool about it!! Then sarah asked "but, you said you still wanna drink, so, on your 21st, can I still take you to bars because I already have started to make a list..." and it made me so happy they're all so cool about it they understand it kinda And sarah was cool about it and I told her yes, we'll go to bars when I turn 21. I'm not gonna be "sober" I just have to escape this fucking monster of alcoholism.

[what-soul]

I’m having

a something. Psychotic break is too extreme. But an extreme confusion. I’m overwhelmed. I have no idea what’s going on because too much is pressing me for attention

My skin is getting worse, then better, at random. Nothing I do affects it meaningfully, I’ve started resorting to magical thinking out of desperation

I spent money I got for clothing on food. I don’t remember why? Did I realize what it was for? There was a point where I kept back from buying for that reason. Maybe I thought more money coming would replace it. I needed food desperately because I thought my skin was responding to malnutrition

$40+ of debit fraud, I have to cancel fraudulent subscription

SSDI? What happened?

CalFresh

Housing bill, my last? When will I be homeless?

I don’t deserve to eat well but I must

Skin is a cycle, motivation and initiative are sapped. Jobs feel impossible in part because I look like a burn victim and there’s nothing I can do about it. Food industry is out of the question, retail gives them a bad image, moving boxes I look sickly, office work there’s too much competition, psychic work I can’t maintain the energy and drive to sell myself, blog, youtube, IT startup??? no one will hire me no matter what I do

The more pressure I feel the worse it gets, the less I can search for a job because the more I need to escape. I need a job or I’ll starve but that framing alone makes it impossible to search. I have to genuinely want something I need to do but do it only because I want to

What is this mood? This state of consciousness? Is it from missed meds? I missed just a day.

I don’t do anything for myself, for enjoyment. Computer is work, job search is work, therapy is work, it’s all because I need to. nothing is because I want it or purely for its enjoyment, only because I have no choice and in that I can’t do it

That coffee shop mom found probably a good shot? But what CV do I even write my personality isn’t one that’s readily marketable and probably wouldn’t fit well there anyway not to mention it’s food handling

Food food food need protein or my skin starts to rot need food or I become unhinged the noose grows tighter as roommates take away pots and pans

My roommates are assholes, I have no friends, no emotional support, no social motivation. Every day I’m yelled at for having eczema and I feel ashamed that I’ve failed so thoroughly to be a real person

Send Mark and Don the resume, send it to dad, to resume coach, the resume’s to blame there’s something missing

Did I catch up with them? Call Alice, contact Bob, cancel Jerry, revoke Steve, phone calls and application submissions in a number game that doubles as a bureaucratic maze

It swirls. There’s no escape, no solution, I’m left with a vague desire to not exist but that isn’t an option. Instead I stop. Stare blankly at my knee for an hour, talk strangely in circles because it’s all I can do

Am I useless or just incompetent? Irresponsible? Unfit for adulthood? For being human? Am I human? Humans care about eating. I do? But I can’t support it. It works out in the end because of coincidence

I vomited the black blood from the depths of my heart but it’s all coming out with it. I got rid of codependency, shame, pride, anger, developed emotional intelligence that has done nothing now but collapse. What use is it now to know why I freeze when people yell? I dig deeper and deeper and deeper because there’s no treasure on the surface but it seems almost like there’s none below either. I keep finding fools gold that promises to be a part of a larger whole but never leads to the end.

I CAN WORK. I DESERVE THE CAPACITY TO CONVERT EFFORT TO CASH BECAUSE I’M HUMAN YES??? Living isn’t a right. Working isn’t a right. What’s left in the world for the lost souls like me whose fragile minds break at the slightest sense of multitasking in an adult setting?

I don’t know if I can see them at Christmas. I promise them time and time again that I can get better and I have, emotionally, but professionally I’m a wreck. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going or what the fuck is even going on and I just wish it’d stop and I could restart and live a normal life like at Engage. I’d murder a village to have that job back and have some semblance of normalcy and respectability and just worth as a fucking human being. Why can’t I have a normal life?? Why do I have to struggle with this bullshit fog of a shattered psyche that only comes up with more excuses for why I can’t do the most trivial of shit?

I want to go home.. “No one loves me” is untrue but it’s the reaity I facd every day. I’m not unlovable, I’m just unable to find it. Undeserving I guess isince we deserve what we get. I don’t work for it so I don’t get it. I wish I could stop so other people didn’t have to deal with me, the fucking wrecking ball of the family, the fuckup the screw loose crazy brained retarded genius who can come up with a way to save the world but can’t tie his fucking shoelaces. I’m not enough, I can’t be enough, there’s no amount I can be to satisfy it.

Crying doesn’t solve it, fighting doesn’t solve it, hiding doesn’t, searching doesn’t, nothing doesn’t doesn’t doesn’t doesn’t doesn’t doesne’t doesen’t doesn’t doesn’t doesn’t doesn’tl....doesn’t.

I can detach myself from expectation to a point. I can joke about how my plans to redo my birthday are met with debit fraud while singing Hallelujah from Shrek. I can’t face reality because thamisert’s where I’m worthless and powerless over my own personal hell

Can you believe this is better than before?? It’s just now it’s all on the surface, my gusts and organs spilling out because there wasn’t enough flesh around the tumor to hold it in. Rotting empthy ydeath guts piling fileld with disgust and worthless protoplasm, a blob. Smart is my only good quality and its worthless because I can’t use it.

My great uncle was said to be really good at jeopardy due to all his PhDs. So good he did nothing but that in a shack on welfare for the rest of his life. I’m doing worse??????

I feel like that moment after I’ve puked. Disgusted, mouth of bile, but cleaner somehow. Maybe I just need a few more decades of dry heaving

[fuck-customers]

idfc anymore

I was tempted to go anonymous but I am far too tired.

I haven't really made a post yet, I've just been following this blog for quite a while as a release as I'm sure is the same for most. But things have changed and I thought for the better, not so sure now.

this does not include the 2nd job I'd gotten WHILE working this one, which put me at 7 days a week, a little around 60 hours a week, for 9 months. That in itself was hell and requires an entirely different submission.

It'll probably get long so just scroll to the tl;dr at the bottom if you want idc.

When I had just graduated HS, I waited the summer out before applying for a job. I already knew I wasn't going to college - a 2.3GPA isn't going to get you anywhere, especially when you're in the working class just brushing the poverty line. Getting loans is not something I wanted to do either, since everyone I'd ever met, seen, or heard who'd gotten them were miserable fcks.

At the suggestion of a relative I dropped off my resume everywhere it interested me. I got hired. Things looked good. I bonded with one of the coworkers, wasn't so bad. But I was inexperienced. And their idea of 'training' was to send 3 different people from 3 different parts of the business to train me on their own time, separately, and then argue about it because either something was miscommunicated i.e I was taught to do something one way but another person said that was wrong so they'd scold me and then "re-teach" me. This went on for a few weeks.

Okay, cool, fine. Whatever. That's stupid, you do you. Shit kind of improves. But because of this miscommunication, I get a write up for talking to one of the co-workers about something I wasn't supposed to because technically they're NOT a coworker and I don't find out exactly what that means until later (paid under the table) nor was I told I couldn't speak to them about the fact that this random ass volunteer was not only getting in the way of my work, but was being a safety hazard for my clients, despite my many warnings and corrections. Because obviously we are a hive mind and I must know that 1. Do not speak to paid-under-the-table "employees" 2. Do not tell mentally unstable child to not crawl into bin and taunt clients 3. Especially do not ban him when he was spraying the hose nozzle directly at clients.

So I get a "strike". Boss lady holds out her fingers and ticks them off once by one, as If I had made a horrible grievance upon the business. I'd only been working there for a few months, I believe. Still early, still new. Still young, fresh out of HS. 

A little back story cause I really feel this is integral to the story and hopefully for those with the same issues will look at this like "ye same" and those who haven't might be able to understand the following actions on the part of myself and others. Either way, here you go:

I've got diagnosed C-PTSD, Anxiety, Depression Bipolar, and ADHD. It has been heavily suggested I also fall along the Autism spectrum (by various doctors and nurses). I am also a victim of emotional, psychological, mental, and physical abuse (with a little stockholm I recently discovered, it's not something you yourself are generally aware of and now that I am it's ... It's worse than if I didn't know.), and I have been suffering with it for as long as I've been consciously aware to the present day. I don't always like to be so forthright with this kind of knowledge because there are quite a few people that either don't believe me, or then don't think I'm reliable enough to function and/or work. So it's usually best I don't.

And during the entire time of my employment there, I underwent a lot of manipulation and emotional abuse. A lot. By a person who believed they were doing a service for others. 

The months go on. I continue to be mistreated but it doesn't get bad until my family decide they want to adopt from the shelter boss lady also happens to run. I'm at work and I am notified of the cutest little puppy who had just gotten surrendered. I immediately asked my parents if they'd like the foster (we'd been looking for a 'family dog'). Said yes but couldn't get down there. I said that's fine, I'll fill the paperwork out. So I go to the other side and I fill everything out, we're set. We go home later on and she fits in perfectly. We decide then we'll adopt her come morning when the shelter opens up again.

Morning comes, I'm about ready to walk out the door to go to work, but I'm sent a message from one of the coworkers. "Bring the puppy in" was essentially the message being sent. Puppy's mom had originally surrendered puppy because she couldn't find a place to live that would accept dogs. So she surrendered her. But then in the morning she found a place. What a moron. Anyway.

Boss lady accepted her to having her dog back. No communication to me other than "Bring the dog in". Well we were about to adopt. Essentially what this scenario was turning into was: You work for me, therefore I 1. Don't have to explain myself 2. You work for me 3. The dog is my property.

So I'm texting the coworker back and forth like "Uh I need a little more info, also my parents want to talk with the ACO". This takes way too long, I eventually get the number, mom and ACO have a chat. I thought it went well. Apparently it didn't. He was giving her the script, paraphrased and a little blase. Moms pissed, understandably. She blows it out of proportion, note she's a psychotic bitxch and does this often with everything involving life but I can see where she's coming from with this. I'm like alright well I have to go to work, good luck barring the doors from the "Police". We go to work and it's kind of fcked.

We open the doors and everyone goes silent and turns towards us, in the kind of way you know they were just talking about you. Cause we got everyone in one room. The Boss Lady, the girl txting me over the phone, the ACO, some unnamed volunteer[s]. It's fcking uncomfortable and idk whats going on. The coworker I'd been txting was known and a little too happy to gossip, run her mouth, and cause problems. I was not surprised this was what was going on, but it didn't make me any less pissed.

Boss Lady confronts relative who'd dropped me off at work. He barely says a word, just stares at her, while she's maybe a couple inches from him. She says things like "Don't stare at me like that, this is how it works" "They are MY property, and as MY property I CAN call the police and they WILL show up on your front door do you want that?" "Peeriet, go with him to get the dog so I know she's coming back." And other really really volatile bullshit. The fact that she called the puppy her PROPERTY, threatened to call the POLICE, like...I was there during all of these interactions. My texts were neutral and just asking questions, my moms convo with the ACO was really calm and easy, and the relative was doing nothing but standing there and staring as she went off her rocker. So. 

I said no, I have to go to work, I'm not going with him to get the dog but he's going to get her. So he goes, I clock in, I leave.

I go to my job and vent to my coworker about the situation because I was still trying to wrap my head around it, when the ACO shows up wanting to have a private "chat."

The fcking conversation went something like this.

"So uh, you really care about your job, right?"

this fcking asshole was alluding, in so many words, probably to get the point across while also saving his ass so if I had gone to anyone saying he THREATENED MY POSITION OVER MY HEAD TO MAKE ME COOPERATE it may have been a problem. Wonder why.

So I said yeah, it's not even an issue also, they're bringing the dog back, etc. They'd even said because I filled out the application under my name that I was liable for anything to happen if it were to happen and that, because it's under my name, well, shucks, this is all your responsibility at the end of the day, we can wipe our hands clean and call it good.

Even though we were following the 'rules' and never once 1. Yelled 2. Caused a scene 3. Refused 4. Or threatened.

So that's settled. I thought. I go home and moms pissed. Que the next few weeks of absolute stupid shit storm via the internet by way of her leaving a trail of bad reviews. Of course this falls on me.

Everything my mom ever did or said, was my fault, as they "alluded" because we can't tell the truth in this business lest we be taken to court for whatever illegal activity we're probably doing behind closed doors.

So that started a whole new thing. They're hatred becomes amplified. Coworkers I'd bonded or befriended just outright stopped talking to me, barely acknowledging my precense and going to my manager for anything, including relaying messages to me. This did not stop for another 2 years.

So eventually things calm down, as calm as it could get. I continue to get harassed a lot, manipulated. I get injured at work fairly frequently, more than most - injuries that required medical treatment. I lied my first visit because it was after work. I was truthful the other time. I'd already been told by a few coworkers but Boss Lady specifically had a few special conversations with me about not telling any of my family I got injured at work, "Because you know how your mom is". They always spoke too sweetly, too nicely and feeding me excuses to cover up the real reasons. And I'd been so used to abuse my whole life that stockholm was bleeding into my work life and if anyone has ever fcking experienced that, it is fcking hell.

So I didn't tell anyone.

Until I'd gotten injured real bad. A dog had clamped full jaws onto my leg and shook. I had an indent for every tooth, including at least 3 deep punctures. I had it disinfected, shot a water missile into the punctures to make sure debris was out, wrapped, and given meds, orally and topically. I limped when I went home. And at the weekend went bye, I continued to get worse emotionally. I couldn't keep this a secret, I was experiencing actual physical pain because of the situation I'd been put under and I, mentally, could not cope. So I blew up in the kitchen. I had a meltdown, I showed my leg, I explained what happened, I said sorry but that I couldn't hide it anymore. 

The next day or days at work I told boss lady I couldn't hide it. I just couldn't. She backpeddled, explained "Oh no no, you shouldn't feel like you have to hide it, I never said that." This was her keyphrase after being called out for every single threat, warning, and manipulation. "I never said that.". Because it was true. She didn't. She said it in a way that couldn't hold her accountable in any true legal situation.

Months go by. I continue with the abuse not just at home but at work now. Abuse most people wouldn't even consider was abuse, but unfortunately I'd been groomed for this sort of thing my entire life, so when it happened at work? I fit in so naturally I didn't even know it was abuse/wrong until I'd left. 

And the real kicker is that she knew of my mental disorders. Because when stockholm had got me good, and I was especially tired, and I'd suffered some real hard shit at home, I'd break and I'd confess to boss lady in hopes of some kind of understanding: See, this is what I deal with, please don't mistreat me.

I wrote letters. I tried talking to her one on one. I tried working so hard at work to show how good I'd gotten.

Each letter was misunderstood. She'd bring me into her office after our oral talk and tell me that, because of what I'd written, I could be misunderstood, taken 'at my word.' "Well it says here that you don't ... want to work with your clients? Well if this is true then I legally can't have you with them. Because you wrote it. And legally I have to put this in your file." So I had to rewrite it, delete everything incriminating so I was left with my personal feelings.

Talking with her wasn't possible. She used tactics my mother does, so I physically couldn't talk, and I did, it was only "Sorrys" and "Thank yous" and accepting I was wrong and she was right and yes, I understand.

Working hard didn't work. I paid for my training personally and attended a school solely to improve. I kept making mistakes though. I wasn't good enough. I was doing some of the work my manager was with none of the pay, none of the acknowledgment or acceptance. I brought her in money, and clients, and good reviews, for nothing more than what I'd already had. Because she knew I wouldn't fight for it. Because she knew I'd continue giving her money and she didn't have to shell out anything more. And legally she didn't have to, because I had no experience, I was out of HS, and no official schooling.

But she'd always give me 'tidbits' of 'rewards'. The kicker for anyone with stockholm and/or abuse is you can basically continue to abuse them without too much issue if they 'reward' you and make it seem like they're doing you a favour. You know what I mean?

So she'd have occasionally 'positive' conversations, or she'd 'comment' something good about me, but I really loved when she'd give me a .50cent raise about twice in 2 years disguising it under her "charity" when it was probably because it was actually required. Cause in her office I was like "Why do I have a .50cent raise?" "Why are you asking, that's not something you normally ask when getting a raise." "???" "It's cause -....Just be thankful" Yeeee you see that? See that? How she almost said something but didn't? Yeah.

When she hired a new person they actually made about the same as me but more than another coworker, who'd been there longer, and when asked, boss lady said she basically didn't want to pay him if he wasn't sticking around (What kind of bullshit is that). He was. He corrected her, and his pay got fixed.

Again, months passed. Sometimes It'd be so good and I truly loved my job. I formed relationships with the clients to this day I can't think about because I get emotional. And every time she would critique me. Make things harder for us, she'd always be watching us on the cameras, and if she didn't see us, she'd assume we weren't working. She'd even come out of office to walk by just to watch us as she passed. 

2 months ago she made some changes. She'd hired someone that was her irl friend. The entire business save 1 or 2 people, were connected either by blood, marriage, or irl friendship. Which wasn't a good thing.

So she hires this new manager. Does ok for maybe a week or two. But then they started making some changes. She redid how we did our payments and filed clients in a really convoluted way. We went back to the old system in a week.

Then she switched everyones schedules. Really inconveniently and without asking anyone for confirmation like she said. She never even spoke to me like she did the others. 

Then she wanted opening crew to take our lunches back to back. Which made the early morning person take their lunch 6-7 hours after they'd already been clocked on, and me take mine only a couple hours after I'd been clocked on. Well, what about the afternoon crew?

Afternoon crew, as Boss lady told our manager and new morning crew person, didn't have to take a lunch now because of the new schedule. Which put him at over 5/5.5 hours anyway, despite the hour cut.

My hours were being cut. She'd just hired new manager and new morning crew, who'd taken over everything of mine previously. She'd also already fired a few people, and the new minimum wage mandatory increase was right around the corner.

I watched my hours. I waited. Few days pass. The next week comes, everyones on edge, I'm a fireball.

She tells us we're not allowed to keep our "belongings" with the rest of the other clients when we're on lunch. We must remove them into an entire separate room, because they would otherwise make our numbers higher (of total clients allowed in a space per person ratio) and thus become "illegal". We'd been seen by a health inspector twice in a year or so by request of a client who wasn't too keen on our 'policies'. Boss Lady was adamantly covering bases, which meant fcking everyone over.

It was kind of the last straw. I applied elsewhere, got accepted, and left. I spent 2 weeks after my last day literally going through a detox/withdrawal. I became physically ill. I had mental breakdowns about once every couple days. It was hell, it was horrible. I hated every minute of it.

Someone else left. A month later another person left. Several people that'd gotten hired have already been fired. And apparently a business too similar to the glory days of the place I'd left, has moved a couple blocks down the road to a second location. 

I've gotten a new job, but It's only partially an improvement, and I am still affected everyday by the abuse I'd suffered at that place, coupled with everything I already go through at home. And I am tired, and I do this alone, and I've been looking for a place to move into for years but minimum wage isn't a livable wage.

I am tired.

tl;dr how tf do you even summarize that?

[jojuarez26]

When love just isn't enough: Two letters one word

Mature content and strong language Divergent fanfiction: Eric @pathybo @tigpooh67 @ljvosscmt @glamlover87 @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @beautifulramblingbrains @clublulu333 @anditcametopass @anditcametopass @ariwolff14 @frecklefaceb @societalfailure @crystalbaby12 @james-k-delaney @scorpio2009 So I knew I wouldn't be getting Candor for my aptitude test next year. I lied my ass off about a faction history class project that required me to go into the Erudite records section. However I was pretty disappointed when I pulled Eric's records. Seeing as how his father was pretty high up in Erudite for security reasons most of his records required security clearance. However there where a few items that where public record that both impressed and perplexed me. Eric had the second highest I.Q. in Erudite. It was only five points lower than Jeanine's. That explained alot. I would be willing to bet he was also a sociopath. What perplexed me was that from the age of three to fourteen he had been seen in Erudite Emergency Services more than probably anyone in the faction history. Everything from broken bones, stitches, concussions and everything in between. However when he turned fourteen his last injury was a broken hand that required surgery to put a pin in one of his fingers. Then, nothing. Just routine physicals and labs. It did seem he had excessive amounts of labs done, even for an Erudite. Also he was listed as a non-depandant, non-member. How the hell does that work? I would have to look into that. I had just replaced his file and preparing to leave when I heard the door open and two distinct sounds of heels clicking across the floor in my direction. I ran to the end of the room and hid behind a records rack. I was surprised when the two women, who's legs where all I could see, stopped where I had just been standing. "So do you think our boy can really carry out his mission? " one of the women asked. "Oh I know he can if he stays focused and on task. He's also officially a man now you do realize, " the second voice that seemed to sweetly fake. "I know that Jeanie. However I am worried he had become awfully preoccupied with a Dauntless girl. He is going there. Should we be worried? " the woman sounded slightly irritated. "Oh I would not worry too much. This one only intrigues him for one reason. Two letters one word. No. She is not interested and tells him no. Nobody tells him no but me. When she eventually gives in, and she will, they all do. He won't be interested anymore. Besides, I suppose he is a man and men have needs." "As long as she doesn't interfere with his mission I quite frankly don't care. If she becomes a problem, well we will do what we do with all problems. Eliminate her." The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had a sinking feeling these women where talking about Eric and I. This was not setting well with me at all. "Come Elaine. We have much to do before the choosing ceremony." The women left and I sat shaking trying to steady my breath. What in the fuck was I potentially getting tangled in, I didn't even like the arrogant prick, let alone need to be considered a threat to some damn secret mission. I needed to get out of here and get back home to Dauntless. I had a feelingly I might just be a little under the weather tomorrow. I stood waiting for the train to go home. I had missed the early train while I was stuck in the records room. Now I stood waiting for the train alone. Suddenly I felt a chill go down my spine. It felt like someone was watching me. I went to turn around, but two strong blue clad arms suddenly snaked around my waist. I was going to scream until I recognized the voice assuring me I was fine. I probably still should have screamed, However I didn't. "You where not in your last class today. Where were you Y/N?" What!! How did he know that? "How would you know? Are you stalking me Eric? Further more, it's none of your damn business!!" This was getting old and I was getting pissed. Who does he think he is? Oh that's right he thinks he's a fucking king. "Y/N haven't I already told you before, a king always knows what is going on in his kingdom." Of course. Arrogant cocky bastard "Also I have the right to know where you are at, because you are mine," he whispered in my ear and kissing my neck. This psychotic asshole must have skipped his meds and lost his fucking mind today. I kicked my leg back connecting with his shin then stomped on his foot. Being caught off guard he loosened his grip enough for me to break free of his grasp. I took off running as fast as my legs would take me down the train tracks. He was furious. "You little bitch. Not so fast," he growled reaching out and yanking me back by my hair so hard my head jerked back violently. He proceeded to wrap my hair tightly in his fist while his other hand gripped my bicep so hard I knew it would leave a nasty bruise. "Where the fuck did you think you were running too? Have you forgotten who you are with?" he snarled in my ear tipping my head back forcing me to look at him. "Fuck you Eric. I am not yours. Hell I can not stand your pathetic ass," I knew I was going to pay for that. Oh well, what did I have to loose at this point "You are mine, whether you like it or not. You may as well get use to it." he had an evil smirk on his face while he spoke. He started to kiss on my neck and without thinking I blurted out the phrase I heard the woman in the records room use earlier "Two letters one word Eric. NO!!" I hissed at him. He suddenly turned me around and harshly pulled me to his chest and put his face only centimeters from mine "What did you just say," he asked in an eerie calm tone. "I said t-" "Oh I know what the fuck you just said. I guess the real question is who have you been talking to?" he's pupils where dilated and fury raged in his eyes. I kept my mouth shut and just glared back at him. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was sure he was going to kill me. However I still refused to cower down or show fear. I heard the train whistle in the distance and started to panic. I couldn't miss this train. It was the last one for the next three hours and I had to get the hell away from Eric. "Watch yourself Y/N. You are extremely lucky that I desire you by my side. I have put people in the hospital for much less." he angrily whispered in my ear. "You best be in the library tomorrow. Do not make me come find you. It wilk not be pleasant." With that he placed a harsh kiss on my lips and let me go. Then he just turned and walked away. I quickly scrambled to get on the train. I sat in the corner pulling my knees to my chest fighting back a panic attack. How the fuck was I going to get away from this bat shit crazy psychopath???

[batfam-imagines]

Stray -  Part 4

FINALLY!!

Previous: Part 3

———————————————————————————–

Having Jason back is one of the best feelings in the world. Helping him completely terrorize the rest of the Batfamily is even better. However, when he seriously injures Tim, the newest Robin, you scream at him until he agrees to no longer hurt his brothers.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to really hurt him! I was just so mad!”

“I know, Jay! I know you’re angry at everyone right now, but he’s just a kid! You’ll be just as bad as the Joker if you kill him!”

Jason growls, raking his fingers though his hair, “I’m sorry! I-I think I need to apologize; I think … I think I should head to the cave and apologize to the kid”

“You do that, and while you’re at it I want you to talk to Bruce. You two have a lot of shit to work out. It’s been fun annoying them and taking over the city with you, but this family feud needs to stop”

Jason flopped onto your couch, “Tomorrow”

“Fine, tomorrow, but you are going to do it. No excuses”

“if I’m going to talk to Bruce, than you have to talk to Dick. You haven’t talked to him in almost 3 months, ever since you got out of the hospital”

“Dick made it clear where he stood, I don’t see a reason for us to talk”

Jason rolls over, peaking at you from under his arm, “You know that’s not true. He’s tried to talk ot you almost every night, but you actively avoid him. So tomorrow when I go to the Manor, you are gonna come with me”

“What?! No!”

Jason just shrugged, flopping back fully on the couch, “Fine. If you don’t go than neither will I”

You growl, shoving Jason off the couch and taking his place, “Fine, I’ll go with you, but if Dick isn’t there then that’s it”

Jason nodded, “I can live with that”

He gets up and heads to his room, “Don’t forget to take your meds!” you shout

“I know!”

Jason had been seeing the psychiatrist. They had put him on low dose anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and had been teaching him techniques to manage him anger. So far everything was working.

--

Standing in front of the Manor is a lot more intimidating than you expected it to be. Of course you had been to the Manor, you had helped train Tim, had been Jason’s sister, and Dick’s friend. But for some reason, right now, it was a hell of a lot more menacing than all of those other times.

“Welcome, Master Jason. Welcome Miss Y/N. This is a pleasant surprise, Master Bruce is upstairs with Master Tim and Master Dick.”

Jason glances at you with a smirk, “Dick’s here, Y/N. It looks like you’ll have to talk to him”

“And Bruce is here, Jason, so you’ll actually have a conversation with him. You took your meds this morning right?”

“Yes, and I brought some extras, just in case I freak out”

You nod, relieved that Jason had remembered the extras, “Good. Let’s head upstairs, might as well get these conversations over with. And remember to apologize to Tim”

--

You can see Tim flinch as soon as he sees Jason, and you know that Jason see’s it too. You can see the hurt in his grey eyes, “Tim, listen, I’m really sorry for shooting you” Jason sighed, “I hadn’t taken my meds that day, and I just got so angry when I saw you out there. I’m sorry that I almost killed you, I would … I would like to get to know you when you get better”

Tim still looks wary for Jason, but he nods at Jason’s offer, “As long as you promise not to hurt me anymore, I-I would enjoy hanging out with you”

Jason nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, then he turns to Bruce, “I need to talk to you, B. Just the two of us, I-I think there are a few things that we need to talk about”

Bruce stands up and gestures for Jason o follow him. You really hope that they can work out some of their issues, not you just had to complete your task.

“Dick …?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s nice to see you. I’ve been trying to talk to you since the hospital, but …”

“Yeah, can we take this to another room?”

Dick nods, and quickly makes his way into an adjoining room, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you, I was just so angry after the hospital conversation that I just couldn’t stand to talk to you”

“I broke up with Babs, almost 2 and a half months ago. I just couldn’t stay with her when I realized that I wanted someone else.”

“You’re dating someone new?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t had the chance to talk to her” Dick glances down, his foot scuffing the carpet.

You force a smile on your face, “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Well it really depends …”

“On what, Dick? Why are you acting so strange? Are you alright?”

“Oh, I fine! I just really missed talking to you, and …” Dick swallows, loudly, shifting from foot to foot, “I need to tell you something, and I need you to not interrupt until I’m completely done”

“You have my word. I won’t say anything until you are completely done talking”

Dick nodded and took a deep breath, “So here goes nothing” He cleared his throat, “I broke up with Barbra about a week after our talk in the hospital. I couldn’t get the words from your letter out of my head, I couldn’t get you out of my head. The fact that you said you’ve loved me, that you have since we were kids, made me reevaluate everything about us.” Dick took a deep breath, “I realized that I love you too. That I’ve loved you for years, but that I refused to admit it to myself. I-I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so I thought that, by dating Kori and Babs, I would just get over you.” Dick finally looks up at you, his eyes glossy with tears, “But when you called me that night, when I thought I would be too late, I realized that it didn’t matter how I felt in the past, I love you, and the thought of living in a world without you is terrifying”

There were a few moments of tense silence before you finally spoke up, “Then why did you leave me in the hospital like that?”

“I was angry at you for taking all of those pills. When we found out that it was Ivy who did is to you, it reminded me how painfully mortal we all are, I couldn’t-couldn’t handle the thought of you dying, so I tried to push you away. I thought that I would be okay with Babs, that I would get over loiing you, but I didn’t, I couldn’t. Every time I saw you my heart fluttered, and I knew that I couldn’t lead Babs on like that, so I ended it. I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance, a chance to make up for everything I’ve done wrong”

“I want to, Dick, I really do, but you hurt me. You abandoned me for a long time, and I don’t know if an apology is going to be enough”

Dick drops down, crouching between your knees and taking your hands in his. “I know it won’t be enough. I know that, but-but I still want to try. I want to prove to you that I’ve learned from my mistakes, I want to prove that I love you the same way you love me. Will you give me that chance?”

You sniffle, “Yes, Dick, I want you to try. I’m so sorry that I was avoiding you, I’m sorry that I hurt you. I want to try with you. I never thought you would return my feelings, but now that you do, I’m so scared. I’m so scared that I won’t be enough, that you’ll be disappointed when you really get to know me”

Raising your hand to him lips, Dick gently kissed your knuckles, “You could never disappoint me, ever”

“I’ll try not do. I’ll try”

———————————————————————————–

Let me know what you think! Send any ideas or requests you have to my Ask Box!

[latefrequencies]

and I fully do believe enablers exist and I do believe that enabling comes in lots of different forms and it can be so subtle that only people who understand addiction extremely well can point it out, but 

literally, no one is enabling me in specific? unless I am so messed up that there is a situation where someone is in fact enabling me and doesn’t do anything about it, and I know I am making this about me but this situation could easily happen to anybody else, where they get the drugs relatively secretively with no interactions from anybody else who would be in any kind of position to do anything one way or the other?

there are, like, only three things I’ve ever experienced that I think come even the tiniest bit close to enabling, and those were

a classmate I briefly knew who took recreational benzodiazepines (which I did at the time) and to whom I actually sold benzos (I was like “hey you can have ‘em for free” but she was like “no I feel guilty” and that’s how I gave away 4 mg of klonopin and got $20 for it which was like well over the cost of the whole bottle at the time that’s still a college story I’m proud of) and a few times, we were both simultaneously high and didn’t have anyplace we needed to go to for a while so we sat on campus chilling and talking about art, trauma, bipolar disorder, movies, writing, some other shit, we did talk about drugs which you could argue was her enabling me in the form of her validating my addiction and talking about drugs in a non-negative context but arguably I was enabling her because of the times I gave her drugs (which I seriously thought about before doing it and I only did it because I knew her mental health status and I was like “shit she is legit out of seroquel well I see why she would use these as a short-term substitute for when the medical system is being fucked up and she can’t get her meds, I mean I did the same thing”. in hindsight maybe she could have been lying about being out of seroquel. I kind of don’t care bc I still understand how someone who is traumatized, bipolar, and possibly has other disorders could need benzodiazepines that aren’t theirs.)

the time I was able to get my doctor to up my dose of klonopin by saying “hey doc I think I’m getting a little bit of a tolerance to this drug [which was true] but like I still need it for my PTSD and shit [also true]” (sidenote: anytime I say I use benzos recreationally, I do use them for medical purposes too, but what I do is I hide the pills from myself and get by on solely OTCs so I miss a few days’ dosages but have enough for later when I may have to Overdo It. My relationship to klonopin is complex. It warrants its own post.) Anyway though I got her to give me 1mg pills instead of .5mgs but the new instruction was to take up to 2 1mgs a day as opposed to 3 .5mgs, so really I just got her to give me an extra half-miligram of klonopin per day and like. Yes that is a legit addictive behavior and she did allow it to happen but this was like. the only case of any of that.

I have friends, mostly online friends (which I mention solely because it must be understood that unlike some cases of addiction and enabling, nothing that could be done irl to enable someone is something my friends can do). anyway I have friends who, in many cases, are also addicts or have addictive tendencies and have similar mental health situations as mine and understand why i’m an addict and while they definitely advise harm reduction (as I do too for anyone else I know) and they recognize it’s not a GOOD thing, they’ve not ever told me You Need To Stop so if you wanna see that as enabling. idk and idc. 

but like. most enabler behaviors are just not things that anyone does for me? like I literally looked up “enabler examples” to see if any of it applied to me and none of it did. since I don’t face legal repercussions for my drug use, there’s no one who repeatedly bails me out of jail or whatever. I don’t engage in abusive behaviors that make people too scared to not provide me with drugs (I have sometimes expressed concerns that I’m abusive but that’s 1. its own subject and 2. not manifesting itself in a form that would play into addiction). no one is giving me drugs whatsoever except for my psychiatrist, and she also gives me the anti-psychotics and anti-emetics I need, so no offence but its kind of her job to give me anti-anxiety meds that I use in excess in ways that I deliberately don’t tell her the full truth about? (I recognize that that is my bad, not hers.) yeah my aunt gives me money I use to buy drugs, but I earn that money for doing jobs at her school and stuff, and I’m just as likely to spend it on notebooks or gemstones or sweaters or MLP toys* as I am Benadryl (that��s the one I actually pay for, I assert that I am addicted to it because I Cannot Function w/o it and the way I take it looks like how an addict takes something. Anyway the point is that’s what I use the money for when I’m buying drugs.) there’s nothing my friends can do because like I said they live on like the other side of the frickin country or hell even in another country entirely, and I cannot recall a SINGLE time they have advised me to take drugs (sometimes they agreed that it was a good idea if I noticed a “hey I took some Benadryl an hour ago and now I don’t care about my trauma anymore” effect but they never advised me to do it, ever). when random people walk by me at school and see me taking pills, what’s to make them think it’s not medication being taken properly or hell just OTC painkillers (as it actually very often is Because Arthritis), and even if they know it’s like Excess Drugs, literally no one I know in-person who isn’t a family member or Jared has any kind of relationship to me where it’d be Their Business to do anything about it. 

I don’t. have friends who I do drugs with because see above, no in-person friends. Except Jared. And while I am generally high while around him and I think like once I said “you can have some if you want some” kind of as a joke that he would have fully understood, we don’t Do Drugs together. That’s not why we go out into secluded wooded areas together. (we go there to look for and then joke about snails. this is a thing that happens. Jared I recognize you’re probably reading this. if so please tell me if I shouldn’t have said the thing about the snails. but I’m pretty sure you’d be cool with me publicly talking about the snails.) 

anyway point is that no one does anything for my addiction other than me, I am legit the only one doing anything that enables me, I guess you could argue that I’m my own enabler then but that’s just kinda redundant and also a bit nonsensical as a concept. literally. nobody I know does anything. that could be considered enabling my drug usage unless not immediately dragging me to rehab or w/e is considered “enabling” (and again since my drug use is relatively private irl - not online but irl - no one who is in any position to drag me to rehab is likely to drag me to rehab.) anyway that’s not how shit works and anyway not all addicts have enablers and addiction is not always a social or symbiotic experience, idk why I went on about that so much today is just Addict Rant day 

also I don’t actually expect Jared to drag me to rehab but I said that because he’s my Token Local Friend and I believe - and I am reasonably sure he believes to - that friends have certain responsibilities to each other that they wouldn’t have to strangers. but I don’t think he’s responsible for my addiction or mental health. because no this is my issue. I have utterly no expectation that anyone I know try to solve it.

.

* Yes, I buy My Little Pony toys rather frequently. I just like having them around. They’re nice.

[mickeys-coming-back-bitches]

You have stated several times that Ian isn't stable/doesn't have good mental health even after staring his medication. I have been thinking about it a lot, and I would like to hear your reasons for your opinion. I don't mind if your answer is long or you need time to think about it. (Part 1)

Part 2. I agree with you on the fact that the absence of manic/depressive symptoms doesn't mean that he has good mental health. But I think that there are signs which point towards the fact that he is ok. he was able to study to be an EMT and he can work as an EMT which could be quite a challenge. He is also capable of forming new relationships, feel empathy and interact with people. He can take care of himself and he can differ between reality and imagination/dreams.Part 3. On the other hand, Ian isn't very good at expressing his feelings and he is afraid to love and be loved. He isn't very independent or able to stand his ground in most situations. But these can be character traits and don't necessarily mean that he isn't in good mental health. So what are your thoughts? Sorry about the rant, but the topic interests me.

Aah, so you see, if you want, one day I’ll talk very extensively about the kind of therapy I’m doing - the branch, that is to say, because although most psychotherapists around are either Freudians or Jung(h)ians, my doctor is neither. My therapy is built upon the scientific discoveries of Massimo Fagioli, an italian doctor, psychiatrist and psychotherapist who started working on curing various mental illnesses during the ‘60s, and is still working now, even though he is 86 years old. The way Massimo Fagioli approaches mental illness is new and revolutionary - I have no idea if there are any american psychiatrists who keep up-to date with foreign discoveries, but I’ll only say that his (and therefore my) way to see mental illness is very different from how western society sees it. 

I’m telling you this because the way I see Ian is completely connected to the therapy I’m doing. What I’ve discovered about my illness, and a possible cure of it, has opened my eyes about every other case of mental illness as well. I’m not saying I understand them all - that would simply be impossible and pretentious. But I feel like I have a new insight, which makes me see reality better than I saw it in the past. 

But as I’ve told you, maybe I’ll talk about it another time. 

Right now, I can tell you that the meds that Ian is taking have made his symptoms more manageable - but I wouldn’t say that they disappeared completely. Depression comes in various degrees as something that keeps you from enjoying life - doing things that make you feel good, having stimulating and healthy relationships with the people around you. Also, sanity comes in various degrees. When it comes to mental health, there is no ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’ and there’s no ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. In the end, what I say about Ian’s condition corresponds to how I feel about it. My analysis are rarely logical and rational - they’re more emotional, and deep, which can also mean that they can be completely wrong. 

1) Ian was able to study for the EMT test - yes, I agree that that was an important “therapeutic” step for him, probably the only good, healthy thing he did in Season 6. Without meds controlling his symptoms and without therapy, he wouldn’t have been able to do that. But I’d also add that before wanting to be an EMT, Ian hadn’t shown a single sign of happiness since the start of Season 6. So, in a way, I’d say that the meds didn’t keep his depression off (on the contrary, he was almost suicidal at the beginning of S6), but finding something that would give him purpose helped with the depression. And the fact that he did it, and he became an EMT, proved that he was better than before. Not that he was healthy. He was better. There’s a difference. If you self-harm every day, and then after a while you stop and maybe you don’t do it for a whole month, it means you’re better than before. Not that you’re healthy. Because maybe you still feel the urge to self-harm, or maybe you’re self-harming in different ways and you don’t know it. I think the greatest help the meds gave Ian was with his psychosis. In therapy, you’ll probably have most therapists agree with this: you can cope with certain symptoms on your own, but you cannot cope with others alone. Psychosis and hallucinations are two of the most severe symptoms you can have with mental illnesses, so I think Ian needed to take anti-psychotics for a while. 

2) He was capable of forming new relationships - Yes, but what kind of relationships? I’ve analysed Caleb and Trevor too much to explain again why they were bad for Ian, so you gotta stop and think about what is healthier: having no relationships and trying to be healthy alone, or having unhealthy relationships that don’t actually help us at all in terms of identity and emotional wellbeing? You’re right, Ian is afraid of loving and being loved - and this is reason number 1 he chose people like Caleb and Trevor, who are completely oblivious to Ian’s mental and emotional life. Someone like Mickey would have helped him far better to gain confidence in dealing with his symptoms and illness, through the gift of love and trust. But Mickey was off limits, and Ian suffered that loss and wasn’t ready to search for someone to love him. Same thing goes with his relationship with his family. His family doesn’t give two shits about him, even if they’d like to think so, and everyone that thinks otherwise either 1. has no idea what a dysfunctional family is like, or 2. still has to come to terms with their own dysfunctional family, and is probably in denial. LOL. (harsh, but true). Don’t misunderstand me - it’s not that they’re evil or bad or do it on purpose (well, Frank is, but just him) - it’s just that they don’t have the emotional tools to love someone properly - and this is why every other Gallagher has mental problems as well, even if they’re not diagnosed (I mean, I guess Carl’s all right).

3) He can take care of himself. He doesn’t tell anyone, ever, how he feels, he surrounds himself with people who never ask his opinion or emotional status, he searches for unemotional relationships and distant partners, he drinks almost every day while taking a looot of meds without doing therapy or periodically going to the doctor: I don’t think this is taking care of oneself. 

You say being afraid of love can be a character trait? Oh, hell no. I mean, think what you think, but that’s just absurd in my eyes. We’re not born ‘afraid of love’. We can become afraid of love after someone disappoints us, betrayes us, hurts us repeatedly, and we have no defenses. A character trait is something that’s part of your identity and personality, how you speak, how you feel, how you move, how you love. And not: how you don’t speak, how you don’t feel, how you don’t move, how you don’t love. Does this make any sense to you? I hope I’m not being too cryptic. 

[srlkiller]

A Valium induced draft entry 📝

These past few months have been impossibly hard. It’s kinda hard to type rn. 5 Valium deep. 6 targin deep. I don’t get much from any of these meds tho expect for slight slouchyness sloth feeling and a general overall calmness I guess. Haven’t been on my usual oxycodone doseage for over a week now. On some low ass slow release withdrawl shit to stop me from getting too ill and adding the Valium to hell with the restlessness/insomnia/anxiety that comes on hard with withdrawals. But that’s beside the point of wtf I’m tryna write about. Just background info.

June was a whole mess. I loss someone so important to me n I’m still going through it majority. Every fucking day. Idk if it’ll get easier. But I don’t wanna forget him ever. The pain is always present. A lot of fuckshit happened n I was goin thrrrruuuuu it man. I quit cigs!!!! Like deadass haven’t had a cig in over a month n I’ve been smoking since I was like 13 or some shit (I’m 24 this year)!! So that was kinda hard but Juul life has saved me fr n I feel soo much better for it. I luv the Juul.

I used to do so many drugs fr like looking back on it. I was on soooo much shit n I just literally stopped it all over time n didn’t even realise how much stuff I ditched. Used to eat benzos like candy legit, was on so many diff pain meds and Lyrica snd tramadol and just mass amounts of anti psychotics, stuff I took I didn’t even kno wtf it was I just accepted the scripts m took the pills man like I was a literal med hamster for psychtrists n doctors cuz I was so messed up. I was just constantly drugged up I lost count of everything I was taking. I just got off everything n I’m so damn proud!!!!!! I think the turning point was my seizure. That scared the shit outta me. Doctors were just giving me all kinds of shit it had an adverse effect on my brain/system to the point where I coulda died... I remember I had a xan period where it was some weak ass street pressed xans and I took heaps for a week straight then stopped then I stayed awake for legit a week after I stopped m it was complete hell...... whatever the fuck they was pressed w Idk but that shit was awful. Been benzo free for the longest until now but I literally only got like 15 Valium just for withdrawl symptoms so it ain’t nothing crazy u kno.

I just can’t believe how much shit I’ve quit in such a short amount of time without even realising it whilst going thru all the other shit I’ve been going thru w my personal life, work life, family issues, health issues, mental health & chronic pain. A huge ass blur of my life but if I break it down I’m doing well on that front n that makes me hella proud of myself :’)

[assholemurphy]

can’t write bc i’ve got to do research on anti-psychotics so that we can find one to put my grandmother on bc the stroke messed with her brain p bad and she’s accusing ppl of stealing her clothes and swapping her meds and just in general going batshit and i love her, i do, so i want her to have the best quality of life and ik this is the right move bc i’ve studied medicine for literal YEARS and i’m on anti-pyschs, myself, so ik what i’m talking abt. but my mom thinks if we just talk to a dr abt putting her on them, bc of how old she is, they’ll just dope her up into a zombie and i’m trying to convince her that’s not what my grandmother’s dr would do, but she doesn’t believe me so i have to do research on shit the dr already knows abt and try to convince her ik better than she does (which i do, but still, convincing her is hard) bc i did a few google searches (which is a far underestimate of my research skills, but i digress) and this isn’t going to be fun at all and i just want to write abt murphy and bell going grocery shopping but noooooo.... i hate this. i can’t wait for school to start. i’ll have my own apartment and i won’t have to come home and sure, i’ll feel guilty as hell for it, but idc. i just want out. it’s not even just my grandmother. my mom treats me like an imbecile despite the fact that i take care of my grandmother most of the day. my dad’s an abusive shitbag who likes to scream and try to hit me, which i rly, rly wish he’d do so i can have an excuse to break his goddamn face, bc this time i’m not going to stop after two punches, if that old bastard can’t learn the first time then i’m gonna teach him a lesson he’ll never forget. my brother is the only tolerable one, but he doesn’t help us with my grandmother at all, but he works 12 hr shifts so i don’t rly blame him. i’ve got so many other things stressing me out and i can’t even sleep at night anymore. i take random ass shit just to stay awake during the day and to keep me stable, on top of the regimand of meds i’m prescribed, but it’s all otc so nobody can say shit abt it bc they don’t know i’m not taking it for the recommended reasons and i just rly want out. i need a drink and a nap and a hug but also to get in a fight and be angry. i’m gonna need a fuckton of therapy just for this summer alone. but i won’t get therapy until i’m back at school. i can’t get out until august. but, now i’ve got to do research so i can help my grandmother so she isn’t out of her fucking head 24/7. i haven’t wanted to die in over 6 months, and yet, this summer has made me consider it again. not srsly, but the thought is there and i don’t like it. and i can’t tell anybody bc they won’t listen or they’ll make me feel crazy or tell me ‘well, i don’t know what to do.’ or ‘what do you want me to do abt it?’ or ‘so do i, we all do, grow up and deal with it.’ and i just want to punch something so hard i break my hand.