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malum-forev · 1 month

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Dr. Bee

Summary: Bucky has quite the reputation but all it takes for him to want to change is an hour with an outspoken little Bee.

Bucky x Nurse!Mom!Reader

Bucky Barnes has many names. James Buchanan Barnes, Buck, The Winter Soldier, Sergeant.

But on compound grounds, and in hushed tones, he’s usually called an asshole.

He’s developed quite the reputation. Being difficult is his natural state of being.

Bucky is constantly late to meetings, doesn’t show up for media days and is always going rogue in missions.

He doesn’t know why he does it, Dr. Raynor says it’s a coping mechanism, but that doesn’t make Bucky want to change one bit. He stays away from people and makes it everyone’s problem when someone decides to talk in his vicinity.

Sam has tried to talk to him but, as per usual whatever the Falcon says, Bucky does the opposite. Sam’s even tried to convince everyone that Bucky’s like an untrained dog, he needs some kind of exposure therapy. Having people stand up to him and flat out call him what he is, that’s what he needs.

Sadly for everyone who works with Bucky Barnes, no one has the balls to do it.

But, everything changed one day.

Everyone scurried away once the quinjet landed at the Avengers compound. They’d gotten word from someone in Logistics that the mission had gone terribly and the agents had barely come out alive.

Bucky stormed into the med bay, his heels digging into the floor with such force you’d think it break, only to find it desolate.

He huffed twice, looking around for anyone who could help with a deep cut on his right arm.

“Hello?!” He yelled out, his temples throbbing and his left eye twitching.

Bucky Barnes waited for no one.

“May I help you?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed at the meek voice coming from behind the nurse’s station. His confusion only grew deeper when he didn’t find anyone there.

A few seconds later a tiny hand popped up, wiggling its chubby fingers at him.

“I said,” The little voice drew out the last word, annoyed. “May I help you?”

Bucky leaned forward and peeked behind the large desk to find a little girl.

Standing with her hands on her hips, the little girl with pigtails looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

Her expression turned to one of concern.

“Are you hard of hearing?” The girl spoke slowly and loudly.

Bucky almost had to cover his ears from the shrill and very high tone of the girl.

“I am not hard of hearing.” Bucky finally responded.

“Then why didn’t you respond?” Little miss pigtails crosses her arms over her chest. “I asked you: may I help you?”

His right eye accompanied his left one in twitching.

After he didn’t respond, the little girl scribbled something down on a paper in front of her.

“What are you writing?” Bucky said through gritted teeth, how can a person so small get on his nerves so quickly?

“I can’t tell you.” She said in a singsong tone.

“Why not?”

“You’re not my patient.” She shrugs, rounding the nurse’s bay holding a pink unicorn lunch box, coming face to face with The Winter Soldier. Actually it was more like coming face to knee height. “Can’t talk to people who aren’t my patients. Doctor patient villigage.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip to conceal a smile. “I think you mean doctor patient privilege.”

“How would you know? You’re not my patient.” The little girl swung her lunchbox, skipping all the way to the waiting room.

He was equally shocked and impressed. This little girl had more balls than most of the agents he worked with.

Bucky looked around the med bay for anyone who knew the girl. Mom, dad, cousin, hell he’d even settle for a dog.

With a groan, he followed behind her. Sure, he was a dickhead but he couldn’t let a kid wander around the Avengers med bay all by herself.

She sat down, opening the lunch box and taking the contents out.

Bucky couldn’t help but think it was cute how her feet didn’t reach the floor. As he came closer, her swinging feet hit him in the shins.

He let out an obviously fake and over the top groan, throwing himself on the floor.

The little girl covered her mouth but her giggles bubbled around the room.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Bucky asked from his position on the ground. “That really hurt.”

“No it didn’t!” She laughed harder.

“Yes it did!”

“I know nothing can hurt you!” She said as her giggles died down. “I know who you are.”

“You do, huh?” Bucky sat next to her.

“Mhm.” She said proudly, taking a bite out of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “But my mommy says I can’t repeat the names she calls you.”

Bucky suddenly felt embarrassed. Dickhead, motherfucker, bastard, asshole had a whole different meaning now that he knew the little girl thought they were synonymous to Bucky.

“Well then,” Bucky cleared his throat. “I should reintroduce myself. My name is James Buchanan Barnes but people usually call me Bucky.”

The little girl placed her tiny hand in his and shook it. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name so, you can call me Bee.”

Bucky nodded his head once, he almost didn’t notice the peanut butter she’d smeared on his hand. “Well Bee, does you mommy or daddy work here?”

Bee shrugs her shoulders. “Can’t tell you.”

He takes a deep breath in. “Can you tell me how you got here?”

“Nope.” She takes another bite of her sandwich.

“Can you tell me how long you’ve been here?”

“Nuh uh.”

Bucky runs a hand over his face. “Is this because of the doctor patient privilege?”

“Yep.” Bee smiles up at him and this time Bucky can’t help but smile back. A blooming feeling erupted in his chest.

Bucky looked down at his hand, trying to find his most surface level wound. Something that wouldn’t traumatize the girl who’s no more than seven years old.

“Dr. Bee, I need your help. Do you have anything for this cut?” Bucky points to the small cut on his knuckle. She didn’t have to know how it came to be, or who’s cheekbone had caused it.

“Thertainly Mr. Bucky.” Bee’s missing front teeth were responsible for her lisp. She jumped off of the chair and hurried behind the nurse’s station.

She swiftly wrapped his knuckles in gauze.

“Do you need me to look over your other arm?” Bee asked sincerely.

“I don’t think you can help with this one.” Bucky chuckled, knocking on the vibranium. “Unless you have anti rust spray.”

Bee threw her head back with laughter but the cute sound was cut short by a door slamming open.

His mind went blank the second he saw her. Bucky couldn’t peel his eyes off of her, even his jaw went slack. He tried to memorize every single detail of her. Her hair, her eyes, her body, the blue scrubs she wore.

“Bee!” She gasped, taking the little girl in her arms. “You almost gave me a heart attack, I told you to stay in the common room!”

“Don’t worry mommy!” She smiles up at the woman who’s taken Bucky’s mind hostage. “I’ve been with Bucky!”

The woman finally looks over at Bucky and he’s sure the world has stopped.

But reality comes crashing down when her eyes lose some of their light.

“Mr. Barnes.” She gasps, pulling Bee to stand behind her body. “I’m so terribly sorry about her, she wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Bucky gulps down the nervous feeling in his throat. He can’t help but feel like the biggest idiot in this universe.

All he’s done for the past few years is be cold, and rude, and now the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, who’s got the cutest most outspoken daughter in the tri state area, is apologizing.

His brain runs out of words and he just stands there.

Bucky keeps quiet as the woman sutures up the wound on his arm, he’d completely forgotten about it.

“Bee’s your daughter?” He manages to speak up after a few minutes.

The woman nods with a smile, keeping her eyes on his wound but Bucky begs the cosmos she looks up at him, even if it’s just for a second. He wouldn’t care if she messes up, if it means their eyes could meet.

Bucky’s kept himself away from feelings for years. He convinced himself he doesn’t need them. But in a quick thirty minutes, Bee and her amazingly beautiful mother have stirred up more emotions than he’s had in the last two decades.

“She-“ Bucky clears his throat. “She mentioned you’ve got a wide array of names for me.”

Her cheeks burned red. “Bee must be mistaken, she’s got a crazy imagination. Always coming up with the strangest things-“

Bucky bit his bottom lip. “I’m used to it.”

The woman gulped, finally looking up at him.

“I’m really sorry about the names.” She whispers.

“It’s okay, darling.” Bucky’s eyes travel from hers to her lips. “But for next time, ‘Bucky’ is just fine.”

She nods, looking back to his wound.

“And you are-“

“(Y/n).” She says.

Bucky’s sure he’s never heard someone with a name as beautiful as hers.

“You’re all patched up.” (Y/n) takes a step away from Bucky. “I’ll finish your report, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”

Bucky stumbles on his feet as he stands up. Embarrassed, he walks straight to the door but stops before leaving the medbay.

“(Y/n)?” He turns on his heel. “Would you please tell Dr. Bee I appreciated her help?”

The light in (Y/n)’s eyes returned as she nodded.

Bucky left the med bay feeling lighter than ever before and he couldn’t help but think a certain little bee had everything to do with it.

Comments and feedback is greatly appreciated!!

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copperbadge · 1 year

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Oh god I got a discussion of therapy all over that poor person’s post about ADHD.....did not mean to spill quite that many personal beans but I queued it when I was tired and it posted before I noticed it was inappropriate.

I wanted to reply to the comments individually but I felt like I’d be disjointed about it and maybe some people don’t want their comment on one post blasted to 30K people on another post, so in a general sense...

I know there are different modalities to therapy -- I have no idea what mine were but I doubt it matters since it was twenty-five years ago and I was a child. Part of the problem is that the modalities which are clear-cut in theory seem unhelpfully loose in practice. I’ll look through a directory of therapists and a half-dozen will give different modalities from each other but talk about the same handful of therapeutic techniques, or address the same family of issues, or both. And most of the modalities both in the clinical and practical sense seem extremely unpleasant, so that is perhaps a Me Problem.

I end up asking myself, “What’s my goal in doing this?” and I picture myself sitting down with a therapist who asks what I’m looking to address, because that would help narrow down my options. But I never have a good answer. So I think, “That seems like an hour a week that could be spent doing something less expensive” and close out of the search window. Then a few weeks later I think “Well, that might be useful, I’ll look around” and the cycle starts again.

There are so many good uses for therapy, but a lot of what people say they use therapy for, I've done on my own for years, or am working on now and don’t feel like I need help. I don’t really have any problems identifying therapists who aren’t going to work for me for one reason or another, but it’s an issue if I can only tell a therapist what I don’t want to do. Saying “I’m not interested in doing roleplays” is fine as boundary-setting but if I can’t say “Because I want to accomplish this different thing” then all I’m doing is insulting someone’s profession, really.

So what’s left? Just the vague sense that other people I like and admire find it useful, and my experiences were very much outlier, so maybe I should try it again. But if I can’t identify why I should try it again, and if I’m going to be aggressively combative about it (which...I don’t want to be but I do know me) then all I’m really doing is paying someone to be insulted by me for an hour, and I can do that to people who deserve it more, for free, on the internet.

niennanir

The thing with therapy, speaking as someone who was a counselor for a period of years, is that it is a tool that supposes a baseline function. Going to Therapy when you have ADHD is very similar to being handed a hammer and told to use it when you have no arms.

I did want to respond to this comment specifically because a) that’s very validating and b) it means that if I do want to continue looking I guess a good place to start would be asking my meds psych, because he at least deals with adults with ADHD on the reg and can be like “Well, first we gotta get you some robot arms.”

I just like the idea of having robot arms, really. The hammer’s a bonus!

...my meds psych is a very nice man but he’s also super earnest and will probably not understand why I find the robot arms thing so funny.

#ivylaughed #justforfollowingpeople #ladymordecai #magpiemood #catchandelier #niennanir #therapy

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w1ldthoughts · 9 months

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The Forgotten One Chapter Four: You’re my Best Friend

Series Masterlist

Warning: Mentions of medication and injuries as well as trauma.

The first month after the accident was spent gingerly easing back into somewhat of a normal routine. Jack had physical therapy three times a week for his shoulder, got rid of the sling and prepared himself to head back to work. You had been recommended by your doctors to move at your own pace. You took up yoga and daily walks, anything to ease the mind and get you to relax enough to allow the memories to come flooding back naturally. The two of you had stopped putting pressure on getting you to remember and simply started over as friends. Jack was a fantastic roommate and you could see glimpses of why you fell for him so hard. He knew you like the back of his hand: your favorite shows, foods, music. And you began to unpack a lot of things about him too, like his disdain for the color yellow and his obsession with Pokemon cards.

But the most important part was the little things. He never forgot to give you your meds and a cup of water before bed. One afternoon he came back from PT and covered you with a blanket after you had fallen asleep on one of the couches in the living room. And there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t check in and ask how you were feeling and if there was anything he could do to help. Another thing you’d added to your routine was a weekly status report where you asked each other a series of questions regarding the state of your mental health. You asked each other about nightmares, things that were plaguing your minds during normal day-to-day activities and if there was anything either of you needed to get off your chest that you felt only the other would understand. He felt like less of a stranger and more of a partner in crime and that had made this time so much more comfortable.

“Now that I’m finally able to drive and we can go out and do things, I made plans for us this week.” Jack plops down onto the couch next to you, stealing a grape out of your bowl.

You furrowed your eyebrows in anticipation, “What are we getting into?”

“Several things, but I’m taking us to our first stop right now. So I’m going upstairs to change into something casual. We aren’t doing anything crazy.”

Thirty minutes later the two of you headed off in Jack’s car to your unknown location. You let out a laugh when he pulled into a parking spot and announced that this was the first stop.

“Main Event?” You giggled, “I haven’t been to one of these since—”

“Our first date.” He finished for you. “This is where I took you after finally convincing you to go out with me.”

“This is amazing. My first date with the son of a billionaire was at a massive arcade.” You shook your head, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “Alright then, let’s do this. Might have lost my memory but I will never lose my competitive spirit. Are you ready to get your ass beat in these games Mr. Harlow?” You gave him a cocky smirk.

There’s my girl, he thought to himself.

He unfortunately got the best of you in pop-a-shot but you did beat him at air hockey. Then you headed over to the skeeball area and it got him thinking.

Four years earlier…

“What the fuck? Are you some sort of skee ball professional or something, what is this?” Jack cackled, watching you land in the 100 slot for the third time in a row. “Here I thought I was going to impress you with my ticket earnings and get you a massive bear but you might have to get me one.”

He’d reserved the entire building for three hours just for the two of you. “You know, I’m really glad you didn’t bring me to some Michelin star restaurant with seven one-bite courses. This is so much better.”

Jack grabs the ball from you, rolling it into the 40 slot, a look of disappointment written all over his body. You hugged his arm and gave him a pat on the back, “you’ll get ‘em next time buddy, maybe you’ll even be as good as me when you grow up.”

He kisses the smile off your face and every one of your pores oozes happiness. You were on a date with your fucking boss and you were actually enjoying it. You enjoyed being with him and it was apparent with the intensity of the kiss that he felt lasted a lifetime. He wanted to keep kissing you, keep laughing with you and keep enjoying every moment he got to spend with you, as long as you’d allow it.

The two of you walked over to the prize station at the end of your adventure and you let Jack pick out a prize that he happily walked around with for the rest of the day.

“Wait…is that why you have that giant blue teddy bear in your room?” You laughed, taking a bite of your pizza as you watched him nod.

He gives you a warm smile. “Sometimes when I miss you I just grab him and put him in the bed so I have something to hold on to. It’s one of my favorite memories of us. Just having fun, playing silly games without any care in the world.”

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the heartache he must feel every day. Seeing you but not being able to be with you in a way that he’d gotten used to. But it felt nice to hear him talk about your past without as much sadness in his eyes as the first days, if you had to guess it was probably a bit therapeutic.

“Well, what prize are you going to pick out with these tickets?” You asked, looking at the bag full of them.

“You should choose.” He nodded his head towards the prizes when you got there.

The two of you stood there for a second as you pondered your decision. “I think I want the purple bear with the bowtie. Purple is your favorite color, right?”

He clears his throat, physically getting rid of the lump forming there. “Um yeah—yeah purple is my favorite color, I only mentioned that once. Glad you remembered.”

“Okay so I’ll get the purple one then.” You thanked the employee when he handed it to you and you let Jack carry it out to the car. “You know that blue is my favorite color which is probably why you got it, so that’s why I got this one. Now we each have a bear in our beds and even though we’re not connected like how we used to be, we can make new memories that are just as special.”

Jack nodded slowly and pulled you in for a hug, letting out a sigh of relief when you returned his embrace. Maybe this walk down memory lane was just what the doctor ordered.

The next stop on the tour was a visit to your old apartment building, the one you vividly remembered. It was completely empty and the walls had been painted a sleek cool gray instead of the white chipped walls that you were used to.

“How did you get access to this place?”

“I bought it.” Jack states plainly. “Wanted to turn this into an extra space for you to do whatever you wanted since you mentioned how much you loved it. So I was planning on refurbishing it to whatever you decided but obviously we didn’t get around to it.”

Ew, he really really loved you and the little crush on him that you’d been pushing down for the last couple of weeks was getting harder to hide. “Okay so, this was my apartment. Why is this what you called the most important place on memory lane?”

Three Years Earlier…

“You really need to start being more serious. Captain America: The Winter Soldier is so much better than Iron Man 2 and you know that! Steve having to literally fight to the death against his childhood best friend and then realizing it was Bucky? Please, that is cinema.” You scoff, tossing another Sour Patch Kid into your mouth.

Jack throws his head back in laughter, irking your nerves even more. “You think anything with Chris Evans is ‘cinema’ so I don’t really wanna hear it.”

“Says the guy who drools every time he watches an episode of The Sopranos!” You point your finger at him for emphasis, “you have no room to talk.”

“Aw, is my baby jealous of Meadow Soprano? Come here.”

You resist his advances by turning your head back to the screen in front of you. Jack moves closer and closer until he’s sitting on top of you on the couch. “Jack move, you’re heavy.”

“Not until you give me a kiss.”

“No, just move. I can’t breathe.” You laugh as he holds your face in his large hands, scooting to the side to take some of his weight off of you, but not entirely getting off your lap.

Jack sighs as you close your eyes. “Look at me.” You shake your head and he repeats himself until you blink your eyes open. “There she is. Meadow ain’t got nothing on you baby…trust me.”

“You’re my favorite thing in the world. My one and only. And I would still love you even if you chose Chris Evans over me.”

You swore the Earth stopped spinning for a second. “You what?”

“I said, I would still love you even if—”

“You love me?” You whispered, a tingling sensation brewing in your legs that wasn’t from your boyfriend sitting on them. You felt like you were floating.

He let out a stifled laugh and gave you a gentle kiss. “I love you. So much. I love everything about you. And I’m not saying that just so you can say it back, I really mean that. I—”

“I love you too Jack. I really do, even if you do have shitty Marvel movie takes.”

Jack couldn’t wait until those three words came out of your mouth again. But he knew it would be worth it so just for that, maybe he could wait as long as it took, just to feel how he felt that day.

The two of you then headed over to Churchill Downs Inc., where everyone welcomed you with warm hugs and so much love. This really was the best place to work and you couldn’t wait to catch up on everything and head back to a somewhat normal life. And making money again didn’t sound too bad either. Jack walked with you upstairs and there was a man sitting at a desk in front of what you now noticed was your office door.

“Y/n, this is your assistant Ben. Ben, we’re just here to let her see the place and check everything out, shouldn’t be too long.” Jack reassures him, sensing that Ben was busy.

The man, who you now know as Ben, stands up anyway. “It’s so good to see that you’re out and about again. Do you guys need anything? Coffee or snacks? I just restocked your mini fridge in there just in case.”

“Thank you Ben, but I think I’m good for now.” You told him with a smile. He gives you a simple nod and returns the smile, all of his pearly whites on display. Cleo calls Ben’s phone and asks him to come to her office as Jack opens the office door and you follow right behind him.

“How long have I had this assistant? He seems to know every single thing about me.” You observe, opening the door to the mini fridge to find it full of your favorite drinks and the cabinet stocked with snacks that you thought only Jack knew you liked.

Jack leans on the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “Um, maybe like a year? Probably a little longer. He’s good at his job though, he’s been keeping track of your progress reports and other stuff while we’ve been gone. And you seemed to like him before the accident so he’s probably overdue for a raise honestly.”

“Yeah you should give him one, he seems like he knows what he’s doing and he’s clearly doing it well.” You didn’t know why you felt so strongly about this since you just met him, but you felt like you needed to let Jack know that this was important to you.

He didn’t say another word, just let you look around until you got bored and then asked if you were ready to head home. You bid your goodbyes to everyone and headed back to Jack’s car so he could drive the two of you back to his—your shared house.

While you showered and got ready for the night, you thought back to the man you met earlier. You had to admit that Ben was cute and something about him felt peaceful and familiar, the kind of ease that took a month to build with Jack, who you supposedly were madly in love with. It made you feel bad so you ignored the nagging feeling and headed downstairs to find the curly haired man rapping along to some song called ‘Industry Baby?’ You still had things to catch up on but Jack was so busy with his salmon and the song to even notice you coming into the kitchen. He looked so free and happy that it made your heart swell. You wondered how many times you’d seen this sight, your man cooking dinner for you, serenading you along the way and listening to music together while you cleaned up the kitchen afterwards. The song “You are the Reason” came up as you placed the last utensil in the dishwasher and Jack reached out to you.

“Can I have this dance?” He asked and you dried your hands off to join him. You allowed him to pull you into his arms, slowly swaying to the music, your bodies fitting together seamlessly. He spun you around a few times and welcomed you back in, your head resting on his chest as the hand that wasn’t holding yours made its way around your waist. You found yourself resting your arms around his neck, taking a look in his eyes, a toothy grin appearing on his face. This was the closest you two had been since you woke up and your heart was beating in your ears when you found yourself looking at his lips. The thought of kissing him was exhilarating and he leaned down to press his nose against yours, his touch tickling your skin. He leaned in tentatively and luckily your hands were already around his neck so you pulled him down to you, your lips connecting in a tender kiss, the most delicate one you’d ever experienced and those feelings of anticipation and nerves melted away and made way for—nothing.

You felt nothing. No fireworks or warm sensation in your body sending shivers down your spine like you expected. You were kissing your boyfriend for god’s sake. The man who had literally dropped everything and catered to your every whim the last month and three weeks and now you were finally doing something with some sort of romantic intimacy and it left you feeling…empty.

It was too much. You frantically pulled away, feeling tears brewing in your eyes and Jack looked at you, clearly concerned.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” He gave you a look over to see if there were physical signs of pain like bloodshot eyes or a pronounced vein on the side of your head that he now had come to learn you got when you had a migraine.

“I didn’t—I didn’t feel anything when we kissed.” You sobbed, a hot tear burning its way down your cheek. “Nothing came back either. I thought, I thought something would come to me, maybe even a flash of a memory, anything really.”

He sighs and runs his hands up and down your shaky arms. “It’s okay, we’re okay. We don’t have to rush anything, the way we’re headed is just fine it’s not—”

“Aren’t you concerned that I didn’t feel anything? No spark no—no butterflies, nothing! That doesn’t scare you?” You stressed, stepping back from him.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re recovering from a traumatic brain injury y/n, a true love's kiss isn’t going to magically fix it and I recognize that. We have to be patient. Take it a day at a time like we said?”

“I’m TIRED of being patient Jack. It’s been a month and I still have no idea who the hell I'm supposed to be. I don’t want to wait anymore.” The tears would not stop flowing and you couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. Things weren’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jack rushes out, alarms sounding off in his head.

You didn’t know what to say so you didn’t say anything, he watched you walk upstairs to your room and heard the door close. He took his time heading up to his room, stopping at your room for a few minutes, listening to your sobs through the door. All he could do was shed a few tears of his own, knowing deep down that he was losing his best friend.

Taglist

@jackharloww

@killatravtramp

@middlechild404

@harlowcomehome

@itsyagirljaz

@iknowdatsrightbih

@earthtoharlow

@alimaythings

@rosie-posie08

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow angst #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow au

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princessmadafu · 1 year

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Eagerly awaiting Spare 2: The Chamber Pot of Secrets

Now that the media furore has died down a bit and we've all had time to think, what can we say about the Spare?

Well, first of all, I'd say Harry has been set up.

Again.

And he's too dim to see it, because he's being told (by someone in particular and probably a few other hangers-on as well) that "his truth" is important. And he believes it. Harry's "truth" has been filtered by money-grubbing bottom-feeders, and now H prefers to believe that "their truth" is "his truth"; that they love him more than anyone else; and they know what's best for him.

So:

(1) Harry can't distinguish his truth from reality. We've known this for a while, but so many new *facts* coming out... it's really taking the pee-pee. "Harry's Truth" isn't the same as facts. A fact is a piece of information that can be proven to be true; it stands up to rigorous scrutiny, especially by rigorous professional fact-checkers, who quickly noted that bit about the XBox, of which I freely admit I know nothing, but even I managed to check it out on the internet in about ten seconds. Did nobody fact-check Spare? Oooh, apparently not. Why not? And King Henry VI... And the Queen Mum's death... and the rest of it. Which leads us on to:

(2) Harry took (and is possibly still taking) Class A drugs and assorted forms of happy-juice, even to the point of stoking himself up on the wife's gas as she prepared for labour, which is despicable. He's such a feminist he took her meds for her!!! A**hole. I gave birth three times (homebirths, without meds; Princess Madafu wasn't around at the time so I did the painful "manly" work of squeezing babies out of my bum all by myself...) and I just want to deck Harold for interfering with his wife's meds. But drug use messes up your brain, Harry. So do grubby compliant therapists, by the way, who are rubbing their hands in glee at all the $$$ you hand over - they're on to a good deal and it's not in their financial interests to sort you out by Month 6 of Therapy when they can trick you into Year 6 of Therapy... or Year 16... or Year 26...

(3) He's envious of William and Catherine. This shines through. His older brother married the love of his life, a woman who has devoted herself to her man and the RF and between them they've produced three gorgeous well-grounded little ones and a firm base on which to take the RF forward. The Prince and Princess of Wales have learned from the mistakes of the unfortunate previous generation of royals, whereas Harry is now an "Oh dear" in the footnotes of the monarchy. And this leads us on to:

(4) Harry has no respect for Charles and Camilla. The Queen Consort is and always has been Charles's lighthouse and security from the storms of public life. Charles should never have been pushed into marrying the naive teenager Diana, but that's how it was back then - that's how history works! Charles was expected to marry a blushing virgin bride he hardly knew. Harry, aren't you glad you were allowed to marry a several-times-up-the-maypole divorcee? You learn from history, right, so that you don't repeat the same mistakes. Of course that involves being aware of history, which Harold isn't; he's only aware of how time healed his frostbitten todger and saved it for someone who could use it to her advantage. Over-sharing, Harry! Please shut up! Nobody wants to know! And then there's:

(5) Harry has no respect for the British Public. Or the Commonwealth. Or the army. Even enemy soldiers have families; mothers, fathers, wives, children - they are not chess pieces to be removed. Personal remembrance: my Gt-grandma's brother was KIA in 1916; my Gt-grandad served in the same war but never spoke about it; my Grandad served in WW2, never spoke about it - he showed me his medals, once. Once. Once only. The only things I remember him saying about the war were the "safe" bits - that he spent some of it in Canada training Canadian troops and got to see Niagara Falls, and mailed all his chocolate rations back to his wife and infant son. My late brother in law served in the Coldstream Guards, never spoke a word about how many men he'd had to shoot; he took all that to his early and leg-amputated death. What happens in the army stays in the army, Harold; it's not for personal validation.

(6) He hates the British Media. Supposedly because his mother was killed by paps (in France; not British paps) when the world knows she died because she wasn't wearing a seat-belt in a car that crashed at speed driven by a DUI driver. Oh and he also hates the British Media because Meghan is Diana.2 and... wait, what? No she isn't. She wants him to believe she's Diana.2. If it's not drugs doing his head in it's Megadiana. How many paps have tried to run Catherine off the road in a tunnel in Paris? How many paps have tried to take topless pictures of her - ooh, there was one, but it wasn't in Britain, I'm pretty sure it was in France and the magazine was sued for it, so not in Britain then. Not British Media. Not British paps. And let's not forget that Diana was more than capable of manipulating the pap shoots she wanted... remind you of anybody?

(7) He still has mummy issues, decades later. This is just not normal for a grown man. I'm sure Harry loathes being compared to his brother but what the heck, I'm going for it! Two young boys, both suffering from the untimely loss of their mother. Yet William doesn't have mummy issues, or at least if he does he doesn't hang them out to dry for a voracious public airing. It's no good saying that Harry is more sensitive, he's not - he just hasn't grown up, and those around him are keeping him trapped in the net of mummy issues instead of allowing him to mature into the adult he should be; he's not the man he thinks he has become. And I still keep coming back to why, so let's move on to:

(8) His therapy isn't working and he needs a proper psych evaluation. The people he thinks are helping him just aren't. They are milking him for the cash cow that he has become. The RF and whatever PR they use appear to have done everything to protect Young Harry from this, right down to convincing us that he was a high-spirited Jack-the-Lad, fond of a little tipple but devoted to his country and the army veterans he served alongside. Take away the RF and the carefully scrutinising PR machine, and he is ripe for the plucking. And boy, is he being plucked. Every last feather.

Now this next one is a bother:

(9) He can't see his own hypocrisy, has zero empathy for anyone, and cannot see how "his truth" - his own words - can damage others. Others including his own mother, his father and step-mother, his wider family, his army colleagues, the wider British public who are all a bunch of racists, apparently. Harry has a lot of short-comings. No doubt there'll be "Spare 2: The Chamber of Secrets" and he'll blame his short-comings on his frozen todger, but the lack of self-awareness is pathetic. He cannot see his own failings, refuses to take responsibility for his own actions, and blames everyone else. So what can we say? Is he really so stupid? Or is he in some sort of "Cult-Of-Himself" delusion, promulgated by his Feather Pluckers?

(10) The awful wife wears Harry's man-bits and is conspicuous by her absence, as she journals and squirrels away evidence for her divorce lawyers. Yep, I think we're all agreed on that one!

My personal opinions only, as they say in reputable circles.

Love and peace.

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triplexdoublex · 1 month

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technically yes nobody can save you but I agree that hearing your fav saying that they’ve been through the same stuff that u have is very comforting especially when dealing with mental illness cause it can be a very isolating experience. But it is your choice and decision to get better, your fav person can show u that they also went to therapy and how it has helped them and that can influence you to go and try it out but that’s still up to u. With Kells I think he’s struggling a lot even if he tries not to show it to not worry us that much, and from what I’ve seen I don’t think he feels deserving of our love and devotion to him or that his mind wants to believe that we will turn on him and he’ll end up alone as he was most of his life. The line “who am I when the music stops” imo kind of shows that he’s scared all the love and support will leave when he’s not singing no more, and that maybe everyone who hated will come out in support of him only when he’s dead, cause that’s what’s happened to a lot of artists who have passed (like he mentioned in his line “thinkin maybe the hate’ll finally go away if I’m not alive”). He definitely knows we love him through the support we give him on music and project but I think he’s scared to even through music really be honest with us cause he’ll be scrutinised for it. He’s got so many eyes on him now and I think he’s scared to lose the fame and publicity he so badly wanted for so long. I believe with “don’t let me go” he even said that it was a song he usually wouldn’t put out if he had more time to sit on it or something. and I think that’s why he’s also holding onto Megan. She helped him get the fame he worked so hard for years to get, he finally got the recognition that he so badly fought for and I think if he loses her he's afraid he’ll also lose that part of fame and the awards and such, not saying he didn’t get awards before Megan but she definitely helped him get to another level of fame and publicity. And I think if he loses Megan he’ll be made fun of in the media. At the start everyone was so out of their minds on how a guy like him could get the world loved hottie Megan Fox and if it comes out saying that they aren’t together anymore, even tho all the people who saw the relationship as toxic or weird will be happy, he’ll still be laughed at for managing to lose the “most beautiful women”. Like they made fun of him after the em disses, he’ll also be made fun of if he loses Megan.

TW// Suicide ideation

Yes technically you’re saving yourself by making the decisions needed to better your mental health but sometimes you need that spark of hope to get you started and kells is that spark for a lot of people. I’ve had many sparks along my mental health journey one of them actually being song lyrics from the song “Self Conclusion” by The Spill Canvas. I was driving home from work thinking about ending it all, I already knew how I was gonna do it — I had recently had my wisdom teeth removed and this was back when they would give you prescription pain meds for literally anything (which is how how the opioid crisis started) They gave me Percocet even though I said that I didn’t want them because I was afraid of getting addicted (addiction runs in my family) He insisted I would NEED them. But I didn’t they sat in my cabinet full and unused, and I was planning to take the bottle. I had just pulled into my driveway when the song started playing , a song I’d heard a million times before but the lyrics “we all flirt with the tiniest notion of self conclusion in one simplified motion, the trick is your never supposed to act on it, no matter how unbearable this misery gets” hit different in that moment and felt like a sign to me to stay and get help. I sat in the car and sobbed for what felt like fovever , then went inside and got rid of the pills. And did start therapy shortly after. Yearsss later when I met the lead singer I thanked him for SAVING me! Of course I was the one who decided not to go through with it and to start going to therapy , but what if I never heard that song at the exact moment I needed it , would I even be here having this conversation… there’s a good chance I wouldn’t. So yes I believe I was saved by their music!

Kells definitely gets a lot underserved hate , he has shared many times that he worries about not being appreciated until his dead. Another lyric that comes to mind is “everybody hates, but can anybody love me, guess they’ll wait until my face is on the mural” i think he finally did get a little taste of being taken more seriously when Tickets to my downfall and Mainstream sellout both went number one and her acquired a bunch of new fans . But it must be so hard to know that pretty much everyone outside of the fanbase hates him.

I don’t believe Megan helped kells to rise to fame , if anything he boosted her non existent acting career ( when was the last time you heard about Megan Fox before they got together … maybe 2007ish ) Kells gained more fame for revitalizing the pop-punk scene, but I do agree that he will be dragged for ‘loosing Megan’ I’ve already seen evidence of it in social media comments

#machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #megan fox #tw// suicide

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athenaalexandria · 5 months

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I’ve also been thinking about ableism in America. Did you know researchers who taught sign language to chimps didn’t actually know sign language itself. They just took floating signs and modified them for ape hands and gave this new language spoken grammar. So not only are we saying that sign language isn’t a language and not respecting it, but we are also trying to force animals to communicate our way when really we should be trying to learn how to communicate their way. Like this is why so many neurotypicals are AWFUL pet owners. They don’t listen to their pet because they refuse to learn how and so even though they may love their pet they still hurt them in a myriad of ways simply because they refuse to understand that animals aren’t people and also aren’t toys but their own unique creature with their own unique communication.

Also continuing on the ableism side, why is it that when I am so depressed I want to go on a sewer slide and have to leave work for a few months, everyone’s first question is when I’ll be back to work. Not if I’m ok, not how they can help, but when I’ll be better and can get back to labor. Also there are companies that exist purely to say “you don’t deserve this time off so we won’t be giving you your pittance to live off of while you are sick”. It’s almost as bad as health insurance.

Also, why do people always assume the worst of your words? They never give the benefit of the doubt. They find the worst possible reading of your words and go off of that. Like I express frustration around getting my ADHD meds, and I get yelled at for wanting addicts to die. Like what??? Or I want to share a fun thing I made, and I get “called out” for advertising and being a shill. Like no we were talking about TikTok, I made a TikTok I was proud of that was getting traction and wanted to share my joy, and I get shut down.

Also I hold grudges for so long. Like these things happened 2 years ago and I’m still mad about it. I have to fight off the urge to message these people to this day. I blame being a Pisces because I’m hilarious.

I’ve been failed by nearly everyone in my life so consistently and egregiously that I don’t think I will ever be able to live a normal life. I am forever dealing with the consequences of other people’s choices on how they treated me, and that hurts more than the original acts themselves. Cutting off contact with parents cut my souls into ribbons. My “friends” only spending time with me out of pity cracked my mind. The crushing loneliness broke my body. And I was only 10. I’m a shriveled version of what I could have been. I don’t dislike who I have become, but I will never be thankful for the pain I’ve been through. Trauma doesn’t have silver linings, damage isn’t good, it’s just pain. You could have been who you are now with no hurt.

Anyways I’m really high, and I’ve been battling the realization that I might have DID or OSDD or something and I’ve been feeling a lot of emotions especially since I’m back on my HRT again. Not sure what this is but honestly I’m using tumblr as a diary at this point and that’s ok with me. I like the idea that nobody sees these posts so I can vent with the chance that maybe one day someone will stumble upon my blog diary thing as like an archeological find. Like oh wow here’s some ancient writings from a transgender lesbian with chronic pain and many mental disabilities! What a rare find!

Oh also I meant to bring up therapy is great but you have to show your cracks so they can put bandaids on and teach you the exercises to heal the breaks.

Plagiarism is bad, I’m sleepy? Goodnight

#highposting #diary entry #disability #ableism #animals

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lucysweatslove · 6 months

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I have way too much on my plate and am in such a bad mood.

Last night my parents decided to have another argument over my dad’s new speakers. For context, he got his old set in the 90s. He started looking into a new setup a couple years ago. This was a huge source of strife in their definitely not super rocky marriage (sarcasm) where my dad would go to Best Buy just to listen to cool speakers and have to hide it from my mom. Note that both my parents are working professionals and have more than enough money for new speakers. They have a very nice retirement nest egg and are well off enough to literally pay for my med school without any issues. They paid off their home years ago.

My dad is also huge into music. For as long as I can remember, his music collection has been super prized and special. Once I took one of his CDs and almost lost it, and it was so distressing to him that he moved his entire collection away from the family’s. He would put loud surfer music on to relax when I was a kid and spent a lot of time watching music performances from the 60s and 70s. He got Sirius XM when I was in middle school and would routinely quiz me on the music, saying I should just be able to recognize a band from their style. When I was a young teen, he shared another album with me when I was sick, and that was like, the most special way he knew how to connect.

My point being, music isn’t a new hobby and my parents have more than enough money to get him a fancy hifi set. My mom just kept refusing because why aren’t the “top of the line” speakers from the 90s good enough?

Well my dad finally got his new speakers but decided to move them to his (home) office. So he did. And that set off another argument with threats of divorce.

And they brought my little sister into the middle of it using hugely manipulative language. Yeah my sis is now technically an adult, but she’s still their child and it’s grossly inappropriate to put your child in between the two of you. She’s a human, not a pawn.

So I woke up in a shit mood already, and I had a busy day of a doctor’s appointment, a therapy appointment, clinical medicine workshop, then a class where I have to give a stupid chalk talk which I’ve been so sick and so busy that I just. Haven’t had time to prepare at all.

And as I start getting dressed, I realize I have no idea if I’m expected to be in professional dress for the workshop because there is no indication online if we have guest panelists or speakers or sim patients. But the professional clothes are all overstimulating and itchy and I was like *this close* to mini meltdown status, so I emailed the course lead to ask… put on clothes that were just comfortable in the mean time… packed a bag with professional clothes to change into if needed..

I get an email back that doesn’t even answer the question, stating that professional attire is required for patients, sim patients, speakers, and panelists. Which I knew. I didn’t know if we had another of those today, because there isn’t any info about it online. I emailed back but haven’t heard back.

My doctor is now running 45 min late (I’ve been here for over an hour), I had to turn off the lights in the exam room because they were too bright, and I had to cancel/reschedule therapy because it was supposed to start at 11.

I’m not mad at anybody in particular other than my parents. I’m just annoyed and overstimulated and want to crawl into a dark pit and sob.

And of course in the car to the hospital, I was practicing telling the nurse I would like to decline being weighed. Because I know it would be triggering. But when she grabbed me, I couldn’t do it.

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vaulthuntersmybeloved · 7 months

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Okay so rant about the doctors time

So I’ve been trying to find anxiety meds that actually work for me and I ended up trying two that both gave me panic attacks from nightmares and as someone who has NEVER dreamed and only got nightmares like ONCE a year at the most it was happening every single night and I ended up not sleeping properly for a month until they finally let me change meds

And the meds I’m on now are fine but are at too low a dose but the doctors are all fuckin useless and just want you to go to therapy and magically be fixed and never need meds so they try every single time to get you off of them and it’s super fuckin exhausting because my anxiety is making me try and get out of there as soon as possible so I just don’t argue and take what I’m given which is why my meds now aren’t strong enough

So my mum (my life saver) has permission to speak on my behalf because my anxiety is too bad to answer phone calls and shit and we asked to change the main number to her number because they still kept trying to ring me because they’re all fuckin idiots. Anyways just found out today that apparently they didn’t even add her number as an alternate number to ring let alone the main number they should ring so I’m fuckin PISSED and THEN they have the AUDACITY to say they can’t change the number to her number without my written permission for some fuckin reason when WE ALREADY FUCKIN DID ALL OF THAT AND THEY’RE THE ONES WHO DIDN’T FUCKIN DO ANYTHING WHEN WE ASKED THEM TO!!!!

And I’m so fuckin exhausted and just want to take a nap but I can’t because there’s still a chance they’ll fuckin ring my number because they’re all fuckin IDIOTS who NEVER FUCKIN LISTEN

#Rebs rant #i’m so tired #this is why I didn’t push for a higher dose because dealing with doctors is just endless anxiety and them never LISTENING #I’ve literally never felt listened to by a doctor #they’re all useless #they all have their own fuckin agendas when it comes to mental health and it just makes it worse #WHEN THEIR JOB IS TO MAKE IT BETTER #‘have u tried talking therapy’ you mean gaslighting myself into thinking I’m okay? yes I have and it didn’t fuckin work you dipshits #ah yes because talking about having anxiety magically makes it go away #‘your anxiety is irrational’ NO SHIIIIITTT ALMOST LIKE THATS WHAT ANXIETY IS

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formerprincewille · 9 months

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One thing that bugs me about the s2 finale of Ginny and Georgia is the mention of Marcus being “back on his meds”. Why is it that media pushes the idea that you only need to be on meds when you’re in a bad place and when you feel okay you should just quit them? THAT IS THE WHOLE POINT OF THEM TO BEGIN WITH!!! Someone feeling better on meds is not a sign to stop taking them. They’re working, and if you stop taking them they’re not there to work anymore. It drives me crazy how much tv and film seems to shame the idea of taking medication. Sometimes people’s brain chemistry is helped by it. Getting off of it because you’re “feeling better” is a harmful message to send. Why is it that therapy is shown helping people but meds aren’t? That they’re a weakness that can be overcome?

#ginny and georgia #marcus baker #gng #medication #mental health

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bl0w-m3 · 11 months

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Nothings worse than getting worse while doing everything your supposed to do.

I’m exercising.

I’m journaling.

I’m going to therapy.

I’m taking my meds.

I’m doing the work.

But I’m not getting better.

Why aren’t I getting better?

I did what I was supposed too.

That’s not fair.

#chronic pain #bpd #actually bpd #mental health #bpd shit #actually borderline #bpd shitposting #bpd problems #mental illness #bpd mood #bpd meme #major depressive disorder #anxiety #CPTSD #PTSD

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sanriopropaganda · 2 months

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vent under the cut

ive had two best friends in my life, one from elementary to high school who moved away when we were 14 and we grew apart, and the other i met in my freshman year of college who dropped me for a romantic partner. i haven’t been able to find anyone since.

i have close friends, i even have people i might consider some of my best friends, but those people have their own best friend, and it’s not me. im not apart of a friend group, i mostly just bounce around from hangout to hangout. i interact with people a lot! im friends with a good number of people! i just. don’t have that one person that everyone else seems to.

i thought i had found a good group of girls that could maybe be a friend group since i don’t have one since moving back home. they were already friends, and i met them through a mutual friend that was also fairly new to the group. i was just scrolling on instagram today and i saw that there was a birthday party i wasn’t invited to that i just. had to find out through social media had happened. even the newer person was invited.

and maybe i had overinflated my position, or maybe i saw or felt something that wasn’t mutual, but after being invited to other gatherings and parties with the full group, it hurt! and then i started thinking about how they dont really talk to me outside of those hangouts. and there was a group chat they forgot to add me to (whether or not it was purposeful or not i don’t know). i thought maybe we would talk more as time went on, and ive tried to initiate those conversations, but. it’s never worked out.

and ik no one is obligated to hang out with me, ik no one is obligated to invite me to anything, especially since we haven’t known each other for a full year. but it just sucks bc like. im never anyone’s person. im no one’s best friend. people aren’t really jumping at the chance to be with me. i feel like the same lonely kid i always have been.

and it also just feels like. all for nothing? ive done so much work. i try really hard to be someone people like. i think im personable and nice and funny and people say i come off as confident. i dress nicely, i try to talk to people, i try to be supportive and there for others when they need to vent. ive changed so much. im no longer that shy awkward teen i once was, and thats great! i have my moments bc of social anxiety, but i have done a lot to be someone that people want to be around. and of course i have my flaws and things i try to work on but. it all just feels like it’s for nothing. bc im still that kid that doesn’t have a lunch table to sit at. and i feel like im letting myself down.

but even then i feel like it’s all fake. i don’t know where the real me ends and the mask begins. how much of me being a good person is me? how much of it is what i think other people want to see? i don’t know! but sometimes i think. that mask may slip, and i say something weird, or im a little too loud, or i get too excited and i talk too much, or i get too comfortable and i think someone may like me for me! and they don’t.

and ik the reaction to that may be “well you need to know yourself before you can be loved”. i don’t know if that’s ever going to happen! i truly don’t! ive been mentally ill and lonely my whole life. and they just. feed into each other. idk how to separate the loneliness from myself, I don’t know what it means to not feel like this. but does that mean i don’t deserve to love and be loved? aren’t there other people who have found connections and joy and love while being like me? what is it about me that is so repugnant? i try really hard, i genuinely do, i go to therapy and i only sometimes take my meds but i am genuinely really trying and i dont know why im not getting anywhere. but i want to be better, i really do! even with the depression, and the anxiety, and the bpd, i really do try.

i just want to be someone people genuinely truly like and want to be around. i want to meet people and have them think “wow i want to be her friend”. i want to not get dropped for other people. i want to be someone’s first choice. but im not. i want to have a group of people, and even just one, that i think of and who thinks of me when those silly memes of “me and the girls” pop up.

and sometimes i wonder if im just destined to be alone. it really sucks, but i wish some cosmic entiry or god or something would tell me that that’s just the way i am. and that i should just stop trying bc it’ll never matter anyway. it would make it hurt less. but there is no cosmic entity and there is no god and there is no here’s the life ive always dreamed of i will make it mine. it’s just being alone.

so im stuck. trying and failing and wondering what’s wrong with me. maybe im really not as great at being a person as i thought. maybe i am still just ugly and weird and it eventually shows. but i keep trying because thats all i know how to do. until the cosmic entity or god or whoever shows up and tells me to stop.

i really just want to run away a lot of the time. if i moved to some new city far away then i still wouldn’t have friends but i would have an excuse! but i can’t bc i don’t know how and im scared. im really scared that nothing will ever change and ill die alone. probably by my own hand if it gets much worse. but im scared of that too.

#personal #tw ideation #i don’t ever post personal really but. feels good to scream into the void ig

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limeade-l3sbian · 10 months

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One of the things that contribute to anorexia or bulimia I was told (I was encouraged to have anorexia by my mother and having people comment on my weight or appearance or how much or little I’m wrong even post recovery is still a massive trigger to me. Fully weight restored and have folks comment I’m “skinny” which triggers me because I’m no sick. I’m healthy. When I had anorexia nervousa I loved it because I wanted to be sick. I got praise from my mother and I also feared gaining weight as a means of disappointing her, I also lacked an appetitive due to sexual abuse from my farther; dissociated from my body. I can’t register hunger because in a way I’m being treated like an object to consume, so I don’t register my own needs/starved myself as a coping mechanism.) eating food was truly an act of rebellion and I was abused by my own mother and encouraged to vomit once I sought therapy and a dietitian for help. She would literally tell me doctors are wrong and that I’m too heavy :) :)

Those who suffer from anorexia or bulimia, generally have trauma in general from being dehumanized and toxic guilt and shame. Guilt and shame like “I don’t deserve this.” Even food….

Like one of the things is women aren’t even suppose to like food. That’s what really irks me.. (Ofc Eve’s first sin was eating…)

I’ve had men try and neg me with shit like (basically covertly calling me fat, but really insidious shit, and when I was allowing men to abuse me as a form of self abuse,) by asking me if I liked food. Are women not suppose to like food? Wtf? I am so glad I was in a better space/ realized I needed to start loving myself and thought “damn right I love food why should I feel bad about that?” Reminded myself to eat more veggies so my pain meds will work when my period starts, because food is medicine. It’s also meant to be enjoyed.

Like nothing has helped me recover and heal other than feminism.

Maybe have radical discussions with her as a means of conversation that aren’t about her. (I hate to say it but like most therapists suck… I’ve had so many traumatize me. Nothing taught me I was enough and worthy than radical feminist and regular women…) what I mean is just conversations about how women are treated and deserve better. At least let her know where you stand/you’re a safe person.

Compliment and notice things about her that aren’t about her appearance. Check in with her and ask how she’s feeling.

It’s always deeper than just food. It’s a relationship with food and the self.

There’s this YouTube channel I find super helpful, “Stacy hooch” . And she has a video called “when self sabotogize is really energetic bulimia” (she’s a therapist who has talked about her journal with healing from bulimia,) and I found it so validating with the emotional aspect of the discomfort with feeling full. “I can’t have this, I can’t keep this” and purging it up… it explains the complexity so well. She relates her bulimia with self sabotogize. I found the video so helpful! If you ever want to check it out I hugely recommend it. (Who whole channel for me personal has been therapeutic… I’ve had to dump so many therapists/so many therapists have projected misogyny and even commented on my weight and appearance … this is why female solidarity is so important… women just need folks who “get it.” Just be the person who gets it.) we can only save ourselves but knowing you have someone who cares is HUGE. Having support from women has been life saving for me. I wouldn’t have recovered if it weren’t for feminism and support, the recovery I did on my own, but it’s nice to have someone be there through the journey.

Thank you so much for sharing, anon. 💜

#ask

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deadratinhotcar · 4 months

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The dumb fuck who is claiming they need to go to the mental hospital just said they don’t like therapy and it doesn’t work….. that is literally all the mental hospital is pretty much all day plus getting meds

They keep finding excuses to not go to the clinic or a psych

This bitch really just wants uwu mentally ill points for going to the hospital even tho they p much said it wouldn’t work lmao

Get your ass pats and get traumatized by the genuinely sick people there. I fucking dare you. The food will be shit. The therapy will go on for hours. The group therapy will probably not work since you said therapy doesn’t do shit. Eat your meds they most likely just threw at you. Sure. Have fun lmao. There is a fucking reason why so many of us have avoided psych wards like the plague. There’s also the fact that I can’t afford a week without working and it would genuinely probably make my life worse.

Most people who aren’t just looking to have some extra mentally ill internet points are going to avoid the fuck out of that place. The others who really need it, it’s the last fucking option or because of a 5150 or even a 5250. People who are genuinely on the edge of everything.

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scarsmood · 1 year

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may i ask why you support endogenic systems? genuinely curious on your thoughts on it.

Tldr; they’re cool. Idm. The rest of this devolves into me bursting into flames. So popcorn is recommended.

They fuck, putting on my little shit glasses. Here’s what I can say diagnostic criteria as someone with diagnosed DID is kinda fucking awful. Our system for people with mental illnesses isn’t comprehensive, it isn’t all knowing, we also don’t account for so much shit it’s scary.

I have so many endogenic friends. I can’t give a fuck. Their existence doesn’t effect mine. Language is a different story something I see a lot. My only ask is that an endogenic system doesnt claim they fully understand a DID system which ive seen in syscourse. That’s just not gonna happen similar to lived experiences issues. Their different experiences and thats fine.

I think tolerance is a better word for me. Because i am system aggressive and it doesnt discriminate. You put me near other systems because of previous abuse from other traumagenic systems im prone to lash out. I just can’t conntect well like I used to.

So i tolerate all of you. Equally. I don’t see a reason to discriminate. I’ve seen some abuse on both ends and don’t think its a systematic issue rather a individuals are assholes problem.

Honestly? Seems more like a huge distraction to have a little war this way to distract from the rampant abuse all systems face. We should all agree its bullshit theres no accommodations, systems aren’t prevalent in academics yet. Thats a bigger issue. If you wanna spend time helping people with say DID or accomodations related to their plurality id take a dip into academic papers and see how bad it really is.

Let’s set the stage and remind ourselves.

In 2010 it was okay to force integrate systems

In the early 2000’s and 90’s endogenics and traumagenic systems didnt have much of any significant voice in medical settings. Typically treated as schitzophrenia for BOTH.

In the 1980’s it was okay and normal to overdose a paitent with DID and kill them. Then claim it was an alter.

When i see people fight over endogenic systems. I want to scream st them thats not the point. When I was being told by my first therapist to be very careful as a 14 year old because its a very real fear i will be experimented on without my consent.

I wonder why the FUCK endogenics are even on peoples radar. When I do intensive EMDR for years that cost me thousands of dollars out of pocket. I work fulltime jobs JUST to go to therapy.

This blog is my fun haha blog where I go to disconnect. Tomorrow im waking up at 7am to drive for intensive therapy getting myself in debt and picking up new meds for my DID.

Nothing about plurality is even remotely safe yet. Not safe enough to bicker about why endos should stay in their lane. We have a common enemy. Endogenic systems have so much information to. They know how to communicate without dissociation. I envy thag because DID costs me past 7k its a car at this point. Probably more.

Why would i not support someone whose got their shit figured out? I respect the hell out of that. I just don’t see why their an issue. Not when I have to listen to my disability officer tell me im not disabled enough. I have to argue with someone dipshit that my pain isn’t farfetched and I will experience very real consequences without accommodations.

I love playing the victim though. Traumagenic systems are noteably more unstable than endogenic systems. We are literally disordered. Im system aggressive because i cannot stand to see functionality in other systems. Ive watched traumagenic systems tear into endogenics, raid their spaces and spew hate in the name of ???

Happens on both sides. Like i said but its easier to pretend were the victims. Im just very tired of going through therapy, life, and social interactions at a disadvantage. Endogenic systems remind me theres people like me who are a little different who maybe arent as fucked. I think thats cool. Because its hard for me to tell if im gonna make it or not. I like the inspiration.

You caught me at a bad time anon ask me again after im done with some of the hardest choices ive had to make in my life

#rant #tw

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