#I have too much fun with the crack modes because my mental health is real low lately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kunimikat · 3 years

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hi! i'm having a hard time mentally lately and i recently found out that i kind of erm,,,,, when my mental health is really bad my brain is like "no!😀" and skyrockets me into absolute baby mode and just want cuddles and love and i feel really lonely and don't talk a lot. bokuto is my comfort character so if you woudlnt mind could you do some headcanons or whatever you want- about him helping? feel free to ignore this i know it's a bit strange💔 but i thought i'd throw it out there :) 💞

I really hope it gets better for you, I hope my shitty HCs somehow makes your day a little better. Lots of love 🥺🤲❤️oh and this might’ve come off more angsty but I promise I put fluff at the end. And listen to this while reading cause it just makes this- 💔🦟🦗🦟🦗❤️

Requests are open! And if you have requests like this I’m happy to do them :)

Also proof read but still might be mistakes.sorry, there might be some triggering things in here, but there is nothing crazy so I think it’s ok 🧍

Before you guys even got together he’d always check up on you.

To the point were he subconsciously did it anywhere, and anytime

He’d give you small owl knickknacks or a snack before school started, or when it ended. Making sure you ate something that day.

Or he’d just try to make you laugh as much as he could during then

But sometimes he’d drop everything, and just give you a tight hug. Anywhere, no matter who it was in front of. Holding you close to him, not saying anything but you could hear him tripping over the words he wanted to say but just couldn’t.

He could tell it was a bad day where you’d come in and just sit on the benches or bleachers with both in mind but staring at the bright fluorescent gym lights. Where you’d just zone out mid-conversation and look at your feet or phone in disinterest. When you’d throw in a sarcastic self-deprecation joke when someone would ask if you’re ok.

Or when you’d have days where you’d stay up studying, doing your homework, and not sleeping for who knows how long when you come in with the energy drink in hand. Or the days when you’d get nothing done, and just sleep everything away and just deal with it the next day.

It didn’t take a therapist or a mastermind to tell you weren’t ok.

The nervous tics, the small lip bites, the impulsive “Let’s do something and think about consequences later!”

Bokuto knew he was just like the latter but at least it wasn’t all the time, so when he saw his bestfriend and crush slowly killing themselves mentally (and maybe physically, he was hoping not), yet cracking jokes about it the next second. All he wanted to do was run in and kiss you until all you felt was loved.

He just wanted to see you happy again

He felt like fainting everytime he saw you giggle or laugh at his antics(knowing Bokuto that has probably happened)

Or when you and Ahgkaaashi would hang out with him at the Owl section of the Zoo and pick out your favorite ones

When you two would try cooking some dish either of you couldn even try pronouncing and it ending in a mess. One he didn’t mind cleaning up when he got to talk to you throughout the whole time.

The times you’d have to turn in your work a little late because you were helping Bokuto cope after losing a game, which he felt bad about but you brushed it off with a genuine smile saying “I can’t leave poor Akaashi with Bokuemo for the rest of the week can I?” “H-Hey!”

When you and Bokuto would hang out in the bird themed cafe on the end of the street from school. And just be yourselves without having to impress anyone.

How you excuse yourself from the group of people you barely knew the names of, to go cry in the bathroom then come back as if nothing happened.

Times where you both forget your in highschool with insecurities, voice cracks, stress, and having to make a decision regarding the rest of your life by the end of it. And just laying in some random parking lot, staring into the blaring street lamp light and the stars behind it.

Bokuto loved it when you didn’t use the jokes to cover up how you felt. Or how you jumped to another subject when he would ask. When you tell him everything you’re feeling.,

The confusion, the way you didn’t know why your mind worked the way it did and why you felt horrible all of a sudden but fine the next.

You wanted it to stop, to have an explanation for the way you think and why. Yet now you’re telling no one, and clearly holding it in. Bokuto was now watching you letyour emotions eat you alive from the inside out.

He just wanted the you he knew. The you that he had so many fun memories with. Not the forced persona you played when you needed a cover up for how you truly felt.

This wasn’t the way he wanted to confess but it was getting all too much for Bokuto to watch,

Bokuto’s tears were streaming down his face as he had you held out in front of him. His body was trembling and his grasp was so shaky it was easy to break away. But you knew you could ever do that to him, or yourself. He clenched his jaw , not being able to lock eyes with you, a painful tug at his heart everytime he locked eyes with your hopeless look. You felt tears brimming your eyes yet you didn’t even know why he sat you down here. But you felt it was your fault, so immediately you let out a ‘Sorry-‘

Instead of an answer Bokuto pulled you toward him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. You let out a choked noise as surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Why...why’re you saying sorry Y/N? I should be saying sorry for not helping you, I-“

Bokuto lost his breath for a second as a silent sob wracked his body, bringing you closer to him. Tears were falling down from your eyes but you could barely feel them as they became a stream.

“Y/N, I love you, I love you so, so much. Why are you doing this to yourself? You know you could come talk to me, I-I’m not the the best therapist but,-“

He let out a shaky breath, pulling you back out to look at you directly. You squeezed his arm that was holding you, reassuring him you felt the same way, but also to go on. Puffy eyes and a tear stained face looked at you sternly. “Please, please don’t keep these feelings to yourself Y/N. It hurts, it hurts me so much when I see you like this. Especially since you feel like you can’t come to me. I-, I-“

Bokuto bit his lip, clenching his eyes tight, forcing the tears that were already threatening to fall out. “I don’t want to see you like this. I love you, I love you.”The only thing lacing his tone is the sincerity in it.

He says it again to make sure you understood every word that came from him. But he didn’t need to. His grip so tight on your arms it almost hurt. But in a way, you didn’t mind it as it showed you how much more serious this was to him.

“You have me, Kaashi, the team, and honestly anyone! We all love you and what you have to say!”

You both give small shaky laughs, despite the situation, the tension slowly melting. He wipes the tears that were flowing down your cheeks, kissing each one after he did. You held each one of his hand. Squeezing them to give yourself courage, and to know this was all too real.

“Bokuto...I’m so sorry to you and everyone else. I- I locked myself away because I thought I would be bothering you and everyone and could just get over it then push the feelings down. But now seeing you...seeing you so much...pain, someone I love hurt because of me. I...I really realize how I was affecting everyone.”

Bokuto tried denying but you shook your head, your eyes that were looking down were now up at him.

“I’ve come to reality especially after seeing you like this Bo, I love you too, and I want to make it up to you this whole week! No, month...year? Whatever. I’ll be better for our future. And you know what, why don’t I help you with that math homework so we’re both gonna get better at something by the end of the week!”

Laugher filled the once cold room with a feeling of warmth that you couldn’t explain. Bokuto leaned in and gave a small peck. You were about to give a small hum in happiness. Until he pulled far back away from you in panic.

“I-Is something wrong Bo? Does my breath stink-“

“N-NONONO NOTHING LIKE THAT. ITS JUST...I just kissed you without asking...a-and I read in a magazine you’re supposed to do that or your crush won’t like you back!”

Silence.

But you interrupted it with your laughter, holding onto to one of his shoulders to not fall over. He had a confused look on his face as he fidgeted, not knowing what to do. “Y-Y/N! What?”

“You’re so stupid Bo,”

And like that you pulled him into a kiss, one he quickly melted into. He made a small surprised noise, but that was the only noise of complaint. The kiss turned into Bokuto giving you pecks all over your face. A giddy feeling in your stomach with each one. Between the kisses you say “Y’know I’m surprised you decided to sit down and read a magazine without testing on the real deal.” His face has a small flush, instead of saying anything he just kisses you aggressively all over, causing you to reel back and laugh harder. He pulls away from the assault and grabs your hand. He leads you over to the couch and hugs you as you both flop onto the couch. You looked at him confused, “Bo?”

But he just turned the TV on, clicked through the channels, until he found one he liked. He looked over at you excitedly, “Let’s cuddle and watch the movie I was talking about last week!”

The genuine excitement in his voice was all it took to have you wrapped around his finger. So now it was getting late and you were falling asleep to Bokuto gently rubbing his hand in circles on your back. And his faint smell of cologne luring you to sleep.

Hey! Sorry if this is on the shorter side, but I tried packing as much emotion as I could into it to make up. I hope you enjoyed this, cause I added a few of my little issues into it so I hope you don’t mind. (Also along with some people ik) I really hope it gets better for you, hopefully by now even though this came out late (sorry really busy this month for some reason🧍) if you need anyone to talk to I’m always open to hear❤️..

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thezoequinn · 7 years

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“Triggered”

Today I heard the last shitty joke in passing I can handle about my mental illness without speaking up. Not about the people making the joke, or even the joke itself, but about the illness - it’s extremely poorly understood, partially due to media presentation of it, and partly thanks to the internet hijacking the terminology of one of the symptoms and extrapolating it so far from it’s original, highly specific meaning that most people have no idea what they’re referencing.

I don’t blame anyone who doesn’t know the first thing about PTSD, because I didn’t know what PTSD was until I was diagnosed with it. Not really, anyway. I had the same pop culture version of the illness most people have - it was something soldiers had, and flashbacks were hallucinatory caricatures about as accurate as most portrayals of what taking LSD is like in pop culture - with the character and the writer equally divorced from reality.

When my doctor handed me the preliminary screening inventory sheet to fill out while I was mid-sentence during our first meeting, it seemed so obvious. So many things that I’d chocked up to having depression and going through a… significant amount of stress, but that weren’t getting better and seemed to just kind of linger unwanted in my head, ready to flare up and shit all over whatever I was doing made sense. He explained to me what flashbacks actually are, that it wasn’t simply a hallucination and more a spiral down a memory well of horrible shit you’ve gone through, of feeling like you’re mentally and emotionally “unplugging” in response to something bringing all that up, and the feeling that everything is just as fragile and fight-or-flight as it was when you were actually in danger. He explained that the most common sufferers of PTSD aren’t soldiers, but survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault, and were more often women than men. He even explained the changes to my body that had occurred, that the acrid, metallic taste that would pop up in the back of my throat was *adrenaline* - that I was physically tasting the flood of “oh shit” that my brain was producing because parts of my body had a hair trigger for locking into survival mode.

I scored a 73 out of 100 on the inventory, and later my doctor would categorize my ptsd as “severe”, but told me with trauma-specific treatment I could hope to see that number lower into the teens. It’s been over a year since then and it’s taken *so much work*, but he was right. I’m a lot better than I was several years ago, especially before I knew what the hell was going on with me.

I’m a comedian and can find so much to joke about in my mental illness. When my doctor added a C for “complex” onto the PTSD I felt that combined with my ADHD, I had started collecting an alphabet. My doctor laughed when he prescribed me the medication that would take my extremely vivid, constant nightmares away and told me that it would also take my regular dreams with it, and I responded with “I’m sorry doctor I’m an artist you can’t just phrase things that way without spawning a million insufferable conceptual pieces”. Anything can be joked about - being a dick about it is more related to how you do it.

I make jokes because comedy can take the sting out of having a nasty knot of pain lodged inside my skull that my ex planted there when I took away his ability to hurt me himself. If I didn’t have the jokes, all I’d have is the anger and violation I feel at being someone who can go from joking with friends in a UPS store to a crying mess because someone grabbed my arm and spoke to me in the same place, the same way, as that ex the last time I saw him, before I had a friend stay with me for a while because I was so afraid he’d come back. I hate that I’m like this, and that even with all the work I put in and the therapy I do, there are still these little, extremely specific things that cause that familiar ember in my brain to ignite and immediately need to be dealt with. It’s a nightmare to feel like there’s any part of you that seems so frail where it was once strong, to be someone who has to be tough enough to put up with an enormous amount of shit but still have these things out there that can immediately pierce any armor you have, like the shittiest version of magic words. The sheer irrationality and the sense of lost control is such a deep and frustrating violation, it’s hard to write about without seeming too melodramatic.

There aren’t many things that will send me down that rabbit hole anymore, or make me taste adrenaline and feel the same fear that everything I have is about to be destroyed again. But they exist. They’re extremely specific, innocuous to everyone else but poison to my peace of mind. I’ve calloused over a lot of the minor ones, but there are two or three big ones that feel like a crack across my skull and immediately knock me on my ass seemingly no matter what I do.

You’d think the specificity of these things would make them easy to avoid or to tell people in my life about, but it’s kind of the opposite. I largely don’t bother, because the language around it has been so completely and utterly demolished and politicized in a way that makes it nearly impossible for me to use in a productive way without having to take on the additional, exhausting work of explaining my illness to people.

I’m talking about “triggers”. It used to be that only anime nazi assholes used it as a joke, but then “trigger warnings” became a cultural battlefield over imaginary “political correctness” and a ton of other shit I don’t remotely want to get into. I don’t want to talk about other peoples’ experiences when it comes to triggers, and I know triggers aren’t limited to PTSD - but speaking for myself, as the Discourse evolved, I felt completely left behind. My mental illness doesn’t have any political affiliation, it just exists. Now I see obnoxious “trigger” jokes just about everywhere, even people who are just parroting a “meme” 20 steps removed from the anime nazi assholes who send me the corresponding Junkrat UI image along with their misguided efforts to actually trigger me. It’s to the point where even nice people say shitty things without realizing it.

And that fucking sucks, man. Having a very real aspect of your mental health made into a meme and a joke that has seemingly worked its way into nerd culture at large helps make it feel impossible to actually talk about my mental health, especially when it’s an illness that pop culture constantly misrepresents. The last thing anyone needs when they’re trying to speak up and identify something to someone as being bad for them is to be made fun of. It’s like showing someone a knife in your back and asking them to pull it out for you, only to have them kick it a little to see if it’s real or not first.

Hearing “triggered” jokes is grating and tiresome, especially since bringing up what being triggered actually feels like makes you a huge no-fun killjoy (not to mention the inevitable backlash of people with underdeveloped empathy glands actively trying to trigger me after saying this), but here we are all the same. If it sounds annoying, trust me, I am *way* more annoyed that I have a mental illness than you are. I’m tired. I want to be able to explain to people what is going on with me without the baggage of other people misusing a word for cheap jokes with hidden costs, simply so I don’t have to do all the heavy lifting of educating people just so I can get them to understand that a specific thing messes with me. I’m not about to tell anyone what to say, and I largely feel that plenty of otherwise well-meaning people legitimately just don’t know any better (I know the people who want to continue being little shits will continue to be little shits, water is wet, don’t @ me about it). I want you, dear reader, to know all this so you know what you’re actually making fun of.

I want you to know all this so you know why I’m not laughing with you - it’s because you’re laughing at me.

(in b4 bland peepants hacks respond with lazy “triggered” jokes)

#ptsd #mental health #triggers #trigger warnings

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