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00katrinka00 · 10 days

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Landcaster Legacy Gen 7 Update #57

Dear Diary, I'm glad Lacy is back, my mom set up a therapy appointment for her today. I think it will be good for her to talk to someone. Meanwhile, I have a shift at the boba shop that I'm not looking forward to, but afterwards Sage and I have a date so that'll be fun. -Violet

"Alright, Lacy, why don't you start by telling me a bit about yourself," began Dr. James. "What do you care?" "I care, because I want to help you work through all the hard feelings you have right now. In order to do that I need to know a bit about you first." "This is bullshit."

"Please, how would you know what's going to help me?" "I am a licensed therapist," Dr. James reminded her. "My life is so complicated, you wouldn't know what to do with it," Lacy rolled her eyes. "I did get a degree in 'it's complicated'" Dr. James joked. "So, try me?"

"Violet," called Tiffany, her manager. "I want to introduce you to someone. This is Claudia." "H-hi," Claudia said. "She's a bit shy, but since Owen is off to college, I've hired her to be his replacement. I need you to train her today." "Do I get paid more for training?"

"I mean can you even believe that she just runs away in the middle of the night. It was so irresponsible of her," Violet ranted. "Ummm," Claudia was at a loss for words. "She was gone for a week, a WEEK, and we didn't hear anything. My mom got the police involved."

"So, um, how do I use the boba machine?" Claudia quietly asked. She wanted to get Violet back on track. "You aren't going to tell me how annoying I'm being? Or insult me for being self-centered and only talking about myself." "No?" "Owen would," Violet sighed.

"You want me to insult you?" "No, I hate Owen," Violet told Claudia. "He was so unbelievably annoying." "I'm confused, can we just go back to you teaching me how to make the drinks?" "Like he ALWAYS acted like he was better than me, oh my watcher I can't stand him."

"Honestly, him graduating and going off to college was great for me, because now I don't have to deal with him anymore." "It sounds like you miss him." "I do not!" Violet snapped. "Not at all." "But you keep talking about him." "I do not." "Okay, um, so how do I make the drinks?"

Lacy sighed, if she had to be here for the next hour why not participate. "I guess it started with my mother. She wanted me to be just like her. The expectations that she put on me were just too much. I felt suffocated living with her." "And what about your father?"

"He just went along with whatever my mother did," Lacy explained. "I don't even think they really loved each other; it seemed like marriage was more transactional for them. Have kids, carry on the legacy. They never listed to what I wanted." "I'm glad you told me all of this."

As Lacy continued to talk with Dr. James, Violet headed to the pier, after her shift ended, for her date with Sage. "Guess what!" Sage exclaimed. "What?" "I got accepted to Britechester!" "Y-you did? I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"Well yeah, I want to be a music critic, and the first step to that is studying art history at Britechester," Sage explained. "I even got into the distinguished program." "I kind of thought we'd make music together, in Del Sol Valley, at least after you ditched Janie."

"I thought we'd start our own band," Violet admitted. "Oh," Sage muttered. "Look, you're an amazing musician, you don't need me. The main reason I even joined Janie's band was because I was new and wanted to make friends. I'm not as passionate about performing as you are."

"But what about us, after graduation?" "We can still date," Sage assured her. "I mean look at your brother and Nat, they aren't letting distance ruin their relationship." "You're right." "We can visit each other on weekends, it'll be fun. Like a little vacation every week."

Both girls stood up and Sage took Violet's hands. "I promise, we'll make it work. I like you too much for us to break up." Sage kissed Violet's hands. "That's a relief," Violet laughed. "Here I thought we were on the verge of becoming just friends." "Never."

#thesims4 #thesims4gameplay #thesims4community #thesims #thesimscommunity #the sims #the sims 4 #the sims community #the sims gameplay #landcaster legacy

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helloalycia · 3 years

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worth the wait [five] // daisy johnson

summary: the longer Daisy spends with you, the more you realise that maybe nine years isn't enough time to get over her.

warning/s: mentions of PTSD.

author's note: this is the final part, but it was a little long so i’ve put it into two posts. hopefully the daisy stans appreciated it 😊

I woke with a start, immediately feeling my hair sticking to the nape of my neck and the need to shake off my duvet.

The fear of my nightmare still implanted in the pit of my stomach made me reach for my bedside lamp. I half expected someone to grab my hand in the dark, my imagination working overtime to scare the living hell out of me, but nothing happened except for the lamp turning on.

I sat up in bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. It was just a dream, nothing real. And I knew that, logically, since I was in my childhood bedroom instead of a dark torture chamber. Yet I couldn't stop crying and imagining the worst.

It was getting worse – the nightmares, the anxiety, the nausea. Ever since Daisy and my mum had told me to see a therapist, I knew it was getting worse, but I still hadn't done anything about it. Clearly, things had to change.

Barely thinking about, I found myself grabbing my phone and dialling Daisy's number. I hadn't spoken to her since she came over, and it was my fault things had been left on a bad note. That was only last week and I felt like an idiot as I heard the phone ringing.

"Hello?" her groggy voice came through, and I immediately felt bad.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I tried to silence my heavy breathing. "Hey, Daisy. It's, er, it's Y/N. I'm sorry, I– I didn't mean to wake you. I–"

"Y/N?" she asked, voice laced with fatigue and confusion. "Are you okay? What is it? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I said quickly, trying to maintain my shakiness. I brought my legs up to my chest and wrapped an arm around them tightly. "I'm at home. I just–" I flinched, closing my eyes. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? My parents gave me your number and I– I didn't know what else to do–"

"You don't need to apologise," she cut me off, wakening up a little by the sounds of it. "I'm glad you called. What's wrong?"

I smiled dryly, wiping away at my tears. "I, er, you were right about me. I should have–" I breathed out deeply. "I need to talk to someone about... yeah. But right now I... I can't go back to sleep."

"Do you want me to come over? I'm not far and–"

"No, no!" I said quickly, slightly embarrassed. "You don't need to– it's the middle of the night. I just– I don't know what I was expecting. I just didn't want to be alone and I didn't wanna wake my parents and worry them."

"Of course," she said reassuringly. "It's okay. I won't come, but I can stay on the phone with you if you'd like? We can talk. Or we can just stay silent. Anything you want."

I sniffled and put my head between my legs, feeling my shoulders relax a little. The last thing I wanted was to be a bother to her.

"Thanks," I muttered, and I wasn't even sure if she heard it. "I'm sorry for how I acted last week... with this."

"We don't need to talk about it," she said softly, her voice raspy as she'd just woken up. "I just want you to be okay."

I closed my eyes, breathing out quietly. I wasn't sure what to say, but the sound of her voice was instantly reassuring.

It was quiet between us, for at least another minute or so, and all I could hear was her breathing on the other side. As much as I appreciated the company, I knew it was unfair of me to keep her on the phone.

Swallowing hard, I said, "Daisy?"

"Yeah? Are you okay?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, knowing I wasn't. "I don't think–" I sighed awkwardly. "I won't be falling asleep any time soon and I– er, you should go. I don't want to keep you on here for no reason."

"It's not for no reason," she reassured. "I'll stay on until you fall asleep, Y/N. You'll get tired eventually."

"But if I don't–"

"I'll stay on."

I nodded, despite her being unable to see me. "Thank you..."

It went quiet again, and I felt my heart rate returning to its normal pace as I distracted myself with the sound of Daisy's breathing. It wasn't hard to tire myself to the sound, as I was already exhausted, just scared. But when I closed my eyes and let her breathing comfort me, it almost felt like she was right next to me, and my fear slowly faded away.

—

When I woke up the next morning, I was drooling on my phone screen as the sun streamed through my curtains. When I wiped my mouth, a yawn escaped my lips and I moved my phone from my pillow, confused to why it was there. But then I remembered the early hours of that morning and felt my face flush with embarrassment. I checked the screen, seeing the call wasn't still on, but there was a text from Daisy.

Daisy: hey, Y/N, I hope you feel better in the morning. I figured you wouldn't want to wake up to me on the phone, so I hung up. Please don't be angry, but I'm on my way over to see you. I just want to make sure you're okay.

That message was sent fifteen minutes ago, so I wouldn't put it past Daisy to already be outside. It was embarrassing, don't get me wrong, but I appreciated that she cared enough to check on me, even after I'd treated her disrespectfully.

I'd just managed to brush my teeth when Daisy arrived. My mum called me downstairs, claiming it was for me, and I tried not to fidget in my pyjamas as I descended the stairs and saw Daisy waiting by the front door. When she saw me, a relieved smile was on her lips.

"Hey," she began quietly, hesitant to say more in case I was mad.

I exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. She'd helped me more than she'd known, and with that thought in my mind, I moved forward and hugged her gratefully.

"Thank you," I whispered into her shoulder, closing my eyes as my arms laced around her neck.

She returned the hug and I sensed her surprise.

"Anytime, Y/N," she replied with a squeeze. "I just want you to be okay."

I nodded, lingering for a moment longer than I probably should have, before pulling away. She searched my eyes with a hint of concern and I subconsciously grabbed her hand and kept ahold of it.

"I'm gonna book an appointment with a therapist," I told her, the thought terrifying me in itself, but I knew it was the right thing to do. "And I wanted to ask if you... would you..." I swallowed hard, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Will you please come with me?"

"Of course I will," she promised, squeezing my hand and earning my attention. "I'll be with you whenever you want." She blinked, clearing her throat with realisation. "I mean, for the appointments, obviously."

Thankfully, her messy words brought a smile to my face and reassured me about the whole therapy thing.

"Thank you," I said, finding it cute how she was the one to avoid my eyes now. "Since you're here, you may as well stay for breakfast. If you're not busy, that is."

"Breakfast. Sure. I'd love to."

I didn't let go of her hand as I tugged her towards the kitchen to join me.

—

Having Daisy back in my life was probably the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

Not only had she literally saved my life as Quake, but she was also saving my life every day after. Whether it was accompanying me to my therapist appointments or hospital appointments, or hanging out with me way more than she needed to, she was more present in my life. I didn't ask her to – it only began when I'd asked her to come to my first therapist appointment – but she'd chosen to. And I didn't want to question it because I'd missed her more than I cared to admit.

My parents took her in as family like no time had passed and I was accepting her back into my life, too, but I didn't want to get too attached. She had a job to do at the end of the day, and knowing Daisy, she wouldn't stay for too long. I guess, in the back of my head, there was still that expectation of her picking up and leaving, just like she used to. Which was silly, since that was years ago, but still...

Despite her presence in my life again, we'd been avoiding talking about what we'd missed in each other's lives. The specifics anyway. I knew she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and found her family, and she knew I became an investigative journalist and did many news packages on different topics, but I didn't know anything more and neither did she. I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or if we just avoided it without thinking, but I knew we had to face the music soon.

We were getting coffee after she picked me up from one of my therapy sessions when I brought it up.

"So, my therapist has been helping me with some stuff," I began, staring at my coffee as we walked back to my house. "Stuff outside of my PTSD, that is."

"Oh?" Daisy asked, and I could see her looking at me in the corner of my eyes. "Like what?"

I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to feel embarrassed as I answered, "Well, we obviously talk about my life. And what happens in it. Who I'm with..."

"Yeah..." Daisy was grinning now.

I rolled my eyes, wishing my face wasn't as warm as it felt. "She noticed you've been dropping me off and picking me up and... you may have come up in conversation."

"Ah, so you talk about me," she said slowly, trying very hard not to laugh. "Did you tell her how amazing I am? Or how beautiful, charming and funny I am?"

I sighed, finally lifting my eyes to look at her. Brown eyes twinkled with amusement as she gave me her usual teasing smile, making me shove her in the shoulder gently. Laughter spilled from her lips and I hated the butterflies in my stomach at the sound.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, falling into step with me again. "You were saying. Go on."

Looking back ahead as we walked, I said, "Yes, well, we talked about you. And then she recommended that I try to catch up with you more. You know? Because we both talk so much about the good old days and even now, but not the in between. Not the parts that we weren't there for."

I looked back to Daisy when I finished, and she thankfully lost her amusement as she nodded in agreement. I half expected her to take the piss, but she was supportive as she glanced at me.

"I like the sound of that," she said, easing the nerves in my stomach. "So. What do you want to know?"

I cleared my throat, taking another sip of my drink and thinking of where to start. "Okay, erm... why don't we start with your S.H.I.E.L.D. friends? They're your family and I would love to get to know them better. What are they like?"

She nodded thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. "S.H.I.E.L.D., okay. Well, you met Jemma. She's basically my sister. Her and Fitz – I think I mentioned him before?" I nodded, recalling her throwing in the name in one of her stories. "They're together and they've been with me since I was recruited a few years ago. We've been through a lot together, but they've got my backs and I've got theirs."

I smiled at the carefree expression on her face. Just talking about them put her at ease and I felt a little better knowing that her time after high school wasn't completely terrible like I imagined.

"Then there's Coulson, of course," she continued, glancing at me every now and then to see if I was listening. "He's basically our dad. He's the reason I'm even with S.H.I.E.L.D. and he's always looking out for me, even when I'm doing stupid stuff."

"So, regularly then."

She nudged me in the arm at my comment, making me chuckle.

"He was how I learnt about my family," she explained. "There for me when I found them. When I got my powers. When I lost my family... he's been there through it all. I'd do anything for him."

I watched her carefully. "He sounds important to you."

Her lips curved into a small smile as brown eyes met mine. "He is."

She continued to tell me about the rest of her team and what everything was like at work, and the whole time she did, she was smiling.

"I'd love for you to meet them all," she finished, and I was surprised at the hint of nervousness in her voice. I didn't think she ever got nervous. "I mean, you've met Jemma, but the others– you should meet them, too. If you want to, that is."

"I'd like that," I said instantly, appreciating the way her eyes lit up and she tried very hard to hide her smile.

She cleared her throat, distracting from the pink spreading on her face, before asking, "So, you basically know about everything interesting that's happened to me these past nine or so years. What about you? Anything life-changing occur for you?" I opened my mouth to answer, and she added, "Apart from travelling around the world and being an investigative journalist?"

I feigned offence. "I hardly think that's fair. That's like me asking you not to talk about working for S.H.I.E.L.D. or being Quake."

Rolling her eyes playfully, she said, "Go on. Tell me something different."

I looked away from her in thought, thinking back to the past nine years. "I guess... oh, I know. I was almost married."

Her jaw dropped. "You were what?"

A laugh escaped my lips at her intrigued expression. She shook her head with disbelief.

"I have to know more," she insisted, before raising her brows. "You? Almost married?"

"It does sound strange," I agreed with amusement, before recalling the event. "It was about two years ago. I was with this guy who worked at the same paper I did. We'd been together for about a year and–"

"–and you realised he had a second family in the Bahamas?" she finished with a roguish grin.

"Very funny." I narrowed my eyes jokingly. "But no. I just realised I didn't love him. Well, I wasn't in love with him."

"Ouch."

"Ouch indeed." I paused, remembering the poor guy's face when I broke the news to him. "It was a month into the engagement when I told him the truth. He was very understanding, but–"

"–but you broke his poor little heart," she concluded, before wrapping an arm around my shoulder and tugging me closer. "Dear Y/N. The heartbreaker."

"Fuck off."

She laughed when she saw me attempting to fight a smile from my lips. Though eventually, one appeared anyway. Daisy always had the ability to bring out the best in me like that – I'd missed it.

"How about you anyway?" I asked, hoping for an opportunity to tease her in return. "Any boyfriends or girlfriends I should know about? Crazy exes, maybe?"

She snorted, swallowing her coffee before giving me a knowing look. "You're gonna need to brace yourself for this one. I doubt you'll believe me when it comes to this."

I rose an eyebrow with curiosity. "Damn, you've got me hooked, Johnson. Proceed."

And of course, that was the first and last time I heard about Agent Grant Ward. An interestingly dark tale of a dickhead of a man whose existence I was glad was no more.

"...so, do I win?" Daisy asked once she finished talking about him.

"Win what?"

She stared like it was obvious. "The best ex story, duh!"

"Wow." I snickered, shaking my head. "I guess you do."

Fist-pumping like an idiot, she said, "Knew it. Nothing ever beats homicidal psychopath almost-boyfriend."

"You need help."

"No, no I don't. I have you."

"Uh-huh."

"Love you, too."

—

Three months passed since returning from Myanmar and I was finally in a place where I could return to work. Even though I'd been putting together my research and interviews into a coherent news story at home, I hadn't physically been back to the newsroom in about a year.

My therapist had been helping me to treat my PTSD, my physical therapy was helping me get back function in my shoulder and arm, and the injury itself was almost healed, though I still had to wear a cast. Everything was actually beginning to look up.

I'd even sent off the complete news series about what I'd discovered in Myanmar to my editor which got published just before I returned to work. So, of course, as soon as I got there, that was the first thing everybody congratulated me on.

"Views have been going through the roof," Taylor, my colleague and closest friend at work, said as soon as he spotted me walking to my desk. "Your story is all anybody has been talking about!"

"Good to see you, too," I joked, an attempt to disguise my embarrassment at all the attention. "It's only been a year since we last saw each other."

He gave me a grin. "You know I missed you, Y/L/N, get over here."

I rolled my eyes playfully but accepted his hug, being careful of my shoulder. He squeezed me gently before letting go and perching himself on the edge of my desk as I took a seat. It felt strange to be back, but a good strange.

"I still can't believe you're actually here in the flesh," he said after a moment, eyeing me suspiciously. "I've been so used to quick calls and texts where I try to convince you not to do stupid stuff."

Chuckling, I shot him an appreciative smile. "You know I'm grateful for that. Even if I didn't listen."

"You not listening helped you get the best story though," he countered. "I bet you didn't expect S.H.I.E.L.D. to make the bust in the end though."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Definitely not. But I owe them a lot. They saved my life."

His expression softened. "That's another thing... thanks for not dying on me."

"You're welcome," I returned, though appreciated what he meant. "Now. Catch me up on everything I missed. Gossip an' all."

That was enough for him to pull up a seat and remind me of everything I'd missed whilst being away. We'd spoke many times whilst I was gone, but nothing quite beat a good bitching session in person.

Eventually though, our editor ended up interrupting and asked to see me in her office. I wasn't worried in the slightest, but there was still that tiny part of me that imagined the worst.

"You can stop holding your breath, y'know," Karla told me when I stopped before her desk. She seemed amused as she added, "I wanted to congratulate you on the human trafficking story."

Relaxing my shoulders, I raised my brows. "Oh. I– thank you. I'm glad you liked it."

"You put a lot on the line to get the results you did, but it shows," she continued proudly. "You've made an excellent name for yourself and done your fellow journalists proud."

"I didn't do it for that," I said politely, "but thank you. I just wanted to help those people in Myanmar the best I could."

She smiled. "And you did."

"Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. did."

"But you shared the truth, didn't you?" she reminded me. "Don't belittle this achievement."

I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet and watched as she took a seat at her desk chair.

"I heard that it was Quake who saved you back there," she said curiously. "You know, we've never actually gotten an interview with her. Nobody has."

Oh, so that's what she actually wanted.

"I thought, well, since you know her, you could get us an exclusive?" she asked.

I chewed on my lip. "Erm..."

"You don't have to," she added, noticing my reluctance. "But it could be good for everyone. The city can get to know its hero, you can get a great interview under your belt. And our paper gets all the views. What d'you say?"

I was beginning to regret putting that one quote from Daisy in my article now... I should have known Karla would want more. That was the thing with editors – you give them one taste and they want to eat the whole thing.

"I'll ask," I decided, which she seemed to love. "No harm in asking, but I can't promise anything."

Karla leaned back in her seat, nodding. "Very true. Thank you for understanding. I'll let you settle back into work now. Remember to take it easy, yeah? Don't want to lose my best journalist from overworking herself."

I smiled awkwardly as she laughed, before nodding in response and leaving her office.

It wasn't that I didn't want to interview Daisy, but I didn't want to ruin what we had by asking for a favour. Everything between us was going well, even if it was probably temporary and she'd have to leave soon. I assumed that anyway. And on top of that, I was certain I was falling in love with her again, just like I had nine years ago.

Could you blame me? It was impossible to just remain friends with her when she went through all this extra effort to make sure I was okay. Her kind, considerate, supportive self was always on my mind whether I liked it or not. A girl could dream, right?

After my first day back, Daisy picked me up outside. She insisted when she rang me at lunchtime to make sure I was okay, wanting to know everything about how my first day went. I couldn't find it in myself to say no, so I eventually found her sat on a chair in the lobby when I came downstairs after work.

#daisy johnson x you #daisy johnson #daisy johnson imagine #daisy johnson x reader #chloe bennet #quake #agents of shield #agent skye #marvel imagine #mcu

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chronicallypainful · 7 years

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What's your story? Sorry if this is too intrusive I saw you say something about curling into a ball and crying about how you have no future and then getting better?? And I'm in the same position right now so I guess I'm looking for hope

My story. I'm not sure my life (or human lives in general) fits into a neat story structure. The story of how I got the diagnosis is long and complicated, with plenty of dead ends along the way. The story of how I learned to cope is even longer. But let me try to give a summary.

I first had persistent pain as a junior in high school. I was attending a boarding school, which emphasized an academically rigorous curriculum. It was a supportive environment, where I felt strong ties to both my peers and my instructors, but the pain was still terrifying.

It started in my wrists, and I firmly believe that I had and overuse injury, probably carpal tunnel or similar. I read everything I could about those sorts of injuries, while also applying my perfectionism to ergonomics.

As the pain didn't go away and started to migrate into my elbows, I found myself in a place of conflict. On one hand, everything I was reading about overuse injuries told me to stop. Stop typing. Stop using the computer. Don't aggravate the condition. On the other hand, I was a student, and a perfectionistic one at that. I felt that I had to use the computer. I had school work to do.

In this time period, I did start investigating assistive technologies. I started using Dragon NaturallySpeaking for as much computer work as I could. (Dragon NaturallySpeaking is software that allows me to talk to my computer to write text and, to a limited degree, navigate the user interface.) However, the software did not work for mathematics and computer science. In those subjects, I was stuck with a keyboard.

I also investigated mouse alternatives and ergonomic keyboards. I tried several, including trackballs, large touchpads, and split keyboards. Some of them resulted in a slight reduction in pain, but they all still hurt.

I was willing to cause myself pain and, I thought, possibly physical harm in the name of academic work, but I could not justify that risk when it came to my hobbies. I completely stopped playing to musical instruments, playing video games, doing hobbyist computer programming, and knitting.

While all of this is going on, I am doing my best to consult medical professionals. The nurse practitioner who was my primary care physician at the time dismissed my concerns, saying I had tendinitis and telling me to take ibuprofen and ice the area daily. A few months later, I saw an orthopedist who, after ruling out any structural problems, sent me to physical therapy. In physical therapy, I did build strength, but it did not reduce my pain.

This general pattern continued for at least two years. I struggled through school, always managing to excel academically, but also always fearing that I was hurting myself with my computer use. I continued to use speech to text software to write papers where I could, but that software continued to be useless in mathematics and computer science. The pain continued to spread, affecting more and more of my body over time. I saw several more doctors, who continued to be useless.

When I went to college, I majored in mathematics. I thought about computer science, but my inability to type made that an unattainable goal. Nonetheless, I do love mathematics, and I do not regret that choice.

One other thing changed when I went to college; I registered with disability services. Overall, that office was not particularly helpful to me. But, I did now have documentation that I could take to my professors and explain that I could not write or type (much). Unlike in high school, I took the approach that I wasn't going to cause myself unnecessary pain by doing significant fine motor activities. The math department worked with me very well, and I took many oral exams and even submitted a fair bit of oral homework while an undergraduate student.

However, by my sophomore year, it was becoming clear just how much this condition was a disability when it came to my imagined future in mathematics. I could not write down my own mathematical ideas. I couldn't work out a critical computation on a chalkboard, and I also couldn't write a mathematics paper. It felt to me like all of my mathematical ideas were necessarily filtered through someone else. And that felt very confining. The best analogy I can give is that of a painter forced to "paint" only by telling an assistant what to do. She is never allowed to touch the paintbrush herself; only to give descriptions to the assistant.

There were a number of reasons why I now see that my thinking at that time was wrong, but, at that time, I felt hopeless. I have a very clear memory of myself sitting/lying on the rug in my dorm room and crying. I was in constant physical pain. I couldn't see how I had a future in mathematics, but I also couldn't see any other future for myself. I felt worthless, hopeless, and extremely angry. I rolled around on that rug, sobbing uncontrollably while also fighting the urge to punch things, to break things.

That was the point where I realized I needed help. Once I had calmed down from my hour or so of crying, the depth of my anger was a wake-up call for me. I called the counseling center at my college and set up an appointment.

And, slowly, pieces started to fall into place. I participated in group therapy, focused on cognitive behavioral therapy skill building. I learned to separate out thoughts, emotions, and actions. I learned to identify some of the thought patterns that had previously trapped me. I listened to my peers talk about their challenges, and I shared my own. I gave voice to my fears, and I no longer felt like I was facing the world alone. In short, I learned to cope.

About a year later, I finally got a diagnosis. (I'm omitting the long string of doctors and other medical professionals that led to that diagnosis. There is a list in one of my recent posts.) Central sensitization syndrome. Very similar to fibromyalgia or chronic myofascial pain syndrome. There is no cure, and there are very few effective treatments. But it did establish, once and for all, that this disease is not my fault. I didn't do this to myself by abusing my body at the keyboard; this disease is neurochemical.

About a year after my diagnosis, I found the tumblr spoonie community and started writing about my experiences. This community has meant a lot to me. It has helped me learn how to communicate, and reminded me that I'm not alone in this often confusing experience.

Over the next couple of years, I had a few more small victories. I found a good physical therapist, who I worked with for a little over a year, and we did manage to improve my pain somewhat. I finally made some progress on assistive technology for writing mathematics, and, for the first time in years, I was able to write part of my own paper. I graduated, with honors, from my college with a bachelors of science degree in mathematics. I was accepted into a well-respected graduate program, and I was granted financial support to study there.

My first semester graduate school tossed me some extra challenges in the form of extreme fatigue and sleepiness. I was falling asleep in lecture after lecture during my first semester. In February, I was diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea and began treatment with CPAP. Over the past approximately one year, I have worked with my sleep doctor to control the residual sleepiness that remained even with CPAP. It's not perfect, but I am doing much better.

More recently, I passed a major set of exams for my graduate program, and I'm starting to identify potential research topics/advisors as I move forward in my program.

It's late, and I need to go to bed. I hope what I've written is at least semi-coherent. In addition to being tired, I wrote it with speech to text software, and I haven't proofread thoroughly.

I hope this is helpful. As I reflect on my experiences, what I see is the story of how I learned to live with illness and disability, how I adapted, and how I grew. It's not easy, and it took years. And I still have to work at some of it today. I still have to remind myself that it's okay to be disabled, to reassure myself that it's okay to ask for help, and to drag my brain out of catastrophizeing thought spirals. I still have bad days, both mentally and physically, and there are still days when I want nothing more than to take a deep breath and scream at the top of my lungs. But I am grateful. I am grateful for this life. I am grateful for this opportunity to live, to experience so many wonderful things, and to hopefully have a net positive impact on the lives of the people around me. And I'm hopeful about the future. Not so much about the idea that I might one day be cured (though that would be great!), but about all of the awesome things that I am going to do as a disabled person. I'm excited for the art I will make, the math I will do, the assistive technology that I will invent, the lives I will touch with kindness and compassion. I live with constant physical pain, but I have made it to a place where I am still so amazingly grateful to be alive.

As far as I can tell, that’s reason to hope. I wish you the best.

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xseildnasterces · 4 years

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i'm a loser baby (so why don't you kill me).

Well, it’s been a while. Quite a lot has happened since I last wrote here. I guess I got bored of writing every day when nothing much was changing and the expectation I put on myself to write made me not want to, so I gave up on the daily diary entry and instead I will go back to writing when I feel like it.

Birthday:

Yep, that’s right, like many other people this year I celebrated my birthday in quarantine. Unlike many other people though, I did so alone, thousands of miles away from the people I love. However, my birthday made me feel very lucky to have such an amazing bunch of people in my life - it really, really did! I didn’t even cry on my actual birthday which is amazing considering that’s all I’ve seemed to do over the last few years. (We will ignore the bit when I did cry the night before when I received a message that said ‘happy birthday btw’. Yeah, that hit me pretty hard and I lay on my yoga mat surrounded my candles and cried away the internal pain I felt on reading that email.

Thankfully, my family and friends went out of their way to make me feel loved and special. I got all my lovely cards from my family, even K which was a surprise, O sent me a huge delivery of cupcakes from my favourite DC cafe, C sent me a bunch of UK chocolate and R sent me a super cute little care package which I loved. I felt so incredibly lucky to have people in my life that made such an effort on my birthday when they were all so far away. We all chatted all day, video called and just had a really nice time. H sent me flowers and chocolate and L even drove around and dropped off a cake they had baked for me with a candle in it! It was so cute and made me so happy. Everyone at work sent me happy birthday emails and messages, and I just felt lucky, and considering I was physically alone, I still had a wonderful day and it was so much better than I had expected. I was glad to not have FB active because it took away another way for me to feel sad when certain people didn’t wish me happy birthday. It made me realise even more who was a valid and important part of my life, and who indeed wasn’t.

Work

I am hating work right now. I have lost count of the times I have sat crying my eyes out after receiving an email, after a meeting or a phone call and wished I could find another job. I’m not the only one who has noticed that I am criticised openly more than anyone else in our team, and I feel that no matter what I do I cannot do anything right. I could go on and on. I have my APR on Monday and I have never dreaded anything more in my life. I am absolutely petrified. Cue no sleep this weekend and major anxiety all day until my meeting.

Friends

R and I are trying to video call once a week which is great. We spend so long on the phone together and just laugh our heads off for hours. It makes my day every time I see her face and we chat. Neither of us care what we look like and can be so unbelievably open about everything and anything. She is, and will forever be, my day one. J and I video call at least once a week too, he always cheers me up beyond belief and he’s great to talk to about work issues but also just general chitchat. Another person I am very lucky to have in my life. L and I talk most days on and off and it’s nice to have someone here in a similar position to me. H and I talk a lot either work related or non work related and F always comes in to say ‘hi’. She told H that she loved me the other day and if that isn’t adorable. I also have frequent email and WhatsApp chats with various people I have worked with over the years and it’s so interesting to hear how everyone is dealing with this in lot’s of different countries. (Much better than the US and UK... which comes as no surprise).

Parents

Thankfully my parents are doing okay. Luckily the UK has had some wonderful weather so they have spent a lot of time in the garden together and gone out very early for long walks together. What cuties. My dad is still working but wearing a mask and gloves every day and they have brought in some measures to ensure people are protected in at least some way. They also get their temps taken before entering the factory. My mum is still off work and my grandma is still shielding inside - which reminds me I need to write all my birthday ‘Thank You’ notes and send an especially long one to my grandma.

Sister

K is still in Bangladesh. She hates it. I hate her husband and wish she would divorce him and come home. He goes out every night to play sport or eat with his friends and when she asks to go he tells her that she is fine at home. Personally, I wouldn’t be putting up with this, and she shouldn’t be either but ‘love is love’ and she’s in love. Unfortunately. She has incredibly low self-esteem and I’m pretty sure she thinks that she would never find anyone else. She’s so young and wasting so much of her life and I just hope she doesn’t live to regret all of this as much as we all think she will.

Yoga

I have lost count of how long we have now been in quarantine but apart from one or two days at the beginning, I have done yoga every single day. I could not be prouder of myself, and what’s more I am already feeling better for it and enjoying it. I’m currently in the middle of a 30 day plan that I am following. Some days are awfully painful and I’m working muscles I don’t think have ever been worked before, and other days I am perfectly fine and can do everything that is requested. I’m excited to see my yoga practice grow, to improve my flexibility and becoming more connected with my personal well-being. (Yoga is exactly what I am going to do once I’ve posted this). I’m also doing plank before bed. So far I am only holding for a minute but I’m proud of myself for doing this each day. Plank is also part of most of my yoga flows, but I also want to build on this.

Health

IBD is a major bitch. I had an online appointment with my IBD Dr here in the US the other day and I am being scheduled for a colonoscopy over summer. I also have to have bloods taken next month and provide samples. They are trying to distinguish whether it is Crohn’s or UC because at the moment it is still diagnosed as IBD-U which means undetermined. They are currently leaning towards Crohns and that there is a good chance that my whole digestive tract is affected, so that’s pretty rubbish. In other news, from doing so much yoga I have developed a small cyst between the joint on my wrist. It’s so annoying because it is completely in the way during certain poses and causes pain. For now I have to just see how it goes. Some peoples disappear over time, but not if you are constantly using it - which I am everyday. If it gets bigger or causes me more pain then I may need to go in for hand surgery with a specialist.

Therapy

Therapy is going well. Last week though I just wasn’t in the mood. I had so much going on at work that I just didn’t want to address anything else. We spoke about work but I didn’t feel like I got anywhere or made any progress. I also realised afterwards that I avoided talking about anything else which is frustrating because I have been doing so well. I’m still finding it hard online and look forward to being able to connect again in person. A couple of weeks ago though I did have a really good session, even if I did find myself crying during it. We discussed identity and sexuality and my therapist said how much more alive and happy my body language was when I was discussing being part of the LGBTQ+ community and feeling a part of something, meeting people and taking part in events like Pride. I expressed that I was finally reaching a place where I was proud of how far I had come, and trying to be proud of who I am despite the hurdles I have overcome and still have to face. I explained how this happiness and feelings of love just became tainted with other aspects of my life and how I felt that I couldn’t celebrate that part of myself (which is my whole self) because of other things, and again these are things that I need to work on. I love that when I talk about certain people she instantly can see and understand by my body language and emotions how much they mean to be and how special they are to me, and I think it’s important to have a relationship like this with your therapist.

COVID-19

I had to add this topic, but honestly, what a mess. I can’t even express how much of a car crash the UK and US Press Briefings are each day. Trump now says the virus will just ‘go away’ without a vaccine, and the UK are talking about opening the country and putting measures in place that should have been in place two months ago when every other European country put them in place. The whole thing is a joke. People celebrating VE day yesterday make me so angry. In my whole 28 years of life, I have never heard of anyone having VE parties before, yet now, in lock down, people are doing the bloody conga down the street. What? Is this even real? Put simply, people have used it as an excuse the flaunt the rules. After the US idiots protesting over the lock down, people in the UK have now started to do the same in London. Absolute morons. I have nothing else to say on the matter.

Skin

My skin is an absolute disaster. I have no idea why, but clearly being inside does not work wonders for my skin. I am breaking out every single day with new spots and my face looks like the moon full of craters. My jaw and chin is covered in massive potholes and my head has a bump on it like I’ve just been hit with a hammer. I have zero idea what is going on but nothing seems to be helping. Is clear skin too much to ask!?

05.05.05

This week marked 15 years since J died. 15 whole years. No matter how much time has passed, thinking about that day takes me right back. I remember where I was, in which classroom, who I was sat next to, the empty seat in front of my desk where J should have been sitting, the cries from her cousin when she was told the news, and then the complete and utter shock as us, a class of 13 year old were told that they were never going to see their classmate again because they had passed away. I remember standing outside and a teacher asking if I was okay whilst I cried in the arms of a friend. I will never forget that day. I cannot believe it has been fifteen years. Fifteen years since I saw her little face and joked about wearing pigtails. It’s unbelievable really. Time is passing fast. Much faster than I think any of us realise, so we really must not take life for granted, or the people we hold so dearly in it. If right now wasn’t proving it to you, I don’t know what will... life is short, so incredibly short.

[Blog title: I'm a Loser Baby (So Why Don't You Kill Me) - Beck].

#me #personal #diary #life #life update #update #thoughts #feelings #emotions #emotion #thought #feeling #journal #I'm a Loser Baby (So Why Don't You Kill Me)#beck

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