#This is the worst I’ve felt mentally in years I think. I genuinely feel hopeless | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelightofthingshopedfor · 3 years

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I genuinely do not know how to engage with the Loki fandom anymore without regularly tanking my mental health, and I have no idea what to do about it.

the thing about my brain is that it sucks, see, and one of the big ways in which it sucks is that it is incredibly easy for me to miserably fixate on anything that upsets me, which then often expands to include all kinds of other tangentially related things that also upset me, thereby becoming a very bad spiral even if the thing that originally upset me was objectively not a huge deal. (I’m also really, really good at catastrophizing, which just accelerates the whole process.) at best, I then find it completely possible to do much of anything, like work on anything creative, or do my actual job that pays my actual bills, or in general remember that anything good can ever happen again. about all I can do to reset my brain when that happens is to ignore every single one of my responsibilities and do something really distracting like playing a game so my brain is engaged in something other than eating itself alive, or maybe just take a sleeping pill and go to bed. (if neither is an option, then it just sucks even more.)

for reasons that I certainly hope are obvious, that’s something I prefer to avoid.

the thing about Loki is, he’s been my absolute favorite character for about a decade now. he’s my comfort character. I can’t reliably write anything except Loki fic (which would be enough of a personal investment even if I hadn’t written a fic or two that helped me deal with the death of my dog a few years ago and my generally unhealthy feelings about death as a concept, but I did that too). I’ve spent a not-inconsiderable amount of money--again, over the past decade--on my collection of Loki stuff because it makes me happy, and I’ve invested probably even more thought and emotion than money into this character. Loki, in general, is very important to me, if for no other reason than that he’s been part of my life for a long time.

and the thing about the Loki show specifically is, I mostly like it. in part this is because I want to like it, because I’m invested for all the reasons mentioned above. there have been aspects of every episode so far that I’ve enjoyed without reservation or qualification...and there have been aspects of every episode so far that have made me cringe or genuinely upset me for one reason or another. but because I want to like it, and because I have that tendency to fixate on things that upset me in a way that makes me absolutely miserable and renders my brain completely useless for doing anything except continuing to be upset, it is genuinely unhealthy for me to spend much time at all reading negativity about the show.

some of the criticism I don’t totally understand and that’s less of an issue, but a lot of it has merit, a lot pretty obviously comes from a place of actual pain, and there’s a lot I agree with (or at least understand even if a specific thing doesn’t bother me as much). so if I read much of it, I will fixate. I will lose sleep. I will be pretty much unable to do things I actually need or want to do. if I want to avoid those things, it’s not enough just to avoid reading really intense criticism of the show; I have to actively seek out positive opinions, both to reinforce my enjoyment of things I already liked and to provide additional viewpoints on things I didn’t particularly like on first watch so I can keep myself from fixating on them (which my brain is quite happy to do on its own, without even seeing specifically negative posts, so you can probably imagine how much worse my brain gets having the negative opinions reinforced).

like--maybe this all sounds kind of silly, I don’t know, but I’ve lived with this garbage brain for more than three decades and I have a pretty good idea of how it works, at least in terms of what makes it even more garbage. to take care of my mental health, I have to approach certain things in certain ways, and I’m...working on not feeling like that’s silly all by itself. in this specific case, that means avoiding a lot of the negativity and making an effort to seek out positive opinions. as long as people tag appropriately, that shouldn’t be hard, right?

well you’d think so, except actually no, because I’ve had the worst time finding people who like the show and don’t also spend a significant amount of their time dumping on fans who hate the show or just, like, have any issues at all with any aspect of it for any reason. it starts to feel like people think that if you’re not worshiping at Marvel’s feet and loving every second of everything in this massive profit-driven franchise, then you are deluded, whiny, entitled, stupid, sadistic, or some combination of the above. and you know what, maybe it’s weird but I absolutely find that just as upsetting as negativity about the show itself. constantly seeing that stuff is equally bad for my mental health, equally likely to make me miserably fixate on it and lead to a spiral of “everything is bad and hopeless and nothing will ever get better in literally any aspect of life so why even bother trying?”

for reasons that I once again hope are obvious, I still want to avoid that! regardless of the cause! and apparently...I don’t have that option. people typically don’t tag criticism of criticism, or at least not with anything specific enough to be really useful, and it sure seems like I can’t look for the positive opinions that help me enjoy the show and avoid unhappily fixating on things I didn’t like, while also avoiding the negative opinions about other fans that also get me unhappily fixated on things that upset me. so the only alternative is, what, take several steps back from fandom entirely? well, I’d have to stop using Tumblr at all for at least a couple weeks, probably avoid the finale for quite a while, stop writing for the most part because Loki fic is too tied up in the overall fandom and I struggle too much with writing anything else, stop reading most fic for the same reason, stop working on customizing any Funko figures or other action figures that aren’t just for Etsy, and generally give up a lot of things that make me happy. weirdly enough, I don’t want to do that either.

if everyone in this fandom 1) tagged appropriately and consistently and 2) stopped being unnecessarily mean to and about their fellow human beings, I’m pretty sure it would be basically fine. and of course there’s no possible way I can make that happen. if I want to keep enjoying something that does genuinely make me happy often enough to be worthwhile to me, it seems like I just have to choose between two different types of mental-health minefields rather than, you know, being able to avoid all the mines.

so what am I supposed to do with that?

(this is...more or less okay to reblog if you’ve felt at all the same way, wherever you might fall in your opinions about the show itself, as long as you make sure to not be an asshole about it to anyone. this is not the place to talk about how much you hate the show, and it is also not the place to talk about how awful Those Whiny Fans are. take that somewhere else and for god’s sake put a useful tag on it.)

#loki #loki show #loki series #marvel cinematic universe #brains behaving badly #mental health issues #I don't know what else to tag this #loki spoilers #not really but just in case #really hope I don't regret posting this

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abcsofadhd · 3 years

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I’m sorry this is way too long and too depressing, I ended up venting because I don’t have anyone to talk to about this. If you see this ask, feel free to ignore, you don’t need to publish all of it or any of it. My question is at the very end.

I was recently diagnosed about 3 months ago and started meds with the sole, singular hope that I would be able to start tasks. that’s it. no other symptom I have matters to me, i just want to be able to start the tasks I want to start when I want to start them. I’ll accept any shitty side effect if it means I can actually do the work I need to do. I’m so fucking desperate to be able to get my work done, my entire workflow was absolutely destroyed and every coping mechanism I ever adopted rendered totally useless by COVID. My inability to work, meet deadlines, and follow through on promises has been ruining my life since March.

I was tentatively excited (among other weird complex feelings) when I got my diagnosis because I’d hoped that meds would be a solution. I’d read peoples accounts of how all the tasks that were hard for them suddenly became so easy, and I was so hopeful that maybe I didn’t have to be like this forever.

But it’s been three months now, and I’ve been through several stimulants at various dosages, and none of them have done literally anything. I haven’t felt the calm people talk about, I haven’t felt anything at all, and I certainly haven’t seen any increase in productivity at any point. The stimulants I’ve tried either have super inconsistent benefits, or they have no beneficial effect at all at any dose my GP is willing to prescribe.

One of the meds actively hurt my productivity because not only did it give me fucking nothing, I spent two weeks (until I gave up on it and we moved to the next one) coming home utterly exhausted and lightheaded with a headache and laying in the dark at 5pm refreshing twitter for hours and feeling helpless and shitty about how much work I wasn’t doing. That med was the worst one, the rest mostly did nothing except make me not hungry. The most effective one so far increased the frequency that I had hyperfocus, which was better than increasing fuck all, but I still couldn’t choose what to hyperfocus on or switch tasks, so it still didn’t give me the one and only thing I need. And for some reason it stopped even giving me that at higher doses?

And I guess at this point I’ve just lost hope that meds will ever be effective for me. I know it hasn’t been that long, 3 months is basically nothing, I’ve read this can take years. And there’s still other meds to try, and if the next one doesn’t work my GP will refer me to a psychiatrist who might be willing to try higher doses. But in the meantime I’ve continued to not be able to work and faced the professional consequences, and it’s been so humiliating and frustrating and hopeless. It’s like I’m waiting for a miracle to occur, and my life is on hold until it happens. I keep getting angry at random posts that share their success stories and talk about how different it is when you start meds, because that’s exactly what got my hopes up. I feel so helpless.

It’s just so demoralizing that I’ve spent my entire fucking life until 3 months ago assuming that I don’t have it any different from anyone else, so if I was struggling, it must just be because I’m lazy and stupid and worthless. And I just accepted that that’s how I am and I can’t change it, so I was able to make my peace with it and find ways around it. But now, I find out that maybe I wasn’t ever lazy and stupid, and there’s a solution that’s supposed to fix me. And now I can’t go back to just accepting that I’m like this forever, I want that solution to work so badly. But the solution isn’t working, nothing’s different. It’s supposed to be different and it’s not. So I’m still just as worthless as I always was and might still be forever. The status quo remains unchanged except for the fact that I don’t know how to accept it anymore.

If meds just don’t work for me at all, then that means I’m just stuck like this forever, and like. That means I should probably stop wasting my time and everyone’s time and drop out of grad school. If meds cant get me to start necessary, important, time sensitive work, then I will not be able to complete this program and I definitely would not be successful in the competitive career I’ve worked towards. I don’t know.

I’m sorry for venting, I’m sorry this was depressing. The question I wanted to ask is, is there a good way to tell that meds won’t work for you? Is it supposed to feel like something, or not feel like something? Do you think there’s a point when it’s not really worth it to continue trying meds and upping dosages? Thanks, sorry again.

Hey, no need to apologize. Genuinely.

See, finding the right meds and right dosage takes time. I had to try 3-4 meds at 5 or so different strengths till I settled on one that worked for me.

Everyone ticks differently. So different meds can work differently with people.

⠀

How I figure out the effectivity of meds is how easy it makes it for me to shower. Its usually such an effort for me, usually taking up to an hour of psyching myself up.

On meds, or rather the right dosage of meds, I can just get up and shower and immediately.

⠀

Your experiences are valid. They are also common among ADHDers.

I’ve gotten asks many times from ADHDers wondering if there was a point in trying out different meds. Cause yea, trying different meds can be tiring and take a lot of mental effort.

⠀

There’s also something I wanna add at the end, from what you’ve said.

every coping mechanism I ever adopted rendered totally useless by COVID

⠀

Stress and large changes make coping harder. A lot of ADHDers are struggling more because of it, medicated or not.

My point is that THAT could be the reason you arent finding your meds to be as useful as they could be.

Meds make it easier to do things you want to do. Coping strategies allow us to structure tasks to make it easier to do.

So what happens if our coping strategies fail?

Well, meds wouldn’t be as effective.

#Anonymous #askme #adhd #actually adhd #abcsofadhd

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mikauzoran · 3 years

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Lady Noir/Adrienette: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter One

Read it on AO3: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter One: Save Me

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Ladybug noted as they rounded the spire of Sainte Chapelle. “Something on your mind?”

“That obvious?” Chat Noir chuckled mirthlessly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he mentally kicked himself for worrying her needlessly when he knew she had so much on her own plate.

He forced a playful smile. “I thought I was putting up a pretty good front. Do I at least get points for effort?”

She slowed to a stop on the steeply pitched roof to frown in concern at her partner. “Chat Noir, if something’s bothering you, you shouldn’t stuff it down and try to hide it.”

He looked away, struggling not to laugh darkly at the irony of her assertion because bottling things up and concealing his feelings was exactly the way Adrien’s father preferred that he deal with matters.

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged, hoping she would buy the lie and move on. He felt stupid for being upset over something so silly, and the last thing he needed was for her to think he was stupid too.

“Will you let me decide if it’s nothing?” she inquired tentatively, afraid of pushing him to open up to her but wanting to be there to support him, if he needed it.

“If you feel comfortable talking about it,” she quickly added at his surprised silence. “You don’t have to. I don’t want to force you to confide in me, but…I wish you would.”

He studied her for a long moment, taking in her earnest expression, the pure desire to help that was perpetually shining in her eyes.

In spite of himself, his lips pulled up at the corner into a soft, weary, lopsided grin.

“All right. How can I say no to my Lady?” he reluctantly agreed, walking over to the edge of the roof’s gable and hopping down to the arcade just above the church’s rose window where they could sit and talk undisturbed.

She lowered herself on her yoyo and settled in beside him, stressing, “Thank you.”

He quirked an eyebrow, chuckling in earnest, “Why are you acting like I’m the one doing you a favor?”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I just…It makes me really happy that you’re willing to confide in me. I know I haven’t always been…” She bit her lip uneasily, averting her gaze. “I know you feel like I don’t always keep you in the loop, both before and after we lost Maître Fu, and I can appreciate how hard it might be to trust someone who doesn’t always act like she trusts you, so…”

Hesitantly, she looked back up at him, meeting his eyes. “…So I’m really happy that you still trust me…that I haven’t messed this up yet.”

“Oh, Bug,” he sighed, scooting closer and pulling her into a side hug. “La-dy-bug.” He clicked his tongue in feigned admonishment as he squeezed her tight. “I know you trust me in all the ways it really counts. Maybe I didn’t always get the point of all the secrets when we were younger, but I get it now…most of the time, anyway,” he amended a little more honestly as an afterthought.

“You do?” She tipped her head to get a glimpse of his expression.

He nodded and then nuzzled her hair. “I get that our lives are in constant danger, the lives of our loved ones, the fate of Paris… I get that all of that weighs heavily on your shoulders, and I understand that you’re just trying to keep yourself and me and everyone safe. I understand….” His voice lowered, softening with vulnerability. “That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt me sometimes when you feel like you have to keep me at arms’ length, but I get why you do it, and I don’t hold it against you.”

“You don’t?” she echoed in disbelief.

He fluttered his hand, palm down, back and forth. “Meh. Not much. Not usually. I mean, I have my sulky days where I’m a total drama queen about it and collapse onto my bed with my arm thrown over my face and whine to my kwami incessantly, but…yeah,” he chuckled. “Normally, I don’t hold it against you. Not anymore. I think it comes with growing up a little bit, getting more mature,” he bragged, waggling his eyebrows at her playfully to lighten the mood.

She burst out laughing, assuring, “You’re very mature, Chaton.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, yeah?” he hummed as his eyebrow arched. “You don’t sound very sincere, Ladybug. It sounds like you’re mocking me,” he began to pout. “I think my feelings are hurt.”

“No, no,” she insisted as her giggle fit slowly dried up. She rested a hand lightly on his knee and smiled genuinely, making his heart flutter. “You really have matured over the past three years. I might not have said anything, but I have noticed. Sure, you’re still goofy and ridiculous sometimes—and, I mean, I’d never want that part of you to change because sometimes your sense of humor is the only thing that gets me through some hopeless-seeming situations—”

“—I knew you always secretly enjoyed my jokes,” he snickered, finally vindicated after years of her groaning and eye rolls.

“—But,” she continued, rolling her eyes and shaking her head with a wide grin she couldn’t suppress. “you really have matured into a capable, dependable partner who I can always count on when my back’s up against a wall. I trust you,” she stressed, her expression sobering. “You read my mind and know what I want, what I need, without me having to say anything. There’s no one else in my life I can trust like that, not even myself, Chat Noir.”

She looked down at the cobbled streets of the Île de la Cité below them and sighed, muttering, “So I worry that I’m screwing everything up by keeping secrets and putting walls up between us…but I’ve talked to Tikki, and she doesn’t think that there’s any other way to keep everyone safe. In the absence of other mentors, I have to trust her judgment and believe that she’s right…but I worry that I’m alienating you…that I’m losing you.”

“Shhh, Buguinette,” Chat cooed, pulling her in closer once more and resting his cheek on the top of her head. “You will never lose me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I feel like I’ve almost lost you so many times,” she laughed miserably, a bitter snort.

He shook his head, effectively nuzzling her. “I always come back. And don’t worry. I’m not going to get frustrated and quit on you. …I’ve learned from you that being a real hero means not running away and giving up when you make a mistake but sticking around, toughing it out, and fixing things in whatever way you can…. I’m in this for the long haul, Ladybug.”

She snaked her arm around his back, returning his squeeze. “Thanks. I just…I can’t help but worry that one of these days you’ll be gone permanently, and it’s going to be my fault.”

“No,” he assured with absolute certainty. “We started this together; we end it together.”

“Thanks,” she repeated, some of the tension finally melting from her muscles. “I hope so.”

“Believe it,” he urged, giving her a squeeze and then pulling back to meet her watery gaze. “You know, it sounds like you were the one who really needed to talk, Buguinette. What was that you said about not bottling up feelings and trying to hide them?”

She blushed, looking away as he chuckled at her expense. “Do as I say, not as I do,” she admonished, whapping him on the arm before turning to him with a pout. “So? Spill already. I lowered my guard and got all vulnerable and touchy-feely with you. Now, it’s your turn. What were you so broody about earlier?”

He took a deep inhale and blew it out slowly, looking up to contemplate the stars along with his word choice. “Honestly, like I said, it’s nothing. I feel kind of silly getting so upset about it.”

“It’s not silly if you’re upset,” she comforted, gently placing a hand on his shoulder in support. “I’m not going to laugh at you, Chat Noir.”

He pursed his lips. “Yeah. I know. I just…I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re crazy stressed out with your own stuff, so I try not to throw my problems on top of your already heavy load.”

“Oh, Chaton,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not a burden. I promise. Yes, I have a lot to deal with, but I will always have time and energy for you. You’re one of the most important people in my life.”

He gave a start, his head whipping around to stare at her in astonishment. “Wait…really?”

She nodded, eyes shining with sincerity. “Of course, Chaton. You’re really precious to me. Irreplaceable.”

“Oh,” he breathed, letting her words sink in.

“Yeah,” she whispered, a soft smile spreading across her lips.

He took her hand in his, threading his fingers through hers.

“…It was just something my father said,” he sighed, coming clean.

She braced herself, knowing from what he’d shared with Ladybug and Marinette that things never ended well when Chat Noir’s father had a word with him. His father could be insensitive at best, downright cruel at worst.

She gave his hand a squeeze, gently prompting, “What did he say?”

Chat chuckled darkly. “Well, apparently, my father hasn’t noticed the way I’ve matured over the years like you have. According to him, I’m too childish for a seventeen-year-old. We were talking about…” He paused, mulling over the best way to explain it. “…our family situation. I made the mistake of suggesting he try to move on from Mother and get remarried and be happy so that we could be a family again…and he just kind of lost it,” he sighed, hanging his head.

Ladybug winced, scooting in closer so that her knee touched his thigh in a reminder of her presence.

“He told me I was idealistic—a naïve, asinine romantic who still believed in fairy stories.” Chat Noir laughed flippantly, almost sounding amused, but Ladybug could tell how much his father’s scathing rebukes must have hurt. Despite everything, Chat Noir still loved his father and yearned for his respect and love.

“He told me that real life doesn’t work out the way it does in fiction. Apparently, in real life, you’re alone from the day you’re born until the day you die, and no one’s ever going to save you.” He wilted as he repeated his father’s words, chinks forming in his veneer of composure. “…He said that there are no happy endings, no true love, no magic spells, no fairy godmothers to solve all of your problems.”

She turned so that she could rub his back soothingly without releasing his hand. “I’m sorry he went off on you like that. He must still be very heartbroken over your mother leaving to have developed such a cynical view of the world.”

“Yeah,” Chat whispered, the word hollow. “…Except…I’m afraid that maybe he’s right.”

Ladybug’s brow furrowed into a deep V of confusion. “What do you mean?”

He looked up at her searchingly. “Fiction isn’t real…is it? Real life doesn’t actually turn out the way it does in books or movies, does it?”

She pursed her lips as she parsed his words, trying to come up with a truthful yet hope-inspiring reply. “…No, not all the time, it doesn’t, but fiction isn’t completely made up either. It’s based in some truth…deeper truths. I think fiction conveys really important lessons about being human and how to live, so it’s not like it’s worthless, even if the things in books and movies didn’t actually happen.”

He looked away and was quiet for a long stretch, lost in thought.

She bit the inside of her cheek, desperately trying to read the mercurial expressions flitting across his face.

Finally, he spoke again, as if narrating a story, “I was really sheltered as a child. I didn’t grow up with many friends, and I didn’t get out much. What I learned about the world, I learned primarily through the books I read and the TV shows and movies I watched. I thought fiction was real for years.”

“Oh,” she breathed, his father’s words taking on a deeper meaning, a new sting.

“I found out when I was, like, ten that fiction didn’t depict historical events, but I’ve still always believed that the books that I read, the movies I watched, were realistic, you know?” He snuck a peek at her. “Like…as in, they could actually happen. I thought my parents’ story was an outlier because I had read hundreds of thousands of pages of happily ever after and seen hundreds of hours of movies where things worked out in the end.”

He licked his lips nervously. “I thought…my becoming Chat Noir was the start of my story. I thought there was some grand plan my life would naturally follow, and I’d meet the person I was destined to share my life with, go through a couple trials and tribulations, but then come out on top at the end and ride off into the sunset.”

She looked away, and so did he.

The air was heavy between them, but she didn’t let go of his hand.

“…My father is right, though, isn’t he?” Chat whispered after a long silence. “There is no guarantee that things are going to work out. We’re all just grasping blindly at whatever scraps of happiness we can get our hands on while we’re alive, and then we’re doomed to die alone.”

“I think that’s too fatalistic,” she replied, putting all her conviction behind her words.

He turned his head and studied her with interest. “You think?”

She nodded. “If I’ve learned anything from being Ladybug, it’s that human beings are fundamentally good and loving.”

He cocked an eyebrow, listening intently, grabbing onto her words like a lifeline.

“Yes, there are horrible people out there who do abominable things,” she granted. “But, for as much ugliness as I’ve seen, I’ve also witnessed bravery and strength and selflessness and compassion. People are good,” she reiterated, “and even though there’s no master plan or guarantee of happiness, there are beautiful things out there just waiting to be experienced and friends waiting to be made. It’s not all chaos and misery. Life is good and worth living, even if it doesn’t proceed in a neat, orderly fashion like it does in fiction.”

“Oh,” he mumbled softly, tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Shh,” she cooed, releasing her hold on his hand to reach up and wipe away the tears carefully with her thumbs. “I can’t promise that the stars will align and everything will work out in your life, but I can tell you that my parents have a relationship straight out of a meet-cute romance novel. They’re living their own version of ‘happily ever after’, so it really is possible. Don’t let your father completely stomp out your hope.”

He nodded, his sniffles becoming a weak chuckle. “Thanks, Buguinette. I guess I really did need to talk things out too after all.”

“You’re very welcome,” she assured with a bolstering smile. “I’m glad that what I had to say was able to help.”

“Me too,” he laughed a little more strongly. “I’ve been feeling really down since he said all that to me last night.” His lips drew together, doubling back onto themselves as he considered how honest to be with her.

Deciding to go all in, he looked down and to the side as he admitted, “…before that, even, actually. I’ve been feeling kind of hopeless recently. For a while.”

“What? Why?” she pressed urgently, alarmed and distressed that she had missed any and all of the signs.

He shrugged. “Just…again, this is probably silly, but—”

“—I promise it’s not,” she huffed.

“—I’ve been feeling lonely. A lot of my friends have found the person they want to marry and spend their lives with,” he explained. “And, like I said, I kind of grew up learning how the world works from books and Disney movies, and, in the stories I read and watched, people always seemed to meet the person they were destined for when they were young, and I feel like I’m getting old, past the point where I was supposed to find my soulmate, but I haven’t found them yet, so…”

He flinched, grimacing as he clarified, “Well, I mean, I thought I’d met my soulmate, but I can’t very well marry you against your will, so…”

“No,” Ladybug agreed softly, compassionately, giving his arm a supportive squeeze. “But you can do better, Chat Noir. There are plenty of other people out there who you haven’t even met yet. You’re seventeen—not old by a long stretch—and you have plenty of time to find someone who appreciates you the way you deserve.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, oddly comforted by her reassurances. “I always appreciate you rejecting me gently and trying to frame it in terms of me being out of your league.”

“You are lightyears out of my league, Chaton,” she insisted, giving his shoulder a friendly bump with her own.

He rolled his eyes and gave her arm a playful elbow in return. “Says you.”

“I do say so,” she snorted. “You’re the sweetest, most genuinely good guy I know. The only reason I’m turning you down is because I am insane and a masochist who doesn’t allow herself to have nice things.”

“So long as you know what you’re missing out on,” he snickered, and they shared conspiratorial grins before the atmosphere turned solemn once more.

“…I guess I’ve just been feeling lost lately, and what my father said completely threw me into a tailspin when I was already feeling turned around,” he sighed. “I’ve been feeling like I don’t know what kind of ‘story’ my life is, so I don’t know what to read or watch to show me what to do.”

Ladybug nodded, scooting in so that her shoulder rested against his in solidarity. “I can relate to that. I’ve felt totally disoriented many times over the years, and I’ve only been able to keep going because someone stepped in and did or said something that made me realize that I was stronger, smarter, and more capable than I was giving myself credit for.”

She looked to him and smiled bashfully. “You have been that person on so many occasions, Chat Noir. So, thank you. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you in my corner, cheering me on and supporting me.”

“I’m glad I could be there for you,” he replied in such a sincere tone that she knew he really meant it. It wasn’t just the usual platitude.

“I think that’s part of my problem,” he sighed, his affectionate smile of seconds before dimming and disappearing.

“In the books I read about people who are…” He mentally fished for the word, face twisting up into various frowns along the way as he came up empty. “I don’t want to say ‘broken’ or ‘damaged’ because that’s such an ugly way to talk about people, but…I mean people like me who have had crappy childhoods or messed-up relationships with their parents…people who have gone through things that leave them struggling to deal with life and the world the way that it is….” He looked at her uncertainly. “Do you know what I’m trying to say?”

She nodded. “You mean ‘survivors’. Survivors like you.”

Slowly, he started to nod, accepting her word and assimilating it into his self-concept. “Yeah. Survivors…. In the books I read about people who have survived various things and are trying to heal so that they can be happy and healthy, there are always people who help the main character through things and support them and encourage them.”

He took a deep breath before confessing, “I was thinking that maybe that was the kind of story my life was. Maybe I hadn’t met the person I’m supposed to marry because I have to go on a healing journey first, but I don’t feel like I’ve met the mentors I need to guide me or the friends who are supposed to support me yet. Like, maybe I’m still in the first stages of the book where all the characters haven’t been introduced yet.”

He looked up, suddenly anxious that he sounded insane. “I’m sorry. Am I even being coherent?”

“Of course,” she insisted, nodding encouragingly. “Keep talking. I’m with you.”

He took another slow inhale and continued, “Lately, I’ve started worrying that maybe there are no other characters in my story. Maybe I’m on my own and no one’s going to save me or teach me how to save myself. Maybe I have to do this all on my own…but I don’t have any precedent for that kind of story,” he reasoned sadly. “I don’t know any books or movies where the main character pulls themselves up out of whatever they’re going through all on their own, so…it’s like I don’t have a road map, and I don’t even know where I’m going in the first place to be able to ask directions. And then Father told me the stories I’d based my entire understanding of the world on were a pack of lies, so…”

His shoulders slumped in defeat, his ears and tail drooping.

“…I feel like everything’s been turned on its head lately,” he confided in a whisper. “I don’t know if any of what I’m saying is making sense, but what I’m trying to tell you is that I feel lost and alone and scared, and I feel like the things I put my trust in weren’t true.”

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in, tipping her head to rest against his. “Shhh. It’s okay. I think I get the important parts.”

“I don’t sound crazy?” he forced a chuckle, trying to put up a lighthearted front even while his chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder.

“No,” she assured. “Your experiences may be really different than mine, but I think I can appreciate trusting in something only to find out that the thing…or person, in my case…wasn’t really worth the amount of trust you placed in them. Like I said, I’ve been lost and confused before. You’re far more coherent than I am when I’m having a breakdown.”

“Okay, good,” he laughed genuinely. “Thanks for letting me word-vomit all over you. I didn’t realize how much I needed to get all of this junk out of me.”

He bit his lip, hesitating before admitting, “I don’t really have anyone to talk to.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t feel comfortable talking with any of your friends about things like this?”

He grimaced, dropping his gaze. “I mean…It’s not that I couldn’t talk to them. I just don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to be the boring, depressed kid who sucks the fun out of everything either. I typically keep up a cheerful, resilient front with them because they’re good, kind people, but they haven’t really gone through any of what I’ve gone through, so I don’t know if they’d be able to understand.”

He shook his head, glancing at her to gauge her reaction (distressed but eager to help in any way possible). “The last thing I want is to spill my guts to them and then for them to stare at my blankly, internally freaking out because they don’t know what to say. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable around me, so I tend just to keep things to myself…but, now, I really need support, someone who understands and can help me…but I’ve reached a point where I feel completely alone sometimes…and it feels like it’s too late, like I can’t tell them any of this now.”

He sighed, gazing up toward the stars once more. “I don’t know, Ladybug. I just wish I had someone to talk to so I didn’t feel so desperately isolated anymore.”

“…You can always talk to me,” she offered, feeling small and insignificant and completely ill-equipped to be the kind of support system he needed. Still, she was willing to try.

His lips twitched into the approximation of a smile, and he dropped his head to rest against hers. “Thank you, Ladybug. I really do appreciate it. Tonight… I needed this…but I don’t think this is something we could do regularly. I know you’ve got a lot going on, and I’d hate to take up your time.”

“I don’t mind,” she insisted with a huff. “I was serious when I said I always had time and energy for you.”

He nodded. “I know, but I don’t want to be one more thing on your plate. Besides, it’s kind of hard to skirt around identity-revealing information with you. There are a lot of things that are just too specifically personal that I’d want to vent about but couldn’t. If we start doing something like this regularly, I know it’s only a matter of time before I say something that gives me away.”

Her face crumpled into a deep frown as she wracked her brain for a way to make it work, a way to be there for him. Her partner needed her, and she refused to let him down on something this vitally important.

“Even if you said it was okay for you to know my identity,” he continued quietly, ruefully, “that would only cause problems. It wouldn’t feel fair. I’d want to know who you were. I’d worry about whether you didn’t want me to know because my identity changed how you felt about me or something. I don’t know. It would just drive me crazy, so we probably shouldn’t even go there. It should be mutual identity reveal or no reveal at all.”

Her heart sank as he laid out the facts for her, crushing her nascent plans.

She gulped. “I…can’t reveal my identity to you. Tikki says that it’s too dangerous, especially with me being the Guardian. No one can know who I am. We can’t endanger all of the kwamis and Miraculouses.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice soft and resigned. “I know. It’s okay, Bug. Don’t worry about it. Tonight was wonderful, but I’ll be okay, so don’t worry.”

She pursed her lips, frustrated by her own impotence as she found herself stuck between choosing her duty or her partner.

She wanted to cry and tell him not to lie to her, that he wasn’t fine, that it wasn’t okay. She wanted him to hold her accountable for her actions, for how she was failing him.

But he didn’t.

He snuggled up with her, pretending everything was fine, enjoying the moment in all of its transient glory.

“Life is beautiful sometimes,” he whispered.

“Mmhm,” she agreed, unable to find her voice amidst her troubled, roiling thoughts.

They stayed like that for nearly a quarter of an hour, and then he pulled away, getting to his feet and stretching.

She blinked up at him curiously, arching an eyebrow in question.

“I should be going,” he explained. “It’s getting late.”

Alarms started going off in her head.

She felt like her window of opportunity was quickly closing, like if she let this moment end, it would be as if it had never happened. He would pretend everything was fine while slowly crumbling on the inside.

She couldn’t leave him stuck where he was, lost and alone without anyone to turn to.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she blurted out suddenly.

He blinked at her, staring startled for a moment before his mouth finally formed the question, “Sorry, what? What about Marinette?”

“You should talk to her,” she hurriedly insisted, scrambling to her feet. “If I can’t be there for you, maybe she can. She’s very trustworthy and nonjudgmental. You could tell her anything, and I bet she’d listen and try her best to understand. I…I need you to talk to someone, Chaton. I need you to be okay, so…”

She surged forward on impulse, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning and running, tossing, “Talk to Marinette” back over her shoulder as she fled the scene and all of the feelings that had welled up inside of her on that rooftop, making her feel very mixed up indeed.

In a daze, Chat Noir somehow made it back home, his head spinning as he tried to make sense of the world.

He released his transformation and collapsed backwards onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling in mystification.

“Plagg? What just happened?” Adrien inquired of his kwami, praying that the little cheese gremlin would be in one of his beneficent moods.

Taking mercy on his holder, Plagg forewent his usual after-patrol Camembert fest and landed on the comforter next to Adrien.

“What part are you having trouble with, exactly?” he snickered. “The part where she kissed you on the cheek? The snuggling? The honest conversation?”

“All of it,” Adrien laughed. “Like…did that happen?”

“Yep,” Plagg helpfully confirmed.

“She doesn’t usually open up like that,” Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, sometimes she’ll confide in me about things a little bit, but, even then, she’s still pretty guarded. Tonight was…really nice…. And it was good to finally get some of that stuff off my chest too.”

“Like I’ve been saying for years now, you ought to talk to someone, Kid,” Plagg sighed, moving up to perch on Adrien’s chest. “It’s not good for you to hold everything in until you fall to pieces like that. You should talk to your friends.”

Adrien averted his eyes.

“I know you don’t think they’d understand and you’re afraid it would make everything awkward,” Plagg conceded in a weary huff, “but I don’t think you’re giving them enough credit. They love you, and they would be sick if they knew you were in such bad shape mentally.”

“Yeah,” Adrien whispered, imagining how distraught Nino, Alya, and Marinette would be if they only knew how bad things were behind Adrien’s perpetual smiles and cheery disposition. “I don’t know, Plagg. I don’t want to mess things up and lose the few friends I have.”

“Kid, you won’t,” Plagg rebutted for what was probably the thirtieth time. “Nino would never cut you loose like that.”

Adrien made an indefinite noise and repeated, “I don’t know, Plagg.”

Plagg pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes in frustration. Sometimes he just wanted to shake his chosen and make him wake up and see how precious he was to his friends.

“…Are you at least thinking about what Ladybug said?” Plagg prompted with far more gentleness than usual.

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. “…About talking to Marinette?”

Plagg nodded, staring down his holder expectantly.

Adrien heaved a deep sigh. “I know that Marinette would be compassionate and try her hardest to understand what I was saying and help in any way she could just like Ladybug did tonight, but…”

Plagg intensified his gaze. “‘But’ nothing. There’s no downside to talking to her.”

Adrien cringed. “Other than the fact that admitting you have mental health issues doesn’t necessarily make you an attractive prospect as a romantic partner,” he grumbled. “I’ve already admitted to one girl I like that I’m a train wreck; I don’t necessarily want to come clean to the other one too. I mean, I know nothing is ever going to happen with Ladybug, so I didn’t have anything to lose there, but there are times when I genuinely think that maybe I have a chance with Marinette, and I’d really rather not mess things up with her preemptively.”

Plagg took a deep breath, attempting to rein in his ire. “…Do you really think so little of yourself that you’re able to write yourself off entirely based on one perceived defect?”

Adrien’s gaze narrowed as his eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I…don’t understand.”

Plagg shook his head, his expression dripping with exhaustion. “Kid, your struggles with mental health don’t define you, and they don’t detract from all the amazing things about you that would make you a wonderful romantic partner…but you don’t see that at all, do you?”

Slowly, Adrien shook his head. “…I’m glad you think I have redeeming qualities, though…. Thanks, Plagg.”

He reached up and gently began to scratch behind the kwami’s ear.

Plagg gave a full-body shudder of pleasure, enjoying the attention for nearly half a minute before flying in to give Adrien’s cheek a fortifying nuzzle. “There’s a lot to love about you. I don’t pick losers to be my holders.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” Adrien chuckled, his morose mood lifting incrementally. “…Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Plagg snorted. “Now, as payment for my magnanimity, I demand—”

“—Expensive imported cheese?” Adrien guessed teasingly.

Plagg clicked his tongue. “No, but if you’re offering, I’m not going to protest…. No. As payment, I demand that you think about talking to Marinette. In earnest,” he stressed, suddenly without a hint of humor.

Adrien’s eyes widened at Plagg’s unexpectedly serious demeanor.

“Do you promise to think about it?” Plagg pressed.

Slowly, Adrien began to nod. “Okay. I’ll think about it, Plagg. I promise.”

Plagg nodded, satisfied. “All right. Good.” He flew in again to give Adrien’s cheek an affectionate lick and then resumed a more standard distance to look Adrien intently in the eyes. “My holders typically have an affinity for destruction. That’s not a bad thing. It takes tremendous strength and control to systematically tear things down, clear it all away, and start over from scratch. Destruction makes way for creation, new beginnings.”

Adrien frowned once more as he struggled to follow Plagg’s train of thought. “Oookay? …I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What I’m saying is, a little bit of destruction can be good. It creates room for growth…but don’t turn your power in on yourself, Kid,” Plagg softly entreated, warmth radiating in his voice. “Not the whole package, anyway. There are pieces of yourself you could stand to lose, but you don’t need to scrap the whole thing. Like I said, there’s plenty about you to love that’s good as is. Stop selling yourself short…and talk to Marinette,” he stressed. “If she can’t love you the way you are, she was never worth your time in the first place…but I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised if you give her a chance to prove herself.”

“…I’ll think about it,” Adrien reiterated, actually meaning it this time.

“Good,” Plagg decreed, heading over to the minifridge for his post-patrol meal. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am officially off duty. I think I’ve expended this year’s allotment of empathy and compassion in one sitting. Don’t ask me to be helpful again for at least twelve months.”

Adrien let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at his kwami’s aloof charade. “Sure thing, Plagg.”

“I’m serious,” the little deity insisted. “Next existential crisis, you’re on your own because I am spent.”

With a fond smile curling up the corners of his lips, Adrien pushed himself up and started getting ready for bed.

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regular-lord-reckoner · 3 years

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just kind of need to vent some fears i have right now throwing this into the void style but

i know i desperately need to start therapy, have for a long time but i think i’ve realized this week why it scares me so much

it’s not that i’m so much afraid of sitting down and talking about...well, everything, but it’s that i fear my life getting better

i fear growing and healing and being happier because i don’t know what i’ll do when the next inevitable tragedy happens

i’m scared it’ll undo all my hard work or hit me ten times harder

i’m scared i’ll meet new people or even fall in love (fat chance) and something will go horribly wrong

after all, my parents both had pretty shitty lives for a long time but finally found happiness it seemed like and then...bam, worst fucking thing imaginable

and i get that that’s...life. i get that nobody gets to be happy and only ever be happy and i get that horrible things can happen to anyone at any time, regardless of whether they’ve happened before but i dunno

it just seems...safer this way?

like yeah, i’m deeply miserable and can’t wait to die but isn’t that better than actually enjoying life for a second only to be body slammed back into misery?

what if life’s got even more fucked up shit in store for me and i do all this goddamn work to overcome my trust issues and abandonment issues and just...all of it and then i just have something happens that’s almost as bad as the worst thing that’s ever happened to me?

i guess that’s...childish of me? stupid of me? silly and irrational? but i don’t know how to not feel that way when a massive part of my problem is that one day i woke up to a suicide by someone that promised me they’d always be there for me.

i already feel like i walk on eggshells all the time and am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop

if i hear a loud noise downstairs i don’t think, “oh, someone probably dropped something” or even just “what was that?” i think “dead. they’re dead. someone just died and you’re going to have to see it”

and even with all of that aside like...what life am i even supposed to have?

my parents need me. my dad’s old and has a lot of health problems so i’ve been taking on even more responsibilities around the house and that’s only going to increase the older he gets

their relationship has...deteriorated. it’s not constant fighting but it’s been enough that it’s also got me on high alert and i’ve had to intervene several times because i don’t want either of them to say some shit that’s going to really hurt the other and i also just don’t want them yelling at each other

i genuinely worry about what would happen if i were to move out, i feel sometimes like i’m the only thing holding this all together and like...yeah, that’s not really fair to me but at the same time too...i would have ended my shit a long time ago had it not been for them so i feel like...what choice do i have but to stay? might as well, right?

if i’m too chicken shit to get better because i’m scared it’ll all fall apart anyway then i might as well just stay stagnant and stay here and just take care of them and try to keep the peace as long as i can and whenever they’re eventually gone i figure if life’s okay i’ll just ride it out until the end but if not...well.

idk. i know that the obvious answers are here and i know what anyone or any therapist would say if i were to say these things. that i need to just get over this and learn to want to live my life for myself and not worry as much about what’ll happen because that’s not my responsibility

but i feel like i already let down one person i really loved in the worst way so i owe to my family to do this, to stay here and to help out however i can

and yeah, it’s not ideal but it’s at least the devil i know so it feels better than the alternative

the downside is i know it’s going to cost me everything else

i know nobody wants a fucking sad sack who won’t get her shit together and isn’t going anywhere in life

i know i offer little to nothing because i can barely muster up the energy to be enthusiastic about my own interests and just generally speaking i suck

yeah, i’m good for a laugh here or there but apart from that? that’s about it

i can’t seem to form any hobbies or do any activities that might be fun because trying new things makes me suicidal as shit when it’s supposed to be like...fun, but it’s not

i feel like all i ever do is bitch and moan and nobody likes that, that gets old really fucking fast and i know that

i don’t blame anyone for giving up on me or losing hope because i did this to myself and nobody but me can get myself out of this and well...i don’t know if i can or if it’s even worth it

so i just...don’t really know what to do

and maybe this is just my very bad brain at the moment and when i go back on my ~medication i’ll change my mind and want to actually get better, regardless of how terrifying that is, but i’ve spent this entire week crying my eyes out because the thought of it just feels so fucking overwhelming and impossible

i dunno. i’m sorry to anyone who reads this because i know this is... a lot, but i’ve been holding this in for a long time and this entire past year has really been hard on me

i try not to talk about it because i know it’s a bummer and i know it just pushes people even further away from me, but i don’t think it’s helping just bottling it up and pretending like it’s not all i can ever think about and again...i genuinely don’t know if i can do the therapy thing because...yeah

i also just need to get this off my chest because i haven’t said it on here or to anyone but i also lost my dog a few months ago

i genuinely don’t know what happened to him, i think someone may have straight up stolen him because some people moved out of one of the houses near us and i know he’d been going over there sometimes so i’m not sure if that’s the case, if it is i just hope they’re taking good care of him because he’s a very sweet boy who doesn’t deserve anything bad to happen to him

we’ve looked everywhere for him and we don’t have those people’s information and even if we did i doubt they’d admit, “oh yeah, we stole your dog!” so i’m really not sure but naturally the last time i ever saw him i was trying to do some work outside and i needed to just get it done but he wanted to play so i told him to just wait until i was finished and then i’d play with him, so he wandered off and that’s the last time i ever saw him

i’ve felt like such a fucking asshole over it and i’ll scroll through my phone looking for something and see pictures of him and i just...can’t. i still keep hoping he’s just going to reappear one day, tail wagging and wanting a hug

it doesn’t have as much to do with everything else but it’s just kinda like...damn, dude.

oh, and my grandmother has lung cancer and doesn’t want treatment so there’s also that

my relationship with her has broken down pretty badly so i’m not horribly torn up about it but i know it’s going to be hard on my mom and so like...even more reason why i feel like i have to be here, y’know?

idk. it just kinda feels like my life isn’t really mine and maybe it shouldn’t be because i’m not sure i can handle it, i’m not sure i can handle it getting good only for it to possibly get really bad again and i know that there’s always the possibility of it just...being okay and that maybe bad things will happen, but they won’t be traumatic and awful but...taking that risk just feels impossible and ultimately i don’t know that it’s worth it because at the end of the day it’s...me.

i figure i already inflict myself on enough good people who only deserve good things and if i’m to fade into the background of my stagnant life then that’s probably for the best because all i do is make things worse and needlessly difficult even when i don’t mean to so it’s not like i really deserve to get better anyway

i’ve rambled enough and if i keep going it’s just going to get more whiny and pathetic so i’ll stop myself but i’m hoping maybe like i said if i can just...put these thoughts here then maybe i can make it through tomorrow without crying?

probably not, but it’s worth a shot, i guess. again, this may just all be temporary given my current mental state, but i’ve also been putting off therapy for a long time since before this week as is so...not sure that’ll really change any time soon. i had almost worked up to just doing the damn thing before the pandemic happened and then...well. feel like i might have missed my window of opportunity if i ever was going to do it because in some senses i’ve gotten better at managing all of this, i guess, but in other ways i feel like i’ve just fallen even further down the hole and trying to climb out feels like it’s guaranteed to just get me hurt even worse so i kind of want to just stay down here.

i’m trying not to give up completely or be totally hopeless about the whole thing, but at the same time...yikes!!!

#need to just brain fart for a second i apologize #this is kinda dark so please don't feel obligated to read #i'll probably delete this soon i just have another shitty work week coming up and if i want to make it thorugh #without completely losing my mind i at least need to kind of feel like i'm talking to an actual human being #because i am not capable of that at the moment

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allyisapunkrocker · 4 years

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Trigger Warning for discussion of depression, suicide, self harm etc.

I don’t think I’ve had as an eventful month in my life as I’ve had in the last month or so other than maybe my last month of high school and schoolies. A month or so ago I tried to admit myself in the hospital for depression and suicidal thoughts as if I didn’t I would’ve cut my arms and my legs and possibly my genitals. I was having a difficult time not being able to deal with my interactions at work and feeling like a freak and like I had no one in my life I could talk to and had an extreme fear of never having anyone close in my life. I was making friends at work though and they’re genuinely lovely people who I’ve always liked and was grateful they were befriending me and trying to help. One of them who is still my favourite person helped me not feel like a freak. I was still self loathing and suicidal though. There were other lovely people who would talk to me and treat me like a person and offered to help me. I went clothes shopping with them which was such an awkward horrible experience despite having amazing company. The shopping part - trying on clothes in the change room was traumatic and had me crying. This and the fact that these people were talking to me and trying to help but weren’t making me feel any better - just made me feel worse and hopeless, like it wasn’t possible for me to feel or get better. My favourite person assured me It was and promised we’d talk after she got back from her trip. She left for her much deserved holiday and very wisely cut herself off from technology and social media and was prioritising her mental health which she has all the right to do and I’m not blaming her or laying any guilt on her or anything like that. I applaud her for prioritising herself and her mental health. It was just difficult for me to not have her to talk to as often as I needed to. I was drinking heavily and considering downing all my medicine in one go or drinking bleach. I had been an absolute toxic nightmare not only to people at work that I didn’t like or care about but to people there that I liked and that care(d) about me. I’d be talking about different violent things I wanted to do to myself as I didn’t care anymore about myself or anything. So at my absolute lowest I went to the hospital - my psychologist Told me that this should be a last resort and in my mind it was. They wouldn’t admit though me and instead gave me a talking to and sent me home saying I could come back and talk if I needed. It was an absolute waste of time and not helpful in the slightest. A week or so later I made an appointment to see a psychiatrist I had that I haven’t seen since I started my job around two years ago.

After seeing my psychologist I started feeling a little better. I was still in a dark deep depression and didn’t have any belief that things could get better but I at least started trying to be grateful for the friends at work and the fact that I was employed at this really bad time. While I was looking for my favourite person to be the friend I thought she was I made another friend in another of my favourite people in the workplace and she would help put things in perspective while also being patient with my toxic bullshit. When my favourite person came back from her break continuing to prioritise her mental health - which I love and hope it helps and that it helps her feel good, it’s the least she deserves - meaning not answering messages until she felt like it or got around to it. It was difficult for me to deal with and it was frustrating but it was more at me as I wasn’t being emotionally mature enough to not take it personally as it’s something she needs to do for her. At the same time my new friend is still patiently helping me through my toxic shit while occasionally showing tough love that at the time I was also struggling with. I wasn’t feeling any better but I had good examples of people I respect and admire and who have overcome horrible mental health problems and demonstrate healthy practices that they work on to improve their lives. These were seeds that were planted in me that have began to grow. I get a lot out of talking to these people. They’re both intelligent and brave and mentally tough. And have huge hearts as well. They’ve become my role models.

So that brings us to the last couple of weeks which pretty much started at my most recent appointment with my psychiatrist. I had believed I could’ve been bipolar due to my drastic changes in moods - which had recently seemed even more severe. She perceptively suggested that it could’ve been a severe mood instability and prescribed me some medication. This medication in conjunction with my realisation that what I wanted in life was people to be close with - friends, lovers etc. however this was an impossibility while i hated myself. No one would want to be around me if I didn’t want to be around me. Also I knew my mood and how I’m feeling couldn’t be dependent on interactions with the people I like. As I was noticing my mood would rise around my favourite people but then drop drastically if the interaction didn’t go how I wanted it to. I would think the worst and always blame myself and try to force things instead of just let whatever happens happen. I need to be in a healthy mindset in order to live the life that I want. So after a few weeks of being on this medication.......

My mental state is the best it’s ever been. I’m in love but I’m not allowing my mood to be dictated by interactions with her or with anyone else I like at work or anywhere. I’m actively working on focusing on the positives in my life and the things I’m grateful for and if things dont go my way I accept it and go on with my day. I’m going to treat and love myself the way I treat people I love and the way I’d want them to treat and love me. I’m going to work on being organised and thoughtful and work on being a good influence in my life. I’m going to use the skills I see my favourite people use in their struggles with their problems to build a repertoire of life skills that help me build a life worth living. I’ve been writing about goals and dreams and I have a mental happy place for the first time since I had soccer as a child. I’ve been getting positive feedback about my writing and people telling me it makes them happy to read which is wonderful to hear because it makes me happy to write. I’m interacting positively with coworkers and have become much better with customers as I’m not letting things I have no control over impact me negatively.

My immediate goals (I cant believe I have goals, the only goals I’ve had for the past 20 years were dying or wanting to want to be alive more than I want to die) are to continue writing and to be there for my friends at work if they need to talk or anything else. I’m going to continue to actively try to be positive and grateful and a safe non judgmental person that people can talk to if they need to vent or need a nonjudgmental ear to talk to. I’m going to try new things and not be scared to fail. I’m going to work at things I need to do to adult properly. I’m going to limit crap I put in my body and watch and limit the negative affects I have on the environment as that’s an important value I want to align my lifestyle choices with. This is such a weird turn of events and a weird time in my life but it’s an amazing change and for the first time since I can remember I have ambitions and goals and dreams for a future where I’m content and surrounded with love and laughter and fashion and the environment.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I guess the purpose of this other than it being an outlet for getting this all off my chest is to show people that things can get better. I’m not saying it will. But it’s possible.

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doctorguilty · 4 years

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[[MORE]]

Well I can confidently say the zoloft is making a huge difference because I could have NEVER handled the past 2 work weeks, much less TWO consecutive 11 hour days at all, without having an enormous depressive breakdown like I was having those before like omg remember it wasn't that long ago I was saying like..... "my breakdowns are happening closer and closer together it's becoming too much and I'm scared about how much longer I can go on like this" and just like that... a couple weeks in and it just stopped? Like I had a couple small breakdowns here and there over like specific triggers going on irl, my bpd is still p stirred up, but I've otherwise felt like.... fine ....... like I don't wake up anymore with my FIRST thought of the day being wishing I were dead, I cant remember crying myself to sleep recently either??? Like things have been immensely stressful but mostly I just feel angry about it and I think that anger is just me wanting to change things that are hurting me, if that makes sense, idk, it's hard to put into words...

I just feel. Really good. Like not numb, not even apathetic... like my sadness doesnt feel so consuming, it doesnt rip my mind apart all day and distract me, my brain isnt feeding me an endless stream of in intrusive thoughts, anxiety, and paranoia..... like its not all entirely gone but it's so.. minimal... and I feel like theres more space in me to feel happiness or at least contentment, at always just feeling like things will be okay and not be overwhelmed by hopelessness

My brain isnt suffering from vacancy anymore either I'm still a little fuzzy here and there but mostly my thought streams are all there making me feel creative and internally mentally stimulated! Omg it was genuinely SO scary at first because like.. the first week or so? I literally lost the ability to imagine anything in my minds eye, like I couldn't see pictures in my head anymore and I was so unimaginably scared beyond words like how can i do my art or even just LIVE without that... but I wanted to give it time and not bail right away... so when the psychiatrist followed up with me I told her about that like, how my mind was empty and it was scaring me and she said like, it needs some time to balance out dont worry, practice filling the void with positive things, so that's what I did ...... like what I do is I would like, try to pull up memories of stuff in my like, my brain art files i had been thinking about for a while like I would listen to a song I had drawn out some story board thumbnails for and be like , ok man remember you know what this should look like, right? And just try to imagine the scenes because they were things I saw in my mind before! It was really really hard at first like... it was weird I really dont know how to describe it but over time it came back to me all very naturally and it was so comforting at the time cause being able to picture stuff I had before made me optimistic my mind wasnt like, damaged .... anyway now I'm back to normal and I can imagine whatever again on cue like, (imagines fern fortnight dancing) yep it's all working up there

SO yeah it was... quite an experience but it seems the worst of the side effects are over and its making me feel better and I'm really really glad about that, I definitely had my doubts in fact like, I barely know anyone at all who found success with the first anti depressant they tried????? But that's how lamictal was for me too as the first thing I ever started taking like....... whack...... my mood stabilized my depression anti my meat huge

I'm defs sticking with this so long as nothing suddenly changes or goes wrong in fact I dont know if I'll even bother going up on the dose when they talk to me about that because I feel like that was my one mistake with lamictal, a prescriber haphazardly upped me even though I'd been on the same dosage for years and I honestly dont know if that was a good idea and I wasnt even in a mental place where I could be self advocating (which only makes it worse he did that???) So this time I'm handling this in a "if it ain't broken dont fix it" way and right now I feel less broken than I ever have in my life

#seth speaks #looonnggg ramble about med stuff #its positive #d0 not r3bl0g

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the-mind-wanders · 4 years

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I am so thankful that I’m no longer in college. College was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. As I look back on these Timehop photos, I feel the pain that I did at the time. I’m cute and smiling, but I felt absolutely worthless and that was because of school, because of the professors, because of my peers. And deep down I knew that it was temporary. I knew that the second I left that everything they had been preaching would be wrong. (And it was, how shocking.)

Like I still have my mental health problems and still don’t always want to stay alive but I never EVER feel worthless anymore. If anything I’m more stressed that I feel like I’m the only competent person I know in my daily life.

I had hoped that once I graduated, I would become truly humbled by working in the “real world”. Well that took a 180. Instead, what I had feared would happen, did. I feel as though I’m overly confident because I was made to feel so worthless for so long. Now, I’m by far the most detailed oriented person at work which is a more important asset in my work as an engineer than anything I had done on tests in college.

In college, that didn’t matter. Now, it’s like the only thing that does matter. That and that no one EVER has to follow up with me. If they ask me to do something, they know it’ll be done, and done correctly. These are skills I’ve had prior to college and that college made me feel like didn’t matter.

I’m very obviously bitter. Bitter for me, bitter for all the kids I saw try engineering and “couldn’t” and bitter for anyone who is feeling that hopelessness right now.

The whole time I told myself, just get through college. Just make it to that finish line. Then the rest of your life will be easy relatively. And I was right. And I’m more pissed that I was right.

I am never going to feel the way I felt in college ever again. Ever. Those years are gone and I wish I could go back to those longest years of my life and just let myself know, yeah you’re right. Do what you need to do and don’t think twice. You’re here right now, but you won’t always be, and you won’t care about anyone who is contributing to how you’re feeling now. Enjoy your time with Lee and Stacey. Enjoy living with Joey, enjoy your women’s studies classes because those are going to be the most influential to your life. Enjoy your time with Austin while you can because you need each other now and maybe some day you both won’t anymore. And don’t keep wishing for it to be over, though I completely understand, enjoy the little moments between classes by genuinely enjoying them instead of panicking. I know most of that is impossible with the anxiety and with the depression, but the extra semesters are a blessing. You need a break, you need to sleep for once, and let yourself eat.

And yes, you’ll get a puppy soon after you graduate. And he will make waiting your whole life for a puppy really worth it. And you’re going to be the absolute best fur mama. And the confidence you’ll feel will absolutely be a complete 180 from how you’re feeling now.

And and and. I know. But this is to me. Forgetting the grammar and forgetting that anyone else is reading. But posting just in case someone in those shoes right now needs to read it. You’re right. And you’re going to be an amazing engineer valued on so much more than you can imagine now.

#a letter to me #personal thoughts #personal #talking to the void #do not interact

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shooting-stars01 · 4 years

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I’ll See You at Three

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long! I started college and wanted to get back into writing these things. I’m hoping this will be an interesting series, not really sure where I’m going to take it yet. If anyone has any suggestions, I would love to hear them. I also want to start doing requests soon. Not sure if I have the following for it, but I’m up for trying new things. Anyways, message me if you have a request and I’ll get back to you. This story is non-canon, just a story I came up with involving characters from the MCU. Hope you enjoy! Also, any feedback is greatly appreciated. :)

Pairing: Peter Parker/Spider-Man X Reader

Chapter: 1/?

Words: 2,133

Warning: None, some cursing

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College was a fucking nightmare, and nothing could convince her otherwise. Ever since she could remember, everyone had told her she would love college. They fed her lies, saying it would be the greatest experience of her life. Granted, she had only been in school for two months, but she felt it was enough to make the educated decision that college fucking sucked. The weekends were the worst. Unless you were an avid partier or had friends who knew where the parties were, there was nothing to do, except listen to everyone else’s parties. She hated the constant noise on campus. Whatever was happening, there was always noise, never a single quiet moment. It wouldn’t have been such a problem if she could just learn to let things go like everyone else could, but for some reason, she hated when people couldn’t think about others around them, and causing a large amount of noise and being generally annoying, was one of the things she hated most. Y/n just liked the quieter side of life, and that did not include people running around outside her dorm at three in the morning with a megaphone shouting.

It was early in the morning, too early for the sun to be out, when y/n decided she couldn’t take the noise anymore. She hadn’t slept in fourteen hours but decided to take a walk anyway, hoping it would bring her past the point of exhaustion and allow her to rest when she got back to her dorm. It was a Saturday, and for some reason, Saturday’s were the worst. People decided to be extra loud, especially on the floor above hers (she got stuck on the first floor of freshman dorms as if things couldn’t be shitty enough). That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst being that her roommate would stay out until god knows when with friends. Y/n loved having the room to herself but hated the fact that her roommate never bothered to include her in anything. It made her feel less than, just as she had felt with most other people in her life. She had learned a long time ago to let go of people that made her feel that way, but how was she supposed to stay away from her roommate. She tried to convince herself this walk was just to reach exhaustion, but it was also a spite walk. Y/n hoped her roommate would get back to the dorms before her and feel left out herself. Y/n hated the idea that her roommate might think she had no friends or didn’t do anything fun, and so far, y/n was pretty sure that was the exact impression she had given her roommate.

Y/n put on some leggings and a hoodie and walked out of her dorm room, trying not to look as petty and sulky as she felt. At this moment, she felt spectacularly pathetic, but it was her first semester in college, and who could blame her for being so fucked up in the head. This was her first time away on her own and she always thought she would love it, but so far it had been one major disappointment, and all she wanted to do was turn around and go straight back home. Two months and it still didn’t feel any better.

The air was briskly cold which was a nice contrast to how it usually felt. She had to admit that she hardly ever actually went out of her dorm at night. She wondered if it was cold like this all the time at night and made a mental note to go out more. Y/n loved the cold weather, and she didn’t get much of it here, one of the main reasons she had come to hate college so much. She was used to much colder weather back home, and at least when it was hot where she lived it was a dry sort of heat instead of the humid kind here. The winds did help to cool things down sometimes, but for the most part, she hated every single sunny day.

There were some students still meandering about, talking loudly around campus as they drunkenly stumbled their way to another party or back to their dorms. As she walked, she thought about what it might be like if she had that same type of energy, if she could just run around from one party to the other, mingling with boisterous people as if it were second nature. Y/n wished it could be easy to blend in with people, to have a good time without worrying about what to say next or if she looked good enough to be talking to the hot guy in the room. She hated the way she didn’t feel good enough to even look some people in the face, which was funny considering they probably wouldn’t even remember her.

Y/n looked up at the sky hoping to catch a glimpse of the stars, something that reminded her of nights spent outside having long talks with her sister. There were no stars in the sky tonight, or rather there were, but she couldn’t see them through the thick smog that seemed to stick around all the time, another thing she could add to the list of reasons she hated college.

Y/n didn’t know exactly where she was headed on this walk, perhaps to her new favorite spot, a hill overlooking the city. She liked to watch the illegal things that cars did on the street below and sometimes she would watch the airplanes fly overhead. There were so many of them, taking off at least every ten minutes from the airport. They were beautiful in a way which is something she never thought she would admit. When one would pass, she would think about each person on the plane, where they were going, and what they were thinking. Every time she was on a plane, she was always able to find a new perspective, looking at the world from so high up. As she approached the bench she usually sat at to look over the hill, the height did not give her new perspective, but rather reminded her she was stuck in a city she hated more than anything and promised she would never move to. How did she become one of these people? I guess it wasn’t so bad, but at the same time, all these people were so different from her. Every time she headed out of her dorm, or encountered her roommate, she was reminded of this fact, that she was nothing like the people who went to this school. On many occasions, she had spoken on the phone with her mom about it, but over and over again, her mother told her she just needed to find her people, that they existed, and as the weeks dragged on, y/n felt it more and more hopeless.

Y/n was taken out of her thoughts when she heard someone approaching behind her. She expected the sound of their footsteps to fade, but they continued to get closer until they were almost right behind her. Could they not see her sitting here? Y/n thought about saying something but decided it would make the situation awkward. She should have realized how awkward it would be when the person approached and went to sit down but then realized that someone was already sitting on the small bench. Granted, there was room for two people, but they would have to sit rather close, too close for two people who did not know each other.

“Oh sorry. Didn’t see ya there” the dark figure said. Y/n could tell that they were smiling, probably from the awkwardness.

“It’s ok” she replied, not wanting to start anything, though she wondered how they really couldn’t see her.

“Didn’t really think anyone would be out here at this time,” they said. “Usually this bench is empty.”

“Do you always come out here at three in the morning?” she said sarcastically.

“Yea. Why not? It’s far away from all the noise, plus it’s a nice place to relax.”

“Yes, but at three in the morning?”

“Well you’re out here at three in the morning, aren’t you?”

“Yea, but this is a first time, one-time thing.”

The figure moved out of the shadows and into the light coming off from the city and went to sit down next to y/n, which unsettled her less than she thought it would. So far, this was the easiest interaction she had with someone.

“Yes, well I promise you that you’ll become addicted. I thought the same thing too the first time I came out here, and now look at me, I’m a regular.”

In the light, y/n could see that the figure was a boy, which she had guessed by the voice, but in the light, y/n could see that he was a rather attractive boy.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked, casual as if he was not talking to a stranger on a bench at three in the morning.

“Y/n. What about you?”

“Parker, Peter Parker”

Y/n liked the way he smiled. He seemed to smile with every word he said. It wasn’t the fake two-faced smiles she had been seeing all around campus, but rather it was the first genuine smile she had seen in a long time, except from the few friends she had made. He kind of reminded her of a character she liked in a book she once read, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. His presence brought her a weird sense of calm, which she liked because all she had felt since arriving on campus was an extreme feeling of panic and dread. She felt protected with him.

“What year are you?” His tenor voice melted into the distant sounds of the city.

“I’m a first-year, what about you?”

“Third-year”

Y/n suddenly felt extremely self-aware. She had never talked with a Junior, and it made her feel inferior in so many unreasonable ways.

“Have you been coming out here for three years now?”

“Yea, every Saturday since my third week here.”

“You don’t go to parties or anything?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Of course, I go to parties, when I feel like it, but I just always leave before three and come here. I need this time to just slip away. If I didn’t, I don’t know what I would do.”

Y/n knew what that was like. She suddenly realized she should probably leave and let him get his alone time.

“Well, I should probably get going then. Wouldn’t want to ruin your Zen or anything.”

“Oh no, please stay. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

“Really? Even out here in your spot?”

“Well, it’s your spot now too.”

“I would hardly say that.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was mildly flattered he was so willing to share his special spot with her.

“Nonsense! Besides, sometimes it’s better to have someone to talk stuff out with, you know. Someone who you feel comfortable with.”

Y/n had missed this. Even with the friends she had made, she still felt like she had to hold back a part of her personality with them. Here, with him, she hadn’t felt that for a single moment, and they had hardly exchanged any words. He was friendly and accommodating. What could be so bad about staying to talk with him? Perhaps she would make a new friend and a third-year at that.

“All-right. I’ll stay.”

He smiled at her and it made her stomach flutter. She could get used to this, to him.

It was nearly dawn when they both said their goodbyes and headed to their separate dorms. They had talked for nearly three hours and even in the silence between their words, there wasn’t a single moment of awkwardness, but rather a feeling of comfort. She was in a state of bliss and her head was buzzing at a thousand miles an hour but she was too tired to comprehend any of it. When she got back into her dorm room, her roommate still had not come back from wherever she had gone to earlier in the night. Y/n was glad. She had the whole space to bask in what happened. She wanted to stay up the whole night so as not to let the feeling of magic escape her, to live in it as long as possible, but as soon as her head hit the pillow she fell asleep, her dreams filled with Peter Parker, the boy on the bench.

#peter parker #spider-man: homecoming #spider-man: far from home #spider man #mcu #marvel #marvel imagine #spiderman marvel #tom holland #the avengers imagine #The Avengers #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #non-canon #i'll see you at three

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iambellac · 4 years

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Finding Confidence, Love, Peace, and Worth within Oneself

Being broken was something I never asked for, it’s something I wouldn’t even wish upon my worst enemy… When you’re falling apart and every path you try to build up just crumbles down, you start giving up. You decide to stop trying with yourself, your family, friends, and even everything around you, especially school.

When you’re not loved the right way by your family you learn so much from the situations that you were put through it changes your whole view on life, whether it’s positive or negative.

The person you put all of your love, attention, honesty, into has now pretty much vanished right before your eyes, they turned almost in an instant. Like, whose grave do I go visit when I miss you because you’re not really dead, you just left without a warning. Never in a million years would I have thought YOU of all people to actually “leave.” It took a year and 2 months for me to realize that I needed out. Your addiction got the best of you. I lost you to an addiction. You weren’t the person who I grew up knowing. I absolutely hated you. You made my life a living hell when all I wanted to do was help. You pushed me away further and further. Only, you wouldn’t actually let me physically leave. You wanted me to suffer WITH you.

That was one risk I wasn’t willing to take.

I needed out. You know how many times I just wanted to start a pathetic argument so you would throw me out again? My last few months I started losing myself. I kept pushing myself to do absolutely everything I could to help out and do better. You kept pushing me down. You made me feel so less of worth, I started believing that I wasn’t worth anything at all.

It felt like I was holding a boulder over my head or as if my head was under water and you were the one holding it there. I felt trapped, hopeless, and everything started weighing in. I had spent the last 7 months fighting my depression and of course, just like any other time, I try focusing on myself, helping myself, and you call me selfish.

But I had finally come to the realization, I’m not getting out. I have to wait for the right time. I kept telling myself I’ll just leave after I graduate. I’ll stay. I’ll help out. We’ll get through this. Everything was going to be just.. fine...

Then, the day finally came…

You did what you did and I left. I finally found my escape. I wasn’t happy. Not at first. I had spent years on top of years defending you and trying to make up excuses for you but I had finally found my way out. I was hurting physically and mentally but it was the beginning of my journey. I had finally been able to do for me and care for myself without anyone at my throat telling me how selfish I was.

So, my journey began.

It was hard at first. I felt so alone I thought I needed someone there for me.

I found someone who genuinely cared and made everything better. For a minute I even thought I was in love with this person. But you see,

Love is something that is not so easily explained.

Yeah, you can get those butterflies in your stomach when you look at someone that means everything to you. They just constantly run through your mind and you wonder if they think the same. When you look at them, your heart does this little skip thing then you realize you’ve been holding your breath for too long because God really took his time to make this person. Specifically for you.

You can feel that amazing connection. When they hug you, it feels like you’re safe from anyone who could ever possibly hurt you. Or when they hold your hand and rub their thumb across yours, softly caressing it. Almost feels like they give you this warm feeling that you haven’t been able to feel since you were a kid.

Now all of a sudden, it feels like you’re “home” again.

But, have you ever thought about how someone makes you feel at “home?”

It’s almost as if “home” isn’t a place, location, or any sort of object.

Almost feels like “home” is when you’re with that one special person.

Home is where the heart is.

This person comes to you with open arms and accepts you in every single way possible. The way you look, the way you act, and maybe even the way you view yourself. They help you develop into a better person. They make you realize that maybe life is actually worth living. They never give you a reason to second guess their loyalty. They always make sure that you’re okay. They really put time and effort into you… something you haven’t had in a long time.

Day after day goes by, they are your best friend, partner in crime, and maybe even the love of your life. You may argue, bicker, and have your disagreements, but they will forever be that special person.

Until you mess up and let them go. But if you really think about it, sometimes God removes people from our lives because he heard a conversation that us as people couldn’t hear. So is it really YOUR mess up? Or is it faith?

Who knows. We live and we learn.

Now, I’m going to be completely honest, some things that people do as part of their come up, they lose people on the way. Not everyone is there for the ride. You just have to stay true to yourself and drop people no matter how much it hurts. Only if you have to. You have to stay strong and keep your head held high. I have had the absolute biggest support group behind me the last few months from friends, family, mentor, therapist, and even my teachers. I could never be more thankful for those who have really stuck by my side. Even when I wanted to push everyone away and work at it myself. They still stood their 10 toes down and made sure I was getting better. They always checked up on me. There were times when I felt alone but they really helped me find myself and at the end of the day, they’ll be the ones I thank if I ever win a Nobel Prize.

My journey took well worth long enough. I don’t remember the last time I was THIS happy. I can actually look at myself and be proud of what I have become. I will never give up on myself again. At this point I’ve come too far. I am happy, vibrant, and ecstatic. I’m finally me again

Written by yours truly: me, Bella C 😌

#lifeisbeautiful #real life #my life #poetry #autobiography #poets corner #aesthetic #positivity #lovelife #loveme #lovepoetry #lifelesson #lessonlearned #lifegoeson #brokehome #everything turned out okay

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violetsystems · 4 years

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#personal

I’m sure everybody knows my political views and leanings by now enough to know I’m in a dark place with America. Everyone of us is probably in some way or another in this country at this point. It’s particularly frustrating for me because I’ve ridden a long, horrible arc for years. One that crash landed to the point in time where I sit now. A good decade later in the same apartment and in a very different point in my life. I’ve been employed for twenty years. I think this year is the first year I’ve ever felt in control enough to imagine a light at the end of the tunnel. And then the world around me starts to disintegrate. In an era so foul and callous, it’s exhausting to muster up any care. When you do, it is attacked, hunted and ridiculed. I posted that article about the CPD officer who was allegedly caught fraternizing on a Proud Boys forum. The gist was that they were profiling people who were known leftists. Their goal was to set these people up in public and start fights. This isn’t new for me. If anyone knows anything deeper than surface level about me, they know it has come with the territory. It’s not a new thing to me. People have been targeting me and singling me out for my beliefs for years. I’ve become more and more quiet about them. More and more enclosed. And things have gotten far more tight and boxed in for me. I’ve worked from home since March. The bullying doesn’t stop and neither is it limited to racist cops and career opportunists. In the neighborhood, the racial dynamic has changed. Peppered between the homeless and the gang members who mark the alley as home are just as many white people. White people who think I owe them a conversation because I too am also white. Or white passing. I am Caucasian. I don’t give a fuck about “White Culture.” Usually the burden of white people’s expectations for society are rooted in privilege. A privilege they are never aware they are wielding. America is controlled by the worst of them with money. Truth be told the worst and most pushy white people in Chicago tend to be developers and property owners. I live on a property of renters. It’s a different mentality for sure. I also am not in a lease. Most of my negotiation of space has been a silent understanding of what is expected of me by my landlord. I’ve learned what parts of that ecosystem I’m responsible for and benefit my surroundings. I was struck by the line Killer Mike had said last night about Atlanta. He had made a comment that this was a time to shelter, organize and plot. I don’t have license to lecture anybody on looting. I have conflicting feelings every time I think about wearing that Increase the Peace shirt out a week after purchasing it. In fact, I have second thoughts about leaving the house at all these days. Let alone leaving the state anytime before 2021.

And then there’s the human reality of what I go through and what I’ve been through. The invisible nature of how I live. A silent understanding with near subliminal validation and affirmation. To be honest these days, I don’t look for validation other than my own gut. People don’t get why I’m always alone and yet nobody ever reaches out. I’m here every weekend by myself with my cat. The only real love I feel is in this dash. That doesn’t seem so weird anymore considering the circumstances and the times. People sit and drink on zoom every weekend. I don’t drink. The only video chat I do these days is for work. My emotional life is a fucking void in some ways. I look back to the last three years and wonder if I’ve just been living a ridiculous and fucked up lie. One that people wrapped me into to make fun of me. To destroy me and abandon me. Those feelings are there. And then I look at how the world turns out for people who follow the obvious. Who never question. Who never think that they can be treated like they deserve. Who are as beat down as me but never are getting up again. I think about it sometimes. That I’ve been as far as Shanghai alone. How it feels like I may never return to some places? For the record, I’d be back in China sooner than I’d consider anywhere else. But nobody is going anywhere right now. And I have to face the fact that I haven’t really been going anywhere for a decade. At least when it comes to my value to other people. Which is why everyone knows why I share my thoughts here. Nobody has ever listened to me in public. The reason nobody knows anything about me or ever has a real human read on me is because they are afraid of me. I’ve heard it point blank from people. That I’m confrontational. That something about me bothers someone. That I go against the grain. That I need to be more friendly or outgoing. And then I look back at five years of traveling alone on my own dime. I am finally in a place where that is financially behind me. I did it to find an escape. To network. To put myself in a better place. To be in a place with possibility for a real life. A real relationship. And years later the irony is I’m just still here. In a haze with no meaning or explanation. I’m still just an enigma. Not because I’m inaccessible. I wonder sometimes if Artificial Intelligence has combed enough of these week by week to know exactly how I feel about the world. Certainly some real people do. And I can tell you week after week until I die that it does not matter. That I do not feel like I matter at all.

To operate from that state of hopelessness is anybody’s right. Especially when they were set up to fail to begin with. The truth is the ruling power structure in America is a bully. They feel they can discourage and neg you until you shut up and fall in line. Rich, white powerful men. The same men we stick our hands out to for the trickle down. The glass ceilings that get higher disproportionately. The bursting at the seams when people begin to melt down emotionally. The money and debt that keeps piling up to push the GDP. The speculation and the horror on every single moment and metric in your life. The constant watching. The constant plotting. The back stabbing and the manipulation. You stick your neck out to fight and you are labeled, marked and hunted. This is what they want. Division and chaos. Especially during an election year. And while I’ve spent years being guilted into being political, I’ve only seen things get worse. Politics is a noble cause. But politics in America are bought. No genuine person like myself would ever have a chance unless I wanted to sink deep into the tainted vat of cash. Borrow enough with the hope to seize power. If anybody really wants to know my feelings about debt in 2020 they are complex. My personal choice has been far more austere for how I guide my future. I know that I have a job. I know that I’ve spent the last few months upgrading my apartment to accommodate that. I know what hopelessness feels like but I would never measure it against our current sorrow as a nation. I don’t see a future for myself right now. I feel empty and alone. It hurts daily. I feel abandoned and invisible. I feel like I will rot and die alone. And I try to stay positive. To think that this is not the case. And all I do is feel the tears in my eyes stinging as I write this. My life has been destroyed over and over again. I have been subjected to the most foul psychological torture anyone could imagine. And I face it daily with no closure or explanation. This is America today for everyone. Whether you realize it or not. I am here where I am after all these years and I mean nothing. My words are of no value. My work is forgotten. I’m a joke on a forum. A person to intimidate. A will to break. A pimple to pop. And yet all I ever do is scar. I never fade. I am a constant reminder. An indelible marking that White society has failed. America has failed. America and freedom is a fucking lie. That’s a hopeless position to be in. And now that I’ve gotten those feelings out of the way. It doesn’t look like I’m moving anytime soon. Or changing the way I feel. But I cannot give up hope for myself and my future. But on the real fuck this country. <3 Tim

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scientifichubris · 4 years

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What made you get into this kind of stuff?

This is super vent-y, but it answers the question. Sorry. I’m feeling open and vulnerable tonight.

Growing up I was treated like a test subject and I’ve always felt like one. I don’t want to talk about the stuff my dad did, but what he’s done to me, and another alter that I eventually fused with last year, contributed to it greatly.

In middle school, I was always the group that was the first to try out anything. They’d make it all cool sounding and snazzy, but if it failed it would be on us not them. It would still be on our record y’know? We were just little kids basing our future on things that weren’t majorly tested because we lived in a poor area that needed funding and that’s how the schools got their money. We’d be the first to do certain classes, specialized programs, and new to-be-standardized testing types. Most of them really sucked and no one really knew how to teach them. It was hard.

In high school, about 22 other students and I were completely and utterly isolated from the entire school because of a high-level program. Even our bell schedule was different. We were nerdy freaks that were the only way the school got any money anymore. This test run was what was funding the school at this point. We didn’t have any sports or even a cafeteria in hot ass Florida so that should tell you that it was a shitty, poor school. The school had no idea how to run the program and I got in during what was their second year of a 4-year for each student program so it was a mess. I could tell you stories for hours about how horribly it was run. It was just a test run and if we were not successful on such high-level shit despite the horrible conditions and complete isolation we wouldn’t get our high school diplomas. It was a full-on nightmare where, yet again, I was the lowly test subject.

I still feel that way even in university. I’ve always been the lab rat or the guinea pig. I always get the new professors or ones that haven’t taught since the 80s so they’re so rusty and don’t get anything yet. The first real “job” I ever got here was to take part in an experiment too. I got paid less than minimum wage for working the hardest I ever had in my life and then got fired halfway through when results weren’t what they were hoping so they lost funding.

It feels hard to escape and always has. It always feels like I’m on the receiving end of a test or some experiment. It sucks.

My first real mental escape from all this was Frankenstein. I first read it when I was 13. I really loved the idea and became instantly obsessive over it. That was probably my first idea of a “mad scientist” since I wasn’t out much back then. I carried it with me everywhere when I was though. Victor didn’t feel like a test subject. He had my loneliness, my depression, my want to self isolate, my stress, my sickness, and my horrid health, but he was able to still make something and do his own tests and creation and his own experiments and he didn’t need any professional to tell him what to do about it. Someone wanted to hear his story. Someone was interested in him as a creator and not a subject and that was something I craved so deeply then. Yes, it caused his downfall and ruined his and other lives, but I was on a huge tragic literature kick and was an edgy little bitch, okay?

During the worst year of my life (yet) in high school, we had to read Frankenstein and everyone else hated it but me. I haven’t felt that alive since I first read it. Discussing it with my teacher, it turned out to be one of her favorite books too, and classmates gave me so much more application and love for the book than ever before. It now meant than it ever had previously. Figuring out each theme, alternative ideas, further connections and connotations to things I finally understood now that I was older… Realizing I was somewhat gay, this book even helped with that. Like, it is so gay and my teacher was a lesbian, so I didn’t feel so alone IRL. It was an even farther escape from what high school felt and the utterly horrible time I was having. I’d think about how great it would be to just create and make and not be, for just once, the test subject. It was, and still is, pathetic how relatable Victor really was.

I later found the Frankenstein community on Tumblr. All the jokes and memes over a book from 1818/1831 filled me with so much joy. I discovered other mad scientists as a result, but nothing really hit the same and as real as Victor felt to me. However, I genuinely liked the idea of exploring it more, so I did. I liked the flashy aesthetics, the bright greens, the glowy stuff, and the cartoonish depictions. The jokes were great, and I actually understood them so that was a major bonus. It was so away from reality and fun and I found looking at it it did calm me down from some things. The addition of my love of science and biology helped too. As weird as this all felt, everyone was really friendly so I thought I’d give it a shot and make this.The community was small, but I felt at home.

I hope this didn’t sound so Villian Monolog. I’m obviously not in it to treat other people like test subjects or to “turn the tables” on those that hurt me. I’m not into torture and that stuff makes me severely uncomfortable as a victim of it myself. I just really like the aesthetics and it takes me out of the hopelessness of the opposite that is my life. Going from feeling like the test subject to pretending to be a cool mad scientist with some wacky goal is just fun. I tried to display this in ZB, who is frankly just me. He went from being a test subject himself, to self-experimentation to extend his own deteriorating life that is due to the prior testing. It’s about me learning more about myself, getting past it and taking control of what happened to me. I guess it isn’t such a wacky or fun goal, but he’s still fun to think about and display in his “””weird””” ways. It brings me a lot of comfort, and I can play out my fears and reality subversions. I will eventually start to distance himself from me, since I have ideas for a story that don’t feel like me at all, but for now, that’s how I feel!

#this got so long im sorry;;;#phonated articulations #ask #torture mention #Anonymous

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kmashblue42-blog · 4 years

Text

Adderall ruined my relationship!! The letter I wrote to the love of my life I was losing.

Our love deteriorated after OUR introduction to Adderall

I want you to know as I’m writing this, I am experiencing emotional waves of helplessness and sorrow. My chest is so tight from trying to hold back tears because my eyes are on fire from another episode of WHATEVER is going on with my body. My eyes are feeling puffy my face is tingling as if someone is pulling my ponytail back and stretching my face beyond its elasticity.. I am literally experiencing SEVERE CONSTANT deep afibs (NOT PALPITATIONS) and I am feeling more lost within myself that I’m scared to go to the emergency room AGAIN because the EKG isn’t picking it up the 1 and a half minutes they are recording it.... I feel forced to sit here outside and talk myself down into not thinking about that I just discovered what I am experiencing is a combination of loosing the man who once ADORED me the way I adored him before our recreational use of Adderall and the fact that i am trapped in a mind that can rationally identify what is happening with my body and the severity of every symptom as well as the correlations of this untreated neglected state with the TOXIC combination of adderall induced depression and anxiety.

I am not able to speak to the one person on this Earth who was interested enough in me and actually believed me when I say I AM SERIOUSLY CONCERNED FOR MYSELF.

I have two girls that need me to survive this and to find ANY hope right now I am not even capable of releasing this dark hopelessness that I have NEVER felt before under any extreme traumatic experience I’ve been though!

I feel trapped in a hypnosis that I feel has defeated me mentally. I am loosing myself at such a rate that I am now depended on the SOLE existence of simple acknowledgement from the one person I could courageously admit to. But you are currently sleeping in a hotel and after my desperate attempt to break through the wall you were talking through on the phone....... you denied me and we hung up.

I am scared to go inside until I collect my self and be able to lay quietly without sobbing next to my girls who have expressed sorrow for me and i can’t bring it to myself to deny them of my love nor show them my sadness.

I am STUCK and I blame Adderall and I can’t unsee what I now see. I have been cursed with an interest in psychology and have retained enough information over years of researching and personal experiences that I CAN NOT unlearn the very thing that is eating me alive. I KNOW what is going on with my body even after a bunch of hit or miss brainstorming and exhausting hours of research in a field I’m NOT familiar with. I KNOW what Adderall has done to us and even if we never touched it again neither one of us can purify what we have already contaminated our love with. We can’t unsee the beast in the beauty because even though we created a chemistry so strong that my love and commitment to you made me wage war within my sole to UNDERSTAND our darknesses laid dormant but our love masked its face... we have now seen that face in each other and it feels irreversible.

It has become the lenses that once was impenetrable and now... after that exposure...it is devastating to feel the confirmation that there is NO spiritual cry of desperation that you can hear of mine anymore.

👁That disconnection from me and your denial itself....has robbed ME from being able to convince MYSELF that even in my darkest moments THERE IS NO ESCAPE from the inevitable.

This is dark and deep I know, but every word my mind has dispatched to my fingers is the strongest and purest form of communication I can give you. I am not suicidal, I am not demented, I am not simply overwhelmed with thoughts I that I can but refuse to cut off.... I am genuinely lost. I’m lost with my body and it’s alerts, my mind and it’s clarity even in the darkest moments, my maternal instinct prison demanding compliance, my what once was an indestructible light and now I miss the feeling of knowing at our worst moments I have your understanding that we carry the same darkness but it did not over power the determination of our love.

I took a moment to sob and my face doesn’t feel like I’m having a fucking allergic reaction again... that itself... what is happening on top of all this other fucking odd undesirable shit is still a mystery. I just don’t care anymore to try and find out. I just trust that if I start to not be able to breath again my mind shuts down and my body takes over to calm itself. I feel a little better now.

To continue where I left off before my break. I miss you! (here comes the fucking tears now.. less restricting and a bit warmer) Just Bare with me through this, I’m literally telling myself I’m talking to you and it’s helping me some..

I miss your twinkle in your eyes. I miss the deepness behind them, the space no one but I can look into... past the beauty that traps a gaze and doesn’t allow entrance. The smile in your wrinkles on those eyes that show their years of denial you have put them through. You can’t deny them anymore and they speak to me. Your finger tips that can penetrate 30 years of skin that has touched a lifetime of earth and yet surfs on every nerve tickling each one with a constant reminder that they are not hidden from your love. I miss the feeling of knowing you are being dishonest and your eyes are scanning for hope I won’t see behind them and me leaning in begging for the moment I can see you courage to finally submit to honesty.. that moment I get that I can exhale with confidence that you are still mine and you have accepted that I love you unconditionally and can understand you only when you are at your purest form. Then and only then am I released from the undeniable compliance to dance with your darkness. You open up to me and I forgive you instantaneously.

I miss the colors of the tones only you have a key to unlocking. I miss them so bad, they are tones that my inner child has been deprived from my entire life and can only be seen through your happiness. I miss the focus you give me when I say your name, the fixation on the tone of seduction or fear. The same fixation you have shown me through intimacy. The confidence you infect me with and so effortlessly. I miss you missing me in these ways I miss you. I know that with any of our previous trials, regardless of manner, origin or intensity that our love could not be penetrated until we allowed Adderall into our lives. I’m not talking about the chemical formulated into an latter form of a tablet. I’m talking about the control of our limitations. The slow consumption of our subconscious that kept us from allowing our darkness to take light for the other to see. The parasite that attached itself and once allowed, without boundary now....Able to come and go as needed tearing each other apart with our tongues and disgust. Speaking to each other in such manner that seemed natural in that come down state after excessive use of what we thought was enlightening us.... the come down of Adderall. I miss the moment I cried to you in the bathroom when I looked into your black dilated eyes searching for my safe haven and couldn’t get access too, being forced to expand my vision to see the shrinkage in my beautiful mans facial structure... the moment I became scared of a darkness I have seen in my past that constantly preyed on my defeat. That moment I cried and called into you and you cried out back to me. The moment I found courage to not run and demand your innocence back to protect me... I wish I would have said more and I wish I would have declared more so we would have never touched it again. That was the moment I knew regardless of the deepest darkest appearance of something that has taken so much from me... and stunned my core like a cold coma ...had no control over the love my man had for me!

I forced myself to find courage to be so vulnerable to you that I could allow you to transform me into the soulmate you were destined to create with me. And I fought so hard to try and demanded you to acknowledge that you loved me more than the darkness I was seeing and experiencing throughout the past 6 months that I forgot I wasn’t speaking to you with the same tongue. That in fact, I was speaking the same language you were speaking through Adderall. Our highs and lows, our filth to each other, our resistance that became the shield over our clarity. I was infected with the same dark parasite that I was trying to convince you you had. And in turn, opened up the one thing I could never take back..... my innocence to you. YOUR kryptonite. So you see.. EVERYTHING around us reminds me of the beauty we have created so magically..and created such a comfort with your presence that HOME is felt and not just said for me and my girls.... now reminds me of what we have destroyed TOGETHER.

I miss you so much it’s tearing me apart internally and I feel like I am now succumbing to the reality that I have no control of nothing in my body or my mind because I lost the control to defend our love even against my own defeater. I have to live every moment with the understanding that I can not escape to your comfort anymore from the fear of life even with my weakest cries.

I love you like I love the craving to touch the dewy clover patch from the morning sunrise.

Like the taste of the letters from long anticipated book creased open for the first time.

I love you like I love the rivers in my hands that I have stared at every day of my life with pride. Watching them grow deeper. The bends and breaks from every movement that now has purpose, reason for forming through years of wear meant to protect the nerves that only you were meant to activate.

I loved you more than I have loved myself and by doing so has made me aware, that by not only loosing you I have now lost myself. Because the idea now of happiness and all the beauty that I require to create that happiness is only accessible through the love I saw I gave you.

I love how you take movement and time away when you look back at me from a distance, just long enough to tickle my adolescence. Creating an internal countdown defaulting as the hand never moves..until I can see you again.

I love the way your face changes it’s structure to caress mine so softly that my jaw is forced to relax to feel its warmth. Feeling your touch demanding it’s presence in the most delicate form without negotiation. You have always controlled my body line a puppet.

I miss the you I thought I was protecting by demanding you to endure cleansing that I thought would force you to recognize failure towards me but actually I was creating self preservation by pushing you to the point of jumping that I had not first secured with comfort. You slipped away Further each time I demanded closeness through admission of guilt.

I miss you and I’m sorry for the deepness but I do feel like now I can breathe a little bit better and can go to bed with the girls now. I’m scared and I’m lonely.... I’m companied with everything we have created and everything I crave and I felt compelled to tell you how I felt even in the most novel way in hopes for you to understand the wickedness I see has been shown. And I am sorry for allowing you to see the part of me that was never meant to be seen and I’m sorry that has also allowed me to bring out that part of you as well. I do not omit what has been said and done to me from you but I am forced to acknowledge even the deepest regrets that I have......... that I allowed myself to provoke that darkness within you and that is my failure as well.

I’m taking a smoke intermission before closing.

I’m going my ass to bed. I’ve had enough of everything and to be honest I wish I could wake up and you be here outside waiting on me with coffee like the old times forcing me to smile so big my dry lips chap from just waking up.

The reality is I’m just STUCK. You know... now that I write it all down.. I guess it must be a lot like how MawMaw Sue got stuck, in the last memories that mattered the most, that could never be recovered after her love and her life and everything she gave herself to had been tainted by darkness. I don’t want to end up like that. Where you’r stuck in a loop of reality of stolen identity. Stolen by something not of your Pureness.

Like Adderall... and our relationship after it.

#adderall #adderallruinedmyrelationship #whattheydonttellyou #thedevilspill #lovedrugged #drugs #neverwilliever #regretfulspeeding #relationship #lost

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yuri-n-love · 5 years

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So, about real hopeless love...

Story time, everyone. Because I’m tormenting myself :’)

Many moons ago when I was a wee lass in middle school, there was this girl. I can remember clearly the first time we started to talk, too. I always saw her on the bus and wanted to get to know her, for curiosity sake. I wanted friends and I saw her draw on the bus. I wanted to see more of her art too! She was so good! At the time, I had no clue what was in store for me, see... I had no clue I could even hold any special feelings for females. I just assumed I was a heterosexual female because I never felt anything much for females. One fateful day, she sat next to me on the bus. My anxiety was freeeeaaaking out because I really wanted to talk to her!! She was drawing and I finally worked up the courage to compliment her art. I don’t remember what she was drawing, but I still remember a little bit of what she was wearing, haha. I complimented her drawing and said she was really good... and from on then, we became friends!! I was so happy. I had made a friend that lived near me and we had a lot in common. We both liked Creepypasta and anime and spooky stuff... We really just clicked. It was great. We had made a little fort in the woods and I’d always walk to her house to hang out and we hung out a looooooot. One day at my house, we were sitting outside and she confessed to me. She confessed she had a crush on me... And I was so foolish. I regret how I responded to it now. It haunts me. I was dumbfounded and a little confused on how I should react. I loved spending time with her but I was straight! I don’t remember my exact words, but I just told her that I wasn’t interest in females. Time went on and we stayed really good friends... Some time later, we started doing some intimate things... I guess I was curious enough to figure out for myself what I could be interested in. I started feeling different things around her and we kissed, saw each other naked, and stared into each other’s eyes. I never once told her how I could feel about her. I didn’t even think I had any feelings for her at the time probably. Then some more time later and we got in trouble. We had planned to run away and do criminal like things along the way. We were found out. Our parents were furious and it split us apart. I hated it. I was so upset. I wanted to be with her so badly. I would do anything for her. We didn’t talk for a while, obviously. But maybe a couple years later or more, we started talking again in high school. I found her in high school and I couldn’t believe it!! I was so so so excited!! I wanted to talk to her again... I really wanted to hear her voice and laugh again. I knew someone in my art class who was her friend. I gradually started to talk to that person to figure out more about my old friend and figure out how I could meet her again. Then it happened... I met her again. I was so happy... absolutely happy. But things felt so different. I had become jealous. She and the other girl were really good friends, and it drove me craaaaazy! I remember feeling so miserable all by myself just because she was laughing and talking so casually with this other girl. I was frustrated and kept thinking to myself, “Don’t you like me???” Foolish. I was so foolish. We drifted apart again after some time... And I kept thinking about her. She opened my eyes to the fact that I was romantically and sexually drawn to girls as well. She showed me a part of myself that I never knew was there. I never did get into a relationship with another girl, though. I could only ever get guys. Every guy seemed to just be so into me and I wanted to find comfort in my life and yes it’s messed up to use a relationship for that but... I was scarred by a lot of things. Mentally not okay. So I kept getting into relationships with guys and they all ended horribly. But the worst thing on my end... is that I never stopped thinking about her. I realized I was in love with her. /Absolutely in love with her./ I’d tell these guys I loved them but it wasn’t love. I wasn’t in love with them. I just wanted the intimacy to make me feel better about life. But /oh my gosh/ was she on my mind!!! I would search her on Facebook again and again to look through her pictures... I missed her so so much. I felt miserable that I couldn’t talk to her. I wanted to so badly but... how could I? I was ruled by anxiety then. 100%. She had moved far away, I learned... I was so upset. I lost her. I lost her really bad. I cried about it. I really did. If only I had realized my feelings for her earlier. If only when she confessed to me, I had my head out of my ass and told her I liked her too and we could’ve started something. If only... If only... If only I wasn’t so stupid to who I was. Who I /truly/ was. I’ve always lived my life worried about what others think of me and what society thinks. What’s “normal.” Fuck that. I’m over that. I’m true to myself now. I know what I like and who I am. And if people say otherwise or put me down, fuck them. I’ll stand my ground because the only way to find happiness is to be true to yourself.

So I came over my anxiety... I messaged her a few or more days ago. At first I tried her Facebook... but the messages didn’t deliver. I was afraid I had lost her completely... I really felt I screwed up so bad. I really wanted to reach her. I looked at her art that she had on her Facebook and looked at the watermark on them. I was able to find her on DeviantART. I was so excited!! I saw she had previously posted art, she was active on the site! So I shot her a message on DA... at 4 am. I went to sleep grinning like an idiot haha. And that morning I woke up and got on DA, I saw I had a note. My heart stopped. I just... Holy shit. I was so excited. I clicked on it so fast and opened it and sure enough, it was a reply from her. I was so thrilled to see she messaged me back... I was able to get her new Facebook from her and I stated messaging her on that. I feel nervous about it though... So nervous. I type so much to her because I’m genuinely excited! And compared to her messages, I feel like mine are too much. I feel like I’m annoying and a nuisance. To type so much to her... And I tell her how much I /love/ her art and I really do... but what I also really /love/... I want to tell her so bad. But I can’t. That’s selfish. I learned I need to be selfish to be happy and be true to myself, but this time... I’m reverting back to my anxiety and I feel I have no right to love her. I feel I have no right to confess to her now. It’s be like... 4 years or so since we last talked. And I don’t know anything about her new life. What right do I have to suddenly just drop in and let her know I love her? I feel so awful about it. Even now... She literally just now messaged me back and all I want to do is tell her how much I feel. I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I do know I’m happy to talk to her again... Thank all of you who spent time to read this. Maybe I’ll be able to follow it up with something happy some day... maybe not. Only time will tell.

#story #story time #long #so long #gay thoughts #love #life

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