Can't wait what horrors they are gonna put the doctor thru this time

The story so far

One month after graduating high school in 2015 I was finally able to move away from my family. I was 18 and moved to California for college. Fortunately one of the scholarships I earned was accompanied by a summer program that started in the middle of the summer before fall semester. Shortly after settling in a safe, stable environment for the first time in my life I started to get better. A lot better at first. Then life happened, as it does, and 18 years of repressed trauma and abuse broke me. My nervous breakdown ruined my fall semester, I couldn't go to classes or take exams or function as a student anymore. Until this point, being an exceptional student was all I had and basically how I survived. My safe and stable environment now was dependant on maintaining a certain GPA, among other requirements I could no longer meet. I failed one of my main courses because I had a 0 on 2 exams, including the final. When I went home I was put on antipsychotics. Returning to campus for the 2016 spring semester, I attempted to seek more therapy. I wasn't successful in finding a good therapist (for me, therapy is a personal thing. Just because someone isn't a good therapist for me doesn't necessarily mean they are a bad therapist). I did continue to see my 2 psychiatrists (emergency and regular) often as they attempted to adjust my medication to find something that work. My agoraphobia worsened, I stopped sleeping, I could barely eat, I was manic one moment and dissociative the next, SH and suicidal ideation worsened. I was a burden to my friends and loved ones. I made it through this because I had a beautiful support system that I will forever be grateful for, but I ended up taking a leave of absence academically for my second semester, earning no credits and putting my scholarships at further jeopardy. I was allowed to stay on campus because it was clear I was dangerously unstable with no safe environment to return to and because I had incredible advocates looking out for me. I had realized that I wasn't going to get better in time to salvage my academic career and my life, and was mostly clueless as to how I would survive. I had had an internship in my field since I started college, but I earned basically no money. STEM internships aren't really made to be livable for undergrads, so I had mostly been working for experience in a field I would no longer be able to progress in. Bummer. My physical health had taken a huge dive for all of 2016. I basically always knew I was chronically ill, but I had been abused and gaslit my entire life to believe and act like I was fine, I was just a weak baby, I didn't know what real pain or suffering was, seizures were to be ignored, no I didn't have migraines or pinched nerves (um hello SCOLIOSIS), etc etc. And 2016 was the year my body finally started to break, so I knew "regular" jobs weren't going to be a viable option for me, at least not for long.

And thus I became a survival SW. I stayed in college for a final semester, because I didn't want to miss my friends, I loved my campus and didn't know where else to live, I still needed a lot of campus resources. I also kept my internship as long as I could, because I knew I would miss it for the rest of my life. I didn't really go to classes, again, because as much as a desperately wanted to and as much as my advisors moved heaven and earth to try to make it work for me, I couldn't handle it. I was finally able to find 2 great therapists who I started seeing regularly who actually knew how to diagnose and treat me, one at school and one outside. This is also when I met Daddy (Jace) online. After talking for what is probably a stupidly short time, we fell in love and started dating. This is honestly my first real relationship and time actually catching genuine feelings for someone, something that I hadn't thought I was capable of. Despite being happier than I had ever been in so many ways, my mental and physical health was still steadily declining. My migraines and pain were getting worse, I hadn't been able to eat normally in months and relied entirely on medication to eat or sleep at all. Many people recommended mmj at this point in my life, but I was afraid of how it would interact with my other meds. I only smoked occasionally at parties at this point (because no way was I spending my super duper limited money on weed). I wonder if medicating with something that actually worked well for me, like weed, would have allowed me to finish college. Oh well I guess. Because of my inability to attend classes, I had to take another leave for the fall semester 2016. I worked at a strip club briefly, but my health couldn't handle it for long.

I didn't want to go home for the first winter break in 2015, but campus closed and I had nowhere else to go. It was turbulent. When summer 2016 came, I still didn't go home despite having no place to stay. Until a month or so later, it was revealed to me a relative had terminal cancer. I had to go home again. It was worse than turbulent. When winter 2016 came, my relative was in much worse condition. They only had a few months left, and this was probably my last chance to say goodbye. This visit was by far the most traumatic, and more because of my parents than watching a loved one die. At least Jace was able to come meet me for the first time in person. He also got to meet my relative before they passed 🖤

Freshly fucked up by family, I retuned to California at the beginning of 2017. I was mostly taking a break from SW because of my health and was working vanilla jobs as I could (so not much). I had a pretty decent job that I was really good at and had been promoted, but then my relative passed. I started losing consciousness again ( I had many seizures and fainting spells in my childhood and during high school) and had to quit my job. the funeral was in spring 2017, I flew to Jersey to be with Daddy for a few days and then he drove me several states over for the memorial. That was the last time I saw my family. I wanted to transition to online/content creating, but I had no tech knowledge or equipment (even my phone was a potato). In high school I wasn't allowed to have a smartphone, most social media other than what was heavily monitored (and still had 0 experience with platforms sw is popular on besides Tumblr I guess), I didn't really know much about cameras. Way too sheltered and broken to feel like I could start anything. I was now seeing my outside, or I guess regular and only, therapist twice a week and doing treatments that while working for me were insanely (literally) hard. I had been able to get an apartment with roommates at a super discount in return for taking care of their crazy dog, which was a win win for me (he was a good boi just crazy from a bad past and had the worst separation anxiety). The agreement was that I would live with them until the lease was up in September, and then we would reevaluate the situation. Then they both got promoted at their mega corporation jobs. And after their wedding found a really gorgeous apartment in a much fancier part of the city, and paid to break our lease early in June leaving me homeless. I had been fired from my last 2 jobs (probably for being disabled because California is at will employment but who knows I might have been fired from the nanny job because the husband wanted to fuck me). I had no money or anywhere to go. All of my friends were almost as broke as me, so while I had offers to couchsurf at a few of their places they had other roommates who would have been pissed and in a few months they would be going back to school anyways. Daddy and I had been trying to save up to move in together for months, but he was going to move to California. We didn't have any money for that, so instead he asked me to move in with him in New Jersey. Leaving meant I lost my health insurance and my therapist. It was supposed to be much more temporary and we were supposed to move back to California much sooner than we were able to. I try not to be mad at those roommates because being angry doesn't change anything, but it really sucked.

Moving in with Daddy meant we could start our blog! And I was super happy at first, the happiest I could ever remember. But the years had been too hard and my health started to get worse than ever before. Without treatment and so traumatized, my brain and body were constantly at war. I would wake with splitting migraines, throwing up, my chronic pain became completely unmanageable. I started to need weed all the time because it was the only thing that stopped my cyclical vomiting episodes and kept me out of the hospital. My antipsychotics and other meds had been high-key fucking me up (probably shouldn't have been on them in the first place, thank you doctor who also ignored my seizures even when I had one in front of you) and were almost impossible to come off of because the withdrawals. (Seriously, kicking xanax was easier for me than my antipsychotics.) I'm not anti medication or anything, I just know the ones I was on were not good for me anymore. I'd actually like to be on something again, I just need a doctor who actually understands PTSD and DID.

My health continued to be shit for most of 2018, with several ER visits for severe dehydration from vomiting for days on end. We started to make videos and do snapchat and online sessions to be able to make ends meet. Despite being in the worst situation and thus everything being a trizillion times harder, we really loved (and still love 😇) doing SW and creating content. Our fans and clients have been there in some of our darkest moments, just being lovely or pulling through for us when we needed it most. During 2018 and 2019 I became actively suicidal for the first time since I was 13. I struggled with self harm again. I have gotten worse than I ever thought possible. But I wouldn't have made it at all if it wasn't for SW, this community and our supporters.

At the beginning of 2020 we were finally able to move back to California. Obviously, the pandemic severely disrupted many of our plans, especially regarding my recovery. Despite things being delayed or shifted, we are in a much better place currently. I have what I need to get better and I can build a support system again. I will get better.

Talking about things is hard for me. Being open and honest is hard for me. For 18 years I was trained and abused to not be sad or show negative feelings, or talk about upsetting things, and it has been killing me slowly my entire life. I genuinely don't want pity or to make others feel bad, but I do want to give you the chance to get to know me. I don't always talk about things so much. But I'm trying to get better at it.

A letter and apology to the rping community

I really wanted to kick this blog off with a more lighthearted post, but I feel like before I can move on and even get back into the rping scene there is something very important I need to explain and a really big apology is in order.

I used to be badparp. Yes, I used to run that blog where I would roast people for being rude to other rpers. You know the one.

Anyway, there are a lot of rumors going around about me right now. Some of them are true and some of them are not. I am going to tell the story of what actually happened and the circumstances surrounding everything. I need to come clean about all of it.

Keep in mind my memories from this time are a bit hazy because there are a lot of things my brain is closing me off from remembering about that time period, but I remember what went down mostly and I remember the bad things I did and how I wronged the rping community.

When I got into the rping community hard I was 17 years old at the time. It was the worst year of my life and I was coming to terms with a lot of things. I had freshly developed trauma that would later become PTSD and I was forced to go live with my abusive parent who would starve me, emotionally abuse me, and sometimes beat me.

I was also slowly starting to come to terms with my gender, but I had not fully realized what it was yet. This led to me getting harassed online constantly by TERFs who would send me death threats and suicide bait me when I already wanted to die so badly.

I was also trying to figure out my sexuality at the time. This led to me experimenting A LOT. I was looking up porn constantly and I was also trying to figure out what kinks I did or did not have. Previously I had been in a more healthy situation to do it with love and support, but because I was shoved into living with an abuser who did not care about me at all as anything but a punching bad and a servant, I closed myself off and was forced to experiment largely on my own with only the help of a few other teenagers that were not...the most informed.

This led me into getting into NSFW rping as a teenager. I did not know it was wrong at the time because no one had told me and no one would tell me for years, but I still did it.

And I got good at it. I got attention. I got people that actually thought I could do well and that I was good at something. After being told to die so much for my gender stuff and after being abused at home, this felt good in ways that are unimaginable. I absolutely drank up the attention. I kept pushing myself more and more and trying out kinks that were things I was uncomfortable with, but willing to force myself to do so that I would gain the respect of other rpers and I could keep getting the attention and praise I was missing in my life. I kept telling myself it was ok. It was an rp so it was ok right?

Other rpers started contacting me. Other rpers started soliciting me for things. But there were some people that did not like my rps and often rightfully called me on my stuff. This made me absolutely enraged because how dare they insult the thing that was giving me the only positive attention in my life. How dare they?

These people were what others were calling SJWs at the time. The same people also would call the TERFs SJWs. I figured that these people were just like them and that I should fight them because they were bad and evil and lashed out at people and hated them. Some of them took things way too far and that pretty much cemented in my young traumatized mind that these people were the bad guys and I should hate people like them.

So it pulled me down another rabbit hole and I became an edgy anti SJW. I would lash out and get into drama constantly. The drama made me feel like I could be right about something in the world when I was constantly being told that I was wrong.

Along the way I started making friends that were also anti SJWs. Some of them were good people that were misguided like I was. Some of them were wolves in sheep's clothing trying to convert people to the right.

At one point I joined a group of fellow NSFW rper anti SJWs. This was the point where the coercing me into NSFW rps started to get very focused and very disturbing even if I couldn’t see it at the time.

These people absolutely knew I was an underage rper. They told me there was nothing wrong with it and I was ok. They kept encouraging me to do more and more of it. I kept sending them links to my private blog where they could read my rps. These were adults. These were adults and they absolutely knew what they were doing. I was being groomed and I had no idea because I had always assumed being groomed meant having to send nudes and stuff. I was cocky and I thought I was safe.

They also kept egging me on with more and more drama and getting deeper and deeper into the anti SJW community. I would get angry more often. I would keep being more and more sympathetic to fucked up right wing views. I would fight constantly. And it hurt. It hurt so badly. But I needed it. I needed to feel good again and feel like I was right. Just like I needed the praise I got from my rps.

It kept going like this for a while. I kept getting worse and worse and going more and more down.

It only started to change when I met someone that could pull me out of it. He didn’t attack me. He didn’t accuse me of being a terrible person and tell me to go die. He calmly talked to me and he listened. As he listened he started to slowly become my voice of reason, asking me questions about whey I thought certain things were true.

As I kept talking to him, I started to question things too. I started to question if what was happening was really ok. If it was really right. I started to engage less and less in drama. The more I pulled away the better I started to feel because I actually had someone to support me and care about me now that was not as confused as I was.

It eventually got the the point where I realized that I had legitimately been a horrible person. I felt crazy amounts of guilt over what happened and I decided to delete all of my blogs because I didn’t want to be that person anymore. The person who ran badparp and justified really messed up things and always wanted attention and drama was dead. I was an adult and I wasn’t an edgy teenager anymore.

I spent a few more years feeling horrific guilt over what happened. There were countless people that I must have said horrible things to and I had unwillingly become a tool to spread a narrative to the community that was wrong, but I had still done it and I could not undo that.

It’s been a very long time though. I am getting therapy now. I am away from my abuser. I am happily married to the person that saved me from who I used to be and pulled me out of the horrible pit I was slowly being dragged down into that was turning me into a monster.

I don’t fight anyone online anymore. I don’t like fighting with people at all anymore at all. I no longer consider myself an anti SJW and I no longer defend the awful things that I did back then. I am slowly starting to heal.

But Homestuck and the good not toxic rps that I did have will always have a special place in my heart and I don’t think I can ever get rid of that.

So this blog is my apology to the community and the fandom for the person I was back then and I want it to be proof that people can change and rping does not have to be about toxicity, drama, and fighting. The more people fight the more people like me back then will be driven into the arms of people that want to hurt them.

I want this to be a happy lighthearted blog where people can post funny rps that they have and share them with others. I want to promote a new mindset for rping that is about something good.

I can’t undo the things I did or said, but I can try to change and be a better person and build something new.