#if this is what the rest of inpatient is like i have no clue how it helps anyone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

papercorgiworld · 3 months

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I don't want you to be my girlfriend

Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo, Tom, Theodore and Draco

There’s a big misunderstanding concerning your future together.

Warning: no warning, just a very fluffy fluff thingy

This was brought to you thanks to this request, but I must apologize I changed some details, but I guess the essential plot is stil there. If you spot an error that hurts your brain, let me know and save another reader. And as per usual, my darling readers happy readings! I love you all, big time!

“When we graduate things are going to change. I have big plans.” You hear your boyfriend’s voice and feel yourself get all giddy, convinced that you are part of these big plans, but suddenly you stop in your tracks. “I mean (y/n) isn’t going to be my girlfriend forever.” Next, there's silence. “Are you sure?” You hear Pansy ask and with a pounding heart you listen to your boyfriend’s answer. “Yeah. Never been so sure of anything in my life. She won’t be my girlfriend for long anymore. Things change.”

Without making a single sound you turn down the stairs of the astronomy tower. Tears streaming down your face. You were so in love with him. All the two of you did lately was talk about your future together. When did he stop loving me? Did he ever love me at all?

The next morning you looked like crap. You looked like someone who had been crying all night, which is exactly what had happened. So you skipped breakfast and just went to class where you spent your time staring in front of you and avoiding your boyfriend’s gaze at all costs. He watched you from a few seats away. When he grew inpatient waiting for you to look at him he enchanted a little note and sent it to you, but to his horror you just looked at the folded paper laying on your desk without opening it, before returning to look at the professor.

He truly doesn’t know how you managed to, but after class you just disappeared. He had immediately gotten up and walked towards you and yet you had somehow snuck past him through the other students. He picked up the unopened note he had sent you and felt his heart ache. First you didn’t show up at the astronomy tower last night, then you skipped breakfast and now you were obviously avoiding him. What did I do? I hate it when I don’t know what I did? Bad joke? Forgot about a date? Salazar, what if I did something so bad that she’s breaking up with me?

He had searched every nook and cranny of the castle to find you, which was quite a lot of work, but to no avail. I don’t even know where she’s hiding? Have we somehow grown apart without me even noticing? I’m such a shit boyfriend, I’m gonna lose the love of my life.

Defeated, he walked back to the slytherin common room when one last possible hiding spot came to mind. How did I not check there earlier?

Blaise

There you sat curled up doodling in your journal, back resting against the whomping willow. “Really not the safest spot to be. The tree gets mad from time to time.” He startles you and for a moment you stare at him with wide eyes, before relaxing. As soon as you process that it’s Blaise you roll your eyes. “Oh, really? After seven years at this school I really had no clue.” Your sarcasm is almost like venom and makes Blaise’s smile disappear. In silence he joins you, sitting too close to your liking so you move an inch away and he lets his head fall back in annoyance with your childish behavior. “I have no idea what I did, but I’m sorry, I always am when I hurt you.” His voice is soft and his hand reaches for yours, keeping you from scribbling in your notebook.

You shake your head in disbelief. How could he be sorry, when he was planning on breaking up with you. You feel tears welling up and grit your teeth in an attempt to hold them back. “When we talked about our garden together, which plants and trees we would prefer and that there needed to be a little bench… I thought you meant it. I thought you really wanted that with me.” At your words he moves a bit away from the tree to face you properly. “I do. I do want all of those things. You know that. We were just talking about our future together yesterday morning. What makes you think I wouldn’t want that with you?”

Your eyes are angry. How dare he lie like this. “I heard you last night at the astronomy tower. You want to break up with me. You had big plans and I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend anymore.” Blaise stares for a moment, before chuckling and looking away. “Unbelievable, you seriously had me worried for a moment.” All your anger subsides and confusion takes over, eyebrows knitting together. “You won’t be my girlfriend forever, (y/n), because I have other plans for you.” Blaise explains, but you still don’t catch on to what he’s hinting at. “Darling, I bought a ring.” Your eyes widen and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. “That’s what I was talking about. I showed it to everyone last night.” With shaky hands you put your notebook aside and move a little closer to your boyfriend. “An engagement ring?” Blaise nods and smiles as he adores your utterly confused face. “After we graduate, on a random date, when you don’t see it coming I’m gonna pop the question.”

Even though you were sitting in front of him he’s still surprised when you suddenly wrap your arms around his neck. “Spoiler alert, I'm gonna say yes.” You whisper all giddy and he responds by hugging you tighter than ever. Gods, I hope so, because I really love you.

Mattheo

Mattheo sighs, relieved that he’s finally found you. Sitting against the whomping willow with your knees pressed against your chest and headphones on, probably listening to the same four sad songs on repeat. He watches you from afar for a moment as he worries about what’s gotten you so upset and worse why you haven’t come to find him for consolidation yet. Even when you were angry with him you came to him to figure it out. You rarely closed yourself off for so long as you had done today and it frightened Mattheo.

Quietly he walks over to you and as soon as you spot him you turn to look away from him, making Mattheo almost reach for his chest. He decides to lean against the tree next to you, giving you some space as you’re still sitting curled up on the ground. The silence between you two is excruciating. Soundless tears run down your cheeks as you realize that this might be the last moment between you two. As painful as the silence is, Mattheo wants to give you time to start talking, it’s only when he hears you sob that he loses his patience and immediately gets down on his knees next to you. He takes off your headphones and looks at you with soft eyes. “I beg you, please, talk to me.” His fingers brush your cheeks and you savor the moment of his touch, before speaking up.

“It’s cruel Matt, making someone believe in a future together, while you’re planning a break up. I mean who does that. Yesterday morning we were arguing about marriage or kids first and in the evening you’re telling everyone that you don’t want me to be your girlfriend.” A pathetic sob escapes you and Mattheo opens his mouth, but you cut in before he can say anything. “I still love you, you know. I still want that future with you. Did I scare you away or something?” Mattheo’s heart squeezes at your painful sobs. Scare me away? How can you think of something like that? “No, no, you could never scare me away.” Mattheo wants to hold you, but you softly push his hand away. “Then tell me, what did I do wrong? Why are we breaking up?” Mattheo stares at you in disbelief, not following at all. “We aren’t. We’re never-”

“I heard you, Matt, last night at the astronomy tower. I heard you say that I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend for long.” Something changes in the way Mattheo looks at you, but you can’t quite capture it, he looks almost disappointed. “Wow. Definitely not how I planned it, but okay.” Mattheo says dryly, but also amused. There’s this sweet mischievous glimmer in his eyes that calms you, but also has you frowning. He searches in his pocket, obviously being enchanted, it takes him a while to find what he’s looking for and you stare at him in confusion as he makes a funny face. “Matt-” He shushes you and you study him carefully as he moves from sitting on both knees to resting on one knee, before pulling out a tiny box.

“If it’s up to me, (y/n), you will no longer be my girlfriend, because I want you to marry me.” You quickly shake your head and sit up a bit straighter to check if you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. Slowly, his free hand reaches to open the flannel ring box. “So (y/n) (y/l/n), will you marry me?” Your mouth opens as you stare at the ring, before looking at Mattheo whose smile is filled with love. You nod, ignoring the elegant and shiny ring, you lunge towards him and he wraps his arms around you. He quickly closes the box to keep the ring safe, before kissing you passionately. When you break apart, your foreheads rest against each other. “The answer’s yes by the way.” You whisper with flustered eyes. Mattheo licks his lip, smirking at the beautiful fiance in his arms. “I assumed that much.” He said, eyes shining with happiness. “But, dear future wife, don’t you ever assume silly things again, like maybe me dumping you. Never going to happen, understand?” Sheepishly you chew your lip, embarrassed with your own dramatics. When you nod, his smile grows brighter and leans in for another passionate kiss.

Enzo

As soon as Lorenzo spotted you, he came running towards the whomping willow, though carefully watching the tree so as not to get attacked by it. You were just laying on the ground staring up at the sky and the tree, but you knew Enzo was coming your way. You had been together for so long you could hear it was him just by his footsteps. You took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the weight on your chest, knowing that your relationship would all be over soon. With a happy smile Enzo’s face comes into your view as he stands next to you looking down at you. “Found you.” He quips rather proud of himself and you snort. Joking before breaking up that’s just rude. Did our relationship really mean nothing?

When Lorenzo notices your displeasure with his presence he kneels down next to you. “Everything alright?” He asks with a soft, worried voice as he scans your face for any hints. You chew your lip for a moment before sitting up, eyes wandering around, avoiding Enzo. “I really looked forward to it.” Enzo frowns and sits down next to you, his arm brushing yours. Before he can ask for an explanation, you continue. “Cooking together every evening. Going to bed together. Waking up and arguing in the bathroom, but making up at the breakfast table. You were going to make that boring adult everyday routine fun, you would make everyday worth it.” Lorenzo drops his head, looking down. She’s breaking up with. He heard you struggle to keep yourself from sobbing and looked back up.

He wasn’t just gonna let you break up with him. He grabbed both of your hands and pulled you towards him, now your teary eyes were forced to meet his. “Darling, whatever dumb thing I did, I love you too much to have done it on purpose, so please just talk to me.” You narrow your eyes at him, confused by what he was saying. You sniffle and he wraps an arm around your head pulling towards him, forcing you to rest on his shoulder for a moment. “Please, don’t break up with me.” Your boyfriend whispers, before placing a soft kiss on your temple. You pull away and look at him. “I don’t want to break up with you, you’re the one that’s done with our relationship.” Enzo’s eyes widen and his mouth drops a bit. “Wha- why? Why would you say something so ridiculous!” He sounds almost angry with you for suggesting something so outrageous.

You frown and bite back. “Don’t play dumb, Berkshire! I heard you last night at the astronomy tower talking to all your friends and Pansy, who’s my friend by the way, about how I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend for long anymore. Hah!” You point at him, thinking you’ve cornered him, figured out all his lies, but he doesn’t look impressed at all. “Oh right, right… but tell me, darling, if I’m planning on breaking up with you then… uhm, why did I spend a ridiculous amount of money on an engagement ring?” With one swift move he presents you a small velvet ring box and judges you, before quickly tucking it back into his pocket. Your mouth just hangs agape as you watch him put the ring box away. “Miss I-have-it-all-figured-out, do you have any other crazy assumptions? Maybe you think I bought that for one of my other girlfriends-” You give him a soft push and he smiles at your flustered face.

“Break up with you? Have you lost it? Gods, I’m marrying an idiot.” Lorenzo laughs and pulls you onto his lap. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Enzo bought an engagement ring. “Marrying an idiot? Enz, I haven’t said yes.” You say, attempting to sound composed and he grins at you. “That’s because you haven’t seen the ring, yet.” You snake an arm around his neck. “So show me.” You brush your nose against his and he smirks, happy that you're eager to see the ring and say yes. Enzo steals a tender kiss from you before moving his lips to your ear. “I don’t think so.” You look at him with curious eyes and he explains himself. “I have this whole thing planned and it’s already bad enough that you know I’m going to propose. I don’t need you knowing about anything else I have in store for you.” Merlin, I love him. Desperately your lips crash into his, passionately kissing your future husband as he holds you tight.

Tom

He studies you from afar as you focus on your journal. He adores your elegant figure, small against the great whomping willow. He approaches you with a featherlight step and you don’t notice him until he speaks up with a serious tone. “You had me worried. Disappearing for a whole day.” Your heart jumps as his sudden presence startles you and you quickly close your journal. When you look up he notices your exhausted eyes and crouches down to your level. His fingers brushing your jawline before grabbing a hold of your chin as you try to turn away from him. With a firm grip he forces you to meet his eyes. “Have you been crying, dear?” Your eyes go dead at his question. “Don’t pretend to care. I know you’re breaking up with me.”

Your voice is cold and your words catch him off guard, dropping his hand and studying your face. “When we talked about traveling the world, I thought it was going to be you and me. Searching for the boundaries of magic, you and me… always.” His face goes cold as tears visually well up in your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me. I don’t understand. I thought we were happy.” Now you can no longer hold your tears back, instantly your hands cover your face and Tom grits his teeth at the sound of your sobbing. “Enough.” He says sternly, grabbing your hands and making you look at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your silly little head, but I’m not breaking up with you, not now, not ever!”

He can spot a glimmer of hope in your eyes at his words and he sighs. “Quite to the contrary, actually. I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with you and I want to make it official.” You swallow and shake your head a little as you remember last night's words. “But- but I heard you talk yesterday evening… you said I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend forever.” Tom’s lips form a line and he cups your face, thumbs brushing over the stains of your tears. “You should know better than to eavesdrop. You missed out on a bit of context.” Your eyebrows knit together. “You’re not breaking up with me?” With a soft smile he shakes no. “I missed out on the context?” Tom nods and you feel yourself relax. “Okay.” You whisper and you lean towards Tom so he can embrace you. With your head pressed against his chest you wonder. “I don’t get it, what context?” Tom smiles to himself. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He pulls away a little so he can place a tender kiss on your soft lips. I can’t believe she almost found out about the proposal. If she had seen the ring last night the surprise would’ve been ruined.

Theodore

You were trying to focus on the book in your hands, but you had to reread every sentence twice, because your mind kept going to Theodore’s words. Frustrated with your incapacity to read, you sigh and look around taking in your surroundings, it’s then that you spot Theo slowly walking in your direction. “Here it goes.” You mutter to yourself as you mentally prepare yourself for a painful break up. “Where have you been all day?” Theo asks, noticing you looking at him. You shrug, not in the mood for small talk. “Here.” You say dryly and Theodore’s tongue darts around in his mouth as he tries to figure out what’s going on. “Why did you ignore my note?” You look away from him. Can’t he just cut to the chase.

Again you shrug, eyes still staring into the distance. Theodore raises his eyebrows, a little annoyed by your attitude. “Okay, princess. I’ll play.” He goes to sit opposite of you, giving you all his attention, but you snap your head towards him at his words. “You are unbelievable, Theodore Nott!” Your loud voice makes Theo clench his jaw. “Right back at ya, sweetie.” He’s annoyed, but he tries to stay calm, seeing how upset you are. “Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, Nott.” You snare. “I know you’re here to break up with me. I heard you talking at the astronomy tower last night. I know about your big plans that don’t involve a girlfriend. So you can scurry off now. I’ll be fine.” Theo opens his mouth before closing it again and chuckling softly. You frown. “This isn’t funny.” You say, clearly hurt by his lack of emotion. You reach for your book to hit it against his arm, but your boyfriend ceases the opportunity to grab your wrist and pull you closer to him, much to your dislike.

“It’s funny, trust me.” He whispers, chuckling as he closes the space between you two. “I’m not gonna scurry off, princess, and I’m not breaking up with your dumb ass.” You try to pull your wrist free. “I heard you say-” Theo snakes an arm around your waist to keep you close, before interrupting you. “You heard what exactly?” You fall silent and look up at him with watery eyes. “Because I’m not breaking up with you, I love you a little too much and I’ve invested a bit too much money in an engagement ring. So you and I, we’re not breaking up any time soon.” The sadness in your eyes is replaced by surprise. “Engagement ring?” You whisper barely audible and Theo nods softly, eyes focused on yours. “So did you maybe hear me say something like : she’s not going to be my girlfriend for long?” He leans closer to you, eyes moving between your lips and your eyes. “Because you’re not going to be my girlfriend for long, since you’ll be my fiance soon and then-” Your lips crash on his and his hand moves to your head as he kisses you back passionately. “I’m an idiot.” You whisper between kisses, only making him kiss you harder. “Yeah, you are. You’re lucky you’re cute.” You frown and he chuckles. “I love you.”

Draco

With closed eyes you enjoy the sounds of nature around you. “Hey!” You recognize your boyfriend’s voice and turn to see him walk up to you with his usual flair, though carefully watching the whomping willow afraid of what it might do. You turn away from him, not ready to face him after hearing him talk about breaking up with you last night. “What’s got you hiding out here?” He watches you with crossed arms and you chew your lip, fingers playing with the grass by your side. You were rarely this distance and he gets more worried. He decides to sit down next to you. “If something’s wrong you can tell me.” You’re surprised by the softness of his voice and turn to him. His heart breaks a little when he notices your puffy eyes, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to tell him what’s going on.

“I feel stupid, Draco.” You confess and he frowns at you, before you continue. “I- I just thought that when we lay in bed discussing the interior of our mansion that- I guess I believed that you really wanted that. You really had me believing you wanted that future with me.” Your boyfriend’s face goes paler than it usually is, but you don’t notice the horror in his eyes. “I respect your choice and I won’t make any drama, but I want you to know that I really wanted that… a future for just the two of us.” With those words you get up, feeling tears well up. “What?” Draco almost yells as he instantly gets up after you. “You can’t break up with me.” He grabs your hand and you look at him, confused at his words. “I’m not breaking up with you, you are breaking up with me.” Your explanation almost hurts Draco’s brain as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying. “No. No. Why would I break up with you?”

You press your lips into a line as you now notice how utterly confused he is. Your eyes rest on his hand holding onto yours, he didn’t want you to go anywhere. You look up at him, frowning. “But I heard you… last night… you said that- that I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend forever. Pansy asked if you were sure and you said yes. I clearly heard you say that.” Draco seems to relax at your words and a soft smile creeps up his lips. “Oh, love.” He lets go of your hand, before taking a step closer so there’s only an inch between you two and slings his arms around you, hugging you as he softly chuckles. “I’m not breaking up with you.” The calmness in his voice convinces you of his sincerity and you feel all the pain and tension leave your heart, making you blink away soft tears of joy.

You enjoy his warmth and hug him back, but after a moment your mind goes back to last night. “But then, what were you talking about?” You move away from him as you feel a bit of doubt make its way back to your heart. Draco tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and adores you with the sweetest smile on his lips. “You won’t be my girlfriend for long because I intend on marrying you.” Your eyes widen and you feel the purest form of happiness rush through you. “Marry me?” You whisper in surprise, not really believing what you had just heard. “Yes and I’m sure of it.” An intense blush forms on your cheeks and your eyes get sparkly as a soft laugh of joy leaves your lips. “I love you, Draco Malfoy.” He kisses tenderly, before locking his eyes with your and wiggling his eyebrows. “I love you too, future Mrs Malfoy.” You laugh and bite your lip. “I like that.” Draco pulls you closer, happy to hear your approval. You break a passionate kiss when your mind starts wondering again. “When are you asking?” You ask with a cheeky smile and Draco scoffs at your question. “I’m not telling. It’s already bad enough you know that I’m gonna ask.”

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agorejessstone · 6 months

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How Hira Changed My Life - DRAMA

At just 29 years old, I was diagnosed with Uterine Cancer.

Sort of the cherry on top of a sundae made Sjogren's.

As the eldest daughter of a lower middle class American family, I was responsible for more than just my education growing up.

While I was an avid writer, reader, dancer, artist, and vocalist, I was never given the same opportunities as my siblings. When they were being totted off to this practice or that recital, I was forced to focus on my homework, and whichever sibling was not old enough to attend.

That's not to say I didn't get to play a sport or join a club here and there, but overall, I was heading down a path of self destruction.

A people pleaser, avidly ignoring all the issues I'd acquired along the way, in pursuit of other's happiness.

There is nothing quite like a near-death experience to make you reevaluate your life.

6 years ago, I beat cancer, or at least, began my journey into remission, where I remain for the time being.

I decided that it was time to put down the dish rag, quit all but one of my three jobs, and get to know myself better. I'd carried the need to be the caretaker in to adulthood, and the effects were devastating.

I set out to write and publish my first full length novel. I'd written plenty before, but I never had the time, energy, or confidence to publish.

In July of 2021, I published my very first novel in a six part series that I am still working on today: Legend of the Sylph, but that wasn't all I wanted to do.

In 2016, I'd started a podcast, during my diagnosis, I'd been forced to focus on my health, and put that podcast on hold.

By 2018, fond memories resurfaced, and I decided it was time to try again. Heiress Anonymous was born as a faceless online artist, with a heart of gold, and a lot of stories to tell. I even included a weekly advice section, and things were going pretty well.

Until my youngest brother took his own life January 2019, 2019.

Being one of only two siblings that I was close to, and only 19, that loss shook the very core of our family, and it nearly defeated me a second time.

Struggling to keep my depression, anxiety, PTSD and bipolar under control, I did the only thing I thought I could do.

I got help.

During my inpatient therapy, I spent a lot of time reflecting on what made me happy, so that when I left that place, I could find something, anything, that made life seem less like wading through the layers of hell, slowly as an ant through tar.

I'd lost so many pieces of myself and I was tired of slapping a bandaid on a gaping wound and telling myself, and everyone else, it was just a scratch.

Dealing with everyone else's needs and desires, while neglecting my own was causing my Sjogren's to flare up more often than it should. My body wasn't cooperating, and my mind, oh that poor fella was more foggy than a black and white film.

Again, I started to do things I was passionate about.

I started with an online game after Duskwood's completion.

Each month, I'd write a new story, and a team of artists would help me develop a location map, clues, and characters for up to 30 people to play. It was the most fun I'd had in a while.

During this time, I was also playing other immersive games.

Mystic Messenger, The Seven Endgame series, and The Sign.

During my playthrough of the Seven series, I happened upon some... rather cancellable translation errors. In a moment of "Please don't cancel the only games I enjoy", I typed up an email to Reality Games, the developers, offering to scan the rest of their games for similar issues.

I was surprised when my wonderful friend Mel emailed me back, offering to let me test and correct The Healing, their upcoming title.

I accepted right away.

Then I had a thought... What if I took the team I'd been working on games with, made an actual game?

Astro Hollow was born. (Hopefully we'll be completed by 2025. It's not easy now that I have such a small team.)

During The Healings production, I asked if there were any unfilled roles. After knowing me for some time. Mel suggested Hira, and the rest is history.

Reality Games Fandom group was started on FB.

There, I met many great fans.

And some not so great fans.

One of them stood out to me. Stefi, who plays Ina.

She came to me as a fan, but we became fast friends. Similar to some of the others. She expressed her desire to become a voice actress, but was hesitant.

I spent weeks, months even, building her up, encouraging her, offering to help coach her lines, etc.

I introduced her to the group, set her up to mod the RG Fandom so she could learn the ropes and get used to fan engagement.

I even invited her to co-host a podcast.

Things seemed to be running smoothly. Until she decided that she was too busy to steam, but with the German meet and great looming, and her insistence that she go, I wholeheartedly understood.

I offered to hold her place on the podcast, until she had more time.

Tongue Tied Games and I had chatted before on reddit. Imagine my surprise at how small the world is, when I found out he played Charlie! We streamed together for the first time about a year ago, and we just clicked.

Preston and I became fast friends as well. (Cedrik - The Sign EN) His sense of humor is the stuff of legends.

I met all sorts of nice people.

Serge definately stands out to me. Such an amazing, witty guy.

I can't say enough good things about the Author's.

Daniel and Tim especially.

I'd forgotten how dark the internet can be, with all the light surrounding me.

I hadn't stopped to think about the fans, and how this could easily turn into an introverts parasocial hellscape.

For months, I tried to be the bigger person.

I ignored the whispers, the rumors, the blatant disrespect, but something happened that made me realize that if I don't stick up for myself, no one else will.

So here I am, explaining how one of the most important turning points in my life, has become the darkest time.

A fan, whom I will not name, and whom I've never had a conversation with, immediately disliked me. For the past 8 months, I've tried and tried and tried to figure out who or what or why this happened. They don't seem to know themselves. But to anyone that would listen, I was "mean". I didn't "value my friendships".

I was so dead set on not disrupting the community I loved, that I didn't speak up.

Ina was one of those people who turned their back on me.

I asked them why they'd take their word over mine, after everything I'd done.

I'd vouched for them, coached them, let them sit with me while I edit, introduced them to the group, supported them, helped them learn and grow, shared with them, both professionally and privately.

I could not fathom this turn of events.

In fact, I had not even considered it as the catalyst for her quitting the podcast.

It wasn't until a very dear friend of mine, nearly took her life, because she was bullied by this very same member (I'd give you there name, but honestly, I suspect there are many many names they go by) that I'd finally had it.

See what I mean?

I'm quick to defend and protect other people, but I'll let others tear me apart before I disrupt the peace.

I reached out to my mods, and let them know what was happening. They were appalled, to say the least. One even tried to mediate, but of course that didn't work out.

There was nothing to mediate.

This was a para social nightmare.

Growing up, being sickly, I'd never found myself beautiful, but in recent years, that has changed.

Health and happiness have made me a better person, physically and mentally.

Imagine my surprise when I was edged out by women who were intimidated by me, in a group that I was part of, long before most of them.

Imagine consitently helping others, and being forced to step back for a few months, only to come back to someone new, determined to make themselves "Queen PICK ME" or some shit.

I truly still do not understand it.

I've tried countless times to figure it out, but in the end, these are people who want to keep someone to themselves.

Who flirt with a stranger online, thinking they know them, but chastise anyone else who dares to do the same.

I'd seen it.

I'd recognized it.

I choose to ignore it.

FFS - I've got someone I care about already. Who in their right mind would intentionally ruin that for someone they've never even met? Someone they don't know? That's just a silly thought to have.

It has to be jealousy....

Do you know how many times I've been told that, and chose to ignore it, because I cannot fathom what there is to be jealous of?

After I shared my story with mods, the universe answered with a call of it's own.

Message after message from others within the community, who'd been wronged by this person.

Who'd felt unwelcome in the community.

Who'd been attacked, bullied even, out of the groups.

I was shattered.

A near death, a dozen victims.

I reached out to the group owners, and cleaned up my own, but no one made a move to correct the behavior.

Is that what being an "influencer" is?

Should I be reaping the benefits without any of the responsibility?

No.

I refuse to let people suffer, because I don't want to speak up.

I was scared, truth be told, because I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away.

By time I realized that wasn't the case, so many other people had been influenced by this person's word.

This person, whom I'd never had a conversation with.

This person, who I'd promoted their "fan art".

This person, who was continually looking for excuses to hate me.

This person, who clearly knows nothing about me.

And yet, this person was going to win.

I haven't said a word in 8 months.

I've blocked and removed myself where ever I can, but this person, these people really, still haunt me.

The horde gets larger every day I stay silent.

The one who said they weren't feeling the podcast, took the name I had for the post finale of Orphans, and the people I had invited, and did their own, but I knew that was happening, and said nothing.

Until someone came to me and asked me, "Weren't you the reason that Stefi joined the cast as Ina?"

I replied yes, and the flood gates opened.

Stefi was a fan.

She came to me as Hira. Said she liked the character.

We started to chat. Became friends.

I encouraged her to email her audition to the team.

I reached out to the team and told them to give her a chance.

I coached her lines from the first few episodes.

I GOT HER THE ROLE AS INA.

She now gives credit to TT.

If you don't believe me, I have the podcasts still up on YouTube, where we talk about it in detail.

At first, I was sure that she was being manipulated.

Part of the reason that I was adamant that she join the team, was who she is as a person.

She's LGBTQ and on the spectrum. It's very important to me, especially after all of my struggles, to make sure that everyone finds something they're passionate about and doesn't let anything hold them back.

For months I thought she was being taken advantage of. Manipulated.

To discover otherwise was absolutely heartbreaking for me.

Imagine how shattered I was, when someone from the German fan meet up, said she's been telling people that since the German Fan Meet and Great in AUGUST 2023.

I feel used.

I'm at a low I'm not sure I can recover from, especially because she continues to say and do things just to get at me.

I've done what I can to block and move on, and I continue to leave communities I cherish, because of these ghosts.

It's like I'm Sandy, but for real this time, and trapped in that damned Orphanage.

Will we share a similar fate?

Will I let devistation consume me?

Have I made the right decisions?

Time will tell.

I'm leaving most names out of this on purpose, but I'm setting the record straight on how Ina came to be part of the community.

I'm so sick and tired of supporting people from behind the curtain, while actively being used as a doormat.

I love working for RG.

This has nothing to do with the company itself.

Cast will be what cast will be.

I love voice acting. I love writing, so even the editing process is fulfilling, but man I still had a lot to learn about how selfish the industry is.

How competitive.

How jealous and manipulative.

Watching people argue over someone they've never met.

Someone they've never seen.

Someone they don't know.

Watching them gatekeep the communities they stay in, running off anyone who isn't an OG.

Kind of defeats the purpose of supporting that creator, when you're driving good people out.

I'm starting to wonder if the internet isn't going to be our downfall.

If we'll ever truly understand the effects of parasocial relationships.

While I love the work I do, and many of the people who follow me, I cannot condone gatekeeping, lying, manipulation, cheating, stealing, copying, and outright bullying.

Stay in your lane.

At the end of the day, you don't know me.

Very few of you do.

You don't know her, him, they, them.

You just don't.

Speaking or acting on the behalf of others, lying about the people who helped get you where you are, no matter how you feel about them, is just plain messed up.

As with everything else in my life, I've learned a lot here.

I don't love parasocial relationships.

They fascinate me, until they piss me off.

Obviously this is NOT all of what occurred here. There are plenty of screenshots, and stories, but the bottom line is that I'm being pushed around, and I'm tired of staying silent. I work too hard, and help too many people, while barely being able to lift my head up to do so.

I've had it.

If you want to join a discord community where bullying, will not be tolerated: https://discord.gg/C6Edjk3AhX

Please remember. Just because you recognize their face and you know about them through the internet, does not mean you KNOW them.

Please treat actors/streamers as human beings, but also as "entertainers".

Respect their privacy.

Do not speak on their behalf.

Do not bully their followers, even if they are extremely hands off, or they expect the community to police.

You can easily turn one of the BEST things that's ever happened to someone, into one of the worst.

The results can be deadly.

#hira #the healing #the sign #orphans #reality games #reality games fandom #voice actor #voice acting #duskwood #ina #sandy

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tv-music · 3 years

Text

Umbrella Academy Review 2.01

Right Back Where We Started

I went into Season 1 with very little to no expectations, having no real idea what the show was about. But going into the first episode of the 2nd Season of The Umbrella Academy my expectations were extremely high - and boy it did not disappoint.

We start this episode pretty much where we left off, with the siblings travelling in time to escape the apocalypse. They land in Texas, all in the same alley but not all in the same year. First off is Klaus and Ben, who find themselves in 1960, then Alison, dropped into 1961, Luther, a year later in 1962 and Diego, Vanya and Five are all dropped into 1963, albeit in completely different months. Vanya is awake when she lands in the alley but understandably is disoriented, she runs in the road and is instantly hit by a car (I say hit, it looks more like a small bump) Five on the other hand lands in the centre of a war zone, with his siblings firmly in the middle of the action. The siblings are all fighting together and all seem as though they are in complete control of their powers (which is a first). Just as Five runs out to join the action, he is stopped by an older looking Hazel, insisting that if he wants to live, he needs to go with him. As Five and Hazel use the suitcase to escape, the rest of the siblings stand together as the world ends once again - phew all that action and already and that's before the credits have even rolled and needless to say, I am excited.

We follow Hazel and Five, back again to the same street, different time, as Hazel explains that the end of the world now takes place in November 1963. He informs Five that they have travelled 10 days earlier and this should be enough time to stop it - I like Hazel but he could have given Five more time surely? It’s a time travelling suitcase after all he could have given him a little longer - a bus stops and 3 white haired men with guns show up clearly looking for Five, Hazel has just enough time to pass the suitcase over and save Five before the men shoot and take him out - I realise Hazel’s story was over but I still didn’t expect them to kill off a main character in the 1st 10 mins of the season.

With the suitcase destroyed, Five doesn’t have a lot of choice on where to go, after some very astute observations he makes his way up to see the man we saw watching his siblings as they landed - as Five talks to him, he reveals the ‘alien behaviour’ he has seen - giving Five the information he needs so that he knows that his plan may not have gone exactly as he had hoped, but his siblings are alive although they are stranded throughout time, but seeing as though he’s the last to arrive he should be able to find them all.

We find Diego as an inpatient, clearly still working through his Daddy issues - but Diego’s just playing them, wanting to get discharged earlier than planned - surely he must realise that shouting about how someone’s going to kill the president in 10 days time (is it a coincidence that this is the same day the new apocalypse is due to take place), only makes a case for his stay to be extended. Not long after, Diego’s told he has a visitor and he’s taken to see Five waiting for him. Five explains to him that there’s a new apocalypse and he needs his help, Diego on the other hand is still convinced that he needs to save the president first and Five informs the guards of Diego’s escape plan, leaving him in the hospital.

Diego is placed in a straight-jacket, sedated and placed into a padded room after his visit with Five and even then he is determined to escape. Unfortunately for Diego, the 3 white haired men show up as he is attempting his escape and he ends up being joined by Lila, who saves him from a bully of an employee - Lila's doing well at playing a little less than sane but that’s exactly what I think she’s doing, playing at it. I have no clue how she fits into anything yet but I don’t believe for a second that her being around Diego was a coincidence, as we all know coincidences don’t exist in TV. Diego and Lila, against all odds, manage to evade the men and escape the hospital

Next we see Vanya, she’s living with the woman who knocked her down the day she arrived in the alley and has no memory whatsoever about who she is or how she got there. It’s sad that Vanya doesn’t know who she is but at the same time she seemed happier than we have ever seen her

Vanya seems to have formed a close bond with Sissy, who seems less than happy with her life - there are definitely vibes between these two

Klaus and Ben are next up and first things first - Klaus looks incredible! Klaus’s attitude on the other hand doesn’t seem to have changed much and he and Ben seem to need some time apart, which is a shame when your only connection to the physical world is the person you need time apart from. After losing at poker, (mostly due to Ben messing with him) Klaus finds himself in a fight and steals a truck to get back to Dallas - classic Klaus

When we catch up with Alison, she is happily married to Raymond, who seems to really love her. She's used her 2 years to really build a life for herself, and not one that she may want to leave so easily.

Holding a meeting at a beauty parlor, Alison and her husband are interrupted by a clearly racist man sticking his nose where is doesn’t belong and for that he gets literally kicked to the curb by Alison - good for her, he was an arsehole

Luther is a far cry from the guy we’re used to seeing, when we catch up with him he’s in the middle of what i have to assume is a less than legal fight and seems to have no qualms about hurting people - I have never really connected with Luther and by the end of season 1 I was less than happy with the ridiculous decisions he was making but even I felt sad seeing the change and pure misery on his face.

To quote Five, Luther’s hovering like an ambitious stripper in a bar when he realises that Five is there, Five makes his second attempt of the day to reunite with one of his siblings and for the second time that day he fails - Luther doesn’t care that the worlds ending and isn’t down to help this time

We end the episode here, and as the episode title spells out for us, we’re literally back where we started, the siblings separated and only days away from the world ending and just like with the end of the first episode of Season 1, I’m all in

Extra Thoughts:

Agnes passed away but her and Hazel had 20 years together - I’m glad they got their happy ending

If Vanya has no memories, how does she know her name? Is there something I missed?

The version of ‘Crazy’ playing while Diego escaped solitary was stunning - the music on this show never disappoints

None of the siblings have found each other in the time they have been there but Five drops in and finds 2 of them in less than a day - I know that Five is the smarter sibling but how hard did the others really try?

#tua #tua review #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #alison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #hazel #the umbrella academy review

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thevampirearcher-md · 3 years

Text

something med school did not cover - adorable (#2) 🩺

short and sweet is the mood for this AU ✨

also on ao3

She’s the first one in. As a general rule, Rosé is always there when Denali walks out of the nurse’s locker room, studying the overnight updates on her patients’ charts, always the first one to start on her pre-rounds. She carries around her Oxford Handbook of Paediatrics stuffed in one pocket, alongside all of her funky pens, her pink stethoscope stuffed in her other pocket and her notepad in hand, filled with various case notes. “Good morning, doctor,” Denali greets, pinning her badge to her scrubs. Rosé almost drops the chart she’s holding as her head snaps up. Her face lights up with a smile. “Good morning, nurse Foxx,” she greets, her smile only extending out wider. Her eyes meet Denali’s and she stops whatever she’s doing - which from the looks of it is piling up charts into a makeshift tower which slides dangerously as the intern is distracted. “Careful,” Denali giggles from across the central desk. “Oh, shit,” Rosé mutters, stopping the papers with her hip, right as they’re about to spill over the edge of the counter and scatter across the linoleum. “Oh, shit,” she repeats, eyes widening, realising that she’s let a forbidden word slip out. Denali’s giggling intensifies, making her face flush bright red. “Need any help?” “Please,” Rosé’s tone reminds Denali of a child, pleading and endearing, and she approaches to help. The intern’s hands are full and her eyes are almost desperate. Denali can feel the fear of rearranging the medical files of various different patients in chronological order. She sneaks her arm around Rosé’s body, making her freeze. “Got ‘em,” she announces, trying not to get caught up in how close they are to each other. She can feel it when Rosé releases a breath she’d been holding and steps away. “Thank you,” she says on a sigh, righting herself. “Can I ask what’s with the leaning tower of cases?” Denali gathers them to her chest. “Those are all my patients,” the intern explains. “I was gathering their files to pre-round before Professor Visage gets here.” Denali counts them quickly - seven, including the one clutched in Rosé’s hand, more patients than Denali has ever seen assigned to an intern with only a month of experience under her belt. She’s been working here since she was a rookie, since before she had even graduated from nursing school, and she has gotten to know how Professor Visage operates: she’s seen her pick out someone from every generation and slowly start to lean on them, to give them more responsibility. But this is overload, especially this early on. “Need assistance?” she offers benevolently. Rosé’s eyes light up at that. “Would you?” Denali’s dimpled smile is answer enough. She wouldn’t normally do this. Every nurse is a rookie at first and every doctor is an intern in the beginning. Every intern pre-rounds their patients, gets pimped by their supervisors during actual rounds then spends the rest of their days on scut - filling out charts, printing out labs and acting like secretaries in scrubs. She’s been a rookie herself - filling out treatment plans and handing out supplies to her overseers - and none of the interns have helped her. Rosé knocks softly on door 612, then pushes it open. “Good morning, Mrs Gardner,” she greets softly. “It’s Dr McCorkell,” she looks to the one year old boy, propped against the low bed, frantically drawing on an Etch-A-Sketch. “And nurse Foxx,” Denali pipes up. “Hi, Arthur,” she winks, handing his file over to Rosé. “How are we doing today?” Rosé asks, crouching down next to the bed. Arthur looks to her and smiles. While his mommy answers Rosé’s questions, giving her all of the needed updates, Denali can’t help but notice the intern. She’s steadily leaning closer to the boy, grabbing one of his stuffed animals to lure him to her. He points to his Etch-A-Sketch, to his masterpiece of violent swirls, which Rosé studies thoughtfully. “You’re a very talented artist,” she praises, smiling at him. The boy extends his chubby hand towards her, the Etch-A-Sketch pen gripped into his fleshy palm. “Should I draw something, too?” He nods and Denali’s

smile widens as she watches the ginger absentmindedly write his name on the board in her loopy calligraphy. The one-year-old watches mesmerised as her hand moves. She takes her opportunity to sneak her stethoscope out of her pocket and start listening to his breathing sounds. “That’s not a drawing, Dr McCorkell,” Denali hears herself say and the intern turns to narrow her eyes at her. Teasing is unprofessional, Denali starkly reminds herself, especially in the presence of a patient. “I’m not as talented as Arthur,” she winks as he bats her stethoscope away, his small face contorting up into a scowl. Giggling at a doctor’s wink is also highly unprofessional. “I��m sorry, I know I’m annoying,” Rosé admits, swinging Arthur up into her arms and laying him on the bed. The toddler scrunches his face at her, just about ready to burst into angry tears. Denali steps closer, automatically reaching for her badge. “Hey, champ, look what I got,” she dangles it above his face. His wide eyes snap to the white rectangle, his hands straining up to reach it. “Has he eaten today?” Rosé asks the mother, ready to palpate his tummy. “Just the yogurt,” she sighs. “Everything else contains something he’s allergic to,” the mother looks despaired. Denali’s eyes scan over the breakfast tray - cornflakes, a small slice of bread, butter and some kind of jam. All fairly harmless. She’s checking the exhaustive list of food allergies Arthur has been diagnosed with, when he starts screaming. Rosé huffs in agreement. “Good God, this is the worst part, I promise,” she reassures the child as she presses her palm into his abdomen. “After this you get a reward for being the bravest boy of them all, ok?” She winks and his sobs subside into whimpers. “Could that be sensitivity?” Denali narrows her eyes down at his chart - third day inpatient for a rather nasty bout of diarrhoea with a great evolution since being admitted. “Nah,” the intern dismisses her. “I’m just bothering him with all this examining,” she pulls him up to sitting, “when he’d rather be playing. Right, Arthur?” She smiles, producing a pen from one of her pockets. It’s wildly and brightly coloured and Arthur is mesmerised instantly. “He seems to be doing marvellously,” Rosé informs the mother. “I’ll bring up his discharge today at rounds,” she explains. “What I also want to touch up on are his allergies. With all due respect for his doctor, I’ll talk to Professor Visage about finding him a great allergologist, who can help you tell which ones are actual allergies and which ones are just harmless blood reactions.” Denali laughs, breaking the solemn moment. Arthur had found how to uncap Rosé’s pen and is now proudly shoving the two parts into his mom’s face. Rosé joins in Denali’s laughter. “Such a bright young boy can’t only eat three aliments for the rest of his life,” Rosé quirks an eyebrow, making the little boy giggle. “Thank you so much, doctor McCorkell,” Arthur’s mother clutches her baby close to her body, even as he’s struggling to extend his arms out to Rosé as she puts the cap back onto her pen and hands it to him again. Very few children ever warm up to their doctors so fast. Even Professor Visage, who children adore, doesn’t have this much patience to bring the child to her. “There’s no need to thank me,” Rosé catches the cap that Arthur has just dropped. “Professor Visage is the person in charge,” she smiles. “And I’ll bet he’s spent much more time with Nurse Foxx here than he has with me,” she winks as the boy tries to shove the pen into its cap, filling Rosé’s hand with blue wobbly lines. “So close,” she encourages as another line crosses past her wrist. “He’s only this friendly with you,” the mommy assures and Denali nods. “And you’ve taken the greatest care of him, so thank you. Honey, it’s time to give Doctor McCorkell her pen back,” she urges her son, who clutches it more tightly, drawing it away from his mom’s expecting hand. “Arthur,” Denali says softly, “Doctor McCorkell might cry if you don’t give her pen back to her,” she tells him and his eyes widen. “We don’t want to

see her cry, do we?” Rosé’s eyes snap to hers. The boy fervently shakes his head no, extending the pen out to Rosé. “Thank you, Arthur,” she stuffs it back into her pocket. “Bye,” she calls, beckoning Denali out of the room. The last picture she sees in room 612 is Arthur waving from his mommy’s arms. “That little boy loves you,” Denali says, noticing a slight blush start to creep up into her cheeks. “Oh, stop that,” the ginger tries to hide her face away, but covering her cheeks while her hair is pinned back proves difficult. “And with good reason,” Denali hums under her breath and the only clue that Rosé had heard her is the deepening red colour of her cheeks as she reaches for the next chart she needs from the pile balanced in Denali’s arms.

#rosenali #rosenali ff #omgheyrose #denali foxx #hospital AU

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thelostandforgottenangel · 4 years

Text

Naked Challenge on the Turtles

Female walking out in the middle of the lair front of BF turtle naked to get his reaction

@bloody-weapons-soft-soul13 @fyreball66 @lonelyheart-clubband @blossom-skies @narwals14 @betelgeusessonajblog @missbeautyandherbeast @midnightrebel669 @midnight-chocolate-turtle @myheyheyheystuff @nikitaboeve @mistyroselove @waterstar2016 @bluesakurablossom @bayverse-turtle-power @nights-legacy @janna-the-breaker @missmagellanic @darksaphire2002 @aurora-the-kunoichi @moonlightflower21 @queendice98 @infintyfandoms @ravn-87 @bmntgirl @vixie-chan233

Also @ the sweet anon who gave me feedback on the kissing challenge fanfiction I really do hope this one was so much better please let me know I aim to impress and I tried so hard this time *Blows kisses* Hope you guys enjoy as much as I did making it

She had waited until she was sure it was just the two of them before she hopped in the tub to rinse away her bad day at work

After walking through the lair to be greeted by her loving Turtle who understandingly hugged her up knowing she needed to de-stress offered for her to go take a relaxing bath that he so sweetly drew up for her

Once she had everything she needed he went to go back to what he was doing wanting her to take a load off her shoulders with the promise of couples time afterwards be it cuddles in the quiet of his room or on the couch watching her favorite movie

But as she got out the idea to tease him was just too hard to pass up

Leonardo had seen how tired she was after her long shift she looked ready to drop right there but still had sweetly came to see him making his heart flutter for his loving mate to think of him when she should be home resting

After kissing her head telling her she needed to relax he sent her to the bath where all her stuff was one her special shelf he had made for when she needed anything or spent the night

While waiting for his beloved the leader had started his training working through the new kata his father had taught him both blades cutting through the air honed well in his skilled hands and his focus was purely on his lesson

For once the woman walking into the room didn’t register to him

At first!

“Leonardo~” her sweet voice calling out to him had him turning as a towel fell over his head lifting it to see his girl standing there completely bare and in every ounce of her glory – in the middle of the dojo

His face flushed to a darker green looking her up and down unable to speak as both swords dropping from his grasp to the ground as he took her in struggling to speak before his eyes darkened as he bit his lower lip smirking “Oh - it is so on love”

His approach was slow appreciating the beauty before him his hands already unstrapping his belts and untying his pants letting his Geisha know her Sensei was coming into play once his hand rested against her neck lovingly and their bodies were pressed so sensually together as he closed the door with no hesitation

Raphael chuckled once she was in the bathroom knowing she needed some time to just let it all melt off her shoulders wanting to be sweet to improve her day had went into the kitchen making her a snack, he placed it on the table with a note so when she was done it was right there for her

Still hearing nobody was home he had stepped off into his weight room to clean up from that morning after working out with his brother’s

All of them agreed to doing some weight training to make up for cutting practice short the day before and as much as he enjoyed his alone time he did find having his brothers to outdo always was fun

Just after wiping down the last bench and picking up all of Mikey’s candy wrappers the youngest had to of hid while taking his breaks so Leo wouldn’t see left the turtle grumbling over his knuckleheaded younger brother as his phone rang seeing it was Casey

The man was supposed to be meeting him tonight for patrols and he hoped he wasn’t calling to cancel again

Talking to his friend while he finished up made him unaware of the soft footsteps coming up behind him or the sweet voice that had called him twice before a wet towel landed over his head

A deep growl rumbled from him thinking Mikey was playing a prank on him again ready to cuss him out but when he turned around there stood his girl completely nude leaning against the frame water still dripping down her voluptuous curves as she dried her hair “What’s wrong big guy~? Am I interrupting?”

He was left completely speechless as she pushed off moving towards him slowly her small hips sashaying with every step as water dripped down her curves

“Holy f- Case… Yo Jones I gotta go man”

He barely heard the man ask why he was letting him go so fast as Raph churred eyeing her hungrily when both small hands were grabbing his belt pulling him forward growling under his breath as that small pink tongue drifted over her bottom lip eyeing him with those come get me shimmering orbs

He was seconds from just jumping her there before hearing his friend again ask what the hell was going on “Yeah yeah call ya later imma bout ta lay some pipe”

The turtle lifted her into his arms getting an excited giggle as he carried he to his room mumbling as the phone dropped onto the bench

Part of him was hoping he figured out what was up and hung up soon otherwise he was going to hear some shit “Fuck yer so in for it baby!”

He had gone down and actually made sure the was drawn for her getting everything she needed just wanting his queen to soak and relax before Donatello would be pampering her the rest of the night kissing her softly they leaving her to enjoy some music

He hadn’t meant to walk into the lab but his work phone going off made him step in

It was supposed to be his off day but the main operator requested his help given it was a difficult problem that had locked the other service workers out

The job was aimed towards his specialty in hacking computers and he couldn’t just say no; he took over the call after logging in to be sure he was getting paid for accepting the call going through all the normal introduction while trying to get in finding the woman on the phone had no clue what she was doing

It was a bit frustrating because every time he told her to do something she backed out and he had to restart from the beginning all over again and in his semi-calm droned out ‘bitch don’t push another button’ voice he was glad his family wasn’t home

He was wishing at that moment this had just been another female accidently mistaking the tech support for a sex operator hotline

In that time he also hadn’t heard the small footsteps coming towards him actually screaming as a wet cloth dropped over his head apologizing profusely to the woman as he turned then stopped letting the towel drop from his hand as his jaw almost ended up in his lap

There standing only feet away was his beautiful love in all her glory skin flushed from the long shower and steam rolling off her in the cool room as she grinned climbing into his lap as his breathing picked up hearing her whispering soft enough the person on the other line wouldn’t hear “Put it on mute or she’s going to get an earful genius”

He had to swallow a churr before snapping to attention when the female on his headset asked him if this would take much longer getting inpatient watching as his girl grinded their hips together

“M-My apologies ma’am just fixing a few things if you will there’s a box popping up on your screen please push accept as soon as it does”

He couldn’t think when she started undoing his pants already kissing and nipping at his neck whispering dirty needy things just to him as he started typing in several codes having to clear his throat as one hand shoved several things aside on his desk as the screen flashed up showing she had accepted

“And now I’m going to send you a waver – this will just allow me to have full access to your drive meaning I can take care for it without you having to do a single thing miss – yes ma’am that probably would have saved you time I do apologize for the inconvenience”

He almost swallowed his tongue as her hands wrapped around his already hard shaft stroking over him while nibbling at his weak spot slapping a hand over his mouth as she bit his neck hard making him throb pushing her back mouthing he was so going to get her before the woman asked if there was anything else

“Yes ma’am - please read it fully so you understand that this only give me the ability to go where the problems are and once you agree my computer will be linked to yours and I will fix the problem immediately – I will be putting you on hold while I fill out the correct paperwork and I’ll have this fixed in a jiff”

He barely heard her sigh and agree before the call was muted and he was out of his chair placing her on the desk fast “Wow maybe I should have just started riding my genius’s cock and seen how long you could last with her still on the call”

Shaking his head he chuckled already worshipping his queen unable to believe she had given him such a delicious surprise ready to take her there but needed to get her back for the teasing his fingers playing with the heated core yet never giving enough to make her cum getting her so needy she was begging for him to take her

With a feral growl he thrusted into her going so slow but burying every inch nice and deep inside her a shit eating grin lighting up his face “And waste getting to fuck around on the clock while being paid – no way”

Figuring she was going to be a little bit Michelangelo had jumped back on his game with the boys wanting to play his COD game before he was totally focused on his girl’s needs knowing with enough begging he might be able to convince her to stay the night

An hour later he was trashing some guy with a major anger problem that sounded like he was punching walls, listening to some kid who wouldn’t stop screaming at an unbearable high pitch that kept claiming he had ‘slept with his entire squads mommas’ even though he didn’t sound old enough to be playing the game, and smack talking the other team through his mic as he racked up the kills having his fun sniping guys as they respawned

She had snuck into the living area hearing his evil laugh as somebody called him a dick after he shot them again

“Hey Mikey…” he waved her off at first shouting right back making her giggle at how serious he took his games before pulling her towel off tossing it over his head hearing him grumbling tossing the soaked cloth on the couch grabbing up his drink whimpering for her to give him ten more minutes “Mikey~ look baby I think you’ll like this~”

She let her hair down ruffling it knowing how weak it made him when it was down

“Baby I’m destroying this whiney little b-” with a bit of trouble he looked back for just a second before spitting out the mouthful of soda as the can caved in within his grasp sending his drink all over the floor his eyes going wide as she stepped between him and the screen playing innocent

The youngest turtle looked her up and down several times grinning widely as she fluffed her hair swaying her body sensually as her fingers teased him by touching her breast “If you are still too busy… I’ll just go play by myself in your room”

Shaking his head fast he started up out of his beanbag trying to grab her but actually fell down calling into his speaker a bit huskily “Bros I gotta go! I’m out! I’m out!”

She could hear his friends complaining over his speaker since they were winning the mission asking what was going on but his headphones got tossed as he gave her the grabby hands trying to get her to come to him which she did finally with an impish smile

“Oh no dudes my baby girl is looking so damn fine” he dropped his controller pulling her into his lap already pushing his shorts down going to take her right there not caring he had forgotten to turn off his mic “It is baby making time!”

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tiktic challenge #reaction #tmnt leonardo #lemonish #naughty #tmnt raphael #towel drop #i have no self control #tmnt donatello #no shame #I said I was going to do it #sexy tease #tmnt michelangelo #more to come #tmnt bayverse #im not sorry #these turned out just ... mmmm!#tmnt 2014/2016

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crystalsmentalhealth · 3 years

Text

Talking about the Brattleboro Retreat in Brattleboro, Vermont

I recently spent two weeks at the Retreat and wanted to share my experiences both good and bad about it.

I arrived at the Retreat in mid-June of 2021 after a four day stay at the Emergency Department of my local hospital. Originally I had not wanted to go to the Brattleboro Retreat because it was such a big campus and I equated that with busy and loud and impersonal. The Retreat would challenge my assumptions.

Getting There

I didn’t drive myself. As I said I spent four days in the ED of my local hospital and so I arrived via ambulance. The ride was stressful and nauseating. I was already stressed and nervous and the mountainous winding roads did absolutely nothing to help. I didn’t lay in the stretcher, but sat in a back-facing seat with no arm rests and with a blood pressure cuff around my left arm.

The trip took about an hour and except for a few questions from the person riding in the back with me, it was spent in nearly complete silence, which again, did nothing to help my nerves. There was no reassurance or even light conversation.

My Arrival

When we got there, they grabbed my bags for me, probably because I wasn’t allowed to have them yet, and with one person before me and one person behind me, lead me up the stairs to the admissions office. We were met at the door by an admissions person and I was dropped off like an Amazon package. The ambulance personnel left and I was officially at the Retreat.

I was first led to Security. They dropped off my bags with Security, and asked me to empty my pockets. I had none and told them such. Then I was led to an exam room where the woman who was with me found a gown that would fit me and held it up in front of her. I was then told to strip completely. I balked, but obeyed. First went my shirt, then my bra, then I stepped into the gown. Then with that covering me, I wiggled out of my pants and underwear. She gave me a pair of hospital pants to put on so I wasn’t completely bare. Then I was shown a chair and given a pair of huge grippy socks to wear. One size fits all, I guess.

After that the lady took my blood pressure, my pulse, and checked my oxygen levels. Then she took my temperature. My clothes and shoes were sent to Security with the rest of my things. I had off-brand crocs as shoes so I had no idea what they needed to check for, but off they went.

After the clothing change I was led to an office. I felt so awkward standing in a grey hospital gown, blue hospital pants, no panties, and those huge grippy socks, in front of two nicely dressed office personnel. They let me have a seat and the questions and paperwork began.

What was my insurance? Did I know about the extra inpatient days allowed? Who was my primary care physician? My therapist? My psychiatrist? My case worker? Did I have an Advanced Directive? What are the addresses? Did I want a male or female provider? There were so many questions!

Then it was sign here, and here, and here, and here, and here.

After that I was given a green folder that said Welcome to Tyler 2 which contained various information that I would need during my time there. My patient Bill of Rights, how to file a complaint or grievance. That sort of stuff.

Then it was off to another area and now they wanted a urine sample. I had already done two at the hospital and really didn’t need to pee, but I tried. I assume it was for a drug test, but I have no real clue.

Then I was sent off to another exam room, this time for a full physical. She asked me all about my medical history, whether I was having normal bowel movements or not, all about my diabetes, my family history (cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer, heart disease, cancer, kidney failure, cancer), she even checked my reflexes. The ARNP that examined me had the neatest notebook. It was electronic and I was fascinated by it.

(At the time of writing this I’ve only been home for two full days and I still have a very clingy cat who is currently laying on my left hand so if you catch a typo that kitty has caused me, please let me know.)

After the physical I was given one outfit to wear back, sans bra because my bra was underwire, and I was sent to a seat to wait to be sent to the unit.

The lady who watched over me offered me something to drink while I waited and when she offered milk I took her up on it. Unfortunately it was 1% milk, which I really hate, but hey, milk, so I drank it while I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. Before long a Security guard and a nurse from the unit I would go to came down and led me down one corridor, in one elevator, through a cafeteria, up another elevator, and finally I was on the unit.

Tyler 2

The first thing I noticed when I got on the unit was that the bedrooms were singles. Yes! I hate sharing my bedroom in hospitals. At the worst, I’d once had to share with three other people stuffed into a two person bedroom. Two poor souls had had to sleep on cots. So I was very happy to see that I would have my own room.

I was shown into an interview room for yet even more paperwork and questions. All this is the business of the psychiatric hospital and it comes at the literal worst time of your stay, the beginning. When you’re scared and your nerves are raw, and your mental health is at it’s worst.

A three question questionnaire was first. Why are you here? How can we help? What are your coping skills? Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation. I don’t know. Reading and journaling.

Then there was a check list of things that helped when I was feeling bad. I was fascinated to see that laying down in my room was one of the options. Most hospitals I had been in forbade that, with some going so far as to lock the doors to the bedrooms during the day so people didn’t sleep the day away. It was a pleasant surprise, and I checked that off along with a few others that I felt applied.

Then, the nurse, and we’ll just call her Rose, asked me if I was hungry and told me that they always had sandwiches on the unit and that the kitchen which held milk, orange juice, flavored water, cold water, hot water, coffee, teas, and various snacks was open 24/7. I declined both sandwich and snack.

Finally, I was left alone for a couple of minutes and I had a moment to just breathe. It was a Thursday according to the giant whiteboard that had the day’s schedule on it. Most of the groups were over with.

A little bit later a bag was brought up with my clothes and another with the few things I was allowed to have: my Bible; two coloring books; two books (A Street Cat Named Bob and A Wrinkle in Time); my toothbrush, my hair brush, and my composition notebook; were given to me. The clothes I wasn’t given yet. I was told by a nurse that because of COVID they washed everything that came on the unit whether it was clean or not and I would get my clothes once they were dry.

I was then shown my room. Number 219 was to be my home for the foreseeable future. It was a fair sized room, the walls painted hospital blue, the floor had boring brown patterned tiles, There was a plastic chair, a twin size bed with a single pillow, and brown blanket, and bottom sheet. There was no flat sheet.

There was a set of built in shelves and a small alcove with an unbreakable mirror and large shelf where I put my green folder as well as my other personal belongings that I was permitted to have. I hung around in there for a few minutes before wandering back out and awkwardly looked around.

It was soon 8:30pm and Rose, who was my nurse that night, offered me my bedtime medications. I accepted and went to bed.

The Schedule

I slept fitfully that night. I was scared, they checked on me every 15 minutes, and it wasn’t quite dark when I went to bed. I woke up obscenely early the next morning, which is very unusual for me, but I attribute it to the uncomfortable mattress, the lack of my comfort item; a stuffed cat named Fat Cat that I sleep with, and the fact that my room had a double window that faced directly East. The sun rises at about 4:45am right now, so it woke me up at around 5:30am that morning.

I wandered out, thinking it was much later than it actually was, since it was fully light out. I sleepily blinked at the analog clock and tried to decipher it. Inwardly I groaned at the time. To kill time, I awkwardly wandered around the unit again, and I think I laid back down for a little while.

Eventually I left my room again and it was 7:30am. Shift change. I can’t remember who my nurse was that morning, but by 8am it had become quite the busy place with the morning nurses, the mental health workers, the social workers, and the group leaders milling about the nurses station.

I noticed that the whiteboard had changed with the day, and so I glanced at the Friday schedule.

8am - Breakfast 9am - Community Meeting 10am - OT Movement 11am - Psychotherapy 12pm - Lunch 1pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 2pm - OT Activities 3:30pm Shift Change 4pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 5pm - Supper 6:15pm - Game room/small courtyard (yellow level) 7pm - Wrap Up 8pm - Free Time 9pm - Relaxation 10pm - Phones/computer/TV off

Yes, we had a computer. Some guy we’ll just call J tended to hog it, but so long as it wasn’t group, before morning shift change or after 10pm or 11pm on Friday night and Saturday night, anybody could use it. Of course Facebook and YouTube were blocked, but Vimeo wasn’t. Can somebody please tell me the difference between YouTube and Vimeo?

I didn’t really go to groups that first day, and I was on Red level, so I wasn’t allowed outside even if I had wanted to. I did however see the Social Worker, a very nice woman we’ll just call M. and my doctor via ZOOM, Dr. L.

All of the staff was really nice to me, and the unit, which at that point had a census of 19, was actually fairly quiet for the most part.

When 8am hit, and the breakfast trays arrived, I asked where I should go to eat. I was told I could eat on the porch, the day room, or in my room. Eating in peace alone in my room. Yes, please. I took my tray, got a carton of milk, and walked down the hall to my room.

When I pulled the lid off my plate, I discovered eggs, home fries, and a corn muffin. I also had some fruit. I cautiously tried the potatoes and found them to be quite good, but couldn’t eat anything else so I took my tray back.

I hovered awkwardly around the schedule board until somebody brought me a chair.

Then it happened. My stomach began churning. I went to the nurses station and told one of the three nurses that I had a bit of an upset stomach and could I have something for it? She looked up something and told me I could have some Tums. She sent me to the med window and used some fancy machine to dispense the Tums. I stuck them in my mouth and chewed. I swallowed. It was then that I knew I had made a mistake. I literally felt the Tums hit my stomach, felt my stomach cramp, and then I was vomiting.

After that experience and the cleaning up thereof, I got my morning meds at around 9am, and soon found myself back in the interview room, this time with a nutritionist. At least I think that was Friday. It could have been Monday. Regardless, I talked to her about being sick (it wasn’t the first time, I had gotten sick back in the ED as well), my lack of appetite, my diabetes, the medication for diabetes I was on (2000mg of Metformin and .5mg of Ozempic). She gave me some information the nutritionist I had talked to from my doctor’s office had already given me, then ordered Glucerna for me three times per day.

Glucerna is the diabetics version of Ensure for those of you who don’t know.

I slept a lot that day, and I’m pretty sure I refused lunch and maybe supper. They checked on me - and everybody else - every 15 minutes, but otherwise didn’t pester me.

The next day, of course, started the weekend. I can’t remember the exact schedule for the weekend, but it was far, far more boring than then weekday. There was just Community Meeting which I wandered into but didn’t participate in, a couple more courtyard opportunities than on the weekdays, more free time, Wrap Up and Relaxation. Relaxation happened at 9pm, but I already considered that bedtime as that was when I got my bedtime medication.

Sunday was just a repeat of Saturday with one bright exception. Sunday Sundaes. At around 2pm we got ice cream with sundae toppings that we could have on it. I don’t think I got it that first Sunday, but I can’t quite remember.

Monday doesn’t bring any particular memories except that that’s when I started attending a group here and there.

Meeting Nathan

Then Tuesday came, and I met Nathan. Nathan was a Psych intern who is now no longer there, so I’m not afraid of using his name. Nathan did 11am Psychotherapy, but had been on vacation the week before as well as Monday. I liked him instantly. He spoke quietly, thoughtfully, gently, and never pressed for answers if the person didn’t want to or couldn’t.

At first, we only spoke in group, but after one group disintegrated into chaos he ended it early and offered to speak to me one-on-one. The one-on-one time I got with Nathan, which eventually became every weekday, became the best, most helpful part of my stay at the Retreat. Some of his questions were hard. They were either highly thought provoking or brought on strong emotions, but he was very skilled in not pushing too hard and always bringing me back to the present if I got too lost in the past.

I think I opened up more to Nathan in the week and a half that we spoke than I ever did in the two years I’ve seen my normal therapist.

The Nightmares

I’ve suffered from nightmares for a very long time. In my nightmares I’ve been raped, had my home invaded, seen demons, had my parents stolen away by a dragon (that one happened twice. Same stupid dragon too.), been kidnapped, been chased around Wal-Mart by paramedics with a stretcher, and so on and so forth. The nightmares I suffered at the Retreat were something else entirely.

The dream I remember most, and let me list off some trigger warnings real quick: blood; abortion; abuse; infant death; decomposition; bad parenting; bad medical professionals, was about this young woman who tried to do some sort of home abortion that got botched. She went to the hospital and they sent her strait to surgery where they cut her open with no painkillers or anesthesia. The baby was tiny, but healthy and viable, so they took her out of the young woman’s womb, and haphazardly stapled the woman’s abdomen back together.

Then the dream began to focus on the baby, but not in linear time, but rather in snapshots. In the first snapshots the baby was fine. Pink, perfect, beautiful little girl dressed in frills. Then the next day’s photographs and the baby’s face was turning black in places. The next; her eyes turned murky and there was more decomposition. Mind you, while she’s decomposing, she’s still alive. Then her little fingers turn black and fall off, and it continues like this until the fifth day when the baby finally dies.

The mother, who was recovering from her own trauma, couldn’t have cared less about her baby.

The nightmare turned weird after that and I don’t remember what happened next, but I continued to have vicious nightmares during my stay there.

Dr. L tried to treat them with Prazosin. but I found that it made my nightmares more vivid. Then she tried to get me in a deeper sleep so the dreams wouldn’t wake me up, but that only got me caught in the nightmares and unable to wake up.

We never did figure out how to ease the nightmares and keep me asleep at the same time. Right now we’re trying a higher dose of Gabapentin, also known as Neurontin. I guess we’ll see how it works out.

Strange Characters

There were some...interesting characters at the Retreat. There was one guy who we’ll call J. You may recall him from my complaints about him being a computer hog. He suffered from delusions of grandeur and I believe psychosis. One time I was in the open area near the nurses station he began staring at me suspiciously. Then, after a couple of very awkward moments he asks me, “are you an Imperial or a Rebel?” I told him I had no idea what he was referring to. Miss J who was sitting near by goes, “she’s an imperial, she’s a good girl.” Then J nods and says “I know she’s my sister in Christ, so she must be good.”

I still have no idea what he meant by Imperial or Rebel. Is it a Star Wars thing? If so I thought the Rebels were the good guys. I’m so confused.

Miss J was a homeless woman who had been there for nearly nine weeks. She was very nice to me, but she mumbled a lot and I had to keep asking her to repeat herself.

M was a strange old lady. She would sit at the nurses station and laugh and laugh and laugh as loudly as she could, then all of the sudden she’d be declaring one of the housekeepers an angel on earth and how he should be protected and how everybody else was basically garbage. She eventually got taken out via ambulance.

A was another strange woman. Having been there since May 27th, 2021, she was there involuntary, She talked to herself a lot, drank loads of coffee, walked in and out of groups, and was best buddies with a woman who liked to be called Rabbit, as her real name, the same name as A, triggered her. A and Rabbit were thick as thieves and fed off of each other’s chaos.

Rabbit liked to sing at the top of her lungs when she was happy and when she was angry she would file a grievance, announce loudly that Obama was her father and that you (the nurse she was screaming at) aren’t her boss. She was nice enough to me, but I went out of my way to be as non-intrusive as possible.

Then there was D. D was 30-years-old, claimed to have 12 children. D was volatile, a substance abuser who enjoyed “a drink, some weed, and some coke”. Pretty sure she didn’t mean the soda. D had a shadow who had to write down what she was doing every five minutes. I don’t know exactly why, for the most part, volatile or not, she was pretty chill. She dressed provocatively and the first time she spoke to me it was early morning and we were on the porch.

She asked me why I was there. I told her depression. She asks my why I was depressed. I admitted that there was a lot of trauma in my past. She tells me she’s been (tw:rape) raped all her life, and then proceeded to tell me that I shouldn’t be depressed because I was pretty and thin. Now. I’m smaller than D was, because I’ve never had children, let alone 12 of them, but I’m 5′3″ and 210 pounds; thin is not an adjective I would use to describe me.

She then proceeds to tell me that I needed a better bra. I was wearing a soft low support sports bra, so yeah, my chest area was very un interesting. I told her I was just wearing something I could sleep comfortably in. She told me to shop at Victoria’s Secret for some better bras and I’d feel great.

After that, D decides to mention the gray in my hair. She says “you should get extensions to make your hair long and pretty, or better yet, shave your head and wear wigs. It’s what the black girls do.” She then went on about how wigs could really look good and how I’d have so much fun with it that I’d forget all about being depressed and how there were some sites where you could buy some good wigs for really cheap.

As I recall, I was fairly unresponsive during her spiel and walked away as soon as it wasn’t rude to.

The Really Bad Day

I don’t recall exactly what day it was, time blurs for me on a good day, and I wasn’t having any good days while I was at the Retreat, but one day was really bad.

TW: Suicide TW: Self-Harm

I was really, really suicidal, and I told the nurse I was talking to that. She asked if I had a plan, and for the first time I really did. I told her I would wait until right after a check - remember we got checked on every 15 minutes - then I would take a pair of my pants and wrap them around my neck and strangle myself.

Then she asked if I intended to follow through with the plan. I wanted to, I really did, but I also didn’t want to cause trouble, and that’s a huge issue with me, so I told her no. And that was the truth. I was suicidal, I did have a plan. I had a detailed plan actually. But I didn’t really intend of following through.

As you might expect, she had to report that to my doctor. Dr. L. spoke to me about how I was feeling and later, about five minutes after I had gotten on the computer to use Duolingo to distract myself, (See, I was using coping skills.), the nurse I had spoken to, and who I liked quite a lot, came to me and said that Dr. L wanted them to temporarily confiscate my clothes and take the sheet and blanket off my bed. It was to be replaced by blankets that couldn’t be ripped. Nurse E told me it wasn’t a punishment, it was a safety precaution, but I was so embarrassed and felt punished. I was allowed to keep the weighted blanket they had let me borrow, and my pillow, but other than that they took every bit of fabric in the room.

I don’t know if it was a good move or not. I just know that I wanted things back to ‘normal’, as though anything in a psych hospital could be normal, but the next day I lied to Dr. Lambert and told her I was feeling better. She said I could have my stuff back, but for some reason when I asked a nurse later on, she told me that there were no orders about it from Dr. L.

I asked again the next day and was finally able to get my linens and clothes back. I even got an extra pillow, for which I was very grateful for as my original pillow had been quite flat and hard.

The Road to Discharge

I was originally supposed to have been released on June 29th, a Tuesday, but I had to admit to Dr. L that I just didn’t feel like I could be safe at home yet. Not to mention that we were still trying to deal with my nightmares and sleep issues.

Dr. L and M, my social worker began giving me assignments to do. I was to fill out a safety plan, which I did. M had me write a letter to my regular therapist about the changes I needed her to make to improve our sessions. I am terrified to read it to her, but I really need to. I was given a huge stack of DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) information and worksheets to fill out, Nathan had me write something about a cousin of mine who had passed away due to an overdose of Fentanyl, and so I wrote her a letter telling her how much I missed her, how I was angry she was gone, disappointed that she couldn’t tell me she was back on drugs, how I was angry at her mom for getting her hooked on drugs in the first place, and ways I could have helped if she had just let me.

Meanwhile, people found out that I could make things out of the Model Magic that they had in the Contraband/Sensory room. I made I can’t even remember how many cats for people. I also made roses, and one dragon.

I was also writing dark poetry, just trying to purge my dark thoughts and get them out on paper.

Nathan continued to have one-on-one therapy with me each weekday, even if he only had half an hour.

I was meeting with my social worker daily, which they normally didn’t do, but when she realized that I wouldn’t go to them if I needed something, she decided to head it off, and meet with me, even if it were only a couple of minutes, each week day.

Finally, we decided on a day. Friday, July 2, 2021. I was so nervous, but so excited to come home and see my furbaby, Loki.

When the day came, I dressed in the nicest clothes that I had brought, which was a pair of elastic waist jeggings and my pink Cat Mom t-shirt which everybody loved. I only went to one group that day, and that was Psychotherapy, and I had my meeting with Nathan. I had one last meeting with Dr. L. and my social worker. My nurse that evening gave me my treatment plan which had my diagnoses. (Major depressive disorder, severe; Borderline Personality Disorder; and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Just as supper arrived I got the word that my ride was there.

Final Thoughts

Being at the Brattleboro Retreat was a difficult experience, but it was also a positive experience. In the beginning I was mad I wasn’t at the place where I had wanted to go, which was the Windham Center, but by the end of my first week there, I had decided to make the best of where I was. I didn’t like all the nurses, I definitely had my favorites and those I dreaded, not that they were ever mean to me, but I’m not sure, there’s just people you don’t like, you know?

I was on a great schedule while I was there. I was up no later than 8am and went to bed around 9pm, I ate at specific times. I got my medicine at specific times, and that routine was very comforting. Did I keep to it when I got home?

No. It’s currently 12:26 in the morning and I’m working on this still.

I’m still drinking my Glucerna, no matter that it costs me $40 a week for three a day, but I just don’t want to eat. Oh, I nibble. I’ve eaten some chocolate graham crackers and sipped on a 20oz Vanilla Coca Cola over the last four days. I just don’t eat.

I learned, while I was there, that it’s okay to speak up, to take up space, to have a voice, even if it’s quiet, I learned that it’s okay to get angry or ask for help. I can ask people for what I need. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to apply what I learned, but that’s always the hardest part of learning any new skill.

I know that this has been a huge amount of reading, but I wanted to give you a detailed example of what a psychiatric hospital is like. I hope that it informs you and I hope that if you’re heading to a psychiatric hospital or treatment center that maybe after reading this you’ll have less fear and anxiety because you have some clue as to what to expect.

I would also like to let my readers know that these are just my personal experiences in an American psychiatric hospital. I have no idea about British hospitals or European hospitals or even hospitals in other parts of the United States. My experiences in hospitals in Florida is a stark contrast to my experience in Vermont hospitals. I find Vermont’s response to medical care and psychiatric care in general is substantially better than Florida’s. I’ll do a post on that later.

Ask for help. Take up space. Use your voice.

National Suicide Hotline: 800 273-8255 Crisis Text Line: Text START to 741741

By the way, if you need me to tag another trigger word, please just send me a message and I’ll edit the tags to take your trigger word in consideration.

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lamafeeling · 4 years

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People who 1. Don’t have any mental illnesses or 2. Have the resources and support system to have a good therapist and have never had to struggle on their own will rail against self dx like it’s a blight to the community. They have no idea what goes into proper self dxing and how it compares to professional dxing. My depression developed when I was twelve and my anxiety followed shortly after, I know this, because I thoroughly researched the symptoms and I figured it out not long after the symptoms started. Age 15 I got a formal diagnosis for both right before I turned 16 I was started on medication for it. My process for figuring this out was talking to friends about how I had been feeling nonchalantly, they mentioned that it sounded like I was depressed so I started to research the symptoms, I found that I fit all the necessary symptoms set by reliable psychological sources as well and secondary symptoms, I checked multiple sources and then I settled on the diagnosis when I was satisfied. Here is how you are professionally diagnosed 1. Your therapist asks you a few questions off of a list to gage your symptoms 2. You take an assessment that you indicate the severity and frequency at which you experience the necessary and secondary symptoms, they add the results and you get a diagnosis. If anything my experience with prof dx is actually less thorough as there is less room for self doubt. I have other mental health issues but those are the only ones I have an on paper dx for, I say on paper as my therapist told me when I was 15 pretty early in our sessions that she strongly suspected that I was autistic. The time I had a therapist was pretty short, only a few months so the rest of my life, besides a hospitalization, I’ve been on my own. Diagnosis plays a huge role in being able to cope with and heal from mental illness. You can not solve a problem that you do not know. I recovered from OCD and an ED on my own. EDs are pretty easy to understand that you have if you’re able to get yourself to admit it but OCD can be more tricky as it shares symptoms with other disorders and is so often watered down to a quirky “oh I’m so fussy I need to clean a lot” type thing. I experienced OCD for a large amount of my late childhood and I later had it confirmed in inpatient care that that is what it was. I was just having an independent session and she asked if I had a history of OCD, I didn’t even bring it up. I didn’t and don’t have the resources to have a therapist and I’ve learned to assess myself and cope to the best of my ability. And to an extent, it works. I worked my ass off and fought tooth and nail even though it hurt to recover. It caused me physical and emotional pain to resist compulsions or to make myself eat but I did it and I did it on my own. I would not have been able to if I did not know what my problem was and I was not going to be taken to a therapist by my neglectful mother. Not to mention I have a lot of complex issues that even when I had a therapist, I was too nervous to talk about for fear of invalidation. I am in a DID system and even therapists that actually believe we exist often have no clue how we work and likely have an idea in their head akin to Sybil. The tortured soul that just wants to be whole again and all that crap. When that simply isn’t the truth for us and many other systems, I’m not even the original host and I really doubt most therapists can comprehend that. Even people with the resources to have a therapist, minorities and women are more often misdiagnosed or under diagnosed with certain mental illnesses and disabilities. Not to mention, some therapists almost outright refuse to diagnose certain disorders or will refuse to diagnose certain groups with those disorders and act as though it is hysteria, though they will not use that term most times. Having an official, on paper diagnosis of certain disabilities and disorders can put people in danger of discrimination in the future as well. An autism diagnosis can be used as a reason to revoke a parent’s custody of their child.

#mental health #long post #self dx #self dx positivity #self dx stigma #ableism mention #classism mention #ed mention #abuse mention #neglect mention #i hit the limit may write more later #im not debating this with people whove never had to deal with this

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sweatycatmentality-blog · 4 years

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suicide trial and error

A reflection on my past experiences living with an undiagnosed mental illness and the effects that my imbalanced state of mind had on my father’s own fragile mental health.

An all to common journey for families with members suffering from undiagnosed mental illness that leads to tragedy.

The story I am choosing to share is not one of happy times during my childhood. It is a tragedy for which I bear a great responsibility for. My father's death was completely preventable. The cause of his death shouldn’t be classified suicide - he was murdered by my lack of understanding of his disease fueled by the teenage narcissistic tendencies which were coupled with my own undiagnosed mental illness. I accept responsibility for my actions and only hope that sharing my experience will prevent this tragedy from happening to someone else.

My relationship with my dad was always turbulent. It was cyclical, based on his mood and my own. There were ups and downs, always fueled with admiration or hatred, never anything in between. I’d only realize later in life that this was because we both suffered from untreated mental health issues - specifically bipolar and depression - the love/hate cycles coincided with our manic and depressed episodes. During the manic episodes we’d bond over our far-fetched dreams, each feeding the lies to each other of what was possible instead of accepting reality. As quickly as those episodes came, the depression crept in. This was heightened by drug and alcohol addiction on my dad’s part. Me, well I felt isolated from everyone despite having the appearance of a social life. I dealt with the feelings of being unwanted, unsuccessful, a burden on my family and friends. I questioned everyone’s perception of me, giving weight to the hurtful things bullies in school said about me, not realizing that they picked on me not because of my looks or because my family wasn’t rich, but because they got the best reactions from me. My anger and sadness shined through.

During these low points I became hostile towards my family, I was filled with rage and angry at the cards I had been dealt in terms of my family’s lack of money and the embarrassment I had of my father and how he acted - totally unpredictable, would he be sober or messed up. I lacked understanding of mental illness and didn’t know how to be empathetic towards him, primarily because I didn’t realize that he had a disease which was undiagnosed until he was in his 50s. My inability to comprehend the symptoms of his *(and my own) disease made my relationship with him unhealthy and detrimental to the wellbeing of both of us.

I remember the first glimpse I had at the severe impact my awful, unforgiving, and uncompassionate attitude had on him was when I was in 9th grade. I sat at the kitchen table with my mom and dad on either side of me. My dad had cooked dinner, and like he always did when he chose to cook, he left the kitchen a complete disaster for my mom and me to clean up. I never understood how he could create such a mess and have no consideration for us having to clean it up. After he said dinner was ready, I always commented on the state of the kitchen to which he replied - I cooked, you all can clean. That was how it always went.

This dinner started out the same as it always did, we said grace holding hands. The words had lost all meaning at this stage of my life. I couldn’t grasp what it was to be grateful for the food we had on the table or the roof over our heads. I was a self-absorbed, ungrateful teenager and an asshole. I see that now looking back.

After saying grace my father said “Cha (his nickname for my mom, Charlotte) get me the salt.” This sparked a fury in me as he was clearly sitting much closer to the cabinet that the salt was in and I felt as though he thought he could command my mom to fetch the salt for him merely because he cooked dinner. That wasn’t part of the deal - we cleaned, and he cooked, we were not his servants. Before I realized what I was saying I blurted out, “Why don’t you get it your f***ing self.” Silence. The next few minutes were a blur, but I believe he called me a b***h before getting up and grabbing his keys at which point my mom and I pleaded for him to stay and sit back down. We knew he was going to the bar like he always did when my mom or I commented on his drinking or exorbitant spending. His reaction was always predictable - he was never wrong, that drink or that new tech-device that we didn’t need and couldn’t afford was always justified. I have vivid memories of mom standing between him and the door begging him not to go to the bar and I would apologize profusely (most of the time) to no avail.

This time was no different initially, he’d say to my mom to get out of his way in a deep scary tone which I knew far too well. The tone was that of rage and undeniable hatred towards us. Blaming us for disrupting a family dinner and causing him to go to the bar. Placing all the blame for the arguments on us and taking no responsibility in his role as the cause. This time when he charged for the front door in my gut, I knew that once he walked out that door everything in our lives would change for the worse. Upon his exit, I sensed that my mom shared my uneasy feeling.

Reflecting on the incident, I am sure she felt disappointment that I once again opened my mouth and threw a match on the otherwise painless dinner. Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut or just gotten him the damn salt myself, thereby conveying my disapproval of his commanding my mom to do his bidding but keeping the peace by still appeasing him by fulfilling that command. My mom knew that I was trying to stand up for her because in my eyes she never stood up for herself when he spoke down to her. However, this time I could see her sadness and annoyance at me. I apologized to her again, but the damage was done.

Some time passed and my mom and I sat silently at the table not touching our plates. The dread of not knowing how he was reacting to my attack was dredging up a mass of emotions inside me. I felt ashamed and contrite, but it was too late to express those thoughts to him. He would never listen to me anyways; he needed to cool down before I apologized to him. My mom called and called my dad but was unable to reach him. He had turned his phone off. At this point I knew something terrible was going to happen. I ordered my mom to get into the car - I was 15 years old so I only had a learner’s permit - we racked our brains as we drove around to the local bars or places, we thought he might go. My mom called all of his friends, but none had heard from him. Our worry heightened when I suddenly had the idea to check the local community theater shop/rehearsal space where my mom and he volunteered. He had a key. As we were en route I called the police and asked them to meet us there informing them that I thought my dad was going to kill himself. Of course, the dispatcher immediately asks where he is and I say that I think he is at the shop, giving them the address, then they ask if he has a weapon. I had no clue. I realized I didn’t know what he was truly intending and by what means. It was the first time I recall feeling a tremendous amount of guilt for how I treated him. I had caused him so much pain that he didn’t want to live any longer.

We pulled into the parking lot and saw his car, the cops weren’t there yet, but I ran into the shop. The door was unlocked and flung open to reveal my father on one of those lifts that utility workers use to fix telephone poles; a noose was around a rafter and the loop lay in his hands. He motioned to position his head through the loop and my mother, and I screamed for him to stop. We were pleading and apologizing, but he had no intention of stopping. This was how he was going to punish me for good. This was how he would make me learn the power of my words and the anguish and pain that they can cause. The cops entered and began asking whether he was armed, to which I screamed no and to f***ing help save him. They ordered him to come down and talk, always speaking in stern yet compassionate voices. Finally, he was down on the ground and they escorted him into the cop car. The cops said that he would be taken to a psychiatric hospital and held for 48-72 hours on an involuntary basis. After that a judge would inform us if we could seek to continue involuntary inpatient treatment based on his doctors’ opinions. Or he could volunteer to be admitted for continued inpatient psychiatric treatment - which of course he felt that he didn’t need despite his suicide attempt.

Over the next several years there would be more attempts at suicide, all of which would occur when only I was around to deal with it. It was as if he was trying to mess with me and to show me how awful of a person he thought me to be. In retrospect, I do acknowledge that as an undiagnosed and therefore untreated person suffering from the same disease as him, I played a huge role in his untimely death. All the attempts leading up to his successful suicide in 2008 were inflicted by my irresponsible frame of mind and inability to be empathetic towards his condition. I must deal with that awareness for the rest of my life and it plagues me every day.

I am sharing this story not only as a means of self-therapy, hoping that it will help me accept that I was not myself during the period of my life in which he took his life and that he too played a major role in his own self-destruction. I also hope that by sharing this tragedy with others that it will expose how prevalent mental health issues are in society for people of all ages and that without adequate diagnostic opportunities of our youth we will inevitably see more tragedies unearthed in our aging populations. Too many people go through life no knowing that their pain is due to chemical imbalances and can be treated. However even with increasing exposure to diagnostic opportunities, limited treatment options for the lower-income populations will continue to prevent those who truly need help from being able to receive it. We must do better as a society. We owe it to our youth to find solutions to make life easier for them to cope with. Life should be cherished and not taken advantage of. By increasing awareness of the prevalence of mental health issues in society we can only better the livelihood of all.

#mental heath support #mental illness #bipolar #depression #regret #suicide #drunk #self improvement #awareness #suicideawareness #crazy girl #moodoftheday

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sheepsandcattle · 4 years

Text

Chapter 23

Everything feels totally different after that moment in his car. They go bowling again and Jordan kisses him when he gets a strike – and when he misses every single pin, too. They go to the museum and it’s absolutely shit, but they end up snogging next to a spitfire or something and that makes it all worth while.

When they’re out together, Jordan does this thing where he glares at anyone that so much as glances their way. For a little while Curly figured it was a possessive thing, until one night when they’d slipped out of the staff entrance of Hoax where they shared a spliff in the alleyway.

Some poor sod had walked by at the wrong time -just as J had crowded Curls against the wall and swooped in to kiss him- and just as the bloke’s eyes had scanned over their general direction, his footsteps had caught both their attention.

Already a few beers in, J was a little more defensive than usual when he pushed himself away from the wall and took a few steps towards the stranger, calling “what, never seen two fags share a J, pal?” Thankfully, a quick pull back towards the wall and Curly’s arms around his shoulders, tugging him into the kiss they’d stalled, was all it took to pull Jordan’s mind away from the fella that was already speeding out of the alley.

***

“It’s so weird,” Dean says over his shoulder one night when they’re in the same scrubby park they used to hang out in with Jules and Oscar. Tonight, they’ve been switched out for Jordan, and Curly absolutely is not complaining. “Being back here. It’s so fucking dumb.”

There are no stolen kisses or tangled fingers tonight. No hands in back pockets or tucked into jackets for warmth. It’s nights like these when he regrets asking to keep this to themselves for longer; nights like these that make him wonder if it really is the thrill of the secret, or that niggling fear in the back of his mind that has him too nervous to tell his closest friends about the best factor in his life.

“Shut up,” Curly grumbles, mostly focussed on the microscopic instructions that he’s trying his best to illuminate with the light of his phone screen. “How the fuck—“

“It’s not that hard, Curls. Just stick it in the ground and light the fucking end,” Jordan cuts in, sounding inpatient but when Curly looks up he’s smiling in amusement. “I’ll do it. You’ll blow your arm off.”

He wants to argue, but he’s probably right. The last time Curly tried to light a firework, it all went sideways. Literally, the firework went sideways, skidded across the field and exploded in the grass. He’s still not sure how he managed that; Brandon said the Jäger probably didn’t help – not to mention the fact that they’d both pulled a whitey about an hour later. That was exactly five years ago; the first time he spent bonfire night with his mates instead of his family.

Jeff’s sat under the gazebo a few paces back and Curly joins him, hissing when the cold metal bites at his arse and thighs through his trousers. Dean’s looming over Jordan now, critiquing his approach as the man tries to bat him away from his shoulder. After some half-arsed wrestling, they both seem to have a firework each, and he hears Dean count them in, lighting the two at the same time before they retreat quickly.

J perches on the arm of the bench beside him and his fingers land on the back Curly’s neck, freezing skin pulling a shiver from him before they creep into his hair. Jeff and Dean are too distracted, all four pairs of eyes now following the balls of light that shoot up from the ground. It screeches, bangs, then explodes into sparks and colour and Curly’s probably the only one grinning, but he reckons they all get a kick out of it.

“Alright then,” he chimes when they fizzle out, “light the next ones.”

“Your turn,” Jordan reaches behind Curly to nudge Dean, who drags Jeff with him for the second round.

Now with a full bench to themselves, he shuffles over to allow Jordan enough space to slip into the gap beside him, stretching an arm around Curly, along the back of the bench.

He says, “I like these,” as his other hand lands on his thigh, pale skin spread over plaid and he turns a bit in his seat. He’s not sure if Jordan had planned for the touch to linger, but it does as he adds, “a lot.”

“Yeah? Cheers.” It’s a shit response to his boyfriend’s palm creeping up the inside of his thigh, but just because they’d sent a few suggestive texts the night before doesn’t mean Curly has the foggiest fucking idea how this shit works.

He loses the contact after that anyway, J instead using the hand to point towards their friends. “What’s this for again?”

Curly just shrugs, still smiling. “Blowing up parliament or summet.”

Jeff and Dean manage to light two each without losing any fingers, and even manage to run back in at just the right time to stagger a few more. J’s leg’s doing that thing it does; bouncing and jittering against Curly’s, and he almost gives in and swings a thigh over his knee like he usually would but manages to stop himself.

He’s not sure why keeping quite during a firework display feels so impossible for him, but with every flash and band, he’s cheering or whooping before he can even stop himself. Jeff is either on his page or just trying to humour him when he says, “that was a good one,” after a particularly bright sputter of pink spreads particularly far and wide.

J hums in response to that, although there’s no chance Jeff can hear from Curly’s other side. Jordan’s jittery leg nudged him a few times though, whenever Curly finds himself gasping or clapping like a puff. Whenever his knee knocks his, Curls turns to find him smiling dead-ahead, like he thinks he’s being subtle.

The most annoying part is that he knows that Jeff and Dean wouldn’t think badly of him if they knew.

Two of their best friends getting together would be weird, fair, but they could all live with it. It’s less about him and J together though -because they love Jordan, doesn’t matter who he fancies- and more about just… Him, alone. Having a boyfriend – a person in general. Lonely Curly falling in love or whatever it is he’s doing. It just doesn’t feel like him; feels like he’s made it all up; trying to be someone it’s not.

Does it suit him? Fuck knows – he has nobody to ask.

What a daft thing to be stressed about.

Halfway through the light show, he hears Jordan huff by his side as he shifts to dig inside his coat, and only then does he realise that his leg’s gone still. Curls doesn’t mean to watch but notices an unlisted number glow on the screen before Jordan answers.

The person on the other side of the line mustn’t have had the chance to say a word before Jordan starts with, “I told you I don’t wanna hear it anymore. I—”

The fireworks screech again, and more flashes of light follow a handful of bangs and rumbles. Curls doesn’t see them, but he sees Jordan’s face turn from pink to blue to green as he scowls up at the sky. He stares the sounds into silence.

“I told you—I said don’t fuckin’ call this time.” A pause. Curly can hear a hum on the other line but can’t make out a word of it. “Yeah, same fucking story. What do you want me to do about it? Give her a medal or another hit?” New York roots creep through, his accent loosening as he becomes more heated. He adds, “no, fuck you. She’s your problem pal, not mine.”

He snatches his phone from his ear as he ends the call, then just sort of stares at it like it’s all the phones fault. Curls wants to ask, but he’s not sure it’s allowed. Dean does it for him.

“Jord,” he says firmly, like he’s been here before and he knows the drill. “You good?”

Jordan’s not good. He’s definitely not ‘good’ as he stands from the bench and lobs his phone across the field to make a point of the fact.

Dean tries again, says, “hey—“ but Jordan shouts over him. No proper words or anything, just a loud scream-shout which might have had a distorted fuck! mingled onto the end of it but Curly can’t be sure.

They all just watch as J storms across the field, hands locked together behind his head as he walks towards the trees that line the perimeter, until he untangles his fingers in favour of pulling his hood over his head once he’s made some distance. Curly’s got no clue what’s going on, but he begins to rise from the bench as he says, “I’ll go—“

“Don’t,” Jeff warns. “He won’t want company.”

But Curls doesn’t feel right just sat on the bench while his fella sulks in the woods, so he stands anyway, shaking his head to dismiss Jeff’s warning and the uncertain look that Dean’s got about him. “I’ll check he’s alright.” He doesn’t mean to sound as defiant as he does. “Look for his phone, lads,” he suggests, mostly to butter up the stubbornness of his first statement.

He thinks it’s Jeff that says, “rather him than me,” and Dean who hums in response as Curly walks away from them.

The ground is muddy; the November air biting at his ankles after wet blades of grass -tall enough to pass the top of his boots- sweep over the cuffed legs of his trousers and leave the fabric freezing against his skin.

By the time he catches up to Jordan, he’s a yard or so into the wooded area. He’s leant back against a tree as he chews at the end of his thumb, face set in a hard frown as he looks dead ahead.

“Talk to me,” Curls offers when he’s finally at his side. “What’s going on?”

Jordan doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. He looks off into the trees as he cracks his fingers, and Curly uses his initiative: digs a pack out of his coat and wriggles the lighter out of his front trouser pocket. He doesn’t get a chance to light it though, when J reaches out, fingers hooking beneath the waistline of Curly’s trousers to pull him in. Curls hands rest on the curves of his shoulders, and he waits a little longer for his explanation.

With another short tug though, Curly’s pulled closer still and J’s got his nose pressed behind his ear as his arms circle his waist beneath his trench coat. He expects him to kiss him, but he just breathes.

“Say summet, J,” he sighs as he closes his fists around the items in his hands in favour of wrapping Jordan’s shoulders up in a hug. Even considering the events that brought them here, in the woods in the winter at 10pm, it’s nice. He almost forgets that he’s the one doing the comforting.

But then Jordan says, “you gotta get off that shit, Curls,” and all previous thoughts of warmth vanish as quickly as they came, because he speaks through his teeth like it pains him to say it, before he leans back against the bark.

It feels like it comes out of nowhere - and neither of them can bring themselves to look the other in the eye. Curls feels the urge to say sorry, but he swallows his apology down and watches Jordan’s chest instead as he lights up.

Jordan sniffs, wipes a hand over his mouth like he does sometimes when he’s talking shit about someone but wants to make a point of the fact that he’s not overly invested in it. J doesn’t like to show his humanity to his friends where he can help it.

“My mom’s been killing herself for twenty years,” he then adds, and that accent is still there; the one he always has but Curly doesn’t always quite catch. “I’m so fucking tired of it that I catch myself just… Waiting for it to happen already.”

He wishes he knew what to say, but he hasn’t got a clue. Jordan only ever really talks about his mum from a retrospective point, like the problems they’ve had are in the past tense. The fact that she’s still ill is no secret, but Jordan tends to avoid the topic of her current state like it’s too close to home. Hearing it now feels like a shock to the system.

Curls just nods, because what can he say? ‘She’ll be alright’? Well, will she?

“I’m trying,” he says pathetically, and Jordan raises his head then, but Curly still can’t. The guilt makes his muscles ache and his skin itch; makes him want to fidget and retreat; to finish his cig and then light another and another just so he doesn’t have to speak. It’s that same discomfort he feels when he’s waiting for a hit, or that helpless feeling after you hear some bad news and you don’t know what to do about it. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this kind of guilt. Hadn’t expected to feel it so suddenly tonight.

“Let me help you, I can’t—” J shakes his head, rubs a hand over his mouth again. “I won’t watch you get like that.”

He doesn’t know what ‘that’ is, but he almost wants to laugh. Doesn’t Jordan know that he is helping him? Does he not realise that Curly’s barely been thinking about drugs recently? At least not between hits. He can’t remember the last time his day was ruined by the agony of empty veins.

“One of these days I’ll get a call telling me she’s dead.” His face is chilling; chillingly void as he speaks, like he’s trained himself to do so. He swallows. “I think I’ll be relieved when it happens, and it makes me feel so guilty I feel sick.”

The man’s lips are against his cheek then, more just a press of his mouth than an actual kiss. “And after that happens, I don’t wanna feel that way about anybody ever again.”

‘After that happens.’ He avoids the words, but they still hang heavy. After she’s dead; after the weight’s off his shoulders.

“Please, Curly.”

He’s not that bad anymore.

“Curls.”

Except he still does it, he supposes. Just as much as he did the last time he and Jordan were together. It’s just that, when he’s missing a hit, he’s replacing it with something else; something more ‘acceptable’; easier to say out loud. And the last time Jordan tried to help, Curly bit his head off -high on coke and withdrawing from heroin- and then fucked off for a couple of months.

Now Jordan’s begging for him to let him help.

He’s not that bad though, is he?

He rolls his tongue around in his mouth, conscious now of his words. It’s illogical - he’s not had a hit since this afternoon when he took Oxy; chased the headache that he knew withdrawals were to blame for. Suddenly though, he’s worried he’ll slur, so he nods, even if it feels more like he’s humouring Jordan than challenging himself.

It works though because Jordan’s face is soft now - still blank, but soft. He’s seen this face before; it’s the expression that settles in when Jordan’s talking about Curly. It’s the face he saw right before they kissed for the first time and when he told Jordan his real name and felt his neck get warm. It’s a face that tells Curly that he’s things on his mind, but it’s where he wants them to stay - is happy to keep them there.

He’s not that bad.

“They’ll think you’ve decked me if we stay here much longer,” he finally says, and holds his fag towards Jordan, who takes it with a nod.

His other hand is cold when it slips beneath Curly’s top. He says, “we better get back, then,” but then pulls him into a kiss anyway.

#Curly is not good at reassurance when it's himself he's reassuring someone about lol #ch #ch23 #writing

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believeinthewolfstar · 5 years

Text

Medicine

The blinding morning light, streamed through the curtains and fanned over Remus’ tanned skin, and made his sparkling whiskey colored eyes glow with the light of the rising sun. He was always a morning person, he enjoyed watching the birds awaken with a song off the day, each one is different, it's never the same song twice.

But, his boyfriend was not a morning person. Yes, I said boyfriend, the half-blood werewolf kid with self-esteem issues is gay. And quite frankly, he very much enjoys it that way. His boyfriends messy Raven colored curls of hair, were sprawled out against, the pale skin of his scarred arms. His milky complexion contrasted against, Remus's sun kissed body. His compelling grey eyes were closed softly, and his long eyelashes rested against against his cheekbones.

Remus smiled down at the boy, and couldn't believe how he had gotten so lucky. Sirius's head was resting on his boyfriends arm, and Remus used his hand to caress the soft strands of curly hair that rested upon his head. Remus leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. He was always hesitant to leave Sirius in the mornings, he was scared that he would wake up to night terrors. And besides Remus loved wrapping the smaller boy in his arms, and how completely at bliss and content he looked while he slept.

But, ever so grumpily he slunked out of bed, and into the kitchen. He knew that his boyfriend wasn't hungry in the mornings, and he also knew that he that he didn't get enough sugars or proteins during the day. So Remus makes sure that he gets enough of each, Because nobody wants to deal with padfoot otherwise. He can get snappy, and short-tempered. He also has a tendency to push people away, but he trusts his moony and will let Remus take care of him need be.

But, Remus' couldn't cook. There was just so many confusing flavors and his slight burning problem. Though Sirius always found his confusion cute, he thought Remus trying to cook was endearing. Remus' didn't. So he grudgingly tried to cook some pancakes for breakfast. Key word: tried. But, hey, it's good enough.

The lumpy piles of shit -otherwise known as pancakes- sat on the counter, to him they looked completely unpleasant and boring. ‘It’ll be good enough’ he sighed.

The loud thumping of footsteps broke him out if his thoughts, he looked up the stairs at his boyfriend. Sirius looked a mix between half-dead and half-asleep. (Though honestly what's the difference) His tousled hair, sat unevenly proportioned, some pieces were sticking up, while other were plastered on his forehead.

Remus walked over to him slowly, and placed a soft kiss on his nose.

“You left me” Sirius whined. They stood face to face, well, more like face to chest. Remus had been oddly tall. There was periods of time were he was incredibly lanky. Until he started working out. He started working it because he constantly felt tense and that there was to many uncontrollable aspects of life, and he was sick and tired of it. But, burning muscles and a aching chest was a pain that he could control. (It's not like Sirius is complaining)

When he didn't get an answer, to his statement Sirius huffed irritably and laid his cheek against his lovers firm chest.

“Tired” He called out after a few minutes, to nobody in particular.

“I know you are, Babe. Nightmares?” He asked, although he knew the answer. The way Sirius's body shook, like a leaf in the wind, and the hair plastered against his sweaty forehead. Gave him all the clues he needed.

Sirius nodded against his chest, and nuzzled closer. Remus rubbed circles on the back of his shoulders and gently moved him to the couch, and layed down on the soft fabric, with Siruis resting comfortably between his legs, head still firmly placed on his chest. Sirius used to be screamed at to tears, and thrown into the dingy cellar without food. And he has nightmares of the endless slamming doors, and the putrid smell of his mother's perfume. (Lilly had bought a perfume like that once and Sirius had a panic attack, they don't talk about it)

After a few minutes, Remus felt Sirius' breathe even out. He was asleep. He placed a soft kiss to the hairs on top Sirius's head and took a sip of his tea.

A few moments later they were still in the same position, Sirius rested against Remus's chest as the taller male read a book. Though he didn't necessarily like the topic, but he enjoyed the authors writing and how easily the words flowed on the page. So, it was worth it.

Then Sirius moved his head so it was rested against the book, trying to get his boyfriends attention. But, he didn't get it, not because he didn't care (because, of course Remus cared) but because, the book was in the middle of the page, who stops in the middle if the page?

Suddenly the books covers were closed as Sirius had gotten inpatient. Remus sighed. Everything about Sirius was so pure and beautiful, but he can be hard to handle sometimes. Especially when he got needy. But, it was all part of the package that is Sirius Black, and Remus wouldn't have it any other way.

“Stop reading, and pay attention to me, you nerd”

Well at least he was feeling better.

“Okay, okay. Let's eat, I made pancakes.” Sirius scrunched up his nose at, Remus. Which made the taller male scoff.

“Don't look so excited”

“I'll try”

Remus smiled, he knew Sirius would be okay. A couple kisses, maybe a nap or two. Remus was his medicine. And he loves him.

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loverboyhyunjin-archived · 6 years

Text

puppy love. taehyung

summary = taehyung's best day off yet

word count: 1636

genre: fluff

notes: happy belated birthday @01mlks!! I was meant to post this yesterday but it wasn't finished,,,, but I hope you enjoy it! I'll see you soon to give you an actual gift but for now this is it 💘💞

(add read more later)

a warm saturday morning, the sun had settled high in the sky, you sat on your small balcony table, looking out at the city scenery. it was peaceful, the city was still slowly waking up, becoming busier and busier with every passing minute. taehyung, on the other hand, was still fast asleep, hugging your discarded pillow - both arms and legs wrapped around it as if it were you - and the morning sun light was softly kissing his rosy cheeks.

as soon as his face hit the pillow, last night, he was out like a light. his work load was ever increasing and it burdened you. he worked in a profession that you hadn't the slightest clue about, therefore you couldn't help him with his work, it hurt you to see him so tired and so stressed all the time.

you had decided that on this calming spring day, you would take him out so he could relax. even if it was a simple drink at the local café, anything to help him.

you placed your mug on the coaster, the clink disrupting taehyung's light sleep. he rolled onto his back and sat up, rubbing his eyes, pillow still in his grip. "love?" he called out, looking around for you.

you stood up from your chair, moving the curtains away, and walked into the room, "I'm here." you replied, sitting down next to him.

his eyes were still filled with sleep, a small yawn leaving his mouth. you leaned in, your thumb rubbing his cheeks, and gave him a love filled kiss. he grinned into the kiss, eyes closed.

you suddenly parted from him, standing up and making your way to the bedroom door, before you left the room you turned to taehyung, "come have breakfast" you said, before slipping out of the door.

he chucked, eyes still closed, before he laid back down.

after around five minutes of rolling around in bed, taehyung finally found the will to get out of bed - meaning he could smell you cooking pancakes. he slipped on a tshirt and walked to the kitchen, sitting down at the island.

as he ran his hand through his bed hair, you placed his plate and mug of coffee in front of him. you sat next to him, waiting for him to start eating before you did.

the two of you ate in a comfortable silence, one of your morning playlists playing in the background, before you turned to him. "do you have anything to do today?" you asked him.

he placed his mug on the surface, "nope" he sounded relieved and you weren't surprised by it in the slightest.

you clapped your hands together before saying "good, we're going to go out today!"

"really? don't you have work today?," he thought out loud before continuing, "either way it's not like I mind."

"I sure hope not," you joked, standing up and taking both of your plates to the sink. "you should go get ready." you suggest. he nodded his head, getting up from his seat and making his way to the bathroom to ready himself.

you were excited for the day, you had so much planned and you knew he would enjoy them. you thought of all the things he loved to do ranging from petting dogs to traveling country to country, and picked some that were do-able in your area.

after you had cleaned up and gotten yourself ready, you sat at the end of your bed waiting for taehyung to finish. you were wearing a simple baggy jumper with some mum jeans and trainers. next to you sat your tote bag filled with things needed for the day, they weren't required but you thought they would come in use and make your day even more worthwhile.

taehyung ran into the room and landed on the bed, shouting "done!"

you laughed, locking your phone, "I can tell." you smacked his behind before standing up, "time to go." you told him,, checking your watch for the time - 9:24am.

he loudly cheered, following you through your apartment and out of the door.

the two of you spent the day going around the city and exploring places you hadn't before - even if the two of you had lived there for a while - going to newly built playgrounds and happily eating lunch next to the river.

though the day was fun and eventful, you could only focus on taehyung and the smile he was constantly displaying. he was so excited about everything he saw, even if he'd seen it already, he just loved the world so much.

at one moment you both passed a quiet art store, which he seemed over the moon about, taking your hand and pulling you in to look at the art works they had. some he recognised and others he didn't but he saw one that made his eyes light up. he tapped your arm and showed you it, explaining to you how much he loved it and why, how it made him feel and what he knew about the unpopular artist.

it was nice to see him so effortlessly infatuated by something so big yet so simple, the way he talked was so complex but at the same time so understandable.

and now you were at your final destination: a dog café and when taehyung realised, he let out a loud 'yay!' in glee and span hopped from one leg to the other.

"ohhh! I'm excited!" he stated, grabbing your hand and leading you into the store. you laughed, not attempting to stop him in anyway.

he tried to calm down, though unable to, so he could place your order but his voice was loud and clear - something that the store owners didn't hear often but they appreciated it, it was nice to see someone so enthusiastic about something as small as a simple café, it was refreshing.

after ordering he immediately went and sat in the corner; it was designed in such a way so the dogs couldn't get to your food but you could get to the dogs, having pillows on the seats for comfort and a container of treats to feed them.

"y/n," he stared, gaining your attention. his face was void of emotion staring directly at you, "I.. love this so much!" he let out, face suddenly drowned in emotion. his smile spread to you, deeming you unable to resist the temptation of smiling back at him, so you didn't.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." you tell him, turning quickly to say thank you to the waiter, once she gave you your drinks.

the two of you casually made conversation, talking about things that you hadn't through out the day, before he got distracted and went to play with the few puppies that were there.

you quietly sat in the corner, sipping your drink, watching taehyung mess around with the puppies. he had always loved dogs, since he was young and the two of you thought that they were the one type of pet that could keep up with the amount of energy he always had.

you smiled, knowing that he would absolutely love the next surprise you had for him.

it was the late afternoon when you had got to you front door, you strolled into your apartment to taehyung's confusion.

"didn't you lock the door?" he asked

"yep." he scratched his head, about to begin talking again when you beat him to it. "I have one last thing for you," you told him, bringing him into the hallway.

he nodded his head, already inpatient to find out what you had for him - until he heard a little yap and a voice go 'shh'. he immediately turned to you, fearing for the worst, but you just simple winked at him.

you took his hand, for the nth time that day, and brought him into he living room for him to see... "jungkook? why are you here?" he asked, why would jungkook be his surprise? he wondered.

he rolled his eyes, extending arms to show taehyung the smallest puppy he had ever seen. "wow! I didn't know you got a dog!" he exclaimed, congratulating jungkook. when neither you or jungkook said a word, he caught on, his lips shaping into an 'o'

"ohhh, I understand," he confirmed, turning to you, letting out the biggest smile you had seen all day. engulfing you in a hug and swaying the both of you from side to side, before taking the small pup from jungkook's hands to his own.

he turned to you as if to ask what the pup's name was, "you choose." you told him

"yeontan." he said as soon as, it was as if he had had the name ready all his life. he lifted the now named pup up to his face gaining his a small lick on his nose, he let out a giggle which made your heart swing.

and so the rest of the afternoon went by in a flash, you watching taehyung play with 'his son yeontan' as he called him. before the two of you were laying in bed, yeontan already fast asleep on his bed, whist taehyung had his hands already placed around your waist, seemingly tired from the long day he had had.

"thank you," he whispered into your hair, placing a kiss to your forehead. "I loved today."

"that was the plan." you jokingly responded, reciprocating his kiss with one to his cheek. "you looked so stressed, so I wanted to do something for you."

"just being around is enough for me." he confessed, eyes closed and on the verge of falling to sleep.

"goodnight," you said giving him one last kiss before closing your eyes, "I love you."

#idk if youve realised yet #but a lot of my fics end with i love you #damb #but yesh here #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts fluff #v scenarios #v fluff #v scenario #bangtan scenarios #bangtan fluff #chloe💫

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punkpal · 4 years

Note

Hi! how are you doing today? don’t worry yourself about trying to find any hints in my messages, i don’t think that i’ve been dropping any (that i know of), i was just wondering if you had any suspicions. i hope that today you are able to think positively and you can spend some time doing something that you enjoy ❤️❤️ - a (that’s the first letter of my name. don’t stress about trying to figure it out, but if you think you know you can send me a message if you want ☺️)

Today i woke up and was immediately disappointed when i logged onto Netflix to start the much anticipated season 2 of The Umbrella Academy only to realize it isn’t due for release until Americas July 31st not Australias July 31st. So yeah was low bummed to realize i have to wait some more for that. Also the fact my town has now gone back into a full self isolation lock down mode by legal requirement. As our second wave has officially statistically become worse then the first wave made for a pretty mediocre at best beginning for what otherwise was looking to be a semi better day. But all those things aside i am doing okay. And at least now that life is going backwards in terms of covid progression i have a new tv series to look forward to with excitement even if via a somewhat inpatient anticipation. And at least now i have tomorrow to look forward to when it becomes Americas today if that makes sense. But yeah as for plans for today i don’t have jackshit on worth looking forward to so boredom is a much more anticipated reality to be expected for the remainder of this day. But at least i have had the pleasure of an interruption from the boredom via your message. Which has come at a good time in terms of breaking up my day and providing much needed and desired entertainment and socializing. So thanks for once again pulling through and being the friend i needed but was too scared to ask for. As always your message came at the perfect time and was/is a source of enjoyment that i will have you know i do not take for granted in the slightest. So thanks so much.

And as for the hint you gave about your identity it does align with a semi cohesive suspicion/theory i have about who you may be. But now i have a clue i am more uncertain then before, because now i can eliminate most potentials but also have to add the possibility of it being others. As i’d hate to guess and be wrong especially now i have the upper hand with a clue. So please don’t anticipate a message from me to your account inquiring about who you are and if i guessed correctly. Because now if anything i am questioning everything more now that i have information to work with and an increased in expectations to figure it out placed upon myself (by myself) because of this. Basically even if i become even more certain of your identity (which likely won’t be the case because i am certain about very few things in life) i will not be the one to approach with my suspicions purely on the basis i am afraid of being wrong and looking like an idiot.

But i do like the added chapter to this plot in regards to filling in some blank spaces and questions i had, whilst raising other questions and amplifying doubts. It leads this to feeling like a mystery and whilst i have no faith whatsoever that i will be able to solve this mystery even if you give me almost all the pieces to the puzzle. It does spice things up and has for sure peaked my curiosity despite knowing my theorizing will ultimately not get me anywhere. So i guess thanks for sending me on a treasure hunt despite the fact i am too dumb to figure out how to use a compass and therefor feel highly unequipped to succeed in this mysterious mission. I hope you take this into account and eventually once you feel comfortable just solve this mystery for me so i am not left wondering for the rest of my days. But until you feel able to come forward i will continue trying to locate north and work from there as we communicate anonymously like via letters in a bottle. Jesus, i really took that metaphor and just sailed with it, huh (did it again, fuck). But yeah thanks for the clue. I will ponder over it until it drives me insane and hopefully by then i will have figured it out or had you just tell me. But this does provide me with the entertainment you hoped i would find and that i thought i had lost once discovering the delay of The Umbrella Academy season 2. So i guess thanks for indirectly and likely accidentally giving me a purpose for the day and something to do and enjoy.

I hope you have a good day and that even if you have to search hard to find it, discovered something worth focusing on that provide a level of enjoyment for yourself. And that life in general is good to you today and nothing other then positive and hopeful. And i look forward to talking to you again tomorrow my dear and mysterious A.

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scriddleraesth-blog · 7 years

Text

made a folklore au that is prob gonna get very long and i havent thought of a title yet so uh yeah. ed’s a frickin leprechaun so theres that.

The room he’s found himself in is cold, no doubt the humans had neglected their exchange of printed goods for the promise of the luxuries that decent ones once provided for themselves with stove and hearth. He muses how much of the old arts are lost as he stumbles his way along, cursing his leg as it fails to assist him and his size as it fails to bring him a full visual of the surroundings. Annoyance rolling off of him in waves, he angrily tugs at the frayed and stained tablecloth hanging off the edge of the table, looking for clues, but it only serves to pelt him hard with the several items that were left.

While the extinguished candle stub and the assorted papers do nothing to his physicality, the loud crash of a bottle upon the wooden floor shattering and a heavy book thunking him directly across the left shoulder certainly caused damage. The smell of alcohol is almost too much, injury leading to pain, pain leading to anguish, and he finds himself lapping at what’s left of the dark fluid without much thought at all before he finally snaps back into awareness, only once his brain buzzes pleasantly with grain sugar and numbness. Curse his clurichaun heritage for all its worth any other time, its blasé and baser instincts often leave him a touch slighted from his typical genius, but for now it kept the pain just barely tolerable as he straightened himself, brushing errant liquid from his coat and a-righting his bowler hat.

Only then does he realize he’s not alone.

There’s a small, almost twiglike being sitting in the open book, pouring over the words of it with little attention paid to his most charming self. It appears to be all one color, a sort of sandy brownish tan, hair wild and long, all gaunt and edges and almost sallow cheeks. Its eyes are so small and beady that he’s amazed it can even see. His gaze is flat, almost judgemental as he sizes up the small creature in front of him, drinking in every detail with the intent of absorbing information and churning things to his favor. It appears to be nothing more than a lowly sprite, perhaps a brownie. Certainly nothing of interest to a leprechaun-turned-far darrig like himself. And yet, the gears turn in his head as always.

Food was food, contracts were contracts, tricks were tricks. Why only settle for humans, he always says, when others like himself, yet always lesser, were such easy prey?

“Well, welly well well, what do we have, how do ye do, where do you come from, hmm?” He puts on his usual airs, brushing fingers down the front of his coat almost disapprovingly, smile contrarily bright and cheerful.

The thing damn near ignores him. He’s outraged. Stifling a scream, he approaches, tapping a foot insistently and clearing his throat at the thing.

“…hrorhiaa.”

“…Excuse me?”

They look at his shoes, oddly, beady eyes having an uneven sort of gaze to them, hair dripping over their face. “…from hroorhyiaa.”

“…Oh, and pray tell, where is this mystical land of ‘hroo hraa’, my friend?”

It examines its nails almost haughtily, pointing at a worn yet glaringly gaudy flag, an x of stars that could only belong to the confederation next to a blue panel with a white seal that reads…

“…State of Georgia.” He glares at the being with fire in his eyes, hissing. “Do you think to make a fool of me, brown man? There’s no one to shame me in front of, o sprite, o twig, o speck of errant dust! Your lashing tongue be for naught!”

The creature doesn’t react, brushing their current page over to the next one with a foot, eyes blinking rapidly, before sitting themself down on the next page. “…not brown man. Not man.”

He grows inpatient, placing a foot over the words the other is trying to read. “…What could possibly be so damn interesting in that book to pique more interest than yours truly?! How dare you ignore my power, my authority!”

“…Alcoholic psychosees are psychosees cohsed by pohsining with alcohol. When a pre-hezisting pshychotic, psychohyeurotic or other disorder is aakhrivated by modest alcohol intake, the underlying condition, not the alcoholic psychosis, is diakhnaosed.”

“…HOW DARE YOU!” He screams before he manages to think of how it must sound. The creature doesnt even react to the outburst, only pats the page. Surely enough, they’re simply reading what’s on the page, not making a comment on his heritage.

“…Simple drunkenness, when not specified as psychotic, is clahiffied under-”

“…I CAN READ, YOU- YOU FUCK!” He spits, before straightening his hat for what must be the fourth time, then placing his hands upon his hips to shout more abuse. “No, no, I take that back. A FUCK is actually entertaining, but you, you are infuriatingly dull and grating, and I refuse to stay in your company a moment longer!”

“…fhuk.” It repeats, looking down at the book contemplatively, then back at his shoes. He instinctively takes a step back, crossing his arms in what he hopes looks authoritatively and not defensively.

“…Hyou miyht be helpful. Ih need to find the rest…”

“The rest of what, pray tell?” He inquires, head tilting curiously, eyes brightening and false grin returning. This might prove promising after all, he thinks, if he plays his cards right.

“…The batch.” They grasp gently at what’s rest of the alcohol bottle, holding up the mouth of the bottle and its proud wax seal. Their tone is flat as always, everything presented matter of factly and without intonation, as if it has no concept of how to use tone to convey the meaning of its words.

“…If you give me your name, I’ll help you.”

The creature blinks and shrugs.

“T’won’t be too bad! You’ll simply be in my debt! A single boon I might ask of you at any time. ‘Course, you’ll have te stay by my side ’til I need thae boon, but tisk for tat! Might be fun, might you say?”

Another shrug. “…Hyahn.”

“…What?”

“Mnames hyohn. hyonithin.”

“…OH! Eoin! A’course!”

“No. HYAHn. Nhot AOWan”

“…John. Sean. Jon. Jhon. Yohan. Yawn.”

“Third. Maybe h’bit more like sekinnd hwun.”

Blinking again, he sighs. “…Jon.” This time he pronounces it more breathily, still a J but pressing the J out more with his lungs as if it’s an s. As if he’s sighing the name. It feels concerningly intimate, especially when the ownership settles on his shoulders neatly, like a second skin.

“Yes. You?”

“…Ye may call me Éadbhárd. T’is my earthly name, not me birthly name. Tha’s a contract ye wont get from me so easy, mind ye. Now, you’re quite indebted to me, so let’s get going.”

“Ed.”

“Éadbhárd.”

“Eddyboy.”

“Éadbhárd!”

“Eddie.”

“Ugh, fine.” Éad grimaces at the pronunciation, but shrugs it off. As long as Jon has no control over him and he’s gained a new face that he never intends on releasing, it’s fine. He’s fine.

He has an entire being ensnared in a contract. While it’s not much, he feels more powerful than he did.

#scriddler

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careerwomenwithadhd · 5 years

Text

The Toughest Post I’ve Ever Written

I had not been sleeping well for several months. My stress levels were through the roof. I was operating on automatic, on survival mode. I was so sensitive and crying about everything and anything. My world was crumbling.

It was my last semester of graphic design school, spring 2010, and I have tried and stopped all sorts of ADHD meds that were, at the time, available (Straterra, Adderall, Ritalin, Vyvanse). I couldn't cope with insomnia or day time drowsiness or other side effects. I would get migraines or felt like a complete zombie, merely existing and going through the motions. Other meds were used instead that left me lethargic and out of sorts. It was incredibly disappointing. Other people talked about experiencing clarity and calmness for the first time. They were having their eureka moment. Why couldn't I have mine?!

Was this how it was going to be the rest of my life? Was I going to constantly disappoint everyone around me and not being able to live up to a standard that everyone else so easily reached? Was I always going to be late, forgetful, hot-tempered? Was I going to always have 20 tabs open simultaneously in my head?

How would I reconcile a carefully constructed image I had so meticulously put together to outwardly project control, confidence, organization, put-togetherness when I was a mess inside?

What if I couldn't meet the demands of the working and adult life of today's world? I could barely cope with school!

I would frequently find myself crying in my car before school, on my way to school, after school, in the bathroom at school, in the shower, or before I went to bed. What had happened to me?

In my previous post, I talked about the issues I was having with my then fiancé. His gaslighting and alcoholism were taking a toll on me. Even more, he could hide his flaws behind a façade of cool, calm, organization, extreme attention to detail. Essentially, everything I was striving to be.

I thought I knew this person. This person symbolized safety and security for so long, and now I didn't know what to expect. Was he always this person or did he change? Where did we go wrong? I was young, and I thought it was on me to help him and 'fix' him, fix us. It was slowly tearing my heart apart. I felt I couldn't breathe. How could he do this to me?

When someone takes her life, people wonder 'What triggered it?' What was the one event that tipped the scale and made her throw in the towel? What many people don't realize is that for most who take their lives, depression has been an unwanted companion for a long, long time. In my case, I had been diagnosed with depression in my early teen years, so it had been my very unwanted companion for quite a while.

That's how it is in most cases.

It's there so long that it has made itself comfortable there in you, so you don't even notice it. In fact, you're more likely to notice when it's not there.

It notices you, though. Especially when you're vulnerable and alone, and in pain, so much pain that you've been carrying around for too damn long.

It's like a cup that has been filling up slowly for so long that you don't notice when it starts spilling over. Suddenly, the water has not only spilled over, but it has also flooded every part of your life, and you're in a bottomless pool. You're drowning. It's so dark, cold, lonely, and quiet, and you're so far gone. The overwhelming, gut-wrenching despair and loss of hope leaves you hallow.

It is SO beyond painful. There's no light. There's no hope. There's no way out. You de-attach and forget your most primal instinct. Your instinct becomes to let go….

I ended up in the hospital and, no, I will not go into the details of how/where/why this….It's irrelevant at this point, it's done, and it has taken me almost 10 years to get the courage to write this.

The journey back has not been easy. It has tested my resilience, relationships, mental health, and confidence in more ways than I could ever imagine. There is a reason why they say there is no greater journey than the journey within. No one can see it, but it is most certainly there. The world can be a shallow and ignorant place. In my journey, however, I have met life-long friends and some of the kindest most authentic individuals that I could ever have imagined meeting.

One loving constant throughout my life whom I will love forever and always get emotional about is my family. My parents and brother have shown me unconditional love and support. I would not be who I am or where I am without their love.

Back to my 'moment,…' I had to go through a pretty tough partial inpatient program for people in crisis which, at the time, was grueling, but was probably one of the best things I've ever done. I had to look in the mirror and be accountable for everything that was going wrong in my life. No excuses allowed. It was here where terms, such as 'co-dependency,' and 'unhealthy' relationship started being attributed to my relationship.

My fiancé at the time was.…less than supportive. He seemed unaffected and had the gumption to insinuate that I had tried to take my life only for attention. I called BS. He had no clue what I had gone through and what I was going to go through for the rest of my life. If I was going to overcome the biggest hurdle of my life, I was going to do it by myself and not in bad company. I gave him his ring back and made it clear we were done.

I was going to start from scratch, on my own terms, at an extremely vulnerable time, but I was sure heck not going to let anyone treat me like a burden or an annoyance ever again.

As I said, it has not been a walk in the park. I could not feel my emotions for about 3 months. I was terrified of leaving my house for about a year due to extreme social anxiety. I had to develop new friendships (my relationship had isolated me so much). My migraine headaches became chronic daily migraine headaches and where horrible. My life was only about survival for about the next five years after that.

I'm glad to say that today, I'm 98% migraine free, my career has blossomed (although I'm taking a detour now), I have amazing friends, and I feel incredibly blessed. I have dated a lot since then. I've even been in another serious relationship that didn't work out (fortunately….).

There are good days and there are bad days. I have become much more compassionate, open, and accepting of people. I take extreme self-care and respect the self-care of others.

I have not tried taking my life again. I feel whole, confident, and secure at my core. I'm not saying things are perfect, but I know I have what it takes to find my way around life's challenges. I have too much to live for and someone to live for: my brother. He was born with Down Syndrome, and I will be his primary caretaker one day. I could not imagine anyone else taking care of him.

Here's what I've learned: You teach people how to treat you by,

1) accepting their behavior and encouraging it;

2) stopping it and not tolerating it

Don't be afraid to ask for help. I still have trouble with this, but I remind myself of the consequences of not asking for help.

Either you win or you learn

Change how you perceive things if you're not happy

If you didn't get that job, maybe there's an even better one out there for you

If you're overweight, maybe it's an opportunity to join the gym and meet new people

If your car dies down….well this one is hard. At least don't panic and don't jump to conclusions.

Mental health affects EVERYONE. It does not discriminate just like diabetes or epilepsy does not discriminate.

If someone in your personal life is having a toxic effect in your well being, cut him/her out to the best of your ability. It's not selfish or rude. It's part of self-care.

#suicideprevention ADHD selfcare mentalhealth

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a-woman-apart · 5 years

Text

Advocating for Myself as a Patient

A/N: This post will contain statements about medication and dosages as well as diagnoses and diagnostic criteria. This post is not meant to serve as medical advice. If you are having any issues with your medication, it is important to consult your medical professionals for advice. If you are experiencing an emergency, scroll to the bottom for emergency information.

Okay, it’s story time.

For a little background, I will mention the different tools I use for tracking my symptoms. The most recent tool I picked up was recording voice diaries on my phone; I record these and listen to them back, and it gives me a sense of how my mood changes through the day. Another tool I utilize is journaling in a private written journal, and to a lesser extent writing these Tumblr posts. I also record cravings, mood shifts, and physical symptoms in my Clue App, which is a free app I use for tracking my menstrual cycle.

My diagnosis is schizoaffective disorder bipolar type, but my original diagnosis was bipolar I with psychotic features. There is a lot of overlap between the disorders, but I feel like the schizoaffective diagnosis encourages a more liberal and centralized use of antipsychotics as a part of the treatment plan. I am willing to accept, though, that I may not be fully correct on this, because antipsychotics/neuroleptics may be utilized in bipolar I with psychotic features as well (this was confirmed by my psychiatrist). Here is a list of all the antipsychotics that I’ve been prescribed—that I can remember.

Seroquel

Risperidone

Invega

Abilify

Seroquel and risperidone both caused appetite changes, fine tremors, and extreme lethargy. When I expressed a desire to be removed from them, I was placed on the Invega injection. Invega was quite effective—for years actually— but it had the unfortunate side effect of causing an irregular menstrual cycle. This is because most antipsychotic medications simulate a hormone known as prolactin, and this is a hormone involved with pregnancy in women (and can cause breast development in men). Over time, my prolactin levels became elevated and it all came to a head when I bled for 40/50 days during a 2-month period. This was the opposite of the usual period scarcity that occurred with it before. I was removed from the Invega. I went to my PCP (Primary Care Physician) and was placed on birth control to re-regulate my cycle.

To replace the Invega, I was placed on an atypical antipsychotic known as Abilify. Abilify is associated with less severe elevation of prolactin levels. I was placed on an extremely small dose of 2mg, to be taken at night. I noticed favorable results for a few weeks, with my sleep cycle regulating. I would wake up early and feel rested.

However, this underlying anxiety started to creep in. I felt ill at ease at even familiar situations, such as at work and with regards to school. Even though I can no longer remember—and don’t have exact records of how much this coincided with the discontinuation of Invega and the introduction of Abilify—my Clue app says that I marked “stressed” for my mood every day except once since May 13th, 2019. I am incredibly grateful to have that evidence. This tells me that my symptoms began to be bad about a month ago.

It is important to note that during this time, I was also on two other medications: 900mg of lithium each night for mood-stablization and 37.5mg of Effexor (Venlafaxine) every afternoon for depression relief. I had been using the Effexor to improve my depression symptoms, and while I had noticed a slight uptake in anxiety around when I started it, it leveled off (or so I thought) as the time went on. This will be important later.

My anxiety first started as a kind of discomfort and general irritability and impatient feeling. I was seeing my main psychiatrist regularly, but I ended up seeing a different one when I went for a follow up. The new psychiatrist was pretty understanding, and she also warned me that if I started to experience anger or anything out of character that I should come back in and increase the Abilify. What psychiatrist B told me was in line with what psychiatrist A had said before, and I was skeptical, but I agreed to follow her instructions.

The reason I was skeptical was because even though the Abilify was helping me with sleep, I did feel more on edge since taking it. I agreed, though, because I was not sure if it was the addition of Abilify or just the withdrawal from Invega that was causing my symptoms. Having been on birth control for a month at that point and knowing that that could also affect mood, I was open to just trying what the doctors recommended.

I tried to be patient, but I noticed myself getting a lot worse, starting about 2-3 weeks ago. I felt more emotional and less stable. I began to feel like crawling out of my skin. I would have to consciously control my breathing. Looking back, I can see that I was beginning to have anxiety attacks, but I did not understand what they were.

I tried everything within my power to control my symptoms. I had previously starting exercising regularly, being more conscious about my diet, and getting more sunlight and fresh air. I walked literally miles every week, and sometimes I would walk just to try to control the anxiety. I went back to doctor A and he increased my Abilify. Now in addition to the 2mg I took at night, I was to take 2mg in the morning.

The first day(s) after the medicine was increased, I had horrendous migraines/tension headaches. I could feel literal knots in my neck, and I remember having to massage them out when I came home from work that day. I believe that it was around that time that I also began to have some gastrointestinal symptoms that would only continue to worsen as time went on. Some mornings I would wake up feeling like a gremlin was trying to knife its way out of my abdomen and I would have to rush to the bathroom. I felt nauseous all the time, and sometimes I could only have toast and tea in the morning or a smoothie because I couldn’t stomach anything else.

Meanwhile, the mood lability worsened. I literally went from laughing to crying within the space of thirty minutes. I would have mood diaries where I was rambling at top speed, and then others—within the same day— where I spoke painfully slow. I felt anxious, energetic, and optimistic all at once, while at the same time feeling tired, irritated, despondent, and feeling as though I wanted to jump out of my skin. I had racing thoughts and flight of ideas. I felt like I wanted to escape myself, while at the same time feeling derealized and outside my body. It was the most uncomfortable, disconcerting, and dysphoric sensation I had felt in a long time—if ever.

While this was happening, I knew something was very, very wrong. I kept telling my boyfriend that I didn’t feel right. I kept trying to explain that I was having intrusive suicidal thoughts, while at the same time wanting more desperately than anything to live. I told him that I wanted to go to inpatient because I felt like I wasn’t safe with myself. He was able to calm me down enough to stop me from checking myself into the hospital. He was convincing, alright, but a big part of why I didn’t go was because my clothes weren’t clean, and it was almost too late to go to the laundry mat. I was planning to pack a bag so that I could wear what I wanted at inpatient.

Before you criticize his decision to stop me, please note two things;

A) The hospitals in my area are all trash

B) Even if I went as a voluntary patient, if they decided I was a danger to myself, they could keep me indefinitely, and that might’ve caused me to lose my job

I think my boyfriend had assessed the situation—including realizing that it was Sunday and I could go to my clinic as a walk-in on Monday— and just had more faith in me that I had in myself. I felt like I was completely losing control of my faculties, and he saw that I was speaking coherently. Let me tell you, it is an awful feeling to feel like you’re going crazy and everyone is just like, “You’re fine.”, because even if you know they are right, you still have this pervasive feeling that you cannot be trusted. Even though my health and safety are much more important than any job or anything, I think my boyfriend knew I was having an anxiety attack and didn’t want me to behave rashly.

We will call what happened the next day, “visit one”. At this point, I am sleeping less and less, which is the #1 indicator that I am going to have a manic episode. I am now starting to panic even more because I know that once I’m fully manic, I’ll be totally delusional, and it will be too late to dial it back. I am at the clinic within minutes of it opening, so I can speak to psychiatrist #3 quickly, even though I am coming in as a walk-in. She is warm and welcoming, and I liked her instantly. I am talking to her as fast as I can, trying to explain my symptoms—especially the anxiety—she is furiously taking notes and nodding, and she goes, “Don’t worry, I’m going to prescribe you something.”

She ended up prescribing me Hydroxyzine, which is an antihistamine (think Benadryl) at 10mg to be taken up 3 times daily. I took the medicine once I got home, and then I called in to work because I still felt incredibly sick to my stomach, and I wanted to be sure this medicine wouldn’t make me too drowsy to function (it pretty much did).

I continued taking the medicine for a few days. It did not fully help with the anxiety and mood instability; it just made me too sleepy to fully respond to them. The “edge” was still there. The sleeplessness was getting worse. The nausea was getting worse, despite psychiatrist #3 saying that the Hydroxyzine would help with that.

At this point, I was so desperate, I felt justified in going to my PCP on Thursday. This was “visit two.” I wanted to see if the birth control could have been causing some of my symptoms, and I felt like if I got more information, I could have something more concrete to give to my psychiatrist.

It is important to note that I now always take detailed notes to all my doctor appointments. I detail my symptoms and the questions I need to ask. Doctors do have a tendency to interrupt and not fully hear what I am saying, but the notes at least help us to stay on track and provide some foundation to the visit. It is much more helpful to be able to proactively tell them exactly what is going on, than it is to just wait for them to ask from a generic list of questions that may not cover everything I am experiencing. So yes, I am “that patient”, but my health anxiety is so intense that I want to cover not just what is wrong but also phantom other things that could even possibly be wrong just so that I get everything I can from the visit. I do not want to go away saying “I wish I had asked about X.” I would rather ask too many questions than not enough.

My doctor—who is awesome, by the way— consulted with her superior and then told me that they did not believe that it was the birth control. It was then that I remembered that I had already been on the birth control for over a month before these symptoms started, and symptoms would not approach out of nowhere. The birth control was doing its job of regulating my periods, and it was even possible that the hormones were helping—rather than hurting— my mood. My doctor then recommended a probiotic to deal with my gastrointestinal issues and told me to talk to my psychiatrist about the Abilify.

Fast forward today—Friday— and I am back at my psych clinic before it even opens. I have already decided that I want to see either psychiatrist #1, #2, or #3 and I do not want to see anybody new. Psychiatrist #2, who usually does Friday walk-ins is out on vacation and my heart sinks a little. So, I ask if, even if I have to wait longer, can I please see #1 or #3 and the front desk girl tells me that she will try her best, even though it isn’t their policy.

I once again only wait a few minutes before being called back, and who Is it but #3! She was like, “You’re back!” but she seems genuinely excited to see me. I update her on how the Hydroxyzine has been working and tell her that I’m still anxious. I explain the mood lability and wanting to jump out of my skin. I told her that my sleep patterns were worsening. She tells me that Abilify is a good drug and it is a small dose, but it isn’t for everyone. She had begun to recommend an anti-anxiety medication but hesitated.

Then my dramatic ass decides to read the “statement” I had prepared for her (or whoever would’ve seen me that day).

Here is that statement:

“Please help me. I know I come to you seeming very together, but my symptoms are overwhelming, and I need help. I plan to start attending groups here at ___________. I am doing everything I can. I do not want to take another antipsychotic. I believe I have been misdiagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, because my psychotic symptoms have always been accompanied by mood disturbances. I believe my previous diagnosis of bipolar I with psychotic features is the correct diagnosis. I also believe I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder.”

That was when she went on to tell me that they still used antipsychotics for bipolar I with psychotic features, but that we could reduce the Abilify back to just 2mg nightly if that would make me feel better. She inquired a little about how I came to be diagnosed schizoaffective, but she did not address the possible GAD yet (I will definitely bring it up again if anxiety persists). Then she said she would discontinue the Effexor, because she made the connection between how antidepressants could cause mania. She said, “You’ll feel much better- trust me.”

As I had said, the Effexor would be important later. In all my calculations, I had never made that connection. I said, “Even though I was taking it all this time?” and she said, “Yes.” She also told me that I could discontinue it without tapering off because I was still at such a small dosage. She did not use the term “mixed mania” but when I mentioned the sleep disturbances was when she finally determined, “this is mania.”

Finally—and this is the climax— she increased my lithium from 900mg to 1200mg. I would take one 600mg pill capsule in the morning and one at night (rather than taking both at night). It was still morning, so she told me I could begin taking the drug immediately.

Y’all, let me tell you, I feel a little drowsy/out of it, but just from that one pill I feel so much better. Yet it took literally 2 weeks of advocating for myself and 4 doctor visits to get to right now. I made it. I have always said that lithium is the only medication that I feel really works for me, and it also has the lowest side effects for me. The only thing that I can point to is excessive thirst, and that just means I carry water with me everywhere daily. That is a small price to pay for mental health.

I did end up calling in to work today—because of my stomach, but also because of being exhausted and trying to adjust to the lithium— and I’m just trying to take it easy. Honestly my stomach feels much better now that I am not a living ball of anxiety. It can be extremely frustrating to lose so much time and to jump through so many hoops, but I am fighting for my life here. My job might really need me today, but ultimately if I am hospitalized, they will find someone else for the position. I must learn to value myself, because to everyone else, I’m replaceable.

Here is the tl;dr:

· Always advocate for yourself

If you don’t like what a doctor has to say to you, then find another one. Keep looking until you find the one that listens to you/hears what you are trying to say.

· Trust your body

If you don’t feel right, trust that shit. Only you know you. I know some of us have hypochondria/health anxiety, but if you feel that something is wrong you should seek out an answer that will give you piece of mind.

· Keep a list of questions to ask your doctor

It is so incredibly easy to get off track once you get to your doctor appointment or to allow them to dominate the conversation. Listen to their answers, but get a second opinion if it doesn’t feel right.

· If you are in crisis, call emergency services

I really don’t recommend doing what I did and trying to just white knuckle it until the next morning. It worked for me because I’ve been managing my symptoms for years. That, or I just got lucky. Either way, if you have a desperate urge to harm yourself/someone else, or if your symptoms are otherwise overwhelming you should definitely either check yourself into treatment or call emergency services. Your clinic usually also has a support hotline you can call.

Suicide prevention hotline:

1-800-273-8255

Suicide Prevention Hotline Chat

Crisis Text Line

#schizoaffective bipolar type #mixed mania #anxiety #medical emergency #mental health emergency #suicide prevention #suicidal ideation #stress #hypervigilance #talking to your doctor #how to talk to your doctor #mental health #mental illness #mental health treatments #advocating for youurself #storytime #getting a second opinion

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