I identify with humanity in like a job way. Like you're only a worker when you're at work. I am only a human when I am with humans y'know? Like my humanity is not completely gone, but it's normally an inconvenience and a necessary evil.

Very brave of me to take half a meth med when my tummy has been wrecked for 2 months (i need to do work)

I was thinking about my body and why it’s going thru it internally more than usual and

January: STI checks and course of PEP from being raped in December; mental health fucking dive - general shame, self-blame, isolation

Feb: managed to come out of the haze a little to have my CSA trauma flare the fuck up alongside OCD meaning hypersexuality begins in an incredibly overwhelming confusing way; return to place of SA for large blackwork tattoo (with incredibly sensitive skin)

March: started T on the 1st; more sexual health blood tests (syphilis + HIV checks); flying to Spain to take care of a dear friend, then launched into the worst 2 month acting job I’ve had

April: emergency dentist bc jaw n tooth pain meant I couldn’t eat or breathe and no pain meds + wine combo were touching it, I was almost on the edge of passing out n had to take a week out to have the rest days I was told I could have but was never given; food issues flared up; started vaping also which hurts my tummy; second inter-muscular dose of T administered by a friend after googling; ADHD psychosocial needs assessment; break up with post-assault counsellor bc she makes me feel awful and doesn’t understand dissociation is also an emotional reaction.

May: push to finish this job after unionising with the cast and crew - can barely take care of myself and therapist breaks usual neutrality to tell me they’re really concerned that this job is traumatising me in a way reminiscent of being stuck in domestic abuse childhood situations (it was and the mantra was “the only way out is through” lol); lost about £800 to ongoing dental needs to be decided it was grinding and I needed a specialist splint 👌🏽; finally finish the worst job of my life to immediately get sick for a week

June: finish off first root canal (still hurts to use left side of mouth); can’t eat and experience IBS-like symptoms and bloating in a big way for the first time; start round of antibiotics; mental health in York nosedives and I start feeling trapped and panicked; find and sign for new Manchester flat despite being over budget; more blood tests; podiatry appointment; generally quite ill and having to miss birthdays and events

July: MOVE TO MANCHESTER 🥳; start second root canal with round of stronger antibiotics that fuuuck up my mouth bc turns out I have an infection in the bone; third T injection; domestic violence support worker meeting (Chloe IDAS); second root canal; doctors about IBS = turns out to be extremely swollen stomach lining, possibly bc of ibuprofen use

Now here we are in

August: tummy getting better; mouth less fucked; need to stop vaping; felt like i dislocated my shoulder but after 3 very high pain days the hot osteopath helped ease it; need to call drs + find out where the blood test is + do the anonymous intelligence against the guy (NHS dr) who raped me

So that’s. Health stuff, mostly. Writing it out helped me see that I’m not actually just fucken,, wasting my time constantly. I can take more time for rest and recovery even. Jfc

My ex has been harassing me for years. POV: She is a Nazi and psychopath. She had been psychotically manipulating me when we were together, I was 13 and all I had access to was school and home and her, and I wasn't doing very well at school or home so I pinned all my feelings on her and that's why I was so hurt.

It was normal at the beginning except she dumped her current girlfriend to pursue me. Then as I loved her deeper, she pretended to have Dissociation Identity Disorder to deceive me, suddenly pretending to switch to other personalities when we were talking and seriously asking me if I could accept being with such a sick person because she had several people living in her head. My answer of course was yes, although I was also doubting the truth of what she was saying, but she kept controlling me with threats of suicide and all I could do was to play the role of supporter as much as possible. I was just 13 and I have to deal with her shit. I was extremely worried about her, not because I really believed the disorder she said she had, but also because she acted weirdly on purpose. She would also switch accounts pretending to be a complete stranger or her other personality to get to me, even though I saw through her clumsy act I still didn't poke her. I tried to help her although my life is a mess too. Then one time because she caught me staying up late she told me I was going to lose her because of my disobedience and then she was out of touch for a whole day. I tried to contact her and got no response, I really thought she had gone and killed herself, I was devastated and in pain about it, I thought I had caused her death I was such a sinner so I tried to kill myself too, so painful it still hurt when I recall the memory. Finally she called me when I was already standing on the rooftop, it turned out she hadn't killed herself she didn't even try and was just minding her own business, and she enjoyed seeing me suffer, she kept watching me, she punished me in this way when she knew I was mentally ill and seriously suicidal. This sobered me up to the fact that being with her was only a drain on my mind, so I broke up. It was a very painful decision for me because I still liked her, but what she did was simply hastening my demise. I found out later that she was out there telling people that I went to someone else during our relationship, er...

We haven't completely cut off contact after the breakup, I deleted all her contact information after an argument. That was after my other relationship ended(he lied about his sexuality, he was gay and he just played around with me but I treat our relationship sincerely, then he dumped me because he needed to come out of the closet. jerk.) and she somehow came over to me and told me I was too weak and that I could have done more with what I had if only I wasn't so emotional. I felt she was insulting me for the years of violence and trauma and neglect that had made me so "emotional and weak", so I snapped back and blacklisted her.

Later, after I had entered a stable and healthy relationship, she friended me again and by this time I was not so angry, so I agreed. She then sent me some "you've always been my moon" craps from time to time, guess she just came to me with some sudden inflated need of self-esteem... forgive me for being subjective. Anyway, I was uncomfortable with all this and my girlfriend at the time accused my ex on her own account of harassing an ex who was no longer in a relationship with, and she said stupid things in the comments section like how attacks on exes are a sign of insecurity, that she just misses being with me and won't steal me away, that she knows she's attractive and charming and fun and that disturbs my girlfriend, and that the kind of arrogant pseudo-Freudian psychoanalysis that makes me sick. Then she went on a rant about how I was already on a lower plane of thought than her and how she couldn't understand why she had to be a simp for someone like that (a simp huh, a simp that kept sending texts message of unrequited love). Actually she didn't use the term simp, the word in our language is舔狗. It can be described as someone who is loving another person and offering financial and emotional help though they never get response. She gave me nothing but harassment, how could she consider herself as one? We both thought she was out of her mind, but thankfully she didn't bother me again after that.

Then just now, she deliberately visited my personal social media account and liked something completely unrelated with her or her hobby. This account is private and although the content is open to the public, I've always used it as a little sanctuary. I think it was meant to disgust me, this act evoked all my trauma and anger, the time I spent with her was so mentally damaging that I can't get out of the haze until now, but she still has to come to my place to show off the hurt she once caused me and I find it very disgusting. And a month ago she sent my girlfriend anonymous threatened email, almost caused her panicked. We are all just small person with severe mental illness and every time we recovered a little she just came to destroy our peaceful life. I hate her, I hope she die soon.

I’m a bit nervous about posting this, because it’s a big nerdy splurge about Doctor Who, and why it is so very important to me, and there is quite personal stuff in it that I have never posted publicly, but. It’s a little over a day out from the finale, and I can’t not talk about something that totally consumed me for seven years.

When I say personal stuff, I mean stuff like suicidal ideation and mental illness, so there’s a content warning.

I wish Steven Moffat, and everyone else who has poured their lovely hearts into making this show, could know what it has done for me.

I've found it somewhat difficult to pinpoint what my favourite episode of Moffat era Who should be. It puzzled me for quite a while. Not because there are no tremendously stellar episodes that stand above all the rest -- there are quite a few of those to pick over. In terms of actual writing skill, narrative cohesion, magnificent direction and all that pretentious stuff, it would have to be Heaven Sent. I could watch that episode over and over again until the heat death of the Universe. 

But I think my actual favourite episode, the one nearest and dearest to my little anarchist care bear heart, has to be The Beast Below. The one with the whale that was technically more up in space than it was below. I realize fandom consensus does not consider it the pinnacle of Moffat’s storytelling, but I don’t care. The ideas in that episode, and it is so full of lovely ideas, are what made me sit up and start paying attention to the potential this show had. 

Specifically, what got me was what it said about child abuse and neglect as an essential cog in the machine of fascism, or something. Which I had never, in my whole entire life, seen so earnestly articulated on TV before-- in a children’s television show-- with a goddamn whale. I can pinpoint that as the exact moment this show snatched me and hurled me, screaming, into fandom.

[Later, A Christmas Carol would draw big red underlines and exclamation points all around these ideas... that's my other favourite episode. But The Beast Below did it first and hooked me.] 

There’s more to it besides that, though. This is the deeply personal emotional context stuff.

So, here is something you may or may not know about the nerd creature that is me. I was quite homeless at the time The Beast Below aired. And I had nothing -- literally nothing, you see. I was in a totally unfamiliar city in a fairly unfamiliar country, post-psychotic break, post-marriage-engagement breakdown, and I was more alone than I'd ever been -- and I'd been your standard lonely friendless geek my whole life, being Autistic, and what have you. I had just escaped an incredibly abusive, toxic group of people upon realization they were not so much a group of friends, but a cult. Yes, an actual cult! I was in one of those. I was also very, very ill with an immune disorder. And the only member of my family who ever accepted me, the only one actually still talking to me after I gave my narcissistic rage monster mother the finger, had just died of cancer.  This had all occurred across the space of, oh... one year? Almost entirely within 2009, leading into 2010. I was a wreck. And if you piled all this nonsense on a fictional character all at once, I'd probably say you were being gratuitous and change the channel. I was too miserable to even know how miserable I was-- just sort of wandering around in a dissociated haze, surviving entirely by the instincts of my autonomic nervous system. A good friend of mine described it to me later as ''you were sort of frozen'', and she was right. So. I downloaded the space whale episode over a wi-fi connection, illegally, on an ancient computer, in a library [haha how appropriate is that?] because I quite liked all the other Doctor Whos I had seen before, and this new writer fella had done Press Gang, a fond highlight of my otherwise wretched childhood. 

I watched Amy Pond and the Doctor cavorting around dystopian space Britain, having casual conversations about the nature of fascism, in a show marketed to 10 year olds. My sad little eyes pressed right up to the computer screen, irradiating my retinas, and I whispered: ''I've waited 20 years for My Show, and someone finally wrote it. It even has a mad ginger immigrant in it, and she's me. The Universe made this just for me.''

It also had a whale, and the whale was in space. 

And that is how I was propelled into my seven year character arc, my precious nerds. Because this show, from series 5 onwards, has done more for me than anything else on the planet. And I don't care how ridiculous it sounds to attribute my self-actualization to a goofy TV show about loveable alien miscreants saving space whales, because it's true. It took a while, but I learned what I actually value and what actually properly matters to me through this show. Or rather, I re-learned it, because I'd become so lost chasing approval and moulding myself to other people's perceptions to withstand their abuse, I didn't know what I was anymore. 

This show, and this goddamn fandom, helped me pull all the chopped up little bits of me back together more than any therapy or self-help nonsense I had tried. I went back to university and got serious about doing actual work, in part, because ''we're all just stories in the end... make it a good one.'' kept looping in my brain. It made me determined that my life could never be summed up with a single sentence like: ''He was sad and boring, and he wasted away in his apartment -- achieving nothing, leaving no trace''. 

[I still don’t get out much, to be honest. But I’m trying. At the very least, my epic marathon through 500 wildly divergent university degrees says something, yes? Maybe I can set the official record for ‘’the world’s most reluctant to graduate student’’.] 

Anyway. This show, this fandom... gave me so much. It gave me my voice as a creator of things, as a writer, and an analyzer, and it gave me people like me, real and fictional, people I didn’t even know existed anywhere. 

And you know…. this is heavy stuff again-- but it honestly gave me the motivation to get through to another weekend sometimes, when I was apathetic enough and in enough physical pain to contemplate not doing that. It really did. I didn't want to miss an episode of Doctor bloody Who, arthritis and schizophrenia and poverty be damned, and that kept me here. There were points, where one of the few things that restrained me from taking a decisive dose of Oxycontin, was River Song's storyline. I'm serious. And as shameful as that probably is, it's still better than being dead, and not getting to watch Doctor Who anymore. 

Cuz Doctor Who had a whale in it, right? A great big pink whale filled with benevolent intentions, and it was in space, and everybody hugged at the end, on top of the whale, after overthrowing the government! Moffat Who came out of the gate telling ten year olds ‘’OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT’’! I needed that with all my aching nerd heart. The Universe made it for me.

And then they put queer characters in it, and mentally ill characters, and abuse survivors, like me, and it valued them, and it valued children. And then there was River Song, and hugs, and self acceptance, and found families, and sparkles all around, and Bill Potts. And a big Jungian tapestry of meta and mythology. Just for me. There was nothing else on TV like it.

So now here we are, the eve of the final episode of series 10, which I have slobbered and fawned over almost as much as series 5, the one that grabbed me. And... I’m kind of terrified, to be honest. Because all the connections I made here, are so tied up in this show, and talking about this show, and picking apart this specific era of the show... I’m afraid I won't have anything to talk about anymore? and I'll drift apart from my friends, and…. never have something quite like this lovely little hive of internet debauchery and meta and space whales ever again. 

That actually scares me so much. Some of you have been here nearly a whole seven years, longer than almost anyone else in my life, apart from my husband, and I am grateful the vast and mysterious machinations of the Universe dumped us all together in the seething hell-pit of fandom. Those of you who have not yet run screaming into the night from my 957 daily posts about Doctor Who... you don't know how much you have helped me, and brighten my day, just by existing.

Yes, even Proton, who is old, and frequently incorrect, and a cyborg. And Elisi, who speaks utter nonsense that confuses my head. Really. I know my primary method of interacting with people is emphatically, and tactlessly, listing every single way they are wrong about things, but I do occassionally have actual emotions like ‘’appreciation’’. 

Do not worry, though. This audaciously out-of-character display of sincerity will now be deleted from your memory. 

Gone? Good. 

So it's been seven wonderful transformative years for me, and the Doctor Who they made just for lil gay anarchist crazy pants care-bear me is ending forever soon. I mean... there will always be Doctor Who, and it will always be Doctor Who, of course. It will be there at the heat death of the Universe, while I’m still salivating over the utter perfection of Heaven Sent. And a sentient gas cloud in a jar will be running it, or something-- because the show has gained its own level of quasi-sentience, furiously transcended all sensible laws of television, and refuses to die.

But the Moffat era came into my life right when I needed it, and it changed me, and I can’t imagine any other era can be that personal to me. It won’t be my Doctor Who anymore. 

Steven Moffat doesn’t know I exist, and yet, has tormented my televisual experiences since I could barely even comprehend television. I have him to thank for two glorious book-ends to my childhood and adolescence: Press Gang, and Doctor Who. Thank you so much, Moffat, you scheming Scottish bastard. Thank you for everything. 

I don’t think I would be the sort of person I am now without this damn show, it’s fandom, and its unapologetic, space whale flavoured idealism. I honestly just wouldn’t be.

Would it be realistic for a character who experienced some really nasty abuse as a kid to have days when he just can't function at all, and would have to call in to work on short notice? If so, how often might that happen? Would his niece coming to live with him make it worse? (he already lives with someone he's not related to because of how housing works, but if it's realistic I might decide that person is an aide.) What would he be able to do on those days? Could he eat, talk, write, nothing?

CW: child abuse is discussed, but no details of abuse.

Snail

Would it be realistic? Yes. 

How often might that happen? It would likely go through periods of it happening more often and less often. The upper limit will be dictated by his job - if you want him to keep his job, that is going to limit how often he cancels work at late notice. There is no lower limit either - clearly, some people experience abuse but don’t have any days that they need cancel work for. 

Would his niece coming to live with him make it worse? Completely depends. Could do. If it does, here are some thoughts/worries that he might have: 

That’s what a six year old is like. How could anyone have done that to me when I was so small?

What if I am just like Them (the ones who hurt him), what if I hurt her? 

His niece could act as a trigger, reminding him of being a child, leading to flashbacks and the impeded functioning that follows.

Charlie 

A few things about the niece: are they close? Does he feel safe with her? Do they have conflicting personalities? All of these things will contribute to how he feels and how it impacts him. If the niece is someone he doesn’t know particularly well, he’s likely to feel unsafe, and that’ll make things worse.

The niece may behave in ways that he finds unpredictable and scary, and that could make him worse.Or even just the sudden change of a person moving in suddenly may trigger something. 

Otherwise, it’s totally realistic for someone to have days like those, but I’d maybe specify if they have a specific mental illness that causes them to be unable to function. Childhood abuse can cause such a huge number of issues; dissociation, PTSD, depression, even somatic symptoms like bodily pain, fatigue, or headaches. The exact abilities of a person on their bad days would depend, and is something you get to choose while writing the character. He may be able to eat and talk, but maybe just going outside and interacting with people is too much. Or he may spend the entire day in his bed, withdrawn and unable to eat. Or be somewhere in between. 

It’s more likely that there would be a combination of different days though - maybe on his worst he can’t leave his bed and hides under the covers all day because anything more is just too much, but he has other days where he’s not up to working, but he can interact with a small group of people that he knows and eat, even if he maybe doesn’t make the “healthiest” food choices. 

How often it happens is also up to you as the writer. Realistically, it won’t follow a “schedule” - something will trigger it. Maybe he’s taken on too much at work and has become overloaded, or maybe he’s suddenly been exposed to something that reminds him of the abuse.

Abuse survivors often need as much control as possible around their environment in order to feel safe. And related to that, safety is the most important thing for someone to heal from any kind of trauma. So when judging a characters response to a situation, I’d pretty much always be asking myself “is this something they would feel safe with?”

Anon 5

Yeah, I’d definitely say it’s possible especially if something big triggered it. Trigger responses (Dissociation, PTSD flashbacks, etc) can last a long time. Sometimes the response can last more than a day. It’s realistic even if there was no huge trigger of abuse. He might just feel depression symptoms, anxiety, etc. All can be extreme and can limit his ability to function. As for what he could do, it really depends on the individual and intensity. Somethings are easier to do for different people. I’d say try to use his character to decide what he might be capable of/if he’s high functioning enough. Stuff like that.

NaamahDarling

Lord, yes, this is realistic.  His level of dysfunction is totally up to you, so you have quite a bit of control.  The addition of a dependent or even just another housemate is likely to be quite stressful and will probably make things worse for a while in that he will have fewer spoons to divert to self-management/self-care if his attention is also being taken up with a new person around.  The addition of a young person is also likely to bring up issues surrounding his past, as Snail pointed out. 

Writing-advice-wise, you have control over his level of functionality.  You can start by mapping out what a good, moderate, and bad day typically look like for him, and save that to refer to.  Map out what it looks like when he’s nonfunctional and then go through and kind of decide in which order those symptoms come into play so you have an idea of what it looks like at any given point on the scale.  I did this for a character of mine and it was actually quite helpful.  I could look at what he was being asked to deal with/do, and look at where he was in terms of being functional that day, and decide which symptoms were most likely to be triggered by that event.

lotevane

Childhood abuse affecting day to day functioning as an adult?  Yes, this is currently my situation.  In my case, I’m lucky that my boss’ attitude about it is “I don’t care what you do as long I get the work I want from you”.  At its worse, I skip a solid ten days of work and not even answer the phone, at my best, I’m at work four days out of five. Usually I’m at work three days a week. For the first few years I almost never got my full salary from all the absent days cuts; lately my boss has been more understanding and working with me, giving me special assignments so I can work from home, things like that.  I’m one of her most productive people even though my coworkers think I’m a slacker just for not physically being there. 

You know who’s brutal though? People you have social obligations towards. Friends and family. They’re merciless and unforgiving, even those who know what’s going on have little sympathy because they end up coming across bad if you don’t show up for social functions. 

Living with someone he’s not related to: that person would either come to understand them or come to despise them. Might be both at the same time.

Niece making it worse: yes, oh yes. Even having responsible adults around is hard, let alone someone you’re responsible for. 

What would he be able to do on those days… it really depends on what you’re trying to do with this character, for example what sort of abuse they had.  On my worst days, I hardly talk, eat maybe once, and spend the day in a zoned out haze.  Usually it’s less severe, usually it’s just the frustration of being noticeably broken in societal terms.

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