#mental health is hard and expecting myself to be Normal has only ever put extra pressure on me that made me worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finsterhund · 2 years

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This planet isn't fucking fair

So after a week where I keep getting my chronic disability ignored and dismissed to my detriment I'm just not doing too good.

I really get the impression that because of the fact that I *can* force myself to do things that it's just expected of me. Like, small example, ideally I shouldn't be the one running back into the house from the car to fetch forgotten things considering my back, and now my ankle, and so on and so forth. My roommate could do it faster, more efficiently, and with less pain, but it's so often up to me.

All my life has been a series of that sort of shit. My mom and her "little Andy will die of pneumonia because of his shit heart and cringefail lungs" but letting a defect in my spine go unnoticed/treated because "if it were really that bad you'd cry more" sorta shit. (Still fucked up my roommate did the exact same thing when I broke my ankle by the way. "You couldn't be standing, you'd be screaming with pain if it was really broken " maybe if I was FUCKING WEAK perhaps)

My advice for this is that if you are disabled, take all the help and support you can get and make a huge fucking fuss about it. Don't let anyone dismiss your feelings and fuck able-bodied people feeling uncomfortable about you just existing as someone with a disability. We're made to want to appear invisible and not burdens all the time so it's hard to do that but it's worth it I promise.

Positives are that I went to the new pharmacy and they gave me all my drugs* and there weren't any weird new fees. There were a few issues but yeah Mr sick boy over here and his cringe health. That's to be expected. It was mostly just paperwork shit. Except they didn't have my night terror meds. But I'm back on my normal pills(yeah I know it's a dated meme chill out) and my hormone imbalance juice™️. Which I should feel better about but there's this phenomenon where certain mental health drugs will not work at first at stabilizing you but will give you more fight and energy (which is why there's that suicide disclaimer/warning thing some antidepressants have because your motivation to do things kicks in sooner than the effect of the drug to make you not want to die) so I've got that going on atm. My antipsychotics actually look different than they did at my old pharmacy. They're visibly different so you can tell the 10mg and the 20mg ones apart which means I can put them in the same container for convenience.

I applied for an overdraft bank thing so they won't charge me 50 dollars every time a payment gets declined. Instead I will have an overdraft I can dip into and if I don't use it I don't have to pay anything and every time I use it it only costs 5 dollars. Ultimately I will be saving money because that generally means each month I'll only ever pay that $5 extra and not the NSF return fee. Surprised I got it considering I'm on disability but relieved.

Not to reveal personal info but I found out one of my best friends now also has a chronic illness and it's just unfair. He of all people didn't deserve this and him potentially having to take some of the exact same drugs Cazza did is traumatizing.

Keep him in your thoughts.

I know "nobody who gets these things deserves them" is like, basic fucking knowledge. But I still reel at the injustice of it all. Maybe it's still that residual after effect of being raised under the instruction that some all powerful dude made the world the way it is and now I have permanent brain worms about fate. That was another thing. The way xtianity tends to talk about disability. Made me hate god and that rage doesn't go away when you stop believing, you know? It has to go somewhere if not therapy.

I got another Cazza collar thanks to my overdraft thing (already abusing the new power I possess. But don't worry I'm only doing it for the Cazza collar) and am planning to mount Cazza's actual collar with tag into like, a frame or something. If you Google dog collar memorial shadow box you'll see what I have in mind.

With my health being more stable with my medicine and the temperature finally becoming livable I'm hoping to try and do things again. In between the moments I think about Cazza. It seems like the universe has just moved on without me and I can't find a place to fit back in.

Scott is acclimatizing well to being home. He continues to slowly grow on me. I was crying today and he gave me kisses almost like Cazza used to do. He's more cuddly than she is but I'm clearly not ready for that yet.

One of these days when I am stronger I want to go back into my closet and rearrange things. I just need to make sure it won't hurt me because so much if Cazza's things I put in there.

I'm at that point where the little details about her are fading so I'm no longer hiding photos of her, even though they hurt me to look at. My roommate said I can use his printer so I am going to use his printer.

If something noteworthy happens I will try to update again.

*edit before posting*

well funny I should mention that my antipsychotics give me a brief period where I have energy and fight but the calming effects don’t kick in yet. Because before I was ready to post this I flew into a violent manic crusade against a shitty online marketplace webside called Mercari because someone was selling the very last cazza collar I needed (the small size) and it turns out there was plentiful listings of the cazza collar on that site.

But Mercari is a really shitty site that tries everything in its power to stop canadians from using it. Being able to ship to my friend’s address in the states means absolutely nothing. They won’t let you make an account, they won’t accept paypal accounts “registered outside of the US” they specifically go out of their way to make it impossible for VPN users to use the site and make it impossible to log in without javascript enabled.

They’re broken, shady, and disgusting of a website. Incompetent in literally every way except of course for keeping Canadians out. I fought and fought and fought tooth and nail. I managed to make an account and log into the account but could not buy the cazza collar because they blocked my paypal for not being made in the US. So stupid. But thanks to some ambiguously legal handiwork involving the android app I managed to sneak on just good enough that I sent a message to the seller including my email address to contact me. Which the site deleted!

But I managed to actually get into contact with the seller so I am really truly hoping this will go through. I think they partially banned me from the site as I am able to contact the seller on the app but cannot change my profile on the app which I can do on google chrome for android. So maybe I’m lucky and the “other person interested in the collar” is actually me and somehow I’ve been split in two.

I am incapable of relaxing tonight because well, I waged a cyber war against this shitty website. In the future I will try to just ask my american friends at a reasonable time to buy things for me. Which sucks because I can’t make my own account or use my own paypal at all or even really do it myself. A friend in america has to do it. There is literally no reason for it to be that way. It is so stupid.

Mercari needs to join Amazon and die in a fire.

If teleportation were possible I would absolutely have achieved it tonight. I am so frazzled and stressed. It distracts me from how much grief I’ve been experiencing though I guess so maybe it’s a small positive.

#text post #negative #long post

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bowsie22 · 3 years

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Pingxie Week 2021 Day 2

Summary: For a city with such a high rate of criminal activity, Wu Xie has always been safe. Now if only he could figure out why? Photography student Wu Xie/Triad leader Xiaoge

It was weird. Despite being open for eight months, Wushanju had never been robbed. The stores around it had all been robbed multiple times in that period. He’d never been attacked on the street, despite multiple robberies happening every day. Pangzi put it down to Wu Xie’s stupid luck, but Wu Xie thought it was weird. Anytime he was cornered, or a Triad member came into the shop for their protection money, there was always a moment. A moment where the men would stare at him like they knew him from somewhere and they’d run. Literally run from him like bats out of hell. It made no sense. And he knew it was a weird thing to be upset by, but he was.

Which led to now. Wu Xie, in a moment of stupidity, decided to go into the city at night to complete one of his final projects for a photography class. Sure, he had his own store/gallery/studio, but that was more due to his uncles making sure he could look after himself. And to a lesser extent, Pangzi. But he still had to finish college, no matter what Sanxing said. And after taking his two-year break, possibly due to an emotional and mental breakdown after the disappearance of the love of his life, Wu Xie was more determined than ever to ace his courses and make his uncles proud. And again, to a lesser extent, Pangzi.

Hence the moment of stupidity. While the city was beautiful at night, it was also dangerous. Especially for someone was still trying to get himself back to full health after the aforementioned disappearance. Not that Wu Xie couldn’t defend himself. He had learned something from Heiye and Pangzi.

So, he wasn’t too nervous about being followed by the two men creeping behind him. Honestly, they weren’t subtle. He wasn’t surprised by the bruising grip on his wrist, as the men pulled him into an alleyway, slamming him against the wall. Wu Xie groaned as his head bounced off the wall, attacker one holding him against the wall, attacker two standing in the mouth of the alleyway, cutting off any escape attempt.

“Ok, suppose my luck had to run out sooner or later.”

Pangzi always said that his sarcasm would hurt him. Never mentioned a mugger slapping him around the face though. Spitting out the blood, Wu Xie realised a second too late that he should have aimed away from the expensive looking shoes.

“You little bitch.”

A punch to the gut had Wu Xie gasping for air, the one to the back of his head had him on the ground and the following kicks to his stomach and chest had him spitting up more blood. Typical. The first time he gets robbed and he’s going to get murdered too. Attacker one grabbed his hair, forcing Wu Xie to his knees. That was a knife against his throat. Oh God, he was really going to die here.

“Whatever you’re doing, make it quick. Traffic is starting to pick up.”

At those words, a car drove past, Wu Xie wincing as the lights shone in his eyes.

“Shit!”

He was thrown to the ground, the two men backing away from him. Looking up, Wu Xie could make out the scales tattooed on their necks meaning that they were from the Zhang Clan. Shit, why were the Triad attacking him, he thought robbery was a bit beneath them? More concerning, why weren’t they doing anything anymore? The two were staring at him, wide eyed and pale. Wait a minute, why were they scared? They were the ones who attacked him!

“Shit, it’s him. We’re not meant to touch him. He’s going to kill us!”

“No, he’s going to torture us and kill us in the most painful way possible. The top of the list. The one person in this city, this country that you are not meant to touch and you chose him!”

“We were behind him! It’s not like we were given a picture of his ass! Look, don’t worry I know what to do.”

Wu Xie had a head injury. That was the only explanation for attacker one to slip a business card into his pocket and beg him to visit their boss and explain that this was all just some terrible mistake. What kind of self-respecting Triad member did that? Reaching for his phone, Wu Xie decided that it would be a tomorrow problem. Right now, he needed to contact Pangzi and make sure neither uncle heard about this.

“Are you serious? No!”

Pangzi swiped the card from his friend’s hand, glaring at the younger man.

“Like hell you are walking into a Triad building. To do what? Speak to the boss, demand reparations of some kind?”

“Of course not Pangzi. I just want to know what happened last night.”

“You didn’t hit your head that hard Tianzhen. You got attacked last night and had to be treated for bruised ribs, a sprained wrist and get stitches on that head wound.”

“I know all that. I meant after that.”

“After that you were concussed and probably imagining things!”

“So, I imagined that business card into reality?”

Groaning, Pangzi dropped the card in front of Wu Xie, recognising the stubborn pout on Wu Xie’s lips.

“There’s nothing I can say is there?”

“You can say that you’ll drive me there and wait outside like a good friend.”

“Damnit Wu Xie.”

Wu Xie was used to people staring at him. He was emotional, loud and the nephew to two of the wealthiest people in the city. But something was different about this. Normally people looked down at him, the rich boy who used his uncle’s money to open his own shop/studio. Or he was looked at like something to be used. Get into the Wu heir’s good books and you have an in with the brothers.

Here though, people looked afraid of him. Steeling himself, Wu Xie stepped away from the entrance, heading for the receptionist. Taking the card out of his pocket, Wu Xie pasted his biggest, friendliest smile on his lips and waited for the young man to hang up the phone. Considering he worked for the Triad, the man looked fairly unthreatening. Long hair, glasses, nice jaw bone, Wu Xie supposed he was attractive, if not a bit twinky. Hanging up, the man smiled nervously at him.

“Hello sir. The boss will see you now.”

“What?”

“Kan Jian here will show to you to the head office.”

Wu Xie was so distracted by the man’s blazer with the sleeves ripped off that he was standing in an elevator before he knew what was happening.

“I’m sorry, what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t worry sir, the boss will explain it all. Just two more floors aaaannd here we are!”

The elevator doors opened onto an office that even his uncle Erbai would be jealous of. A wall of windows looked over the city, there was a fully stocked bar against one wall, a couch beside it, while a large TV took up the majority of the wall opposite. Directly across from the elevator doors stood a large, wooden desk, mahogany if Wu Xie were to guess, these desks usually were. More importantly behind that desk sat the boss, the head of the Triad. And Wu Xie’s waste of an ex who had abandoned him two years ago.

“Xiaoge?”

His ex-boyfriend was the head of the Triad. And still, Wu Xie was annoyed to say, stupidly handsome, especially in an all-black three-piece suit. Wu Xie had always been weak for a man in suits, especially when it was Xiaoge.

“It always felt like you were hiding something from me. Never would have guessed this though.”

Accepting the drink from the other man, Wu Xie tried to ignore the eyes running over his body and the frown on Xiaoge’s face.

“Wait! You’re why I’ve never been robbed or attacked. Until now at least. Why?”

Xiaoge settled onto the couch beside the younger man, an odd look on his face. Wu Xie knew Xiaoge, knew that he always needed a minute or two to think over his words.

“It was the only way I could keep you safe. I always knew I’d have to take over. Zhang Rishan gave me a few years to be normal. I wasn’t expecting to meet you and fall in love. When I took over, I sent out a picture of you and informed everyone that touching you meant instant death. Clearly, not everyone understood.”

“This is why you had to leave, isn’t it?”

“This life isn’t safe. If I involved you, you’d be in danger. I had to keep you safe Wu Xie. You were and still are the most important person to me. If you got hurt because of me, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Wasn’t that my decision to make!? Xiaoge, I was a mess after you left. I didn’t eat, I didn’t look after myself, I dropped out of university! You leaving ruined me. And now you tell me it was to protect me and you did it because you love me so much? What am I meant to say to that?”

“Tell me what to do. Wu Xie, please. I’ll do anything to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

Wu Xie looked at his ex, mind racing. He knew what Xiaoge was expecting. That Wu Xie would give him some impossible task. But damnit, Wu Xie loved him. The last two years had been the most difficult of his life. Wu Xie had spent the entire time feeling like something was missing, searching for Xiaoge in every crowd, dreaming about him every night. Even just being in the same room as the other man made him feel better.

“Dinner. At the fanciest restaurant in town, tonight.”

Xiaoge looked at him, a small smile on his face, the one Pangzi always used to call his Wu Xie smile.

“Dinner, that’s it?”

“That’s it. And a very long, overdue conversation.”

“I can do that.”

“Good, see you tonight Xiaoge.”

Wu Xie turned to the elevator, making sure to add extra sway to his hips, aware that the older man was watching him. When the elevator doors closed behind him, Wu Xie realised that Pangzi was going to kill him for this.

Eh, worth it.

#pingxie #pingxie week 2021

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Fifty Eight

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 8th, 1998

“Emile, I told you you’d worry yourself sick if you didn’t take a break,” his mother sighed as she tried to force Emile back into bed. “You need to rest.”

“I need to make sure Faith is okay!” he protested. “Resting can wait!”

“Emile, you’re running a medium-grade fever and you’re shaking like you’re going to pass out at any moment,” his mother said, gently pushing Emile back onto the bed. “You need to rest if you have any hope of continuing to help your friends later.”

Emile pouted. “As soon as you let me leave the house again I’ll be checking up on her.”

“Then you’re not leaving the house until you’re better,” his mother said simply. “Rest up, honey, please. You’ll feel so much better if you do.”

March 16th, 2002

“Remy, this is really unnecessary—”

“—No, Emile, I’m not arguing with you on this,” Remy insisted, leveling Emile with a glare as he pulled the blankets over Emile’s shivering form. “You worked all of last weekend helping friends with mental health issues, and then you take five shifts at Target all because one of your coworkers gave you those puppy dog eyes, and you still did all your school work on top of that, and now you’re exhausted and running a fever. You are staying in bed and you will not be pushing yourself that hard ever. Again. Or else you will be getting an earful from me. Understood?”

Emile coughed and tried to glare right back at Remy, but the effect was dampened by the sheer amount of shaking Emile was doing. When Remy arched an eyebrow, Emile sighed. “Fine,” he groaned. “I won’t push myself that far. I’ll take a day’s break next time.”

“No, there is no ‘next time,’ Emile!” Remy exclaimed. He started pacing the length of the bedroom and all Emile could do was watch. “You always do this! You’re always pushing yourself to be faster, or smarter, or stronger, so that you can do more work, help more people, do whatever needs to be done. And inevitably you almost pass out, or you actually do pass out, or you injure yourself, or you literally work yourself sick. You are staying in bed, and there will not be a ‘next time.’”

Emile sighed. He appreciated that Remy cared. Really, he did. But he couldn’t just stop. “Rem, my friends need me, and we need the extra money from Target, and my classes have to be passed if I want to keep my financial aid. I have to keep up with all of those things.”

“We don’t need the extra money so bad that you work yourself sick,” Remy insisted. “Now we’re just gonna be spending the extra cash on cold medicine, or antibiotics from the doctor’s if you keep this up. And just because none of your friends were suicidal doesn’t mean they weren’t hurting you with those problems. No one has to be my level of extreme before they start causing damage. And a B is a passing grade, Emile. You don’t need a four-point-oh GPA in order to go to grad school to become a therapist.”

Emile leaned into the pillows and groaned. “You don’t understand, Rem. They need me.”

“And they need other people, too. You can’t just have one person as your entire support system. That’s not healthy. I should know. I put that burden on Toby and later on you. And it didn’t end well for anyone involved,” Remy said, crossing his arms and glaring at Emile. “Take a break.”

Emile searched Remy’s face, looking for any crack in his resolve to exploit. Normally he wouldn’t, but these were not normal circumstances. When he found none, he sighed. “You don’t want me to do this again, but...I have to, Rem. I have to make sure they’re okay.”

Remy shook his head. “No, Emile. I’m not arguing with you on this. You’re not going to push yourself past your limits again.”

Emile made a disgruntled noise. “Remy—”

“—No.”

“But Rem—”

“—I said. No.” When Emile opened his mouth to speak again, Remy beat him to the punch. “Every time you push yourself past your limits, I get scared. I’m legitimately terrified that whatever pushed you past those limits is going to wind up hurting or killing you. Ever since I found out you were pushing past your limits to try and help me before you found me a therapist, I’ve wanted to make sure that you don’t get hurt. But you make that a near-impossible job, Emile. For all your talk about not endangering your health, you certainly do it often.

“You pushed past your limits for way longer than you should have before you directed me to a therapist. You go out of your way to help your friends, even if you feel dead on your feet. When you took your friend to the local audition and wound up having a part to play yourself? You nearly passed out—more than once, might I add—after the show was over. Even with your grandfather. If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have taken every last hit your grandfather dished out. Silently. Not showing any hurt, to anyone, but especially not to me, because you wouldn’t want me to feel guilty over you taking that hit for me. In your desire to protect your friends, you’re left damaging yourself, don’t you see that?!”

Emile turned red. Since when could Remy read him so easily? “Okay, okay. You’ve proved your point that this hurts me,” Emile sighed. “But...how do I just...stop? I can’t just cut them off or ignore them when they’re struggling and I have the capacity to help.”

“You wouldn’t be doing either of those things. If someone calls you, or texts you, asking if you can help, all you say is, ‘I’m not in a position where I can help you right now. Can we talk later?’ It’s that easy.” Remy shrugged. “Look, they’re my friends too, Emile. I care about them, however reluctant I may have been to accept that fact at first. But I can’t help them twenty-four-seven, and neither can you. The only difference is that I stop when I know I’ve pushed myself too far. You realize that you’re approaching your limit, or that you’ve passed your limit, and you keep going, because people still need your help, in your mind.”

“They do need my help—”

“—They need help, period. Not your help specifically. Isn’t that why you took me to a therapist? You couldn’t do it on your own and you knew that if I kept pushing you it would end ugly for both of us. You could refer them to a therapist or a psych if it gets bad enough, or just say that you need to focus on yourself for a bit. That’s not bad, it’s not selfish. It’s self-preservation. And frankly, honey, you need a hell of a lot more of that than you already have.”

Emile pulled a face. He knew Remy had a point, but he didn’t want to admit that fact. “What if they get hurt because I didn’t help them?” he asked. “What if they hurt themselves because I didn’t help them?”

“That’s not on you, honey,” Remy said, sitting down on the side of the bed and putting his hand on Emile’s shoulder. “Taking care of yourself and your own needs every once in a while is more than healthy, it’s necessary.”

Emile groaned. “I just...I worry. I can’t help it. I worry about them.”

“I know you do,” Remy said. “So do they. Everyone you’re friends with knows you care about them. Which is why they won’t be concerned you’re blowing them off if you say you need some time to yourself.”

“Remy...” Emile could feel his frustration building. Remy had a point, but couldn’t he see that this mattered to Emile? That he was willing to make the sacrifices necessary to keep his friends safe? “You don’t understand.”

Remy crossed his arms and huffed. “I understand that you’re concerned about your friends. I understand that you’ve lost more of them than you’d care to count. I understand that you’re scared of losing more. I understand your reluctance to take time for yourself when you perceive that you’re needed elsewhere. I understand that when you feel backed up against a wall with all your responsibilities looming overhead, you're more likely to disregard your safety in favor of getting rid of some of those problems. Because you don’t want to worry. But don’t you understand? I worry about you when you push yourself too far. Theo called earlier asking if you were okay because you looked feverish when you talked yesterday. Everyone worries about you when you push yourself too far.”

“But—”

“—Honey, everyone will be relieved if you say you’re taking time to focus on yourself. Trust me. No one will be mad, no one will do anything hasty just because you say you need rest.” Remy shook his head. “You need to stop pushing yourself so much.”

Emile sighed. Remy had all the logical points on his side, and Emile had none. Didn’t mean that he was going to be happy about it, though. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll rest a little more often.”

“All I ask is that you rest when you’re pushing your limits,” Remy said. “The rest of the time, you can worry yourself sick over your friends.”

“I’m already sick,” Emile said weakly.

“Yeah, I know, and I was genuinely worried about this continuing for a hot minute,” Remy said.

Emile sighed. “You know...this is completely off topic, but I think we should upgrade to a Queen. Or a King.”

“As in...” Remy paused. Stood. “As in with beds?”

“Yeah,” Emile said, looking up at Remy. “We cuddle in each others’ beds so much, and we’ve shared tiny beds together before. Upgrading to a Queen would mean we both have space and we don’t have to worry about someone falling off the bed when cuddling. Do you think it’s too soon?”

“Not particularly,” Remy said. “You just...took me off guard, is all.”

“The other good thing about that is that you could force me to relax by cuddling me aggressively in bed until I do what you say,” Emile joked.

Remy actually perked up at that and Emile regretted giving Remy ideas like this from his jokes. He never learned, even though he should have come to expect this sort of thing from Remy. Taking jokes seriously and actually using them as if they were a viable option. “That’s a good idea.”

“That was a joke, Rem.”

“A joke that I will turn into reality,” Remy said definitively. “We’re getting a Queen. Slightly cheaper than a King, and both of us can still fit comfortably, and I can cuddle you until the sun goes away.”

Emile groaned. “Remy, I’m sick, go easy on me, please.”

“All right, all right, I won’t give away all my evil plans to get yourself to give you a break. Besides, it might help to keep a thing or two up my sleeve, anyway,” Remy said.

Emile patted the bed. “You afraid of germs? Or are you willing to cuddle?”

“We live in the same apartment, mio amore. Something tells me that if I’m going to get sick it’s not going to matter whether I cuddle you or not,” Remy said. He took off his socks and lifted up the covers, saying, “Scoot over.”

Emile rolled his eyes but complied and he and Remy just snuggled for a while. He sighed. “What are we gonna do about whichever room is no longer one of ours?” Emile mumbled.

“I dunno,” Remy admitted. “Some point or another it might become an office, when you’re a therapist and you need somewhere to work at home. Until then...uh...guest room?”

“I guess,” Emile said. The gears were whirring in his head, and it might have just been because he was sick, but he was thinking about an office that both of them might use. “What if you started your own shop?”

Remy laughed. “That old pipe dream? I’ve given up hope on getting the money for a property, Emile. I can buy the food, the advertising, hire people, and all that, if I save my money properly. But I can’t afford to rent, let alone buy, a property where I could start my own coffee shop.”

“Y’know, we should probably start saving more money anyway,” Emile mused. “Emergency funds, retirement, all that good stuff.”

“I guess,” Remy sighed. “I do like getting to go on dates with you, though.”

“So let’s make it a once a month thing, instead of twice, and go to places that don’t charge too much,” Emile reasoned. “Saving our money is important. Especially if we’re going to be splurging on a bed.”

Remy laughed. “True.”

Emile grinned. He was getting a crazy idea, and it might have been because he was sick, but Remy had been passed on promotions before. And if they saved properly, he knew they could get a shop off the ground.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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modern-oedipus · 4 years

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Covid Vent

No one: Nila, who goes out maybe once in a month due to covid: *listens to coffee shop sounds in youtube to get in mood* It’s really hard to maintain social isolation now that it has been 5 months. But the cases are going up and up and up, hitting my friends and their families. I myself had to split houses with my mother because she had covid cases in her work place. I don’t think I’d isolate myself this much if I wasn’t in the risk group, but I am. Knowing that I am most likely to go to intensive care and experience the trouble breathing again like I did during the asthma treatment is not good. The potential permanent damage on lungs, for someone like me whose lungs are already more prone to sickness compared to healthy people, is also a big no, considering that I’m only in my early twenties and if everything goes well and I live a normal life I’d live around 50 more years. 50 more years with a disability or isolating myself at home? Isolation, obviously. But this pandemic doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. I am only indoors because both my internships are online & college hasn’t started yet. I know that I’ll eventually have to go out if my college doesn’t switch to online education. It doesn’t scare me at all, though, I am not like, “anxious”. I’m concerned, disturbed, alert, but not in a paranoid anxiety. If I end up catching covid, I’m at least mentally prepared to deal with it. I’m also eating healthy and exercising and don’t really have health problems except for that past-lung-treatments that more or less put me to a risk group (risky enough to concern me, even though I don’t have a chronic illness), so who knows, I might just pass it like a flu as well. No one knows. It’s not good overthinking covid, all I can do is to keep social distancing & mask & hygiene, as always. I’m just so suffocated. I’m more prone to be an extrovert. Before pandemic, I’d only use my house to sleep I’d keep being out in public, attending events, ORGANIZING events, going to coffee shops, club meetings, lots and lots of stage plays, tours, everything. I’d sneak into my friends’ dorms and change cities and just so many more “normal” fun things. I was barely starting to enjoy my life again after the depression healed. Now, I’m mentally ok, but physically trapped. The “watch netflix, read books, stay home” thing is kind of overdosing me right now. I like this shit for a week maybe, not for 5 months. I don’t know how to not risk my mental health while keeping my physical health anymore. Of course, to even HAVE a mental health I need to stay alive, so I’m not complaining- health care workers, people who go to job everyday (including my parents), etc. are in such a harder situation. I know. But my own life is also valid, and while not as troubling and concerning as lives of others right now, well, I think I’m still worth caring, at least by myself. I don’t expect any extra outside compassion or validation (we all are in same situation), me writing my thoughts here is more of me just trying to see my thoughts being worded on screen so that maybe I can come up with a solution to these things as I go. Because I’ve always been a problem-solver rather than just merely venting. (I can’t always solve problems though, I need to work on accepting this fact.) Anyway, I just thought, maybe spending more time outdoors in the natural park that is close to my house could be a good thing. But it’s crowded since it’s outdoors and I really don’t want to share any commonly used areas right now. (I used to be more than okay with this before covid, as I said, I’m mostly extroverted and I like community gatherings, but I like being healthy more), so like... Idk, maybe I can just sort of have phone calls and videochats with my friends as I sit outdoors. Except I don’t even know I have that many friends anymore. I mean, I do- I surely do have bestest of friends in my life that I’m grateful for, but like. I am somehow an introvert magnet and while I’d die for most of my best friends (both irl and online) I don’t really think they are as hype about just chatting as often as I am. (I know that this doesn’t mean they love me any less. They love me in their own way & I love them in their own way so that’s OK.) So like. Maybe Nila, have this BRILLIANT idea of making more friends. Except. Like. You’re at home so you aren’t in much of social gatherings [you aren’t in any! That is insane!] and you don’t really know how to make friends from home. I mean, yes there are online friends but like. EVEN WITH THEM. How can I just *trust* them right away? I can’t, so like. I don’t know. I’m bored af. On the bright side, today one of my bff from school called me and said he’s back in town and that we should catch up, he’s literally one of the greatest company ever and he wants to see the doggo, so I’m positive we can just have hour 9242309204 hours long in-depth chats again without getting bored (amazing to have people like that in my life). Anyway. I guess the moral of this is:

- I need to accept “the new normal”

- I need to protect myself but try to keep my mental health as good as possible because I like myself more when my mental health is fine and I can also come up with better creations then

- I need to finish my course work (internship) so that I can relax before school starts

- I need to spend more time outdoors but in isolated areas (good luck finding them!)

- I need to recharge

- I “want to” make more friends or just check up on existing ones! I can’t use the word “need” for this because this would degrade the freedom of the other party. Friends are appreciated, and to some extend, a necessity for social creatures like us, but no “need” will make it happen. I will just make an effort to check up on my existing friends more frequently-- I’m quite selective at this, though, I prefer generally upbringing people who are mature to a certain extend (aka, no obsession, no passive-aggression. yes to personal boundaries, yes to an overall nice attitude [we all can have problems and that’s ok and that’s normal. what /I/ personally don’t wish to be around [with my all respect] is this mindset of “life is a disaster let’s be depressed” thing. I just love love my current friend circle because even if my close friends are just around 7 people, and even if we get depressed or sad or scared, our general look to life is nicer, we don’t make disasters out of regular days, we enjoy talking and chatting, which overall increases our life quality and makes it better. We also communicate & respect & listen to each other and all. I mean. It’s not like that with everyone, and that’s ok, but as I said, this is my personal preference. I prefer having bonds that are good rather than toxic and I am doing my best to be equally good, rather than being toxic to my friends. [I’m sorry I post a lot of Banana Fish to those who don’t know Banana Fish, ok. I know ur bored but like I just cannot help it. I’m trying to tone it down but BANANA FISH.] sOOOOOOOO, SOOOO that’s why it’s not how “i have 29420343204 friends uwu” mindset, like, I noticed I need to be reasonably picky with those I’m close to so that I and people I love can overall have a nice, fun days, which is point of friendship. (I mean. As I said. I’m here on bad days too. But I don’t feel mentally healthy enough to carry the burden of someone else’s depression. It hasn’t even been two months since I’m out of therapy yet, and my mental health is, while not bad, it is fragile. I’d rather not be around those who can [mostly, unwillingly] effect me badly. SO LIKE. - that’s one hell of a long post nila, but long story short FRIENDS or you’ll die out of boredom

- also just finish your coursework i beg you

- thanks for coming to my ted talk, I actually always offer potential solutions on my vent posts, but this time i wanted to write this publicly [i dont think anyone will read this and i dont mind it] because like. why not? it’s just me thinking and I feel as if this could be of use for some people who are reading this & isolating themselves too. anyway, i love u, stay safe.

#quarantine #covid19 #social isolation #social distancing #mental health #friendship #health #nila stuff

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years

Text

I Can’t Eat Love pt 16

Here’s the next part. This involves quite a bit of a time skip.

Next part marks the halfway point of the story, bringing us back to the very first scene between Ronan and Lenora. Things are definitely going to change!

Master Post Link here

__________________________________

The Duchy flourished.

We trained our new officials and solidified checks and balances to keep things honest and efficient. The school expanded to multiple trades, and soon I was cooperating with other nobles to open up similar establishments across the kingdom. Through it all, Armeny led the way, becoming a center for trade, skilled workers and culture.

Another year had passed, I was seventeen, and coming up on the last year before the big scandal that had ruined my life the first time around. I knew that I needed to move out of the spotlight, so that my fall from grace would have as little as an effect as possible of the work I had already accomplished.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about the business “Prosperity.” No one seemed to realize that I was in charge, and simply seemed to think I was one of their most loyal customers. I would be able to continue to run things from behind the scenes.

But the Duchy was a different story. Most of the nobility knew by this point that I was the one actually in charge. At first, some of the older men had protested to my father, decrying it as “unnatural” and “harmful.” Fortunately the Duke’s laziness was not to be underestimated. After getting a chance to live a life free of the responsibilities he hated, my father was not going to be coerced into taking them on again. He simply told them he couldn’t be bothered, and that everything would work out in the end. In the face of his never faltering, if vaguely directed optimism, they were forced to give up.

I had been left in relative peace since then, but that would change once my reputation and status were ruined. To prepare for that, I needed a figurehead. Someone who could help to run the Duchy instead of me, but wouldn’t try to change too many things whenever I wasn’t looking.

And so, I sent for Henry.

A distant cousin on my father’s side, Henry was officially the heir of the title.

Traditionally he should have been at my father’s side, learning to take over from the time he was young, but that seemed that it had been too much effort for the Duke. I had met him only a few times over the years, he was always quiet, intelligent… if a little boring to talk to, and a hard worker. He spent most of his time studying the different uses of plants, and publishing his findings.

He had never inherited the title in my previous life. After my family fell from grace, the Duchy had been absorbed by its neighbors, and as far as I knew he lived his life either unaware or not caring that his inheritance had disappeared. He seemed to find joy in scientific study rather than money and the company of others.

He was perfect.

__________________________________

“So I am to take over the Duchy?” Henry sat across from me, drinking tea, his gaze more on the floor than on me.

“In part. You’ll be taking on some of the workload, but I’ll still have a hand in making sure things stay on track.”

He thought that over for a few moments, sighing. “What’s in it for me?”

THAT caught me off guard.

“You’ll have to be the Duke eventually, and this is part of the job. Also, you get to live in a nice house, you won’t have to worry about money…”

“But I really don’t want the title! I have everything I need at my home.” He shook his head. “I may not have money or a big house… but my plants…

“I’ll build you a greenhouse, and move your plants here so you can continue your studies. I’ll even buy you more plants if you like…”

“I’ll move in next week.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his immediate agreement once plants were involved.

__________________________________

We built a greenhouse, and Henry moved in without causing much fuss. He took to the administrative work naturally. I found to my delight that not only was he easy to work with, but when we had time he would take me through the greenhouse, teaching me the various uses of different herbs and plants.

“And this is winterblue…” He pointed out a leafy green plant without flowers. On looking closer I noticed that the edges of the leaves were tinged with a light blue.

“What does it do?” I felt the leaf between my fingers, noting how soft it was.

“Nothing too amazing. If you brew tea with it, it can boost the body’s health. So if someone is showing early signs of illness, this can be a good thing to give them.”

“Anything poisonous in here?” I was mostly joking, but Henry nodded seriously, pointing at the far corner of the greenhouse.

“The more you know about these kinds of things, the better.” He grimaced. “I study a few of these poisons in hopes of understanding how to negate or treat them.”

“Just keep a close eye on them, please.” It made me nervous to have poisonous plants on the grounds, but after a few months of working with Henry I knew better than to try to persuade him to get rid of a plant. “I’d hate to see them fall into the wrong hands.”

__________________________________

My etiquette lessons completed a year earlier than they had in my previous life, having covered a great amount more of material.

Mrs. Rendler pronounced me a natural genius and claimed I was the best student she had ever trained. I was slightly uncomfortable with the title, given the extra three years advantage that I had, but it wasn’t as if I could set the record straight. I had hoped as the lessons were over I could be excused from visiting the palace, but found myself spending the designated days with the Queen, instead.

The reason given was that I would follow her around, “to get a feel for the work the Queen has to do.” And for perhaps a single week she stuck to this, but it almost immediately evolved into “all the mother-daughter activities Queen Amerande has wanted to do but couldn’t find an excuse to before.”

We visited other families together, went shopping, walked through various gardens and public sites. I meant to beg off in the beginning, to make excuses and miss the less than useful meetings, but… She was so excited each time. She smiled when she saw me, asking about my week. We would talk for hours, and although I tried to keep as much back as I could, she somehow would manage to get me to talk about whatever was going on.

It was painful, sometimes. She acted every bit the mother I had always wanted, but I remained aware that it had to be a simple charade. Something that would end once the engagement was broken. And she must have sensed my concern about this to some extent, because although she continued to treat me as she always had, if not closer, the necklace I had refused remained in her jewelry box, likely waiting to be given to Edith once the prince chose her.

It was what I had told her to do, but it still made me uncomfortable to think about.

__________________________________

Through the next years Nate and I continued to write each other. He seemed to be doing well back in his home country, and was implementing many of the changes we had tried in my duchy back there. His letters were always long, filled with excited rambling that made me smile. It reminded me of how enthusiastic he always was during classes to come up with ideas for the Duchy.

I missed the time we had all spent together. I still visited the royal treasury once a month but it was more to help Jim teach his newer students than anything else. If I ran into a complex problem I either wrote to Nate for advice or visited Jim on a free day to talk it out. I appreciated still having their support… but it was just not the same as it had been.

The letters were often awkwardly worded, as Nate struggled desperately to not reveal his identity through them. He slipped frequently, but I refused to think about it, or consider any obvious clues. I didn’t want to care anything about him… the less I knew about him, the better.

And if I was always happy to receive a letter from him… it was because I valued his expertise in economics… not because I cared at all.

__________________________________

I slowly paid off the family debt, and between the now three stores I owned with Maline, we were both wealthier than I had ever expected to be. We had even opened a branch store geared towards the average person, with well made clothes sold at affordable cost, and soon had to hire more and more people. I was funding my father and mother, as well as Henry’s expenses, but still had plenty more. I put more into the food charity and schools, not forgetting what it was like to not have a job or regular food.

The Duchy was thriving. The family was wealthy. I had prepared everything I could.

The future would be different this time.

__________________________________

“Miss?” Hallers opened the door, finding me sitting in my office despite the fact that it was well before dawn. “Is everything all right? Why aren’t you in bed?”

I sighed, looking at him with a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I woke you, Hallers. I couldn’t sleep. Just trying to mentally prepare for the future.”

Today was the day before Ronan’s eighteenth birthday. It was the day of my last “lesson” with the Queen, my last tea with the prince.

The day that had ruined my life was tomorrow.

“I beg your pardon, Miss, but if anyone had prepared for the future, it’s you.You can’t predict everything, but you’ve worked hard and helped those around you.” He smiled, startling me. “ You’ll be a wonderful queen one day, if you don’t mind me saying.”

I laughed at that, not able to explain the irony of his words. He would understand tomorrow. “Try not to put too much faith in me, Hallers, you’ll only be disappointed.”

He leaned over and squeezed my hand, his eyes kind. “I normally would never disagree with you, it’s not a butler’s place, but I will now: You could never disappoint me. I have never been so proud of someone, as I have been with you.”

“…” I stared at him in shock, as he slowly stood back up, resuming his professional stance.

“Now, you can go back to your room and have a short nap. We’ll bring you some breakfast and send you off to the palace once you’re ready.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that clear?”

I stood up, chuckling. “What would I do without you, Hallers?”

“Don’t worry, Miss. You won’t ever have to find out.”

__________________________________

My last tea with the Prince was as boring as ever. I hadn’t been able to bring Edith today, as I was able to most weeks, her mother had wanted her to stay home for a dress fitting. Edith had been annoyed, Ronan was irritated once he realized she wasn’t going to be there, and I wasn’t too happy either. Normally I let them chat together, reading a book as they ignored my existence, him bragging and her complimenting.

But today...

“How are your birthday preparations coming along?”

“…” He stared down at the table, refusing to talk. I sipped at my tea, silently glad as I always was that I never let Hallers come along for these outings. I wasn’t sure if the butler had ever killed anyone before, and I wasn’t about to let the Prince be his first victim.

I kept talking, pretending this was a cordial conversation. “I heard your mother hired some of the best musicians around, so the music should be lovely. Of course food will be wonderful…”

This WAS the one thing I had been looking forward to. The royal chef was amazing, and I had missed out on the food at the party last time as I had left in tears after he broke the engagement. This time around I was determined to get to try some.

“…” He nodded silently, pretending I didn’t exist. I reached the end of my patience.

“Well, this has been wonderful, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave early. I need to say goodbye to your mother before I leave, and then finish preparations for the party.” I stood up, relieved I wouldn’t have to pretend enjoy his presence after tomorrow, as I turned to walk away, however, he called out, stopping me.

“Lenora?

“Yes?” I looked back at him. He seemed uncomfortable, but forced himself to speak.

“We’ll need to talk tomorrow, come find me as soon as you arrive at the party.”

Before I even get to eat? “Sure.”

I walked away, wondering how I could hide from him long enough to eat the food before he broke off the engagement, in case I had to leave the party.

__________________________________

“We need to talk tomorrow.” The prince’s face was serious.

“Of course!” I smiled, hoping he thought I looked pretty. “However long you need!”

I walked away, feeling excited. Perhaps the time we were spending together was finally taking effect! Maybe he wants to tell me he loves me! With this and other fanciful imaginings, I thought of little else for the rest of the day

__________________________________

“The tea ended so early, did it not go well?” Queen Amerande asked me with a frown as I approached to say goodbye.

“He really wasn’t in the mood to talk.” Especially not to me.

She reached out, hugging me tightly. “Dear, I appreciate you giving as much time as you have to this, I’m sorry he… he’s like this.”

“It’s fine.”

And it was.

I cared little for his personality, habits, or lack of etiquette. It was amazing how freeing realizing that he and I were never going to be married was in how I viewed him. I had always worried I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pretty or clever or graceful enough to catch his eye. But now, it didn’t matter. I didn’t want him to notice me.

“No, it’s not. He shouldn’t treat you so poorly.” She sighed. “He’s my son, I love him… but that doesn’t mean I wish I could shake some sense into him sometimes.”

“You can’t force these things.” I smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I spoke the words I realized: it was the last time we would get to see each other in such a casual setting. My stomach started hurting. I would need to ask Henry to see if he could brew me tea for stomachaches.

Which reminded me…

“I brought you something.” I reached into my pockets, pulling out a packet of dried winterblue leaves. “I was worried you were sounding ill, so if you brew this into your tea, it should help you feel better.

In truth, she didn’t sound sick at all, but I knew she would be soon.

__________________________________

“Where’s the Queen?” It was my first question on arriving to the party. I was nervous, curious about what the prince wanted to talk to me about. I had wanted to see the Queen first, but looking around the ballroom, I didn’t see her anywhere.

“I heard she was too ill this morning to attend.” Edith smiled at me as she spoke. She was dressed much nicer than normal, and seemed… excited, almost. I wondered what was going on, but dismissed the question as soon as I thought of it.

“I hope she feels better soon.” I murmured, making plans to visit the next day.

Edith’s smile widened. “I’m sure she will.”

__________________________________

I had never gotten a chance to visit her after the engagement had been broken, but I remembered hearing that it had taken her quite a few days to recover.

Of course… it might have all been an excuse to avoid me after her son broke our engagement.

Even as that dark thought crossed my mind, I handed her the tea. If she truly did get sick in the past life, maybe the tea would help, and if not… well, the tea wouldn’t hurt.

Queen Amerande took the tea, looking slightly confused. “You know, I must look more sick than I realized. I feel fine, but this is the second time someone has given me tea today.”

That caught my attention, “Someone else brought you tea?”

“Yes, your friend Edith brought me some tea leaves earlier today. She said it would help ‘calm my nerves.’” She shrugged. “I wasn’t feeling stressed, but since she was a close friend of yours I was planning on trying it tonight to be polite. But now I’m afraid I won’t.” She clutched the tea I had handed her, looking extremely happy. “My daughter gave me something better so of course I have to use that instead!”

Dancing around, you would have thought I had given her jewels or gold rather than a simple bag of died leaves. “It will be the best tea I’ve ever had!”

I laughed at that. “You haven’t even tried it yet!”

“You gave it to me! So it’s the best!” She pretended to frown for a moment and then gave me a hug.

I hugged her back, and then made my goodbyes, preparing to leave. The Queen stopped me, handing me a different tea bag. “Here. This is the tea Edith gave me. It’s not the most polite thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t really drink medicinal tea all that often.” She grinned. “Unless of course it’s been given to me by family. You’ve had a lot going on lately, though, so maybe it can help with your stress.”

Shrugging, I took the bag. I would likely throw it away, I wasn’t very eager to try anything from Edith. I was curious that she had made the trip up earlier without me to see the queen, but on closer thought, it made sense. Edith was going to be engaged to the prince soon. She was probably trying to make a good impression on her future mother in law.

It was funny… I had no issues with the thought of her marrying Ronan, my fiancé… but the idea of her being Queen Amerande’s daughter in law made me want to scream in frustration.

I must just be tired.

__________________________________

I headed home, feeling determined. Tomorrow was the day I had been preparing for ever since I had been reborn. So much was different, but still this day always had loomed ahead, a reminder of the terrible ending I had once faced.

It would be different this time.

I was different this time.

I was ready.

#writing #i can't eat love #second life #fantasy #didn't want to stay in the first three yea

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imitationpersonne · 5 years

Note

Lotus: Talk about a struggle you overcame (or are currently overcoming). How did it affect you?

Cute Flower-themed Asks

He exhales after a moment and speaks in a voice both resigned and rueful.

“Yeah… I guess I could talk about that. Nobody’s really listening right now anyway, and I can only imagine my therapist would think this is good for me. Trying to put this sort of thing in words to somebody who isn’t her… It’s funny; no matter how many times I’ve had to talk about it in therapy by now, it’s still hard to get it all out. I say ‘it’ like it’s just one thing, but of course, if it were just a single issue, things wouldn’t be nearly so complicated.

“We’ve rifled through so many nuances at this point, I can hardly imagine where to start now. Perhaps it’s best I answer the question that’s always the first on others’ minds. I was the only one to disappear completely this past summer break, to not show up to a single extra-curricular training session that–let’s be honest–was basically mandatory if any of us expected to be able to keep up for the rest of third year. And I showed up an entire week late to the beginning of the next trimester at that. So where did I go?

“There were plenty of theories regarding what I could have possibly been up to, some especially unsavory ones considering I had recently made…many more enemies, some of them my old friends and classmates. …Unfortunately, some of those rumors just happened to hold the truth. Kendou was the only one who actually knew anything, though. But she’s a good friend; she only ever told anybody exactly what I asked her to. I went to France. It was…a family matter.

“If it could be considered a ‘family matter’ that the only reason my parents sent me so far away was because they wanted to be absolutely certain no one who knew us would discover our shame. My shame…I guess… You see, I’d gotten into a bad spot at school. I’d become so bitter… Nobody was living up to my expectations, yet I myself never seemed to get the admiration I deserved. I got so angry thinking everyone was gradually turning on me–losing interest or judging me unfairly or stabbing me in the back in favor of others–I went too far. My drive to ‘give them all what they deserved’ had begun to put not only my enemies but my old comrades in danger. I admit now I let them down–even though I swear I was the one who felt let down by all of them.

“I was assigned school-sponsored counseling sessions, but really, what was there to help me with if the problem was with everybody else? …It didn’t work out very well, so…in the end, school administration gave me an ultimatum. Take a break to spend the upcoming summer away in intensive ‘behavioral therapy’ or face suspension and possible expulsion from UA. So I went. (No, not that easily, but that doesn’t matter.) It wasn’t any real sort of choice, you know? So yeah, ha ha ha, Monoma really is crazy; he got pulled out of school and ‘locked up’ and everything! You see? How could I possibly tell anybody about this? Sometimes I can still only barely swallow it myself.

“Kendou only knew because I told her before I left, because…if the worst were to happen–if, for whatever reason, I were to never come back to UA–I needed somebody to understand what happened. Maybe it was silly, but…it’s terrifying to imagine being forgotten by absolutely everybody–for all the people who once knew me to just move on without me.

“So, I was banished to France. My mother’s an immigrant, and we’ve paid multiple visits and vacations to the country, so I suppose that was the first option to come to mind when my mother decided to expel me from my home country to distance my problems from her reputation. At least she had the benevolence not to spare expense for her dear wayward son.

“I hear it’s well-known for its ‘quality facilities and reliable treatment’. I promise I’ve only experienced the one, so my frame of reference for luxury mental health centers is limited. The way one of the other patients in my group described it, it was a ‘convenient place for rich parents to stick their kids when they were tired of dealing with them after fucking them up.’ Hah… She was a piece of work, honestly. But by the end, I don’t know if I could call her wrong…

“It’s not like there were actual crazy people. At least, they weren’t very crazy. Sure, there was a…frankly gorgeous boy–who saw things his quirk couldn’t account for and had stalked and threatened a few innocent people because he ‘knew’ they were criminals. (Hah, an aspiring hero, actually…) There was a girl who made a habit of hurting herself, who tried to get under everybody’s skin in the worst possible ways and ended up making all the people who passed through hate her, even though, I’m pretty sure she just secretly wanted to keep all of them there, with her. And there were plenty of others; every single one of them was different.

“But there was nobody wrapped up in straight jackets or tied to beds, no gowns or hospital-like sterility… It’s not at all like what you see in the movies, and I can’t say I was disappointed in the least with that discovery. That’s probably a different kind of place. Here though, it was mostly just…an assorted variety of unhappy ‘young adults’ without much hope or other place to go.

“That wasn’t me, though. I had plans; I was poised on the edge of fulfilling my dreams. I wasn’t some broken, lost reject reaching their dead end, and I had no intention of sticking around for long. I didn’t belong there, and I was determined to prove that. I knew I would be able to show them all this was clearly a misunderstanding, a mistake, and that I was fine.

“I admit I myself made some mistakes. I may or may not have broken a few (silly) rules more than once… I was angry and frustrated and bored and–… Well, I think Felix could probably be a whole story of his own. But looking back on it, I guess I can’t blame them for being unconvinced. It’s strange; it seems almost anything you thought was normal can look like mental illness when you’re already a patient. It was–… Sometimes I still can’t tell what’s okay and what isn’t.

“…In any case, after three weeks of things mostly being everybody else’s problem, they decided to keep me longer than the agreed-upon four. Which, finally, explains my absence for the first week of school. I was not pleased to hear this decision. I was so beyond displeased–didn’t even know that was on the table–that they could trap me there until they got what they wanted? And what was that exactly? Was I supposed to cry, admit to feeling hopeless, give them a sob story about my parents or confess to some flaw they could fix in me? It felt like I was being punished.

“I didn’t know what to do, but I had no choice but to try. I didn’t have time for anything else; UA would surely wait no longer. And do you know how hard it is to trust the people keeping you back from your life? These were the people who expected me to open up to them, the ones with the power to hold hostage everything I held dear. And what if I conceded the problems they were looking for? Wouldn’t that just prove I needed to stay longer? Being forced to expose yourself to the people looking to convict you… It’s such a trapped feeling, it could break a man.

“So I broke. …I don’t know… I said things, and the more I said, the more there was to look into. Eventually I said…a lot. Enough, I guess, to be shown a mirror, a framed reflection of myself and my life and the things that went on within it. And it was awful. The perspective was so off from what I was familiar with, it was almost unrecognizable. The things I was convinced–I knew must be normal, stupid unpleasant things that nobody talks about but everybody goes through and just has to get over– They’re not; they’re really bad–and I hated it. I still hate it so much–things I could have just ignored or forgotten about, now I can’t. Sometimes I just can’t stop thinking about it. And the realization, that I really am one of the broken people that belong here–facing the fact that I’m ruined, and I don’t feel like a whole person… The fact that there is no cure for all the things wrong with me; there’s no medication I can just take and make it all better, unlike some people; it’s just me; I’m stuck with all of this…

“… Sorry… I don’t think I’ve gotten through this still. If there was some happy ending I was supposed to receive by the end of my stay, I think I missed it. And I think it’s because, in the end, the administrators must have actually had ‘mercy’. It turns out they actually did care about me missing school and losing my opportunities…so it came down to a choice between my full recovery or my future. I must have made just enough ‘progress’ to be set free.

“Coming back has been hard in ways I didn’t know it could be. I actually am on medication now; though I’m pretty sure I didn’t have depression before… And I think the dose must still need adjusting.I’ve apologized to the people who deserved it, and of course, I’m still seeing a therapist… But I’m just so exhausted. Even after making up the week’s worth of missed work, it feels like I’m barely treading water, in school and…in general.

“I have some of my friends back, but I’m sure I’m not the same person to them. Somehow that’s not even a good thing. I just can’t seem to turn it all back on; it just feels so fake and falls apart. I can’t help but keep wondering if none of this should have happened in the first place. If I could just go back, forget I’ve ever learned anything, and just return to thinking the way I used to. I was okay–more okay than this, wasn’t I? Am I really looking forward to anything better? I didn’t have to know. –I know… I know living like that was toxic in so many other ways, that it wasn’t real, and I was hurting myself and other people. But my parents seem to be doing just fine operating the way they do, don’t they? If I could have made it work for me… –And what is real anyway? I don’t even know what makes sense anymore.

“This was the worst time something like this could have happened (though I can’t imagine what it would have been like saying what I did before I was eighteen; that could have been disastrous). Now, arguably the most important year, when I’m so close to graduation and supposed to be focusing on final internships and impressing prospective agencies the most… There’s just no time for any of this, and I can’t…

“I’m worried I left too early.I never want to go back there, but at the same time, I’m terrified I might need to… But at this point, it would ruin everything; I simply can’t. So I’m just doing my best; all I can do is my best and hope that it gets better.

“…Thanks for listening.”

#wow that sure was a whole thing that got written wasn't it?#I should have been in bed five hours ago; I'm gonna be dead tomorrow #IC #t: After Summer #headcanons #asks #Anonymous #angst #cw: self harm mention #cw: depression #cw: trauma #cw: mental illness #Supporting Role--Mother

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iglooface · 5 years

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My whole school career, despite how short it may be thus far, I have always been complimented and received positive remarks about how smart I was and how talented I was. They all find it strange that these are not traits I am proud of.

I grew up with depression, anxiety, and insomnia. My three original traits that have come to rule my life. I inherited mild depression from my mother, and anxiety and insomnia from my father. In all of my years in school except for the last I have been bullied mercilessly for everything about my being. It would vary from my hair, my style of clothing, my physical being, calling me ugly, exclusion, death threats, abandonment, being called names and excessively pointing out my mistakes (surprise! I'm human unlike most bastards I meet). I also had chronic nose bleeds, so from the beginning everyone was always grossed out by me for bleeding from my face nearly every day (most of my clothes are stained with my own blood because of this and I'm honestly too broke to afford new clothes very often). Even teachers and my own parents would put me down for nearly everything I did for one reason or the other; nothing I ever did was right. And to add more I'm often put after my sisters' needs and wants. I've never been prioritized.

I was, and still am, a sickly child. I've technically had my heart stopped and been dead twice before and I had a handful of major surgeries before my sophmore year in highschool. My doctors don't ever listen to me and they think I'm dramatic when I bring up actual chronic symptoms I suffer from.

As a child, we moved around a lot and so I switched schools often and was never able to make or keep friends. I come from a long line of verbally and emotionally abusive teachers who went on without consequence whilst I get in trouble for trying to fix myself. In grade school alone I had all but two of my teachers quit their jobs and/or be replaced after that year, if not during the middle.

Children are highly impressionable, and so these kinds of events did lead up to me thinking it was somehow my fault. Logically I know this not to be true, but impressions and mental illnesses are not logical.

In seventh grade alone, I had gone through 12 different prescriptions for pain and different types of birth control to regulate my period and my chronic cramps. It's highly likely that I had, and still have, endometriosis, yet my doctors are always reluctant to perform any blood tests on me simply because I am young, as if being young makes it entirely impossible for me to have health issues.

My periods were unstable to a point that I'd end up having one for thirteen days, or months apart. Given, young girls with periods often experience irregular cycles, but mine kept landing me in the hospital which is never a good sign.

I was bullied that year to a point that I tried to kill myself and failed, and I managed to avoid my parents finding out. This was the beginning of my incredibly high drug tolerance. At the end of that year, my favorite teacher was killed in a car accident.

The following year, it was found out I had massive ovarian cysts that were increasing my insomnia and put me in agonizing pain nearly every moment of my life. But my doctors refused to take action because I was young. That year I was further emotionally abused by a handful of my teachers. One of them, worse than others, was fired during the beginning of the third trimester of the school year. Her replacement, a long term substitute, was even worse. She had bullied and abused the class so hard that kids had killed themselves and I ended up getting conversion disorder.

Conversion disorder is a mental disorder in where my body cannot handle stress. My brain doesn't know how to function and deal with high stress situations, so instead it shuts off my physical body. Symptoms vary from person to person, but mine are on more of the extreme end. It varies from extreme memory loss, seizures, not breathing, choking on white foam produced by my body, screaming unconsciously, blacking out, temporary amnesia, and paralysis. This is a condition that I cannot control under any circumstances, and it truly dictates my life.

Now my mom had gone to the principal (the school cycles through five in a single school year because of a whole lot of drama) to report this teacher and get a new one. And instead of acting reasonably, the principal quite literally told us she wouldn't look into a replacement because it wouldn't change anything.

And, oh, how wrong she was.

I had previously had mild anxiety and depression from previous life experiences, but this year pushed me to be anxious to a fault (granting me a new stutter, hours long panic and anxiety attacks, migraines, etc), and pushed me into such a strong depression I became highly suicidal and went into an emotional shock. And because of this I also gained PTSD, which is a whole trip within itself.

Freshman year was a wreck. Another one of my middle school teachers had died; she died from cancer and was one of very few people who were ever nice to me. I was being bullied on a whole new level of horrid, and I was flunking every class I had been in. My conversion disorder episodes became do frequent and so severe that the school actually kicked me out illegally for about two months before they continued my education on independent study. That year my dog was put down. And normally that wouldn't be such a big deal except for the part she was quite literally my only friend for three years.

Even worse; I was in recovery after one of my more major surgeries to get my ovarian cysts removed to help with my pain and sleeping problems. I was fragile and under the influence of strong drugs when I decided to take my dog on a walk around my property for the first time in a month because I had been on bed rest. She had seen my neighbor, and gotten freaked out by him (he radiates massive pedophile vibes) and so she jumped on him. Now this over privileged scumbag thought the appropriate response was to threaten to shoot my dog if he ever saw her again no matter the circumstance, and proceeded to curse me out profusely all while I tried to apologise and make it right.

My dog had become a liability because of this man and we had to put her down. Take in mind she was an amazing dog, and had never disobeyed me. She was protective of me as she had been since we adopted her and was genuinely the best thing that has ever happened to me. She'd check on me when I cried and lay with me when I was sick, and was there for me more often that my actual parents were.

The next year, I was bullied slightly less, but I had a great ordeal of friend drama and my fair amount of fights with the office staff. One of my friends, who I thought was close to me, had threatened to kill me after I offended her exactly once. I had a bad day after another episode and she had built this reputation of not feeling and being unattached to the real world. I wasn't in the mood to deal with people and when she asked me if I was okay I questioned why she cared. That was it. Later I had apologized because I had come to terms that I was in the wrong for dismantling her emotions, but she decided to take it too far.

One of my teachers was permanently removed from the school for having nudes on a school device, and they brought in a long term substitute. This was about when my PTSD really started to kick me in the nuts, so I went back on independent study to complete the year. My only other friends moved away and my significant other had killed himself after killing himself shortly after telling me he loved me.

I don't expect people to understand the kind of psychological damage this causes to a person, but I can tell you that it hurts.

I was referred to a continuation school in my area for flunking both years of highschool, and this continuation school had a bad reputation of being troubled kids and violent beings.

I get there, I spend my year being amazed by how nice people are to me. This is the first year of my life I have ever been treated like a human, and it was by the people society had deemed misfits. I had a great year; I made friends and built connections to people. And then my friends left me, and my favorite teacher was fired simply for being a first year. My other teacher left the school year early for maternity leave, and, guess what, was replaced by a long term substitute. I don't think I've ever panicked as hard as I did in those months. Similar timing, same school subject, similar classroom. All of the stressors were right and I nearly fell apart at the seams. I had more frequent and severe migraines and anxiety attacks. My hands would shake in fear so hard I couldn't write, which was bad because the classes I had with that teacher were exclusively note taking and online courses. This substitute wasn't a bad person. He was competent and polite and was always helpful, but my mental illnesses and brain blocks caused me to lose the opportunity to work with them successfully. In the last trimester I tried to kill myself three times, and I accidentally overdosed on drugs about 14 times over the whole year. I almost died a lot by my own doing and it was horrible.

Children need stability to survive and develop normally and I had been deprived of both, as well as emotional stability and positive reinforcement.

Now, during these times I had coping methods. I draw and write professionally to distract myself from the physical pain in my being if not just stress plain and simple. I watched documentaries and studied nearly every subject during my sleepless nights. My coping method was learning, practicing, evolving, and then teaching. My IQ had beat the range of average and I've had a reading level ranked at post college since I was in middle school. And this fall I'm a senior and I've only been ranked higher and higher each year. I've always gotten extra credit on every individual assignment and I've always been too of my class. My teachers love my art, and I had exceeded my professional art teacher within weeks of knowing her. I see, I practice, I perfect, I personalize every trait and skill I want and find intriguing. I study and develop to keep myself from remembering the agony I'm in.

I have a really wide and extensive knowledge on almost every subject and culture I've come across from, because being awake and learning for days on end beats being awake and in agony for days on end.

Along with my severe insomnia, it becomes apparent that I've seen more sunrises than the amount of years most adults have been alive. My walks under the starlight and the moon at odd hours? Amazing. Laying in a field at night and listening to all the little creatures and the coyotes howling in the distance? Perfect. Stargazing in my driveway on a clear night in the winter? Cold to my bones but I'd never trade the memory. Walking home in the rain at 11 a.m.? It's made me wiser. Taking a moment to breathe in and feel nature has sometimes saved me.

My bones definitely creak; mostly because I have juvenile arthritis, but I also feel ancient in my mind.

The wear and tear my body has faced for such a physically young being is unnatural. I can't describe the strange feelings of almost bleeding to death or stomach ulcers brought on by stress.

Those weird feelings of my bones cracking wrong or my knees suddenly giving out.

I've seen more of the Galaxy from here on earth than most adults have ever seen in a poster.

The meteor showers, the shooting stars, the solar flares, the cycles of the moon, the constellations? They accompany me on my walk down to my death.

Even better, looking up daily to love the clouds. I've seen amazing things and infinite days in mere minutes.

The feeling of cool streams and powerful rivers. Almost drowning in the ocean on multiple occasions, feeling the rain on my face. Those are the most powerful moments I've ever experienced.

Hearing the cry of infantile wildlife and mothering it feels like an old friend of mine. I cannot emphasize on how many creatures I've fostered back to health.

I've seen life and I've seen death, and quite too much of it for my age. The wars, the shootings, the stabbings and car accidents. People hanging themselves and people who die clear well before their body does. The births i e witnessed, the blooming of Meadows, the appearance of the new foxes.

Aiding things that normally need help and defending those who have lost their shields. Befriending things considered monsters. Providing a moment of peace for animals searching for the bridge of mortality.

The comfort I bring to people, the therapy I provide from listening and accepting, it was never something I had received myself.

My therapist diagnosed me a sociopath path as an ignorant response to seeing my lack of attachment to people. Technically she's not wrong, I'm a mild sociopath.

And before anyone gets weirded out, sociopaths do have feelings. They are simply harder to reach and read by strangers or common uninvolved people. Psychopaths pretend to care when they don't really. They are violent and unpredictable. Do not confuse us, do your research.

My English teacher this year had made a remark about me being an old soul, and oh, how right she was. I am ancient and people notice.

Life has been forever as I have been forever. My heart is still there, just ground to a fine sand and stored somewhere safer.

I'm tired, of course from my worrying for the human race and how much trouble people are creating these days. The people, they see me and tell me to smile, yet I have nothing to smile for.

My pain killers are border line overdose and all they do is make me a little dizzy. The last time I had pain relief was five years ago in a hospital. I had been in so much pain I hadn't slept in 17 days and they out me on morphine. I was only 12 years old and it was then it had become apparent I'd never be able to truly rest.

Somehow, I rest anyways. I find peace somewhere. Maybe in my hallucinations, maybe in my dreaming and dissociating, maybe in the way the trees speak. Listen to them, the trees, they can tell you more than a life time of science and precision.

I exist, not to overpower someone else's suffering, but instead to offer safety and support. I share so much to emphasize how much I understand. I'm not here as competition to see who can suffer more, but instead I am here to offer a helping hand to keep other people out of the pit of depression I often find myself in.

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mareebrittenford · 6 years

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The Extra Fakes- Shadow Mirrors Chapter 3

The story so far... Lyse is drawn to the charming old house over on Orangethorpe, but when she tries to point it out to others, it’s like they can’t even see it. Only her two closest friends, Georgia and Lionel seem to be able to see it too. Them and David, the weird chess nerd turned distance runner. But he’s loaded up with his own issues.

Lyse is just about convinced it’s an elaborate prank, when her little sister momentarily disapears right in front of the place.

Here’s links to the previous chapters 1, 2

Please let me know what you think, I love feedback!

I sleep like crap Friday night, stressing about that weird moment when Melody seemed to cease to exist.

Maybe I should have come straight home and told my parents about it, but what would I have said? Besides, I can't seem to trust anyone or any thing.

So instead I tried to sleep on it. When that didn't work out I decided to try my next best option for clearing my head. Running.

I decide to hit the river trail.

The river trail is not nearly as nice as it sounds. There are nice parts, the coves is a pretty little stretch, but this is the Santa Ana River, and long ago the banks were reinforced with concrete, so it looks more like a drainage culvert than a river. Since its dry right now it looks like a massive culvert with sand at the bottom. It's dry most of the time, and you can't imagine it ever filling up, until the winter rains come and turns into a raging torrent overnight.

If you head north eventually you'll get to the wealthier areas where it's lined with trees and moderately pretty. But here in Anaheim it's a big ditch paralleled with seepage pools, and a few hardy trees set back behind the trail. At this time of year the trail is hard packed dirt, dry and dusty, and not at all scenic. But you can run for miles without a traffic light, or worrying about cars.

I never go south, there's a huge homeless encampment right before Angel Stadium that my parents made me promise to stay away from. Me running on the river trail makes my parents nervous in general. But today, on a Saturday in the bright early morning there's plenty of runners and bikers out along both sides of the river. It's perfectly safe.

I'm not surprised when someone draws along side me, although I should be. He's been avoiding me for weeks, but now when I desperately need to talk to someone who maybe gets why I'm so scared he just appears, like I summoned him to me. And I expected him to.

"Hey," David says.

Of course I did come out here looking for him. He told me he likes running the river trail in the early morning. So it's not like he magically appeared. Perhaps outside of school, away from the pressure of that environment he can relax. Maybe he's ready to give me some answers. I should've tried this ages ago.

"Hey," I reply.

And that is literally all the conversation we have. I can't seem to figure out what to ask, and he's as avoidant as always.

When I reach my turn about spot I half expect him to go on further, but he sticks with me, all the way back to the gate onto the street near my house.

Okay, I want to talk to him, but he's not a puppy that I'm going to let follow me home. Even though he does know where I live (thanks Lionel!) that doesn't mean I'm fine with him following me back there. As much as I want answers he still makes me nervous.

So I stop under a shady tree and take off my sunglasses, waiting for him to look at me. He does, with reluctance, taking off his cap. His eyes are just as magnetic as I remembered. Brown, I note. They're brown. Probably why I couldn't remember the color before. I kept trying to imagine deep blue or exotic green. Now I know why I couldn't make it fit. I can't define what's so special about his eyes, but I find I have to force myself to look away.

"Why do you hide your eyes? They're beautiful." Not quite the opener I intended.

He hunches his shoulders. "Most people say creepy. I'd rather not freak people out when they look at me." That's weird, but not my concern right now.

"So, are you okay? We were worried about you." After you freaked out and ran off, I don't add.

"I'm okay. I mean, I get it. You had to test me, right?"

"Test you?" I want to be incredulous, but wasn't that sort of what I was doing? "I wasn't testing you."

He backs up looking nervous, and I hold my hands out, trying to look nonthreatening.

"Okay, I wasn't testing you, but maybe I was testing something. That house..."

He frowns. "What is that place?"

"I don't know!" That's what's scaring me.

"Okay, then easier question. What are you? You and Lionel. Are you, are you guys like me?"

His special eyes are lit with such hope. I don't want to disappoint him, but-

"Like you? Like you how? Do you mean your anxiety stuff?" What do I call it. Anxiety issues? Problems?

"No. Never mind. I thought something dumb." He looks away, breaking the connection.

I reach out to him, slowly, mindful of how he panicked when Lionel touched him, but even though he flinches a little when I touch his arm, he doesn't run.

"Are you okay? Seriously?"

To my horror he bursts into tears.

He sits down on the curb and puts his head in his hands. "Am I okay? Is it okay when your whole life is gone to hell and the people you thought were your friends don't want anything to do with you, and you don't really blame them, because you've become a monster."

Crap.

All I want is some answers and instead I've got a 16 year old guy crying his eyes out right in front of me.

I so don't want to deal with this.

I sit down beside him anyway and awkwardly pat his shoulder.

"You're not a monster. Lots of people have mental health issues."

He laughs, that sort of sob laugh that people do when they're crying and laughing at the same time.

I press on anyway. "You know you can ask for help if you need it. I'm not judging you."

He's quiet for a few moments.

"You really don't know what I am, do you?"

"Dude, unless you're going around hurting people you're not a monster. I know that."

"How about freak? Does that fit me better?"

What happened to this guy? He said that he had these panic attacks because he went through something. What happened to him that makes him think he's a monster? I don't ask, what if asking makes him cry again? I don't want him to cry more. That was hella embarrassing.

"You're not a monster, or a freak."

"You don't know what I am."

"I know my instincts, and I trust what they're telling me." And I do. Somewhere in the last few minutes I've realized that the nervous edgy feeling I'm getting is because he's radiating it. I feel anxious for him, not because of him.

Amazingly that seems to calm him down, and he tilts his head, studying me, like he's been doing at school. Like he's trying to figure me out.

"How good are your instincts?"

The question feel oddly loaded. He's not asking casually, this is important. So instead of the flippant way I normally would deal with a question like that I answer seriously.

"I always know what people want. And you, you're a harder read than most, but you don't want to hurt anyone. You're just-- really scared."

And there's something else. Something I'm not sure how to express. It's why I had such a hard time reading him.

"Please," I ask. "I just want to know what's going on. I'm scared too. You know something about this weird stuff that's happening. Help. Please?"

He gives me a look, straight on with those eyes, I'm suddenly aware of my heart thumping in my chest, the swish of my blood, the thrum of my muscles, tired from the run, as if my body is a machine and I am aware of each part.

"I have to go," he says, and before I can say another word he's on his feet, face hidden beneath his cap, and leaving.

I clench my teeth in frustration as I watch him lope away.

I curse Lionel for asking me to help with his exciting new recruit. Does he even know what kind of mess he's handed me? Because from where I sit this whole mess seems to have started with David.

I stand by my belief that he doesn't want to hurt me, but he's set something in motion, something strange and frightening.

And I'm afraid that neither of us can stop it now.

I can't stay focused on my day after that. I go through the usual, chores at home, some homework, I meet up with Georgia and Alexis for lunch.

Alexis is Lionel's older sister, but she's a grade ahead of us in school, and we never seem to see her much anymore, so it should be nice to spend some time with her.

Instead all I do is wonder what she'd see if I put her in front of the fairy house.

Luckily the two of them chat on together and so I eat my hamburger and say no to going over to Alexis' place to hang out. Although Lionel would probably be around I don't feel up to coping with their loud busy household.

It's a relief to get home and find that my family has gone out, and I have the place to myself.

But hours of silence don't deliver any answers. Either there is something extremely weird about that place, or everyone I know is delivering up a massive prank. And I can't truly believe either. And now I have to weigh David and his cryptic comments in on the issue.

I start to type in an internet search, although what search terms should I use? I can't explain this in a few specific words.

Googling invisible, and only visible to some, and other related types of terms lead, predictably, to lots of stories about ghosts, stuff about science fiction, and finally some interesting articles about real science. How some people can literally see more colors because of an extra cone thing in their eyes.

That's cool, but hardly seems to explain what's happening to me. It's not like we're arguing about the line between pink and purple.

Besides, if it was some sort of genetic mutation (which, really? That makes a whole building seem to be another different building?) wouldn't my own sister be the person most likely to share that? Instead of my two best friends, with our fairly divergent gene pools, and some random other white guy who just conveniently showed up when this all started.

There's one page I read about how in fiction if a person can see the monsters that makes them one too. And I pause.

David seemed certain he was a monster. Is there something spooky and supernatural going on? If David is a monster, then what does that make me? I mean if I'm going to believe that I can see things that other people can't, then that is, strangely, the most logical conclusion.

It all seems so crazy. But I can't unthink it. My sister disappeared right in front of my eyes. A a place where I seem to be able to see things most other people can't.

David claimed straight up to be a monster. And he was asking if I was like him.

I need to make that guy talk to me.

I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling for a while.

Should I text Lionel and ask him for David's number and deal with the inevitable teasing? Or should I call Georgia and get her help to try to talk this out?

My phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number.

-Hey, it's David

-I got your number off Lionel, hope that's okay.

I stare at my phone for a moment. I summoned him again. It sounds crazy but today I feel like I could believe anything.

C- Can you read my mind?

I follow it up with an emoji, to show I'm not serious. Can’t be having him think I’m totally crazy.

D- No. At least I don't think so.

D- I just assumed you'd want to talk to me.

D- Should I be able to?

Well, this can't get any weirder.

C- I don't know how what anyone should be able to do anymore.

D- are you okay?

C- No.

D- I'm sorry about before. We can talk if you want.

C- Yes!

C- Can we meet?

By the time I get there I'm seriously regretting my decision to go over to his house, hurrying along in the orange light of the sunset. David assured me that his mother will be at home, and he didn't act like it was a stupid question. He knows that he makes me uneasy. It's why I didn't tell him to come to me, because somehow inviting him into my space feels too invasive. It's stupid, stupid, I'm trusting him with my secrets, but not my safety?

I'm hanging onto my confidence from earlier, that he doesn't want to hurt me, that what he wants from me is a friend.

It doesn't help when I realize that his house is a large, creepy Victorian, looming 3 stories high and painted dark shades of green and plum that seem to fade around the edges into the dusk.

It's in one of those strange little pockets of history that you get around here. Four fabulous heritage listed houses sit in a row, complete with vintage lamp posts and permit only parking, and right across the street there's crowded rows of shabby apartments. Not a good neighborhood. Not one I feel safe walking in after dark. How am I going to get home? So yeah, to sum up, I'm going out at night, to a rough neighborhood, into a creepy Victorian mansion, to hang out with a guy who believes he's a monster, and we're going to talk about the supernaturalish stuff that's been happening. Absolutely nothing about that can go wrong, right?

I stop and text Georgia and after I think for a second I text my mom too, telling her I'm working on something for school with David. She responds immediately, telling me it's getting late and to message her when I'm ready to come home and she'll pick me up.

The mundane conversation breaks the weird anything can happen type sense I've been building up for the last twenty four hours.

But then I turn back to David's creepy house. There's no easy access to the front door. I mean, there's a wrought iron fence with a gate, but there's also a huge black dog, some sort of boxer crossed with a bear by the looks of it, lounging on the front porch.

So I stand there and text David to come let me in. Some men cat call me from across the street, I'm many generations Californian, so despite the color of my skin I don't really speak Spanish, but I still know what those words mean. I try not to cringe, and regret not changing into something less revealing, although my shorts are hardly skimpy.

"Hurry up jerk," I mutter, resentful of David for not being here to let me in.

He appears in front of me suddenly.

"Hey, why didn't you just come on in? The gate's not locked."

I point to the dog, still lounging on the porch.

"He's fine, he won't bother you."

In fact, as we walk up the front steps the dog whines and backs away, it's eyes fixed on David.

"Your dog is afraid of you?" That seems bad.

"Yeah. Just another sucky development in my life. Come on. My mother is dying to meet you."

He opens the door and gestures ahead of him. I know he's just being polite, but somehow it feels like the point of no return. But who am I kidding? I'm not walking away from this. I need to know what the hell is going on.

To my relief his mother is hovering in the living room, just as promised. She's the most elegant, beautiful woman I think I've ever seen in real life. Her shiny dark hair is highlighted with deep red undertones and is beautifully styled, laying in artful curls and waves, and her makeup is impeccable. I feel shabby and sweaty, thoughtlessly dressed in a pair of jean shorts and tank top plus one of my vintage finds, a wool openwork top that I've repaired the moth holes in. I thought I did a good job of it, but I'm sure someone as fancy as this can tell.

But I feel no judgment. She seems truly thrilled to meet me, telling me to please call her Meredith. She takes us back to the kitchen and offering me a snack, a meal, whatever I want.

I accept a bottle of water, giving David a wary look. He shrugs and hunches his shoulders.

"No hats on indoors, you know that dear," his mom scolds, tapping him on the head.

He reluctantly removes his cap, fidgeting with it like he's just waiting for the moment he can put it back on.

It seems that his parents are going out for the evening (something I should've realized when I saw how nice his mom looked) and I shoot David a deadly glance.

"How are you going to get home dear? I don't want a young girl like you wandering around after dark." She looks back over at David. "Perhaps you can get your brother to drive her home?"

David frowns. "I'll walk her home."

At the same time I say "My mom is going to pick me up."

David smirks at me and then hunches back up.

Meredith frowns at that, wrinkles marring her smooth forehead. "Oh I suppose that's all right. We won't be leaving for another thirty minutes anyway, so if you're done before then we can drop you off."

David’s eyes flick to me. "We might hang out for a bit longer, so..."

And his mother smiles indulgently. Is this what it's like being a boy? You can have random girls over when your parents aren't home and your mom just smiles?

She pats me on the head and tells me how lovely it is to meet me and how she hopes to see me again soon.

I follow David upstairs to his room. I feel like I'm following a bear into a cave. I might be exaggerating the gothicness of all of it. I don't feel threatened by David, and at any time I can call my mom to come and pick me up. I'm not trapped. But it's all so weird.

We pass a door in the hallway with music vibrating out around the seams.

"My brother," David says, waving a hand toward the music emanating door. "He's not going to surface any time soon, don't worry."

Why should I be worried about seeing his brother?

"Why was your mom so excited to see me? Don't you have other friends? You better not have told her we're dating."

"No, no, it's just-- part of what is going on with me. My friends aren't around much any more. She's just been worried about me."

His room is kind of a mess. The normal kind of mess. It looks like he picked up a bit before I came over, if the overflowing laundry hamper in the corner is any indication. But it's a comfortable, lived in sort of mess. It's not the mathematical perfection of Lionel's room, nor the regimented chaos Georgia lives in.

"This is nice," I say, looking around. The room is more of a suite actually. It's two fairly big rooms with a wide arch in the wall between them. He's got a bedroom, and a sort of living room, with a couch and a couple of armchairs. There's a big flatscreen tv, a desk along one wall littered with books and papers. Everything is done in pale neutral colors, like something from a magazine, if it was all tidy. He's got several gaming systems laid out below the television, and I can see an attached bathroom through a half open door. Everything about the space looks expensive. I should've realized when I saw the house, but David is rich.

"I'd have started hanging out with you before if I knew you had this kind of set up," I say, running my hand across a throw blanket, plaid in shades of grey and cream. Is that wool? I pick it up and drape it around my shoulders, instantly feeling safer and more comfortable.

"Why are you going to school with us regular people, shouldn't you be going to some place that ends with 'Academy?'"

"Yeah, yeah. My parents don't believe in private schools." He slumps down into one of the armchairs, and I take the one opposite, relieved that we're not going to be hanging out in his bedroom, even though the textiles on that bed look extremely desirable.

"So, ah, sorry about this morning. I'm really not usually so dramatic."

I laugh. "Really? Because from where I sit, you're just one dramatic moment after another."

He scowls and slouches down even lower. "Okay, fair," he mutters, tugging his cap down onto his head.

He really does seem to prefer to remain invisible.

"Whatever happened to you must have been rough, for you to be having so much trouble dealing with it."

"Yeah." But he doesn't volunteer any more.

I study him. Perhaps invisible is the wrong word. Hidden. Seeking the shadows, even here in his own space. He looks almost relaxed, but it's relaxed like a cat lounging, ready to run or fight at the slightest provocation.

He's a human fight or flight response. Does he ever truly drop his guard?

He's also not talking.

Waiting. Waiting for me to set the tone of the conversation.

I take a deep breath.

"Look. Something weird is going on, and I don't understand it. But I think you do. Help me. Please. This is all scaring me."

"I don't know anything about that freaky house."

"but you know something," I persist. "You thought we were causing it or testing you or whatever."

"I know what happened to me. That's it."

"And?"

He squirms. "I don't know if you really want to hear about that."

I don't know if I want to either."If you don't want to tell me then fine. But I thought that was why you had me come over. I thought you wanted to tell me about it."

He stares for a moment. "Okay. I'm nervous I guess. That you'll run away, that you'll hate me?" He leaps up and goes to the french doors, opening them out onto a balcony,that runs along the back of the house overlooking the jungle like back yard. Not a lot of maintenance going on with that, or perhaps they like having a yard that looks like unkempt wilderness.

Heavy shadow are gathering beneath the trees.

"Let's go into the back yard."

"Do we have to? Can we at least take a flashlight?"

"Flashlight, good idea. I forget about that now."

He ducks around me and back into his room, returning in a moment with a heavy duty looking light. The kind that you take camping, and floats in water and all that good indestructible stuff. He hands it to me, and then swings himself easily over the railing, dropping down to the ground below. Because, oh, there's no stairs.

"Are you for real? I know you have actual stairs in this house. We just came up them. I could go use them. It'll take one minute longer."

"This is faster. And my mom won't see us. Come on. You'll be fine, you're an athlete. Just toss me down the light first."

And despite never having done a thing like this before, I find that it is easy. I grab the railing and swing my legs over like David did, and then lower myself down to the ground.

"See? Easy."

"Why do we have to talk outside anyway?"

"So I don't freak out. Sorry. It's the enclosed spaces thing. Come on." He slips silently into the shadows.

Am I really doing this? Am I following this boy, who I know so little about, who makes me uneasy, into the dark? I seem to recall promising myself not to do this exact thing. But that was before.

He's not going to hurt me. I met his mother ten minutes ago, and despite how strange and remote this place feels there is a busy crowded apartment complex across the street. If I stop and listen I can hear cars and voices. Surely if I scream someone will come for me. Besides. I trust my instincts. And my instincts say he needs my help more than I need his.

David has disappeared anyway. I turn on the flashlight and pan it across the bushes, and I almost jump out of my skin when I see the flash of golden eyes. I swing the light back quickly, my heart pounding, but it's just David, standing patiently, waiting for me.

"Jeez you scared me. I thought for a second that I saw some sort of animal."

He's finally lost the cap, and he's staring at me with those odd eyes of his.

"Yeah, well not too far wrong."

"Well? Are you going to tell me something? Because I'd rather not get eaten alive by mosquitoes if it's all the same to you."

Bugs like mosquitoes aren't something that we normally have a problem with around here, the area being more desert than anything, but I'm sure that this lush yard has lots of places for them to breed. My skin itches in anticipation.

"I'm just trying to decide if I should just show you, or try to explain things first."

"Just show me. Unless it's the graves of your previous victims or something. In that case, I'm really hoping your mother isn't in on it with you."

He grins, and unease ripples down my back.

"No previous victims."

But then he's jiggling on his toes looking as unthreatening as can be.

"Okay, just, promise me that you'll wait, and let me explain, after. Okay?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing that will hurt you. I promise. I'm not even going to touch you. But, I think it's going to scare you a bit. I'm going to do something to myself. I'll try to change back right away, but sometimes it's really hard, so be patient, okay?"

Why did I get myself into this?

"I ah, I need to take off my clothes first," he says, and and promptly pulls his tee-shirt over his head, and then kicks off his All Stars and starts unbuttoning his jeans.

I yelp and turn my back on him to give him privacy for whatever the hell he thinks he's doing. But somehow this had gone from intimidating to comedic.

"You can turn back, I'm keeping my shorts on, I think that should be okay."

I grudgingly turn back, and seriously. I cannot feel threatened by this guy standing there looking so pale and skinny. He's not very tall, maybe 5'7" at the most, and while he's definitely got some muscle definition he's still skinny and pasty. He can't weigh more than 130 pounds. Not at all threatening.

And despite his near nudity, nothing about this says sexy either. He just looks anxious and embarrassed.

"Okay. Here goes. Don't freak out, okay?"

He closes his eyes and takes a few slow deep breaths, like he's centering himself.

And then, and then he starts to change.

Yay cliffhanger ending. I’m sure no one at all can guess what David is lol.

If you’ve made it this far thanks for reading, As always I appreciate any support for my writing, so please check out my novels #1, #2, patreon and ko-fi!

Links to the previous chapters 1, 2

tagging @pinehutch @focusdumbass @timeenoughforamasterpiece @maximillianvalentine @q-oetry @rosy-writes @sunsetsrmydreams @goddessofnothingatall

As always if you’d like to be added or removed from this list please shoot me a message or comment on this post!

#the extra fakes #wip boost #shadow mirrors #urban fantasy

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atlanticcanada · 3 years

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'I do not believe that we’ll ever return to a pre-COVID normal': N.S. enters penultimate stage of reopening

Nova Scotia officially entered the fourth phase of a five-phase reopening plan Wednesday, meaning restaurants and bars can now return to their regular hours and retail stores are able to operate at maximum capacity with public health measures in place.

"In this phase of our recovery we're more open and have fewer restrictions,” said Nova Scotia Premier Iain Rankin. “You've earned the right to larger gatherings, later hours and a lot more activity but this doesn't mean we're out of the woods yet."

Philip Holmans, owner of World Tea House in downtown Halifax, is excited to see the province roll into Phase 4 of the reopening plan.

"We're kind of used to rough times on Argyle Street with the past 11 years that we've been here, but the pandemic definitely put a new chapter in my survival story,” said Holmans.

For more than a year, Holmans operated the World Tea House on his own amid the pandemic.

"I did it solo for a long time, which is hard because with a small business you're juggling a lot of hats,” said Holmans.

“I'm an importer as well. I'm importing, working the counter, I'm stalking, I'm home delivering, I do everything myself, so long days, but you do what you got to do."

Phase 4 will also see restrictions ease at long-term care homes across the province.

"Fully vaccinated residents are now permitted full community access,” said Janet Simm, CEO of Northwood.

“Fully vaccinated residents can now enjoy visits in the home, including overnight stays.

All residents can leave the facility to visit indoor and outdoor public places like parks and stores and restaurants. Residents may travel on public transit, including places where residents could come into contact with the general public."

Indoor visits can resume in a resident’s room at long-term care facilities. That includes fully vaccinated, partially vaccinated and non-vaccinated residents.

It's welcome news after a challenging year.

"It has been very difficult for our older Atlantic Canadians to be shuttered away in long-term care homes,” said Bill VanGorder, with the Canadian Association of Retired Persons.

“Not only because they missed the socialization, which did cause all kinds of mental health problems that unfortunately we know that will be continuing, but also because often, it was the loved ones who gave that extra care that the staff in these long term care facilities were not able to give.”

Also as part of Phase 4, Casino Nova Scotia in Halifax and Sydney can now operate at maximum capacity with public health measures like social distancing and masks. They can also return to regular hours of operation as per their licensing.

Festivals, special events, and arts and culture events can now operate at 50 per cent of the venue’s capacity (up to 150 people indoors and up to 250 people outdoors) with social distancing and mask requirements.

Informal social gatherings can now have up to 25 people indoors and up to 50 people outdoors without social distancing and masks.

The fifth and final phase of Nova Scotia’s reopening plan is expected to start when 75 per cent of the province’s population is fully vaccinated with two doses of vaccine.

“While I do not believe that we’ll ever return to a pre-COVID normal, I do think that there will be a new normal that will see us living more freely and openly with COVID-19,” said Dr. Robert Strang, the province’s Chief Medical Officer of Health.

"Eventually, we will approach COVID much like Influenza and other respiratory viruses. The lessons the world has learned from COVID will forever change however the way we manage and respond to all respiratory viruses."

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/3ies2Wu

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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crackcrocs · 3 years

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DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #2

2.Disconnected/ Dissociation/ Depersonalisation / Darkness

Most days I'm not sure that I would choose to look after me... I would like to give up and scream.

consistent healing with mental health is the most frustrating thing. like how do you justify yourself to the people getting annoyed at you for your tics when you barely even know what a tic is and why you’re doing what you’re doing? people never believe your explanations, or it would take them studying you to see the reality of the depth of suffering, why I’m doing these annoying things and it is hard to explain. I can’t say that I can’t control it because that’s not completely true- it’s not like a muscle spasm completely out of control, its more of an impulse a bit like OCD behaviour. My brain follows mental patterns n finds it difficult to not get out of the cycle. its like scratching at a mosquito bite where yeah technically you can just not scratch it but it feels agonising not to and takes all your concentration not to do.

I’ve been more uncomfortable with the idea of being a person lately. i can’t conceptualise time so I get this feeling sometimes where its like , I hate the fact that I’m a person and I exist and it usually makes me super confused & I go into a misty state of mind where everything feels like it’s piling up leaving me anxious n too deep & I just feel too disconnected from everything. I feel lost when I look at my limbs; they grow heavier.

I personally try to spend as little time looking in the mirror as possible because it can be a big trigger for my dissociation. but taking pictures of my day/ what I’ve eaten helps me remember i have been present in the long run. This is why I have a complex relationship with social media, sometimes when I go on it I get depressed even though I want to be active. I cope by only looking in the mirror with other people there or when I have a specific reason to. It’s like I know my soul but my physical form confuses me.

I don’t even tell my friends I’m dissociating any more cause it’s just,, a given. I feel really embarrassingly bad. It’s one of the few things with my mental health that I try and minimise and hide from my friends- but I end up hiding myself as a whole, when my soul wants to be present but my body doesn’t know how to comply. I’m really sorry people have to deal with that, it’s so scary to be disconnected.

it’s annoying to have sucky mental health cos even when I want to get help I get embarrassed & feel ashamed that my brain is the way it is. I feel like a burden, or I don’t care enough about myself to believe I deserve help & to be healthy & mentally okay. I often realise the depth of self hate & my brain tells me I’d be better off dead.

I feel forced to engage in ‘the caste system of life’ . As humans were just expected to ‘keep calm and carry on’ but I’m genuinely tired. I can’t grasp that I ever used to work 2 jobs in a day at one point, I can’t grasp how. I feel an immense amount of distress about having to work in these times too, it’s like finally my mental is free to roam to whichever corner it deserves to feel peace without having to mask at all times, finally I get some extra time to organise my journals and paint & we’re actually still being made to feel obligated to go about our days as if everything is normal, while being tuned into a fear frequency. I feel like so many things are obfuscated with absolute lies & it’s hard to go on just because you have to but not cos you actually desire it.

I’m a great worker & communicator when I do have the energy, but I don’t have any dream job because I don’t dream to slave away to a capitalist system that perpetuates all kind of nonsense, i dream to dismantle it. Which I know I can’t do, so then I feel powerless, insignificant & small. for now I just can’t be arsed doing anything. maybe deep down I still have hope.

I’ve become more pessimistic that optimistic,I receive these death threats from my brain too In really dumb moments, & I’m like oh my gosh we have to just keep washing dishes & putting them away & putting more food in them & doing this over & over until we die.

I am someone that needs people but I have these silly built in coping mechanism. it’s like this character in my brain needs to hop to the recharge centre,it often wants to hide in my mental cavern of preservation because it feels like it’s disconnected from everything else. like how is everyone holding up jobs or education ? how will I be able to have all these good times & spoil my family & friends like I want to, if I can’t hold up a job ? why can’t my head not be such a bloody mess & why can’t I seem to conform to normality ??? My brain starts asking the questions, my brain starts caving away.

Even a long time ago my brain stopped planning for a future past 30 because of my individual situation & traumas, and mainly because the world is a horrible illusion once you grow & realise how truly powerless & insignificant it makes you feel. dissociation turns my memories into flat, unconvincing shadows.

thankfully I haven’t gave up & I’m still here with a bit more of a desire to go on- but only because of the inspiring creative loving caring people that surround me. over the years I’ve come across marvellous souls & I have the most beautiful family I could ever ask for. i would never want to seem ungrateful. I know the whole saying of ‘silence speaks volumes’ but as someone who’s always felt like they need to explain themselves for their entire life, I’ve learned that sometimes silence is necessary, to be able to fully be yourself & uplift the people in your life, you need to learn how to be comfortable & confident with your own self. I’m washing away my Shame and painting my shell shiny y’all!!!! Soon come you’ll see the armour I’ve been working on in the flesh.

My silences are not done in a sense of ‘I need to work on me only & FIRST, THEN I can worry about you’ but a ‘I’ve never put myself first & ALSO need to worry about me the way I worry about you I want all of us to eat together, I just don’t wanna be that friend that feels like they’re holding people back from doing things because I’m on pause. and of course there’s the fact that compromise is necessary to make friendships work, I want to make time & be present.

I don’t feel obligated(I genuinely do want to be there) but in my head for things to run smoothly for everyone’s sake there needs to be consistency(I don’t wanna lose the people I love & want to grow with them) but someone said to me consistency is just obligation sprinkled. and sometimes it just be like that, I hate how all my messages start with ‘so sorry for these late replies’ I hate it. the people pleaser always feels the need to explain but i feel bad because I feel like I’ve let them down already & that I didn’t intend or want to ignore them I just have a terrible relationship with my phone,social media & I’m one of the worst communicators I know, even though In person & in a comfortable atmosphere-I’m someone who can speak for the whole of both Scotland and Tanzania. I have a very all or nothing type brain.

most time I’m restless too and its like..i get hyper aware of all my surroundings and its really scary and emotional for a little bit but then i just start dissociating hella and it sucks ,, it’s become a normal state of mind or thing my brain does to sort of reject humanity and stuff & when I do ‘zone out’ there has to be a sense of awareness in my brain, I care a lot & I’m aware that those on the other side will feel left the dark from the other end.

I just get embarrassed n I don’t wanna ‘be the fuck up’ even though my brain actively just keeps doing it. I’m not even exaggerating sometimes the anxiety builds up because some eedyat from my past that I wanted to avoid messages me. or because I can’t reply to all my people at once. (I have people & connects from Tanzania, Turkey & Scotland) so my messages will pile up & then I don’t know how to start the replies & then I freak out & feel like a failed shitty friend, I also don’t wanna be selective because I WANT to speak & hear from everyone I do maintain contact with, but then my brain dissociates.

sexual abuse, physical & narcissistic abuse sucks. It doesn’t control me - but it’s shaped a part of my brain. for the time’s I’ve had to ‘cope’ & go to work as if everything is okay, further masking. the times as a kid I felt like I’d get punishment or a beating for answering back or doing something or being disobedient or ‘wrong’, it fuelled my ability at being able to mask more. I could lie for as long as I could so remember thanks to pedo paul- he also distorted & lured me into feeling easy & comfortable in highly alarming uncomfortable scenarios no child should ever have to experience.

being myself fully, feeling comfortable to be myself & explain my brain has never been easy.

another example that also made me be able to mask, is growing up in a ‘perfect’ looking family with much more dysfunction than I realised the older I aged. there isn’t necessarily a lack of connection in my family-we have a lot of love & togetherness, we know how to be a team. we’re a fast & fierce intelligent,compassionate bunch & I’m thankful enough to have 2 very understanding parents that will listen..I could’ve spoken to them about certain things earlier, I wish I did but I can’t go back. I forgive & hope they forgive me for there were still years where I felt judged, or like I’d be disowned.

I think it’s invalidating for parents to write off the so called ‘teen phase’ phase as the result of hormones and irrational teenage anger.

We now have more of a relationship yet there’s still that disconnect or connect only when I’m communicating with one of them at a time (depending on the subject matter/ setting).i can still chill with them both but sometimes chat feels forced. they have given me the reassurance that I’ll never be judged with what I share. Though at one point I felt (or in my head) like the downer child, they did project feelings of shame which I think stemmed from a ‘place of concern’ - and that was due to a lack of familial friendship. Both my parents were made to be parents & did a damn good job at raising us because despite the flaws. we remain tough, empathetic, polite,sensible, witty, charming, fun, respectable & decent which are all qualities from both of their seed.

I think they both deserved different loves or a more open one. because you see it sometimes felt they could’ve put their parent badge aside and talk to me like a friend, I’m not sure if all my siblings felt the same but I did. I’m also thankful for all the lessons & can’t discount my parents parenting, they are great. I’m not saying they failed, I just think that if you want your child to communicate with you, there needs to be a sense of comfort ability for them to be able to open up. If you force them to speak while you’ve ingrained fear, you end up pushing them further away. I guess to an extent the whole ‘ingrain’ fear into your child so they can respect you does work, but this creates sneakier children too- finding ways to get away with things because they’re worried you’ll get them in trouble for doing so. so if the communication lessens as the child grows, it’s because they didn’t feel understood, despite being listened to. Anyways I love my family still, I’m just an over thinker & sometimes I feel like there’s a lack of soul level conversation & genuine laughter. there’s grudges held but not expressed so then the atmosphere of the household begins to feel stuffy. whether or not everyone realises it, whether it’s because different personality types clash in the house, a bunch of reasons perhaps. But yeah in terms of dissociating & tying masking into it, it would happen whenever I felt in danger or like someone would think i was not good enough and hurt me.

sometimes I can be dry & just wanna listen to my peoples. but I feel like I always need to talk because of my people pleaser brain that also feels the need to fill in silences or feels rude when it doesn’t respond but the reality is sometimes my brain doesn’t allow me to be able to be consistent with social media, messaging, calls etc- I have a disconnect from social media even tho part of me loves the concept so much & the communication aspect is such a bonus (especially with international friends & family£ in turn my life feels like a dramatic podcast. for a while now there’s been more a mentally tired feeling that reigns over my brain, it all just gets a bit blurry so I have this habit of ‘checking out’ when I feel like I’m under stress & there’s a chance of more overloaded- it sort of makes my brain disengage even more. for some people reality checks help, for others they make things worse. personally when I don’t feel good enough I start convincing myself I already failed & that I’m not worthy of my family n friends & all that yap, the brain mould grows!! whenever stress arises or my awkward brain starts conspiring against itself- the zone out will begin.

I don't even realise the weight of my words, how serious and ugly it is. I am floating around. for years. I don't remember what feeling real is like. I feel like everything is fake and even though I matter I’m unimportant until I wear my skin of confidence & the that life is a game. I want to be able to feel like a normal person and believe myself, to believe that life isn’t a dream. I can't. I am just floating all the time. I just want to feel real for once and not so fake.

I do use listening to music or a podcast as a coping strategy so i have something engaging for my brain to focus on. music grounds me when de realisation gets really bad. but then there’s always knowing that more and more is just piling up. It’s like an outer body experience where you’re watching your lifeless body turn blue & there’s a timer with spilling sand but you’re frozen.

I feel this pattern from childhood of escapism is gash coming into adulthood, feeling everything so intensely can genuinely get overwhelming my heart feels like a racing car. I’m keen & determined though. I’m hopefully going to learn more about the brain, human impulses, how we think, because learning about humans helps me understand why I do things more, and that sort of seems to help. I wanna be strong enough for the people I love, I want to support them in tough times too I just don’t always have conversations- I’m sorry. being half there isn’t nice,neither fun.

I also keep thinking there’s some bigger /thing/ Reason for the universe, maybe waiting for the aliens or government to blow us up with the push of a button lol. I spend more time thinking about the afterlife but don’t do enough in my present one. most days I feel like life is a game boy. Is there a reason why everyone does what they do etc? Is society too dead to mend ? Remembering that it’s just the laws of the universe (human instinct, physics) controlling everything can help me. The master key system helps. Vsauce Thoughty2, Dr Phil Valentine and Brother Panic, Infinite waters,studying, art, music & generally scrolling through youtube helps lol. but I really wonder does anyone else feel like they are interacting with the world but their head is wrapped in plastic, so they can see and hear but are still totally but imperceptibly separated from the world, so they just can’t quite..connect?

#LCZABIBU #deathwillonlybethebeginning

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songofproserpine · 7 years

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Mass Effect, mental illness, and healing.

I’m replaying the Shepard trilogy, and this has been bouncing around my thoughts lately.

So in Mass Effect 2, Miranda says that part of The Lazarus Project was the very specific order of recreating Shepard exactly as they were, no exceptions. This includes their personality, their memories, etc. Ignoring questions like ‘how do you reconstruct someone’s mental structure, store it in a computer, and then transfer it to a mind you hope to make sentient,’ this leads me to the more interesting question of (1) does future technology and medical science in the Mass Effect universe have the ability to map brain chemistry to the point of knowing how one’s individual mind functions; and (2) what does this mean for mental illnesses?

While it’s highly unlikely that Shepard could have served if they had a serious mental illness prior to their service, it’s all but flat out said in the opening lines of Mass Effect 1 that Shepard has serious emotional scars. I.E., Shepard at the very least had a PTSD diagnosis depending on what military background you chose for them. And while PTSD is treatable through medication and therapy, it doesn’t seem to have barred Shepard from continuing their service in the Alliance. If anything, Shepard only advanced further, becoming the Normandy’s commander and eventual commanding officer once Anderson stepped down.

I will allow Bioware some dramatic license for this story, and Shepard is also constantly considered a person with “a remarkably strong will,” which means they can endure pain and hardships beyond what most would find tolerable. But just because someone has a “strong will” doesn’t mean they aren’t affected by pain and trauma--they could just keep it all inside and suffer quietly, which Shepard seems to do.

Much like a post I made about Fallout 4 and Nick Valentine’s human form (and how the pre-Institute MIT folks mapped out his brain prior to his death, and simply used that data to make synth Nick’s mind), what we have here is yet another case of someone being created (or resurrected) with a mental map that included mental illness... and that mental illness being programmed in. It wasn’t removed. It wasn’t treated as a flaw to eliminate. It was an integral part of that person’s mind and identity.

With Shepard, this is likely because of Miranda’s orders: Shepard had to be the exact same, no exceptions. But with Nick Valentine, I consider this especially brutal and unfair, because synth Nick wanted so very much to put human Nick’s memories and ghosts to rest. He wanted to build a life and live that life separate from the man he was built from. And this choice of his, while noble and fully valid, was made all the more difficult for him to do because of human Nick’s PTSD and survivor’s guilt being transferred over.

Make no mistake: I’m not saying The Lazarus Project should have eliminated any/all of Shepard’s lingering mental trauma, nor am I saying the Institute should have done something different (it’s very likely that they couldn’t, or just didn’t think it would matter). I myself have been diagnosed with PTSD--that’s why I’m so fascinated by the presence (or lack thereof) of mental illnesses in the video games I play, which are largely RPGs in scenarios where mental health and treatment are either nonexistent (Dragon Age, Elder Scrolls, Soulsborne), or very seldom remarked upon (Mass Effect, Fallout) unless it’s for a specific quest. What I am saying is that I wonder what this says to us who have mental illnesses, no matter what they are, and how we can use this narrative choice in video games as a way to change our perspective about these illnesses and the part they play in our identities?

My psychiatrist and I have weekly therapy sessions as part of my Dialectical Behavior Therapy. Very recently, we ended a session with a question that we’ll explore in later sessions: is it possible to practice acceptance and active healing at the same time? Acceptance in this scenario means acknowledging that while my situation and illnesses are not fair, that’s also what they are. I do not like that my life is so brutally sidetracked far too often by symptoms of my illnesses, or by the very existence of the illness itself. But that’s my life.

I wasted an entire decade of my life (all of my 20s) mourning and hating and being brutally ashamed that this was my lot in life, that it wasn’t fair, that I couldn’t be expected to endure all that my illnesses demanded of me on top of the normal things life asks of us all--but none of that thinking got me anywhere. It didn’t make me feel stronger, it didn’t encourage me, it didn’t offer answers or hope or anything useful in the slightest. If anything, it made me worse, to the point where my body was then literally wasting away and destroying itself because of my anxiety by the time I was 29. But I digress.

Back to the question and, eventually, Mass Effect and Commander Shepard. Acceptance of mental illnesses and living with them simply means you look your life square in the face and you accept it--you don’t judge it, you don’t question it, you don’t wonder how it could have been different. It’s not different. It’s your life--period. And it’s yours. That alone should make you want to cherish it. It might be hard, it might be frightening, it might be lonely and all other kinds of things--but it’s yours. No one else’s. And your life, and most especially your illnesses, needs your love.

We care for wounds without questioning why they dare hurt in the first place. We just tend to what hurts and wait until it heals. Why should we do any less to ourselves and our illnesses? That’s acceptance.

The second part--active healing--is trickier, and slower, and far more intricate a process than acceptance. It also requires you return to step one (acceptance) almost every single day. Or, if you’re like me, and have a mood disorder, every hour of every day, for the rest of your life--period. But all active healing really is, in the end, is looking at why acceptance was so hard for you and filling that in with love and care.

Active healing means you tend to your wounds. You get out of bed. You brush your teeth. You shower. You make food. You do chores. You go for a walk. You take your medication. You call your doctor if you feel like you need help outside of your appointments. You remove habits that no longer serve you in healthy, useful ways. You indulge in things you like to comfort yourself when you’re feeling down. You realize that you might need more time to do things, but that extra time doesn’t diminish the importance of what you do. You’re healing. You’re on the mend. You will always be recovering and repairing. This doesn’t have to be shameful or exhausting (even though it can be--but then you start back from acceptance and slowly work yourself back up). It just is.

Which, finally, returns me to Mass Effect 2, The Lazarus Project, and a resurrected Commander Shepard who has their military background include a deep emotional scar added into the mix of the very current emotional scar of having died in space. Jacob tells you that you were “just meat and tubes” the first time he saw you. You weren’t a corpse--you were pieces of a corpse. And you were remade from every atom--including your illnesses. Including your wounds, private hurts that only you ever felt or knew about.

How would this make you feel?

How would you feel about this life, this second pass through the universe, this mulligan on oblivion that pulled you back to this ol’ mortal coil? Angry, undoubtedly. It’s why renegade Shepard in Mass Effect 2 is something of a raging vicious psychopath--but I can’t quite blame them. not really.

Remember the musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer? When Buffy finally lets slip that she wasn’t in hell, suffering--she was in some kind of heaven? She was happy. She was at peace. And her friend dragged her soul back to its body, forcing her to dig her own way out of her grave, back to life, before she suffocated and died once again. She got her life back, but was never asked if she wanted it back.

That’s Commander Shepard in Mass Effect 2. That’s baseline commander shepard in Mass Effect 2.

Now imagine a mentally ill Shepard having to bear this burden. I’m not questioning whether or not Shepard could endure it (you’ve probably played the trilogy--you know the answer to that question). I’m simply asking you to imagine it. Imagine a marine of whom the galaxy, the entire galaxy, demanded everything. Every thankless task, every brutal mission, every hard choice, every life-altering, life-threatening, life-shortening thing possible under every sun. Imagine a marine lying in a pool of their own blood being told, “it didn’t work,” and their response is, “what do you need me to do?”

What do you need me to do? That, my friends, is the central question of acceptance and active healing. What do you need me to do? Ask your illnesses this when times are tough, or even when times are good. What do you need me to do? Maybe your brain wants to trick you every now and then. Slips in an invasive thought, or a self-destructive demand. Maybe it tries to sell you on a suspicion, building up to full-scale paranoia. These are not things you should feed into; they aren’t actions you should take. More pain will not serve you. Hurting yourself in any way is not the answer to an already existing pain.

Acceptance. Active healing. What do you need me to do? Assess your damage, know that pain will always be integral to your existence, but is by no means the only thing that defines it, and figure out how to respond to it.

Instead of looking at your traumas, your symptoms, your triggers, your anythings as flaws, as failures, as setbacks, as things to hate and be ashamed of, look at it as a part of you in need of care, and ask, What do you need me to do?

And remember this last piece of advice: be kind. Because even after destruction, Commander Shepard took just one more breath--one more small gasp of life. And sometimes that’s all you can ask of yourself: just one more breath. And then another. And another. This is probably the hardest lesson anyone with an illness will ever have to learn: you are healing. You will always be healing. You will always have to take just one more breath. Because that’s what you need to do for you. No one else.

So breathe.

#mass effect #mental illness #borderline personality disorder #ptsd #nick valentine #fallout 4

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olgagarmash · 3 years

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“I never believed I was average, and that alone is a big reason I wasn’t.” -Arnold Schwarzenegger

Perspective influences outcomes. The idea that your mindset plays an important role in your future reality is maybe one of the most underrated elements of human change.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is the ultimate example of someone who built a vision for what he wanted to achieve, created opportunities, and surpassed expectations throughout his life.

While it’s easier said than done, success leaves clues. Specifically, the way Arnold approaches situations, obstacles, and challenges is a masterclass in mental preparation, visualization, maximum effort, and mastery.

“No matter what, I had to prove to myself that I’m extraordinary. There is no normal,” Schwarzenegger told me during an exclusive interview.

The mind is a powerful thing, and Schwarzenegger has leveraged an unbreakable mindset to seemingly create a competitive advantage over the universe. As someone who started with nothing when he immigrated to the United States, his belief in himself has made the world apparently bend to his will — and not the other way around.

“Always think of yourself as special. And think, ‘I’m going to prove to myself and the rest of the world that I can do it.’”

Even at 72 years old, the bodybuilder-turned actor-turned governor-turned activist continues to believe there’s more to accomplish — and it’s likely the main reason he continues to add new achievements to his resume.

If you’re looking to change your mindset, and learn how to make a vision a reality, here are 8 lessons on motivation, mental toughness, and habits from my interview with Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Lesson 1: Remove Your Excuses

“There’s an advantage of doing things automatically,” says Schwarzenegger. “I have a routine where you don’t have to think much — if at all. [Routines] are the foundation of a house.”

Schwarzenegger has built his life on habits and routines that have made him a creature of habit and efficiency.

Whether it’s his workouts — delts and arms one day, chest and back and calves another day, abs every day, and an extra 30 minutes of cardiovascular exercise at night — or checking email and catching up on news, Arnold has built-in expectations for his day.

“Add as many of those routine things as possible because you do them without ever thinking about them. This is your daily schedule. Like breathing.”

While this isn’t earth-shattering, his mindset towards creating habits isn’t what you’d expect.

Whereas you might consider it difficult to build certain habits, that’s where Arnold believes most people go wrong. You can’t label something as “difficult.”

If you think about change as challenging, it’s the first step towards making it harder to adopt change.

“People should realize that I don’t have sympathy for ‘difficult.’ There are a lot of things in life that are difficult,” adds Schwarzenegger.

“If you want to build routines, you need to change your expectations. Are you going to back off every time something is difficult?”

“Or, are you going to be the person who looks at something that is difficult — or the most difficult — and say, ‘I’m going to go and do it and prove it to myself.’ That’s how you build habits.”

“Don’t ask should or shouldn’t I? You just do it.”

Lesson 2: Create Energy By Saving Energy

It’s easy to think of a routine as a way to be more efficient with your days. But, for Arnold, it’s so much more than that.

Routines are designed to require less mental energy and focus so you can have more energy to give to the non-routine aspects of your day. That’s why making certain daily experiences is so important. If you’re going to have the energy to tackle the new challenges, you can’t be drained by everyday expectations.

To help you understand the importance of automated experiences, Arnold shared his experiences in politics.

“When I was Governor, I had fixed funds on what you could spend on certain programs like education. It’s a fixed expenditure. Same for healthcare and prisons.”

“I had something like only 8 percent of discretionary funds. There’s very little wiggle room. But, knowing what is automatic and knowing what is not help you focus,” says Arnold.

Arnold recommends creating as many fixed moments in your day as possible. Then, you have fewer times where you’ll need to dig deep, be creative, and come up with custom solutions. This is good because then you’ll have more energy to dedicate, which means you’ll be more likely to succeed.

Less variation means more focus. The more you can focus on fewer things, the more likely you’re able to create a bigger impact.

[embedded content]

Lesson 3: Add Value With Effort

I asked Arnold about something most people don’t know about him, and he shared his love of art and painting. But, that’s not what stood out to me (even though I was impressed by his painting). It was how he thinks of his time spent creating art for others.

“Today, it’s easy to go to a store and buy a gift or go to the flower shop and get flowers. You used to go out and pick flowers and put them in a vase. It’s all flowers. But, my mother was in heaven that we made an effort to go out and make the gift.”

Arnold understands that output isn’t the only measure of success. Your effort is one of the most important parts of the equation.

“You must try to make an effort in everything you do, especially things for others. When you find pottery and paint on that, they know you spent hours on that. It makes a difference. It takes effort and people really like that.”

If you’re working on something, it’s easy to think about finishing the job. It’s something else to think about how you can take a task and put in more effort in a way that makes the final outcome something better or more meaningful.

Lesson 4: Success Follows the Unconventional

According to Arnold, more than 50 years ago, no one worked out in the morning. Gyms didn’t open until 10 am, so the entire structure of the day was based on rules that, as it turns out, didn’t exist for a good reason.

Arnold explained that people used to believe you were weaker in the morning. It wasn’t until he lived with his idol, Reg Park, who forced him to train early in the morning. Arnold recalls squatting 500 pounds at 5:30 am, and how it changed everything for him.

The shift helped him remove limiting beliefs about his body. This, in turn, helped him understand that most limitations are self-conceived.

“If you think you can’t do something, you won’t,” says Arnold. “But, if you try to do something different, you might be surprised how much what you thought was a limitation wasn’t real.”

Lesson 5: Turn Visualization into Realization

Arnold opened up about one of the scariest moments of his life:

“Arnold, you’ve been asleep 16 hours. Something went wrong with this non-invasive procedure…you had internal bleeding, and in order to have you not die, we had to open you up.”

In the most powerful moment of our discussion, Arnold shared how his “routine” heart surgery took an unexpected turn and he was faced with a difficult comeback prior to filming the latest Terminator film.

You might wonder how Arnold responded to such overwhelming news, and his response wasn’t what you might think.

“I wake up, I see what’s happening, I’m hearing the doctors, and I’ll I can think is, ‘Wait a minute, in three-and-a-half months, I’m supposed to be in Budapest to shoot Terminator 6. But, they are saying it takes 6 months to recover.’”

While it might seem like Arnold wasn’t thinking about the big picture and overall health, it was — in fact — the opposite. He was visualizing where he needed to be as a way to return to health.

“I always look for motivation. If you have no motivation, then it’s hard to get going under those circumstances. You’re down and you have a major setback. And the vision is what can bring you back.”

“If you have no goal, you have nothing. You have to know where to go. You need a vision.”

Lesson 6: Focus on Small Wins (They Add Up)

Once you have your vision, then you need to put in the reps. This is exactly what Arnold, whom many consider the greatest bodybuilder of all-time, had to do in order to recover from his heart surgery.

“I asked the doctors, ‘When can I get up?’ And the doctor says 3 to 4 days. People don’t die from the procedure; they die from pneumonia and lungs filling with fluid,” recalls Arnold.

“I’m going to be up tomorrow and I’m going to be walking. Get me a walker. And that’s what I did. I went for walks, would lie back down, rest, and then get back up for another walk. I was a fanatic. I built up to 2-hour walks. Then, I traded the walker for a cane.”

Instead of focusing on the end goal, Arnold focused on mini-milestones. Get out of bed. Use the walker. Go down the hall. Go for an hour. Ditch the walker for a cane.

The micro-goals were all steps on the way to recovery. And, it worked…just like it has throughout his life.

Within 6 days Arnold was out of the hospital. Just 3 weeks later he was working out with light weights. And, as he promised, three-and-a-half months later, he was on set for Terminator 6.

“The director said, ‘I can’t believe you had open-heart surgery three-and-a-half months ago,’” says Schwarzenegger.

“We all have setbacks, but, if you have a very clear vision and a clear goal, then you put in the reps, you can come back.”

Lesson 7: Find Your “On Switch”

Despite his success, Arnold isn’t immune to having down moments or aging. But, it’s his ability to adapt and be self-aware that allows him to keep on thriving.

“When I hit 50, I realized I was not able to come back as quickly at 2 am for filming after 2 hours of sleep. So I said, ‘I will never sleep again at night when I’m filming.’ But, I needed something to give me a spark.”

That spark was chess.

“The more chess I played, the more alert I was and able to come to the set fully charged because my mind was ready from all the chess. I remembered the lines 100% and the physical work felt 100%.”

“You have to figure out what it takes to be on. When you have a setback or feel sluggish or mentally tired, you must find a way to recharge.”

Lesson 8: Eliminate Distractions

In the 1970s, Arnold found himself overwhelmed with bodybuilding, acting, buying real estate, and building construction.

“A lot of things came together at once. I was overloaded,” recalls Schwarzenegger.

At that point, Arnold turned to meditation, something he has discussed in the past. For a year, he would meditate 20 minutes in the morning and another 20 minutes at night. Whereas many might find meditation beneficial for its ability to calm and destress, Arnold found another invaluable benefit that continues to help him today.

“[After meditating] all of a sudden, I could focus on one thing. I could do real estate and not be thinking about bodybuilding When training, I wasn’t thinking about acting. I got really focused and learned how to focus, and it made me better at everything I did.”

“Knowing how to focus on one thing at a time has made me better at everything I did.”

Build Arnold-Like Confidence

Arnold’s mindset is built on something we can all possess: confidence.

His confidence has allowed him to take chances and push himself to heights no one could’ve ever imagined — except maybe himself.

And, that’s the secret. If you believe something will happen, block out the distraction, and focus on habits that will allow you to tackle your big goals, then anything is possible. But, it all starts with your belief.

“Prove to [the world] that there are extraordinary things that can happen because that’s when they can.”

via Wealth Health

#IFTTT #Wealth Health

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wildwonderer93 · 4 years

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9 things I implore you to consider before going to work at a lodge

In 2015 I was bright eyed, and bushy tailed at the prospect of working in the bushveld. I was wooed by the stories I researched, the photos I saw and the thought of being close to nature. Little did I know what I was letting myself in for.

Hospitality in the bush can be incredibly rewarding in its own ways, but it is a HARD life and not meant for everyone. I spend 5 years in the bush in lodges and “animal rehabilitation centers” – boy has this time changed my life as well as my opinion dramatically!

1. Its never what it seems

My first job in the bush was a very well known “rehabilitation center”. I studied wildlife management and thought this would be my big break, the one I have been waiting for years. It looked incredible from the outside until I got into the working side of things. Animals were being bred for financial gain, moved between the center and the owner’s home at their will for their pleasure, meat being minced to feed them more economically. It was devastating. I spent two months in their butchery cutting up meat and wrapping animals they had allowed to die just to be stuffed and put on display in their museum. DO NOT be fooled by the social media, do your own research with the people who work there, or better yet worked there, to find out what really goes on.

I almost came back to my hometown and gave up on the whole adventure because of this place.

2. Loneliness

Nothing can describe the black hole of loneliness you feel when moving to a new city and environment without people to support you. If you go alone, like I did, it can be almost impossible to push through and stay when everything in you is shouting to give up. It can be hard getting a new group of friends in the bush especially since you cannot really trust anyone, someone is always out to take your job or get you fired, leak your secrets etc. So you have to be incredibly cautious when choosing who to associate with at your workplace. It could cost you your job. This mentality might cause the worst loneliness you might feel but it will protect your reputation and job. After all you are going to work not to make friends. Being so far away from home and often working 3-6 weeks at once means you loose touch with friends and family – by the time you have leave (which could be cancelled at any minute without notice – regular hospitality thing) your friends have either grown apart from you or are busy, away, married, on vaycay you name it. You will lose the majority of your friend circle, be prepared.

3. No pets

As mentioned above, it can be incredibly lonely. To make it worse you can never, ever have a household pet when working at a lodge or on a reserve. Most places have strict rules against pets as they can infect the wildlife with all sorts of horrible diseases. Some places allow you to foster a wild animal, if you find them helpless, but that wont last long. Not only is it cruel to keep a wild animal as a pet, this animal also has instincts that needs to develop with you cannot do for it and you also wont be able to move this animal to any other place, you are basically stuck at this place until you release it or it dies. So get use to the loneliness. We recently adopted our first puppy since we came back to the city, the joy this little guy brings us is indescribable, you will miss the unconditional love of an animal.

4. Everyone is in everyone’s business – #DRAMA

If you do not know this yet, surprise! When you work at a lodge you live with the people you work with. This can be nice at times, but mostly is not. If you hook up with someone, everyone knows. There is no secrecy, everyone talks about everyone and they will all pretend to be nice to your face and speak about you behind your back. I thought the city was bitchy until I got to the bush…You cannot do or say anything without the whole lodge knowing, and information travels like wildfire. Get ready for your every move to be on the tips of every co-worker’s tongue.

5. Long hard hours

You think you know what it means to work hard? You have not worked for a lodge yet then. Overtime is worked into most contracts and is deemed COMPULSORY. Working 10-16 hours a day for 6 weeks straight is normal. Working from 6am-4pm and coming back at 6pm till 12pm is normal. Also, you do not only do what you were appointed to do, you do what you are asked as the extra mile is EXPECTED not rewarded. Example – I was a administrative manager – I’ve made beds, washed dished, served food and drinks, cleaned rooms, cleaned pools, washed floors, did photoshoots, social media post, compaction writing and blog posts…none of that in my job scope, but if you want to be there you will do it. Also, you are very easily replaceable so do not think if you do not want to go the extra mile that they will not find a way to fire you (or make you leave on your own).

6. Shitty accommodation

Okay so obviously you are not going to work in the bush to live in a 5-star villa, but it can be messy and sometimes a health risk. The first place I stayed in had a problem with bats in the roof, it was sinking in and breaking apart there was so much guano in the roof – its been 5 years, multiple people have gotten sick and still they haven’t fixed the roof. Another place I stayed at had literally no curtains or railings or even a toilet roll holder. It was basic. I am not moaning about the type of accommodation, usually a small room with a kitchenette and if you are lucky your own bathroom, I am moaning about the run down and unhygienic conditions of most staff accommodations. When you go for your interview ask to see the room you will be living it, trust me.

7. Do your own research, get your own facts

Every place can appear magical, beautiful, caring and just incredible through their social media pages and websites, but that is not really what you want to know when going to work at a lodge. What you want to know is the truth. Go onto Linkedin or Facebook and find people who work there or have worked there, yes maybe a little unconventional and stalkerish, but it is the best way to understand the workings and environment of the place. Talk to them and ask your questions. When you go for your interview pay attention to what is happening around you and feel the vibe. They will try and sway you with pretty words an promises but you wont know if it is right for you until you do your own research.

8. Remoteness

Do you remember going to get an ice-cream when you were craving one? Decide to make pasta but you need some mince? Milk run out??? Well say goodbye to convenience. Cravings are so inconvenient that you most often change yourself just to get over them. Most lodges are in reserves about an hour away from the nearest shop. And trust me driving a two hour round trip is not worth your packet of sweeties. You will stop drinking milk for a week when you run out. You cannot go for a drink with anyone because you must drive an hour to get home or the reserve gates close. Say goodbye to most of your regular social activities – you will now unwillingly become the person who stays at home for a braai with your colleagues. Also, it is really difficult to find fro-yo in the bush!

9. Human dignity

Of all the things I mentioned above, this must be the most important.

Never in my life did I think I would allow myself to be so disrespected and broken down for a job. Your human dignity goes down the gutter when you go into hospitality and it is best to expect it than to just blindly accept it. Prepare yourself.

I have been screamed at, sworn at, thrown with food and items, pushed around, my character attacked – and not once did any of my managers defend or protect me. Why? Because the customer is always right and if you work at a lodge you better be ready to accept that regardless of how the guest acts. You will be broken down, disrespected, and torn apart by the worst people while you just must stand there and take it. This is the main reason I will never go back to hospitality; my human dignity is much more important than a pay check. Yes, people are rude and disrespectful all over the world, but I strongly believe people in hospitality, especially waiters, get treated like they are not humans beyond employees of the place they are staying at. You will not be thanked or rewarded for dedication and hard work; it is expected of you as an employee.

Now, I have mentioned quite a lot of horrible factors of working in the bush. They are not all as bad as they seem. I for one enjoy being on my own and keeping to myself, and if it were not for the lodges, I would never have met my husband. But you need to be realistic about every factor when you make the decision to move to the bush, the good and the bad.

I spent little over 5 years in the bush, I have seen some amazing things, experienced some amazing things that I never would have if I did not take this leap of faith. But now I am drained. 260 weeks of work for 60 weeks of leave. 1820 days of work for 420 days of leave. That is 80% work, 20% leave. Whereas in a normal 9-5 jobs its 65% work, 35% leave. ¾ of the last 5 years was devoured by work, which is unhealthy and unsustainable.

If you love wildlife and the bush I will no doubt encourage you to give this a go but remember you cannot go on like this forever. You and your body will get tired and if you are not careful you will go into autopilot and quickly realize you have been in the same place for the last 10 years, going nowhere.

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sweetnestor · 7 years

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12 Days | Chapter 3.2

Two guys that lowkey hate each other are forced to walk in each other’s shoes in order to learn a lesson.

***in collaboration with @themarkiplierexperience

lmao soz its not actually x reader we’re just desperate for attention haaaa

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Tom said, “I just… I need to take a mental health break.”

He was in the living room in Ethan’s apartment, sat with Ethan’s boss, Mark. He was tall, muscular, and just as intimidating as the very first guy (who’s called Tyler, as it turns out) Tom saw when he entered this weird reality. They had been talking for some time now, and Tom managed to improvise a story regarding his, or Ethan’s, current state of mind. For some reason, he expected Mark to be angry when he said he couldn’t work for the time being. Tom still wasn't even sure what it was that Ethan did for Mark.

“Okay,” he replied. “Have you had any other panic attacks, or things like that, since the other day?”

“Uh. Yeah, some type of anxiety,” Tom replied, sounding stressed out. “Bella thinks I overworked myself, and I kind of agree with her. I think I need to slow things down for a little bit. I don’t… I don’t really feel like myself.” That's one way to put it.

Mark nodded. “Alright, that’s no problem. I have Kathryn and Amy helping out, anyway. Just worry about yourself. Is there anything else you wanna talk about? You know, as a friend, rather than an employee?”

Tom didn’t know how close Ethan was to this guy, so he just shook his head. He still had a lot of research to do. There was so much to find out about all of this, it was almost like auditioning for a movie role. Except the movie was Ethan's life, and the audition came in the form of being thrust into said life without any warning.

“So…” Mark trailed off. “Are you still doing videos for your channel? Or are you taking a break from that too?”

He hesitated. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I’ll gladly support you. We’re all here for you, man.” Mark stood up from the couch. “I gotta get going, but you’ll be okay til Bella comes back?”

Tom stood up as well, waving it off. “Yeah man, don’t worry. Thank you for hearing me out. I'll try my best to get myself together. I'll be back in the office before you know it.”

“Hey, don't worry about it. Don't rush into anything if you're not ready.”

Mark then went in for a friendly, reassuring hug. For someone who looked very manly and intimidating, he was very nice. You couldn't dislike him right off the bat. Then again, Mark was speaking to who he thought was his friend/employee. Nothing about this was normal.

After Tom was left alone again, he got back to research. He wasn't sure how long he would have to act as Ethan, but he had to play it off in the meantime. He went over and sat at the computer, which was hidden behind these massive acoustic panels in the bedroom. At that little area, Tom took note of the giant lights, the video camera, the two monitors, and all these other extra wires and cords. His mind was already an endless circle of questions, and this setup just added to it.

Shaking it off, he sat at the desk and began searching online. From there, he discovered that Ethan was in fact one of Mark's editors alongside Kathryn. Then, Tom had to search exactly what it was that Mark did (YouTube gaming personality, a recurring topic in this life.) Through that Wiki page, he found Bella, who used to date Mark. Tom then remembered catching a glimpse of Mark's current girlfriend, Amy, at the office. Blonde girl with a pleasantly soothing voice. Apparently, Mark left Bella for her last summer. Somehow they're all friends. He kept reading before going to find any videos.

“Okay,” Tom spoke to himself after a while. “Ethan works as Mark's video editor. Mark is dating Amy, who is friends with the other editor, Kathryn. Tyler is Mark's oldest friend out of the group, and he’s… his secretary? Bella was recently hired by Mark, who is her ex, and now she's dating Ethan. They all went on tour together last month, except for Bella. Why didn't she go?”

His phone started buzzing on the desk. Speak of the devil. He opened up the text message.

“I'm coming over and I'm bringing sushi for you!! Hope you're not too busy…” it read, with a wink face added at the end.

That made Tom’s stomach flip over. He couldn't say no! What would Bella think if her boyfriend was suddenly disinterested in her? After answering her text, Tom sent another message to Ethan, asking to call when he got the chance. He could only hope it would be soon. They both had things to go over if they were going to stay like this.

In the meantime, he tried not to feel like a creepy stalker as he searched through Bella’s social media. Tom debated going through Ethan's texts with her, but then decided that that would be a little too much. Whatever he needed to do in order to find out about Bella would have to be through her public persona.

By the time she had showed up to his apartment, all he knew was that she was a Latina makeup artist with a vulgar mouth. He closed the video he was watching on his phone when he heard the knock on the door and got up from the couch to answer.

He was pleasantly surprised to see her wearing a low cut shirt and a short black skirt. How was someone as attractive as her dating someone like Ethan? He was almost dumbstruck by her appearance, he didn't know what to say at first. At this point, Tom couldn't deny that Bella was really hot. But she wasn't his to claim. Sure, the view was nice, but where was this going to go?

“Hey you,” Bella greeted as she stepped inside. She placed her hand on his shoulder and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “How ya doing?”

“Good,” Tom replied, remembering his words. He followed her trail to the breakfast bar. “You look… you look nice.”

“Aw, thanks,” she replied as she sat on one of the stools.

Her skirt rose up a little bit as she shifted, and Tom barely caught a glimpse of the skimpy garter on her thigh. Okay, Ethan was a lucky guy. But Tom was not him; He had to get out of this somehow. Or did he?

“So… sushi?” he asked, gesturing to the plastic bag as he went to sit in the other stool. “Where'd you get it from?”

“Same place as always,” she replied, pulling two containers from the bag. “I think your sushi obsession is rubbing off on me, it's all I wanna eat now.”

He chuckled. “Good. It's all we'll ever need.”

Bella then started talking about the videos she planned to make during the week. She spoke of the packages that were sent to her in the mail, and how excited she was to try the new products. Tom just listened and pretended to know what she was on about as he ate. He was actually curious as to how Bella’s job worked, but she was speaking as if he already knew all of it.

“Oh my god! I also have to edit my interview with Tom Holland!” she exclaimed like she just remembered that piece of information.

Now things were getting interesting. Tom knew that Ethan wasn't his biggest fan, but this sparked his curiosity. He sat up, wanting to hear more. “Yeah?”

Bella twiddled her fork in her hand, a worried look on her face. “Ugh, I have to look at myself trying not to have anxiety attack. And then I have to put it out for everyone to see. Do you think he noticed I was freaking out?”

“Not at all,” Tom answered without hesitation. “You were very professional and well put together. If there was anything he'll remember about you, it's probably your hair.” All of that was true.

“Yeah, and the stupid questions I asked,” she glumly added.

“Hey, they weren't stupid!” he reassured. “They were so different to what I - he, probably gets. How many times has he told the story of how he found out he was Spider-Man? I can tell, he's probably tired of telling that tale!”

“I suppose.” Bella shrugged. Then she sighed. “Okay, whatever. I'll worry about that later. But I have to get that video up in the next couple of days. My mentions have not calmed down since I posted that selfie with him on Instagram. Anyway, sorry, I'll stop talking about him now.”

He raised an eyebrow. Were there times where Ethan told Bella to stop talking about certain things because he didn't like hearing about them? Given the way he acted over the phone, Tom wouldn't put it past him. But was this a normal occurrence between them? What did she even see in Ethan?

“Let's go to the couch,” she said after a while, getting to her feet and grabbing his hand.

“Oh, okay!” He let himself be practically yanked from his seat. His heart began pounding hard as Bella sat him down on the soft cushion.

Shit, this was happening. Before Tom could protest, Bella was straddling his lap and pressing her lips against his. For a second, he debated gently pushing her away but… she was a good kisser. She's hot as hell. Tom placed his hands on her waist, almost ready to let this happen, forgetting completely about the main situation at hand.

Then he heard a strange clicking noise. One glance down made reality hit Tom like ice water.

“What the fuck?!” he snapped in shock once he discovered that Bella was a holding a knife in her hand. “What are you doing?!”

He threw his arms up and tried to shift out of the position he was in. He almost wanted to push the girl away, but she was the one with a deadly weapon. What the hell kind of shit is she into? What kind of relationship was this? This couldn't be normal!

Bella quickly got back to her feet, a frantic look in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I thought you'd like it, I'm sorry…”

“Why the hell would I like that?” Tom harshly returned, still distraught. “What the fuck, what is wrong with you? Are you trying to kill me?”

She looked down, almost like she was curling into herself. She silently closed the switchblade and lifted her skirt to clip back to the garter. Then, she turned on her heel, making her way out of the apartment. He didn't try to stop her, until he remembered yet again that he wasn't himself. In Bella’s teary brown eyes, Ethan just yelled at her, and now she was upset.

“Bella-”

“Don't.”

And then the door slammed shut.

Tom sat there in silence, still trying to process what just happened. He didn't even want to think about what Bella would have done with that knife. Was that something people were into? Just when he thought this situation couldn't get any weirder.

Somehow, he managed to sleep through the night, despite the fact that the silence from Ethan was like an itch that couldn’t be satisfied. The longer the silence went on, the bigger opportunity there was for both of them to mess something up. Tom probably already crossed that line with Ethan’s girlfriend. He could only imagine what Ethan has been up to since he last spoke to him.

He checked his phone, only to discover a message from someone called Sean. There was a slight hesitation before Tom decided to open it. He noticed a head of bright green hair in the contact photo, and it definitely rang a bell. Had he interacted with this guy prior to the switch?

“You busy? You better not be because me and Signe are going to Bella’s and you better be there!!”

Shit. Who are these people? How many friends did this guy have?

Tom checked for any messages for the guy currently living in his shoes. Nothing. How long more would he be kept waiting?

“Dude, where are you? What have you been doing? Call me!”

After sending that, he sat up and looked around the room. It felt weird sleeping in the bed of a person he didn't know, but what choice did he have?

He got up and looked around for something to wear. Even when he wasn't in his own body, in his own home, Tom looked to the floor first. He picked up a black t-shirt and did a quick smell check before putting it on. Then he picked up a pair of jeans, which caused something small but dense to fall out of the pocket.

If it hadn't hit him on the top of his foot, Tom would have ignored it. But he looked down, finding a black, round stone. He bent down and picked it up, staring at it and trying to figure out why it looks so familiar. Surely this belonged to Ethan, but Tom had a stone just like this one. How many things would these guys have in common? Was this why they switched?

Suddenly, Tom gasped. He looked at the smooth, shiny stone in realization. He knew where he and Ethan got these from. Pantsless and panicked, he hopped back onto the bed, grabbed his phone, and dialed Ethan.

_______

tag list: @marie-is-in-the-dark @beardedsteveslut

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#crankgameplays x oc #ethan nestor x reader #tom holland x oc #tom holland x reader #sweetheart writes #sweetheart collabs #twelve days #i was gonna post this on friday but i was out getting lit lmao oops #sorry for the wait yall #im glad ppl are liking this it makes my cold ass heart smile a lil bit #anyway give us attention

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theramseyloft · 7 years

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Please don't compare autistic people to animals. It's super not cool.

I’m assuming you’re referring to this quote from the ask about pigeons and parrots.

“And if your mom is prepared for that and able to deal with what amounts to an autistic 5 year old with wings who can scream literally as loud as a jet taking off and bite through a broom handle for the next 60-80 years, then awesome!More parrots deserve a home that’s actually prepared for them!”

And I am sorry if that was offensive to any one. Another friend pointed out that it might be, so I went back and made the following edit to the post, immediately following the paragraph above.

“(Before any one gets concerned, I am autistic! I do not describe parrots this way as an insult. The similarities are just glaring to me, and if the thought of living with an autistic human child is upsetting, you should really rethink getting a parrot.)”

I stated at the beginning of the post that I’m not good with words either.

Writing is the way I communicate most eloquently. I literally can’t talk like this vocally, unless I’ve spent HOURS practicing.

If I don’t mean any harm by it, I often can’t see how it could be hurtful, and I depend on more socially adept followers and friends to take me aside and point things out when I miss them.

I did not make the comparison for shock value or to degrade any one.

I am autistic.

The similarities are genuinely glaring, to me.

I see myself and other people like me in every complaint I have ever heard some one make when they got rid of a parrot.

“It’s too loud!” “It destroys EVERYTHING!” “It won’t let me cuddle when *I* want to!” “It won’t stop plucking!” “I’m scared of it.” “It’s food/toys/housing/care/ is too expensive!”

All leads to:

“I don’t want it anymore!”

Parrots are BRILLIANT!

Not only are they incredible mimics, but they are amazingly mechanically adept! They LOVE puzzles and climbing and they need TONS of time and mental stimulation! Space to play and forage! Toys they can destroy with out getting hurt. The company of some one that understands their needs and their behaviors.

They are adapted to live in HUGE flocks! Screeching that carries for miles keeps them in contact with each other.

Screeching is not bad behavior for a parrot. It’s just calling out to see if some one will answer. Cockatoos especially genuinely NEED loud, excited time!

Humans that vocally stim are not misbehaving. They NEED to make noise to express emotion.

Expecting a parrot or the humans who need to vocally stim to keep silent all the time is TERRIBLE for their mental health! It stresses both unspeakably to bottle that up, especially if they are loud because they’re happy or excited!

Loud time is necessary, and people who think they want a parrot have to be ok with and prepared for that.

Parrot’s thick, powerful beaks are designed to cut, crush, and splinter.They eat hard nuts, tough fruits, and many species chew through wood to make nest holes. They even use their beaks as an extra hand to climb.

They are not being bad when they bite.

They don’t usually mean to bite hard. But human hands are fragile, and biting hard enough to hurt is really easy to do by accident.

I accidentally put one of my elementary school teachers in the hospital by running up and hugging her as tight as I could.

I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was just SO overwhelmingly happy to see her, and it didn’t dawn on me that I even could have.

People who think they want a parrot need to be prepared for the fact that they don’t innately know how hard is too hard, or that they can hurt their handler without meaning to.

Scared, cornered parrots can inflict a LOT of damage attempting to defend themselves or their eggs from The Scary Thing!

They aren’t being bad when they do that either.

It’s usually a misunderstanding.

Bird warning signs are just not intuitive to humans, and when we want to touch a pet, we tend to insist the pet be ok with that when ever we want them to be with little to no regard for its comfort.

You guys have NO idea how afraid I was of the neurotypical kids who seemed to go out of their way to harass me, bully me, and kill or destroy things I liked because my behavior was not normal.

They’d be friendly one second and hateful the next, from my perspective, and not knowing what to expect made me skittish and defensive and withdrawn.

People that think they want a parrot need to be prepared to learn to understand enough of its behavior to know when it’s receptive to interaction and when it’s overstimulated pr afraid and needs its boundaries to be respected.

You also need to understand that all parrots tamed by imprinting are at least some degree of mentally ill.

Mental illness and neurotype are not the same thing.

There is nothing wrong with an autistic person. We are healthy people whose brains process and store and retrieve information differently from what is more common and thus considered typical.

Mental illness is usually caused by physical or emotional trauma or neglect.

Let’s start with the fact that the vast majority of parrots do not get to live their lives as parrots.

They are removed from their parents and raised by humans, which is, let me remind you, genuinely necessary for them to be safe to handle in captivity.

Imprinting, as stated in the post, does not just make an animal think you are its mother.

A birds entire species identity is conveyed through imprinting. “This is what you are, this is your social structure, these are your normal behaviors, this is what you eat, how you live, what you should be sexually attracted to.”

Parrots raised by humans think that they are human because that’s what imprinting does.But all of its instinctual urges will be parrot, and they will not match the thing it has imprinted on, which leads to a LOT of the miscomunication that stresses the bird and overwhelms the owner.

Humans don’t imprint, but I can tell you from experience that there is a disconnect between the way neurotypical and autistic humans think and process and interact with the world just drastic enough that it makes it hard to communicate effectively, despite being the same species and speaking the same language.

It’s incredibly frustrating, and with out any indication that the other can understand you, you just... give up and withdraw.

People who think they want a parrot need to understand that a withdrawn bird doesn’t hate them and isn’t being bad. Its attempts to communicate have failed and it has given up.

An understanding of psitticine body language will go a LONG way to prevent this issue.

Most pet parrots live functionally alone and spend most of their time confined to their cage. They may never see another bird of their species, or even another bird, period, in their lives.

Look at most parrot cages on the market and the species they are marketed as suitable for.Most parrot cages are just display stands, barely large enough for the bird to stretch its wings out all the way, never mind flying or climbing or engaging in any natural behaviours!

And keep in mind that these are wild animals, less than ten generations into domestication.

Adapting to confinement takes GENERATIONS of selective breeding, and all ethics aside, parrots just haven’t had the TIME!

An intelligent, intensely social animal used to traveling great distances, spending a lot of time foraging and relying on chewing to get almost every comfort met from food to nests will hallucinate, pace, tear up its enclosure, lash out at its handlers, and eventually self mutilate when deprived of all social interaction, mental stimulation, physical activity, and behavioral outlets necessary to reduce stress.

Sound familiar?

Parrots don’t get to choose who they live with. Autistic humans don't get to choose who they are born to or who becomes their care taker. And the consequances of willingly or accidentally failing to meet their needs are STRIKINGKLY similar.

I am sorry if that is offensive.

I was not drawing attention to these parallels to say “Parrots are terrible because they are like autistic people!”

I am pointing them out as food for thought to remind people to respect that their needs are complex, not especially intuitive to the typical joe, and if you want one, you need to be prepared to spend the next 60-80 years doing your best to keep the commitment you made to meet them all.

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