#my mental state is worsening everyday I’m really trying hard to be strong but it’s impossible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyperfixationtimego · 3 years

Note

Alright we’re trying this angst thing again

Diamond Brothers Angst because I said so

Both Daiya and Mondo have huge self esteem issues bc of the crash

Both think stuff along the lines of what the fuck I could have prevented that

Neither Daiya nor Mondo can sleep very well because when they hear vehicles driving past and the occasional screeching tires they’re back at the scene of the accident

They hear a semi truck rumbling past? Suddenly neither of the brothers remember how to move or breathe properly

They both survived the crash but they were both injured severely bc fuck dude that was a truck that hit them

The Crazy Diamonds witnessed the whole thing and they were Worried™️

And we all know how the Owadas hate being vulnerable

Neither of the brothers could actively ride their motorcycles for a long time after the crash because they couldn’t handle it emotionally

They played off their mental recovery time as time in the hospital

Daiya made Mondo promise not to get back on his motorcycle, much less the road, until he was 100% sure that he was prepared to handle it because what if there’s another freak accident that neither of them have control over

Mondo made Daiya promise the exact same thing because He Cares™️

Mondo has reoccurring nightmares about the crash and often sees Daiya dead in those nightmares

The gang shows up in the nightmares too and they’ve all been hit and it’s all Mondo’s fault and he couldn’t be a good leader because he wasn’t strong enough and why couldn’t he just be more like his brother god fucking dammit

Sometimes he sees Taka or Chihiro in place of Daiya and the Diamonds and that Absolutely Terrifies Him™️

Daiya has reoccurring thoughts about hijacking a truck to hit the driver who hurt him and his little brother

He wants them to feel all the same pain and more that they put the Diamond Brothers through

Daiya has breakdowns over this because even if he is a gang leader, he would not go that far

cue the Am I A Bad Person Complex™️

Mondo does not let himself stim

He doesn’t think it’s manly and it definitely doesn’t fit the Tough Guy™️ act

This leads to worsened focus and next thing you know he and Daiya are having a yelling match at home because if Mondo’s grades drop any lower he’ll be expelled soon and Daiya just wants the best for his brother but nothing works out the way it was planned

One time Mondo received a popsicle stick and paper heart from Taka

He was extremely happy

When he got back to his dorm he was that happy that he was shaking and then oh shit

Mondo broke it

He snapped the popsicle sticks in half

the note that Taka wrote,, it got ripped in the process

Mondo full on sobbed over this for an hour at the least

Actual

Real

Tears

He broke something that Taka— not just his bf, but his best friend— had worked so hard on to make just for him and he fucking broke it like a shit for brains idiot

Mondo is terrified of hurting his friends

Because what if he forgets to take his adhd meds one day and his emotional dysregulation is all fucked up and he has an outburst again and actually hurts his friends

Or what if he takes 2+ doses by accident and focuses too hard and is left staring at one (1) spot and everyone hates him and what if they think he’s a creep

Mondo hates going out of his dorm at night because what if someone else is out and they have a flashlight and now they’re pointing it at him and it’s bright and those are headlights and that’s

that’s his brother

on the ground

not moving

Mondo will start shaking and he’ll break down hyperventilating or freeze on the spot

Either way, he hates being vulnerable

Whaddaya think? :D was that enough angst?

also can you tell that i kin Daiya on the dl bc i too got hit by a moving vehicle to save my young mer sibling from being hit /lh but also srs lmfo

HEY TINK??? HEY TINK????????

GodDAMN make me cry over this shit oKAY-

also sorry this took ✨forever✨ I had to gather my Thoughts™️ and my brain did not want to work today 😌

also before we get into my things, tw for trauma (obviously), unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking/drug relapse/smoking as a crutch, and suicidal ideation (passive, but still there)

First of all, y e a h oh my god?? There is literally so much internalized guilt for both of them,,,,,like they rlly do have episodes sometimes where they just. Play over the events of what lead up to the crash in their heads and fixate on what they could have done differently,,,,,even though in the moment they both did their best? Like “well, I shouldn’t have taken us down this street” or “if I had acted quicker, maybe it wouldn’t have happened” and.....yeah those thoughts really fuck with them, y’know?

and 100% that unexpected/overwhelming vehicle noises and/or presences are nearly debilitating. Honestly, I imagine that Mondo can’t go hang out with Leon and Taka or whoever else if said people are hanging out in Kaz’s workshop. Owada’s only ever been in there once and immediately had to leave when he heard Kazuichi starting an engine he was working on. Not to mention being surrounded by a shit ton of vehicles, even if they were idle, had kept him on-edge the entire thirty seconds he was able to handle it.

They both deal with a lot of phantom pain, as well. Like something triggers them and suddenly, even if they’re able to remain in the moment and keep conscious of their surroundings, they somehow feel every ache, every twinge of pain, every breaking bone, or bruised patch of skin that they felt on that day. It’s a lot more prominent in Daiya than it is with Mondo, but they do both experience it!

And neither one lets the other know when they’re feeling like shit or having an episode because 😌 Daiya. wants to be strong. for his little brother. and Mondo. sees his brother basically functioning like a typical person. and figures that there’s something wrong with him. because he can’t get over what happened.

Takemichi is absolute shit with Emotions and being vulnerable or getting people to open up to him, but he’s like..........internally these bitches are Not Okay what the fuck am I supposed to do about it???? So he kind of...tries to hint to both of them that he’s worried? Without making it obvious or embarrassing them, but he’s like.......fuck these assholes.......making me be the one to make them realize they need help goddamnit........

And michi exhibiting a change in behavior is pretty 👀 because. it’s michi I mean he’s not just gonna change the way he talks in front of u for nothing, u know? So both Daiya and Mondo are actually able to pick up on it, although their reactions differ pretty greatly.

Like Daiya’s first thought is “wow, he’s worried, that’s really sweet of him. Better convince him everything’s okay.”

Meanwhile Mondo’s is “wow, he’s worried. my stupid emotional turmoil is that obvious. he must think I’m some sorta fuckin idiot for not being able to get over it. or selfish. or both. yeah, probably both.”

Also I think Daiya’s pretty perceptive in general? Like he can Tell™️ that something’s going on with his brother, but........yeah emotional conversations....vulnerability......that’s rlly neither of their strong suits. + he also figures that if it were something mondo were really really really having trouble with, he would come talk to him!

And so Daiya has absolutely no concept of just how Not Good his brother is doing right now hbbvvvv

So he settles for being like “I’m just gonna stay strong and act like the memories and intrusive thoughts aren’t affecting me in any way because I want to be a good role model” (which. is not healthy obv)

oh g o d the nightmares

they are so horrible and vivid and concentrated at times that Mondo simply.....refuses to sleep. He’s exhausted, both mentally and physically, and yet he can’t bring himself to close his eyes because he knows what he’ll see if he does.

And of course it affects him to the point that his friends start to become worried. Like Taka notices a stark increase in tardiness or general absences, and, after an initial assumption that it was simply Mondo choosing not to care about his academics again, realized that there was probably a lot more going on than he realized. He really, really wanted to bring it up and let his boyfriend know that he’ll always be there for him no matter what, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to articulate it properly. The farthest he gets is with the question, “is everything okay?”

And as much as Mondo wants to respond to him by saying that no, in fact, everything is not okay, everything sucks and everything hurts and he’s tired and he hates himself and sometimes he wishes that the crash had killed him, but that’s selfish so he should shut up- he just.....can’t bring himself to open himself up like that. Yes, he and Ishi are dating, so logically he should be able to tell him all this, but.....it’s so much. It’s too much. Too much to think, too much to feel, let alone try to explain. So he shuts himself up with a quick, curt, “Yeah.”

And....Taka knows he’s lying. He’s not sure how he knows, but he does. And it hurts to see someone he loves so much in such a state of anguish, and basically be unable to do anything about it because....how is he supposed to respond? What is he supposed to say? Navigating everyday interaction is difficult enough without having to improv something that could affect his partner’s mental health indefinitely. So....he does his best. Which isn’t enough, really, but it’s something.

“You can tell me anything.”

Mondo wants to believe him.

—

Another side of that same coin is Mondo skipping class a lot more than is typical for him. It’s almost always with Leon, but he’s also begun slipping away on his own, occasionally, as well, now.

And....y’know, at first, Leon thought it was super rad that Owada and he were skipping more! Like it used to be that Kuwata would offer for them to miss the next class, and Mondo’s usual answer would be ‘not today,’ and then Leon would keep bugging him about it until Mondo either gave in or told him to fuck off.

But....there’s just something about how it went from Leon being constantly shut down, to being told yes around the first few times the idea was brought up, to how, suddenly, Kuwata wasn’t even the one asking, anymore. It’s....depressing? Uncomfortable?

There’s also the fact that hanging out while they’re cutting just....isn’t as fun as it used to be? Leon’ll crack jokes or come up with stupid dares, and Mondo’s responses will be noncommittal at best. And Leon’s had enough experience with sleep deprivation to know it in his friends when he sees it.

He’s never been put in this situation before - usually it’s kuwata having some sort of stupid episode and usually it’s owada who’ll tell him to chill the fuck out and think rationally about things, but....Mondo acts a lot different when he’s upset than Leon does. He smokes more. Cuts himself off from everyone. Doesn’t engage with anything.

It’s different with people like Toko, or Makoto, or Kaz, because Leon knows what they need. He knows whether or not they need vulnerability, or a physical presence, or tough love, or tactile grounding, or a willing ear or shoulder to cry on, but with Mondo......he just isn’t sure.

So Leon doesn’t comment.

——-

Chihiro’s probably the one to get him to open up about it ngl.

ANYWAY-

y e a h Daiya intrusive thoughts?????? fuck yeah???? absolutely??????

god yeah I rlly feel him on that ngl hbhdbdbdbbb

and MONDO DARLING 🥺

god okay it SUCKS because????? he doesn’t judge his friends for stimming????? Like he sees his friends fidgeting or repeating phrases or rocking back and forth and he’s like???? Hell yeah you go u funky kid ilysm

But when it comes to himself????? he’s like if I do anything aside from stay perfectly still, I’m weird and bad and a failure so I simply Will Not

he’s wrong but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels that way ❤️

hhhvhvvdd I’m also a slut for daiya doing his best as a makeshift parental figure,,,,,,,like fuck dude okay,,,,,,as an older sibling who also loves and cares about their younger sibs but often finds emotionally connecting with them to be difficult,,,,,,,,,mood??? And having all of that amplified by rlly being his younger bro's only support in his home life,,,,,,,like ok mr. owada go off

he feels a lot of pressure to get it right and make sure that Mondo's doing okay, so the grades really worry him. but, of course, grades are a touchy subject with mondo regardless, so as u said it devolves into arguments and yelling and a lot of defensiveness!!

and god okay,,,,,,,the heart rlly got me,,,,,,,like that hurt. it rlly hurt man okay damn

honestly??? I think that might be the thing that gets him to break. like that might be his final straw.

because when they meet up again, Ishi asks him about it and whether or not he liked it. And Mondo just.

fucking.

breaks.

down.

He’s shaking and he’s crying and there’s snot running down his nose and this is so ugly and so not manly but he can’t stop. he can’t stop. Because there is this sweet, gentle, kind, sweet, beautiful, darling, sweet man before him who did something so nice for him, something he didn’t deserve, and he destroyed it.

Like he destroys everything.

And so when Taka panics and asks him what’s wrong (yes Ishi gets worried that he did something bad and yes ishi also gets worried that his boyfriend didn’t like the present because hdbdvdvd kin 💛) owada just. spills everything. and he doesn’t even begin with the gift??? he starts with apologies upon apologies, many of them incoherent, and many of them with Mondo not even certain what he’s apologizing for, just that he knows he needs to

and ofc Taka is like o-o because wow ok

but after his initial shock, and after Mondo has thoroughly cried himself out and explained everything he could stand to explain at that point in time, Taka just......holds him. And strokes his face, brushing away the tears that have not yet dried, simply offering his body as a weight, as something for Mondo to ground himself with. And it works.

And Taka insists that Mondo has nothing to apologize for, only that he wishes Mondo would have told him what was going on sooner. Because he wants to help. And hearing that just gets Owada’s waterworks going all over again, but he’s still got Ishi there with him. He hasn’t scared him off.

And it’s more than enough.

—

and UGH yeah????? yes absolutely absolutely okay okay so,,,,,,,,mondo comorbid adhd/depression/anxiety

like sir 🤝

got me fucked up smh

honestly he’s probably not diagnosed with the depression or anxiety, either, until something like the incident with ishi prompts him to realize oh wow I’m not okay actually

so yes he 100% does???

he constantly has all of these what if situations swirling around in his brain about what might happen if he fucks up, or does something that he doesn’t qualify as fucking up in the moment, but leads to something awful or painful or harmful for someone else, and he’s just??????? g o d

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zairapvrker · 4 years

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disabledsos day!

Author’s note: heya everyone! i took some time off of your requests, and i apologize for that, because in the past couple of days i’ve been working on this fic for this amazing and wonderful project! disabledsos was born to bring visibility to fans who are dealing with any sort of disability and spread awareness to make the community feel loved within the fandom. if you wanna read more about it, and i really encourage you to, i’ll leave the link for the original post here: https://skinnylukes.tumblr.com/post/613965381647876096/attention-5sos-fanswriters thank you so much to @skinnylukes for reaching out to me about this, i feel very honoured to partake in the project you’ve created with so much dedication and love. i tried my very best to educate myself about the disabling disease i’ll be writing about, however i apologize if some details are missing or wrong. please feel free to correct me, constructive criticism is always welcomed! and to all of you strong, amazing, beautiful people who fight everyday, i’m so proud of you all and my heart goes out to you, never give up, we’re all here for you! i keep you in my thoughts, always.

Multiple Sclerosis (MS) is a potentially disabling disease of the brain and spinal cord. In MS, the immune system attacks the protective sheath (myelin) that covers nerve fibers and causes communication problems between your brain and the rest of your body. Eventually, the disease can cause permanent damage or deterioration of the nerves. Signs and symptoms of MS vary widely and depend on the amount of damage and which nerves are affected. Some people with severe MS may lose the ability to walk independently or at all, while others may experience long periods of remission without any new symptoms. MS can occur at any age, but usually affects people between the ages of 16 and 55. There’s no cure for multiple sclerosis. However, treatments can help speed recovery from attacks, modify the course of the disease and manage symptoms. These last ones can vary from person to person and differ greatly and over the course of the disease depending on the location of affected nerve fibers. Symptoms often affect movement, such as numbness or weakness in one or more limbs that typically occurs on one side of your body at a time, or the legs and trunk, electric-shock sensations that occur with certain neck movements, tremor, lack of coordination or unsteady gait. Vision problems are also common, such as partial or complete loss of vision, usually in one eye at a time, prolonged double vision and blurry vision. People with MS may also develop muscle stiffness or spasms, paralysis (typically in the legs), mental changes such as forgetfulness or mood swings, depression and epilepsy.

“Mikey, I’m home!” you yelled as soon as you’d entered your shared apartment. Your roommate, and best friend, was almost always on the couch playing videogames but the headset he used to play made it hard for him to hear any sound outside of the yelling of his friends. That’s why you always had to be loud when you came home from work, slamming the door and calling out for him to notify him of your presence.

It had been an incredibly hard day, your stress levels were through the roof. It seemed you forgot pretty much every task you were supposed to do, remembering only when reminded, and couldn’t keep your focus. After all, you were in charge of much and with the imminent publishing of a new article, you’d blamed it on the general chaos that overtook the entire office.

“Hey, you” you nudged Michael’s shoulder as you sat down next to him on the couch, making his head turn in your direction. A smile opened up on his face upon seeing you finally home. “Hey, you’re back!” he exclaimed happily, stamping a kiss on your cheek. You giggled watching as he bid goodbye to his friends and shut the TV off. “So, I haven’t had the chance to get started on dinner-“ he started, sheepishly. “Michael!” you reprimanded with a smile on your face, slapping his arm playfully. “But I did think about what kind of take out to order” he justified, his arms up in surrender, the same amused smile you showcased on your face etched on his. You’d sighed. “And what is it?” you asked giggling. “Chinese, of course” he rolled his eyes. “Alright, but you call!” you pointed a finger at him as Michael nodded, getting up to go change out of the clothes you’d worn for the day.

Michael was quick to grip your hand to offer some sort of support as he saw you falter in your step, almost falling back down on the couch, while getting up. “Is everything okay?” the concern in his vice was clear. You squeezed his hand, waiting for the dizzying sensation of shock to pass and your sight to go back in focus. “Yeah, yeah” you reassured, slowly opening your eyes. “It’s been a long day” the smile you gave him was meant to ease his nerves, but Michael couldn’t help but worry as he watched you make your way to your room with a hand constantly pressed to the wall, in search for stability.

That evening you weren’t as talkative as usual, in fact, Michael did most of the talking. He told you about how one of the strings of one of his students’ guitar had snapped while he was tuning it for him and hit him in the face but had to laugh it off with tears in his eyes, his friends, the latest news. You just said it was a chaotic day at work, that your boss had yelled at you so much you thought your head was going to explode. He hugged you tight, offering to go and key her car if needed, which made you laugh softly. Feeling very tired, you excused yourself out of the usual Friday movie marathon. Michael smiled sweetly, saying it was okay and wishing you goodnight. He really is the best ever, you thought as you went back you your room.

The only way you could describe what happened when you woke up the next day was a nightmare. You almost though it was. You wanted to roll around to turn your alarm off, which even on Saturdays woke you up so you wouldn’t waste the day away in bed, but found you couldn’t. The motion was second nature to you, literally managing every day with your eyes closed, however the immobility of your torso made your eyes crack open as the alarm kept on going off.

Michael, on the contrary, liked to sleep in on Saturdays, so when he heard your alarm keeping on blaring he got off the bed and marched towards your room. When he opened the door he found you hopelessly trying to reach the alarm over on your nightstand but failing miserably. “Will you turn it off?” he huffed, going over to do it himself, yawning.

“I’m trying!” you snapped back, trying to sit up and failing. “I can’t feel my torso” you reasoned out loud, feeling the panic slowly set in.

“What?” Michael asked concerned, his eyes wide, as he took a seat beside you on the bed.

“I don’t know” it was safe to say you were confused. “I think it’ll go away, it may be the stress” you were trying to find a possible answer, pushing back the fear as best as possible.

“The stress?!” he exclaimed, his arms flying up. “You can’t feel half of your body and you think it’s stress?” clearly, he wasn’t as good as you were at rationalizing.

“Mike, it’ll go away” you voiced, his tone wasn’t helping you remain calm, his doubts the same as the ones you had but were trying to push at the back of your mind.

“Do you want me to help you sit up?” he asked then, offering his hands to hold onto. You nodded, slowly letting him help you with the motion.

Over the next couple of weeks, mostly spent in bed or on the couch and always requiring Michael to help you with every movement, the situation seemed to get better and worsen at the same time. The numbness was, in the span of a day, left behind in favour of wobbly legs and dizziness, you were always fatigued and tired. You had taken more days off of work in three weeks than ever since you started working. But just when you thought you had made it out of the woods, everything went downhill.

“It can’t go on like this” Michael sighed as, once again, he picked you up from the floor when your right leg had failed to support your weight while standing up from the couch. “We’re going to the ER” he stated, looking at you in the eyes.

You gulped, seeing the worry in his sparkling greens clear as day. Truth was you were worried too, but you were always used to downplay the discomfort you were in, brushing it off as if it were nothing. However, this was going too far and scaring you to your very bones. Nodding you agreed and he helped you prepare a bag in case you had to spend the night at the hospital, praying you wouldn’t have to, as silent tears made their way down your face.

Michael hated to see you like this, you were always so cheerful and bright, this was really taking a toll on you. He heard the quiet sniffles coming from you when he entered the room, finding you where he’d left you on your bed, folding a shirt into the duffle bag next to you. His heart had been held captive in a painful clench the last few days, the worry truly never leaving him and the confusion messing with his head. He took a seat next to you, putting his own change of clothes in the duffle, and taking your hands in his. Bringing them up to his lips, he left a light kiss on your knuckles.

“We’re getting you through whatever this is, alright?” he could hear his own voice faltering, watching as more tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m right here” he assured when you threw yourself into his arms, holding you tight. Next thing you knew, he was picking you up, almost forgetting the duffle and going out to his car. You made sure to turn off the lights and lock the door behind you.

The hours that followed were a whirlwind, dragging you down and down until you were sure you hit rock bottom when finally the results of all the tests and consultations with the doctors came to an end. All that you were sure of was Michael’s hand holding yours, fingers intertwined, when you were called back into the doctor’s office, from the waiting room full of other patients, and your legs failed to support you. Your best friend was the first to be at your side, followed by the doctor herself and a bunch of people in the waiting room. You couldn’t understand a thing that was going on, too many voices talking at the same time as you were sat on a wheeling chair and finally brought into the office. The diagnosis hit you like a slap in the face and you were sure you only heard half of the words that left the doctor’s mouth. “Multiple sclerosis is common at your age” “We will have to run more tests to make sure of what the complications you’ve developed are” “In some cases it is very hard to diagnose, but looking into the symptoms you’ve described and MRI we were lucky to find out right away” “Unfortunately, it was pretty quick to affect your legs, clearly causing an impairment we need to assess” “There are ways to help you regain the ability to walk independently, if you’re lucky”

She’d used the word lucky a lot, you’d noticed, while talking. Unfortunately, you didn’t feel like that at all.

Calling your family to tell them the news had been extremely difficult, knowing that they were far away and could only visit so many times took a huge toll on you. You hated to admit to yourself that the positive outlook you’d always had on life was quickly fading in favour of judgement-clouding pessimism. The first night back from the hospital you’d spent crying after days of not letting a single emotion shine through. Hearing your sobs shattered Michael’s heart and it only got worse when he entered your dark room and held you as you shook, gripping his t-shirt in tight fists and wetting it with salty tears. He’d seen you at your lowest and he was determined to bring you back.

Making you listen was hard, the wall of hopelessness you’d built around you seemed insurmountable, but Michael was as determined as ever. He wasn’t about to let you fall any deeper into the pit of anger and frustration that never seemed to leave you.

“Have you listened to what the doctor said?” he asked pushing your wheelchair through the park near your apartment building. It was a beautiful day and he was determined to get you out of the house.

“No, Mike, I was tired” you mumbled, looking over at the kids running after each other in a game of tag.

“The more you refuse to move, the more it’ll hinder your exercises in physical therapy” he reminded, stopping near a bench so he could sit down and look at you in the eyes while having this conversation.

“Yeah, and what am I supposed to do?” you snapped. “Waltz out of this fucking chair and go for a jog?” you pointed to a pair of joggers who were about to pass you by.

“Well, one day you might be able to!” he insisted, making you shake your head with a scoff.

“And what if I’m not? What if I’ll never walk again?” you wanted it to sound harsh, convinced of what you were saying, but your voice betrayed you, breaking at the end.

“What if you do?” he asked back softly, hoping that his point got through to you. And it did. You took in a shaky breath, looking away from his hopeful eyes, not bearing to see how much he’d believed in you when you didn’t.

Michael was there for you through every up and down: he held you when you couldn’t fall asleep because your anxieties and worries were eating away at your peace of mind, he was there to listen when you listed all the reasons why you believed you wouldn’t be albe to do this, always offering reasons why you could right back. He came to every appointment of physical therapy you had, he was with you every time you had to go to the hospital for check-ups or visits and was also there when it was explained to you that you had Relapsing Remitting MS, which meant that you would have episodes or spikes after periods of time without any new symptoms and it was a possibility that you could slow down the progression of the condition and manage symptoms, possibly walking on your own again if you were consistent with medication and exercising.

And while you were still worried, you couldn’t help but stare at the doctor with wide eyes. “R-Really?” you asked her, a smile threatening to slip at the mere thought of being able to stand for more than two minutes without the help of anyone.

“Really” she confirmed as an elated sigh escaped you, Michael squeezed your hand, happy to see you hopeful.

It became routine for you two, when he came home from work right about when you shut your computer off as your part-time shift ended, to immediately start exercising. He was happy to finally see you as combative as you once were, determined to fight this off as much as possible.

“You gotta!” he reminded with a laugh from his spot beside you as he saw you panting on the yoga mattress in the middle of your living room.

“I don’t wanna!” you whined covering your eyes with your arm. He chuckled, lifting it slowly as you peered up at him with one eye opened.

“Come on, it’s the last set!” he encouraged and you huffed, knowing he was right. Propping yourself up on your elbows you looked at his adorable smile and rolled your eyes. Michael helped you up, slowly walking you to the wall, and stopping a foot away from it. He eased down with you into a sitting position as you let your back rest against the wall, finally letting go of you.

“Look at you, walking up to the wall without tripping!” he crossed his arms over his chest, smiling as you silently counted the seconds you needed to keep in position for. You chuckled, seeing proudness in his eyes. Once the squat exercise was over, you stood up with wobbly legs, only one hand resting on the wall behind you for support. You smiled widely upon seeing the look on his face.

“You can stand on your own?” he asked a little shocked as you nodded. “Since when?” he smiled brightly, quick to offer his help to walk back to the couch and sit down.

“Yesterday the phone was ringing, it was my mom, I forgot it on the shelf behind my desk and you weren’t at home, so I just… tried” you shrugged. Michael scoffed with a bright smile. “I almost tripped, but I fell back on the chair before I could”

“Atta girl!” he hugged you tight. “I’m so proud” he rocked you from side to side, making the both of you giggle.

It was taking incredible effort but you saw the improvements every day, slowly there was no need for you to hang on to the parallel bars at you sides as you hesitantly put a feet in front of the other, walking the short distance. There was no need for your nurse, or Michael, to help you stand up from a sitting position and you were even able to stand while you prepared your cereals in the morning before your best friend helped you walk to the dining table.

Slowly, Michael was able to go back to his normally longer shifts at music school as you found it easier and easier to move through the house either with crutches or, on the days when you were too tired, with your wheelchair.

“Need help?” Michael asked as you were in the kitchen microwaving some popcorn for your movie marathon.

“Nope!” you yelled back, leaning against the counter as you waited for the device to beep, crutches at your side. “Okay, maybe” you second guessed once you put the popcorn into the bowl.

Michael was quick on his feet, entering the kitchen with a lopsided smile, leaning on the door frame with one shoulder as his hands went to the pockets of his basketball shorts.

“Can you take the bowl?” you smiled sheepishly. He chuckled, nodding as he complied. “Thanks” you blew a kiss his way, steadying yourself on the crutches and making your way to the couch. Michael stayed back, watching you.

“Staring is rude” you snickered, sitting down and laying your crutches down on the floor.

“I wasn’t staring” he defended, making his way over. You cocked an eyebrow at him with a smirk.

“I was admiring how far you’ve come” he added, bringing some popcorn to his mouth as he sat down.

“Sure, Clifford” you laughed, reaching for some popcorn too.

“I’m serious!” he exclaimed. “Eight months ago you barely wanted to get out of bed, now you’re walking around the house and are basically a fitness instructor” you scoffed as he giggled.

“Just wait till new symptoms show up in a few years” you sighed, pressing play on the movie. Michael snapped his head in your direction, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, no, don’t talk like that” he almost scolded.

“Mikey, it’s fine, I made my peace with it. My life is always going to be like this” you gestured to the crutches and the wheelchair in the corner, shrugging.

“No, it’s not” he couldn’t help but raise his voice a little, disbelieving of the words that were leaving your mouth. “You’re taking back the life that this tried to pry from you, you’re fighting and it’s working. You’ll be able to walk again soon and if new symptoms show up you’ll learn to monitor them and make them your bitches”

“My bitches?” you couldn’t help but let an amused snicker out. You saw the left corner of his mouth tilting up, trying to keep the laughter at bay, after all, you were too.

“Yes” he said resolutely. “I’m helping you through this, remember? Every step of the way” it wasn’t time to cry, you reminded yourself, pushing back the tears as you nodded.

“Thanks Mikey” you let your head rest on his shoulder, sitting back. He just left a kiss on top of your head, resting his cheek against it as you both focused on the movie playing.

“Michael, come here!” you didn’t like to scare him, you really didn’t, but when he slowed down the fast jog he made over to you room, panting slightly and ready to help however he could, a glint of panic in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel the need to suppress your laughter. “Stay there” you said, watching confusion grow on his face, as he settled by the door.

“What’s wron-“ you shushed him before he could finish, slowly sitting up from your bed. Michael watched as you stood up without the need to hold onto anything, starting to walk towards him without needing any help. His mouth opened in surprise and you smiled, finally reaching him.

“Hi” you said, a feet away from him. You didn’t have the chance to see his glassy eyes, full of pride, because he was quick to engulf you in his arms and pick you up to spin you around just once, as you giggled elated. He held you tight, his face hiding in the crook of your neck.

“Are you crying?” you asked slightly amused, feeling your skin getting wet.

“No” came the muffled response from him. “You did it” he whispered, still not moving.

“It’s not the end of anything, but by the looks of it… I can walk on my own now” you said, bringing a hand up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you for never giving up on me”

“Thank you for not giving up on yourself” he sniffled, finally looking at you with probably the brightest smile you’ve ever seen him display over the course of the last year and a half. You smiled too, a single tear of joy running down your face which Michael was quick to dry with the pad of his thumb.

He left a sweet kiss on your forehead. “We need to call everyone!” he jumped up in joy only seconds after, making you giggle, taking you by the hand like he’d done over a million times by now and walking with you to the living room.

“You need to chill” you said, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“Never!” he exclaimed, quickly searching for your mom’s contact. He really was the best, you thought looking at the one who had been by your side through one of the toughest of times and was sure to be there for you for anything that would come your way in the future, with a sweet smile.

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daydreaminghaven · 5 years

Text

I needed a rant

I'm just going to write this down because I don't know how else to deal with this at the moment. My roommate is an asshole, it's gotten to bad that at this point I'm literally on the verge of tears. She is inconsiderate and rude and I don't know what to do. Sometimes my gut just tells me to go fucking punch the shit out of her but I wont because I'm better than that. I know for a fact that she could never beat my ass and it's not like I'm scared of her it's just that I'm scared of losing this home. I don't want to move anymore and if I do result to violence I'll be out and who knows where I'll be next? The last thing I want or need is too be in another fucking group home which will be right where I'm headed if I lose this place. '

And what could make me come to all of this? When I first met my roommate I knew we were not going to become close friends it was like I could see the future. You know when you meet someone and you just feel their negative energy? Well it was like that with her. Nevertheless, being that I just came out of a hellish rehabilitation program it was a miracle that I somehow was given a foster home. Foster homes are very, very rare for someone my age- especially coming from someone who was currently in a rehab. All anyone wants are little kids, and as a matter of fact my foster parent even admits she wasn't going to take me because she herself only wanted young kids. The only reason she took me is because I have an interest in church, quote me.

If I had to go to a group home then so be it, but now that I'm here I don't want to lose what I have. The problem with group homes is that they occupy too many people. Just imagine what its like to be living with 5-9 teenage girls mixed in with 3 or 4 tired, angry under-payed, overworked staff members (that switch out 3 times a day) all under the same roof. It's not pretty. There's ALWAYS fights, there's ALWAYS drama, ALWAYS something weather it be someone running away, two or more girls not getting along or a staff member not doing their job, or overstepping boundaries; there is constant stress. All. The. Time.

For someone who likes solitude, quietness, this kind of environment is- it's just horrible. It's already bad enough but then mix in someone who can't handle that kind of lifestyle and it can worsen their mental health, it can lead to self harm, suicidal ideations or worse.

Once upon a time I used to be able to handle group homes, I just moved along when the drama happened, it was frustrating definitely (not just for me but for everyone), but it wasn't unbearable. But then I moved... And I moved again. And again. Then I started getting more fed up with it, then I started breaking down more easily, and self harmed, attempted suicide. I started to runaway, and use drugs... And every time I moved the staffs/therapists/supervisors seemed to care less and less and it was so frustrating. There were so many rules but so much unacceptable behavior slipping right under the rug!

And there was pretty much nothing you could do about it.

Then I got put in that rehabilitation and residential program which was some of the worst times in my life. It was like a bad group home to the max. You thought 9 teenage girls was bad? try 18-29. Together, all fucking day. No phones or internet, you had to be cut off- you couldn't even have a diary or pass notes without it needing to be checked everyday. You can bet there was fights and drama all the time, you couldn't leave the campus at all until months after you arrived. Not even mentioning that there was a strict schedule when to, sleep eat, shower, have mandatory groups that everyone hated. The staff in these places was even worse, virtually EVERYONE hated their job, and the staff in programs are allowed to put there hands on you if deemed necessary, and oh-fucking-boy did they. That power was abused way to fucking often but you want to try to run away? Straight to jail for 90 days just to get sent back and have to start all of your progress over from scratch... or possibly get sent to an even longer program.

These programs are technically 6 months but most people end up there for 8 to 9 months. You are given a set of 5 'levels' or 'phases' that you have to complete in order to get discharged from the program. Some kids are lucky and their insurance runs out and their parents can't pay to keep them there. I wasn't that lucky considering my parent is the state of fucking Florida. I'm grateful to be able to have good insurance and all but fucking hell that place was bad. Due to having to move to a switch different program 5 months after I was sent to my first program (over something that wasn't my fault, it had to due with medication issues which is a whole other story), I had to start all of my progress over and start the levels off from scratch. I spent 8 months in my second program making 13 months completely cut off from society (did I mention you weren't even allowed to watch the news?). That’s where I spent Christmas, Halloween, Mothers and Fathers day, even my birthday. I was discharged just two fucking days after my birthday. Just two. Anyways, the point is, I worked really, really hard to prove that I was responsible enough to get a foster home and I did. Even though my roommate is a fucking asswipe dealing with one girl is better than 9. At least I can kind of ignore her. But It's just so hard to act like it's not that bad she’s always

-touching and stealing my belongings -throwing actual garbage with bloody tampons in it over my ART SUPPLIES -always calling me disgusting and dirty when this bitches side of the closet -smells like fish -talking dirty to boys late at night (I don't want to hear about how you want to eat his ass. Stop it. Get some help.) -using my towel that I bathe with to clean the floor with BLEACH FUCKING BLEACH -USING MY LOAFERS AND WASH RAGS -plays loud angry rap music, or movies at full volume all night, usually until 2am, -or really early in the morning to wake me up WHEN SHE OWNS FUCKING HEADPHONES -Talks shit about me to everyone that comes through the door of this house (and loudly)

and I’m over here basically kissing her ass because anything is better than those fucking group homes. And I've tried to ask her to stop, or turn down her music, I've tried confronting her- and peacefully and respectfully but she either ignores me or gets violent. I've tried tried telling the foster parent, my therapist and no one is doing anything. I'm backed up into a corner. Like I said before, I'm not scared for my life, this bitch is like 5'3 (no offense to short people) but like I could kick her punk ass any day- and I would if I number 1.) wasn't trying to better myself and number 2.) cared about this home so fucking much. I just don't know what to do except pray and try to focus on other things. I wish I could just sleep in the living room. I keep breaking my headphones because I have to sleep with rain noises or something to drown out whatever she decides to play. Can you believe she has the audacity to wake me up just tell me to turn down my headphones when she tries to sleep? Like they aren’t even big headphones they are 6 dollar earbuds how loud can they be?! I do every single time though because I'm trying to 'stay blameless in Gods eyes' because I believe in karma and also if I didn't she would probably do something really petty like purposefully play loud music to wake me up even earlier or play it all night so I can't sleep.

It really sucks. I have to live with this person for 110 more days (and, yes, I have it marked on my calendar) but one day she'll be gone and I wont have to deal (or smell) this person again. So hopefully I'll have some more learned patience by then.

The whole reason for me even righting this is because yesterday she asked me to turn the light off in our room when I'm not using it (which is understandable, except you're never home anyways nor do you pay the bills) and of course when she came home the next day I made sure the light was off (did I mention the reason I'm not in the room when she comes home is because I avoid being in there when she is? My foster parent apparently thought that was important enough to report to my therapist like I have problems-But when I tell you whats actually going on you don't do anything about it so like...). Then today when came home I asked her to close the door when she goes in the room, while she was going to the room (because I can still hear whatever she plays from the living room). Guess what? She looked right at me, then walked to the room which is right across the living room and left the door wide open ON PURPOSE. Later on she said that basically it's not her job and that if I want it closed then I need to walk over and close it every time she leaves it open. It pissed me off so much that I just needed to write my feelings out because there isn't anything else I can do about it. Maybe when I'm older I'll look back on this and think 'wow look how strong you are now' and hopefully by then I'll be in a position where if someone is being an outright dick I can punch the shit out of them on the spot- I mean deal with them professionally.

just 110 more days Jasmine, you can do it. Do it for yourself girl do it for your boo thang

#what do i do #i need advice #advice

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