#not even getting into my own health and work stress on top of everything else
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are we talking about broke therapists yet?
I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.
Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.
After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.
Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.
Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?
I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."
Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?
I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.
Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.
At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.
I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.
I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."
My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.
All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.
Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.
I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.
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Your dream spouse vs. the real one ❤️🔥
You & your Destined fs 🌙
Take a deep breathe and pick a picture you feel most drawn to.
Disclaimer : tarot is not 100% accurate, this reading is just for fun. Tarot does not substitute professional treatment of any kind. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of my readings. This may not resonate with everyone. Please be mindful of your own actions and thoughts ♡
I'll be very straightforward with whatever comes through and if you're not comfortable with that, please don't read this post.
Pile 1
Your dream spouse ❤️🔥 ‧₊˚
TW ⚠️ : tr*uma bonding.
You want the bad boy/girl type husband/wife. Someone who is impulsive, daring and savage. You may want someone who is your perfect match, and very compatible with you. You desire to bond over trauma with someone. You know those couples who've seen each other's most vulnerable sides. You want a very romantic and caring connection which goes till soul level. You may also want someone who is famous or well known or even who has power and command in the society. You like big surprises. You want to take care of someone who has been emotionally broken down or sad. You want to comfort a sad person. You want a spouse who has old money. You know that trope when there is a powerful person in the society, who's famous and all that, but they have love missing in their lives. You want to be that love to your spouse. You want a deep and intimate spouse who's cold to others but warm snd loving to you only.
Your real spouse 💓 ‧₊˚
33 and 66 can be significant. Your real life spouse is someone very hardworking and honest. They may like to socialize or be with family and friends. This is a very cute and homely energy. Your fs can be someone well known in their field for what they do. They are a family person, someone who's purpose is their family. They believe in long term commitments. They don't joke around, they want serious commitment or else don't enter their life. They may like to meditate or they are calm and composed, they don't seem to lose their cool easily. They are energetic and quick to make changes. They can be an engineer or in business. They are funny and cool. Their personality is very easy going and smooth. They may have emotional outburts a lot of times, but they don't vent it out on you. They may sometimes unknowingly disturb people and then get sad snd walk away when someone tells them something. Despite all of this, they can be of a very giving nature. They donate and do charity work a lot. They sometimes may have limiting beliefs that stresses them out.
Pile 2
Your dream spouse ❤️🔥 ‧₊˚
You want your spouse to choose you over any other girl/guy. You wanna be their top priority over anything. You want a mysterious spouse who only opens up to you. You want someone closed off from the world. You want a romantic person who is just like a gentleman/woman. Very caring towards you. You want an happily ever after with your fs. You want to have a rich and happy married life afterwards. Your fs may have a other women's eyes too on them. And they would choose you. You want a rich and wealthy fs.
Your real spouse 💓 ‧₊˚
Your fs may have many expectations of others on their shoulders which constantly makes them fight for themselves. Alright, this person is unhappy with their family or something. They get really sad about this. They somehow gather courage to do what others want from them. But they don't like it. And this is taking a toll on their mental health and making them hate everyone and everything. This thing came through so i told you. Let's get some more cards about their personality.
They want a stable and committed partner with a long term vision. They can be a hardworking person. They are undergoing a transformation right now with the death card. They are pretty emotional and romantic. They have the ability to give lots of love to you.
Pile 3
Your dream spouse ❤️🔥 ‧₊˚
You want to meet your spouse by destiny or fate just like kdramas. You want someone romantic, caring and loving to you. You may want someone who is like a reward to you. You want someone emotional, you wanna share an emotional and deep connection with your fs. You want a lawyer by profession? You want someone dominating, loyal and family oriented. Someone who works on a high position and offers you stability. You dream of a happily ever after marriage life with your fs. You want someone to heal or fix your broken heart. You want someone who listens to you without telling anything. You want someone rational as well as emotional, a balance of everything. That's good, actually. You secretly desire a soulmate for yourself.
Your real spouse 💓 ‧₊˚
Your fs may have two sisters. Your real life fs is someone who has a lot of options and choices in love but still, somewhere their heart says that no, there is someone else meant for them, that can be you. They're waiting for you. They are someone with a strong will and determination. They always act fast and logically. Whatever They're doing right now, they are starting someone new and afresh, can be a new start in life or work related. Their feminine energy can be a bit imbalanced right now. There is something which stops them from being expressive of their emotional side. This may be due to some childhood issues by a female figure i see. They are facing this blovk right now. But they're working on it.
#tarot reading#tarot blog#tarot cards#tarot#tarot and astrology#pick a pile#tarot community#tarot asks#tarotblr#pick a card#tarot pick a card#pick a picture#future spouse pac#future spouse reading#future spouse#fs#divine feminine#divine counterpart#the divine masculine#divination#girls with tattoos#witchblr#kalki tarot#witchcraft#psychic readings#timeless#psychology#pac#kpop tarot#kpop reading
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I’ve Got You | JJ Maybank x Reader
Pairing: jj maybank x f!reader
Word Count: 3.1k
Summary: struggling with financial burdens, y/n starts to crumble under the pressure. jj notices the girl he loves is hard on her luck, so he does everything he can to help fix it (requested)
Warnings: descriptions of financial struggles and depression, mild swearing
Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request
A/N: hello everybody! it feels great to finally get out my first fic of the new year! things have been kinda crazy irl so I haven't had a ton of time to write, but I just wanna say I appreciate all of your support and patience. when I got this request it really hit home, so I hope the user who requested this enjoys! in other words, I can't wait for s3 of obx to drop this month, I've missed my blondie <3
It was all beginning to be too much. You aren’t quite sure how much more of this you could handle.
Flopping onto your bed, you try your best to not fall asleep right then and there. You’ve just gotten home from a long shift at work, and to say you're drained would be an understatement.
You're not really sure where it all started. At one point you were fine, dealing with finances and typical life whatsits, when suddenly it all came crashing down.
Bills and necessities started pilling up and for some reason everything seemed to be getting more and more expensive. You were doing everything you could; taking on another job, spending less, even selling things you no longer needed. None of it seemed to help, though. You feel like you're being buried under all the pressure, and it doesn't help that it's starting to take a toll on your mental health.
Days and days went by where you would do nothing but go from one job to the next, come home and do what you needed, and then fall asleep. It was all starting to blur, you can't even remember what life was like before this all began. It makes you feel so sad and stressed, but you're not quite sure what else to do.
You're supposed to be hanging out with the Pogues tonight, and you'd promised you'd go since you've missed the last three hangouts to either work or catch up on sleep, but you're struggling to even keep your eyes open right now. Honestly with everything going on lately, you haven’t been one to want to socialize anyways. You can feel yourself pulling away from your friends more and more, but you feel as if you can’t do anything to stop it.
Turning over on your side, you grab your phone and check what time it is. It's early-ish. You could totally rest your eyes for a bit before you get up. Today was just so exhausting, it felt like you pulled a double because one of your co-workers called off and you had to do all their work as well as your own. The whole thing was a total nightmare.
It wouldn't hurt to drift off for a while. If you're a little late to the hangout later it won't be the end of the world. Everyone would probably just brush it off. So far no one's caught on to what's happening in your life and somehow that soothes you. You'd hate to worry any of them, they each have their own problems to deal with and you're not gonna add to the list.
Everything would be fine eventually. Although, from what you can see, it all seems far from fine.
*****
There's a rapid and consistent buzzing coming from your left side, and the feeling has you bolting out of bed.
It takes you a second to regain your balance and whereabouts, but as soon as you do you find yourself filled with panic. It’s darker out now, much darker than it was earlier.
When your eyes adjust to the brightness of your phone you see notifications on top of notifications of missed calls and texts. They’re all from the Pogues wondering where in the hell you are. You were supposed to meet with them hours ago. Shit.
Quickly, you open the groupchat you have with everyone and send a simple but honest text.
Had work today and passed out as soon as I got home. Didn’t realize how late it was. Promise I’ll be at the next hang, sorry!
Hopefully it’s enough to ease their minds. It’s not like you lied either, you really did have work and passed out. Just because you didn’t wanna go in the first place doesn’t mean it’s any less valid.
The thought sort of jars you. You can’t ever think of a time where you didn’t want to spend every moment with your friends, whether it be to surf, party, or just sit with each other. You frown at how much things have changed. You miss-what feels like-the old days, you miss the old you.
Your phone lights up with countless more messages from the Pogues as they take in your response. It's all a bit overwhelming. So, too tired to care you silence your phone and toss it aside. Just like everything else that isn't work, sleep, or bills; you could deal with it later.
Stomach growling, you decide you should get up and try to find something to eat. Making your way to the kitchen you think over everything you have to choose from, which isn't much.
Opening the fridge, your thoughts are further confirmed. It's practically a ghost town in this thing. You haven't had a chance to stop at the grocery store lately so there's not a whole lot to make. It's not like you have the money to go anyways.
Sighing, you close the fridge door and try to be creative with your limited options. Before you can even start to brainstorm though, there's several knocks at the front door.
Your eyebrows knit in confusion as you wonder who in the world it could be. You're definitely not expecting anyone, especially this late at night.
Slowly creeping to the front door, you nearly jump as more incessant knocking rings out through the house. Looking through the peephole your nerves both settle and start up again at the sight.
It's JJ. You know exactly why he's here before you even open the door, and that thought alone makes you nervous. You really don't feel like explaining yourself any further than what you sent in the groupchat, but it looks like that's finally starting to be unavoidable.
"JJ,' you say as you open the door, feigning as much joy as possible to try and throw him off. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? Y/N, what are you doing here? You were supposed to meet us hours ago and you never showed up."
The blonde lets himself in as he brushes past you. Blinking several times at the sudden intrusion, you close the door and begin to repeat yet again why you weren't there. "I told you-"
"No, don't. I don't want to her that bullshit excuse you sent in the groupchat because that's exactly what it is; bullshit."
Irritation flutters through your body as you take in JJ's words. "It's not bullshit, JJ! I did work today and just like I told you I passed out afterwards because of how exhausted I was! I can show you my damn timecard if you don't believe me."
Rolling your eyes you start to open the front door again, thinking it's high time JJ left. He's definitely overstayed his welcome if this is how he's gonna act.
"You know what? I think I would like to see your timecard. How about you show me all your timecards from the past week, month even!? Because it seems like all you do now is work."
The boy's words stop you in your tracks, hand on the doorknob. "I-I do not work all the time." You wince at your lack of confidence. You don't dare to turn towards JJ, knowing he'll instantly be able to tell you're lying.
"Yes you do, either that or you're lying to us, to me, about where you are every time we try to hang out or when I'm just checking in with you. There's clearly something going on." JJ's tone goes soft, concern seeping through his words as he continues. "Please look at me, Y/N."
Slowly, you turn towards him. You're trying your best to fight back tears, every instance of JJ or the others texting you flooding your mind. Every time you told them you had work when they tried to plan something or when you would cancel on them at the last minute when an extra shift opened up.
You thought you were doing good with hiding your problems and your excessive work and sleep schedule, but clearly you were wrong.
"There's nothing going on, J. I just get a lot of shifts at work, it's no big deal." Your voice gives at the end and you clear your throat to try and cover it up, but from the look on JJ's face, he's not believing any of it.
"C'mon, don't you think I know when there's something wrong with my girl?" The endearment has your eyes shooting to his, another sudden rush of emotion clogging your system. It's all too much to hold in, and you can feel the dam about to burst.
JJ apparently notices this too, because not a second later he's rushing forwards, his arms wrapping around you instantly. His warmth and familiar scent circling you.
The tears fall freely down your cheeks, soaking into JJ's soft, cotton shirt. Weeks worth of pent up emotion ravages your body, leaving you shaking and drained.
JJ leads you to the couch, sitting you both down but not letting go of you for even a moment. "Tell me what's wrong. I can't stand to see you like this."
Looking up at JJ, you try to regain your composure as he wipes away the tears on your cheeks. The subtle brush of his thumbs across your skin has you feeling warm and safe.
It's evident by the look on his face that the blonde isn't going to let this go. He'll sit here all night with you if he has to, that's how much he cares and how much he's worried about you.
There's a part of you, albeit small, that knows you should've confided in your friends about everything going on, should've confided in JJ at the very least. After everything you've been through together it should've been a given that you couldn't keep something from him for long.
Shaking your head, you try to think of where the hell to start. How do you just come out and tell someone you care so deeply for that you're struggling financially? Mentally? And that you have been for months?
Considering you don't even know where everything began, you just try you best to recount when it all started weighing heavily on you. You tell JJ about all the bills, about taking on a second job just to barely make ends meet. You tell him how depressed you've felt, how closed off, how tired.
It makes your heart hurt how JJ's eyes gloss over, how he shakes his head and scoffs in disbelief over everything. You know you're struggling badly right now, but to see how it effects someone when you finally say it all out loud makes it seem so much more real.
"I can't believe you've had to deal with all that, that you're still dealing with it." The blonde takes off the red hat he's wearing and runs his fingers through the waves that have been hidden there. "Why-Why didn't you tell me?"
Shrugging your shoulders, you bite your bottom lip to try and hold back the tears threatening to spill again. "I guess I just thought it wasn't worth it. I know you guys have things of your own to deal with, especially you, and I didn't want to add on any more burdens."
"Hey, no, none of that." JJ shakes his head and reaches out to hold your face within his hands. "Don't ever think that you can't come to me with something like this. Sure I've got a dead beat dad to deal with, but that's nothing I can't handle. I wouldn't let anything come between me being there for you. You're not a burden, not even a little bit. Especially not when you're dealing with something like this."
Overcome with emotions, all you can manage is a nod along with a smile, your heart feeing so full and so unlike what's it felt like for ages. Although everything is far from being solved, it's nice to know you have people to lean on, that there's someone who would do anything for you when it feels like you've been alone for so long.
Removing his hands from your face and wrapping them around you once more, JJ hums into the side of your head and you can't help but to let out a long sigh, trying to let go for just a moment and be here. It feels good to be wrapped in the Pogue's arms. To be honest, you could stay like this forever.
Before long, your mind is back to worrying about everything going on, about your difficult situation and how there seems to be no end in sight. "What am I gonna do, JJ?" You whisper while holding the boy a little closer, needing to feel grounded somehow.
Devastated by the broken sound of your voice and heartbreaking situation, JJ does his best to rack his mind of what he could do to help you. He'd offer you all the money he's got, but he knows you'd never accept it, not even as a gift. You're too proud and selfless to ever take money from anyone, especially not your best friends.
The boy grows restless, frustration and sorrow coursing through his body as your story replays in his mind. He can't wrap his head around how this has happened to you. Sure, it's not uncommon for those who live in Outer Banks, but the fact it's you rips him to shreds.
JJ thinks back on what he did when he was strapped for cash. Back to when he had to pick up the slack every time his old man went on a weeklong binge and didn't go to work for weeks on end. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind and the blonde rushes to offer it to you.
"What if-what if I talked to my boss to see if we can get you a serving gig or something where I work?"
You look up at JJ with skeptical eyes, not sure if what he's saying could really happen. "I don't know, J. I mean, are you sure? I tried to get in there when I was looking for a better job, but they weren't hiring."
"Yeah! I know I'm shit for a busboy but my word is good, and with your references you'd definitely get in! One of our servers just quit to go back to the mainland because she couldn't handle island life anymore, so it's perfect!"
You can't help the giggle that slips past your lips. This one sure has a way with words.
"C'mon, Y/N, it would be great for you. The pay is way better than the jobs you have now and the servers even get tips. You wouldn't have to have two jobs anymore and could worry a little less about bringing in money. The worst thing you'd have to deal with is the Kooks, but you know how to handle them better than anyone." A coy smile plays at the edge of JJ's pink lips. "Plus, you'd be able to see me a lot more too."
"Okay, I'd love that, thank you" you reply shyly. Looking away from JJ for a minute, you can't help the doubt creeping in all over again. "What if it doesn't work out, though? What if your boss already found someone. I can't be without a job, JJ. I need to make sure-"
JJ grabs your face, holding it in his hands just like he did earlier. The warmth instantly filling in the cold spots the fear began to create. "They didn't and you won't be. No matter what happens you still have the two jobs you've got now, but hell I'd quit and let you have my job if it means you can stop struggling with those. I mean it when I say, I've got you."
The boy flashes you a smile before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, doing anything to try and get you to feel better. Luckily, it works. You smile back and lean into one of his hands as heat rushes to your face.
"You really know how to make a girl feel better don't you, Maybank?" There's a hint of teasing in your tone, but you truly mean it as well. People may say JJ is a lot of things, but they can never say he's not a good friend.
"Anything for you, baby," he winks. Rolling your eyes, you push away from the blonde before he can get too cocky over the way he makes you feel. There's a smirk on your lips as you walk back towards the kitchen, stomach fluttering for more reasons than just being hungry.
Opening the fridge, you try to scrounge up an idea for what you can offer JJ. "You want anything to eat or drink? There's not much but I'm sure we can think of something."
"Yeah, starved! Forget cooking, though, you don't need to do all that. Let's go to The Wreck, you know I would die for one of Mr. C's burgers."
Laughing, you nod your head as you close the fridge and make your way to the front door. "That actually sounds amazing, let's go."
"Hey," JJ says, stopping you as you put your shoes on. "And don't worry, it's on me."
Tilting your head to the side, you look quizzically at the boy in front of you. "Kie's parents don't even charge us when we eat there?"
"Okay, yeah, but it's the thought that counts, right?"
"You're such an idiot," you laugh. JJ smiles at the sound and at the sight of your eyes gaining back a little bit of that sparkle he hasn't seen in a long time.
"But you still love me, though," he replies, not even needing to ask if that's true as he opens the door for you.
"I sure do."
As you make yourself comfortable behind JJ on his motorbike, you do your best to try and get your mind off everything. It's been hard to feel any sort of ease for as long as you've been dealing with this stuff, but with JJ it feels like for once you can just settle.
You have no idea if JJ's serving idea is gonna work out or what's gonna happen tomorrow. But you know at the end of the day you'll still have him, still have your friends, to help you figure it all out.
It's hard to open up about it all, but there's a part of you that knows it was the right thing to do with JJ. He's the greatest person you've ever met, and you wouldn't trade him for the world. And just like he said earlier, he's got you, and that's all that really matters.
#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank fanfic#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank angst#outer banks fic#outer banks imagine#obx x reader#jj maybank#outer banks#requested
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is it frowned upon to wish that one could dissociate or have an alter take over in moments that are awful and stressful? genuine question
Hmmm, this blog is really more intended on reviewing and sharing media about complex dissociative disorders, or could easily be related to CDDs. Certainly not an advice blog for this or anything else > < I think any more general questions about DID can be forwarded to @sundropglass (main blog) if at all, just to stay on topic here.
But since you asked, I may as well share my perspective a little bit. I urge you to read it all.
Of course it's something anyone would want. Shut off and let the stress be taken care of for someone else? go off to fairyland a bit? It's actually an extremely sophisticated way of functioning in the midst of trauma; tuck it away, get through the thing that you might otherwise feel like you're dying from.
But where does that stress go?
Say that you had a very stressful day. Maybe one thing after another kept going wrong. And all day, there was absolutely nothing you could do because you had to carry on with a smile on your face and act like everything's fine, while more dismays pile on top of you. Maybe on top of that, you end up having an argument with a loved one and now you have social anxiety and no sense of safety or relief.
This is not out of the norm. People live very stressful lives all the time. It builds up though, all that stress is piled into your immune system if you don't have any release.(Expressing emotions in a healthy manner) It comes out in the ways that maybe you get ill, or spend all day in the bathroom, or get a migraine. This is what we call the body keeping the score (a book I should read tbh). What the mind doesnt handle(dissociates from), the body will.
This is what people with CDDs regularly go through. Trauma = stress that's beyond your range of coping. Chronic trauma means chronic stress, just stored away in pockets upon pockets where its never dealt with until much later in life. This is why I don't think I know a single system who doesn't have some sort of chronic health issues. The initial trauma may not have killed them, but maybe the health issues that come from all this chronic stress might just finish the job.
This isn't even addressing what the disorder implies mentally.
Look up the symptoms of PTSD, look into personality disorders, attachment disorders, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation. Any trauma-based symptoms could come with a CDD, because there's nearly nothing special at all about DID or OSDD. They're not sectioned off 'incredible' disorders as much as media or people on the internet will imply. We are normal people who have been hurt. A lot.
We have this disorder because no one came to save us, so we had to turn to ourselves, sometimes at an extremely young age. There's no measuring the amount of hurt it takes for a young child to feel this alone.
Going off this ask alone, but because you wish you could dissociate to such the intensity as you're suggesting, tells me that you haven't actually. Daydreaming or spacing out is a very minor case of dissociation, but the level at which you're having alters would imply that you're hoping to dissociate much further than you actually think you want. Do you not want to recognize your own spouse, or be completely unable to be present in the best moments of your life? This doesn't shut off when you're happy again.
Say fine fine fine, yes yes yes to all of this, you could deal, because at least you'd be another person who would bear the responsibility for you.
I hate to tell you this, but that's not how alters work. They are, at the end of the day, still part of you. They don't magically whisk away all this stress they face, they'd still hold onto it, be strongly effected by it, and you're a lot more likely to have the same stress come back over and over again and go unprocessed because of the fragmentation involved.
If it's to ease off some of the responsibility of being yourself, then.. Well that's not what happens with DID either. Those of us with a CDD tend to feel overly responsible for everything around us, actually. It's not the escape you're hoping for.
In a short answer: Yes it is very believable to want this disorder, to want alters. That's understandable even!
But I'm also going to say this is frowned upon. There is a LOT more to these disorders than some spacing out and some cool characters. I hope you can understand a little more why this mentality is frowned upon; no one who has it actually wants it when it comes down to it
BUT i HAVE GOOD NEWS FOR YOU ANON!! Please listen
It's okay to want to be someone else to get through the stress. It's even okay to turn off your brain and space out. These are natural human things. Just.. They don't have to be a disorder. There are some recommendations for coping that aren't hoping to have a CDD, but might suit you if you struggle with this:
Try to analyze your life and see what it is that's causing you so much stress that it makes you want to not exist in such a way. If you're in a bad environment that you can't change, there are still little things you can do to make it better for yourself
Are there things you CAN change? Maybe you can look into getting professional help or finding a new job, or even so much as regularly tidying up the space you're in
Look up coping mechinisms and grounding techniques
Take breaks and let yourself really unwind. Read a book or go outside and look at clouds or something until you feel calm. I promise this feels way better than dissociation
Fun Coping Tools That Feel Like What You Want Out Of Dee Eye Dee:
create a story in your head. If you come up with a world all your own to explore, it feels like having an inner world
Create original characters you can "be". By this I mean be imaginative like when we were all kids. >>Here's a really cool version of what adults can do if 'playing pretend' seems too childish for you<<
Have some staring out a window time. Just let your mind go for a bit
None of this has to be disordered to be helpful, and have nearly the same effect that you're hoping for.
If you are at a point where you want to not exist for suicidal reasons, I really urge you to get some help. There's always someone who wants you to be around, even if thats some time in the future.
#askies#dissociative identity disorder#why yes I did word vomit on this sorry! I have some feelings about it#I think my blog does a not so great job at showing the harder parts of DID becauseeeee Iiiii am reviewing media thats not always accurate#I want people with CDDs to feel less alone in representation but it is far from wanting others to have the disorder bc its fun#actuallydid
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Hiya, how are you doing today?
1. "it's just a fucking [object of phobia/irrational fear], stop being so childish."l
2. caretaker has their own issues so whumpee's sometimes get swept under the rug
For the bad caretaker prompts, please and thank you!
Hi! My day’s been decent enough. I didn’t actually reblog the bad caretaker prompt list (you probably meant to send this to someone else lol), but I’ll do this anyway cause it’s fun and I always want prompts!
Caretaker has not slept in three days.
This, unfortunately, is not the first time, and it won't be the last. But it is the first time they've gotten this sleep-deprived since letting Whumpee move in.
Normally when things get this bad, Caretaker handles it on their own. They like handling it on their own, someone else helping just means needing to worry about making sure they feel like they're helpful on top of everything else. And they would be able to handle it on their own, if Whumpee could leave them alone for two goddamn seconds-
They had been getting a handle on managing full-time work and full-time school and their health and keeping their apartment clean and maintaining social connections and- that's it right? Yeah. They were getting a handle on it, they had a schedule that worked, they were fine, and then their sibling called them crying and begging for a place to stay after years of radio silence (they ghosted Caretaker, their own sibling, with no explanation whatsoever, who does that?) and how could they say no without feeling like a monster? They couldn't. So their schedule is all messed up, and sleep is always first on the chopping block when they need more time.
Something happened to Whumpee. Caretaker knows that. When they first picked up Whumpee they had to take them to the hospital instead of home like they planned because they were badly injured (which they should've mentioned in the phonecall). They have scars they didn't have before and they wake up screaming almost every night. And more than that, Caretaker sees how much quieter they are, how they sit statue still instead of fidgeting like they used to. Caretaker knows something happened, but it's really hard to care when they're freaking out over something like-
"It's just a fucking frying pan, stop being so childish! Why can't I even make some eggs without you freaking out?? Why does everything have to be about you!? I'm not going to hurt you! I've never hurt you! Stop treating me like I'm going to snap at any moment!"
Whumpee's pleading stops. They are so still and so quiet. Their eyes don't leave the frying pan.
Caretaker drops the frying pan and lets it clatter to the ground, making Whumpee flinch. "There are bigger problems in the world than fucking frying pans! I have a life, Whumpee! Fucking- stop it, I haven't done anything wrong!"
Whumpee's eyes are still on the fucking frying pan.
"Unbelievable. I've done so much for you, you don't get to treat me like some sort of monster!"
Whumpee stays still and silent and focused on the frying pan.
"Whatever. Come find me when you're ready to talk like an adult." Caretaker storms off to their room.
--
They wake up hours later. Fuck! They don't even remember going to sleep, and they're so behind on schoolwork-
But that'll have to wait. They groan into their pillow. Why did they say those things??
Whumpee isn't in the kitchen where Caretaker left them. Luckily, Caretaker knows their favorite hiding spots by now, and finds them huddled up in the coat closet.
Whumpee flinches when they open the door, then squeezes their eyes shut.
"Hey." Caretaker sits down next to them. "I'm not mad. I'm... sorry I flipped out earlier. Are you okay?"
Whumpee seems to think about their answer for a long time, then shrugs.
"It wasn't okay for me to say any of that stuff. I didn't mean it, I'm just- I just took a nap and that's the first time I've slept in three days, and I have so much stress right now- but that's not an excuse. Just- it wasn't really because of you. It was because of those things. And me not... handling them properly. So I'm really sorry."
Whumpee doesn't say anything.
"I just... I can't do this, Whumpee. I can't. I can't handle my job and school and myself and the apartment and you. I want to help. I love you so much, Whumpee, but I can't do this. I can't give up my sleep to comfort you after nightmares, I can't- I'm not kicking you out. I just... I need you to find someone else to go to. When I can't be there."
Whumpee nods. "...okay." Their voice is still too quiet, nothing like how they used to sound. "I understand. I'm sorry."
"No, no, you don't have anything to apologize for. It's... fine for you to freak out over small things. You can do that. I was- I got defensive- I felt like you were blaming me. But you weren't, I don't think, you were just... feeling scared. So you can feel scared or feel anything and I'll make sure to remember you can be scared or sad or anything and it doesn't mean you're blaming me just by feeling it. I just... can't always comfort you when that happens. When you freak out over small things. I need you to be able to comfort yourself or have someone to call."
"I wasn't blaming you." Whumpee confirms. "It honestly... has nothing to do with you, usually."
Caretaker laughs. "Right. Nothing to do with me."
"It'll be easier when I'm healed more. I can't do work or school for you, but I can help keep the apartment tidy."
"...yeah. That would be nice." Caretaker really doesn't want Whumpee to help them clean- Whumpee always does it wrong- but now doesn't seem like a good time for that discussion.
The two of them are quiet for a while, but neither of them get up to leave. They just sit with each other, hidden away in a coat closet. It doesn't take long for Caretaker to fall back asleep, and for Whumpee to drape some coats over them in a makeshift blanket.
#whump#whump writing#thanks so much for the ask!#ask#bad caretaker whump#sympathetic bad caretaker whump more specifically#with an apology cause I love caretakers that fuck up and then apologize
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Absolutely. We are taught to gloss over emotions, so you feel wrong and weak addressing them. We also prioritize work and "the grind" above all else. So when a person is desperately trying to be the best they can at work (especially with a new job) they ignore mental health because they always assume they are doing something wrong if they have past work trauma. And already existing mental illnesses blow up. It's even worse if you are already neurodivergent. A nuclear explosion with stress added on top trying to care for a family, pay bills, try not to collapse financially, which is completely another problem altogether in this country. We ignore it because we can't afford it. I couldn't afford to go unpaid and have an invisible illness cost so much. But my body decided for me and benched me longer because I didn't take care of myself, I started having panic attacks over and over, became actively suicidal, and ended up in the hospital for over a month. You don't have a choice. You have to get better before you can look after everyone else.
Catch it EARLY, look for the signs. Look for your own cues. Write and develop a crisis plan and figure out what those cues are. Tell those around you WHAT your crisis plan is.
Because November and December were my own personal hellscape because I tried desperately to push through. And people around you don't get that. They won't understand when you don't act like yourself, or can't concentrate, or are going nonverbal at work, or start to dissociate. They attach your value to how you are during a crisis or are affected by your mental illness, when your entire system is going haywire, your whole body hurts, and you can't function. That's what they remember about you. How you are when you're deeply broken.
That's why you try so desperately to hide it. But it backfires if you do that. I am very fortunate because I work with people who are deeply compassionate, and just understood without me having to say anything more. And my boss even picked it out... he knew that I wasn't myself. He knew I was sinking but my stubborn ass wouldn't relent because EVERYTHING is on the table this year, and it all depends on me whether or not my position, my program in the school district will even exist next year. If it fails, I will be utterly heartbroken.
I am better now. While I was in the hospital we found a med combination that works better than anything has for years. I am back to work, and I am joyful about it.
You have to ask for help before it reaches that point, though. Call RESOLVE, call your local hospital and see if their psychiatric unit has an intensive outpatient program. This is the fastest way to get psychiatric care, besides getting a therapist and having them recommend something. But if it gets bad enough, admit yourself. (It's not that bad-- it's not the place that sucks, it's how you feel when you're in there.) Don't let it go as far as I let it...to where my life was hanging in the balance. I was almost there. Every bone in my body almost broke, permanently. And I wouldn't be here anymore.
#take care of yourself#go to therapy#talk about how you're feeling#take your meds#and drink water#depression#anxiety#mental illness#mental health#bipolar disorder#schizophrenia#bpd#adhd
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Feeling very down right now, just want to vent...
(Treating this like my old Livejournal since I don't really have anywhere else I can complain LMAO)
I've been out of work since August after completely running out of FMLA.
Between getting severe COVID in February and being out recovering for 6 weeks -- and then with Long COVID making the chronic fatigue and migraines I already had even worse -- I ended up missing so much work that I used all the time FMLA allowed before the year was even half over.
I'm living with my parents now and don't really have income except my savings; honestly most days I don't have the physical or mental spoons to even contemplate applying for even a part-time remote position yet. Thankfully I also have a retirement fund I am slowly cashing in, even if that also isn't really sustainable long-term. (But me losing my insurance will definitely be an issue soon when I run out of refills for my prescription meds...)
I'm aware that I've been pretty isolated since August; I've gotten maybe like two texts from former co-workers. I'm mostly asleep during the daytime and don't drive, so going out is hard. The person I consider my BFF is out of state and is busy with their own life. The only people I talk to most days are my Mom and Dad. (Admittedly, I am also pretty terrible about calling or texting people!) Tumblr has thus been the majority of my social interaction, for good or ill.
On top of all that, my birthday is this Friday and I always find myself depressed anyway this time of year. Like, it's probably half Seasonal Affective Disorder, and half a reminder that I'm a year older and having mixed feelings about where I am in life, IDK... But the current situation of *gestures vaguely at everything* isn't helping. So I am very blergh in general.
My parents and I had made vague plans a couple weeks ago that we could all go out for dinner on my actual birthday; nothing fancy, maybe the nearest sit-down Mexican restaurant. I was kinda looking forward to it. Mom just informed me that she is now unavailable after 5pm on my b-day itself since she offered to babysit kids for someone in their church that evening and night. We can't do it tomorrow night either, because Mom & Dad will be at a craft show from 4pm to 10pm.
And... it's fine, I guess. I'm disappointed but I'm an adult. I'm not gonna throw a tantrum or yell and cry or try to guilt her about it. She brought me flowers from the grocery store as a sort of peace offering and says we can still have cake or whatever. We'll probably do something on Saturday instead.
But EVERY YEAR, it's something. Last year, it was the cheesecake I asked for as a birthday cake getting dropped on the way into the house from the car; over half of it was smushed and then Dad stole the best remaining slice for himself. The two years before that, it was during the worst of the pandemic so I just had mediocre delivery food. I literally cannot remember the last birthday I really enjoyed in over a decade and half.
Another big source of anxiety right now -- we found out have 60 days to move since the leasing company is selling this house. So we have to find a new place, be packed and then move by January. Meanwhile home inspectors, realty agents and potential buyers are walking through while we're still living here, and it's super stressful. Words can't express how much I hate strangers being here any and all days of the week.
I guess I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself. I'm not trying to be whiny or woe-is-me, but my mental health right now is uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Not Great (tm) 😅. I do try hard to be positive but it just takes so much energy and I'm stressed and a little numb.
Not really sure how to end this. I just really needed to put it all in writing as a journal-type situation so that I don't end up crying in real life LOL.
Current Mood: burnt-out 😑
Current Music: HGTV playing in the background
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Hi! Can I have number 12 with Jack Russell please?
A/N - AWWW, I love this for Jack! Thanks for the request, dear friend!
Beauty
Summary - Jack shows you the one place that brings you peace
Warnings - Just some fluff :)
“Jack, this is beautiful,”
“Thank you, my love.”
You hummed as you were sitting in front of a cackling fire next to a very still lake that looked like it was a picture out of a nature documentary book. It had to be, the clam waters that made the lake look like glass, the tall pine trees that were reaching up to the sky to attempt and touch the stars that glistened and twinkled, even the scent of the trees mixed with the rich soil beneath you, this place was picture perfect and breathtaking.
Jack placed a few more logs on top of the fire, embers floating to the sky as he hummed and rubbed his hands together, finally satisfied with the campfire that he made with ease as he sat down next to you on a fallen log, “I love this place, and I’m glad I brought you along for the weekend,”
“I’m honored, Jack,” You replied back as you laced your fingers together, leaning against him and feeling him press his head against yours. Iff there was one thing that you knew about Jack, it was that he loved having his own space to recharge and reconnect with himself. He loved this lake, tucked away from the highway but close enough where he could sneak in and out for the weekend. Jack knew the rangers in the park and helped them out a few times with monsters and beasts that would roam the area and cause mischief for the humans that wanted to enjoy the recreational park.
In exchange for driving out the monsters and bringing peace to the land again, Jack was given an unlimited pass to the park and could come whiner he wished. Of course he used his pass constantly, finding the place serene and peaceful for him to come to after a nasty werewolf transformation or bad monster hunting session.
Now he was bringing you to his special place, which moved you inwardly and outwardly. You knew his job was stressful, even dangerous and it made you worry that he would not be able to stay sane. But he told you about the park he would camp in, alone and simply enjoying the beauty of nature and the great outdoors, and you knew It was perfect for him.
He asked you to come with him this weekend, being a bit nervous to the notion that he would bring his girlfriend along to one of his sacred spots. You were shocked to say the least, but you couldn’t say no to him, not when this was a huge deal with him and how he lived his life privately. You rescheduled appointments you had that weekend and made sure everything else was taken care of, then with a pack duffel bag, you followed Jack to this place and never once regretted it.
“So, I have to ask Jack, why this place?” You asked him while he was getting out some supplies to cook the dinner he packed in the igloo next to the campfire. Jack grinned from the question, getting the cook grate over the fire before he worked on the meat that was store, “It’s a gorgeous place, don’t get me wrong. But still….why here?”
“I love nature,” He replied in a shrug as he placed the chicken and steak on the grate and then some of the spices at the ready on the side, “I’ve always liked nature since I was little. It’s a good place to not be distracted by anything else, the chaos of the city, all of it. Here, I can just be me…and it makes me think this place can be a small snippet of heaven, or some kind of it,”
“I can see that,” You hummed, looking at the lake in front of the pair of you with a soft grin, “It’s good to have a getaway every once in awhile, and mostly with you and all you had to deal with the past few times,”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jack reasoned as he seasoned the meat.
“Nothing that should be pushed under the rug,” You countered back at him as you rubbed his back with your knuckles, “Your mental health is just as important as your physical health, Jack. And to know that you’re taking care of it by coming here for a few days makes me happy and relieved.”
Jack blushed as you rang your fingers in his peppered hair. Jack hated getting compliments, maybe he was not used to it but it was not a normal thing for him to experience himself. So when you two beams fiends and started dating, even long after you found out about his profession and who he was, you would shower him with words of affirmations and compliments. He deserved it, and to see him blush to act like a silly school girl was just as amusing and amazing to experience. You then made it your goal to make sure to express to him how much he meant to you, whether it was your words or in your actions.
“This could be our place,” Jack hummed to you as the meat was cooking on the grill, leaning back on the log a bit as he wrapped you in his arms, the sounds of the fire cracking away and the night animals coming to life around you two, “I find beauty in this place, and now it’s radiant with you here next to me,”
You snorted and slapped his arm to make him laugh, “You’re far too corny,”
“You love it though! Don’t lie!”
“I do, and I would never lie.”
The End.
August Prompt Session
#jack russell x y/n#jack russell x you#jack russell x fem!reader#jack russell x reader#jack russell#werewolf by night fanfiction#werewolf by night#marvel fanfic writer#marvel cinematic universe fanfiction#marvel cinematic universe#marvel writing#marvel fanfiction#mcu writing#mcuedit#mcu phase 4#mcu fanfiction#mcu#fanfiction#writing#marvel
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It’s a really hard emotional and period day so this is a vent:
How stupid and desperate and pathetic was I to marry someone who treated me like shit (fuck you, you treated me like shit)….
Every time I see how much better my life is now: I don’t sleep on the floor anymore, I’m not in an active mouse or insect infestation, I can actually clean and have things stay clean around my place, I’m not second guessing stuff anymore, etc….
I sob and cry. With every success, I CRY.
I just cry.
I married them because I thought it would just get better.
I loved them so much.
I was so stupid.
And now I have everything I want except I don’t have a nesting partner, I likely won’t have a child, and I don’t know what I’m doing all this *points to my whole life* for.
I know that I have dedicated myself to healthcare, data analysis, service, etc.
I love that and I always will.
But I don’t have a family to go back home to.
Everything I thought I had with my ex was just an illusion.
—
Sometimes I don’t even know what love is supposed to feel like - the type of love it takes to be married and have a family.
I don’t know. I have never known.
—
I am working so hard to live a good life now. I dress nice almost everyday! I take care of my body. I eat. I clean. I do my job. I see my friends. I’m tackling doing my hobbies. My chronic health conditions are chronic but they’re so much better.
Yet I just want to move out of this stupid city, find a nesting partner, and START my life.
I feel like my life is at a standstill.
Why aren’t I traveling more? Oh right, because I’m tackling my debt and saving money for a baby I’m going to try to have ALONE.
It’s so dumb - and I feel so lost. Because I have a GREAT community of people here. Literally so many people coming to my bday parties this year just like last year.
I am so loved.
Yet. I don’t want to be in this city. I don’t want to live alone day after day like this.
I don’t want to yearn for a nesting relationship like this.
—
I know that I’m just gonna keep working on myself. What else can I do?
I have literally so much going for me. I have a girlfriend - it’s not a nesting thing BUT I HAVE WONDERFUL LOVE IN MY LIFE. What is wrong with me?
So I’ll just cry - I’ll cry on top of my mountain of privilege, my nice things, my wonderful friends, etc.
—
I’ll cry because I thought, at almost 34, I’d have a house and a baby and a wonderful lifestyle that was less stressful
And I just don’t.
—
I am just a divorced person (who passes as a woman even though they’re really a genderfluid femboy) in their thirties who falls in love too easily, is too gullible for their own good, and is probably going to die alone as a beloved socialite and “crazy” person who lives alone, paycheck to paycheck.
#a huge vent#again#vent#cw vent#I’m on my period#healing#neurodivergence#trauma#thoughts#crying#crying a lot#I wish I were happier#I wish I met the coparent
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to overshare from the second i could hold things if u gave me anything to write with & paper i WILL draw on it there will be doodles my grade school notes are covered in doodles my college notebooks have doodles in the margins ive posted the doodles from my work notebook & before i had this job i doodled at all my other jobs if u took away my pc & art tablet & all paper & tools i have i would suffer thru using ibispaint on phone the only thing that can stop me from drawing is my own health & everyone knows it so my whole life i was fed the "ur so good at art u should do it professionally" so i thought thats what i wanted to do until i actually took that year of college for art & found out it fucking sucks bc if ur new & want to go pro they dont want u to have fun with what ur doing they want to make u marketable some individuality is okay but dont get too crazy with it or no one will want to hire u & theres such a push for doing art "correctly" (which btw is not actually a thing; art is subjective there is no objective right or wrong to it) i ended up not caring at all & then dropping out. the only thing i got out of it was slightly better anatomy & learning how to use references & everything else was just garbage nonsense to me. the only class i cared about was not even an art class it was an ethics class. on top of that bullshit u then have to be ur own marketer & pr person etc its so fucking stressful even thinking about i want nothing to do with art professionally. this isnt a baseless opinion this is a "ive seen the truth & its not for me" opinion. u can be good at a hobby & not monetize it its okay to just have fun.
#unfortunately i believed i was a Destined Artist for so long i dont have any backup plans#fuck if i know what i want to do instead. but im not wasting money on something i know ill hate#but for now its nice to have a job thats easy & basically stress free i can go home & do whatever i want after just fine
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I guess it's greatly possible that I have a very... I don't know, skewed perspective about stuff like abuse and harm as a mentally ill person. People say stuff so broadly and I can't begin to describe how much seeing that stuff at my lowest points harmed me and made me worse. People are very good at framing things in ways that made me feel like they don't actually believe in people healing and doing better after making really huge mistakes. Because I made BIG ones and I regret them so fucking deeply. I am fighting with the concept of self-forgiveness because I've been taught that there's no retribution for shitty and abusive behavior.
I don't want to be so bold as to lay out what happened, but I guess I might as well. My wife is encouraging me and I've been wanting to talk about it, anyway.
Trigger warning for discussion of abuse, mental health, and suicide under cut.
Last year, when my mom started dying, I started declining very rapidly and severely. I don't think I've ever outright said this because of how I've been treated in the past for being open, but I have Bipolar I Disorder. I've seen doctors and therapists on an off over the last decade+ since my diagnosis. My struggle is a common one. I'm very typical of someone with extreme mood swings and psychosis. I most frequently experience dysphoric mania, which is where my psychosis typically rears its ugly head.
In these moments until last year, all of my shitty behavior mostly involved me expressing anger and frustration with wall hitting, throwing my things to break them, hurting myself, and degrading my wife. It was not always this way, but moving away from home and having an unforgiving job lead to me falling back off my medication. Over the last 3-4 years, I have become very terrible in my health and how I act when my brain overreacts to situations and stresses around me.
Then Mom got cancer.
I began having even more cycling, lots and lots of depression, increasing suicidal thoughts, and episodes. Bad episodes. One of the holidays I was meant to go see my mom, I had a serious meltdown because I was tired of going to see how much closer she was. It was hard seeing her dying. She was worse every time I made it out, and something minor had triggered another episode. I then locked myself in the bathroom and tried to kill myself.
My wife tried stopping me. I became physically violent and started saying really horrible things. This episode came to an end, and it seemed despite everything I had done very little physical damage to her by her own account. I do not remember much about what I actually did or said. It's like a faded dream I had once and only the outlines are left.
I had another episode I do not remember, triggered by seemingly nothing. She informed me later on I had hit her, and asked me why. I was unable to explain, because I didn't even know what she was referring to. I do now, but the overall details are gone.
Later on, not terribly long before she passed away, I tried to end things again. I recklessly drove to a graveyard on the back roads and began attempting to hurt myself. I started getting calls, my phone blowing up. I have some vague memories, but I am not sure if all of them are real. I do know I ignored my mom out of shame, but eventually answered my aunt. I think at the beginning I answered my wife and berated her before hanging up, but I'm not positive. I wanted to die more than anything else in the world. I was so angry. I don't even know why. My wife remembers how it unfolded, but ultimately none of it makes sense.
That was also the day my neighbor decided to pick a fight with me about my animals, which then snowballed in her repeatedly calling animal control, lol. Did not work out the way she wanted. She kept lying to them to get them out to see them, but they could never find the starving, tortured animals. What a fucking nightmare that was on top of everything.
My mom died, and I don't really remember how I felt or reacted or what I did during that time. It's difficult, and I think it's because I have been blocking it out as much as possible. Losing my mom was something I knew would be hard, but I deeply underestimated it.
Later on in the year, I did try killing myself again. Once again she tried stopping me, and even kicked in the door. It got more physically violent than the last time and I was more vicious and cruel.
Overall, I'm stuck with guilt and shame and self-hatred. Beyond these incidents, I lapsed repeatedly into despicable actions and behavior. I frequently feel out of control, but not everything I say to her is done in these extreme episodes where I'm trying to hurt myself. Rage is unfortunately a really major symptom for me, and it's activated by some of the dumbest shit. I feel like some things have become bad habits, and I'm constantly having to talk out things with my spouse because I cannot even imagine what it must be like to be on the receiving end of needless cruelty and vitriol.
I know what I have done is largely abusive and wrong. Things have been bad enough that I kept having long periods of not wanting help. All I have wanted is death, to not exist, to end what I'm feeling. Being angry is not fun. Being in pain sucks. Being sick is terrible. I am devastated by what I have done, but somehow my wife is holding strong and pushing me forward. Because of her, I managed to drag myself into getting therapy. I got lucky that someone in my local community is a therapist with the same disorder as me, and when she advertised openings I jumped on it, even though I didn't want to help myself.
Which is something key, that people bring up a lot online. People who don't want help are the worst, right? Irredeemable, it seems. I didn't want help. I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to die. I still want to die, but I've found a burst of driving force within myself and, as of today, I finally have an appointment with a psychiatrist to seek medication management. I cannot get any traction otherwise. Therapy has been helpful and my therapist is amazing, but there's no stability. I default to self-hate, guilt, and suicidality. I default to violence, though generally verbal excepting those instances of psychosis.
I can't grasp what I keep getting told by my wife and my therapist about being accountable but forgiving myself. It seems false. Impossible. It doesn't feel like I should, that doing that or pointing to my broken brain is appropriate. I'm always terrified what people will think of me if they know the truth of my struggles and how much I have hurt the person closest to me. My only support, because I keep distancing myself further and further from people.
In all of this, she gained friends that used me as a stop-gap for getting to know specifically her. It caused some rocky turmoil in our relationship. I blame myself for her mistakes there, because maybe if I hadn't been acting like a piece of shit, she wouldn't have felt so lonely. And they found out that things got bad, but not any of the details about it because they never asked or gave her a chance to explain when she wasn't distressed. I fear them and what they think of me. I fear them going out into shared queer spaces and telling all the queers I'm slowly trying to get to know that I'm a horrible abuser that beat my wife and controls her. Because they're not wrong. I don't feel like they're wrong, but they're also responsible parties in their own shitty behavior, but who would hear me after they find out I'm a terrible person?
It's... I suppose a bit self-centered, this paranoia. She tells me I don't deserve this, and that they don't matter. I'm trying to believe her, because if nothing else matters she does, and her opinions do. She has to live with me. She's married to me.
So I am untreated bipolar. It's a fucking nightmare. I fight with my abusive and toxic tendencies, that I fight to not participate in. But fighting back my unstable reactions to things is a chore and I become fatigued very often. I don't know why she endures for me, but she does. I love her, as much as I can. Sometimes I am numb, but she says she knows I love her and it makes me cry.
People are complicated. I have not always been very kind or empathetic. I only recently learned that having a hard time with empathy during mixed episodes is pretty normal for bipolar. It's not always. It's another thing that sees extreme differences depending on how I'm feeling, and I sure do feel too much too often.
I am healing myself as best as I can. I am working to do better and be better even while my brain persists on convincing me I don't want help; that I should just self-destruct. I am a human. I wish more people could see that part about me even when I'm not being a very good or nice person. I will be better someday, but it would be a lot easier if it ever felt like everyone else could give me the grace to fuck up while sick and still have room to take that accountability without feeling evil for my actions.
I have been a victim. I have been an abuser. Someday, I hope I can just be healed.
#this is long and was hard to write#of you arent going to be compassionate to the struggles my wife and i are facing i dont need the commentary#please grant me the grace of being able to post to my own blog about these experiences
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“Nights in Detroit”
Connor x Gender neutral reader
Summary: Since the revolution, You’ve been struggling to keep up with everything, and the stress catches up to you. Luckily, the perfect person help comes along and makes everything better.
And even changes the relationship you guys thought was already enough.
Warnings: Self harm, Angst (with a happy ending)
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The cold breeze blew against the skin on my face. I reached my hand to my mouth and put the cigarette I had in between my middle and my pointer finger to my mouth to get a hit of the smoke. The nicotine I inhaled burnt my throat and lungs, but it wasn’t painful. No. It was a distraction. A distraction from the hell I’ve been through this week. Its been at least 2 weeks since the android revolution, and life has been horrible since. Every single bad thought is back. And Connor isn’t getting better with his deviance. He betrayed his own kind, and stood against his creators. He betrayed himself and his own programming by becoming something he wasn’t supposed to be. He was human, whether he liked it or not. He was programmed to hunt deviants, not turn into one. And the feelings he’s feeling aren’t familiar to him, leaving him hopeless and afraid of whats to come. Helping him with his emotions is far from easy, especially considering the fact I have to perform top in my detective work to avoid the risk of being fired or replaced. RK900 could outdo whatever I could do having him be able to do one million tasks in just a few seconds. He was better than me. I need this job.
My own mental health isn’t going great. Everything’s a chore. Even getting out of bed. No amount of caffeine can help with this mental and physical tiredness. The nicotine isn’t helping either. The 3rd cigarette of the day now getting lit as I lean against a metal fence in an alleyway high up, overlooking Detroit. It was a beautiful place, but it wasn’t the place I wanted to go. I wanted someplace secluded and alone, and this is the furthest thing from that. Though I’ve met great people here.
“Detective?”
I hear a voice call out from the entry of the alley.
“What?”
I knew who it was. It was Connor.
I closed my eyes and sighed, putting out the cigarette on the fence. I stretched out my strained back and groaned. Tears forming in my eyes shortly after the stretch.
“I’m glad I found you here. Lieutenant Anderson told me you might be here.”
“Yeah, well he knows me best,” I chuckled a bit “What do you want.” Connor inched closer towards me. I knew he was analyzing me. He always did.
“Your heart rate seems to be higher than normal, and you seem agitated. Is there something the matter? I can leave if you need.”
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t want him to leave.
“No. I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”
“Oh. Okay then. Lieutenant Anderson asked me to check on you and make sure you were okay.”
“Well I’m alright, you don’t need to worry.”
“That doesn’t seem to be the case. You’re showing signs of poor mental health. And you’ve been pushing your limits and not sleeping lately. The bags under your eyes seem to be getting deeper. You’ve also been talking down on yourself, I’ve overheard.”
I scoffed.
“You’ve been eavesdropping?”
“No, that’s not the case.”
“Then what? No one else cares about my health, why the sudden interest?”
“I’ve been worried. Worried you might harm yourself again. I don’t want that for you, Detective. I care for you too much.”
I felt my legs tiring. There was a voice who wanted me to spill everything onto him. But he didn’t deserve that. I needed to keep it to myself, even if it meant ruining myself more.
“Connor. Please. Just leave me alone.”
“I’m not leaving. You even have fresh blood on your arm. Is that from self harm?”
“Connor.”
“Have you been cutting again.”
His sudden stern tone of voice threw me off.
“Connor. Please.”
Tears forming into my eyes, and slowly falling down my cold face. The salty liquid falling down to my mouth. I covered my face with my hand.
“I’m so sorry. I know how hard this must be for you. I know you never wanted to be born. I love you. I always have. Even if I refused to believe it, the feeling was always lingering. I just put it off. But it’s just there. Everyday I know how much you’re hurting and it hurts me. The cutting, the drugs, the parties, the alcohol, the self depreciation. You don’t deserve any of that. You aren’t useless and you certainly aren’t hated. I’ve overheard Officer Reed talking to Officer Tina about how he respects and admires your work. You’re such an amazing Detective. I’m so sorry the world has made you think otherwise, my love.”
At this point, I didn’t try to hide my face. The tears pouring down my emotionless face.
“Connor. I’m so sorry that you overheard me talking about myself. I,”
I thought about what I was going to say. What if he wasn’t being true? What if he doesn’t love me back? What if it’s just a prank?
“I love you too. So much. I cherish our time together. Every moment we spend together, it feels like I’m becoming better. Like my depression is gone. Seconds without you feel like years. I love you so much.”
He was only two feet away from me at this point. In the edge of my vision, I saw him reach his hand towards me. And then his other one. I turned to face him, and looked into his eyes and smiled. He knew I was crying. He leaned over to my face and kissed the salty tears on my cheek. As he leaned back to look at me one more time, I smiled and took his lips before he could mine. He stepped forward and wrapped his hands behind my back, and I put my hands behind his head, intertwining my fingers and his hair. He deepened the kiss as two more tears fell down my cheeks. His led on his temple glowing a beautiful blue. I broke the kiss and looked at his beautiful face and took in his pure beauty. His dark brown hair and his dark chocolate eyes which flourished perfectly with the city lights. The freckles placed perfectly along his face, and the strands of hair that fell down his forehead. He may be wearing his Cyberlife outfit, but he looked amazing in it. He looked amazing in everything. Even on Jericho, he looked astounding. Ethereal even.
I closed my eyes and huffed a bit, leaning my head down.
“Who programmed to do that?”
“I may not be the most advanced prototype anymore, but I still have a few tricks that Nines might not have.”
Laughing at the response, I looked at him once more. He smiled. And it was beautiful. When he first joined the DPD, his smiles seemed fake and forced. But now, they feel more human. More comfortable and more him.
“I love you, Connor.”
“I love you more, Y/N,”
#connor dbh#connor rk800#rk800connor#dbh fanfic#detroit#deteoit become human#connor x reader#dbh connor#fanfic
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A/N: Basically an excuse to write something fluffy and to write Scully x Mulder. Also, everything about religion comes from my own personal experience (changed a bit to fit the fic).
It had been quite a year. Starting college, finally finding a part-time job you liked, struggling to keep doing what you love and trying to not compromise your mental health in the midst of that. Now, it was finally Christmas. No more exams, no more end-of-semester parties, no more last-minute Christmas shopping. Just you, your mom, your dad, some turkey and mashed potatoes and the most beautiful Christmas tree.
Usually, on the night of the 24th, you would go to the midnight mass with your mom. You weren’t particularly religious, but you went anyway. Whether or not you believed in God and all that stuff didn’t really matter. It was more about spending time with your mom. The priest at your local church wasn’t half bad either. More open-minded than most even. Every year he would say something that actually touched you. Last year, it was about keeping in your prayers LGBT youths that get kicked out of their home and have to spend Christmas sometimes all alone. He even reminded people that they were accepting clothes, food and money to give to organizations that were helping them. It wasn’t a big part of the mass, but it was still a nice touch in your opinion.
But this year was different. You had worked all day, dealing with stressed-out customers, and couldn’t conceive staying up until midnight without taking a nap.
“I’m sorry, mom,” you said, “I’m just exhausted…”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she said, kissing the top of your head, “but you actually get some rest alright?”
“Yeah, don’t worry.”
“I’ll go with you,” said your dad, coming from the kitchen.
“Fox, you don’t have to,” said Dana.
“No, I want to,” he said, pulling her closer to him, “Y/N, you’re fine with that?”
You were going to sleep anyway, what did it matter.
“Yeah! You two have fun.”
As you were settling on the couch, finding pillows and the fluffiest blanket, they got ready to go out.
“Make sure the turkey doesn’t burn down the house,” called your dad as they stepped outside.
“Sure,” you mumbled, already half asleep.
After that, you fell asleep quite quickly. Not even the twinkling Christmas tree standing right in front of you could keep you awake.
You didn’t know how long you slept like that. When you woke up, you could smell the turkey was none ready. Well, all of dinner was ready as you could now smell the pie cooking in the oven. The tree was twinkling even brighter than before as the lights had been dimmed and slow music was playing. You looked away from the tree to try and find where the music was coming from when you saw them, your parents.
Your dad had wrapped his arms around your mom’s shoulder. One of his hands was resting on top of her shoulder as if it was holding her head but had gotten tired. His cheek was ever so lightly resting on the left side of her head. Even if he was well taller than her, it didn’t feel like he was towering over her. It was more as if his body was protecting her from the outside world.
Your mom had rested her head on your dad’s right shoulder. As they turned and she faced you, you saw that her eyes were closed. Her arms were wrapped around him, going back up until they almost touched his shoulder. She wasn’t exactly gripping onto him but it was clear she was going to let go.
There was something about this, about them, they made you feel so safe, even if you weren’t part of it. The way the Christmas lights were lighting them from behind, the music almost too soft to be heard, and the way they were holding each other like nothing else mattered made you feel calm and anchored after all you’d been through.
You lifted yourself up on the couch, sitting, trying to make as less noise as possible. As they turned again, you caught your dad looking at you. He smiled and winked. You just smiled in return. This was their moment. Just watching was enough and you didn’t want to interrupt it.
They kept on dancing and once again, your dad was facing you. This time, he mouthed for you to come join them. You shook your head and mouthed ‘I’m fine’ in return. He rolls his eyes, but soon enough, he’s out of sight again.
He never sped up the dance yet the third time he came to face you seemed to be there faster. Once again he asked you to come join them. You refused as he gestured for you to come. You wrapped your arms around your knees bringing them closer to your chest, making it clear that you were going to stay seated on the couch. But as your dad turned away, you caught the eyes of your mom. She smiled at you fondly before closing them again and burying her face in your dad’s shoulder.
And for the fourth time, your dad faced you.
“Come on Y/N,” he said, gesturing once more for you to come.
This time, you got up. He opened his left arm, letting you snuggle right next to your mom. As you joined their dance, he hugged the both of you tighter. Just as you were about to complain, your mom freed her arm and wrapped it around your waist. She kissed the side of your head. You giggled as she did so.
“Merry Christmas,” she said.
“Merry Christmas,” you answered, letting your head rest on your dad’s chest.
Your dad kissed the top of your head, mumbling something you couldn’t understand. He did the same with your mom, lingering there for just a bit longer.
#mindful-of-ideas#x-files imagine#mulder imagine#scully imagine#fox mulder imagine#dana scully imagine#x-files#x files#mulder#scully#fox mulder#dana scully#mulder x scully#scully x mulder
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So I saw a car drive down the road when I went out to feed the ferals tonight, I went down and looked, didn't see any road closed signs so I am ASSUMING tomorrow I should be able to leave my house to go to HEB. Surely city workers aren't going to be working on the weekend, right?
In before the universe clowns on me tomorrow and I wake up to more construction noises and people actually resurfacing the roads. It's weird, I didn't get like....ANY notice in my mailbox that I saw. No sign on my door either which I know the utilities company will do at least whenever they have to do service to the water or electric and there's some kind of interruption.
You'd think if they were going to close the roads I would have at least gotten something in the mail surely?
Meeeeeeeeeeh. I guess we'll find out tomorrow.
Taking two days off of work this week was definitely the right decision. I was a lot less stressed and worn out today. Let's hope it was just sleep deprivation because I really don't like or want to have to be taking mental health days every bloody month. I"m going to be chewing through my vacation hours quicker than I can accrue them if that's the case.
Alright I'm going to go concentrate on writing and NOT looking at more hot fanart of D&D characters. Someone pointed out Chris Pine's character name is Edgin and I am just DED. Because it's not pronounced like edging but it sure is spelled similarly enough for my '13 year old boy brain' which is typically where my emotional maturity level when it comes to most anything sexual lays. aka it resides in the gutter. Also apparently his ship name with Xenk is Xedgin which just looks like a 90's edgelord usenet name on top of it everything else and I just cannot take anything about this pairing seriously. And I am desperately trying to avoid just breaking and going to AO3 to see what no doubt terrible fanfic offerings there are to be found. I doubt there's anything SUPER GREAT because it's a new canon and usually it's like...mediocre at best and then you check in after a year and there's a couple of really good fanfics. I could be just prejudging but I've been a fanfic reader for a long-ass time even before I started to put out my own mediocre fanfic offerings. But if I am incorrect, please let me know.
I am also fighting the urge to take a dive into my dumpster of Artemis/Jarlaxle fics because talking about Forgotten Realms got me all kinds of nostalgic for my favorite trashy 'antihero/villain depending on how ol' Sal is feeling when he writes them' duo.
BUT I AM GOING TO TRY AND RESIST THE SHINY NEW HYPERFIXATION AND WRITE.
#life of el#dungeons and dragons: honor among thieves#bruh there has to be a shorter way to write this fandom name
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I decided to redraw an old fandom piece as an original, to use as a portfolio piece, because I'm really struggling to create new art. The only fandomy thing about it is what the character is wearing, and I've always liked the piece, so it seemed like a prime candidate for a redraw. It's essentially a bust in a style similar to art nouveau. Nothing groundbreaking, but it looks nice and I'm hoping it'll help me feel more confident in making something that is actually new.
It feels so strange though. I opened the file, made it mostly transparent, and went to start drawing a circle for where the head should be under the details... But it feels like im tracing someone else's work. Not in a "this is cheating" or "I feel guilty reusing my old art" way, because it's not and I don't-- I think this is a solid strategy to revive the very, very dead artistic drive I once had. The piece is just so different from my current "work" (or maybe lack thereof) that it feels like a different person made it.
Everything I've made, or more accurately tried to make, for the past several years has been made mostly out of desperation. I'm desperate to get into a school, get a degree, get out of my shitty job and into something less shitty at the least. It's killed my creativity over and over, I feel like the very few finished pieces I have made really do look and feel desperate and stressed, that it comes through no matter the subject. Everything recent is poisoned by the pressure of making something good enough to warrant scholarship, to so thoroughly impress someone I haven't met yet that they'll save me from my own miserable life.
This older piece was made because I wanted to make it. Because I thought it looked nice, because it was fun. I knew it wouldn't be for a portfolio ever, and though I wanted it to get social media attention, the stakes were exceedingly low. I wasn't happy with my life when I drew that piece either, but I remember making art all the time, I remember it being easier, something to do for fun. I say I remember it, because I know it was true once, but I don't remember what that feels like anymore.
This isn't burnout, this is something else. I'm 29, trans and too poor to transition, have living relatives but no "family" other than my partner and my best friend, and my life savings is $250 in a jar. I have no degree and seemingly no options, I'm more or less paycheck to paycheck. I work full time and my mental health is so horrific that there's little time for me to complete basic tasks, like eating and cleaning, let alone time to dedicate to practicing art and making new pieces I genuinely want to make. I filled out fafsa and qualify for less than 12k student aid, over 9k of which is just direct loans. I'm already in 10k student debt from being pressured to go to a shitty university fresh out of highschool a decade ago, and my credit score isn't great. I don't want more loans even if I could get them, but I don't have the talent or experience to get an art job without a degree. I don't have a real portfolio, my art is painfully obviously student level. I don't know what to do. I desperately need top surgery and I feel like I'm constantly putting off everything else in my life because I haven't "accomplished" either of these things, because I should be saving for one or the other, because everything costs thousands of dollars and I bring home like $400 a week killing myself slowly in retail.
I have a significant breakdown about my life almost every other week now. I'm really trying to go through the motions of what I should do to improve things, but it's exhausting. Instead of daydreaming about the life I want anymore, I just daydream about joining a cult so I wouldn't have to think anymore (I'm jealous of the Jesus people, it's a new low for me!) or think about really elaborate, convoluted ways to die (there are so many fascinating poisons!) I know I can't live like this forever, but I don't know how to make my life better fast enough. I really do want it to get better.
I guess if anyone sees this and has been in my shoes and lived to tell the tale, tell me what I'm missing. And for the love of god, don't say it's patience.
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