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microcosmiclymbic · 11 months

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Reasons #1-26 Why I am fighting for my physical and mental recovery:

1. Because my functional abilities have a lot of room for improvement. I can gain more access to the world so it would be silly not to

2. There are others with less access to personal freedom and they deserve my advocacy and I don't have spoons for that work right now

3. I want to actually play a game AND finish it AND enjoy it the whole way through

4. I don't want to remain so dependent on people or systems of power that aren't good for me. Especially not without a voice to advocate for myself

5. I want to travel AND by myself AND not get burnt out by the break in routine

6. I want to hike the Appalachian trail

7. I want to be able to fund people's crowdfunding campaigns

8. I want to become a really good Foster Parent. So I wanna be qualified to handle the kid's needs AND be capable of supporting them even after they leave AND have the capacity to adopt if needed AND support the parents/kids for reunification if ever desired and.... all that is a lot. I can't even take care of a dog rn. But I can learn and grow and gain the skills I need.

9. I need to divest. Which means I have to be brave enough to face the hard stuff AND kind enough to forgive mistakes AND disciplined enough to follow through with change even when it gets tough AND honest with myself when I'm doing wrong AND strong enough to stand against others AND.....

10. I need the spoons to build more spoons

11. I want to help build a self sufficient urban community as a safe haven for the disabled & divergent. So I want to be capable of managing a homestead AND solving complex accessibility puzzles AND raising funding

12. I want to playfully wrestle my lover

13. I want to enjoy sex. To laugh, gasp, be untriggered, unrushed. To experience new depths and new understanding

14. I'm curious about who I can become. Who I am for that matter

15. I don't want to ever harm anyone else again. And when I do I want to be capable of recognizing it. And when I don't I want to be able to listen when someone tells me I did wrong. No matter what I want to be capable of repairing the harm I have done. I want to end cycles

16. I want to gain health certifications. Personal training. Massage Therapy. Physical Therapy Assistant. Nutritionist. Nursing. I want to never stop gaining credentials that will inform and improve my ability to help others

17. I want to learn to prioritize my own needs. To never wonder if my cup is half full or half empty because I know I've already done what I need to fill it. I want to set a boundary the moment I notice discomfort and to do it with love.

18. I want to learn how to dance. To intimately know the boundaries of my body. To be in such close relationship with it that I have fluid access to movements that are enjoyable to me.

19. I want to go to a theme park without worrying about accessibility. Because I'm already experienced with all my needs and prepared to have them accommodated

20. I want to be able to cuddle for more than a few minutes

21. I want to be a good friend. To maintain a healthy friendship with boundaries, emotional intimacy, trust, communication, growth, joy. To build a container capable of holding every part of us.

22. I want to be a qualified crisis supporter for respite. Capable of holding space for someone in the midst of a mental crisis free from any carceral "support."

23. I have unique skills that deserve to be witnessed. Skills that are both known and unknown to me.

24. I'm honestly tired of being dissociated so dang much. I want to be present all the time. I want to notice the little things and feel grateful for them

25. I want to feel connected to other humans. I don't like feeling so deeply misunderstood and alone. And I know the connection needs to grow from me.

26. I want to be a vagabond like the crusty kids who came through with stories galore back when I was a sad little homebum. I wanna catch trains, hitch rides and yearn under a different bridge every week

#Recovery #healing journey #because I need some personal reminders for bad days #fibromyalgia #ptsd #recovery toolbox

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cocosnowlo · 1 year

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Is it winter depression, a relapse, PMS, bad life circumstances or am I just stressed - a comprehensive elaboration

#i have started feeling a bit better yesterday out of nowhere #I’ve been using up all coping strategies in my toolbox to deal with disordered thoughts and it hasn’t been successful for weeks #but then yesterday it was suddenly much less of a deal #now what to make of that? what has changed??#shitposting #ed recovery

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trinketguy · 15 days

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rebuilding yourself while processing cptsd is really hard and exhausting and sometimes means a solid month or two where you're at your worst before you get your shit together again. but i have noticed that i'm consistently at my best when i'm seeing my friends at least twice a week. sometimes it's hard to scrounge up the energy for social activities, but i've found it to almost always be worth it, even if it means i have to crawl in a hole for half the day after to rest. i will at least be resting with warmth in my heart

#friendship is an important tool in your healing toolbox #cptsd #trauma recovery

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gotham-ruaidh · 2 months

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b: I Sing A Song of Love ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15C: You Can Do This If You Try

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

Oh, take your time, don't live too fast Troubles will come and they will pass You'll find a woman, and you'll find love And don't forget, son, there is someone up above…

- “Simple Man”, Lynyrd Skynyrd (1973) [click here to listen]

“I really appreciate you helping me with this.”

Jamie shrugged, and took a long drink from the thermos of Gillian’s sweet tea. “It’s the least I can do. You gave me and Claire a place to stay this weekend. Away from everything. That’s a true gift.”

Dougal set his toolbox on a stump. “Thought you could use a bit of peace and quiet, here in the back country.”

Jamie nodded, and pulled his t-shirt over his head. “I think I’d forgotten what trees look like. Or the inside of a building that wasn’t an arena or a hotel.” He draped the t-shirt over the unbroken part of the fence, and bent to pick up one of the boards he’d hauled across the field in Dougal’s battered wheelbarrow. “The last time we were at a house was for our wedding – and it was Joe’s house, and we didn’t even stay there overnight.”

“I’m sure you’re staying in top of the line hotels, in their biggest suites. My guest room must be too normal for you and your bride.”

Jamie smiled, just a bit sadly. “I don’t know what normal is anymore, Dougal.”

Dougal fished in his pocket for a nail. “I won’t even pretend to understand what your life is like right now.” Carefully, methodically he hammered the nail, fastening the board to the fence post. “But I have to tell you, I’m so impressed you’re still sober.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “Oh, I can think of some reasons. Like, every single thing you were addicted to, is front and center of your life on the road. We talked about this a lot last year when you were with us at The Ridge. You’re back on the road – meaning, that all that shit is in front of you all the time again.”

Jamie nodded. “I remember. You said it wasn’t me you were worried about – it was everybody around me. That I was surrounded by people who enabled me.”

“Exactly.”

“Well – things are different now. I fired the bloodsucker that was my manager. I found Colum. I had some very honest conversations with him, and now all of those people and all the shit they used to put in front of me are out of my life. Plus, one very important new person is now in it.”

“And what does she make of everything?”

Jamie held up another board, and Dougal hammered it into place.

Giving him space.

“I thought I was ready to be back on the road,” Jamie added, after a while. “I really did. But I had no idea just how fucking hard it would be.”

He set the board against the fence post. Dougal began hammering another nail.

“And?”

“And…this time, I decided to just be open about it with everyone. It’s definitely gotten easier to talk about it – addiction, and sobriety, and recovery. And people do respect what I ask. They keep the substances and the groupies away from me. Obviously it’s still there – I just can’t see it.” He paused, thinking. “On the one hand I think they understand why I can’t be around that anymore, and they understand how terrible addiction is, and how fucking difficult sobriety is. But on the other hand – let’s be real, they know they have to listen to me and do what I ask. I’m the star of the show. I get what I want.”

Dougal took a nail out of his mouth, and hammered the other side of the board. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Jamie leaned against the fence post. “I think about it all the time. Drinking. Cocaine. Being in my dressing room with three girls at once.”

Dougal stood up straight, stretching. Squinting in the harsh midday sun.

“I don’t want to do any of that shit anymore, of course. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.”

“And what exactly does that have to do with your wife?” Dougal asked patiently.

Jamie’s eyes were inscrutable behind his aviators.

“Because I flash back to the shit I used to do, and then I blink and she’s there with me, in the same rooms where I used to get really fucked up. And she holds my hand, and tells me she loves me, and then I tell her everything.” He jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I can be straight with her, and she doesn’t care. She wants to know all of this shit about me, especially the shit I’m really not proud of. Because it helps her understand what I’m working on, and why I don’t want to be that guy anymore.” He cleared his throat. “Why I’m not that guy anymore.”

“What does she say when you bring up all the shit you used to do?”

Jamie pursed his lips. “I know it hurts her. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt her. But I’d hurt her more by not telling her the truth.” He ran his fingers through his hair – almost back to shoulder length. “And every time I tell her something, she tells me something. What it was like to go through high school without parents. Or one time when her miserable excuse for an ex-husband hit her and she fixed her own busted lip in the bathroom. How she’d do surgery while high. How she destroyed pretty much all of her friendships when the pills became the most important thing in her life.”

A blue jay settled on the fence, chirping.

“I didn’t want to tell her all the shit about me, and what I’d do when I was using. The man I was. I don’t want that to…to trigger her or anything, and compromise her sobriety. But because we share it, and we talk about it, it makes us accountable to each other to not fuck it up.”

“So as much as you depend on her for sobriety, she depends on you for hers.”

Jamie nodded. “We’re tied together in so many ways, it’s insane. We are addicts. We were at the top of our professions and we were miserable. We’re terrified that one day we’ll wake up and the other person will be gone. And…” he swallowed. “When we’re together, when we love, it’s…I can’t find the words, Dougal. We waited for intimacy until our wedding night. And I’m so fucking glad we did. Because if I knew what kind of magic we can create, there’s no way I would have ever agreed to go on tour and spend even a few hours every day away from her.”

Dougal leaned against the fence post. “You never think that this could all be too much for her? It’s a tremendous amount of pressure. And both of you being in recovery just complicates things.”

Jamie pursed his lips.

“It’s like I told you last night – she’s my high. Knowing she’s there. Touching her. Sleeping beside her. Loving her…all of that keeps me grounded and focused. I wrote a song about it, and it’s the fucking title track of the new album. She’s my addiction.”

“But is that asking too much of her?” Dougal pointed to the tattoo above Jamie’s heart. “You don’t want to develop too much of a dependency. She’s not a drug. I know that love is intense, Jamie – you know my story with Gillian. But neither of you should completely lose yourself.”

Jamie shifted uncomfortably. “If you’re asking if I have other ways to cope with the stress – I have my guitar, and I have my wife. And I have a few people like you, who I trust. Right now I don’t have much time for anything else.”

Dougal crossed his arms. “You need to make the time. If not for you, for her. Especially if you’ll be touring next year. Going all around the world, far from home – your stress levels will be off the charts.”

Jamie sighed. “They already are. I’ve been having panic attacks.”

Dougal sat next to Jamie on the fence. “Has that happened to you before?”

Jamie shook his head. “Not until this tour. And not every day. We’re in early September, and we’ve been on the road since May…maybe fifteen times since then.”

“Is there one particular thing that triggers it?”

“Not that we can tell. Thank God Claire’s a doctor – she’s helped me figure out when it’s starting, and she helps me get to a quiet place away from everyone.” He swiped his eyes beneath his sunglasses. “I usually end up not being able to breathe, and crying, and freaking the fuck out, and my wife is the only thing that physically holds me together. It’s fucking scary, Dougal, and it’s so not fair to her. It’s yet another thing that stresses her out. She has had so much shit in her life these last few years, I can’t fucking stand that she has to see me like that. Deal with yet another level of my bullshit.”

Dougal turned back towards the house. Watched Claire and Gillian on the porch, shaded from the sunshine, enjoying the rocking chairs. Watched William chase around their dog Bram, knowing it would exhaust them both before lunchtime.

“I’ll be straight with you, Jamie, because it’s what you deserve. Claire told Gillian about the panic attacks, and that you were considering bringing a therapist with you on tour next year.”

Jamie crossed his arms. The flames and flowers of his tattoos flexed.

“Gillian and I – let us help you find someone. Someone you can trust implicitly. With the panic attacks, and with your sobriety, and in managing all of the stress. Someone who can help Claire, too. Because the last thing you want, Jamie, is to be in some random city in some random country and it’s two AM after a show and Claire is somewhere else and some asshole backstage has left a baggie of cocaine on your chair and you have a panic attack. And you’re all alone, or with people who you don’t want to see you like that.”

Jamie scuffed his boots in the grass.

“More importantly, you don’t want Claire to start resenting you, for being the person to hold you together.”

Jamie, surprised, whirled to face Dougal. “I don’t think – ”

Dougal raised a hand. “I’m not saying she ever would. I’ve seen you two together. What you have…it can’t be described. But don’t you agree, that you don’t ever want to do anything to fuck that up?”

Jamie pursed his lips. “I promise her every day that I won’t.”

Dougal stepped closer to Jamie. Grabbed his sweaty shoulder. “Then let me help you. Please.”

Jamie slipped off his sunglasses to meet Dougal’s eye. “OK. Thank you.”

Dougal smiled. “Consider it our wedding present. Now come on – just a few more boards.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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shywhumpauthor · 1 year

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The Merry Whump of May—Day 2

“Need a ride?”

Wrench | Paranoia | Club

Masterlist

Cw: detailed descriptions of gore, all hurt no comfort, torture, heavy abuse, restraints, kidnapping, hand/eye/mouth whump, heavy dehumanization, broken bones, blood, amputation, implied death/murder, whumper turned whumpee, caretaker turned whumper, just be careful with this one friends

The garage light flickered.

Caretaker glanced up, their lips pressing thin together. It must have been years since they’d last changed it—if ever. They weren’t prone to spending time in the garage. Detached from the house, it served more for storage than anything. There had been a point where they had parked their car in there, but it hadn’t lasted more than a few weeks before it came more inconvenient to store it away than just leave it in their driveway.

Now, the garage was home to many boxes, bins covered in dust and stacked messily. There was a workbench against one wall, scattered with tools and stray nails. Their woodworking phase hadn’t lasted very long either. But that was alright. They found a different use for all the tools they had bought, birdhouses in mind when they had first gone to the hardware store. That certainly wasn’t what they had been shopping for the last time they had walked out of the shop, three bags weighing their arms.

Some of the stuff had been for Whumpee. A lock for the inside of their bedroom door, because the door to Caretaker’s guest room didn’t have a lock and they wanted Whumpee to be in control. Never again would they be on the other side of a lock. They had free rein of the house, Caretaker encouraged them to poke around and explore.

“It’s your house too, Whumpee. There’s nothing in here that will hurt you.”

They had bought a can of pale green paint, and a plastic sheet that they had draped over the bed, desk, and dresser Whumpee helped them push to the center of the room—though they weren’t particularly strong anymore, quite likely hindering the effort more than helping, Caretaker had let them. They spent the entire day painting the dull beige walls. Whumpee’s favorite color was green.

They bought lights, the kind that strung across rooftops when Christmas was near, a soft yellow glow, and they had hammered small tacks around the crown mounding to hang them as a surprise for Whumpee.

That hammer, they had bought too. They had one, somewhere in their indoor toolbox, but it had the build of a rock tied to a stick. They needed a better hammer than that, so they had splurged a bit. It was heavy and steel, a clawed end opposite the head. If Caretaker dropped it, it would likely shake the entire house.

It was a nice hammer.

The garage had a stale feel to the air, dry and dusty. It was cold outside, in just a month or so, Caretaker would have to start preparing for it to snow. They wrapped themself in a jacket before going out, a black pullover that they zipped and flipped up the hood.

They shut the door behind them with a slam, rattling the walls. A grin, a genuine smile curled across their lips at the panicked little whimper that cut through the dim room.

Caretaker didn’t think of themself as a violent person. Not at all. They were gentle and caring and nurturing—just look at Whumpee, seriously. Barely a month into their recovery, after years of captivity, torture, and conditioning, they were already beginning to show fragments of their old self. Little broken shards, but Caretaker could see, when they made Whumpee’s favorite for dinner, or invited them to curl next to them for a movie night, the little light that would flicker in their eyes. They recognized it. Slowly, they were putting the mirror back together, the glass that had shattered on its way to becoming whole.

They would never hurt anyone, especially not Whumpee. Caretaker was the kind of person who, if they found a spider in their house, would grab a cup and a piece of paper and move it out to their back yard, rather than smush it.

Caretaker hummed to themself, a single melody echoing through the exposed insulation like a cavern. They crossed the garage, after making sure to lock the door, to their workbench, where they pulled on a thick pair of gardening gloves. Something else they had gotten from the hardware store.

That place really had everything.

They stopped humming.

“You know what Whumpee told me today?” They spoke lightly, voice carefree, a tone that one might use when discussing their day with a partner over dinner.

“They told me about this one time, when they tried to escape, you made them choose. Either have both their ankles broken, or have two fingers cut off.” Caretaker tugged open one of the drawers, grabbing their new hammer. Not a single mark on it. Not even a scratch from the tacks or a dent. They set it on top of the desk, before reaching back in to grab a wrench, pliers, and a box cutter, setting it all in a neat pile. They turned to look across the room, leaning one arm against the desk.

They had cleared out a corner of their garage, moved all the bins out of the way to create an alcove of sorts. They had laid a tarp down over the cement, not because Whumper didn’t deserve to sleep in fucking cold cement for the rest of their life—however long Caretaker decided to drag that out to be. Only because they didn’t want to get blood on the floor. That crap stains.

They were so fucking pathetic, Whumper. Their hands bound in front of them, duct tape winding countless times around their wrists and forearms, inhibiting all movement. The tape snared around their torso, pinning their arms to their sides. Their legs were bound also, with a coil of rope, tied at the ankles, knees, and thighs, as tight as Caretaker had managed to pull it.

Their fingers were free, Caretaker supposed that they could simply reach out and grab something that could help cut them loose, but they’d taken care of that issue, weeks ago.

Their bones had snapped surprisingly easily in Caretaker’s hands. At least their pinky and ring finger. The other ones, Caretaker had to resort to stomping down on them, crushing the joints beneath their heel as they ground their boot against the flesh.

Now they doubted that Whumper could even twitch their fucking fingers. Crooked and swollen, blood trapped beneath the skin, knuckles split open.

They were covered in blood and grime, built up over weeks. Their skin was pale, mottled with bruises of all stages and colorings, slick with sweat. Caretaker had only taken them out once, dragging them behind the garage when they were sure Whumpee was asleep to drench them down with the back hose. They’d need to do that again soon. Their nose wrinkled as they stepped closer.

They weren’t blindfolded, but Caretaker doubted Whumper could make out much. One of their eyes nearly swollen shut, the other slit with a deep gash cutting from their eyebrow to their cheekbone, they weren’t seeing crap. They were gagged, though, an old cloth shoved in their mouth and secured in place with duct tape, winding around the back of their head. It couldn’t have been good for their jaw, which Caretaker had broken only a week ago. The teeth, a handful molars which Caretaker had first cracked and knocked loose with the hammer, twisted the rest of the way and ripped out with the pliers they now picked up, were certainly not feeling great now. They didn’t care. Really, it amused them to see the way Whumper squirmed and mumbled, incomprehensible sounds behind the gag that they were sure were pleads for either mercy or death—Caretaker supposed those would be synonymous by now though.

The funniest part, though, was something Caretaker had decided at the last moment. Whumpee had never mentioned anything about it, but Caretaker had noticed the bruises. The slight indented ring around their throat, only visible if you were really looking for it, finally fading with a special balm that Caretaker had spent a week’s paycheck to get. The shit was expensive, but it helped, and the scars—the older ones, at least—were finally beginning to lighten. A thick leather collar, one Caretaker had found in the pet care aisle. A small box on the back, two short studded prints jutting out into Whumper’s neck. The remote sat tucked in Caretaker’s dresser, the top drawer. It had a hell of a range. Sometimes they’d wake up in the middle of the night and twist the dial for no good reason.

Scratch that, there was a good reason. With Whumper, any reason was a good fucking reason.

They had been half tempted to buy a crate, as well, when they were at the store. One of those wire ones that would be uncomfortably small for any animal, let alone a human- if Whumper could even be considered that anymore. They certainly weren’t in Caretaker’s mind. But they had already spent more money than they should have, not that they were tight on funds, but Caretaker always liked to have at least a couple hundred emergency cash on their card, so they didn’t get it. Maybe they’d go back, after they get paid for the week. Toss a blanket over it, make sure Whumper was tied up as cramped as possible, maybe they’d shove a pair of noise canceling headphones over their ears, and let Whumper really suffer for a bit, left alone with only their pain to keep company.

“Their limp is getting better, you know, they don’t need the crutches anymore.” Caretaker stopped only a foot from the edge of the tarp, looking down in disgust. The hammer hung loosely from one hand, pliers and wrench and box cutter held together in the other.

“I think that would be equal to… ankles, knees, and four fingers? Five? Ah, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to lose them all eventually. I say we start with four, then if you’re still conscious, we can continue. Sound fair?”

Of course it did. Whumper wouldn’t agree, panic flickering through the small slit of their eye, some sort of whine swelling in their throat. But it didn’t matter if Whumper agreed. They didn’t get a choice.

Caretaker took the sound as an affirmative.

“You agree? Oh, Good.”

They dropped the tools, hitting loudly against the floor.

“I was thinking we’d start with the middles, remember how you broke Whumpee’s when they flipped you off?“

Caretaker grabbed the box cutter.

“We’ll take this nice and slow today. Whumpee’s staying the night at Old Friend’s place, so we have all the time in the world.”

They couldn’t keep the blood contained on the tarp this time, a trickle of red running off the edge and spilling onto the floor.

This was far worth having to clean up afterwards.

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@themerrywhumpofmay

There’s so many tropes I want to write for the rest of may but I want to write them all right now and I can’t decide aaaahhhhhh I’m probably going to end up writing nothing lmao

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rawliverandgoronspice · 2 months

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My time to invade 👏 2. Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

10. Top three favourite fic tropes. 28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing? 40. Write a 9-word fic. (Because SOMEONE inflicted this on me so I must inflict it on someone else)

Invade away!! (even though that LAST ONE!!!!)

2. Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

So I mentioned romance/smut, and it's not like I absolutely want to write that well (it's fine to have an uneven writing skillset I think) as much as I feel like that's a missing tool in my trusted toolbox of putting characters in Situations and examine their reaction. And as much as I know myself capable of writing characters isolating themselves and breaking down over time, and the occasional bonding moments and even potential recovery and rekindling of trust and genuine connexion that may ensue (I am an angst writing through and through u_u), I have a hard time letting characters being plainly happy and enjoying themselves and being vulnerable without being punished for it in some way. And it's a shame, because I love when authors manage to pull you alongside a genuinely good time and making you feel like you're building precious memories that will stay with you forever alongside the characters living through them. I'd like to be able to do more of that, and with less effort! Or just, plain unpunished vulnerability. I think that would be nice!

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

Hmmm in general I'm open to everything as long as it's good, but I guess if I had to pick...

I'd say Hurt/Comfort, I had pretty transcendant experiences reading really good Hurt/Comfort fics that kickstarted a lot of wonderful things in my real actual life, so.

Found Family Tropes (or just platonic/friendship bonds being explored in general, when it's well written it can be so incredibly excellent)

Experimental Bullshit. Aka plays with the formatting, temporality, point of view, crossmedia stuff... If you take fanfic as a genre/format and make it an active part of the text, I am kissing you on the top of your head.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

I think my core advice is pretty generic and maybe stupid, but embracing it helped me a lot so here it goes: there's no good or incorrect way to write. As long as it makes sense to your specific brain, it couldn't matter less whether it happens prettily or not. I tend to write completely out of order, sometimes across an entire project and sometimes in the same scene. I tend to write all of my dialogue at once, then put "//" and highlight it in yellow where I need to come back and add more text. It looks like hell. But I don't care: my brain feels constricted by linearity, so it makes sense, and so I let it happen and I actually write things instead of letting weird expectations about how one "should" write slow me down unnecesserily. It's been particularly helpful in cases where I actually *have* to write and can't afford a writer's block because of a deadline, etc. It's important to try stuff out and accept "bad" habits if they are actually just your own natural rythm.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

(argggh)

(okay so all of my attempts ended up at 12 words for SOME REASON so here's to the best I could do.)

Tetra promised the shore this time would be different.

(and another attempt (MidZel-adjacent!!! I tried!!!!), where I pulled an insane cheat but it wouldn't have fit otherwise I'm sorry ;;)

Lips dusted with mirror-shards, Zelda murmured: I know why.

#asks #writing #fanfic #midzel #tetra #thanks for the ask!!!#the last one is super challenging but a fun exercise!!#again I don't know how to be fun :((((#unfortunately

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mariacallous · 1 month

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The Civil Liberties Union for Europe, also known as Liberties, said in its annual report published on Monday that the rule of law in EU member states continued to deteriorate in 2023, as governments across the region further weakened legal and democratic checks and balances.

Liberties’ “Rule Of Law Report 2024” – a collaboration of 37 human rights organisations covering 19 EU countries, which the European Commission takes into account when it compiles its own annual report on the state of the rule of law in the bloc during the summer – found the pattern of the deterioration in the rule of law fell into several groups.

In older democracies with mainstream parties in government (France, Germany, Belgium), the challenges to the rule of law remained sporadic. In other long-established – so more resilient – democracies where far-right parties are in power or influencing power (Italy, Sweden) the deterioration risks becoming systemic. And in those countries that are less resistant to rule of law backsliding, such as Greece, infringements of European standards add up and constitute a negative trend in certain fields.

In less-resilient emerging EU democracies, the rule of law trajectory “can swing rapidly – either towards recovery or decline”, it said. Case in point is Slovakia, where the recently formed government of Robert Fico, inspired by Hungary’s model, is systematically dismantling democratic structures via changes to the criminal code and actions against the independent media. Meanwhile, in Slovenia, the new pro-democratic administration is actively working to mend the situation, while Poland’s experience “highlights the intricate challenge of restoring the rule of law without inadvertently breaking the very legal foundations one seeks to revive”, the report noted.

The emerging democracies feature highly in the report’s key findings concerning: politicised, under-funded and unfair justice systems (Bulgaria, Slovakia); half-hearted efforts to tackle corruption (Hungary, Czechia, Romania); media freedom and pluralism in peril (Croatia, Czechia, Slovakia, Slovenia); insufficient legal and democratic control over the political branches (Hungary, Bulgaria, Croatia); authorities stifling civil society and the voice of the people (Bulgaria, Czechia, Hungary); and marginalised groups either neglected or actively attacked for political gain (Slovenia, Croatia).

Liberties noted that the EU has had a long time to process the shock caused by the rise of the illiberal regimes in Hungary and Poland, and EU institutions have spent many years developing their rule of law toolbox. “As a result, the EU is better equipped than ever before to successfully tackle rule of law back-sliding,” it said.

However, it also said its analysis showed the need for the EU to act faster against clear rule-of-law backsliding.

“Liberties’ Rule of Law Report 2024 shows that intentional harm or neglect to fix breaches to the rule of law by governments, if left unaddressed, can evolve into systemic issues over time,” said Balazs Denes, executive director of Liberties. “The growing far right, building on these abuses, will very quickly dismantle European democracy if the European Commission does not use the tools at its disposal, including infringement proceedings or conditional freezing of EU funds, much more assertively.”

Hungary underscores the limitations of relying solely on EU pressure and sanctions for reform, where a real shift necessitates ongoing support for democracy at the grassroots level, as institutional capture remains a persistent obstacle to genuine change. “There is no need to wait until a captive state like Hungary’s emerges with an irremovable anti-democratic regime,” he added.

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the-healing-mindset · 2 years

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I had the exact same reaction when I first started trying mindfulness in 2016. I noticed that my anxiety had actually increased, and it was much more difficult to pull myself from that than it was just my normal anxiety.

I kept telling myself that all I needed to do was to "keep trying" when I needed to be telling myself to find another technique.

If it doesn't work, it's okay to let it go, no matter how much of a fad it has become.

#Dr. Glenn Doyle #healing #recovery #mindfulness #meditation #anxiety #recovery toolbox #memories #trauma #advice #reminder #gentle reminder

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sniffanimal · 2 months

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as eating disorder awareness week comes to an end, I want to talk about disordered eating habits that ARENT eating disorders (probably), but you should still pay attention to them.

obligatory I'm not an expert or anything I just have been in ED recovery for ARFID off and in since 2017

I would consider myself "recovered" right now, I don't struggle with new foods and can generally eat whatever I try to eat. But I do fall into bad habits that don't support my recovery, and I know a lot of them are really common. I talked about it with my psychiatrist today.

If you find that you're often brain foggy, out of it, can't focus despite being medicated, or doing everything in your Coping Toolbox: it might be your diet. And I'm not here to ascribe morality to any food: merely point out that your brain needs energy to function. If you, like me, tend to be a "coffee for breakfast and then maybe a snack and then a reasonable dinner" eater, you might not really realize that you're restricting your food intake.

Your brain uses 20% of the body's energy intake. Recent studies suggest 2/3 of that is for the basic functions of the nervous system. Low blood sugar, even if you're not diabetic, can cause significant cognitive functioning issues.

I am definitely including myself when I say I see a lot of us complaining of fatigue and fog when we aren't giving our bodies enough energy to work properly.

So even if you are subclinical for an eating disorder, or are in recovery, or whatever, pay attention to your eating habits and maybe try a protein bar or candy or a banana or something solid with your coffee like toast. Try to eat multiple times a day, at least 3.

I'm not a nutritionist, I think a lot of nutritional studies can be misleading, and I think food is morality neutral. Eat what you can, when you can, just be sure to take care of your brain.

if it helps I think of myself like a pet I got to take care of

#badger rants #ed talk ..#disordered eating t.

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microcosmiclymbic · 11 months

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Collecter of names. Wielder of fury. Child of hope. Permanantly hyperfocused on understanding the human condition. Tumbling through the cracks of society.

Runs 70% on queue

I'm a multifaceted artist. Enjoying the discovery process of Self while stumbling through the human experience. On a life long healing journey to end generational cycles and leave humanity in a better state than I found it. Deeply spiritual in my philosophy, I take influence from everyone I've ever loved.

Stuck in survival mode. Trying to claw my way out. #recovery toolbox is my breadcrumb trail of everything I might need to interrupt a spiral & end cycles.

Sideblog for things that are related to my physical wellness & recovery as a multiply disabled individual @mindfullymovingforward

Boundaries:

I block anyone who I notice violating DNIs

I do not waste energy on exclusionism. I believe we are capable of both expanding our borders and protecting our most vulnerable

#micro wordsmith

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m-r-levine · 7 months

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On Interruptions of Flow

Blocks used to be just part of the normal cycles of work and rest and refilling the well, the rhythms of moving between projects. (I won’t deny the good feelings and brain juices from feedback on the work, but it was never the driving force. I treasure comments like a dragon treasures their hoarde, but the urge to write and the pleasure of storytelling are not primarily or even secondarily grounded in the reception of the work.)

In the last few years, that changed. I don’t know if this was a true cause or if it was just one little part of a whole system of events that led to my creative process breaking down, but.

In 2019, I dropped all my other projects to meet an absurd deadline for a zine piece, and then for various reasons, a month later I took that story to pieces to see if an actual novel length concept might be hidden in there**.

Meanwhile, some fairly major things were going on in my personal life, and the tremors were getting markedly worse.

Suddenly I didn’t have blocks of time or steadiness of hand to paint either, except for pushing through for a couple of excruciating outstanding commissions, and struggling to wrap up the second volume of the graphic novel. Yet even with a few of those deadlines dealt with I could no longer make words go on any other project. I tried everything in the toolbox to get the brain going again, especially after a side effect of quarantine gave back my former 3+ hours daily commute time.

Finishing the renovations on the old house ate almost everything I had to give, and my partner’s mental health struggles took the rest. I cannot begin to explain to you just how few spoons I have had between the boring job (which became much more intense with the effects of the pandemic) and Life™️.

Previously, writing and sketching helped me unwind and ground after a shift, or even during breaks. In the last few years though…

Words came slowly for La Mala Suerte, but opening any other story filled my brain with static noises. I could not string basic sentences together. I could not outline plot, I had no fragments of dialogue or vignettes fall into my head like before. When I ran out of backlog to post… Suddenly I had nothing.

Short stretches being dry like that are familiar enough, but days and weeks turned into months and years of desperately wanting to tell the stories and in the few moments of quiet I could steal away? Nothing. It’s an eerie feeling, having the vivid and even visceral scenes that are already written and outlined still looping in my head, screaming to get out, but the moment I try to write connective tissue? Right back to tv snow.

Unlike painting, my writing is accessible everywhere I go, even when it hurts to hold a pen - being able to get ‘lost’ in stories helped me through some incredibly hard times in the past, and losing that ability was devastating. The disappointment and yes, the shame of being adrift and wordless has been wretched. I have longed for the elation I used to find on the other side of a hard passage, the joy of solving the puzzle and freeing the spirit from the proverbial stone.

I still don’t entirely understand what happened in my brain that autumn of 2019… I just know that something changed, and we’re still not… entirely back from it. I am suspecting that Long Covid is now part of it - that was summer of ‘21 though, and I was already firmly lodged in The Block by then.

Maybe it was just one a longer but still normal drought and needing recovery time from intensely brain-heavy Life Events™️ until that extra layer was added? I truly don’t know. I don’t know if it matters either, except in that I am deeply afraid I will lose it again.

Anyway, that’s the ramble for the afternoon on the writing side. Hopefully the Boring Job leaves me some braincells to work on asks and stuff later.

* caveat: Except for the fact some truly wretched negative/judgy feedback can entirely poison the affected work for me and make it impossible to get forward motion(Obsidian Slipper is one such victim, I may talk about it more later.)

** hola Teca. 😒

#studiorat rambles #writeblr #writer problems #writing process

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mental-health-advice · 5 months

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Submission about addiction issues

I'm 27 years old. And I have addiction issues. I am having a hard time with drinking alcohol. Sometimes I go weeks without craving a drink. And other times I can't go by one day without drinking. I have gone to AA meetings about 2 years ago. But I have a hard time asking for help. Because I feel like I don't deserve it and that I'm wasting someone else's time. I usually associate when I'm having a good time in life and things are going positive I usually associate that I have to start up my addictions again. And these include drinking and gambling. I know I need help. I'm just not ready to get sober. But I wish I can limit myself. Anytime I have brought up this topic to my family they take it to the extreme and then just judge me about everything. I know I sabotage myself and my feelings whenever I'm in a good situation. I feel like I don't deserve good in my life. And I do have a hard time understanding that it's okay to feel okay. And it's okay that I'm doing good. I know that sounds silly. But sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to feel happy or to feel good. And I sometimes suck that away from myself and kind of force myself to go into self-destruction. I do care about myself and my well-being. I have gone to therapy years ago when I was able to afford it. Right now I'm just in a tough spot financially. How can I help myself especially when I'm alone? I still use my toolbox of coping skills is what my therapist used to call it. And it does help. It's just sometimes I miss the old memories of when I had a life and had friends. And I mean that as in sometimes I miss having friends that we can go do stuff. But I'm kind of a loner right now. Having to start all over again. Any advice would definitely help and I would really appreciate it. I'm sorry that this was long. Thank you again

Hey there,

With struggling with binge drinking myself I can get and understand where you are coming from. And it’s OK that you do not want to get sober right now, it’s great and a good first step in acknowledging that you do need help with your drinking but it’s so important that you drive the recovery. So for example, when you feel ready then reaching out for help and support when you feel able to. And if by chance you have a relapse or choose that you are not completely readying to stop drinking, this is more than OK too – it’s actually quite normal to take 2 steps forwards and 1 step back. This is just how the recovery journey can look like so if at some time you feel like you are going backwards/ things are getting worse, try to be kind to yourself and know that tomorrow is always a new day where you can start fresh and try again if you choose to.

It can be so difficult to give up an addiction and especially one that we have been using for such a long period of time. I know that you have gone to therapy in the past but cannot afford it at present but if you found it helpful then maybe you could consider reaching out to a counsellor from either a helpline or on web counselling when you feel the need to drink/ self-destruct and try to talk it through with someone first. Of course though, it has to be on your terms and when you feel ready and/ or able to do so.

To associate drinking and other addictions when you are feeling good as a way to consequently hinder I guess your recovery is also normal. A lot of people feel as though they are not good enough and so consequently will just be wasting other peoples time by asking for help. People may also feel really scared about the prospect of getting better as they do not know what that may look like for them and they find safety in their addictions as at least they know what to expect/ how the cycle goes. It’s OK to be afraid and scared though of recovery. This is why it’s so important that when you do choose to work on your addictions and getting well, it’s because you want to and not because of what other people want you to do. A lot of the hard work in recovery has to come from you, others can be there to guide, support and help you through but at the end of the day all of the hard work has to come from within you.

In regards to how you can help yourself right now and when you are feeling alone, try to keep using those strategies that you put into place with your therapist, your tool box, and try to reach out to a counsellor from a helpline or via web counselling if needed. Sometimes writing can be really helpful or doing something more active like going for a walk/ run or self-soothe by doing things to take care of yourself and things that you love and enjoy. Random distractions may also help at times so please feel free to check out our page here for some examples. Overall though I think you are doing a really good job in acknowledging that you need help but also mentioning that you are not yet ready to give up drinking or other addictions just yet – both are completely OK and you can get help and support even if you are not yet able to fully commit to getting better right now.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going OK!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #submission #anonymous #addcitons #drinking #gambling #recovery

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drwormdcg · 1 year

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Learning to Love Good Decks

Or how a timmy became a Spike and then a Mel

TAK/CORE TCG September Evo Cup Top 16

A small recount about how during Digimon [BT5]. I broke taboo about playing the best deck in the format and how it affected me positively.

As TCG players we usually pivot away from [tier 0-1] decks due to the triviality of a relative power advantage over our peers, maybe the decks are perceived as easier, more linear, etc. But the truth is unequivocally good decks can teach you about aspects of the game which are mostly ignored by new players.

I actually started to play this game around [BT4] in plain Yellow WarGrey Format, and my color of choice was red, I was piloting a [BT4] ShineGrey deck (one of my favorite cards ever, but thats a story for another time.)

But then the infamous LordKnightmon tier 0 format came by in [BT5]. And I ended building the deck in question after it was favored in my pulls, Had to sell my soul for a pair of TKs and Pulsemon but every card I needed for the deck after that was actually fairly easy to get, so I said:

"what the hell I am expending so much in this game I may as well pick some wins."

...

What was the result? I performed like fucking ass for the first half of the format.

LKM was a good deck, the best deck probably, it had an unfair edge in it's ability to cheat out Lv5 digimon to the field as well as the best removal in the game by far.

With an ideal stack

The player can start the turn with WarGrowlmon, use its effect to do -4K

Evolve into LKM, attack, use its effect to play a Knigthmon which deal another -4K on play, finish its attack.

And evolve that new Knight into a SlashAngemon for -8K

For a total of -16k damage for a total cost of 6 memory spread across multiple targets and 2 Lv6 digimon on the field. Mind you in a time period where removing a Lv6 or higher digimon meant either dropping a Gaia Force or getting Omnimon on the field.

But that was just a branch of all the possible routes you could go with it. With Angewomon you get access to lines in which you play a Knight and a Starmons or a BushiAgumon (maybe even 2) for a hit for game. You even have access to Lucemon for a recovery +1 if you need to stall.

Just reading these card together explains the strategy in its barebones

For the first time I had a deck that gave me enough fuel to do tons of different things at any point of the match. My red ShineGreymon deck needed me to find tamers and build my guy, then swing at security and hope he would be alive next turn but LKM gave me a flowchart of questions and options at almost every relevant point of the game.

The deck was a huge toolbox with generous action economy. The problem was, you, the player, needed to manage those resources and find the shortest route to your win. It becomes a game about Macro. Do you extent early? Do you play defensively, count how many attacks your opponent has over you next turn. You gotta manage the Pickmon -1k you are missing to attack over that Hexeblaumon this turn before it becomes a problem, or maybe remove that blocker on field so you can go for lethal.

I took LKM to the online Regionals and got beat by everything, Lilith-Loop, Hexeblaumon, Sec-con a scimblo black deck. But when I came back to locals, I started to win more games, not undeserved either I was just a better player on macro level. As minimal as it is just learning when to just straight up pass turn was really beneficial, I could identify that even though I was piloting the best deck, it still had a roll, LKM was a reactive strategy.

By BT6 I started to pivot toward purple strategies, picked Titamon, legitimately not a bad deck but a much much more difficult one, in part because it didn't carry that generous action economy LKM had. In Tita you build an ideal stack, discard some cards, and with luck and care you will have from 2 to 5 security checks in one turn, with all the flexibility purple already brings to the table. We were still just hitting hard. But despite some learning rounds I was a much more confident player, Titamon had an excellent niche against the best deck at the time, GabuBond, because you could build a Lv6 blocker with retaliation abusing the way Rebellimon retains the effect even if it evolves on Titamon.

But I did dip back into LKM builds, Lordknigth-Dynas was a fantastic. Less strong comparatively to its predecessor but it carried this action economy that made me enamored with it on the first place.

In short, picking wins with a better deck will always be easier than with a worse deck, there's fun in being able to pilot a powerhouse. I dont have to tell you this but winning in cardgames is fun, and even tho losing can be fun, the root of said fun is having a chance in the first place. No one likes being the coughing baby . And sure, over favorable wins aren't fun either.

Playing a close to tier 0 deck in BT5 taugth me that, when your gameplan is working you get to learn a game about what do you do once your deck is working, in contrast to the struggle to achieve your gameplan in the first place.

I now pretty much play only Mastemon, a deck historically known for being a deck about struggling to achieve its gameplan. (We find gatomon or we cry) But for me now it feels like its a risk I calculate before choosing the deck, rather than the blind gravitation to quirky off-meta decks I used to feel.

It will save me stress, to know that my Sakuyamon deck which is really inconsistent but has strong and satisfactory blow out. Will lose the majority of games it plays against a consistent aggro deck like Imperial. And it is the awareness of these weaknesses what allows me to play around them.

Maybe by the end not much has changed, I used to play quirky trashy decks, then I played LKM for a season and then went back to my jank. I am not a fantastic pilot in the first place but I like to imagine the humbling experience of being in the big chair changed the way I see the game, the decks I like, the options I can take when building a given strategy and the way I play the macro game. And I feel, if you are starting in any decent tcg and can afford it or have the chance be in a simulator or playing with proxies, try the best deck in the room. Even better, ask you friends to do the same, you will get a perspective change, you will play fire with fire and your piloting skills will be rewarded with some of the most satisfactory wins, and all you learn there, you will take it with you next time you show up to locals playing Black/White Diaboromon-Eosmon OTK

#rambles #digimon tcg #story time

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