not to be extra or anything but I actually do love smut. not just writing smut with someone you’re comfortable with, but like…….the nsfw part of a ship. talking about their sex lives, their individual experience & relation to sex, how compatible they are, what their first time together was like, what their 501st time together was like, dirty smutty headcanons that are ten times more relaxed than any smut thread will ever be just like…I love the nsfw part of a ship. I love it so much. I wanna talk about it forever
Send a sentence to my inbox for a starter in which one of our muses is possessed by a spirit, demon, or other being. Trigger warning for threats of violence, harsh language, manipulation, and obviously sensitive religious content.
“You’re not eating. Are you okay?” “Your breathing sounds rapid.” “I’m concerned. You’re not yourself today.” “We’ve brought you here because we’re all very worried about you.” “What is -wrong- with you?” “Seriously, it’s like you’re a different person! What the hell happened?” “I don’t think I like this person you’re becoming.” “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” “Hey, calm down. You’re really scaring me right now.” “Oh my God. Who - who are you? WHAT are you?!” “You’re not [name] anymore.” “What have you done with my friend?!” [change relationship as necessary] “Oh God, you’re not even human!” “Snap out of it! Come back!” “Please, stay away from me. Don’t take another step closer.” “You’re not fooling me. I know what you are.” “Calm down, [name]. This will pass. This will pass.” “Get out of my friend and never fucking come back!” “I don’t believe you. You’re lying.” “Why should I listen to anything a monster like you has to say?” “You’re just a parasite. Nothing more than a slimy, pathetic parasite!” “If you’re in there, you need to keep fighting. Don’t let this monster win!” “It’s gone. It’s okay. I’m going to keep you safe.”
“I don’t feel so well.” “Oh God, something is wrong with me.” “I can feel it. It burns in my chest, it’s making it hard to breathe. Oh my god, there’s something inside of me.” “I don’t want to be a monster.” ”I think I‘m going to be sick.” “Please. Save me.” “Get out! Get out of here!” “I swear, I’ll cut you open if you come near me!” “What are you afraid of? That I’ll hurt you?” “Look, it’s still me. Don’t you love me?” “Come back here! Don’t you walk away from me!” “Oh, [name]~ I have a fun game we can play together~” “I’m not [name] anymore. I. Am. God.” “Pray for your life. I want to hear you beg for it.” “Your friend is nothing but filth and rot, and I had no choice but to destroy them.” “They’re gone now. I’m the only one left. It’s just you and me.” “I’ve spoken to the devil, and he wants you next.” “I’m not human. I’ve never been human, but you accepted me anyway.” “Go! Leave before it comes back and rips you apart!” “Please, kill me. It’s the only way to get it out of me.” “I didn’t want to hurt you.” “Don’t let it take me. Please.” “Is - is it gone?” “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
My favorite part of The Vampire Lestat is that he was angry Louis wrote a book that made him look over dramatic so he wrote his own book where he comes off ten times more over dramatic than Louis ever did
Human: tsk… of all the stupid things this idiot could do… look, they picked up a blue ringed octopus!
Human 2: is it dangerous?
Human: it’s australian, golden with bright blue circles. of course it’s deadly.
Human 2: oh dear, how can one be so stupid to pick up random animals in australia???
Alien: what’s with australia?
Human: well, everyone knows that australian animals are ten times more deadly than everywhere else. you don’t go picking up animals in australia, unless it’s a quokka. pretty much everything else is venomous, highly aggressive, or brings diseases. a combination of the three is possible.
Human 2: I remember that they had to censor an episode of a children tv show because it taught not to be afraid of spiders… in australia you MUST be afraid of spiders.
Alien: so… let me get this straight. you come from what we define as a Death World, and yet on your death world there is a place even more dangerous??
Every writer knows what it’s like to set a manuscript down for an evening and just… not pick it up again.
Usually when this happens, we have every intention of returning to it the next day, but for some reason or another, we don’t.
One day turns into a week. Which turns into a month. Maybe two.
The longer the manuscript’s been set aside, the harder it becomes to pick up again. It turns into this dark, hulking presence lurking at the edge of your consciousness, like something in a horror movie, eating away at that piece of your identity labeled “writer.”
The reasons for not picking it up may change, but there’s always one.
You may not know where to start again, or doubt that your abilities are up to the standard its plot or characters require. You may not know where to find the time to write anymore. You may have even sat down to write just a few minutes ago, and ended up here on Tumblr instead, unable to bring yourself to open the manuscript file.
If you’re reading this post and feel personally attacked…
I have a writing exercise for you.
Set aside ten minutes of your day to look at your manuscript.
I recommend reading the last scene you completed, but this is your manuscript and your time. You can look at the first page. Or that one scene in the middle that you actually kind of like. Just don’t look at a blank page. Blank pages are scary and this is all about eliminating writing anxiety.
Personally, I make this the last thing I do in the day, so I go to sleep with my manuscript in my head. Sometimes it helps to let my unconscious mind have a go at sorting through what I’ve read. However, I think it’s helpful to do this before any long period of time when you can let your mind wander. You may find writing more helpful before work/school or during lunch. Before a commute. Whatever works best for you.
But don’t write and don’t look for more than ten minutes.
You’re not allowed to change a single thing in the document. Not a comma. Not a misspelled word.
When the ten minutes are up, simply close the document and go on with your day/night.
There will probably be some things that you do want to change in the manuscript. They may be very simple, sentence-level fixes, but they may be as big as an idea for continuing the scene or the start of the next chapter. Let those thoughts sit with you, instead of all of the manuscript doubt and anxiety that were sitting with you before.
And yes, keeping your time down to ten minutes is important. You want a focus on a bite-sized portion of the manuscript. If you read too much, you’ll give yourself too much to consider for the next day, you’ll find too much to change, and you’ll run the risk of making your work as anxiety-inducing as ever.
The next day, sit down with your document for another ten minutes.
Allow yourself to make the changes you didn’t make the first day, or ones you’ve come up with since. This may mean adding a few commas and removing a few ‘that’s. This may mean continuing with the scene. Ten minutes is the perfect amount of time to set down a good paragraph. Try that.
Again, force yourself to stop after ten minutes, even if you’re on a roll now. The stopping means that you have to keep all of those changes that you’re excited to make inside your head. It means that your thoughts about your manuscript are good and productive. It’ll keep you looking forward to your next writing session. Key advice: at the end of every writing session, always leave an edit in your head. It’ll be that small, tangible thing you can start with in your next session.
Rinse, repeat, and develop a routine.
Sit down for at least ten minutes every day. Make it a routine. Once the manuscript is open, do whatever feels comfortable to you: whether that means reading a chapter, editing something old, or writing something new.
If you’re coming up with edits and scenes that simply require more than ten minutes, start amping up your writing time. Write for an hour. Write for two or three.
Have a super busy day and know you can’t write for an hour? Those ten minutes are still fine. They’re still enough. Never feel like having spent three hours writing yesterday means you have to spend three hours writing today. Never feel like a failure for not spending X hours a day writing. That will only lead to not writing at all.
What if you get stuck again? Go back to a shorter writing time, go back to reading and not writing. Reduce the pressure you’ve put on yourself and relax your expectations. The most important thing is simply returning to your manuscript every day whether you have something good to set on the page or not.
Never got un-stuck in the first place? That’s still okay! Keep spending your ten minutes with your manuscript. Write or just read. Keep it in your thoughts. Make it a defined, real, thing instead of that monster lurking in your head. It may take time, but eventually, something will click, and by that point, opening that file and getting started will be a piece of cake.
If you are able to write for an hour or two each day, you may find it useful to continue setting aside ten minutes each evening to read that day’s work–read but not edit–and keep a few edits in your head for the next day’s session.
By the end of a week, whether you’ve written a hundred new pages or fixed a lot of bad grammar, you’ll at least be in a place where you’re once again thinking about your manuscript in tangible terms, as a thing made up of words and paragraphs instead of anxiety and blank pages.
Maybe in the end, you’ll decide that you simply need to abandon this story and pick up a new one. If this happens, you’ll be in a great place to start, with a writing routine already in place.
More likely than not, just spending time with your story will fan up your love for it again. And once more, your manuscript will be the annoying, stubborn, untameable child you adore instead of a lurking horror.
Okay listen up, this is probably super boring to a lot of you, especially those of you who still live at home, but remember this anyway because it will save your ass countless times and still leave room for fun in your life.
Never utter the words “I just got my paycheck so let’s go out” Never. It’s the worst fucking thing you can do to yourself.
Instead, save your money at the start of the month like you would at the end. Only pay your bills, maybe put some in your savings if you can, and only get what you need. Nothing extra.
If an accident happens, oh shit, you got some extra cash to help you with that.
But if nothing happens, you have extra cash at the start of the next month!
I call them “fun money” because I use them for fun stuff like going out with my friends, but they are also good for new shoes when your old ones die.
I learned this the hard way when I only had 100$ every month (and remember, things are ten times more expensive in Denmark than most other places) and this system was so effective I still use it to a lesser extent.
Please listen to this 32 years old lady. I promise you, you won’t regret it. It will save you so much stress.
I’ve read a lot of really good fic this year and I just thought the best of the best deserved some recognition. I tried to weed out the super popular fics, but some still show up because I love them that much. Also, the ships are numerous and varied.
Running on Air–eleventy7; Drarry Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects. *I would murder people to protect this fic. It’s beautifully written, well-plotted, original, and it reuses certain sentences, making them more poignant the later in the story they’re used. Like, fuck me up*
the ghost of you–kissmesexybatman; Klance When Keith goes missing without a trace, all his family and friends are able to do is move on with their lives. When he shows back up after a year, they have to convince him they still want him back. *I may be slightly biased because the coolest person in the world wrote this, but let me tell you, it’s emotionally heartwrenching, wonderfully written, and gives you a happy ending without sacrificing the needs of the characters*
My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.–dawnstruck; Otayuri Yuri grows up and grows older and grows into himself. Otabek helps. It just takes a while to get there. *I’m demi and this fic described exactly what that experience has been like for me, as it features a demi!Yuri. Beyond that, it was sweet and genuine and I adored it*
The Ten Types of Fans on Tumblr, as told by Supernatural Characters:
1. The Becky
Generic unhinged fangirl. Has zero concept of socially acceptable behavior, is probably a multi-shipper, and is okay with the concept of sibling incest. Posts nothing but surprisingly well-written erotic fanfiction, and might legitimately have a member of the cast tied up in their basement.
2. The Gabriel
Posts nothing but memes and crack edits. Will find a way to make even the most heartbreaking scene seem comical and ridiculous, and you will love/hate them for it.
3. The Castiel
This person is an innocent in a world of shell-shocked Tumblr veterans. Is generally well-mannered and respectful, despite having to put up with a lot of bullshit from everyone else. Doesn’t get sexual innuendos, and thinks shipping has something to do with boats.
4. The Ambriel
Appears cute and innocent, but is also sort of ignorant and occasionally says something super offensive without even realizing it. Is probably fourteen or younger. Will not last long on this site.
5. The Sam
Will honest-to-God post a ten chapter essay on why his OTP should be canon. Comes up with the bizarrely good headcanons, edits, and theories. Ships Destiel like crazy. Is obviously smart, and probably went to an ivy league college. You will wonder why they’re not doing something more productive with their life.
6. The Crowley
Not to be mistaken with the Sam, this person is at least ten times smarter than everyone else, but more of a jerk about it. They will complain about everything, from poor writing, to continuity errors, to drama within the fandom.
They also probably post a lot of porn.
7. The Charlie
Posts the most adorable fanart, reblogs all your stuff, and sends you a *hugs!* in response to sad posts. Generally someone you just really want to hang out with, and probably has the best multi-fandom blog you’ve ever seen.
8. The Metatron
Is generally the worst in every regard. Obnoxious, disrespectful, doesn’t tag spoilers, and will try to convince you that your favorite characters are straight.
9. The Bobby
Legit oldest and most experienced person in the fandom. Has lived through all the drama, and has probably met the entire cast on multiple occasions. Should be treated with the utmost respect and reverence at all times.
10. The Dean
Is just completely obsessed with Destiel. Does things on Tumblr that they would never admit to in real life. Posts nothing but erotic Castiel fanart, fanfiction (both fluff and smut), and bisexual pride posters.
7.“For normal people to go out on a holiday, if what they’re seeking is something abnormal, then what do people with abnormal daily lives do on their days off?”Rio Kamichika
8. “Once again, the city is in an uproar. As questionable rumors swirl around the Dollars, there’s an ominous stalker working behind the scenes, and we’re about to get dragged into the fray whether we like it or not.” Anri Sonohara
9.“Do you know who that man really is? Or don’t you? Do you want me to tell you? Well I can’t divulge it just like that. Since he and I go way, way back… all the way to our student days.”Izaya Orihara
10.“People meet. Lines are connected and become fate. As if guided by something, they’re trying to spin one long story.”Haruya Shiki
11.“The city is quietly shaking. The murmurs are secretly spreading. As if foreshadowing the imminent uproar, the groundwork is steadily being laid without anyone noticing.”Takashi Nasujima
12.“Now this is really complicated. A complicated story involving all kinds of characters from this city called Ikebukuro […]. And though I plan to get involved myself, I can only go far, see?”Chikage Rokujō
13. “The festival that changed people’s destinies, and plunged this city into madness, is coming to an end. Now that we’ve changed so drastically, where should we go? […]” Mikado Ryūgamine
Summary: It’s set a year after Season 2 has finished and you’re a senior in high school who’s often getting into trouble with the law for petty crimes. And Hopper usually gets you out of trouble. Then one night the new officer Steve Harrington joins him.
Words: 1.7k (YIKES)
Warnings: Mild swearing, mild mentions of smoking, hints towards abuse. Slightly OOC Steve
A/N: Okay so this is the first time I’ve ever written anything so please go easy on me, I just love Steve and I’ve had this idea in my head for a few days so I had to write it down.
You sit on the cold step outside the gas station. Mr Pritchard stood looming over you smugly, as the Chevrolet Blazer pulls up, ‘Hawkins Police Dept.’ printed on the side. Parking itself roughly. Chief Hopper steps out of the vehicle quickly reaching into his pocket to his packet of cigarettes, he removes one and places into his mouth. He walks over to you whilst sparking up. There’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The passenger door suddenly opens, startling you, it was usually just Hopper himself who dealt with you.
Steve Harrington? That’s new. You chuckle slightly as he walks to join Hopper stood before you. He’s staring at you in confusion. You scoff and hang your head. “This is the third time this month you’ve been caught shoplifting (Y/N).” Hopper says as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “I’m starting to think you’re enjoying the excitement.” He chuckles.
“I’d raise my hands in defeat if this asshole,” you say jerking your head towards Mr Pritchard “hadn’t tied my arms in front of me with fucking rope.” Hopper glares at Pritchard, the old man crosses his arms in defiance to Hopper. He huffs slightly and begins to explain to Hopper that you had been trying to run away. Bullshit. Everyone knew you didn’t run once you were caught. As Hopper and him get into an argument you lean back and glance at Steve as he’s scribbling furiously in a notepad. The khaki coloured uniform he’s wearing looks freshly starched, his name tag shines under the glare of the street-lights. His hair is pushed back and looks neat, except for the strand that’s fallen out of place. It bounces in time with his writing.
“You, er, don’t need to do that”
“Huh?” He says stopping mid-word on the page. He stares at you confusedly.
“He never presses charges against me. I usually just get a two week ban.” You tell him, grinning. A small smile tugs at his lips. “That’s what you get for shoplifting a packet of Salem's’ I guess.”
“Salem’s? Refreshing. Wouldn’t have pinned you for a menthol kind of girl” You both laugh. “Well, Hop- I mean, the Chief told me I should write everything down…” He says placing the pen in between the pages. He closes the notepad, holding it in his left hand. He stands awkwardly waiting slightly too close to Hopper. You’re shocked, since when did Steve Harrington want to be a cop? It was unusual to say the least, you always figured he’d end up at an Ivy League college. Yet here he was standing before you looking slightly uncomfortable. He’d been in the grade above you, and was ten times more popular than you were. The ‘King’. That was till Nancy Wheeler broke up with him, started dating the Byers kid, and he faded into obscurity. You’d still see him in passing but he’d mainly kept to himself focusing on his studies, always in the library. You’d heard rumors he was friends with some fourteen year olds, but you didn’t know him well enough to find out if they were true or not.
“Do want me to untie you?”
“What?” You ask as you realize you hadn’t been paying attention.
“The rope. Do you want me to untie it?” He asks again. You look at his hands. His notepad, you notice, is safely stowed away in his breast pocket.
“Oh, sure. Yeah, please. That would be great.” You say stuttering over your words slightly. You internally kicked yourself. You can’t believe you’re getting nervous over Steve fucking Harrington of all people. He bends down slightly, you’re inches apart, you can feel his breath on your cold hands as he reaches for them. You lift them up slightly from your lap. He starts to try and unknot the large knot that Pritchard had tied it with. He pauses and looks up at you, smirking. He lowers his voice.
“Now, you’re not going to dash the moment it’s unravelled are you?”
“On my honour.” You whisper. You smile at him.
“Oh, were you a Girl Scout.” He asks as he starts to work on untying you again.”
“Unwillingly, but yeah I was for about five years. Prettttttttttty sure, I sold you some Thin Mints once.” You told him struggling back a laugh.
“What, really? How old are you?” He moves his hands away from yours. You grin at him.
“I’m seventeen, but my birthdays in a week. I figured you wouldn’t recognize me.” He snickers quietly and slowly begins to tackle the knot again. You watch his hands move across the rope, grazing your wrists lightly, sending shivers up your arms.
“No I’m afraid I don’t think I’ve seen you around, I know I’d remember if I had someone like you before.” You look up at lock eyes with him. The rope around your wrists falls into your lap. Steve takes both your wrists in his hands and looks and the marks left on them. He rubs the rope burn with his left thumb. His brow furrowed, he opens his mouth as if to say something.
“Alright! I won’t press any further charges, just tell her that she needs to stay off of my property. For good this time, I’m giving her a permanent ban!” You both gaze up at the two men who had been having a heated debate about your actions.
“That seems fair. You hear that (Y/N)? You’re permanently banned from this gas station.” Hopper tells you whilst Steve helps you to your feet. “Permanent means no entry, and no sneaking in with a hat and sunglasses on like you did at the convenience store down street. Steve glances down at you with an amused look etched across his face.
“You really did that?” He says questioning you.
“I thought it was a good idea at the time. I was very mistaken.” You tell him with a huff as you fold your arms, the temperature had dropped quite drastically. He leans his head back laughing, his hair moves like it has a mind of its own.You stare at him in awe. He is annoyingly pretty. You think to yourself. Boys like him shouldn’t be so pretty.
You bite your lip to stop yourself from joining him in his laughing fit. Instead you peer over at The Chief who’s not paying attention and is instead staring at his watch. He walks up to you and gently takes you by the arm and leads you towards the vehicle.
“We need to be leaving, its 9pm and I need to pick up El- I mean, Jane from Mike’s after dropping (Y/N) at her house.” He tells Steve who nods and makes his way over to the car, he gets in and you can see he’s still beaming. “See you later Fred.” Hopper says to Mr Pritchard as he opens the door for you.
“Bye Fred!” You say as Hopper pushes you into his car. Mr Pritchard walks into the gas station ignoring your exaggerated goodbye.The door slams behind him the car shaking slightly. He puts the keys into the ignition and sets off driving in the direction of your house. The mood in the car is some what hostile. You go to make a smart remark to relieve tension, but Hopper stops you.
“Whatever you’re about to say (Y/N), save it. This is your final warning. Like I said earlier this is the third time this month that someone’s stopped you shoplifting. I’m sure you’ve done it more you just haven’t been caught. I’m worried about you kid.” He gazes at you in the rear-view mirror, you turn away so you don’t make eye contact. “Next time I pick you up, you’re going to be in handcuffs. You understand?” You nod, there’s a prick behind your eye. Tears begin to well up in your eyes.
“I’m sorry… Sir.” The air is suddenly as icy as it is outside, despite the heating sputtering it’s warm breath around the car. You zone out and begin to stare outside, watching houses as they pass by. Wondering if their teenagers were as troublesome as you were. You’re startled as a tear falls onto your cheek, you quickly go to scrub your eyes. Uncaring if you smudge the eye make-up you have on. You didn’t want to let Hopper down, he’d looked out for you each time there had been an incident. And yet you knew he was serious this time despite always telling you it was the final time he was clearing up after your messes. Somehow the presence of Steve made you embarrassed. Why do I even care? I don’t even know him. You think to yourself. And yet looking at the wing mirror and seeing him give you a reassuring smile was comforting, you return it sadly and turn to stare out the window again.
As the car drove up to your house the lump in your throat grew. It was fear. Fear of what was waiting for you at home. The lights were on meaning you were in for a rough ride. You sit forward as the car draws to a halt. Wincing as your hand touches the cool metal of the handle.
“Tell your old man to go easy on you.” Hopper says to you. Without turning to face him you open the door getting out.
“Thanks for the ride boys.” You say plastering a fake smile across your lips as you slam the door shut. The grin instantly drops from you face as you make your way up to you red front door. You can feel both Jim and Steve’s eyes watching you.
“Do you think you could get me any of those Thin Mints? I’ve got a real craving!” You hear Steve shout to you. Turning to face him, he’s beaming from ear to ear. You start laughing, you flash him the middle finger and give him a sarcastic smile as you close the door. Blocking you off from the world. You place your hands on the door and lift your eye to the peep hole to watch as Hopper’s car rolls out of sight. You sigh as you hear angry footsteps approach you. Grabbing at your arm, pulling it from the door.
What I say: I’m fine
What I mean: The Bold Type and an amazing show and I’m terrified it’s going to get cancelled. People just aren’t watching it. And I don’t wanna say that people on tumblr are being hypocritical and maybe a little racist because I understand that it’s a niche type of show that not everyone wants to see, but then I see people shipping white girls who are both straight, like not even bi, just straight on shows that aren’t even that good and I get frustrated because we have a canon wlw relationship between a bi/pan black woman and a lesbian middle eastern muslim woman and no one cares. I see gifsets of superc*rp and j*ssica Jones with that blonde chick ten times more than I see gifsets of Kat and Adena kissing and it just bothers me. Not to mention that besides the Kadena ship there are three more amazing women on the show. Jane who is much more traditional than her friends who stands firm in her beliefs but pushes her limits when she needs to. Sutton a strong women who would do anything for her friends but also sticks up for herself and always tries to do the right thing. Jacqueline, a motherly figure who knows exactly when she needs to be soft and when she needs to be tough. And these aren’t perfect cookie cutter women, they’re complicated, they have flaws, and if they to to bed with makeup they wake up smudged. I just don’t understand why no one wants to watch The Bold Type on Freeform at 9/8c on Tuesdays.
As grim and gloomy as “a world without Light” is, it’s funny picturing this army of conditionally immortal soldiers, who have all died at least a couple of times before, suddenly having to scratch casually taking a bullet off the list of viable tactics.
At least one person goes to jump down from some fatal height and remembers nearly too late; ends up aborting their heroic charge into a graceless flail of limbs as they reel back and tumble ass over teakettle from the edge.
Someone goes, “Shit, I think I broke my wrist, let me just-” and is immediately greeted with “NOOOO” and their fireteam wrestling the gun out of their hand.
Nobody here’s used decent triage in seventy years and their attempts are questionable at best. Also it turns out pain is a lot more inconvenient when you have to experience it for more than ten minutes at a time? What the hell. They’re learning all kind of respect for the civilians, but also what the hell.
Millions of years older than mankind. From an age when the Earth was ten times more radioactive than today. This animals and others like it consumed this radiation as a food source. As the levels on the surface naturally subsided these creatures adapted to live deeper in the oceans. Furter underground. Absorbing radiation from the planet’s core. The organization we work for, Monarch, was established in the wake of this discovery. A multinational coalition formed in secrecy to search for him. Study him. Learn everything we could.
Y'all talk a big game about how anti recovery people “romanticize mental illness” but you need a fucking truth bomb.
For people without access to help, for people with chronic issues that won’t improve, for people in situations that can’t/won’t ever change, for people who cannot get better…. The romanticization of recovery is just as dangerous.
Recovery should not be the glorified end game. Recovery in itself is a masking word, because less than a fraction of people who get better are actually “recovered;” they’re simply managing better.
Mental illness doesn’t just go away. You don’t “get over it” like a cold. No, not even after a long time with lots of progress. At least not for a grand majority (because I know someone out there is going to go “uwu I got over it.”)
And for people who have no access or conditions that don’t allow for the types of improvement other people constantly praise as the standard, its worse for us.
We see ourselves as failures who can’t attain the same goals as other sick people. We feel even more hopeless, because we can’t reach the same endgame as others like us. We push ourselves to dangerously unhealthy spots to attain this “recovery” because in order to get there we have to cross bridges we aren’t equipped to.
The romanticization of “recovery” needs to come to an end. In its place we need to start supporting the concept of making the best of your situation; which for some people WILL be their concept of recovery, and for others it will be accepting their condition and continuing to cope.
The failure to account for the chronically ill, the people without access, the people who will remain sick, when you’re talking about mental health and what’s needed for mentally ill people, is no different than the ableism that gets thrown at us from healthy people.
We need to be thought of and represented when you talk about mental health and community needs, especially regarding what you deem as acceptable behavior.
Slamming people who accept their state does ten times more damage than good. Telling people they have “given up” because they accept how they are does more damage than good. Don’t let your idealation of goal that you personally can attain turn you into a cruel ableist, dangling something in front of people’s faces and attacking them when they can’t get it.
Mentally ill people all have different individual needs for survival. Pretending like everyone can get better and violently rejecting the idea of anyone accepting their condition and learning to cope without constantly striving and using up spoons for a fantasy of “recovery,” is fucking toxic and dangerous.
Let mentally ill people be their own judges of the best thing to do for themselves in their situations. Make helpful comments and encouragements, sure, but don’t act like your goals and abilities are universally achievable.
Recovery is not the golden end goal. Making the best out of your condition is, and that does NOT always equal recovery. Stop leaving us in the dirt and kicking us while we’re down.