these two are just bad for my health

2

SUUUUUHHH DUUUUDES @therealjacksepticeye fan community fellow trashbags!! It’s yo girlboi fighting against Billy the cancer a.k.a. Dany!

So I haven’t updated in a while, reason to that being laziness and I’ve been on a some sort of semi-hiatus from Tumblr anyway so.

As you can see from the snaps, it’s final boss time! Meaning I’ll get chemo for a few days, starting today and ending on June 2nd. That day the stem cells that were collected a few weeks ago will be transplanted. And hopefully new healthy cells will start to grow in a few months.

But for now, I’ll be in Turku’s hospital until June 2nd and then I’ll be moved to Pori’s hospital for approx. two weeks. Right now I’m really going to work on quitting smoking because I do realize how bad it is for my health. It’s just been kinda hard to quit like that after smoking for almost 8 years (I was 15 when I started. I was young, stupid, stressed and depressed). Anyway now that I can’t leave my room for the next three weeks, I’ll quit smoking once and for all. Bless nicotine patches.

I took my bf’s and my PS4 console with me to the hospital so at least I don’t get bored when I can play Dangan Ronpa and Kingdom Hearts HD Remixes, watch Netflix and of course watch Jack and other youtubers.

I miss my bf and cats a lot 😭💗

Anyway hope y'all havin a nice day/night/etc, I’ll try to update when something happend!

“I didn’t enjoy life very much because I was always sacrificing for the future. My whole life was about studying and working. I worked so many jobs. I went to college. I got my MBA. I didn’t travel very much. I didn’t get married. I didn’t have kids. All I wanted to do was feel secure. But I’ve had bad health problems my entire life. So I haven’t been able to save. And two weeks ago I lost my job. The job market is brutal when you’re my age. People don’t think you can learn new things. I can’t even get work as a clerk because they think I’m overqualified. I have no money now. I can barely afford food and transportation. I’ve spent my whole life sacrificing—just to one day feel secure. But it seems like it was all for nothing. And I have no idea what to do.”

(São Paulo, Brazil)

day 1 |  back to school challenge🎶winner - island

next semester is going to be my first year in university, so i’m super excited!! to stay focused this semester, here is my list of goals for fall 2017. (this is me talking to myself, so it’s gonna be in 2nd person)

goals for: school

  • make a study schedule
    • use google calendar to build a schedule w enough study time allotted to each class, as well as imp assignments and tests
  • and stick to it! 
    • build self-discipline!
    • 5-minute rule: if you don’t want to do it, just do it for 5 minutes. just 5
    • no zero days. a day shouldn’t go by, that you did nothing for your dreams and aspirations
    • there’s no way around the hard work! if you wanna graduate early, buckle up and get to work
  • obliterate procrastination!
    • set early deadlines, and convince yourself they’re as imp as the real deadlines
    • when you don’t feel like it, remember the snowball effect. leave it now, and it will become a bigger problem later
    • tell your friends that you’re gonna do something, and you’re for sure gonna have it done by a certain time
    • block tumblr and youtube. forreal
  • classes & academics
    • learn who sits beside you and make friends with them
    • read the entire syllabus!! 
    • join at least two student groups
    • practice making small talk. they’re midwest people, they’re gonna be nice, they won’t bite, don’t worry,
    • participate in class! answer questions! make sure the prof/ta knows you! 
    • talk to the prof/ta if you’re struggling. don’t try to do it all alone all the time

goals for: self

  • mental health
    • don’t be too hard on yourself
    • follow advice from people who have gone thru uni w/ mental health issues 
    • build self-confidence in yourself
    • stop apologizing. you are enough
    • go to counseling/therapy when it gets bad, there’s counseling that won’t cost you
    • explain to friends / tell them i’m not ignoring them, just, my brain is kinda not working well sometimes
  • daily routines
    • fix your sleep schedule. please. go to sleep: 10-11. wake up: 5-6
    • set up a schedule for skincare routine and stick to it. get some better moisturizer asap and stick! to! the! routine!
    • make a fitness schedule as well. aim for a certain amount of physical time per day, and neck/arm/back excercises for everyday
    • diet: increase fruit/veg intake slowly; one fruit/veg/smoothie a day. drink water when you want sugar

even tho this post turned out super long and specific, feel free to use any of these if you would like!!

-ria

Binding safety things.
  • “I can bind as much as I like, I’m having top surgery soon so that’ll just get rid of any problems it causes-” nope. NOPE NOPE NOPE. Not only does soft tissue damage make surgery both more difficult and risky, binding too much, for too long, over even just a year or two can weaken muscles supporting your ribcage so when you stop binding after surgery, you’re at risk of things like hairline fractures- and worse, up to and including a couple horror stories that include punctured lungs. Do not use “but top surgery!” as an excuse to bind while sleeping, for more than 8-10 hours a day maximum, or 365 days a year without one single break. Not binding sucks- but we all gotta do things that suck for our health sometimes, grit your teeth and do not fuck up your lungs and ribcage.
  • Nonetheless, your risk assessment needs to be different if your timescale is less “five years til top surgery” and more “binding for the rest of my life”. I understand some women bind for reasons of gender presentation and such without plans to get surgey, plus of course there’s some AFAB trans people who either don’t want or can’t get top surgery who plan to bind indefinitely. Understand that this means you need to plan ahead for a lot of possible risks and complications that are less prominent for people using binding as a short-term gap, that the effects of very long-term binding are barely known and potentially severe, and that thirty years on, if you are still doing it, there are going to have been consequences for your body. This is NOT to say, “don’t do it”. Do it with a full, informed, adult understanding of what the risks are or might be, and be prepared to take those on. Keep a sharp eye on your body’s well being. Do it carefully. Be prepared for the risks, because yes, they exist. You can take them, that’s fine, but don’t pretend they aren’t real and serious.
  • Don’t wear a binder that is a size too small because the correctly sized one “shows too much”. Lung capacity is fucking important and you will crack a damn rib one of these days if you’re not careful. Do not overexert yourself in any binder; if it hurts or you feel faint or whatever then STOP, IMMEDIATELY. If you exercise in one, wear one at least a size up and throw baggy shirts on over it. Wear a velcro one if you can for working out so you can undo that shit ASAP if there’s an issue. If you go swimming in a binder, have someone spotting for you, make sure there’s a lifeguard at the pool, etc. You aren’t going to enjoy your wonderful transition very much if you, god forbid, wind up being in a serious accident because you’re suffocating yourself slowly.
  • You can bind safely. That is to say, you can bind while minimizing the risks as much as possible, til you reach a point where it’s reasonable for a well-informed, sensible person to weigh them up and take said risks. You cannot bind 100% consequence free. That’s all.
  • And look, just to get a bit tough-love for a second: “but if I don’t do all those things, my dysphoria is so bad I can’t cope” is something I fully, entirely sympathize with. It also means you gotta start working on management techniques so that ceases to be the case, NOT that you should just accept totally batshit levels of risk for the sake of your mental health. The solution to “my dysphoria is so bad that it destroys my life if I don’t bind in my sleep and wear it two sizes too tight” is not and should never be, “so I do it because it’s all right if I know accept the risk”. That’s not responsible, mature behaviour. It’s fully, entirely understandable. But you need, NEED to instead take the longer, more difficult path to finding healthy management techniques to improve your mental health and wellbeing so this is no longer the case, or else it’s going to bite you in the arse. You want to reach the end of your transition with the body you deserve, so you can finally feel right in it? Then look after it. Transition doesn’t give you a new body, it makes the one you’re in right now fit better, so look after the one you’re in.

Same as the previous campaign but now transported to the far side of the world and on a mountain top. Having climbed to the peak we found an ancient temple and a LOT of harpies in the highest most chamber. We were holding out well at first, but it was getting progressively worse, and by this point we are in a LOT of trouble.

DM to my wife “…and that brings you down to 4 health”

Me OOC “Is there a way i can replicate what we did in that mine? I could cover you two with my body while bringing the roof down on the remaining harpies.”

DM looks at me with an expression of defeat “Yes, technically if you were to combine the ring with the Sorcerer’s Enlarge person it should work just fine, but dont forget she’s having really bad luck with her Wild Magic.”

During the last few encounters every spell cast involved her activating it with a range of effects from turning water to blood and her speaking with pink bubbles.

Me OOC “Ill risk it.”

Me: Activates my ring “Raji, hit me with Enlarge person then both of you get under me!”

DM rolls for Wild Magic, it comes, and then

DM “No, no no no, NO!” Keeps rolling dice and checking notes.

Everyone “Oh god, are we all dead?”

DM “Roll dex saves to get under her”

Everyone passes the saves as the DM goes to get a drink refill and a moment later comes back white as a sheet.

After a moment my wife asked what was wrong. “…that potion of hers is still active, she just turned off the ring.”

Me “Wait wait.. so.. what size class am i becoming?”

DM reveals due to their alterations to the potion’s ability to multiply the effects of spells being added to the imbiber in successive increasing amounts, the still lingering effects, as well as a wild magic cast of growth, on top of my ring AND the newly cast Enlarge Person. “Large, To Huge, to Colossal, to.. Titanic i guess.. i.. no its PAST that.. like EIGHT freaking classes effectively… your now HALF the size of the mountain. The biggest mountain… but like.. you are now a good 6 miles tall.”

The party had been laughing pretty hard as i pointed out that i still had an action left this turn.

Me “I stomp onto the mountain and leave a footprint, (Note i am not wearing boots.) and next to it ‘write my name was here.’ ”

The DM has pretty much given up at this point, “Okay! Okay okay, you demolished the mountain and in its place you leave… a mile wide Draconic pawprint… lake. Anything else?”

Me IC to the party sitting on me.. somewhere “Now THATS how you leave an impression!”

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

also like TO be honest its very bizarre and alarming that so many people willingly subject themselves to this type of moralistic superior pissing contests where in order to engage with “problematic” media they must either continuously self flagellate or lash out at others because like.. i have ocd and ive been spending literally the past two years working on no longer doing this because it is horrible for my mental health and actively prevents me from having any leisure time whatsoever and its just like. the expected mindset on here. like if youre not doing this youre a bad person 

Far from done

LOOK AT THAT. I’M BACK. WITH A FIC. THIS IS CRAP. AND SHORT. BUT MY MENTAL HEALTH. IS OUT OF CONTROL. BUT THIS IS SOMETHING. ENJOY.

Prompt:  Okay,,, but like,,, Dan and he’s being vvv overstimulated, and he’s just making little noises,,, and he like tries to close his legs,, but like, Phil just opens them back up, and is like “Danny,we’re far from done” and dan is just like,,, whimpering and just ahhh (by anon)        also idk i changed it a lil and added some like aftercare n shit bc i felt like it

This is smut with overstimulation but also there’s fluff at the end. It’s all consensual, bc u know what my biggest kink is? Consent. 

A/N: Hahaha I feel like shit bc I’m taking so long with my fics and I have about two that i’m working on atm but I just can’t seem to finish any bc i’m a failure yay.. please be patient, i’ll write more soon, but my mental health is acting up real bad. (oh look there’s no daddy kink here is this me?)

784 words, it’s short i know

Dan was currently laying on the bed, thoroughly fucked out and whimpering. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead. It had started out like any other time, at the beginning just kissing a bit and then things took their course, but after they had both come down from their orgasms, Phil had just said one thing. “Remember. Safeword is red, got it?”. Dan had nodded before his hands were brought over his head and tied to the bedframe.

Keep reading

Listen my little chicks, my ducks, my darlings: Tumblr mom is fine. This is my life and I am used to it. Admitedly still going through the seven stages of grief over donuts, but that’s to be expected.

The reason I have been talking about this so much and so openly is not because things are worse, but because I have been told by several (hundred) people that it has helped them not only realize the nameless thing they have been suffering with their whole life and just thought was normal for them was actually an allergy, but also from other people with long term illnesses who didn’t realize the corelation between their chronic illness and food intolerances/issues–and neither did their doctors.

I’ve had people telling me that they recognized their own symptoms in the things I talk about, take themselves off to an allergist and find out, oh hey, I’m actually allergic to XYZ and it’s impacting my health I should stop doing that. I’ve had people thanking me cause they didn’t realize the synthetic scent in their gods damned fabric softener was triggering an allergy which manifested in anxiety attacks. I’ve had people tell me they didn’t realize the chemical dye/bleach in their menstrual products were actually the cause of excess discomfort at their time of the month and since switching to the brands I recommend, have had not only less skin irritations, but less infections like thrush and bv. I had someone tell me they figured out their kid wasn’t allergic to their dog but the egg used in the dog’s food brand, so everytime the kid got licked they’d break out in hives. They got to keep their dog, just swapped out the food brand.

I get people telling me on a consistent near daily basis, that me just talking about all this shit, has helped them feel less isolated, less alone with their problems which no one else seems to inderstand. Not even doctors. And I get that, because up until very recently, I also felt the same way. Sometimes I still do.

So if me bitching and griping about being allergic to things like potassium sorbate and trying to explain over and over that yes it is possible to have a rice intolerance, helps people?–I’m gonna keep talking about it.

This has been my life for a while now. Admitedly the last six weeks was awful because I caught that super virus bullshit that wrecked my system. But this? All this food stuff? Has been going on for years . I’m just finally getting a confirmed diagnosis from medical professionals because my symptoms got too bad to ignore.

Now, that said, there will be some people who don’t want to see all this. I get it, shits depressing yo, and you just clicked here for the vampire nipples. In that case I have a tag which I have been using for the last two years which is #chronic health tag. Blacklist it, you won’t see anymore of my posts about health. Everyone’s happy.

And I do mean happy, because as much as all this sucks I’ve got new answers to fit into the puzzle pieces of my health, and there’s a chance that one of these days I might just get to see the whole picture instead of just the corner pieces. And that’s good enough incentive for me to keep going.

So please, don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine. One of these days, it’s all gonna be fine.

Too Much (Ch. 1)

Summary: The next day after FP’s welcome home party and the breakups that came with it, Jughead and Archie find themselves with Cheryl at Pop’s. Cheryl straightens Archie out, and knocks some sense into Jughead. Does Jughead already know what she is telling him? Or does it all bring him guilt? How does he respond to Cheryl?

Word Count: 1018

Notes: Got this request in my messages :) I’m to be making it two chapters, I hope to have part 2 up as fast as I can!

Chapters: 1 2


Somehow, the next day after FP’s welcome home party at the Whyte Wyrm, Cheryl ended up in a booth at Pop’s with Archie and Jughead. The two boys weren’t even eating, and being that there was a burger in front of Jughead, that meant he was really upset. Archie was just staring ahead, silently listening to the voices of others in the diner. Cheryl looked at them back and forth, an amused smile on her lips.

After so long of staring at the pathetic boys, Cheryl cleared her throat. Jughead didn’t bother looked up from where his face was shoved between his arms on the table, but Archie turned to meet her gaze. “You two are even stupider than you look,” she said. She flipped her hair back as she took a sip of her milkshake, waiting for their responses.

“Why would she do that?” Jughead mumbled into his leather jacket. His head finally shot up. “She wants to become a Serpent.” He paused, staring ahead of him with wide, pained eyes. “She did a fucking strip tease in a bar full of perverted grown men,” he complained, fully not understanding what would possess Betty to do that. Her reasoning of protecting him did not click.

Archie glanced over to his friends. “At least she loves you,” he muttered coldly. Veronica just would not and could not say she loved him, so he was hurting too, but yes, he understood Jughead’s struggles.

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My sophomore year health teacher was terrible. She had two voices, monotone and loud monotone (for when she was emotional). She also regularly forgot to teach us things, so often times the “study” days before each test was taken up by a super quick lesson on something that would be on the test. She wasn’t a bad person, she just had no idea how to teach anything that wasn’t gym. At the end of the year she was asked to leave, supposedly because she called a kid fat, but I think it was worse then that, because we had substitute teachers for the last two weeks of school. Incidentally, that was also the weeks we covered genitalia, which the substitutes were completely unprepared for.

anonymous asked:

Just my two cents: as someone whose been overweight for many years due to mental health issues, Harry Potter was where I came to escape. What I've come to realise is that the way weight is used in terms of character notes has had a huge impact on how I view my weight in relation to if I'm a good or bad person. I don't care if JKR intentionally did what she did, but I've felt like a bad/irrelevant person for so long bc of how those characters are portrayed. These kinds portrayals hurt people.

This is going to be pretty much the last ask published on this particular matter, but anon, I totally feel you on this one. It’s really easy to internalise all of these negative images about yourself because of your weight, and it can be so damaging to your mental and physical health when you have this self-image based on negative media portrayals. I know I’ve had these issues, and I’m sure there are plenty of other people who have experienced this. Thanks for being brave enough to share, anon.

anonymous asked:

Can I request the Rfa+v+saeran with an Mc who's had a disease all of her life and they freak out over small stuff and she's completely calm... like she has a minor disease in her lungs that pinches off the veins and sometimes she'll just get up and go get her inhaler and calmly come back and act as if nothing happened

UWAAA SORRY THAT THIS TOOK A WHILE TO POST I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO WRITE

Originally posted by theminiguy01

Anyway, it’s all under the cut, for length ^^. Uhm, possible trigger warning?? Mentions of an unnamed lung disease

-

Yoosung

- the first time it happens, you’re cooking together

- when you just??????????? walk out????????

- f r e a k s out

- what did he do

- ‘MC ARE YOU OKAY, WHAT DID I DO I’LL FIX IT WHATS GOING ON AAAAAAAAAAA’

- he can’t leave the kitchen though, or the food’ll burn

- so worried that he did something wrong that he hugs you and tells you he’s sorry over and over when you come back

- you just laugh and hug back, telling him you’re fine and you just needed your inhaler

- Wants to know everything about the disease (or everything that you’re comfortable with him hearing) so he can help you out

- searches it up on Nahoo

- always makes sure you have your inhaler with you literally 24/7

- asks you every time you step out the front door

- ‘MC, do you have your-

- ‘YES

- calm down you’ve been dealing with this for all of your life ok

- he only wants you to be happy and healthy

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@systemofadave submitted: 

 There hasn’t been a single day which I could say was easy.

I’ve maintained this weight for two years and I am starting to lose some more weight to reach my goal. (About 70lbs left). Last time, the support on Tumblr was amazing. Sharing hints and tips, motivational reposts, reading others success stories and failures. It never feels so bad when you have others doing the same thing and knowing just how hard it really is. 

Looking at progress pictures make me realise that it’s worth it. And I’d say that again a million times.

See more Before and After weight loss pictures  or  SUBMIT yours.

Wait For Me: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader // Part Two

Request:  Could you please write a fanfic about remus being a mess bc of the full moon (totally nervous/moody before and injured/tired after) and the reader being worried and comforting him? lots of fluff but kinda in sad way.

A/N: Okay, so, I might have gone just a bit over board with this one…

This is part two, and the final part of Wait For Me. I apologize for taking so long to get this up. It was supposed to go up, like, five-ish days ago but it was written so half-assed that I didn’t want to put it up. I still don’t think it’s my greatest work, it could totally be written better but I feel like this was the best I could do right now. (I’ve been writing this part for over a week, help me.)

Enjoy! ♥

Word Count: 2700 (Yeah…I know.)

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

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Please read

Hey guys. So… I’ve been thinking. 
I create content pretty much everyday, spend hours and hours on it and I get your notes, your gratitude, amazing comments and I love it, don’t get me wrong… but this won’t pay for my medications. I’m 21, have no job and I still have to ask my mom for money. She pays for my meds, for my clothes, for everything and I feel like shit about it. We’re not rich. We don’t really have much money. My dad had to leave to work in Germany because his job here wasn’t good enough anymore. And yeah, it’s easy to say “just look for a job lol”, the thing is I have been looking but I’m not in good health. I’m struggling with several mental illnesses that make my normal life hard enough, not even mentioning actually going out to people and working. Not with social anxiety that suddenly got worse. I’m taking various meds, I’m going to therapy and I’m seeing psychiatrist every month. It all costs money and I feel so bad when my mom has to pay for it. That’s why I’m considering adding ad.fly to my links… Don’t get scared, just one, not two. If you have adfly skipper it would take you straight to the download so yeah… I would have to make a wixsite or something, cause tumblr doesn’t allow that. It’s gonna take a lot of work. But I’m actually writing this to ask for your opinion. Would you be okay with that?

Gym/health was the worst for me freshmen year. Our teacher wasn’t there the first two days of school and then when he did come he was really bad. And then about a month later he just stopped coming to school and a lot of us never knew what happened. Apparently he got fired for physically fighting a student.

Cue us getting a new teacher from renaissance who wasn’t in the school system for a month and a half so we didn’t get grades that entire time. And we learned the same thing every week of health.

Then my sophomore year my new health teacher expected my class to know everything taught in the textbook. It wasn’t until me and three other kids explained about the previous teacher we had did we actually LEARN about health.

saturday the 7th of october, 2017.

hello all,

i feel as though i should update you all, as i’ve just hit 4.6k followers.

as some of you may know, i’m nineteen and self studying for my a levels, with hope of taking them in the summer of 2018. unfortunately, my mental health has been really quite bad lately and as a result, i’ve spent the last two weeks in and out of inpatient treatment at a psychiatric hospital. the future of my studying is unknown, as due to the nature of my disorder, i struggle to cope with daily life. as of right now, i’m going to be focusing mainly on my treatment, and doing some studying whenever i feel able to.

sometimes in the midst of all the aesthetic studyblr posts, we forget the struggles that goes on behind the scenes. we are not all perfect students, we are not all on track, and we are not all able to attend school. keep that in mind when you feel disheartened.

“it doesn’t matter how slow you go, so long as you do not stop.”

sentence starters based off things my friend has said while drunk

i’m going kung-fu-panda on this bitch. ❞ 
it’s the motion of the bro-tion. ❞ 
you’ve challenged me to do it. challenge accepted. i’m doing it. ❞ 
i don’t like this game. ❞ 
don’t give her the hat - DAMMIT, YOU GAVE HER THE HAT! ❞ 
i’m surprisingly alert. ❞ 
i can literally drive right now. ❞ 
my hand eye coordination is still perfect…not that perfect, but pretty perfect. ❞ 
she tricked me! ❞ 
let’s do it until i horribly injure myself. ❞ 
of course it was good, everything i do is good. ❞ 
that was weak, and i blame you. ❞ 
wasting precious time?! it’s 4:30 in the morning! ❞ 
OH JESUS CHRIST
one out of two. not bad. ❞ 
you better eat your words! ❞ 
she’s asking nicely, just give the little lady what she wants! ❞ 
OH, SHIT! THAT WENT SO MUCH BETTER IN MY HEAD! ❞ 
you’re distressing me with all this violence. ❞ 
you’re really crushin’ my mellow.
GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE, COACH! ❞ 
you put it on the sex couch, dammit! ❞ 
oh yes, please, touch the dirty, sex weight! ❞ 
you made contact with the sex weight, OH NO! ❞ 
i’m just lookin’ out for your health, you gotta stay hydrated. ❞ 
lucky i got these jeans to protect my delicate penis.
soldier down.
listen to your friend, she’s obviously very wise. ❞ 
i’m so delicate. a delicate flower. ❞ 
i’m not afraid of licking a candle. you got me all wrong. ❞ 
bitch, you know i can twerk. ❞ 
dance off, right now, it’s happening. ❞ 
❝  that looked like it hurt. for you. ❞ 
i’m just drunk enough to have no inhibitions. ❞ 
don’t act like you know my story, bitch.
my lap dance skills are a little rusty, so i hope you’ll forgive me.
these are the eyes of a man with nothing to lose. ❞ 
i mean - fuck, whip it out, bro. ❞ 
obviously i’ve done shit since fifth grade, i’m a flippin’ baller. ❞