this is for my lost therapy

2

i have been alive for 360 days after trying to take my own life. i sit here in this airport a year later, passport in hand, with a full backpack but an even fuller heart. in 3 hours i will be on a plane to a country ive never been to. today ive taken 2 trains, 6 subways, and countless steps in the right direction. don’t get me wrong ive tripped and fallen in the last year(literally) but i have gotten up every time. the world has continued to throw punches at me and a few of them stung but nonetheless they healed in time and i got right back in the ring. this world may be throwing punches but I’m throwing them back now. i have been given every reason to give up, but i am here, i am standing, and i am breathing. I AM HERE. and that is worth something. so heres to being resilient, heres to being a fighter, and heres to a year of crazy, a year of having my medication changed so many times i lost count, to countless therapy sessions, late night drives, tears, bruises, to the days i couldn’t get out bed, shower, or even go to class, but heres to scoring the game winning goal, hitting a new PR in the gym, and laughing til i cried, heres to jumping out of bed today, heres to being alive after being given every reason not to be. and heres to the ticket ill be holding a year from now, to somewhere new, because i will be here. i will be alive.

therapy

i’ve sat here for hours
And talked to you about everything
what i feel
what i know
who i like
the emotions i don’t show

you know everything about me
and it’s scary
the way i walk
the way i talk
my mental status
and my racing heart

you know the bad things about me
the things i don’t tell
you know i drink
you know i smoke
my sexuality
the ways i cope

you know i’m not sane
but i’m “stable” enough to be alone
i’ll stay in bed
cut my thighs
sleep off the pain
and dry my eyes

When I was born, my Grampy gave me the nickname “Penny”. Penny is me in my purest, most authentic form. On July 19th 2012, I lost my brother Miyagi to an inoperable brain tumor. He was 26. My brother and I were very close. We were only 2 years apart. I never thought of him as a separate person, but an extension of myself. He was my reflection. In his presence I was confident and always so sure… I was Penny. Since that day I have been incomplete, losing all direction and sense of self. Since that day I have been lost trying to find him… trying to find my way back to my self… back to Penny. I turn to writing as my form of therapy, but it’s never quite enough. I released 2 projects since then, but I wasn’t quite myself. I try to find my brother’s love in other men, but they never can compare. I try to get closer to my brother by doing different drugs, hoping that if I get high enough I can reach him, but they only take me further away. I distract myself with work, which buys me things I wish I could share with him. I distract myself with work, which causes stress I wish he were here to help me with. The presence of my daughter, my siblings, my parents… only make his absence more apparent. And so, I find myself taking trips, trying to escape any person, place or thing that is too familiar. Physical trips by car, by plane… Mental trips with controlled substances… Trips in solitude in hopes that the quiet will bring me and my brother back together. Through out these travels I’ve been keeping a record of my dreams, feelings and experiences in notebooks. I turned these notebooks into a MAP. a Movie (TRIP short film), an Album (TRIP) and a Poetry book (2fish) This map has been helping me navigate through my suffering, uncovering the righteous path that has been carved out before and for me… Helping me identify my pain and my mistakes so that I can move forward and reach my full potential and find the light at the end of the tunnel… My personal “hero’s journey". and although I am not there yet… I know I’m getting closer. This map was made by me, for me… but I feel obligated to share because I know that I am not alone in my suffering. If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that every single person on this planet is suffering. Not a single soul in this world is immune to the pain of losing someone they love. The reality of this life is, at some point we will all lose someone we love. In sharing this MAP, I hope to inspire others to be more present in the lives of the people they love. I hope this MAP encourages honesty, empathy and compassion. In sharing this MAP, I hope to inspire others to share their own mistakes, imperfections and fears… because I believe in doing so we can understand each other better and realize we are more alike than different. In sharing this MAP, I hope to inspire others to share their grief and pain because I believe suffering can be alleviated when we understand we are not going through any of it alone. - Jhené Aiko Efuru “Penny” Chilombo

🗺🎒📘
Camren at a Couple Therapy
  • Therapist: So let's start by-
  • Camila: I have questions for you...
  • Therapist: That's a good start. Camila go ahead.
  • Camila: Do you care?
  • Lauren: Of course I do! When I wake up all alone. And I'm thinking of your skin I remember, I remember what you told me.
  • Camila: Then why did you leave me here to burn?
  • Therapist: Okay maybe we should start with a less intense conversation. Lauren do you want to say something?
  • Lauren: She's never listening, she says it's innocent. She doesn't let me have control anymore.
  • Camila: What are you talking about? I gave you all of me. My blood, my sweat, my heart, and my tears.
  • Lauren: Well, I'm tired. I must've crossed a line, I must've lost my mind.
  • Camila: I was there Lauren, I was there, when no one was.
  • Lauren: I know. I miss the memories replaying in my head.
  • Camila: And your voice, it was the most familiar sound but it sounds so dangerous to me now.
  • Lauren: I'm sorry you have to feel that way. I miss the thought of a forever, you and me.
  • Camila: But now you're gone and I'm here. Is it my fault? How do I fix it?
  • Therapist: Time is up! What a productive session. I'll see you both next Wednesday. Great progress Camren!
how to embrace change
  1. clear your mind: go on a walk or straight to your bedroom. try to rid your mind of thoughts and voices that shout in your head, each begging for attention. when you feel calm and rational, think the situation over.
  2. give yourself a break: some time where you let yourself ( and others around you ) know that you’re dealing with some stuff and you choose to take care of yourself. longer showers, distracting movies & books and other little pleasures like cooking good meals could help you regain a position of balance. spa days can be your best friends. 
  3. realize what you can and can’t control: if there is anythiing you can do, do it. if there are some things you have no power over, quit blaming yourself for them. understand that you have nothing to do about it anymore and that everything will fall into place very soon. let go. 
  4. replace old habits that serve you no use: these habits hold you down and keep you glued to the self you were. but any big change is actually the opening to a new road. the first step is to detox your ritualic methods.
  5. view the bigger picture: look at the “ problem “ and ask yourself what doors does this open? if you lost a job you disliked then you have the opportunity to get your career on the correct path. if you lost a lover, you gained time for your projects, friends, and self growth
  6. take a new look at your wishes: are they the same? if not, adapt your goals to the new you
  7. accept yourself through the transformation process: don’t hate the you that you are in the middle of the transition. always keep your eyes on the self you want to achieve. that better version of yourself needed to be in all these bad and good situations to get there. 

That’s it! Watch my video  for tons of more info on the topic and my quirky personality obvs. Ly!

I’m the asexual who was sent to conversion therapy as a young teen.

I’m the asexual who thought they were messed up, and broken, and all alone.

I’m the asexual who was told by people who I thought were my friends that God didn’t approve of my ‘alternative’ lifestyle.

I’m the asexual who felt lost in the clothing isles because I didn’t want to look ‘sexy’.

I’m the asexual that struggles with depression, fear, and inadequacy.

I’m the asexual that is being blocked off from resources. Or that you want out of the LGBTQ+ community.

I’m the asexual who is being negatively affected by the ace discourse.

I’m the asexual facing erasure, invalidation, and hate.

Please consider this.

Aphobia exists.

If you don’t believe it does then you may very well be contributing to it.

Please think of the people you are effecting.

Be kind.

Be compassionate.

Please.

#transformationtuesday I’ve been beating myself up recently for the extra “chub” but then I looked back at the video I made when I was rock bottom. My mental health was in bits, I could hardly function having panic attacks daily, thoughts that I was worthless and life wasn’t worth living or would never get better I was at my biggest I hadn’t left my house in 18 months and was in agony with sciatica. I look back now seeing the weight I lost, now in therapy, getting out daily and feeling although at times I spiral life will get better. I can’t stress enough how much things can and will change you just have to hang on in there and fight for it. ✨✨✨✨✨✨

I’m sitting on the floor and crying my eyes off. I feel so alone, does anyone even realise my struggle is real? that i’m in so much mental pain, standing on the edge of the cliff. Thinking about jumping, ending it all.
Not a medication or therapy can make me better. I hug my mom and say nothing, I can’t hurt her again, I just want to be with her a little longer.
I’m so scared, so physically and mentally exhausted. I sit under the shower because my legs are too weak for standing.
I’m so full of bad thoughts, full of anxiety and pain. I let part of it out with the blood, but it’s not helping. I’m trapped and so lost.

And again this writing will just fade away, get lost between other messages. And it will mean nothing

Emergency: Abuse/donations/Support

For those who don’t want to read skip to the tl;dr for the gist of it.

Hey guys, I’m sorry to make a post about this and I can’t ass a pretty picture, if anyone cares to lend an ear please. My families abuse on me has increased and gotten worse, I’m not being fed and I can’t even get a job (the Refuse to take me to interviews, or to the actual place I need to work) and when I get money form whatever job I get they take it, but food and I get none of it. I tried to bring this to attention to this before. This a sue started sophomore year in high school and just gradually got worse, yes CPS was called but of course they didn’t do anything, I’ve told therapist, my friends and everything and nothing. My boyfriend is unwilling to let me move into his apartment with him at the end of the month because he says I don’t have a job. (Yes i told him that’s awful thing to say) I’ve put effort it o getting and finding a job and effort into trying to get out of this house. I to inform everyone that there is a possibility that all the power in my room will be shut off because my older cousin believes I don’t deserve power in my room if I can’t get a job (yet he’s the one who hit me and kicked me a few times as well). They value our dog over me. I’ve asked for help about my severe depression and other mental health problems including my bi-polar disorder. Instead of taking me to a doctor, my grandma got my brother therapy even though he doesn’t want it (he’s also depressed but doesn’t want the help). My brother, has no job, also depressed and doesn’t do anything all day hasn’t given my grandma money, he doesn’t pay rent, and or do chores. I am depressed, I do chores, I pay with whatever cash the can mange to milk off of me. He’s fed everyday I’m left literally nothing, I’ve lost weight, I’m constantly sick and I’m lying to my one or two irl friends that I’m healthy and well. I can’t sleep, I don’t have proper medicine to deal with my asthma, anemia, or my insomnia. I’ve tried sleeping remedies melatonin and all that. I’ve asked for help multiple times and got nothing. If you can donate or support I have buttons on my page for that. (PayPal and Kofi) I’ll even do a bunch of 5 dollar sketch commissions so I can at least get some good or save money so I can at least move in with my boyfriend even if it’s temporarily. Im in desperate need of help. I’m not sure I can’t keep up being “strong” anymore. I’m close to giving up.

Tl;Dr: My family is abusing me, I want to get away, I’m starving. Please help me.

Hideous lol

allergic-addiction  asked:

Do you know anything about grief? If so, my character Vivian spent 6 months with a group of friends and fell in love with another character. The character he fell in love with head over heels for dies the night after they kiss. How would this grief affect active fighting ?

My grandmother on my mother’s side died when I was eleven, my father died when I was thirteen (the day after my birthday), my dog died a day before my college graduation, and my grandfather on my father’s side died from Alzheimer’s a few years ago. That’s not counting the friends and non-blood related family members who’ve died over the years.

So, yeah, I’ve got a little experience with grief, and grief counseling, and therapy, and… well, other people who’ve also lost friends and family.

I will say upfront that experience with grief can’t be faked when translating it into a fiction. You’ve either lost someone or you haven’t. You will never truly understand until you’ve experienced it yourself. And, if you haven’t, honestly, I hope you don’t join this unhappy club for a very long time.

Grief happens in stages, we consider them as five to be exact. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. There is no one size fits all here, or rules, no guidelines for the amount of time it takes because we work through it in our own time. You can and often do go through all five just to accept the physical truth someone you love has died, then all over again with the emotional fallout in the months even years afterward. It’s possible to go forward and back between the stages, and it isn’t a steady process. I’ve come to terms with a lot of the deaths in my life, but some took around a decade to reach the acceptance stage.

In initial the months after my father died, I waited to hear his car coming up the driveway at the time he usually arrived home from work (around 5:30). Anytime the doorknob turned, I’d feel a small bit of hope that it’d be him walking in. I still hope, sometimes, nearly twenty years later, that he’ll come through the door.

I tried to hold on to what he sounded like when I realized a month later I was forgetting. I managed a single word, the name of a friend’s father.

The problem with writing grief if you’ve never experienced it is this: you will over focus on the emotion and forget the detail.

Grief is not being able to remember where you live when you dial 911 for the ambulance. It’s the adrenaline leaving your hands shaking when you reach for the body, and the cold stiffness beneath your hands. The chalky white skin, and one eyelid half open. A frozen, milky, blue-white pupil pointed nowhere.  The faint, sour smell in the air. The way you shake it, and shake it, and shake it like that’ll bring the body back to life.

The way you still describe it as the body years later instead of referring to it as him and in second person instead of first.

Grief is never being able to watch Oliver and Company again.

This detail is part of why it’s so difficult to describe or write grief if you’ve never experienced the loss of a loved one first hand. You’ve also got to describe that loss through the eyes of your character, re-imagine it so the experience is not only tailored to their experiences but laser specific to those exact moments when they learned or came to the realization someone they loved died. One of the first things to understand about death in fiction is that it won’t do the work for you.

My father died a week before my first degree black belt test, and I’d just turned thirteen. I honestly can’t remember much about that week. It was Spring Break, so I didn’t have to go to school. My days were mostly filled with martial arts and emptiness. There were moments I’d remember, then grow sad or try to avoid it by focusing on what was coming ahead of me. People told me how brave I was, clapped when I came back to training a day later, but the truth is that doing that was easier than remembering what happened. I was in the shock stage all the way through the test. Numb to the world, I didn’t feel anything. Not pride, not happiness, not “oh good we’re done now”, nothing at all. It wasn’t bravery, so much as it just was. The world moved around me and the rest of it was gray.

In that moment, I became “the Girl Whose Father Died The Week Before Her Test” in the organization and everyone knew who I was for years afterwards.

However, the moment I really broke down was when I returned to class afterwards and began to cry when one of my classmates pushed a crossword onto my desk that read “Father”. I cried so hard, then I went out into the hallway and cried through the rest of the class that day.

That’s one experience, though. Like I said, there’s no one size fits all and every experience is unique. If you’ve got a character whose lost a lot of people over the years, then it does get easier.

However, if you’re writing a character who experiences death on the regular then their experience is going to be different. You could get someone who numbs themselves out to the world, defers the loss until later, and deals with it then. A person for whom “doing things” is them showing their grief. They could crumple up into a ball, give up and just cry. They could get angry to the point they want to kill the person who took their loved one and want to kill them. They could be compromised to the point of they are incapable performing their job, and need to be scrubbed from a mission for their safety and their teammates.

They could get triggered by the violence to the point where they lock up and can’t mentally face it anymore, where it becomes too much for them to handle. Sometimes, they break all the furniture in their apartment. Sometimes, they don’t clean out the other side of the closet for six years. They may get angry and lash out at those close to them who aren’t experiencing this death as keenly as they are. Or the might do it just because, without reason. They might close themselves off from everyone they know and love. Wall up out of fear of losing another person, find it difficult to build new connections. Become a different person.

Or, rarely, they could be completely fine. Or, seem like they’re fine on the surface. Others who are suffering will get pissed at them if they’re fine. When it seems like you’re fine, others will call you a monster. How dare they.

Grief is not guaranteed to get you killed in combat, but it can. It leads to stupid mistakes because you’re mentally compromised, even when you don’t realize it. We run from it sometimes. It’s so big, and heavy, and dark, crashing down all at once with no easy answers. No platitude satisfies. Numb, angry, stricken, despairing, you can move through these states so rapidly that it’s almost impossible to follow. Grief just is.

In a situation where you need to be able to focus or your life and those around you are at risk, then grief becomes detrimental. If you’re mentally compromised and refuse to recognize it then it will only put others at risk. Many people will insist they are “fine”. That it doesn’t affect them, that they can still work. It does though. It will. As a result, events can be disastrous in the fallout.

Even if they can fight, revenge isn’t satisfying. It’s empty. Grief-fueled rampages will only lead to more sadness and more emptiness and a re-experiencing of the loss all over again. Usually, it causes more tragedy.

How will your character react? I don’t know.

How does grief affect fighting, even years afterward? It can be really bad, my friend. Really goddamn bad.

You’ve got to find an equilibrium in your mind and acceptance, real acceptance too. You can’t just tell yourself you’ve accepted it, and that difference can be difficult to grasp.

Understand loss is not the cause of grief, and not death itself. We will grieve lost relationships and broken down friendships, when what we love disappears from our grasp. Don’t assume it’s in the death, look at the loss and how they feel about them being gone.

As a writer, your answer is they need to find a way to come to terms with this loss and that is a journey without an easily defined destination. I mean “come to terms” and not “get over”. Loss is with you forever, but whether we accept it or it continues to haunt us will be up to the person in question.

From me to you, here are some ways I dealt with my father’s death in my teenage years:

1) I went to counseling.

2) I read all the books of his on the shelf that I could scrounge from my parent’s bedroom, even when I didn’t like them. I still have a few of his fantasy hardbacks squirreled away.

3) I tried to play Star Wars: Tie Fighter.

4) I cried when I tried to tackle the Walkers in Rogue Squadron 2, because I’d always run to him and beg him to help me pass the level.

5) I’d go smell the shirts my mom left when she refused to clean out his side of the closet until they didn’t smell like him anymore. Then, I felt sad all over again.

6) I dedicated my open form during my second degree test to him, and picked a really sappy country song.

7) I read and re-read L.E. Modesitt Jr’s entire “Saga of Recluse” over and over again because Colors of Chaos was the first fantasy book my dad handed me to read.

8) I named my Sovereign Class ship in Star Trek Online after him.

I once sat with another student at college and we commiserated over our shared bond as members of the “Dead Parents Club”, telling stories about how our parents died and laughing about where we were now. To another student, who’d never experienced what we had, this seemed incredibly insensitive, they were confused, and they said so.

We said, “Dead Parents Club”. Then another student who’d recently lost their aunt asked if they could join us, and we expanded to members of the “Dead Relatives Club”.

It’s not all sadness and pain, misery and angst. In fact, if you go this route then it’s not really real. Much as it might seem like it on the surface, grief isn’t the same as literary angst. You need to show, not tell and that begins with actions. Start figuring out how this loss affects your character before you take a stab at how it’s affecting their ability to fight. Grief is about individuals, and there are no easy answers. Only actions, decisions, and struggle for good or ill.

-Michi

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anonymous asked:

MC having cute aggression towards the RFA member they're with. (Cute aggression {or its at least what I like to call it} is when you just find your significant other so cute you just wanna bite them... Or eat them up *wink wonk*)

OH THATS AN AWESOME NAME FOR IT, in Tagalog “Gigil” is the closest term, like you want to put your hands or teeth into something because it’s so damn cute… and trying to hold back… but let’s be honest… who holds back? *chomps on Nonny-Chan’s arm… oops… perhaps some restraint is best*

*MC bites Yoosung on the arm* 

Yoosung: “H-Hey! Ow! That h-hurts! W-why did you do that?”
MC:” If it hurts so much… why are you blushing? Did you, did you like that it hurt?”
Yoosung (blushing intensifies): “No… I mean… maybe?”
MC: “Would you like me to try again?”
Yoosung (offering his arm): “I… if you want?”
MC bites his neck instead
Yoosung: “Oh!”


*grabs Zen by the arms and squeezes*
Zen: “Jagi! If you wanted a gun show you only had to ask!” (flexes)
MC: “N-no that’s not it, I just couldn’t hold back my affection for you and I had to squeeze you!”
Zen (smiling fondly): Awww Jagi, you’re too perfect for words!
MC:”… I didn’t tell you to stop the gun show though.”
Zen continues flexing.


*pinches Jaehee’s cheeks*

Jaehee: “MC we’re at work! This isn’t appropriate!”
MC (now draped over Jaehee’s shoulders and hugging her in front of customers) “Awww but honey you’re so damn pretty! I can’t help it! Every time i see you I just wanna smoosh that lovely face of yours and hug you and pinch you and love you-”
Jaehee (blushing and smiling apologetically): “Yes, Yes okay fine- continue pinching my cheeks.” 
MC squeals and continues to pinch, Jaehee sighs just happy her girlfriend has stopped nauseating their customers with her affection. Just wait until they got out the back… then HER pinching would begin.


*
hugs Jumin around the waist and starts aggressively swinging him side to side*
Jumin: “I… as… uh… sweet as all this… is… MC… why are you… shaking… me?”
MC: “Because I love you and I can’t get enough of you and I just want you all to myself and I can’t take it!!!”
Jumin (dialling a number): “Yes, Assistant Kang. Cancel all meetings for today- MC is in dire need of help… well if you must know Assistant Kang, in dire need of me… Assistant Kang? Hello? Hmm… I think we lost connection. Now where were we? Ahhh yes… continue heaving me about as you will my dear.” 
Jumin smiles as he sways along in his wife’s embrace, can’t get over how cute she’s being… thinks perhaps this could be a new natural therapy they could introduce at C & R- Hug it out… hmm… 


*bites Saeyoung on the earlobe*
Saeyoung: “MC… don’t start a game you can’t win.” 
*bites Saeyoung on the jaw*
Saeyoung: “I’m giving you fair warning here MC.” 
*bites Saeyoung on the collarbone as she slides to sit on his lap*
Saeyoung (dramatically sighing): “It seems we are at an impasse my dear. I’m trying to work and you’re sitting there giggling while biting me… There’s only one thing to do- bite you back until your giggling stops and your begging begins…”
MC: “Saeyoung!”
Saeyoung: “Yes, a marvellous start. Now just add… please at the end!”


*aggressively massages at Saeran’s cheeks*
Saeran: What are you doing woman? 
MC: “URGH! I CAN’T TAKE HOW CUTE YOU ARE! SERIOUSLY! HAVE YOU SEEN YOURSELF IN A MIRROR?! YOU’RE SO DAMN PERFECT!”
Saeran: “Is that why you’re trying to rearrange my face with your incessant pawing?”
MC: “YES!”
Saeran: “Is it helping… this… whatever this is?” 
MC: “KINDA!”
Saeran (sighing): “Okay then. But when you’re done, it’s my turn.”
MC:”Sure Saeran, you can play with my face!”
Saeran: “Wrong cheeks MC.” 

*nuzzles into V’s neck and bites his shoulder*
V: “A-Ah! Is there a reason why you suddenly want to eat me?”
MC: “I always want to eat you, today however- you’re just ridiculously adorable and I had to have a taste!”
V (blushing): “You are welcome to MC, anytime.” 
MC (blushing right back): “I… I meant that in a non-sexual way…”
V (blushing intensifies): “M-me too.” 
MC: “But… if the offer is on the table…”
Bites V’s neck hard enough to leave a mark. 
MC: “Hmmmm, delicious.” 

2

hey im in desperate need of financial aid and any and all help will be greatly appreciated,

recently i discovered a sore in my therapy cats mouth meaning she possibly developed an oral disease, she’s barley been eating or drinking due to pain, it kills me to see her like this
she means the world to me and i don’t know what I’d ever do if i lost her

im an autistic native and I’m begging for aid to get her the treatment she needs, if i can’t pay the vet bills i will be forced to surrender her, please boost this or help out if you can i just want my baby to be healthy again

paypal.me/76txt

6

anonymous said: Lockscreens for The Beach, Cinderblock Garden, Runaways, Let It Roll, or Lost In Stereo? (No rush tho <3)

all time low inspired lock screens pt. 3/?? requested by anonymous. I threw in a ‘therapy’ lock screen because  I very much like having an even number :) please like/reblog is you use/save any of them! 

I knew SJM was going to heal Chaol. It’s the entire premise for the book, so of course she would. I just had no idea it would feel like this.

I know I made a vague post about Tower of Dawn, but then I tried to go to sleep and realised I was still pissed so here’s a detailed account of what the phrase “get up” means to me, an actual disabled person, rather than SJM, an abled person who decided to write a disabled character being healed by nothing but those two magic words.

So here’s what get up means to me:

It started with sleeping in. It got harder to wake up every morning. My parents were convinced that I just wasn’t motivated enough, so they kept telling me to (guess what) get up. Because that’s what you say to a moody teen that won’t get out of bed, right?

Then, I started falling asleep in class. I developed a rash over my legs that made walking painful, and the pain felt like it seeped into my bones over time, leaving my legs painful constantly. I walked oddly, stiffly, around the house and at school, and it aggravated a knee injury I had from a car accident 3 years prior, one that I thought had healed within 2 months of the accident. I was wrong, and I’ve continued to be wrong to this day. The rash healed, but my knee did not.

Eventually, I stopped going to school. I tried multiple doctors until I found one that my mother liked. This doctor seemed to believe that I should be woken at 7am every morning, come hell or high water. She misdiagnosed me with an autoimmune disease (easy to do, given that CFS bears striking similarities in some cases) and subsequently viewed my chronic fatigue as a symptom of a greater problem, one she could treat with vitamins, antidepressants, a  better diet, more sunlight, etc, etc.

She was wrong.

I, being 14, didn’t get to say that she was wrong. I didn’t get to say that it hurt me when I went to physiotherapy under her orders and was forced onto the rowing machine. I didn’t get to say that it hurt me to do stretches sometimes, that it upset me when I was told to stop being lazy, to get up. I sure as hell didn’t get to tell my parents to stop trying to wake me up at 7am.

My fatigue grew worse. Soon, I got delirious when my mother tried to wake me, often having no memory of her waking me the first few times. She’d insist that I spoke to her when she woke me, that I acknowledged her, but I couldn’t remember. I’d wake at noon after 5 hours of being woken up every 10 minutes with no memory of being woken previously. I thought I was going crazy.

And through it all, I was told to get up.

Soon, I figured out that pain kept me awake. To stop myself from falling asleep in class and getting into trouble, I started beating my injured knee. It never bruised or bled, but it kept me awake. It helped me get up. I wasn’t to know that that would leave me with an injured knee to this day.

Soon, it escalated to me being unable to stay awake for more than 4 or 5 hours at a time. My school attendance was adjusted to only half-days, until even that grew too much for me. Sleep became painful, and I had to prop my knee up on a certain angle to keep the pain at bay for long enough to get the rest I needed, waking every time I shifted in my sleep.

Desperate, my parents and doctor cooked up a plan to admit me to a hospital for what they called “sleep therapy”. Basically, medical personnel would do exactly what my mother had, only they’d enforce a curfew, take away my laptop and electronic devices at night, force me into an exercise regimen, and, in my doctor’s words, “reset me”. After my experiences with physiotherapy, I was terrified of having no voice there.

Thankfully, we moved away at that point, and I lost touch with my doctor. Being admitted to that hospital became impossible given the distance, so I started at a new school with new kids. I had to explain my illness to every teacher I had, because none of them knew I was disabled. Apparently there’s no memo-type arrangement for that. It was mortifying. On my first day I was forced to walk the marathon track through the bush. I was 16, but I couldn’t articulate to them in a way they respected that it wasn’t just a matter of willpower, whether or not I could walk the track.

Turned out, it was. I willed myself through the track because I was embarrassed. I got through the day. Because I’m that strong and inspiring, right?

When I got home, I collapsed. I spent the next 24 hours in bed, unable to even get up to pee. All I did was take pain medication, eating when I needed to to take stronger doses. I barely remember the next 3 days after that, spending most of the time sleeping in bed, sleeping on the couch, or sleeping in the shower.

I received no apology from the school.

Eventually, I got up again. I went back. Months passed, and even though I only attended intermittently, I was soon appointed as a Student Leader. I have a loud personality, when I’m awake, so I guess they figured it would be useful in some capacity. I expressed concern about attending the student leadership training day, but was informed that I couldn’t become a student leader if I didn’t. So I went, having been assured that it was indoors.

It wasn’t.

First was a hike up a cliff. I almost fell over three times, convinced that if I did I’d never live it down. My knee gave out once, but I managed to stay upright. Several of my peers joked about me looking exhausted because I “wasn’t used to exercise”.

We sat down at the top of the hill, then. You know how, if you have an injury, it feels worse the next morning when you wake up? For me, sitting down without heat packs applied to my joints does the same thing. I’ll always hurt more when I get up.

So, sitting on the hard ground for half an hour listening to some camp counsellor talk wasn’t ideal. When it came time to leave, I knew I’d be so much worse.

It took me several tries to stand. Several people deemed it necessary to tell me to get up.

We walked back to the main house and sat inside for a while, talking. I was not provided with a comfortable chair, as they were few and far between and I was lagging behind the group. No one offered me one. I was the last to arrive, so I sat on the floor. Because that’s fair, right?

Later that afternoon, we were broken into groups for a scavenger hunt around the woods. I objected, informing a teacher that I was tired, but he told me that if I stayed in the house someone would have to stay to supervise me, and everyone was getting involved in the hunt. The same teacher that promised me there was no physical activity involved in the trip made me feel like my pain was a burden while I was trying to learn how to be a leader.

I got up.

I went through the motions of the scavenger hunt, sitting down on the ground and rocks where I could. Not because the pain would stop, but because my legs felt like jelly and the amount of time I could spend on them was decreasing. The more we walked away from the main house, the more panicked I got. What if I couldn’t walk back to the house? I didn’t have a wheelchair, or anything to help me get there. I voiced my concerns to the other members of my group, but they informed me that I was being dramatic and it was “just a little bit longer”.

I did make it back to the bus. I limped into my mother’s car at the school where we met up, and fell asleep immediately.

When we arrived home, I had to walk out of the car and into my bedroom, which was up a flight of stairs at that time. I fell over at the bottom and bawled my eyes out, practically crawled up them, and had to have food and water brought to me for 3 days afterwards.

All because they told me to get up. Get up from the ground, get up from my chair, get up the cliff–I had to do it, right?

I received no apology. I dropped out of high school a few months later.

Get up doesn’t cure disabilities. It puts us in danger. I don’t get up anymore. I roll out of bed after 12 hours of hibernation, but I don’t get up. I don’t set alarms. People don’t wake me (deliberately). Physically, I don’t really get up anymore. Not like this. Getting up for me means sitting up, tying my hair back, and getting to work on my novel. That’s getting up. Sometimes I can’t even do that.

I knew SJM was going to heal Chaol. I’d accepted that. I just had no idea it would feel like I never want to get up again.

on the may 15th fansign, mental health, darkness, and hope

on May 15, 2015, during 화양연화 Pt. 1 I went to BTS’ fansign at Sinchon and had a conversation with Namjoon that I, at the time, chose not to reveal for personal reasons. at that time, because of that decision, there were a lot of people who criticized me—people accused me of saying something mean to him, accused me of hiding some secret relationship between us, called me a slut, etc. I didn’t say anything about it at the time because it seemed pointless, but now that 화양연화 has come to an end for real, and following the release of YOU NEVER WALK ALONE—plus, the upcoming 2 year anniversary of this extremely fateful conversation (lol)—I have decided to write about it, if only to explain a little of why I feel such a connection to the concept and so people will understand why I kept it private for so long.

I just want to go ahead and give people some warning: it’s not only a post about BTS. it’s a post about my life, and it contains a lot of sensitive material, like self-harm, suicidal ideation, and drug use. please bear that in mind if you decide to read it, I don’t want anyone to be upset by that content.

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So love ends and I cry and my mother tells me that maybe in a years time you might have learnt to love me back

But in a years time I won’t be as pure as I once was and you’ll be racing to catch up

In a years time you’ll have learned your place and kissed too many girls, whilst I’m fucking a boy that always tells me he’s in love with my body, but never in love with me

In a years time I’ll be in therapy, finally getting better, but in a years time you won’t be as willing to wait around for me to heal

In a years time I’ll start believing in God and you would have lost your connection with him

Because in a years time you’ll be a new person and so will I but we’ll both still be two lost teenagers finding themselves and trying to make it as more than “just friends”

when we were young (01) | jeon jungkook

➡ Characters: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Jimin)

➡ Genre: soulmate!au ; angst ; slight fluff ; mention of hanahaki disease

➡ Word count: 3,974 words

➡ Prompt: Jungkook sacrifices you in exchange of true happiness. But it all comes down to one question, what really is true happiness in a world that was born out of a system who believes in soulmates?

 Warning: mention of self-harm ; light swearing

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A List Of Things Cashiers Wish They Could Say To Customers

1. Lazy bitch, please take your cart/basket back where you got it.

2. If you decide you don’t want something, fucking take it back yourself.

3. I don’t care how ridiculous you think it is that you need to show me your ID. 

4. No, I clearly don’t work here (as I wear a name tag with the company name on it)

5. Don’t reach over my fucking register.

6. Thanks for eating your un-purchased banana while you were shopping.

7. If you want $100 cash back, please go to the bank that’s 10 feet away.

8. So you decided not to put your produce in a plastic bag? Do you want me to tell you the last time this belt was thoroughly cleaned?

9. Don’t. Steal. My. Fucking. Pen.

10. If you’re going to pay with a check,…. wait…. what year is it?

11. My manager will tell you the same exact thing I just did.

12. The Guest Services desk is closed? Oh, that means the Guest Services desk is closed.

13. For the love of god, tell your kid to stop screwing around.

14. I don’t know what the fuck your asking about.

15. I fucking know what this is, I’m just looking for the damn PLU#.

16. “15 Items or less” means “15 items or less.”

17. “Hi, how are you?” “Plastic.” No.

18. If I don’t have a bagger, that means you should help me bag your shit.

19. If you put your money or coupons on my belt, they will definitely end up in the dirty tray under the counter.

20. If there’s somebody else’s stuff on the belt, use a god damn barricade to separate your shit from their’s.

21. Don’t tell me you have the change once I’ve already opened my fucking cash drawer.

22. Don’t ask me to throw away your trash when there’s at least twelve million trash cans around the fucking store.

23. If the product you got doesn’t match the coupon exactly, it will not work.

24. If your coupon expired twenty years ago, it will not work.

25. I could honesty give less of a shit if you found everything alright.