I am finishing the 1000 followers celebration earlier than I had hoped.

I haven’t had the time lately to write properly, and though I know you say you don’t mind, I can’t help but feel bad. Therefor, I am stopping my celebration and will resort to my earlier way of writing.

The requests in my inbox will still be written, but they can take much longer, to the point where you might forget you’ve sent it. I will simply treat it as an idea, and not a fic that needs to be written right away. I am sorry if you were truly looking forward to it; just know, I will be writing it eventually, but there is no more pressure to publish it right away.

There is also a lot of delay in my Starcrossed Losers fic because of this. I have decided to publish a new chapter every Sunday 19:30 CET starting tomorrow! The new chapter isn’t yet fully written, but I will try to publish it tomorrow as a gift.

By the way sorry for my severe lack of non shitty starker content these past few days weeksmonths, I promise i’m gonna write some good filth™ tomorrow

Kind of a personal, unhinged, manic ramble. But it’s 1:30 in the morning and I’m just in that kind of mood.

So, there’s nothing concrete yet because nobody answers emails at 1 in the morning in a Saturday. But.

I just applied for a position in the funeral home for my favourite cemetery in the city I live in. I’m not the top candidate because I don’t have a bachelor’s degree in anything, but it said on the listing that the degree wasn’t a necessary qualification— only a preferred one. But I have all the mandatory qualifications, including nearly 6 years of experience in customer service. Benefits of being poor as shit and joining the workforce in high school, I guess.

Anyway. I know it sounds weird to be excited to the point of mania over the possibility of working in a funeral home and helping grieving families bury their dead relatives. I know exactly how that sounds. But I really love this cemetery for a lot of reasons. And my little goth ass has wanted to work in a cemetery literally as long as I can remember. I’d like to be a groundskeeper, but I’m not physically capable. Which sucks. But the bright side is there’s still something I can do there and I really hope I at least land an interview. I’m just really excited and I hope that if I scream about it to enough people my ancestors will hear me and make it happen for me.

Just. I’m really excited and I hope I came across the job listing for a reason. I’m not sure how much I believe in anything like fate or destiny, but I think things have a way of working out in the long run.

Postpartum depression isn’t just being sad in the middle of the night because you’re exhausted, because your baby hasn’t slept for more than two hours straight in over three months. It isn’t just feeling overwhelmed by the dirty bottles and all of the laundry and making sure the rest of your family is taken care of, before yourself. It isn’t skipping meals because you aren’t hungry and need to feed the baby, then binging on the first thing you get your hands on after everyone has gone to bed and you have a few spare minutes for yourself. And it isn’t just being tired even though you just woke up, because no matter how long you sleep, it’ll never be enough.

Postpartum depression is sitting at your desk on your 28th birthday, crying your eyes out for absolutely no reason, except that you’re sad and you don’t know why, but you just can’t seem to stop. It’s knowing you’re numb and empty, but no amount of tears, words, or hugs will fill that. It’s not being able to find the joy in the things that you used to love. It’s your body revolting against you, trying remember how to reorient itself after the traumatic, life-changing event it went through. It’s existing, even if that’s all you can muster, because you love that tiny little person you created so much, but struggling to remember how to love yourself.

Today is my birthday, and I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much. I have no reason to. I have an amazing husband, a loving family, and the best job I could ever dream of, but today, I am so deeply and profoundly sad for no reason. That’s PPD.

I’ve had depression for as long as I can remember. My head has never been a safe place for me to be. I’ve talked about it occasionally, but I have never struggled as badly as I have since having Lane. I love him so much and he’s my entire world, but postpartum depression is hard. It’s hard and it’s ugly and it hits you at the worst times that it can. But because I love that tiny human and I love my husband, I try to remember to love myself. Some days, that’s a lot harder than others, but I have to remind myself that I’m worthy of that love.

I know so many women that recently became mothers, just like I did. No one warned me about how bad PPD could be, about how horribly it can affect every aspect of your life. I figured it’d be fine, since I was already used to my “normal depression”. I was wrong. Don’t be afraid to reach out for resources from your OB or just to talk to your family or even me. I don’t want anyone to feel as hopeless as I have, suffering from PPD in silence.

This is my birthday gift to myself. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. So if I can do anything for anyone on my friends list who is suffering, too, let me know. Send me a message.

You are not alone.

Okay. I got really any interest at all when I floated this, so fuck it, let’s do some donation fic (if people are interested and have the ability!). Fifteen bucks to Planned Parenthood or the abortion fund of your choice gets a minimum of 500 words of fic—yes, you can stack that, not that I’m really expecting you to. You can tell me to write basically anything (which includes updates to or expansions of existing fic), though I won’t promise not to interpret that in a way that appeals to me. If you ask for something I actually can’t write for any reason, I’ll communicate with you to figure something else out.

Please send me proof of donation with all your identifying information blacked out and a description of the fic you want (as vague or specific as you want), if tumblr’s being weird about that, my fandom gmail is also attilarrific.

So I am basically exclusively an Oath of Love/Xiao Zhan blog right (because finally, it’s been eighty-four years), but I did also see the Jujutsu Kaisen 0 movie last night, and it was so fucking good, you guys, so I’d like to express that in my heart of hearts, I am also a JJK/satosugu blog right now.

headspace-hotel:

libertineangel:

headspace-hotel:

headspace-hotel:

headspace-hotel:

When I read thoughts and ideas about relationships written by people with very rigid ideas about gender, I’m perplexed at how they find dysfunctional beauty in a world-view that seems to me like it must be full of despair.

People with these essentialist ideas often believe, in the end, that to understand or be understood by a person of “opposite” gender is impossible. How they navigate relationships is so fascinatingly horrible.

Having a conversation with your spouse—in which you both attempt to be as charitable and honest toward the other as you can be—isn’t on the table in the first place.

Instead, you must look for secret cues in your spouse’s behavior based on generalizations about how “Men” or “Women” think and feel. You must approach them first and foremost as a Man or a Woman, with the assumption that true empathy or understanding are impossible, and that any common ground you share as Humans is secondary. You have to constantly dehumanize your spouse with inflexible labels that deny their individuality.

Resentment, bitterness, and arguing are not only inevitable, they are romanticized.They are evidence of some kind of endless, martyr-like Noble Struggle toward an incomprehensible Other that both cannot be coexisted with and must be.

They’re so befuddled by the fumes of Gender Essentialism that they can’t seem to think, “Maybe my spouse seems like an Incomprehensible Other because I haven’t even tried to FUCKING TALK TO THEM about how they are feeling.”

After reading some truly odd opinions about consent and rape culture in the library, I have decided that the concept of getting clear and enthusiastic consent is incomprehensible to some people because their relationship skills are so fucking dysfunctional.

Of course they think it’s bizarre to ask, in words, if their partner would like to have sex. They think it’s bizarre to ask in words about ANYTHING. “How do I know when you need alone time?” “How can I make you feel better when you’re sad?” “Do you want to vent or do you want my opinion on what you should do?” “Do you like getting gifts or would you rather do something else for your birthday?” are all equally incomprehensible questions.

You’re supposed to just Know—know what your partner needs when they’re sad or upset, know what kind of gesture would make their birthday special. And the libraries are full of books intended to help couples that are finding out that you do not, in fact, just Know these things, and who are too hung up on the supposed Inherent Differences between men and women to think of a solution.

The bad books try to be like a guidebook for “translating” the incomprehensible gobbledeygook that Woman Thoughts supposedly are to a Man Brain (and vice versa).

The good books patiently walk these couples through basic adult communication skills and a crash course in “your partner is a person, you can talk to them.”

I have to add. that even supposedly more “progressive” and feminist writings and things ALSO do this kind of essentialist thinking.

It’s more subtle, and often spun in a way that makes Woman Thoughts more valuable or superior, but it’s the same kind of thing. Women are more peaceful, more relational. They ~connect~ communities together. Women are intuitive and more ✨holistic✨ than men’s Rigid Rational Thinking. Women are more able to empathize with the oppressed, more in tune with human pain, less violent, less threatening, less confrontational, less abusive.

I was in a class discussion a while back discussing whether a male historian could handle the subject of domestic violence as well as a female historian could, and was surprised that almost everyone in the class thought No. Even though it was acknowledged that men are victims of domestic violence sometimes, there still seemed to be something thought to be inherently different…that was broadly applicable to women.

It’s interesting how people appear to find it easier to understand that “men can be abuse victims” than to understand that “women can be abusers and/or abuse apologists.” Abuse happening to a person doesn’t challenge that binary thinking as much as someone perpetratingabuse.

File this one under “perfect examples of problems that would be vastly improved if autistic culture was valued like you talked about in that post a while back” because dear god just fucking be direct with people, allistics are genuinely trying to build happiness around this absurd bioessentialist dance that literally nobody benefits from rather than just doing the sensible thing like we’d do and expect without a second thought.

You know what, you’re exactly right.

90% of relationship problems are some variation on:

• I have a boundary and I feel like it’s being violated, but I have never told the person what my boundaries are
• The person has been habitually doing something that bothers me but I haven’t told them that it bothers me so now I’ve been building up resentment for weeks and I’m really mad at them
• I told the person something to be polite and avoid expressing my real feelings, and now I’m mad at them for acting like I was telling the truth
• I’ve been giving hints toward something I feel and I’m mad that the other person hasn’t picked up on them
• I keep making unfounded assumptions about a person’s needs and now I feel inadequate to meet their needs

and all go back to the fact that people, for some absurd reason, aren’t taught to straight up talk to each other when they have a problem.

Wish I had the balls to tell my mom this… not just in regards to her marriage, but also in regards to how I felt about her in the weeks leading up to when I finally moved out a year ago. However, things are much better now because there’s more space between us and we only see each other for 1-2 days per month on average, and my thoughts about all that have kinda withered away now that they’re not being reinforced by constant close contact, so eh.

Personal stuff and mental health stuff under the cut.

For the last few months it’s been really obvious things haven’t been going great with my girlfriend. We have an amazing time together but then she’ll suddenly lapse into these long silences, obviously grumpy at me and I’ll just know I’ve said something wrong but can’t for the life of me figure out what and she wouldn’t tell me. Gradually she’s been asking for more time apart, mentioned that she might move in with her folks for a couple of weeks (we don’t live together, but within walking distance of each other), and referenced talking to others about what’s bothering her rather than talking to me. She’s also yet to introduce me to her parents after 2 years of us being together.

I was 90% sure she was going to dump me, and was caught between definitely not wanting that to happen and wondering if it would be a relief if she did because then I could stop second guessing everything I said.

Then yesterday she made an overtly rude comment, immediately apologised, and then explained that she’s been diagnosed with depression, and it reframed the last few months immediately.

Depression is a bitch. It doesn’t just make you sad. It almost makes you irritable and anybody expressing any positive comments around you can feel like they’re rubbing their lives in your face. She’s always been keen on running but has lost any joy in it recently while I’ve been running a lot, which feels like an oblique fuck you. Sometimes I am a bit thoughtless and say the wrong thing, and that digs a lot harder when she’s already in a bad place.

And then she feels worse when she snaps at me because she doesn’t want me associating time with her with pain, so the offer to move in with her folks for a couple of weeks was an effort to spare me.

I let her know that from my perspective, most of the time I have a good time with her. I offered for us to take a break if she thought it might help.

We’re still together. There’s going to be other moments like this while she figures out her path to recovery, but I love her and after we’d talked through everything we spent a long time just cuddling. If you’ve read this far and anything in it chimes with you, I’m begging you to be honest with the people you care about. Crushing down your reactions for the sake of not inconveniencing anybody will end up, ironically, causing more pain.

I bought a $20 Microsoft wireless keyboard today. I do not regret this decision at all. Now it is time to test my new baby on FFXIV. LEGGGGGGGGGGO

i am just feeling wretched today and every little wretched bit of wretchedness is only making my more wretched, i am not fit company for man or beast and yet! somehow! i have to be in my own company, this is intolerable

also i have the nagging feeling that i’ve hit that tipping point where my fics are now too long and OC-riddled and poorly-paced and I am now going to have to gently coast my way downward as I did with my weird star wars comicsverse series to wind up as many of my plot points as I can before I finally am too tired to continue alone in the dark, so– i mean– if you were gonna let me know you’re still reading, now’d be a good time, i need a last bit of motivation to get to the exciting wind-up bits of all of it because of course i’ve spent so much time setting shit up for this inevitable payoff… I don’t think I can blame it on a Monday update so much as on all the above things I just mentioned.

I have got to learn fucking pacingy’all.

The stars are so nice.

The stars doesn’t call me an waste of existence.

Guess what guys..

I’m v depressed again which actually means I might post more?? My femboy phases are kinda like a straight line graph against depression.. but I moved in with my bf and his family is rad as hell so CASUAL CROP TOP WEAR!

A quick update, or a To Whom It May Concern:

So, guys…I did not die or something.

I just got very, very sick.

Like, sicker than before. Thanks to a downward spiral of chronic pain and pain-fueled mental meltdown, I ended up in two different ER’s within the space of one week this month.

It’s finally starting to get better tho. I got help and some antidepressants and a Plan.

Please know that I did not abandon our lovely, koi fish sized pond of a fandom. I’m just not in a place where I’m able to write anything right now.

Wish me luck. I could use all the luck in the world.

Ibroke up with my love sold my car that I’ve really grown fond of (it wasn’t the first car I drove but it was the first that i OWNED so selling it was particularly heartbreaking) and even though it’s been a week already, looking for a new car to buy actually seems like cheating to my stupid little brain.

Binge-re-watching(is that even a word?) the Top Gear of old really makes me feel better. Those legendary blokes truly do keep me from falling into the dark pits of depression by putting a smile on my face.

Still feel a bit guilty looking at other cars tho. I just wish the next owner will be my precious boy’s best friend.

I think I’ve finally fucked up the one thing-the last thing in my life that I actually enjoyed. I’ve finally pushed away that one person, the only person that I knew how to please.

Why do I fuck up everything, I’m so tired of this shit, I don’t want this anymore.

Girls trip to Oregon

Winston and Mommy❤️

I still miss you every day and I always wonder if you’ve ever even thought of me.

What if I just deleted my fb app and only posted here?! I dont have rl friends anyways‍♀️

Most the time I just wanna die…

Cause I cant seem to tell you my side without you crying….

this shit always happen to me