An Amazing And Inspiring Post By A Wonderful Person. I Myself Was Diagnosed With Generalized Anxiety

An amazing and inspiring post by a wonderful person. I myself was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder at 16. I’d become someone so different than who I had been and so miserable. Going from one panic attack a month to one every two or three days indicated to me that the ‘pressure release’ they were giving me wasn’t lasting as long as it had been before. The constant interruption of my thoughts by nagging little things, the physical discomfort of feeling like a fat raccoon was sitting on my chest - it was miserable. 

I was put on an anti-anxiety/depressant med but dosing was always an issue. For the next seven years I lived in various stages of anxiety, to normalcy, to overly medicated. Then I decided to “fix” the issue and stopped taking the medication. 

For a period of time I felt great! What a weight lifted off my shoulders! But in hindsight things were different. I had a little nagging voice in my head, telling me how fat I’d become, how ugly my skin was, how I had too much body hair...it was as though I was suddenly having massive amounts of self doubt and self criticism in my twenties rather than my teens. 

Nevertheless I pushed through and pushed through until I realized that maybe I needed to see someone again. Going “back in the system” was hard, it took me some time to find a doctor that “fit”, experimentation on what medication I responded best to and sadly a host of new diagnosis including a social anxiety developed out of that nasty little voice in my head and ultimately severe depression and dysthymia (chronic long term depression aka the tiny little negative voice in my head). 

Just a handful of months ago I was referred to a new doctor, one who specializes in eating disorders, after I found myself overcome by anxiety towards food to the point where I was eating as little as 200-800 calories a day. I was diagnosed with an eating disorder known as ARFID (avoidant restrictive food intake disorder). With bi-weekly visits to my doctor I’ve slowly come to terms with the strangeness going on in my head, that I wasn’t broken nor should I guilt myself because I wasn’t coping when there were people out there in much worse situations. To put it simply, my brain doesn’t work like it should.

After years of ruling out possible medical causes it comes down to one fact, my brain chemistry isn’t balanced without help and the fact that I’ve chosen to see my doctor/therapist and take two little white pills a day doesn't make me weaker. I’m not a failure for needing the external help anymore than a diabetic is for needing insulin or an asthmatic needing an inhaler. I am me and this is how I am. 

Bravo to you @theartofnotwriting for fighting the long fight to get Shangri-La (or as close as one can get). Fighting through the shroud cast by your disorder and reaching the other side and then reaching back through that fog to help others join you. Also, as a Bay Area native, I’m sorry you had such a difficult time in San Francisco. All I can say is folks can be weird out here and I can attest that there are fans of the series and of the ending (myself included). You did a very brave thing doing what you did with the ending, something unexpected and unique amongst the sea of series.

Anxiety, Meds, and Words from the Horizon. (So to Speak.)

I keep writing this post, over and over, feeling like I have to say everything. Today I’m trying to release myself from that pressure. This post will not say everything. It will just say some things.

I have this memory from Allegiant’s release week. I hadn’t been sleeping or eating much due to the stress of the new book coming out, and all that I was doing to give it a good start in the world. I had taken a glance at Twitter before my plane to San Francisco took off, and saw, for the first time, how angry and upset a lot of my readers were at the way I chose to end the series. It may strike you as unbelievable that I didn’t anticipate their reactions, but it’s true nonetheless– I did what I thought (and still think) was right for the story, and that was all.

Let me be clear: I’m okay with reactions, negative or otherwise. I am a grown woman, and a professional author, and when people disagree with me, even angrily, that’s okay with me. Readers are allowed, encouraged, to feel. To form their own opinions. To reject and despise a story. To think some books are crap and other books aren’t. To say so, in whatever GIF-y, sarcastic, exclamation point filled way they choose. On a logical level, I believe this, would fight for it if I had to. But Anxious Brain doesn’t get memos like that, doesn’t speak the language of logic. Anxious Brain just feels, feels, feels.

Some of my readers were so upset they posted death threats. (Hyperbolic or not, this is never okay. It’s the Internet, so it’s hard to know if people are joking or if they’re really going to try to hurt you.) I never thought I would upset people that much, ever, in my entire life. Anxious Brain triggered a meltdown.

My plane took off, and I was so anxious I was sobbing right there on the flight. The people next to me, thankfully, didn’t say anything. I couldn’t distract myself. I counted down the minutes until we landed, my sleeves disgustingly stained from wiping my nose.

My publicist and I went straight from the airport to the bookstore for me to sign stock before the event that night. The bookstore staff was friendly and kind, but I couldn’t be kind in return. All I could do was put on my headphones and sign books. I cried the whole time. Couldn’t stop. Some of my actual tears are in those Allegiants, San Francisco. It’s funny to me now, though it wasn’t at the time.

After I got home from that tour, I had the worst few days of my life. I was irrationally convinced– convinced– that I was going to die of some life-threatening disease or another. I don’t remember, now, which one. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that the obsession took over my waking and my sleeping. Most of the time I felt separate from my own body. I felt a disconnected kind of terror, unrelated to anything in particular, my heart pounding and my breaths short. I felt—and not for the first time– like I was losing my sanity.

A little while after that, I went back to therapy. Clearly I wasn’t handling things as well as I wished I was.

That was the “before” picture. This is the after:

The story of how a year of therapy turned into finally trying medication isn’t really important right now. Someday I’ll tell it. I was never the kind of person who was even open to the suggestion of antidepressants– I thought that was a sign of weakness, something other people needed, not me. I was strong. I would fight it on my own.

(Right?)

I’ll never forget what my therapist said to me the day I finally raised the subject of brain chemicals to her. It was pretty simple, just, “you don’t have to fight so hard.” Meaning: you don’t have to go it alone, do it without help. You don’t have to try to be so strong.

I burst into tears. She had released me, somehow, from the obligation of working so hard just to get out of bed, and put on clothes, and interact with other people. (Most of the time I had to take a nap the second I finished my shower, because the anxiety was so exhausting. I had accepted this. I no longer realized, consciously, that it wasn’t normal for an otherwise-healthy person to do that. In case you’re wondering…it’s not.)

Antidepressants, like most medications, are not perfect. It’s not easy to “get it right.” The dosage, the prescription itself. Every brain reacts differently. Everyone has different side effects they can tolerate.

Antidepressant 1 made me into an indestructible, emotionless robot– which was fun, for awhile, for someone so used to being controlled by her emotions. But it wasn’t me, so I talked to my doctor and switched to Antidepressant 1 + Supplementary Antidepressant 2.

1 + 2 made me anxious again. Back to the beginning.

Antidepressant 3 was promising at first. I still felt emotions, but I also felt exhausted. Can’t-get-through-the-day-without-a-nap exhausted. Can’t-exercise-because-you’re-too-sleepy exhausted.

Nope. Let’s try again.

Several months into my quest for the right dosage and the right drug, I suddenly found that I was myself again. Antidepressant 4, my little miracle. I was not my anxious self, but the person I had been underneath. Neurotic, yes, because I have always been neurotic. Capable of being nervous, and sad, and angry– capable of having negative emotions, and feeling bad, and wishing my life was different. Wishing I was different.

But also– ALSO! Capable of self soothing. Capable of fighting back without draining my energy. Like a muscle that you suddenly realize is strong after you’ve been working out for a few weeks– like that first time you carry a bag of heavy groceries up a flight of stairs and realize you’re not as out of breath as you used to be. I wasn’t a robot, but I had energy. I could have a cup of tea and not feel so jittery and shaky from the caffeine that I wanted to turn back time and un-drink it. I could be kind to someone in a bookstore who recognized me and asked me for a picture– without having a panic attack!

I could be okay. Happy. Sometimes even calm.

Life is the same web of complicated and difficult emotions that it’s always been. I don’t always wake up happy and positive and ready to face the day. But I do wake up capable and hopeful.

I’d love to tell you something comforting, something soothing, something to take away your fear of medication or therapy or doctors or whatever it is that’s holding you back from doing what’s best for your brain. I can’t tell you those things, because they wouldn’t be true. It’s not easy, it’s not fun. It’s not great to break down and sob because you think you’ll never find a medication that lets you feel like yourself while still treating your anxiety. It’s not fun to drag yourself to therapy every week even though you hate the hard, but true things your therapist is telling you about the way you’re thinking and feeling. It’s not awesome to explain and re-explain how mental illness works to people who have never experienced it.

There will be days when, defeated, you dust off your old bottle of Klonipin (doctor prescribed) because even the antidepressants just aren’t enough anymore.

There will be days when, hopeless, you curl up on the couch and wonder if you will ever feel okay again, even for a couple minutes at a time.

But there is something on the horizon, a glimmer of something else, the hope of hey, I can handle this, even though it’s hard! I am standing there now, and looking back at where I’ve been, so I can tell you. I can tell you that hey, I can handle this, even though it’s hard! is worth fighting for. It’s worth that awful, terrifying call to the mental health clinic, the one you rehearse for, even the one you ask your mom to make for you. It’s worth every hour of bickering with your therapist because anxiety makes you a stubborn asshole. It’s worth every little green-or-blue pill you swallow, while under the supervision of a medical doctor, in the dim hope that you will one day feel just a tiny bit better than before.

It is worth it to try. And to try again. To take care of your brain.

I am wildly, madly, scorchingly happy to be in this place. I am so grateful for my therapist saying “you don’t have to fight so hard.” I am so proud of Past Veronica for dragging herself– sometimes thirty minutes late, because it was that hard to leave the house!– to therapy every week. For years.

If you have done even a single thing– told a friend, asked for help, called a doctor, tried a medicine– to take care of your brain, I am so proud of you, too. One little step at a time, guys.

If you haven’t done those things, if you can’t, if it’s too goddamn hard, that doesn’t mean you suck. It doesn’t mean anything other than you just can’t right now. But hear this, just in case. Just in case it’s the thing you need:

It’s worth it.

You don’t have to be so strong. You don’t have to fight so hard.

<3,

V

Possibly the best wrap up of a fic ever (though it does leave some questions - if Owen is a baby does that mean in the nine months of pregnancy Kaitlyn met a guy, fell in love and got married? Or is ‘baby’ a relative term? 

As much as I don’t want to see a sequel (because this one is so perfect) I kinda wanna see the details!

Hey, Bartender 3

*I finished early and there was some nameless begging so I present part 3 of my little Boomerang Trilogy. We pick up during the next phase of Boomerang/Kaitlyn. I hope you all like it (warning: Don’t hate me). There is SMUT because well…I wanted it. Here is where you can find part one and part two. Time for me to run away….:).* 

_____________________________________________________________ 

“I don’t want ya. I want the other Sheila.”

“Well sorry but she-”

“I WANT KITTY!” He yells at the top of his lungs.

You freeze as all the patrons turn to stare. Turning around you see Boomerang’s steely blue eyes boring into you. With a slow inhale you walk over to the agitated brute. When Boomerang sees you approaching the side of the bar he smiles in victory.

With a click of your tongue you spit out, “What?”

“I don’t like being ignored.”

“You weren’t. Hailey is very capable of serving you beer.”

He begins to raise his voice, “No way to treat ya customer or ya lover.” Once again, curious patrons start to notice his disruptive behavior.

You motion to the backdoor, “Not here. Meet me outback.” Boomerang was not known to back down from an argument and you rather not have witnesses.

Stepping into the alley, you internally brace yourself for the impending dispute to follow. Over the past few weeks the two of you had been at each other’s throat.

“Women always gotta be pain in arse. Why ya mad this time, love?”

“Maybe because you disappear more than Houdini!”

He smirked, “Gettin’ soft on me?”

“This isn’t a joke Boomer!” You yell and throw your head back in frustration.

“I thought it was pretty funny,” He deadpans with a shrug. He takes a step towards you but you quickly move out of reach.

His face morphs into distain as he processes what happened. “Ya suddenly don’t like having me close or touchin’ ya,” his eyes narrow and his lips form a snarl, “Is there another bloke?”

“What?! I’d ask if you were crazy but we already know the answer.”

With stealthy speed he grabs both wrists pulling you to his chest. His blue eyes find yours before he leans down to ghost over your lips with his own. “Tell me Kitty,” he says in a low voice.

With a pause, you look up at him blinking back the sudden tears. “I’m just tired Harkness.” You nervously run fingers through your hair before asking, “What are we doing here?” Gesturing between the two of you.

“Havin’ fun, love.” His retort strikes a nerve and you are abruptly filled with rage. "No, you listen here  shitbag. I’m done. I will no longer be just a warm body you curl up to at night.”

The Captain raises his eyebrows at your outburst. He rubs his mutton chops as he steps towards you until you can feel his breath on your cheek.

“Ya don’t mean that Kitty.”

Quickly glancing away from his stare, he pulls your chin forcing you to look at him. “Remember who’s the bad guy here. I tell ya when we are done.” The words were laced with malice but the look in his eyes implied that he was concerned.

Leveraging your hands on his massive chest, you push yourself back.

“This was clearly a mistake. I’ve got to get back inside.”

Growling in frustration, “Come on Kitty, let’s just go home.”

“Home? Do you even have a home? If so, where is it? I’d love to see it.”

His displeasure spreads across his face and he starts toying with his lighter. Turning to look at you, he discharges, “Mate I’m really not in the mood for this shit.”

“And that makes two of us, George.” You fire as you walk back inside.

___________________________

Your body tenses as you feel the bed shift beneath you. You feel his sculpted body against your back as his heavy arms encompass you. He whispers against your neck, “I’m tired of fightin’ Kitty.”

You softly whisper, “Me too.”

“Ya can do better than me ya know?” You crane your neck back to look at him.

“Without a doubt,” a small smirk creeps on your face. Moving your hair to the side, Boomerang softly kisses your temple. You roll over onto him. You steady yourself by placing hands on his fury chest. His large hand cups your cheek and his thumb slowly traces your bottom lip.

The two of you pass the moment staring at each other. You reach up to run your hand through his mutton chops, and he nudges encouraging your touch, eventually kissing the inside of your wrist. His hands find their way into your hair as he pulls towards his lips, capturing you in gentle yet passionate kiss. Boomerang impulsively rolls the two of you over placing himself on top. Leaning back on his heels, he traces his fingers down your arm picking up your hand and kissing it. With his eyes locked on you, he gently places your hand on his chest before leaning down. Boomerang’s lips devour yours; his tongue exploring your mouth, neck, and ears. His fingers pull at your tank and you sit up pulling it off. His mouth moves to your breast licking, sucking, and biting at the fleshy mounds. Gripping his strong biceps and writhing in pleasure from his skilled mouth, you pull Boomerang toward you. He smiles before running his tongue along your bottom lip in addition to gently pulling it with his teeth. A small moan escapes your mouth as he whispers, “My Kitty.” His hands trace down, cupping your butt with his large hands before pulling down your underwear. He gently opens your legs and guides his thick digits over your folds. With lust filled eyes he asks, “Ya ready for me?”

“Yes.” Was all you were able muster before he starts to rub his hard erection over your entrance and then slowly easing himself into you. He places his forehead against yours looking into your eyes while slowly pumping in and out. Your hands pull at his hair and rake down his back at the pleasurable sensation.

“Captain, don’t stop.” He nibbles your neck while maneuvering you on top and never losing contact.

“I want to see ya Kitty.” You slowly start grinding him and he releases several curses. One hand is at the small of your back and the other is firmly gripping your thigh. His hips meet each thrust. You can feel your walls tighten as you near release, and his grip indicates he is close as well. Boomerang pulls you down for a passionate kiss and your climax follows. Sitting up to ride out the wave, a low groan and erratic thrusts lets you know he has finished. You collapse on top of him and the two of you drift off to sleep in a warm embrace.

The warm bask of the sun radiating through the open curtain wakes you up. A smile creeps upon your face as you replay the evening with Boomer. Your arm flings back searching for him but only discovers his absence. Sitting up and sliding off the bed, you pull the sheet as you look for any sign of the Aussie. Slowly spinning round, clutching the sheet you realize the space is empty of his presence. As the realization sets in, you sink to a pile on the living room floor.

____________________________

Walking towards the exit to your car, you are startled by the sight before you resulting in dropped keys. The sound causes the man to turn around and notice you scrambling at the floor. You stare into the familiar blue eyes as you slowly stand up. A small smile forms in the corner of his mouth. The thumping in your chest is so loud that you are convinced Boomerang can hear it across the way. A disruption causes you to turnaround and you see Stefan, your husband, carrying the baby. Stefan gives you a bewildered look.

“Why are you still standing there?” You look over your shoulder to find Boomerang gone.

Shaking your head you release as small laugh, “Nothing…well…kinda of.. but it’s silly. I swear I saw a ghost.” He rolls his eyes in response and you lightly elbow him as the three of you continue to the car. Once everyone is buckled in, you can’t shake the feeling that you are being watched. As Stefan pulls away from the curb you notice Boomerang. He is watching you from across the street leaning against a building and pensively playing with his pinky ring. You maintain eye contact while biting down on your lip hopeful to stop the quivering and keep your tears at bay. After you can longer see Boomerang, you exhale not realizing you had been holding it in.

Stefan glances over and touches your leg, “Kaitlyn, baby, are you alright?”

You feebly nod your head. Loud cries erupt from the backseat and you are grateful for the interruption.

“Momma’s right here.” You reach back and the small hand immediately latches onto your pinky finger. With your index finger you gently stroke his cheek. “Shhh…don’t cry my sweet Owen. It’s okay, I promise.”

@felyneve90 Thank you for these words! @unofficialjaicourtney and I have been discussing how poorly Jai’s ‘fans’ have been taking this news. If Jai is happy more power to him! If he’s not, well he can fix that. 

I try and imagine if Jai were dating a fan, would the rest of the fandom turn on her? I used to be embarrassed by the so-called ‘fandom’ but I’ve learned there are the real fans who support him, critique his work if we have a strong opinion and accept that (heaven for bid!) the boy chooses to date. Then there are the stalkers who believe that Jai owes them? That they deserve his attention and no one else? I can’t even imagine what they’re thinking. And avoid Instagram, it’s a million times worse.

I am Disgusted

Totally and utterly disgusted. I told myself I would stay out of this mess some of you have created over the hype with Jai, but today I’ve pulled my last straw. I’ve had a rough god damn day and I am sick and tired of people thinking that attacking anyone is okay. I can’t believe what some of you have turned into, and it makes me want to scratch at my skin until it peels off because of how gross it is. 

Mecki is a person. I don’t understand why you guys seem to think that she isn’t and that she doesn’t have feelings, but you do. You’re treating her like she’s a demon, like she’s trash. She’s human. Yeah, she may be dating a celebrity, and we may admire him, but shouldn’t that mean that we should defend her the same way we do Jai? Wouldn’t he want that? 

It just boggles my mind how people think that because a picture goes around, it makes her public property and that you guys think you can just batter her because there’s a thing called the internet between you and her. Why does this need to be a catfight to you people? Why do you decide that you need to be fucking repulsive bullies? Where in your head do you deem that as being fucking okay? Would you like it if someone did it to you?

Some of you are just fine. You’re good and you support him and you’re happy because he’s happy, and I like you people, and I hope this doesn’t offend you. However, to the people that think she should go because apparently she’s just some nasty “anorexic” piece of shit that needs to go, you guys can fuck right off, I don’t care if I offend you. 

She’s part of this fandom now, and this is what you guys are putting out. To me, I would defend her just as much as I would Jai, and as you can see, that’s exactly what I’m doing, because somehow she’s playing a role in his life (be it friendship, or romance, I don’t care) and because of that, she should be taken care of. Oh, and I will repeat myself, you should defend her anyway because she is a living and breathing fucking person. 

Thank you to those who support me, the fandom, her, and Jai. Rack off to those who don’t. 

Ooooh plot twist @oddsnendsfanfics! Like anonymous I too like the idea of someone getting hurt to spark the feels. Perhaps BFF isn’t by Jai’s side when he needs her most because she too was hurt and he doesn’t know she’s lying in a hospital bed somewhere and the hospital called him as her contact but he’s obviously not at home because he’s with Denzi...

I’m going to shut up now and let the master do her work.

I vote Denzi gets sick or hurt (not to bad) and they stay in hospital all night which then they realize if something happened to the other they couldn't live and sexy time happens later

I will warn you, I am not above hurting (fictional) children to get what I want! 

Now that we know this secret, I had thought about something along those lines. Children get hurt all the time, clumsy little things. Who knows, Denzi may still get hurt (not badly hurt of course), but enough to send Jai into a total melt down panic. 

How bad would it go down, if he desperately needed her and she was MIA with no explanation. Just not there when he needed her? 

I 100% agree with you @catwinchester! I’m way more fearful of Chihuahuas than any other dog. When training all of our dogs, from the time I was five or six, we always tested the dog’s reaction by randomly putting our hands in/near their food bowls while eating. 

My current love, Zelda (a Pekingese/Jack Russell mix) never even needed training. If anything if you put your hand near her mouth while eating she just starts to expect you to hand feed her (that’s the Pekingese-princess in her).

All of my past dogs were allowed scraps/human food/were allowed to lick plates after folks ate. I feel like that’s a HUGE mistake that a lot of people do. For the first time with Zelda I’ve raised her on no human food and she’s amazing about it. While you eat she likes to just sit on your lap and nap, whereas my last dog Sandy (a Pomeranian/Beagle) would put her snout in your mouth to steal human food. 

My baby girl and emotional support dog, Zelda. 

Can I please be tagged when you post @catwinchester? I adore this story and I always worry that I’ve missed a chapter. 

Blind Date -  Ch.5

Synopsis: Saga was blinded in a freak accident at Stark Industries and ever since, Tony Stark and the Avengers have been helping her. Well, they think they’ve been helping, actually they’ve been holding her back, refusing to let her learnt to be self-sufficient.

Loki finds himself imprisoned in Stark Tower but when the Avengers have to leave, Loki finds a way around their security and encounters the blind doctor. He quickly finds himself intrigued by her and unlike her friends, he doesn’t go out of his way to “help” her perform simple tasks.

Both misfits in their own way, they quickly form a strong but needless to say, the Avengers don’t take kindly to the budding  friendship.

Based on this imagine

AN: Unbeta’d so please forgive any mistakes

Previous Chapters: Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - 

Are people still enjoying this? 

Chapter Five

Saga had showered and wrapped herself in her fluffiest dressing gown, then Thor knocked on the door to her apartments.

“Lady Saga, please, I must speak with you.”

She ignored him.

“I have no wish to berate you as the others have done, my Lady, I simply wish to talk.”

Reluctantly, she decided to hear what he had to say.

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