Rainy Walks

NSFW | 30 | He/Him/They/Them | Sub/Switch | Bi-Demisexual | Gamer/ Nerd | Mental Health | Tattoos | Pandas. "Laps and Naps" | Minors 🔞 DNI

[walksamongstrain]

How does one even find hope in all this.

I see the protests, and I support them. Even cheer them on... but all that keeps ringing in my head is the words from a holocaust victim: "If you're asking whether it's time to leave, it's already too late."

And the models don't look good... and the rate things are progressing I don't even think we'll have time to stop it before we get to the next election cycle...

But at the same time... I don't want to leave. Not because I want to fight or anything (frankly this country's lost any desire I have to fight for it at this point. I'd rather come back later and let it rebuild into something actually good, and not this racist shit.) I just... don't want to leave. I have friends here. Family. A partner. I'm going to a university I like, for a program I like... but... are those worth the risk? I've been asking myself that question for the last week.

And part of me keeps waking up, hoping something will just flip, and we'll rise up and suddenly move away from the edge of authoritarianism. But every day I just watch us inch closer to it. I see the gestures by the courts, by the congressmen and women willing to stand up to him... but they don't seem to make a difference. It's like placing a piece of paper across railroad tracks hoping it'll stop a train...

I keep seeing the parallels of historic dictators and tyrants playing out in a country that used to stand for the polar opposite... and it seems like too few care. Their either apathetic to the changes, or they welcome them. I've seen and heard veterans who fought against tyrants like Sadaam praise the idea of Trump being a dictator... and they can't see anything wrong with it.

I know my grandparents who fought in WWII are fuming, seething in their graves to watch these events unfold... and yet there's nothing they can do. We saw the history. We were all taught it. And yet many so called patriots are happily marching towards it. The same "patriots" that will claim that the younger generation are too soft, and flaunt the greatest generation's willingness to go to war against facism, are the ones supporting this Tangerine Tyrant and it's depressing.

Our founders fought for us not to have a king. Now our own citizens are supporting someone who wants to be one.

And if I wanted to fight, how do I fight when I'm sicker than shit most of the time? For that matter... how do I know when it's time to fight and not just March? Protest? When they start rounding people like me up? They're rounding up immigrants as we speak... but there are so many who want peaceful protests. I'm just afraid it isn't enough. That by the time they realize the time for peaceful resistance is over, that it'll be too late to mount a significant fight of a less peaceful nature.

How are we supposed to fight the military today anyway? The resistances of WWII didn't have to worry about digital locks, facial recognition, drones, cameras everywhere, bombs that can be guided in by a laser from over the horizon, and digital trails that can show people when you're buying the supplies you need to fight like the resistances did. They were against massive odds... but they didn't Laos have to fight technology, which can track you across the entire country.

I just... I'm lost.

I've never felt less proud to be an American right now. Never felt more shame than when I see news of our interactions with foreign nations. I've never felt less interested in my citizenship.

This constitution was the cornerstone of America, and the same people who flaunt their rights to free speech and guns, are supporting the willful disregard for other parts of the constitution... it baffles me.

So... where do I find hope? The only tunnel with light at the end of it appears to be leaving... but I feel like I'm abandoning my family, my partner, and some of my friends if I go. But I also have chronic illnesses, so what good am I to them here? I keep fighting myself on this every day. Stay? Leave? Fight? Flee? Ride it out and hope for the best? Or regret staying and finding myself unable to leave - or worse?

I don't know anymore. I just want it to stop. I want Democracy, as flawed as it might be, not this racism, facism, and authoritarianism.

I'm tired. I'm scared. I'm indecisive as hell. And that quote forever haunts me right now: "If you have to ask when is the time to leave, it's too late."

Anyway... thanks for letting me rant and vent. I'll leave you all with this: "If the wind direct changes before dawn, don't answer the knock."

[walksamongstrain]

I hate the Anxious Preoccupied Attached style. Literally this god damn circus in my mind:

Self (S): I noticed something change

Anxiety (A): Oh, that means something is wrong!

S: Asks. Is told it's fine.

A: But is it *really* fine?

Logic (L): We trust them. They haven't given us a reason not to. They've communicated if things aren't okay in the past.

S: Yeah. See? Logic is right. No need for you to get worked up, Anxiety.

A: But something *changed* today in the way they're communicating with you. It's a sign that they don't want you anymore or you did something wrong! Previous relationships have shown this to be true!

S: They're also stressed, that might be why.

L: And they aren't your previous relationships. They've already shown and proved that.

A: (louder, talking over L) Yeah, sure, whatever. But it still might be a sign they don't want you anymore.

S: Yo. Shut the fuck up anxiety. Like seriously. We don't need this. We don't want this. So would you shut the fuck up? If I listen to you, that WILL become the result, so would you shut your meat flaps and let Logic do its thing?

A: But THE SIGNS.

S: Logic... I'mma strangle Anxiety. I swear...

[walksamongstrain]

I hate my anxiety. It's an asshole. An inconvenience created by shit I cannot control in my brain and PTSD. I KNOW that. But at the same time... it's insidious. A voice (not literally, like I'm hearing things) inside my head that just won't stop. Messages like:

> I'm not good enough > This is going too well, you know this can't be really happening > But what if this awful thing happened? > You said something wrong. Oh you don't know what, but that delay in reply? It's definitely because you fucked up. > They're just saying those things to be nice to you > Everyone can see how fragile you are, how easy it is for me to control you. I don't know why you even bother with friends, they'll just placate you. > You're going to get hurt because you care too much, and they're just not as interested in you.

And more. This anxiety is like the most toxic "friend" you can think of. Constantly putting you down, trying to tear apart any accomplishment, or encouraging you to do behaviors that aren't good for you - aka, self-destructive behaviors.

It turns me into a bumbling mess, a snappy piece of shit, or makes my impulses go into overdrive. And I just want to MUTE IT. I am on medications... sure. I'm on anxiety meds I can take for it... if I want to be comatose shortly after (can't be anxious if you're in a coma, right?). There are medications, of course, that might be more effective... except... I'm afraid to be on benzos. I don't want to get addicted to them. I've seen what addiction can do, and I don't want that to be me.

Alcohol sometimes muffles it, and occasionally mutes it, but again, I don't want to get addicted to that. Edibles don't work nearly as well for me as for others either (I can't smoke.)

So now I sit here... trapped in this anxious hell... and just want it to go away, stop, shut up, any of those really. It's times like these, that I debate the forever nap as a way to release me from the hold anxiety has... but at the same time... death now scares me. Not like... in the typical sense. But because there is so much I want to do, and I don't want to leave my cat or loved ones missing/grieving me.

I just feel trapped in this ill mind of mine...

[walksamongstrain]

I'm tired. There are days when I wish my illness wasn't a chemical imbalance but rather a missing limb. There are days I wish I could force people to live in my shoes for a week every time they dismiss what I'm going through.

Then again, I don't want anyone to suffer like I do, in silence, my illness and struggles invisible to everyone around me, but the symptoms are clear as day, there for them to throw away as laziness and excuses.

I already feel like an outsider in my own skin. Unable to control when, where, or how my body will decide to short change me, and send me into that dark space again. I see the looks of disbelief, I feel the eyes rolling even though I don't see them whenever I have to cancel plans due to my health.

Maybe if it wasn't so invisible, they would actually be able to see, to understand...

Hospitalization for cancer or amputation doesn't hold a stigma when it comes to employment if you can do the job... but it does if the illness isn't visible and is in the head.

But at the same time, I'm so ashamed of my mental health issues. Of the burden I am on others. I fear that if it were any more visible, my desire to exist would dwindle to nothing from shame alone. And for those who have the marks to show for the struggles and pain, they're judged just as harshly.

Where as an amputee or cancer patient is taken seriously when they tell you they're tired or struggling, I'm instead doubted if it's not seen, and shamed if it is.

I'm constantly told I'm the problem by those who never even try to understand, while told I'm not a problem, I'm not alone, and it's not always my fault by those who do.

So where does the truth lie?

I'm told I'm not alone. I'm told people support me. But when I look around... there's no one there. Being told you're not the only one suffering in silence from an illness no one can see isn't much of a comfort. It's like being told you're not alone by a passing boater as you tread water in the ocean with hundreds of others, trying not to drown.

How does it help knowing I'm not the only one struggling if we're all trying not to drown? No solution, just that I'm not alone?

And then you see people you looked up to, those who helped you get through your darkest times, those older than you, who lose the same battle... and you sit there and begin to wonder: does it ever get better?

[wildfire-witch]

Ask me something 🔥

[walksamongstrain]

I want to fuck an asshole so bad right now.

[walksamongstrain]

Struggling with mental illness isn't some David and Goliath match-up where you, the underdog, is guaranteed a win. It's a foe you know is every bit your equal in a stand-up fight - you just can't see it. You can hear it - feel it - breathing down your neck, and yet there's nothing you can do because there's nothing physically there. You can swing, shoot, stab, and slash at it, but it's pointless because it doesn't have some mortal form you can slay. It simply laughs and continues to fight you.

You're fighting a game of endurance and willpower based around how many punches you can take and still be standing. Your good days are the hits you manage to block by fortunate circumstances. And maybe you get a good series of blocks in and get some momentum.

But you and I both know that momentum is just as scary as knowing you can't truly fight back. You know that you're going to miss a block and take a hit. There's no question about that... rather, the question is simply, "How hard will it be?"

The worst part is you often don't know when it'll happen. There's no bracing for it. No telltale stance shift or body language to anticipate that next blow.

It's a fight you can't seem to truly win. You can't cure your mental illness. And it's tiring.

The only thing you can hope for is that between therapy and drugs, you can predict and be better equipped to deflect and block the blows instead of simply taking them... and that's still exhausting.

[walksamongstrain]

I am tired.

I am tired of fighting every minute of every single day.

I fight to wake up. I fight to sleep. I fight to get the smallest crumb of happiness. Every. Single. Day.

I fight my own damn brain - my anxiety, my bipolar disorder, my executive disfunction, and all the bullshit that comes with them - every day.

And to add to that, I fight every for everybody else.

And yet... I never feel like somebody is fighting FOR ME. When is it MY turn? When am I good enough to fight for?

And I HATE saying that because to me, I sound selfish and entitled...

But the truth is I'm tired of surviving. I want to live, to be happy.

"Just let it go. Make the choice -" No fuck you. You think it's just so easy to flip a switch and that thinking differently will suddenly fix this fucking chemical imbalance in my brain. News flash! IT WON'T.

I would give damn near ANYTHING to not have to fight this battle every day for the rest of my life.

But I don't get that choice. I don't have that genie in a lamp to make it all go away. Instead I have medications I have to remember to take every day. I have unsolicited advice thrown my way by everyone with an opinion and too few who have a clue.

It's hard to exercise when you're fighting yourself to simply get out of bed, to eat, to shower, to put clothes on.

[rainstormpics]

[yourlocaladhder]

Ya'll read this thread ! It's not something I have actively thought about but I think they make a great point here.

[autism-adhd-information-blog-de]

This is very interesting!

Rebloging for awareness.

Autism

[slippery-minghus]

adding the rest of the thread because WOW. if that isn't it tho

[starathsbunker]

This bit right here: 

THIS THIS THIS THIS

[walksamongstrain]

ADHD Here

[nidorion]

lichtenberg scars

[walksamongstrain]

I absolutely hate hurting those I care about. Like it hurts me, that I hurt them. And I'm going to be honest, knowing I hurt them really, REALLY, makes me double down on punishing myself. Because honestly... I'd rather they beat me black and blue, then hug, kiss, hold, and talk with me after... because at least I'd know they felt better, and they weren't going to leave me or hate me... this whole healthy processing of feelings and distance, lack of contact... it terrifies me. I don't know what's coming. I don't know if my fuck up will the the last time I talk to them because they hate me and cut me off entirely... costing me my closest friends.

Ambiguity has never been my friend. I'd rather take a beating knowing things would be better for them after, and cry from physical pain, then cry from emotional pain and not knowing whether we'll be friends after.

[writing-prompt-s]

You are a student with the least amount of magic potential ever recorded at the Academy and it’s the day of the familiar summoning test. A misplaced rune or word results in an arch demon/ess becoming bound as your familiar.

[walksamongstrain]

I love this.

The problem for me is that I haven't been able to get there in my own head.

What if I am enough? What then? What changes for me once I decide that? Because the reality is I see that and it's a void of unknowns. A black hole for which I see no light, no answers. And ambiguity has not been my friend. It never has been and probably won't ever be.

So, what if I am enough? Does anything really change for me?

And much like religion, these negative messages have served to provide answers to events in my life... the SA, the being cheated on, being abandoned... feeling unworthy or unlovable - as much as those hurt - it provides the explanation.

Once that's removed... what else is there?

[writing-prompt-s]

As the two disabled ships manned only by their captains after a skirmish slowly drift into a black hole, the alien captain is hailed by the human captain who at this point just wants someone to talk to now that they’re both alone and helpless.

[walksamongstrain]

Yet another prompt to visit

[writing-prompt-s]

Living a secluded life off the grid was also something you wanted to do and have been doing for the past 20 years, only heading to the nearest town 20miles away to get some odd supplies every 6 months. On your latest visit, you are greeted by the dead roaming the streets.

[walksamongstrain]

Again, for a later prompt

[writing-prompt-s]

Your quest was to find a demon willing to accept your deal, none of them said yes. “Primordial demons don’t make deals, if you go too deep, just turn back” but you went deeper and deeper, meeting the ancient ones that knew no words.

[walksamongstrain]

Revisiting this for one of my prompts