"You're safe with me, I promise. And when you get scared: Look me in the eyes, hold me a little tighter, and smile. Because I'm not going anywhere." -Unknown | Welcome to The Safe Place. A place devoid of poltics, controversy, and unacceptance. Here you are loved, you are safe, and nothing can hurt you. Now, come relax with me. I'll chase away the dark. âĄ
nothing is too small or insignificant to have as your reason to live. live because you just found a song that you really like and you want to listen to it one more time. live because you want to see your friendâs next birthday. live because tomorrow is supposed to be warm. live because sunday is supposed to be rainy. live because you want to see your pets face light up when you give them a treat. you will find big reasons to live, but you donât have to find them right now. you donât have to know your purpose, but live anyways.
âBut they havenât actually done anything wrong and they seem nice and I donât want to hurt their feelingsâ BLOCK THEM!!! You do not OWE THEM anything!!! You do not owe a COMPLETE STRANGER your presence!!! You do not need to let them into your SPACE!!!
âBut what if they spiral or get mad or think they did something wrong?â Did YOU say they did something wrong? Did YOU say âIâm blocking you because I hate youâ? Do YOU hold the puppet strings to their emotions? NO!!! You do not!!!
SET BOUNDARIES!!! Be polite always but be firm too!!! You are allowed to SET BOUNDARIES!!! And guess what??? YOU DONâT CONTROL PEOPLEâS REACTIONS!!! All you can control is YOU and what is around YOU.
Someone who gets ANGRY when you set boundaries is someone you NEED to set boundaries against!!!
British artist Jason Anderson creates colorful abstract paintings composed of pixelated swatches of pastel-toned oil paint. Up-close, the artistâs paintings look like blocky layers of shapes and color; but, from afar, his scenesâfeaturing cityscapes, roads, trains, and marinasâare revealed.
Anderson began his career as a stained glass apprentice, where he worked on restoring the windows of cathedrals. He soon progressed onto designing the glass murals himself, where he learned how to break down subject matter into âjigsawsâ of colored sections. This approach still shines through in his paintings todayâcomplex scenes are brought to life with simple shapes and careful consideration to hue and tone.
I just read a Reddit post about feelings of inadequacy and jealousy in relation to otherâs writing, that clawing in your stomach when you read something that is so gripping, so incredibly paced, or simply so wildly popular (dripping with kudos, comments, what have you) that you just want to quit, because you canât write like that, you will never be as talented, as popular, etc, etc.
Itâs such a ugly emotion that I hate to even admit to it, but I just feel like so many writers need to hear this and need to know they are not alone when theyâre overcome with this feeling.
The thing that has really helped me is remembering that Iâm the only person on earth who can tell the stories I tell.
Every person has a unique history and background that makes them uniquely capable of creating what they do.
I try to equate it to music. There are indie artists whose music I adore (Bright Eyes is a band that specifically comes to mind). What if your favorite band listened to Mozart or BeyoncĂŠ and thought, I will never be as talented at composing as Mozart or as famous as Beyonce, and therefore, I will never write another song.
How sad would you be, how bereft, if the artists you love gave up because they werenât âthe best?â
You are that perfect writer, not to everyone, but to someone.
That means something. It is so difficult to remember, but it all comes back to self-esteem. You are worthwhile and your writing is worthwhile NOT because itâs the best, but because thereâs only one person in the world who could write it, and there is someone out there who needs to read it. Maybe you can make someone smile or feel or laugh, and what an incredible gift that is, one you shouldnât hide.
So I urge you not to dim your shine for any reason. Keep going, find your audience, get better, KEEP AT IT. The worst thing you can do is give up, because thatâs the only sure way you will never be that kind of amazing writer you wish to emulate.
If youâre curious, I wrote in college, then took a 10 year break due to feelings of inadequacy after having writerâs block and receiving a lukewarm response to some chapters I posted. I decided 2020 was my year and have written 42 works (some short stories, some long ones) since January. I swore to myself that I wouldnât let anything stop me from enjoying my hobby again, and thatâs why I want to encourage myself and others to feed their passions. ďżź
pairing: tsukishima kei / warning: panic attack, reader has a hard time breathing / word count: 1k / genre: hurt/comfort
a/n: i was and am aware that while writing this, panic attacks can be different for everyone, so i only wrote it by describing my experience on what it has been like for me. also, iâll probably make another part with akaashi and bokuto or some other characters :) reblogs are appreciated too. <3
tsukishima kei
covered in sweat, shaking hands and breath, and continuing to zone out into the wonders of nothing. tsukishima knew too well that for you to be distant, trying to cover hidden emotion, there was something wrong.
but if you werenât willing to talk, it was something heâd rather not bring up. that wasnât to be ignorant of your nervous actions and tendencies, but to make sure you werenât uncomfortable and give time for you, not him, to speak.
âkei?â
your leg was bouncing, and at the feel of you grabbing his arm with nails buried skin deep, their marks and small curves in the colour of red, he looked over and cuffed your cheek.
âare you okay?â
there was no answer to why you felt the way you did. to why all the sudden from wanting to feel every part of his touch against your skin, you wanted to disappear, and without knowing why and regardless, tsukishima wished he could help.
the voice in your head, the insecurities building up, and the terrifying thought of abandonment. it never seemed to leave you alone.
youâre a burden, annoyance, irritation, too much, not enough. tsukishima is better off.
he could sense you on the verge of tears.
âiâm here for you.â
you knew that. but, it didnât help with the blur in your vision, unable to see anything. unable to hear with cloudy thoughts that filled every empty space of your head.
he could do so much better than someone to what you thought was pathetic. tsukishima kei deserved more. he deserved to not deal with your affection. he deserved to be left alone and not have a burden like you always following and trailing his side. heck, he deserved more in every possible and attainable way.
but itâs only your thoughts, itâs not true. only your thoughts.
âyou shouldnât have to deal with me like this, kei. iâm a mess and youâre sitting there trying toâ to calm me down.â
âyou have to give me a little more than that. itâs okay. take your time. weâre notâ thereâs no rush,â he said, your breathing only progressing to get worse.
âi needâ i need you.â
and laid onto the couch with tsukishimaâs face in the crook of your neck and head secured into his hand, you heard whispers of reassurance.
âi know youâre upset right now. i know. talk to me about it.â
âi want to be good enough.â
your body started shaking and trusting itself up and down uncontrollably, still crying and breathing getting worse.
âi want to be good enough for you and for everything you are. i know sometimes i can be a lot of things and to be dealt with, but i want it to be enough.â tsukishima listened to every word you said, because your voice was important, and to understand what happened, made sure you were heard.
âhey,â he said, his body half over yours but leaving enough space for you to breathe and let things out, âyou are enough.â
itâs just three effortless words.
âno, itâs not though. iâm notâ i donât feel like iâm enough. i want to feel like iâm good enough and that i can be good enough for you, and i want toââ
âstop. breathe, and look at me in my eyes. you are more than what i need. i want this. i want you.â
even the parts where you panicked so much and had trouble staying calm? the parts where on your body you felt insecure? did tsukishima include and mean everything, or just what he liked?
âi promise you. i love you. i want you for this and everything else that you are and nothing else. i want you. just, you. for when you need me. for when i need you. for every. single. part.â
tsukishima was never good with his words, let alone comforting someone or showing such affirmation. it was at this moment that for the first time, to see you cry, he broke, and each sentence of reassurance came like they could all be spoken a thousand times, every bit meaningful as another; they managed to calm your anxiety and mind. that was a start.
âi donât care how many times i need to say that. youâre the person i love. the person i love for both everything good and bad. you are enough.â
you shook your head.
âyes, you are. the way you smile even when i say something rude and understand my sarcastic jokes that most of the time piss me off.â
you were quiet, not answering a thing he said when he talked.
âthe way you come to each of my games, even though i tell you itâs really not important.â
you looked to his eyes.
âyouâre there to make me smile when i lose, and youâre there to get me excited when i win. i donât just get excited either.â
his fingers never stopped to run through your scalp, hopeful messaging it would help you relax. a kiss was placed upon trembling lips, but at the shock of it, slowly brought your consciousness from wonders of negativity back to tsukishima himself; he smirked and chuckled at the sudden attention, pulling you closer to his body and warmth for more intimate touches.
âkei?â
âwhat can i do for you?â
âstay here, please. i donât want you to leave.â
how could he ever? it couldnât surprise the most clueless of people that tsukishima wasnât affectionate or seemed like the one to love, but with you, there was a whole other side. one to forever appreciate when bothered to be seen.
âi have you.â
in every possible, selfless, passionate, and admirable way, tsukishima loved you to the entire fullness of his heart.
Are we as the trans community ready to acknowledge that sometimes gender just straight up changes?
Obviously this doesnât apply to all people, but for some trans people they were fine being their AGAB until they werenât.
I used to follow an enby who proudly identified as a woman for years before one day they just went âactually⌠it changed. Iâm not vibing with that any more. I was a woman, but now Iâm not and Iâm ready to open a different chapter of my life.â
Sometimes people who are genderfluid donât have fluctuating dysphoria, and just have a changing gender.
Sometimes non-binary people will find that their masc/femme alignment changes.
Sometimes people who were binary feel more non-binary, or oppositely binary.
âIt took me a while to admit to myself that I was trans, but on some level Iâve always knownâ is a super common narrative and a lot of people feel this way. And itâs often a useful framing. I tried to fit into it because it seems sorta legitimizing, you know? If I was always that way, then itâs not a phase or a trend.
However, if Iâm being very honest, I donât feel that my masculine identity existed before I was aware of it. I feel like it arose. I was fine with being a woman for years, until I started having these odd little prickles of what I recognize now as dysphoria. I feel like Iâd lose a part of my experience if I were to retcon being a woman.
I donât feel like it was a choice, exactly, but I did change. I donât much care why it happened; thatâs all a bit ineffable. If I had been given a choice - if the gender fairy had appeared unto me and said âI can change your gender but youâll still have to deal with dysphoria and make decisions about medical transition,â I think I still wouldâve done it. More than any specific gender identity, what feels innate/unchanging to me is an openness toward unusual experiences.
Iâll never forget this AMA on reddit. Itâs by a woman who had transitioned hormonally and socially and lived as a gay trans man for well over a decade before her gender shifted again and she detransitioned and returned to living as a woman. She had no regrets about transitioning, felt she was a trans man during those years, and still identifies as trans. She also expresses that she didnât have dysphoria when she transitioned and still doesnât and that she transitioned based on what felt ârightâ and how she wanted to be viewed and interact with society at the given time instead.
