Today Was The First Day Of Tech Week For My School Play. I Was Very Stressed And Have Also Been Dealing

Sometimes I just remember the one moment when I felt really cared for after a year of abuse from my 'best friend' and months of strained relationship with my parents after I had pushed them out during that year, then left them with the broken aftermath of their very traumatized, very expensive, daughter.

I was in the ER. Not a rare occurrence at the time. It was before one of my inpatient stays that year, but I'm not sure if it was the second or the third, they all blur together. I usually would have to spend a night there and wait for a bed to open up before being admitted, and that was how it went this time. In the middle of the night, I woke up with a nosebleed from the dry hospital air. I didn't really know what to do. Any normal person would get up and go to the nurse's station and get some tissues or something, but being a mentally ill child who was just yelled at by her mother the day before for saying she needed help because the hospital bills were already stacking up and going to the ER cost a lot of money, not to mention the inpatient stay, I didn't want to inconvenience the nurses (it's literally their job) so I just laid back with the back of my hand over my nose while I waited for it to stop. Swallowed a lot of my own blood, but I was already in such a horrible mental state, broken to my core to the point I wanted to leave mortality, that I could care less as long as nobody else was affected.

The bleeding stopped and I did the best I could to get the dried stuff off my hands by licking my finger and rubbing it off, but it was dark, so I couldn't really see if it worked. I went back to sleep and then woke up in the morning and did my usual ER routine of sitting in the dark because I didn't want to have to go out to ask the nurses to turn on the light (lightswitches weren't in the rooms for safety reasons or something idk). When one of the nurses came in to bring me breakfast, she turned on the light, but I didn't notice there was still dried blood on my hands and just ate my breakfast in silence because I never asked for them to turn on the TV. I always waited for them to suggest it since I didn't want to inconvenience them (again, it's literally their job to do that but I still felt bad asking). When she came back to take my tray, she noticed the blood and asked about it. It was only then I realized that blood on the hand of a mentally ill child in the ER because she could hurt herself is easily interpreted as literally anything other than a nosebleed. I panicked and started explaining myself, and to my relief she believed me and I wasn't put on a 1 to 1 (I had to experience that at some point later and it sucks). She left to go get me a wipe to clean it off.

She came back and I was sitting on the floor next to the weird little plastic round side table thing. I was expecting her to just throw it at me or something and leave me to clean myself up, but to my surprise she sat down in front of me and (after asking permission to touch me) started wiping my hands for me. She was just so careful and sweet about it. She called me 'honey' and it left me with a warmth in my chest that I hadn't felt in over a year.

It's kind of odd but I just look back at that memory with a weird sort of fondness. To her it was probably just a normal day on the job, but for me that moment meant so much. She was also probably just using it as an opportunity to look me over and make sure I was telling the truth about the nosebleed, but still. I was just this scared kid who felt like she was so worthless that she couldn't even ask a nurse to turn the TV on for fear that she would be loathed, and this woman went out of her way to lightly scrub the blood out of my nails.

Nowadays I'm doing better. My mental state has improved and I've been working on moving past that all, but I think that some time this past week was the 2 year anniversary of that day, and it just goes to show how far I've come. From being surprised and comforted by a psych nurse's gentle touch on my hands (the first human touch I had felt in months), to casual hugs with my friends and a year and 7 months out of the hospital as of yesterday.

really enjoying all the videos Muslims have been posting of their cats looking like this

when the humans are up at 4 am for suhoor

Reblog if you're a writer who re-reads their own work for funsies.

baby cat wear pants

My cat likes to run into rooms he isn't allowed in the second the door cracks open. But most of the time it's not because he has specific goals in mind of what to do in there. He just wants to be in there purely because he isn't supposed to be in there. As long as there isn't too much immediate danger, we've learned that if we just ignore him for a bit, he'll get bored from the lack of attention and come out on his own.

I don't know yall, but I genuinely wish you the best of luck in your endeavors! We're in this shit together...

Adults are always so concerned about me doing extracurriculars.

But-but you have bad grades because you don't do your homework!

Hate to break it to you, but that homework wouldn't be done even if I didn't have rehearsal

But you keep complaining about being in pain!

Yes, and I handle it. I'd still be in pain anyways.

But you aren't sleeping or eating enough!

True, but I'm working on it. It would be the same if I weren't in theatre

But you obviously shouldn't be doing this thing you like because you're a mess and you have other things that you should do!

Look. If I weren't doing theatre or extra choir stuff, I still would be mostly the same. I wouldn't do my busy work homework that I don't need to do to learn. I would be in pain having to move around and do things and live my life. I would have problems with self care, and mental health, and schoolwork.

But one thing that would be different? I wouldn't be as happy.

Theatre and singing have always been the best things in my life. I've made so many friends and become so much more confident in myself. I feel so amazing getting to do all these things. The only thing taking that away would accomplish is making me miserable.

I wouldn't be focusing more on my schoolwork. I'd be focusing more on the big chunk of my soul that was just ripped out. I wouldn't be magically cured of my physical and mental ailments. I would just have no reason to get out of bed in the morning anymore, or do anything productive or meaningful.

Trying to take away my happiness is not an effective solution. That's how I end up back in and out of the hospital every two months.

The local sandwich shop has a regular ass grilled cheese. They call it the 'Guilty Pleasure'. Us theatre kids frequent it, and I have had to branch out in what I order just because I can't for the life of me look the man behind the counter in the eye with a straight face and say 'yeah, I'll have the Guilty Pleasure'. No matter how many of my friends order it with no problem, I just can't...

On the other hand, the sandwich I usually get now is pretty damn good and I probably wouldn't have tried it if I had just stuck with... the Guilty Pleasure.

one thing about tumblr at least here they’re just called “posts”. Saying “I saw this tweet/reel/tiktok/short” makes me feel like I’m ordering at a restaurant where they make you say Texas Tom’s Nut-Slappin Griddle-Chizzle instead of grilled cheese