Peace Making Puns

...so I took the batteries out of the smoke alarms...

i want to confess that i am a major levi simp. mock me all u want.

however, i've made my peace with levi dying in AOE a long time ago.

i just want the basic things:

1. 100% rumbling

2. mikasa death

3. true freedom for paradis, eldians, and eren

4. E+H=Y

and u know what? if my favorites like levi have to die in order to get those 4 things, then so be it. i just want kino. if i can sacrifice my love for levi for kino, anything is possible.

I'm not suicidal. I don't actually want to die, but I don't have many reasons to live. All my plans for the future died in 2020. Along with the friends I had made those plans with.

I don't know how long my life will be. I don't know how much destruction and death I will witness. I don't know how much grief I will have to bear. It already feels like an impossible amount, such that the person I was in 2018 would not recognize the person I've become.

I don't have a dream job any more (I don't even want to work - living on savings for a while ). I don't have life goals. I can't travel to see the beautiful landscapes we are destroying. I can't afford to enjoy most of modern life's luxuries. I've had to make my peace with the fact that I'm basically living my life to pass time until I die.

I don't want to die, but I can't find a reason to live. I don't have anything to do other than pass the time.

Yes, I have a cat. Yes, she is the majority of my reason for living.

Yes, I have hobbies. I like old crafts. I've picked up spinning wool into yarn. Somehow, it helps a little.

Humans have been spinning for thousands of years. The world would be unrecognizable to my ancestors but they would know what spinning is. They would be impressed with the shades of dyed fiber I am able to procure for myself. Purple was expensive once upon a time. I bought some hideously bright purple wool just so I could have a moment of "luxury". I don't know what I'll make, yet.

I guess technically I have made my ancestors proud.

I get up, I pet the cat. I eat some food, I spin some wool. I read the news, I get sad, I knit something. I go to sleep, I have nightmares. I wake up and do it all again, until someday, I will die.

I really don't know what else to do. I watch cheesy old tv shows while I knit. It's more enjoyable than modern stuff. Working through some subtitled Japanese series, the action kind aimed at teens, with heroes in spandex suits fighting rubber monsters (Kamen Rider, Super Sentai, Ultraman, etc). They're cheesy but they have an earnestness to the cheese. You can tell they had a lot of fun making these shows.

I want to remember how to find that kind of joy.

So I will knit, and I will pet the cat, and I will take it one day and one tokusatsu series at a time. Someday, I will die.

With as much knitting as I will probably get in, I guess I won't die cold.

Dear old friend,

We go way back, but I don’t think we’ve ever been very close. I want to change that. Consider this letter a means of reaching out to you and lending you a hand that, for once, intends to be helping.

-----

Getting high-speed Internet at home as a teenager changed our relationship forever. It was like gifting an album by The Smiths to a suicidal kid. All of a sudden I had endless fuel for my self-destructive tendencies. I could use porn to keep you hard for as long as I wanted, and I struggled to put limits to it. The binges extended for more and more hours each time as I developed a crippling addiction to Internet porn.

I compulsively watched porn throughout my whole teenage years, hooked to the dopamine hit that I got from every new video. This addiction consumed me completely and prevented me from developing sexually in healthier ways. For a long time, I ignored the negative impact that porn was having on my life, but I was even more blind to the ill effects it was causing on you.

It seems like throughout all those years all you ever got was shit, and yet you seemed to overcome every obstacle and come back from it untarnished. Perhaps that made me overconfident and I wrongfully learned to take you for granted.

-----

My mid-twenties were the period in my life when I finally broke out of my shell and started to lead some sort of dating/love life. I was impatient to get out of my hole of shyness and inexperience, and losing my virginity was the turning point I had been anxiously yearning for so long. Imagine my frustration when I finally got a chance to do it, and you didn’t stand up for me.

I struggled with erectile dysfunction for years, dragging it along with me throughout my whole dating life. And through all of that and for all of it, I blamed you. I blamed you for not getting up in front of any girl — when I most needed you — no matter how much I wanted to have sex with them. I blamed you because you did not seem to have a problem when it was just you and me (and porn), but you retreated the moment things got real and stakes were high. You were the deadlock that stood between me and the accomplishment that I then saw as the key to turning my life around for the better, and I hated you for that.

I now understand that you were not the problem, but just another victim. The real blocker had never been in you, but way up here in my head. My acute performance anxiety was keeping me from relaxing and being present, and it was that

I just want to share my experience with trichotillomania and why I'm working on finding peace with it rather than trying to overcome it.

The truth is I can't overcome my trichotillomania. I started when I was 13 and it's taken me 14 years to realize that, while I may take breaks from pulling my hair, I will always circle back to it. And that's okay with me. Rather than fight my best fight against my urges only to beat myself up when I can't resist them, I'm learning that I might pull my hair out and that's okay.

I just buzzed my hair for the fourth time in the past 6 months. It's patchy in areas that I've pulled but I'm done trying to grow my long hair back. I'm maintaining a buzz cut that will hopefully get more dense as I continue letting it grow, trimming it back when it's long enough for me to pull it out again. With just 3mm of hair on my head, I actually feel really beautiful and like I'm being honest with myself.

So my success story starts with me learning that it's okay that I pull my hair out. Rather than fight the urges, I'm learning to coexist with them. I like accepting my trichotillomania, it feels better than trying to hide it.

I'm happy 😊

I love this sub. I love my dawgs. I love you all, but our game thread was miserable.

We have people shit talking SBIV while we had a 31 point lead, and SBIV's legs and arm were a large part of that. Yes, he makes dumb throws sometimes. The flipside of that is that his mobility has gotten him out of what would have been surefire sacks if JT Daniels was in the backfield. Ultimately, we are in a wonderful position. We have a scrappy underdog QB who is balling out when needed, and if he stops balling out, we have a spark waiting in the wings to come ignite the offense. THIS IS A GOOD THING. The most common thing I have seen said is that Stetson leaves a points on the table. This is true. He has done that many times. There has never been a team in existince to score on 100% of their drives. Stetson has made bad throws where drives may have ended early. The flipside is that were JT in, he would probably take sacks that end drives early that stetson may have scrambled out of. No team is capable of 100% offense efficiency. It just doesn't happen. We just need to appreciate how fortunate we are for having two QB's with unique skillsets that can win us games. I'll get off my soapbox now. I love you all and most importantly GO DAWGS!

Hey all, I was diagnosed with POTs about two years ago, after an extremely stressful situation put way too much strain on my body and caused a serious flare. Been learning to live with it slowly, and gotten pretty good at knowing my limits and how to manage bad days to keep them from escalating. Unfortunately this has also made me unable to work. I keep looking for opportunities, but I’m not consistently abled enough to keep regular hours.

My body has proven very sensitive to stress and part time online classes are about the most I’ve managed to handle. I went from pursuing my dream job to now having to question whether I’ll ever be able to earn a living wage at all. It’s a frustrating realization.

Basically I’m having a hard time altering my expectations for myself and accepting what I’ve learned are my limits. I’m wondering if folks have any advice for how to cope with such a massive change?

Avoidance is a big thing for me because between CPTSD and ADHD, I can find anxiety without trying. I’m new to IFS, but I think what’s happens is that an exile (maybe fear, shame) comes up and my protectors end up in gridlock. I tend to be more merged with the manager(s?), but I think I see why they have issues.

With ADHD, my managers aren’t standard edition. Despite this, they got the same training as everyone else and get overwhelmed because they can’t reliably direct their system like other managers can. When their plans fail, Shame comes and scares the manager into trying to be more domineering and rigid (which does NOT work).

Then the manager finds itself waiting for the right firefighter to come. By waiting, I mean trying to summon it with anything it has. Often a “wrong” firefighter will come and the manager will panic because the firefighter has taken over the situation and it’s priority is my most immediate discomfort. Then I’m gridlocked. The firefighter tries to cool things off but the manager won’t let it do anything because it fears that the fire squad will take over and “save” the system like The Avengers “save” a city. The firefighters nod to this, but say that the manager is a chronic catastrophizer cramping their style because they never get to act out like that anyway.

So how do I get them to cooperate? Or is that the goal?

Firstly, I fell apart and cried a lot. Then this,

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/asylums/special/excerpt.html

For a little background, the sanatoriums of the first part of the 1900's were essential to our society's healthcare. They were not the frightening places depicted in Hollywood movies. Often they had great outdoor spaces, vegetable gardens patients could tend to, and communities of support. Politics aside, one cannot argue we've all suffered from deinstitutionalization. We are now individually tasked with the burden of normalizing the abnormal.

I am not content to split my spouse all black as they've done me. And yet I have come face-to-face with the dark side of their being. I accept I live in a culture that has unleashed a plague on the common man. Here is how I reconcile my sense of self to my feelings so that I may live in full acceptance of reality and unconditional love...

Aside from the depravity and cruelty, I find myself thinking about this circumstance similar to a relative that died of Alzheimer's. Once it got so bad, they were sent to a residential facility for care. You know they've lost their mind, lost touch with reality, can say and do really ugly things, but are impervious to the consequence because they've lost their mind.

This is what it is like in my mind with my BPD spouse.

I am quite capable of visiting for a cup of tea and kissing them on the forehead and reminding them I love them on the way out. I have no desire to take them with me and I didnt come for a visit today with a hope they'd sneak out with me. They belong here and I belong out there in the world. There autonomy is greatly diminished. Mine is fully functional. They are mentally disabled. I am not. I do not have the 24/7 resources to care for them and they cannot care for themselves. They are a danger to themselves and others in the free world.. Hence, this is where they must stay. My "relationship" to them must be amenable to the tragedy of the circumstance. And that is ok. Alternatively, if I live in denial of the circumstance I am at risk of losing my touch with reality. I don't feel sorry for them, and they don't feel sorry for me.

The greatest honor I can do them is to remember them in the glimpses of their humanity and sanity. I do what they cannot; I remember. I do what they cannot; I hold space for them in my heart. It is a great act of *

Hi all. I’m hoping to receive some feedback on what has helped you make peace with changes in your appearance that would be deemed less than desirable. I’m 26 / woman / and most people all my life have considered me pretty or attractive. I have until recently had healthy self esteem and relationship with self. I recently developed malar festoons and they’re making me feel extremely insecure. Rather than resort to saving for an expensive treatment, I want to shift my perspective and simply embrace what’s going on. As well as of course, having a healthy lifestyle that’s not too obsessed with being “healthy”. How have you achieved equanimity with your changing body? What has taken you by surprise? What belief systems help you? One of mine is that being young at heart shines through no matter what the appearance may be, and often times due to the chemical dynamics happening within this can often help reduce the appearance of aging. I suppose this can get a bit metaphysical. Curious to hear your experiences. Many blessings.

I’ve been writing fanfic for my current fandom for a month and a half, and have been enthralled by the kudos and comments. Not because there’s so many, because there aren’t, but simply because I know some people out there like my writing.

This is my problem: I have a constant voice in my head calling me boring, cringe and unrelatable, and this extends to my writing capabilities. So, I try to constantly ground myself in reality. Do I suck? And if I do, how can I improve? What will I do about it?

The first of my stories is an /reader, I used to hate these kinds of stories but they’re cute. It has the highest amount of kudos.

The second is a religion based story I’m still updating, it’s just so easy to write something that I identify strongly with. This is my only fanfic with comments and I cherish them so much.

The third is the most challenging one of all, yet most exciting. I’m still updating. I wrote one of the chapters from the perspective of an inanimate object. It’s not too captivating because inanimate objects aren’t the funnest mcs but it’s something I want to get really good at. My weakness is getting into the shoes of a unique character, but that makes it all the more exciting to grow as a writer.

The fourth and fifth are my rare pairs that nobody else writes but I’m in love with, and these ones have the highest kudos to hits ratio.

My highest amount of kudos is 10, but the more realistically and in detail I think about my stories, the prouder I feel.

I love my partner and have been with her for almost three years. She has cycles where she is very blue and depressed, very volatile and combative and very talkative and energetic.

I’ve learned to cope with the last two. How does one cope with leaving someone alone when they are in despair? I’ve taken on a self destructive care taker role and it’s damaging my work life.