and she was like – oh my god, they were roommates

talking through specific childhood stuff and, like, things your parents did with a therapist who verified that these things weren’t healthy or okay is… …validating but also upsetting, because now I have to Deal With More Things

LITTLE GIRL: Mom, do you think that person wants to know my name?
MOM: Why don’t you ask her?
LITTLE GIRL: No, you tell her my name. But pick another name that’s not my name.
MOM: Okay. . .this is Batman.
LITTLE GIRL: Yeah! Batman is my REAL NAME.

reasonable expectations for myself for where i am at the moment:

going to work

going to therapy

normal hygiene stuff

maintaining friendships with the caveat that i need extra special help from the people i want to maintain friendships with, i.e.: keep asking me to do stuff even when i say no

taking my meds

working on being aware of what’s happening in my brain and my body and how it impacts my life – not actually having answers or solutions, just being aware

moving. maybe not exercising (ideally but eh) but moving

writing what makes me happy to be writing

Have you told your therapist about the gun? how you feel about it?

Yes! I hadn’t any like…specific active suicidal thoughts since before I started seeing her, just generic “I want to stop existing” ones, so we filled out a safety plan and she soothingly encouraged me to talk to my parents.

I straight up lied to my mom and said that she told me to remove or hide anything that could be a trigger just in case but that I didn’t have suicidal thoughts, mostly because when I started to talk about it she was, like *dramatic gasp* “ARE YOU HAVING SUICIDAL THOUGHTS?!” and I cannot deal with that.

But I talked to her! And she’s gonna hide it! So, that’s a thing.

Happy femslash time! Foggy gets her braces off and Matt and her make out.

“Hey, you survived,” Matt says, when Foggy
comes out of her orthodontist’s office. Matt had been hanging out in the
waiting room, but someone who was sitting near her had some serious gum damage
and that’s not a pleasant smell.

“I did,” Foggy says, dramatically, leaning
against the doorway. “I did survive. Come here, please. My legs have forgotten
how to leg, and I need to kiss your face.”

“My face?”
Matt asks, standing up so Foggy can wrap her arms around her, clinging.

“I was waiting for this,” Foggy says,
seriously. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” Matt breathes. “Yeah, you can.”