Ultxian - Riya

Wei Wuxian’s adventures in wooing Lan Zhan gift-giving 😂💝 | MDZS Q ep.09

i found a loophole i will just make everyone dislike me so it's not a burden for anyone but me after all why should anyone have to suffer cause im not okay i should be capable of dealing with my trauma

get okay with being some level of burden on others, seriously

How many times do we have to say it: SELF-DIAGNOSIS IS VALID.

Official diagnosis take time and money lots of people don't have. Medical treatment and professionals are often biased against minorities. Medical professionals often don't know or don't care about nuanced or rare disorders, and either aren't able to diagnose or aren't willing to diagnose them because of stupid reasons like they don't believe they're real, even though they're in the DSM.

In short, if you disagree with self-diagnosis, if you think self diagnosis isn't valid, if you assume self-diagnosed people don't have what they say they have... shut up. Especially if you don't even have that condition/disorder.

People assume that doctors and medical professionals are perfect because they went to school for a long time. And yeah, if you can, it's best to try to get professional help. But this isn't always possible. Often because medical professionals can be STUPID BIGOTS. Trust me, I've met a lot of them.

Look, if you have the disorder they're claiming to have and know that they're spreading misinformation and just making fun of the disorder, that's different. You have the right to call that out.

If you don't have the disorder and suspect that that's happening, keep in mind: you could be wrong, and if you are and you say something, you could damage their mental health. It's best to listen/ask others with the disorder/condition about the situation.

If you think self diagnosis is just people seeing a tiktok about a condition and deciding that they have it or to pretend that they have it, and you bully people accordingly... SHUT UP. Seriously.

Self-diagnosis often takes months of research and self-reflection. The research is often a combination of reputable medical sources and testimonies from people with personal experiences with the disorder/condition in question. It is not done for attention, or for a joke; it's done so that people can finally get answers for their symptoms, find a community, and find supports and advice that works for them.

tldr; It's not your place to judge others for their conditions, diagnosed or not. You'll never fully know what they're going through.

Self-diagnosed people, I support and care about all of you. You are loved and valid, and I hope you have/find the support you need.

this is from last year

The Unapologetic Self as the Truest form of Self

oh this made my day

i like to think that one day lwj was worried baby sizhui was missing being around wwx and wq, because lwj isn’t anything like them, so he specifically went and found the most talkative disrespectful judgemental baby lan and was like please be friends with my son

lowkey redid my entire acc cause i stopped using this after like 2017 and my aesthetic at that time was um

My relationship with content creation and hobbies, in general, got a lot better when I started learning to reframe it as a simple act of human creation, and not a metric of my own self worth.

We’re taught competition, and perfectionism, and shame. If I say “I cook” I must add “(but not well)”. If I say “I run” I must say “(but I am not good at it).” I say “I code (but I mostly know frontend).” I create and express and my first impulse is to guard against embarrassment. Lest I fall so short of marketable competence. Lest I subject myself to the mockery of being caught creating poorly. I wound myself first so others may not.

Even the advice that fights against this says “your only goal should be to be better than yourself yesterday.” But why must I be in competition with her? What happens, after the initial rapid climb in skill, when I plateau? What of injury, and atrophy, and depression, that flake these skills away? Must I return feeling compelled to over-achieve? To wallow in embarrassment until I can surpass my own previous record? To hate my work until the reception, the notes, the engagement outperform an ever rising bar? I do not want to be paralyzed by the mountains I built behind me. Why should I look behind myself when there’s a wide swath of untilled Earth that stretches far out of sight ahead of me? I want to enjoy my work, and my mediocrity, moving forward with all its ebbs and flows.

At my worst, I was nothing. I was not a writer. Because I had forgone writing for all the fear and stress and damage to my self-worth that it wrought. I was not a coder. Because I was only useful for the niches of my job, and didn’t have the heart to create something badly, on my own, for fun, lest it confirm my suspicions of mediocrity. I was not even a runner - despite the extreme and exhaustive amount of time I sunk into it - because I fell short of my previous self, and I could not hold a candle to the actually-skilled runners, and I was forced to speak of this hobby in all those guarded terms - “but i am not good” - because of how much that ate at me. 

I was no cook, and no homemaker, and no creator, because when I did those things, (I did them poorly.) 

And when all these came together, I wallowed in emptinesses. (I still do, sometimes. It’s hard and complicated). Because emptiness is what was left when I stripped myself of the things and the pursuits whose lack of value could be used to hurt me.

The change for me - the change, I think - came at the time I started to recognize that I do not deserve self-punishment for my mediocrities, for the failings of my current state of being. It was not a revelation all at once. It was a slow and progressive flirting with the idea, found almost by accident on self-help youtube channels of a very particular ilk. It came with the recognition that I had trapped myself, wiling away my time and my energy, in a state of constant apology, and shame, and self-correction for the mediocrities I dare not unleash onto the world. I boxed myself up with the promise “once I am good enough, I will be allowed to come back out”, and that was a lie. I would never have come back out. I was chasing punishing metrics of self-improvement that I did not need, and would never actually catch and maintain, and which would never love me back.

It took a long time to internalize this. It took a long time to get angry on my own behalf. It took a long time to act on it, and write again because fuck you. To run on my own terms, at my own pace, for my own enjoyment because fuck you. To create with my hands again because fuck you. To lean into the happiness of creation that I had not “earned”, because fuck you.

I like creating because it fills an emptiness that used to be there. It’s so simple, and so lovely, that humans are like this. That we want to build with our hands. That we want to assemble and construct. That we derive joy from stacking pieces together, and stringing words together, and assembling colors on a page, and moving, and singing, and baking, and knitting. Humans love to build little worlds around them. 

So why must we so actively try to cut people off from it off from it? Why do we condition ourselves to fear its mediocrity? Why does this still our hands? Why do we suffocate it for ourselves, before others can? I don’t have an answer. I can only recognize the monster. 

I want to make bad art today. I want to make bad art tomorrow. If I am a worse writer tomorrow, I want that to be fine. If I am never more than a mediocre runner, I want to be at complete peace with that. Because if not, then I might box away my hobbies again, and my loves, and my pursuits. I might go back to empty. I might go back to nothing.

I hate that emptiness I lived through. I hate that nothing. I want to make bad art for the rest of my life. 

Singing at the top of your lungs with someone you care about is a love language. Randomly breaking into a dance together is a love language. Being weird together, knowing how the other person likes their coffee, saying “you’re brilliant” or “you’re beautiful” at unexpected moments are all love languages. Text messages that day “I’m thinking of you”, or “this song reminds me of you” or “how is your day going?” are all ways of saying I miss you and therefore a love language. “Let me know when you’re home safe” is a love language. “Do you want a hug” is a love language. Listening, truly listening to a rant and offering comfort is a love language. So is sitting in silence together. Saying “I believe in you” is a love language and encouraging your passions is a love language too. Look, just look at the thousands of ways people say I love you. They don’t have to use the words at all. All you have to do is listen. Just listen.

- Nikita Gill, Love Language

My special talent is assuming our friendship is a burden on you and you dread hearing from me. So then I stop talking to you to ease the load and ruin what we had