#988lifeline

if i have parental controls on my device still because my father is a control freak. which I do. if I text a hotline such as 988 or whatever else can he see it and how. This is what I plan to do

text them when hes not home

after convo is done, delete it from my recent messages

uhhh yeah thats it do I need to do anything else.

PLS help me bruh if i google this i will be CAUGHT also Google makes no sense because it only gives me ai responses and nothing on articles answer my very specific question

you have a purpose make good impacts to the world and be kind!!

Mutuals: @makaversecolon3@majestydeerakuma@dsharpie@whocaresifwearecrazy@aceharpe@linavloger@thatblukirby@creamcarbonatedbeverage@beepsparks@natiebugs @themaria4567892 @tmpnerdofficial@propranksterpropaganda@lavenderroomie@weedleysnumberonefan@cookie-dot-ai@remsterden@youdontknowacee@schmitty-schmitstinstein@beepsparks@xsallysaltsaltx@skymikaela@transmasc-offical@redactedkin@quizkiller@addiethedragoncat@strawberryxex@spacedustthethisuser

I don't know how I made it

Every hurdle felt like quicksand

I'd make the jump and then fall when it got too much

Sometimes I couldn't stand up

Sometimes I wouldn't stand up

I called that help line that felt like my only lifeline

Heartbreak and loss and betrayal

I almost had my first time. I'm glad I didn't.

I was almost a homewrecker. I'm glad I wasn't.

I could've given up. I'm glad I couldn't. I couldn't seem to die.

But I still made those red lines in my skin

I let the burn and the sting in

On my arms and on my legs

I was like an egg waiting to crack

To bring back what little sanity I had left

I waited and listened and helped and assisted

I had brothers and sisters and lovers

And I still fell

Fell into the abyss of Hell

One where Death is sold and blades are given

And I still smiled. Still laughed.

I faced the quicksand

Now I stand. Tired and exhausted.

But alive.

I bought a fern and some patio chairs and I have been going for a million walks and I am trying to slow down my thoughts and I am no longer giving my energy away so freely to so many people and I have been eating sour candy at work when I feel my skin starting to heat up and I have been taking 5mg melatonin each night and I am speaking gently out loud to myself and my cat, Amber, and my guppy, Edgar, and I am realizing that I am a product of the psychiatric polypharmacy that was trending in the late 90s to the late 2010s. I was a guinea pig, and I am still dealing with the medication side effects...and the side effects' side effects, and that shit makes healing in therapy more difficult. My whole biochemistry and brain structure and metabolism have been changed by decades of SSRIs and SNRIs and anxiolytics and low dose antipsychotics and mood stabilizers, and I'm not responding to treatments anymore, so of course stunted doctors will lean hard on that antiquated personality disorder diagnosis that is mostly gifted to females like me.

I'm trying to see this as an opportunity. The time to really confront this old beast that has been tromping menacingly behind me since I was an eight-year-old wearing blue and white striped culottes. Maybe not even confront, maybe sit the thing down on a park bench somewhere and explain to him that we aren't in danger anymore. And then remind him again and again and again until he can sigh and quieten down for longer periods of time. Now is the time to really figure out how to hush my heart muscle into a slower, more regular rhythm, and go to bed at night without needing anything to lull me safely to sleep. For me, this is the real work, and the medications kept me separated from it for at least the last ten years.