And I realize I’ve probably blogged about this before, but man, I just read a good one.
And before we get to that, the vacation was pretty rad. I did not really do much beyond read a lot, nap, fly kites, splash around the ocean, take a four mile hike (2 miles up, 2 miles back) along the beach, take pictures, and hang out with the in-laws and several of their friends.
We got back today (Sunday) and the Enemy of Sleep has been glued to me since we got back. When I am not laying down so she can rub, drool and flop all over me, she hides under the bed making incredibly sad noises.
This is the longest I’ve ever been away from her.
She did not like it.
So, one of the things I did was, when we were in town, load up a bunch of fan fiction to read through when we got back to the campground. And a lot of the fics I read were definitely of the “I’m working through some shit through this fic,” variety.
Sometimes those are both the best and the hardest to read.
The most recent “workin’ through some shit” fic I read dealt with being the survivors of a suicide, from someone you never saw it coming from.
That one hit really damn hard. I sobbed through most of it.
It was beautifully written, and as someone who has lost a lot of people to suicide over the years, or to things that might be suicide even if no note was left, it hit me super hard in the feels.
Another I read over my vacation dealt with the aftermath of cutting, and having to explain to someone who loves you later what those scars are from and why.
This also hit me in the feels, as someone who used to self harm. I got over that a long time ago, but sometimes… the urge never entirely leaves.
I have written a LOT of “workin’ through shit” fics over the years, including the one that I read out loud in a bar last year. That was probably one of the hardest things I ever did, and I was a burlesque dancer. I felt more naked completely clothed and reading the fic 16 year old me wrote to work through having been raped, than I ever did stripped down to panties and pasties in front of a room full of people.*
So, yes. If you write fic I love you. If you write “workin’ through shit” fic, I love and support you unconditionally. I read it, and you are not alone.
*And by room full of people, I mean packed bars or a room with more than 100 folks in it. You know, more people than is strictly comfortable, but still a small enough number you can make out individual faces.
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Also, if you’d like to see what sort of fiction I write when left to my own devices, please feel free to check out my fiction Patreon, Nothing Nice Comes Out of My Head.