Tag: mental illness

tehri:

determamfidd:

wow, can you be any more neurotypical. Lo and behold, I have been blessed by the presence of the Thorin-Is-Scum anon once again, this time poorly disguised as another ‘Guest’. I am lowkey impressed at your dedication – did you really wade through nearly 400K just to tell me how much you despise and hate people with depression and MI, and how unworthy they are of anyone’s esteem or admiration? How tiresome you find their struggles? 

Go away. You are unwelcome in any part of my life, and that includes FFN. GO. AWAY.

(for those who cannot read the very small pic, transcript under the cut. Though I honestly wouldn’t bother. I’m only posting it here bc I am angry and need to yell at them to FUCK THE FUCK OFF, and I can’t do that on FFN.)

Keep reading

Far as I’ve honestly picked up, Thorin is the type of character who cannot see much of a reason to love himself – never has, and maybe never will. He doesn’t like himself as a person, and the more he looks at his past, the more he sees failure after failure after failure. His family, however, do not. They see the son who picked up the pieces and kept a broken people going. They see the brother who had to live for everyone else but himself. They see the uncle who struggled to keep the family alive. They see the cousin who had to keep thinking ten steps ahead just to keep his people alive.

And then there is Bilbo. Bilbo who saw everything that Thorin never could. Bilbo who saw someone honest and genuinely kind, someone who had been hurt by the world and so desperately wanted to punch back for a change that he decided to go up against a dragon. Bilbo who saw someone who so desperately loved his family that he would fight anyone and anything that threatened them. Bilbo who saw someone who wasn’t a king, but who was just Thorin – a dwarf who, as it seemed to Thorin himself, had nothing left in the world to lose.

The important part? Bilbo loved him, loved that dwarf that Thorin couldn’t see in himself. Even as Thorin seemed to lose himself, Bilbo didn’t give up on him. When even Thorin’s cousins and nephews didn’t speak up against him or try to stop him, Bilbo did, because he knew that the Thorin he fell in love with would hate himself for what he was doing.

Thorin is that person who was only kept going by the needs of others – if he didn’t have any family left, if his sisters and nephews and cousins were all dead, he would probably have given up. He didn’t live for himself, he didn’t think of his own wants and needs. It was always about others.

The way I’ve read Sansûkh, Thorin is slowly learning to love himself, and to live for himself as well as for others. He listens to his family. He lets himself be his mother’s little stormcloud, he lets himself be his father’s son. He lets himself be a big brother and an uncle. He relaxes more. And once he learns that Bilbo loves him, he starts to look for whatever it was that drew the hobbit to him in the first place. And he ends up learning to love himself a little more, because Bilbo does. There has to be something, right?

Thorin is and forever will be my favourite character in the Tolkien Legendarium. For his deeds, as well as for his personality. I love the pompous noble Thorin in the book, and I love the withdrawn and anxious and mentally ill Thorin in the movies. And I absolutely adore the mix of all this that appears in Sansûkh.

And just to add something. No, Gimli did not “get over” his issues. He learned, and is still learning. He is working on it, he is working on everything. And he has help to do so, help that he was willing to accept. The difference between Gimli and Thorin is that Thorin had to process everything alone before he was ready to actually accept that help. Gimli is what Thorin is not – open, more willing to change. Ever heard the saying that you can’t teach old dogs new tricks? Thorin is that old dog, and he is still having difficulties understanding and learning, whereas Gimli is the pup who is more open to trying something new.

thank you, tehri. you put this better than i ever could have dreamed.

wow, can you be any more neurotypical. Lo and behold, I have been blessed by the presence of the Thorin-Is-Scum anon once again, this time poorly disguised as another ‘Guest’. I am lowkey impressed at your dedication – did you really wade through nearly 400K just to tell me how much you despise and hate people with depression and MI, and how unworthy they are of anyone’s esteem or admiration? How tiresome you find their struggles? 

Go away. You are unwelcome in any part of my life, and that includes FFN. GO. AWAY.

(for those who cannot read the very small pic, transcript under the cut. Though I honestly wouldn’t bother. I’m only posting it here bc I am angry and need to yell at them to FUCK THE FUCK OFF, and I can’t do that on FFN.)

[Yo, I’m sorry but I’m really not buying whatever you think you’re doing with Thorin’s character here. His speech to Dain is pretty much “I suck and am more bad than good but slightly maybe more good?” which, to me, still says nothing. It’s been 37 chapters. This character has barely changed. And this is supposed to be Thorin as “better?” he best he can be is not as fucked up, while you have so many good, PURE characters? Gimli, who got over his issues (which weren’t even that bad) in like 3 chapters.

And the more you highlight this, the more I don’t get how Thorin functioned with anyone else before. How did his family stand him? Why did anyone even follow him to begin with? You’re telling me these things but I don’t see any reasons why. Thorin said it himself, his only good trait was “courage”. But so what? Every character here is. Why did anyone care about him before he died, if he’s still super flawed now? I know families can love members just because of blood, Boromir loves his dad even though Denethor was a bad father, but just because they love them doesn’t mean the person is deserving of it.
What did Thorin do for his family, or anyone who followed him? Why does Bilbo even love him? It just doesn’t make sense to me when you have one character who is more flawed than everyone else. If he’s supposed to be only “better” because he died, what was there to like when he was alive? There hasn’t been a single talk he’s had with anyone “close” that wasn’t just a compliment after a string of flaws. It just looks like everyone has to pick up after him, and there’s nothing selling me, the reader, on why I should think he deserves it. “Just because” is not an adequate answer. Quite honestly, as tiresome as it is to read chapters of a character constantly self-flagellating, in his case I can see why. He’s saying objective fact. I don’t see where he’s being too harsh on himself. It would be much better without marinating in a character’s shitty flaws for 40 chapters.]

14 + Sansukh? :)

14: is there anything I wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Ahhh, thank you! 

uhhh, idk honestly. I set out to write as canon-compliant a fix-it as possible, but ended up throwing that idea away very early on. So I guess that initially I wanted to cram a lot of lesser-known canon stuff into it, for people to read and go OH HEY THAT’S P COOL. 

I also wanted to try my hand at writing the process of the management (MANAGEMENT, not “recovery” – but not indulgence or enabling, either) of mental illness. Thorin’s development closely mirrors my own in places. It’s not something I’ve ever been confident talking about, so it was a big step outside the comfort-zone. IDK if I wanted anyone to learn anything from it, but I certainly wanted to show it. Maybe work through a few of my own bugbears while I was at it.

As the diversity of the cast grew and grew (AND GREW), I also became really invested in establishing a society that had all types and sorts of people in it, nobody hiding or silent, all of them living with respect and understanding for each other. Don’t know how well I have succeeded, but i think the point was to try. I’ve had people tell me that the fic is the first place they have seen a particular representation, and I am proud and humbled simultaneously. 

Regardless of whether anyone learns anything or not, I have always wanted to tell an entertaining story with relatable characters, so yeah… I am always up for the educational side of things, but it really isn’t the impetus behind the fic.

I know this is a dark question but… Who had the most traumatic arrival to the halls? Hrera or Fris? Thror or Thrain? Fili or Kili? Or even Thorin or Dain? I know this is such a dark question to ask but I’m curious!

ohgod, um. I do have an answer to this, but yeah. It is dark.

This will be expounded upon in the fic itself to some degree later on, but if you want to be spoiled it’s under the cut. And it’s not very nice, sorry.

It was Thrain. Easily.

For most Dwarves who awake in the Halls, they have a moment or two of adjustment, of taking-stock. We see that in close detail in both chapter one of Sansukh, and in Endurance. In both cases, Thorin and later Dain have a period of grace in which they process what is around them before they return to their more recent memories. I rationalise this as Mahal trying to ease them into their new circumstances as best he can.

There’s also the circumstances in which each Dwarf died. Hrera and Fris were TERRIFIED, but they knew their end was upon them the minute Smaug trapped them and cut off their escape. Thorin had basically accepted his death as inevitable, as had Dain. Fili died trying to protect his brother, Kili died trying to avenge his: I can’t see either of them being conflicted about those choices. 

Thror would feel guilty about his death, of course (as does Balin). Khazad-dum ever tempts their pride, and they were so foolish, so blind… but it is done now. Many of Balins’ Dwarves who tried to retake Moria were still caught up in their last fight, actually, but they soon settle. The calm stasis of the Halls is in fact there for a reason: it actually helps them heal.

(Oin had a fairly stupendously horrific entry into the Halls, actually. He still has sweating-nightmares of the flash of teeth, the stink of something wet and rotten, the snap of his own bones…)

But Thrain, though. Thrain was tortured by SAURON for nine years. Sauron the Deceiver, the Lord of Nightmares, the master of phantoms, the Shadow himself. Remember, “his dominion was torment.”

Thrain had no idea of knowing what was real, and what was not. Thrain had been living in induced hallucinations, over and over and over, insensate at times, violent at others, drifting in and out of the horror-scape Sauron created to try and coax his secrets out of him. He has seen his family a million times, only to discover that they are nothing but cruel visions, a taunt, a torture. Thrain does not trust safety. He does not trust his own Maker.

So, when Thrain arrives in the Halls, to him it is another hallucination. Mahal’s presence is a lie, a profane and obscene lie! To him, it is only Sauron once again wearing the guise and voice of Thrain’s own Maker, because there is nothing he holds sacred, nothing of his that Sauron cannot strip from him.

His family is a taunt, an insult. He does not believe it. He cannot believe it. He attacks them, and then retreats into corners, and cries and cries. 

He stares at anything but his family. He will not answer when they speak to him. He shivers, because he is always cold. He was never warm, never. He lashes out and then he scurries back to cram himself into his corner again, trying make himself as small as possible, eyes white and wide and wild.

It takes an entire week for them to coax him out of the sepulchre-room he wakes in. 

Fris stays with him constantly for the first few years. The first months utterly break her heart, and she weeps bitterly in private when he cannot see. Thrain will not look at her or answer her, he will not take anything from her hand. 

But Fris is a Dwarf and she perseveres. His parents spend time sitting with him too. One day, he lets Hrera comb his hair. It feels like a bigger victory than anything else has ever been.

Slowly, fearfully, he begins to believe. Fris sing to him, all her old bawdy and silly songs, and she nearly breaks down when he begins to mumble along. He spends time with Mahal, grounding himself in that presence and that love. The slow, stable, cool healing of the Halls works its magic on him, over time. He devotes himself to caring after his family; his children, his beautiful Fris, his parents, his cousins. He starts crafting difficult, meticulous pieces in order to keep his focus on the here-and-now. 

He still lapses at times.

He has to leave the pool of Gimlin-zaram if he is triggered, because his PTSD and panic attacks are just so extreme. He can hyperventilate or cry silently, he can turn violent, or dissociate to the point of complete nonverbal shutdown.

Those are not good days. Those are the Bad Days. 

And THAT is why Custard is Thrain’s service animal. 

Having so many feels about Thorin reconnecting with his fam. You’ve already fixed about him and Frerin reconnecting. But also … Thorin and Fris playing together. Thorin and Thrain making things. Thorin going to dinner with his dad’s parents one night and his mum’s the next. Just Thorin slooooowly getting reacquainted with his family and acknowledging that he is cared for, he is loved, no matter how flawed and broken he is. <3

Yeah, I went pretty all-in with Thorin and Frerin rebuilding their relationship in Twelve Months and Fifty Years, I guess! It’s easier to trace that progression, as it is brought into very sharp focus in that fic.

Still, peppered throughout the whole of the Behemoth itself are moments in which Thorin reconnects with Thrain and with Fris. It’s not fast, and it’s not always nice, but it certainly happens! 

You got me thinking about this progression again, Nonnie! I’ve had my thinking cap on all day, ever since I got your message. I can remember baking my brain about this very topic when I first began the story a gigazillion years ago. I quite deliberately set Thorin’s family relationships as a foil to the more dramatic events of the quest and the much more fiery development of the Gigolas (and the eventual Bagginshield) relationships in the fic. Thorin’s relationship with his family isn’t like that. It’s not dramatic: it’s steady. It’s slow, and quiet and everyday and mundane and ever-present. Fris and Thrain’s support (and Hrera’s and Thror’s, for that matter) is there from the start, of course, but the knowledge of each other, and the trust and the depth and the love, is so powerful now. What we see in that first scene in Chapter 1 is the first rush. It just grows and grows and grows.

It’s Fris waking Thorin because she knows it is important to him (tools do not belong in sleeping quarters inudoy, and oh, when did you grow so tall), and it’s Thrain listening to him speak about Bilbo (so that was the one, then?), not judging or commenting, just accepting. It’s Thrain suggesting and then insisting that Thorin bring the rest of their people on board to watch the Fellowship (we’re here, use us!), and it’s Fris braiding Thorin’s hair, while telling to stop blaming himself for things he could not possibly be at fault for (Gandalf was the one to recruit Bilbo Baggins, not you!).

It’s Hrera’s dumpling soup, and her comforting brand of loving bossiness in the middle of the night, telling him stories of her own youth. It’s Thror giving Thorin his own work-room as a meeting-place, giving up his own space for Thorin’s needs. It’s Vili joking with Thorin about which of the boys is a better swimmer, and which is a better climber. It’s all those breakfast scenes in the Halls, all of them existing together and sharing food and time and gentle teasing. 

Where we’ve currently paused, at Chapter 39, Thorin has actually learned to lean on them. A LOT. He relies on his mother enormously, she is basically handling all the information for him. Thorin returns time and again to Thrain’s calm acceptance. There’s a reason why Thorin went to Thrain as well as Thror when he wanted to talk about the dragon-sickness. It’s no mistake that Frerin stays in Thrain’s rooms to decompress and recover, after he reached his melting-point at the battle of the Pelennor Fields. There’s a reason why Thorin trusts Thror to keep an eye on Erebor while he stays with the Fellowship and with Gimli. There’s a reason why Hrera keeps watch over the pool in the Chamber, seated in a chair with a rug over her knees, ready to pass on any messages. 

Thorin has now actually reached the point where he can give it back. He’s SO secure in their love now, and he can comfortably show his own in return. It’s taken him a long time to feel that way: he’s been generally pretty awful to himself, on the whole. But now he can see that he is loved, and that he is worthy of that love, and so he is becoming better at expressing his own care. He gently needles Fris when she is overworking (a trait they have in common) and he is constantly aware and watching for anything that may trigger Thrain, ready to leap into action. 

Like I said, it’s not a dramatic relationship arc. None of the relationships in the Halls are – that’s quite deliberate! Not only are they contending with the enormous inertia of the Halls, but also against Thorin’s own guilt and anger and self-recrimination… not to mention their own painful issues (looking at you, Thror). Dwarves are stubborn as heck, after all. But it’s there. It’s quiet and subtle, but believe me, it’s there!

(and yeah – I’ve spoken before a bit about Fris’ folks, Ais and Folgar, and they’re around! But as they’re not the focus of the Behemoth and Ricky might actually kill me if I extend the character list any more I might have to one day write a little side-fic detailing their exploits in reconnecting with Frerin, and later Thorin!)

Yk maybe mentally ill people are tired of seeing fandom portray them in the type of men who remind them of abusers. Just a thought.

dungeonsandyubi:

Yk maybe mentally ill people are tired of seeing people like you look at good, accurate portrayals of mental illness and brand them as abusers. Maybe they’re tired of people like you thinking their symptoms mean they’re abusive. Maybe they’re tired of believing they’re a burden, a “fuckup”, a “douchebag”, a “patient”, and all the other lovely words you’ve used.

Maybe they’re tired of being hidden away in dark corners because people like you think so lowly of mental illness. Maybe they’re tired of being ashamed to talk about how they feel in case someone like you calls them a “fuckup” or an “abuser”.

Maybe the only person here with a problem is you, anon. Maybe the person being abusive here is you, anon. Just a thought.

I’ve said all I need to say on this matter, now. I’ve explained in depth Thorin’s mental state, I’ve explained my take on Bagginshield. I’ve had to defend things I never thought I’ve had to defend, because I assumed most people had basically decency in their hearts

You’ve been exposed, anon, as a disgusting example of ableist nonsense.

You’ve lost. Beyond Thorin, beyond Bagginshield, beyond fandom, you’ve lost. You’ve shown your true, horrible colours. You’ve come across as a monster. You should be ashamed.

Give up. Go away.

I have no time for abusive, ableist creatures like you.

Gamve Over.

You lost.

I am so fucking angry right now. Sophie, you are a stellar human, and have responded to this vile little toad with grace and patience. I have to add my own fucking 2 cents, because this whole steaming mass of bullshit has cut me very close to the bone.

I write Thorin as a person living with mental illness. You know why?

Because I do. Because my father does. My little sister. My best friend. My uncle had schizophrenia, as it was then called. My grandfather had PTSD. There are so many more members of my family, so many more of my friends, who also live with mental illness. We’re fucking everywhere.

Anon, stop talking for people with mental illness. STOP IT. STOP. IT.

You do not speak for me. Or them. We can speak FOR OURSELVES. I don’t remember voting for you as spokesasshole for the mentally ill. 

I am a good singer, and a decent dancer, and I bake fabulous cakes and pies, and I am a good mum. I am tidy, I am a great organiser, I am a good teacher. I hate glace cherries, I love liquorice, I make my own pasta and shortcrust pastry. The fact that I cannot always deal with shit – or that I sometimes deal in a way that isn’t ‘nice’ – has never mattered to my husband. He loves me. I love him. We do not need to be the same in every respect in order to love each other. I am perceptive and cautious and loyal and retiring. He is discerning and analytical and confident and funny. I make risotto. He makes sushi. I vacuum. He mows the lawn. I wash the towels and bedsheets. He does the ironing. I empty the kitty litter. He takes out the bins. We have been together for a hell of a long time. Sometimes I carry him. Sometimes he carries me. Sometimes we prop each other up.

WTF, anon – how can you say that illness is the measure of a whole person, let alone of a relationship? Because I have depression and my husband does not, to you we are unequal? That he is my minder? That I am abusing him? You are insulting and infantilising me, you arrogant monster. And fuck you very much, you jerk. I am 33, I have lived a hell of a life already, and I am no infant. My husband is my partner in all things. There is no decision we do not make mutually. And you know something? He has always said that I have sacrificed waaaaay too much of my own life to facilitate his. I support him wholeheartedly, in everything, with everything that I am. And he does the same for me.

Do I not have the right to express my story in a way that I see fit, using characters I love, in a world that has captivated me since I was 8? Or is that only for NT folks, and not for the likes of dirty, ‘broken’ lil me?

Am I not permitted to see similarities between my illness and Thorin’s character – AND Bilbo’s, to be perfectly frank – and to explore that? To say, ‘yes, I am never going to be “ all better, all fixed now!!!” – and that’s okay, I am loved and I am enough.’ That when I withdraw or can’t cope or hide (or worse), it doesn’t mean that the good things that I am, the good things that I have done and still do and still may achieve, are suddenly wiped away? 

Fuck you, anon. 

My own little sister is one of the most compassionate and gentle and wise and good people in this whole entire world. In the past she has mutilated her face and has tried to throw herself out of the window. She travelled India and Nepal by herself, volunteering in orphanages as a childminder, despite her chronic pain. My dad is ridiculously creative and passionate and clever and full of life and ridiculous snort-worthy jokes, and he is also generous. beyond. belief. Not kidding. I mean it: my Dad will give you the shirt off his back. He would shower you in tiny puppies if he thought it would make you happy. I have lost count of the times he has said, ‘so what can I do to help?’

He also has angry rants in which he verbally attacks the people he loves, and is too ashamed to even speak afterwards. But he always ALWAYS takes responsibility for them, and for the damage his words can do. 

I love my dad. Love my dad. My dad is a wonderful, amazing, incredible dad. I would never, EVER wish for another. He is not. Fucking. Abusive. He is my darlin’ ole dad, and he is doing the very best he can. On all days; on every day. He is a flawed and perfect and wonderful human. Sound in any way familiar?

Do these very real flesh-and-blood-and-bone people not deserve love? Are they nothing but ‘patients’?

My uncle introduced me to Lord of the Rings. I was 8. I called him ‘Uncle Puss’ and he used to read it to me and tell me what the long words meant, and encouraged me when I expressed a thought aloud. He was kind, and quiet, and shy, and sweet. His intelligence was literally OFF THE FUCKING CHARTS. He encouraged me in everything, he supported me when I had no sense of self-worth and would literally let myself be walked all over if it made things ‘easier’. He recognised when I was being bullied before anybody else did. He comforted and bolstered me when I thought that I wasn’t allowed to be smart, because I thought it made me a bigger target. His illness made him lethargic and withdrawn, and his medications for a time made him physically violent. Did that make him a terrible person? Did it make this tall, awkward, skinny, sweet, shy, brilliant man a leech? An ABUSER?

Fuck you, anon. 

Many people thought the same way as this asshole anon. Thanks in part to their influence, my brilliant, gentle Uncle Puss has been missing for 15 years. He was legally presumed dead two years ago. 

My grandfather fought in Papua New Guinea in WWII. He came home. He raised three children – it would have been four, but my youngest uncle died when he was only 9. My grandfather never spoke about what he’d seen, or done. The medals went into the cupboard, and my grandfather made things grow. He planted trees all over Australia: taught people to care for them. Whole magnificent avenues of trees still stand, taller than buildings, and I can point to them and say ‘my Poppy did that.’ He called me silly pet names, he would dismantle the whole sun-room to build blanket forts for us that never collapsed, and taught me how to garden. He fed the whole street with the vegetables from his garden. He would distance himself, he would hide, and he would snap and snarl: he would accuse us of snooping when we went climbing and playing in the shed. He was a WIZARD at Uno. He was so strong. He was so amazing. He developed bowel cancer and took his own life on the 29th of February, so that we could only mark that one day every four years. I miss him so much.

I loved them. They deserved love. I deserve love. 

Anon, your goddamned awful views hurt real living people like these. You simplify them. You reduce them – and me – to a couple of hurtful, spiteful, vicious words. 

This anon seems to think that we ‘fuckups’ are rare. That we are somehow aberrant. That the love we have to give, the people we are, are not worth the time and affection of any neurotypical person. That we bring nothing good to a relationship. 

That we do not deserve to see ourselves in the fan-media that 

we 

ourselves 

create. 

That we are nothing but ‘draining leeches’. Nothing but ‘fuckups’. Unworthy.

This anon acts as though we can’t speak for ourselves, and then tells us that we are ‘fetishising’ our illness when we do.

God, I haven’t even touched on the matter of being instructed as to which characters are ‘acceptable’ for me, as a person with MI, to identify with. The absolutely breath-taking arrogance of that. The sheer level of autocratic, imperious obliviousness.

Despite all this rantage and evidence and soul-baring, I don’t think I have articulated the ways in which I am angry about this poisonous and STUPID viewpoint, and the fact that this jerk anon is using me and people like me as mouthless and voiceless ‘validation’ to bolster their very obvious bigotry. 

But I think it can be concluded in three short words: Fuck. You. Anon.

Don’t ever hesitate. Reblog this. TUMBLR RULE. When you see it, REBLOG IT.

The original post only has US helplines. I’ve added UK helplines underneath. It would be great if people could add numbers from everywhere in the world.

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673
Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Child Abuse: 1-800-422-4453
UK Helplines:

Samaritans (for any problem): 08457909090 e-mail jo@samaritans.org

Childline (for anyone under 18 with any problem): 08001111

Mind infoline (mental health information): 0300 123 3393 e-mail: info@mind.org.uk

Mind legal advice (for people who need mental-health related legal advice): 0300 466 6463 legal@mind.org.uk

b-eat eating disorder support: 0845 634 14 14 (only open Mon-Fri 10.30am-8.30pm and Saturday 1pm-4.30pm) e-mail: help@b-eat.co.uk

b-eat youthline (for under 25’s with eating disorders): 08456347650 (open Mon-Fri 4.30pm – 8.30pm, Saturday 1pm-4.30pm)

Cruse Bereavement Care: 08444779400 e-mail: helpline@cruse.org.uk

Frank (information and advice on drugs): 0800776600

Drinkline: 0800 9178282

Rape Crisis England & Wales: 0808 802 9999 1(open 2 – 2.30pm 7 – 9.30pm) e-mail info@rapecrisis.org.uk

Rape Crisis Scotland: 08088 01 03 02 every day, 6pm to midnight

India Self Harm Hotline: 00 08001006614

India Suicide Helpline: 022-27546669

Kids Help Phone (Canada): 1-800-668-6868, Free and available 24/7

Good2Talk (Canada): 1-866-925-5454, For post-secondary students, free and anonmyous

suicide hotlines;

Argentina: 54-0223-493-0430

Australia: 13-11-14

Austria: 01-713-3374

Barbados: 429-9999

Belgium: 106

Botswana: 391-1270

Brazil: 21-233-9191
China: 852-2382-0000

(Hong Kong: 2389-2222)

Costa Rica: 606-253-5439

Croatia: 01-4833-888

Cyprus: 357-77-77-72-67

Czech Republic: 222-580-697, 476-701-908

Denmark: 70-201-201

Egypt: 762-1602

Estonia: 6-558-088

Finland: 040-5032199

France: 01-45-39-4000

Germany: 0800-181-0721

Greece: 1018

Guatemala: 502-234-1239

Holland: 0900-0767

Honduras: 504-237-3623

Hungary: 06-80-820-111

Iceland: 44-0-8457-90-90-90
Israel: 09-8892333

Italy: 06-705-4444

Japan: 3-5286-9090

Latvia: 6722-2922, 2772-2292

Malaysia: 03-756-8144

(Singapore: 1-800-221-4444)

Malta: 179

Mexico: 525-510-2550

Netherlands: 0900-0767

New Zealand: 4-473-9739

New Guinea: 675-326-0011

Nicaragua: 505-268-6171

Norway: 47-815-33-300

Philippines: 02-896-9191

Poland: 52-70-000

Portugal: 239-72-10-10

Russia: 8-20-222-82-10

Spain: 91-459-00-50

South Africa: 0861-322-322

South Korea: 2-715-8600

Sweden: 031-711-2400

Switzerland: 143

Taiwan: 0800-788-995

Thailand: 02-249-9977

Trinidad and Tobago: 868-645-2800

Ukraine: 0487-327715

Post and Ante-natal Depression Association PANDA – Australia: 1300 726 306

National Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Helpline (Australia): 1800 200 526

Sane Australia (helpline for people with mental illness) Australia: 1800 18 7263

Kids Helpline (Australia) – confidential telephone and online counselling for young people aged 5-25: 1800 55 1800 http://www.kidshelp.com.au

Lifeline (Australia) – crisis support, suicide prevention and mental health support: 13 11 14

Sexual Assault Helpline (Australia): 1800 010 120

Are there any dwarves who are not aware of their dark names? Or have difficulty accepting them? I have been working with my therapist recently on developing a sense of identity and self-value and thinking, “man, I wish I had a dark name.” Sorry to get so personal, but I find Sansukh so relevant to my own life!

Ah, Nonnie. *hugs* Good on you for getting the help you need. You’re awesome.

All dwarves are aware of their dark-names from a very young age, I think.

Absolutely, I think there would definitely be some Dwarves who have a hard time accepting theirs. For some, it could be mental illness, or a lack of certainty or self-confidence in their identity. Perhaps some of them are intimidated by that promise. Maybe some of them simply don’t like it. And for other Dwarves, that lack of acceptance could be due to their circumstances.

For instance, Thror’s dark-name is Umùhud-zaharâl. It means ‘Builder of Glory’. And it must have felt utterly impossible to live up to when he was young. He’d lost everything – his parents, his brother, his home. The young King of a houseless people, once more wandering the world looking for a place.

And then he did build glory. He re-took Erebor, and it was magnificent, a palace and a home that lived on in song. He would have felt like he was fulfilling his purpose at last. Providing for his people in peace and plenty, ensuring their protection and wealth from the smallest child to the eldest greybeard. Building glory, to live on after he had returned to stone.

And then. It was lost. Again.

His dark-name would have felt like a mockery. A cruel taunt. I think it certainly contributed to the overwhelming anger and guilt that led him into the catastrophe at Azanulbizar.

Anyway. Look after yourself, Nonnie. You don’t need a special name to tell you that you’re awesomely brave.