[original author's notes] Hello friends. Welcome to my therapy!
No, seriously. This entire story is basically me trying to work through some shit.
If you’ve read my other stuff, you’re probably peripherally aware that I have social anxiety. I’m lucky, and it’s moderate rather than severe, but it’s something that permeates everything I do.
This is a prologue to set the scene. I wouldn’t be surprised if MCU Peter actually has social anxiety, by the way. His stuttering and nervousness could be coming from a mild case. But, I assume that his anxiety is like mine (so moderate) in this fic.
This story will follow Peter as he sort of finds his way into a place where he learns to cope with his anxiety, depression, and PTSD.
To anyone reading this who may have one of the above disorders: I have firsthand experience with both anxiety and depression, but NOT with PTSD. I have done as much research as I can on what it’s like, and I’ve seen it secondhand in one of my friends, but I’ll never be able to truly understand. If I misrepresent something important, please let me know so I can change it.
I’m not going to lie to you. This story is going to get a little intense. Peter is going to hit rock bottom before he gets better. If mentions of untreated mental illness, panic attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts/actions, and PTSD are going to trigger you, please don’t read this.
Okay, guys. I’m done being super intense and stuff. I know I made this sound super dark, but this is a story about recovery. And, since it’s me we’re talking about, there’s definitely going to be some Peter&Tony being adorable.
Whenever things get dark, there is always a light. Peter is going to discover that. I hope that everyone reading this remembers that, too.
Love yourself, and stay safe.
WARNINGS: mentions of panic attacks, a child in distress, and untreated mental illness