#legit if I stop taking my anxiety meds I start getting physically ill

[thisismycorneroftheinternet]

How the fuck am I supposed to get better by having a "support system" if I can't handle being around or close to people and have mental breakdowns about people getting too up in my business and cut them off every so often? Like, it's not just a question of "just stop that" or "get over" myself, or even "just finding the right people," like, legit my anxiety builds up overtime when people attempt to approach and befriend me until I start lashing out or have a full on breakdown, and cut everyone off, because I can't handle it, I hate people trying to butt into my life, I hate acting crazy to people and worrying them, I hate people getting all nosy and bossy and irritating, I absolutely loathe people pitying or feeling bad for me, and I feel absolutely creeped out by even the thought that people may take an interest in me, mainly in the romantic or sexual manner, to the point that I feel physically ill from people flirting. I just wish I could be normal and handle things better, I'm almost 30 and can count in one hand the amount of actual friends I have, and even with them I can't ever tell much about myself because the last thing I want is to have to push them away when I feel like they're too much in my stadium-wide personal boundaries I inevitably and irrefutably have. I just can't do this anymore, it's miserable, but I can't do anything about it, and nothing helps, therapy isn't helping, and I'm already in anxiety meds and they can barely hold my anxiety back.

#mental health #ugh #personal rant

[cuntess-carmilla]

Update: I stopped taking psychiatric medication because they turned out to have only ever been of “help” because I have POTS/dysautonomia and one made my blood pressure rise (Wellbutrin) while the other kept it from going up too high (Lamotrigine).

Now that I’m taking meds that are for what I ACTUALLY do have (POTS/dysautonomia) not only do I not need the psychiatric meds, but they were throwing off everything else. I hate psychiatry so much. Can’t believe I turned out to be one of those people who had their physical illness mistreated as You’re Crazy for years haha. :) With that out of the way...

Some Many of my Opinions™ on psychiatry, as a psychiatrized person myself who does take medication, but hates the institutions of psychiatry and psychology, and thinks a large chunk of it is white pseudo-science:

A good amount of the issues that the psychiatric institution addresses ARE absolutely real and, as a society, people who’re afflicted by them should by all means receive help and support so they can live happier lives. I experience many of them and take medication to help myself, I obviously don’t think the difficult experiences people seek help for are made up.

At the same time, psychiatry and psychology as disciplines ARE made up (like every other discipline), making them not infallible or objective, AND they were built on eugenics, patriarchy, white supremacy and capitalist exploitation.

Those very real issues addressed by psychology/psychiatry aren’t actual literal pathologies. They don’t need to be literal tangible sicknesses in order to matter or be deserving of help and compassion. Your literal brain as a bodily organ is not physically “ill”, at least in most cases. It doesn’t need to be for your problems associated with an “ill mind” to be real and to matter. Remember, these disciplines were created at a time in history in which (white, male) doctors and theorists were obsessed with turning everything into a material, scientifically tangible subject that could be objectively measured with numbers and shit, hopefully medicalized or otherwise turned into “hard science”. That’s where ethnography came from. It’s called positivism, which is extremely dehumanizing, white supremacist and capitalist.

Psychology should be largely considered as much more of a metaphysical or philosophical discipline than as objective science, which is how most people perceive it to be. It’s mostly pure theory about emotions, thoughts, cognition, relationships and subjective experiences + perceptions -- which isn’t necessarily a bad thing on itself. It not being hard science doesn’t immediately delegitimize it. Get rid of the white capitalist idea that only (western, white) science and “objectivity” are real or of value. Actually, holding psychology to the standards of hard science turns it into pseudo-science, so... Yeah. I genuinely think we’d get so much further As A Society™ regarding psychology's potential to aid people who’re suffering if we treated it as more of a metaphysical or philosophical discipline than as some objective scientific truth.

Psychiatrists often are super ignorant of the actual way the medications they prescribe work or affect patients lmao. I had that almost ruin a whole semester at college because a shrink prescribed me meds that in combination she should’ve known would fuck me up. Not that much is known about how the human brain truly works compared to other human organs, you can’t expect psychiatric meds to be well tried and true. The research on psychiatric pharmacy is very lacking + biased in favor of pathologizing and controlling psychiatrized people, besides attempting to make the most profit under capitalism like any other capitalist industry, so of course they’re gonna prescribe you shit. Plus, like doctors of every other field, many psychiatrists arrogantly disregard the experiences, requests, questions and ideas of their patients, who’re the ones taking those meds.

Psychologists/therapists, just like psychiatrists, also disregard the experiences, requests, questions and ideas of their patients.

There’s such a strong element of power imbalance in how psychiatry and psychology function. The more a patient knows formal information about anything related to psychology/psychiatry, the more the shrink can get upset, distrustful and dismissive of them, saying they’re faking it, or telling them “not to do their jobs” when they so often do said jobs like shit anyway lmao no matter how thorough the research and understanding of the patient is.

Psychological and psychiatric diagnoses are just as made up as any other human construct (such as language, race, gender, etc). They’re not tangible realities as if shrinks had ran into a previously unknown objective fact of nature. In the realm of psychology, someone takes a bunch of traits and behaviors that by their observation they consider to be interconnected with one another, put them in the same bag, stick a label to said bag, and ask other psychologists if they agree with the bag being a thing. These considerations are heavily influenced by sociocultural bias. You can’t tell me it isn’t true that they’re made up and very subjective when “diagnoses” such as drapetomania, hysteria, homosexuality, gender identity disorder, etc, have been seriously considered at least by part of the psychiatric establishment of their times as legitimate mental disorders. Hell, some still consider being gay or trans to be mental disorders. Don’t get me started on "Oppositional Defiant Disorder”, that shit’s just evil.

A lot of the ideas spread by the psychiatric-psychological institution are legit pseudo-science that researches try time and time again to prove and end up coming with nothing, or they end up tweaking their own research or conclusions to maintain the established consensus that just so turns out to be very convenient to the people who make and sell psychiatric meds.

Many of the traits, emotions, thoughts, perceptions and behaviors that are pathologized by psychiatry and psychology aren’t inherently harmful. If they don’t make the patient or others suffer by their very nature (as opposed to like, homophobic parents “suffering” because their child is gay or a gay person suffering because of homophobia) then there’s no need to alter them. “Correcting” them is a measure of social control that crushes individuality and only attempts to mold people into obedient ~productive~ servants of capitalism. Much of psychiatric medical treatment (not just the diagnoses and therapies themselves) focuses on turning the patient into less of a social “burden”, than on their actual happiness. That’s why you have ADHD and autistic kids being given meds that turn them into zombies and that's been considered a good thing for DECADES. Like, why does the stimming of an autistic person or an “unusual” attachment to stuffed animals as an autistic adult have to be corrected? WHOMST does that harm? Nobody! But it makes allistics uncomfortable because allistics are fucking stupid and can’t mind their God damned business to save their lives like normal people do.

Even non-pharmaceutical treatments for psychiatrized conditions are or can be turned into measures of social control. 

Maybe CBT wasn’t meant to be a tool to control people and shit, but it can be misused as such SO easily! It can go from being therapy to help individuals process inner pain and redirect harmful behaviors in positive ways, to being turned into training someone to react, feel and process abuse and oppression in ways that are convenient to the status quo. 

Don’t get me fucking started on ABA as an inherently oppressive, abusive “treatment” for a psychiatrized condition that does nothing to actually better the lives of autistic people, instead punishing autistic traits, teaching autistic people to painfully repress said traits and ignore their needs, and seeking to appease allistics by prioritizing their convenience and subjective comfort.

Behaviors, emotions, perceptions or traits that on a man or white person would be considered a non-issue or given much more compassionate/less stigmatized diagnoses, are pathologized or given much more stigmatized diagnoses when it comes to female or racialized patients, which reaffirms psychiatry and psychology as subjective tools of social control.

While many of the traits, emotions, perceptions and behaviors of what are considered personality disorders are painful, harmful and real (and thus should be helped, with consent, not hammered down), literal personalities aren’t “ill”. They’re personalities. Pathologizing or medicalizing a fucking personality on itself is ridiculous. It is possible to address those problematic traits/behaviors/etc without saying that a fucking personality is “ill”. So much for “you’re not your disorder”.

What shrinks will deem as hallucinations or delusions can be subjective, and it definitely can be deemed as such out of white-centric cultural bias. Plenty of non-white cultures have considered different perceptions of reality as valid and worthy of respect for centuries, at times related to their sense of spirituality. Not to mention how psychiatry has deemed the real anxieties of oppressed people that they’re being followed, spied on, plotted against and all that, as hallucinations or delusions in order to discredit them.

Many patients are given medication to try to alleviate traits/behaviors/emotions that come from circumstance (poverty, ongoing abuse, trauma, oppression...) instead of addressing the root problems. While I 100% understand using medication as a palliative measure because, bitch, you can’t always fix those problems and you still have a life to live (the same way I take clotiazepam when the insensitivity of the allistics around me causes me sensory overload), this puts the burden of the person’s situation on their own body, as if their body was the essential source of a suffering that comes from outside forces they’re not responsible or in control of. This should ideally be addressed through material change in realities that can be individual (removing the person from an abusive situation, giving economic aid, giving proper treatment to an untreated chronic illness) or social (abolishing white supremacy, the patriarchy, capitalism, etc).

So many times when palliative medical treatments for suffering that comes from circumstances don’t work (BECAUSE THE PATIENT IS STILL TRAPPED IN SAID CIRCUMSTANCES, HELLO?) it’s blamed on a supposed defect of the patient’s body/brain rather than, like... You can give me as many anti-depressants as you want but I’m still gonna be miserable if I’m being abused or suffering from unending physical chronic pain lol. And then, instead of at least having the decency of recognizing the real source of the problem if your shrink can’t realistically fix it, they keep trying more and more different meds on you like you’re a fucking lab rat, keeping on blaming a made up defect you were “born” with. Imagine what that does to a person’s self-image! At least when I loathe my body for the chronic pain, chronic fatigue and more that my chronic illnesses give me, it IS actually true that it’s my body that has a defect that can’t be cured. Why convince a person in suffering due to anything, but especially when it’s due to outside conditions out of their control and your job is fucking supposed to be to help them be happier, that their pain refuses to respond to treatment because their BRAIN is so terribly defective? I don’t wish the hatred I hold for my objectively shitty body on anyone, and causing that to someone when it’s not even true...? Incredible.

Lots of genuine difficulties associated with psychiatric diagnoses are much better helped through accessibility and material considerations, or at least through teaching the patient pragmatic methods to better deal with those, than through pills. But guess what solution shrinks usually give you. Hint: it’s easier for them and they can charge you for it monthly.

Society™ medicalized emotions, bro... WE MEDICALIZED FEELINGS!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!

#antipsych

[prettyboiiharringrove]

#2) Also would like to request some Steve coping with Billy’s complicated pregnancy (Dont know if I would like legit concerning complications or over-reacting to minor complications)

( alpha/beta/ omega masterlist )

So, I did my best on this one. I did some light research for this shit so if I got anything wrong I apologize but here’s Billy being all comforting and fluffy because Steve is really scared. Also they’re going to have a daughter this time because I’m just picturing Steve with his little princess and it’s great. I just love my soft boiis. 

💘 💘💘 

Steve isn’t handling it well, which is funny because Billy’s the one that temporarily lost his vision and was puking violently, as ifhe’d had three foot-longs with everything on them and a hangover and decided togo on the fucking tilt-a-whirl.

He was the one that was on blood pressure medication,corticosteroids, and anticonvulsant meds. Steve was just the one who had towatch him suffer through it. Maybe that was worse. Billy’s slightlypanicked, but he has increased doctor visits, medications, and physicalsymptoms to concern (distract) himself with while all Steve has is having tosit by the sidelines while Billy suffers, and maybe prayer.

Dustin had tried to diagnose him with ‘demonic possession’before he went to the doctor, the little shit.

“I looked it up, they’re not even sure bed-rest is a goodthing.” His words are meant to comfort Steve, but all it does is cause his leg’sfrantic, anxious bouncing to somehow increase in speed.

“Well I was looking into it —” Steve starts off frantically,and Billy wonders if Steve talking quickly is his anxiety, or an attempt atgetting his point across before Billy can shut him down. If the latter was thecase, it’s a failed attempt.

“Steve, for the thousandth time, step away from the babyblogs, you’re being ridiculous,” Billy has to move in front of him and shut thelaptop for Steve to actually fucking listen to him. He didn’t even look guilty,just worried. “Come to the couch and sit down.”

“Billy, seriously, just let me —”

“Now.”

Steve knows not to argue when Billy uses that tone. Hestands up from his desk, drags his feet, and then plops down on the couch withthe most defeated look on his face. Billy settles in his lap and Steve at leastcalms down a little at that. Billy knows that some days that’s what Stevedesperately craves, is to hold Billy and know that he’s safe in his arms. It’sbeen happening a lot more since he’d gotten ill, because Steve feltmiserable when he couldn’t do anything to help but rub Billy’s back and try notto panic or cry as the doctor spoke.

“You okay?” Billy sighs, using his index finger to tilt upSteve’s chin, making him look at him instead of letting him nervously fixate onthe bump. “She’s not going anywhere,” he whispers with a teasing yet gentlesmile and then kisses Steve’s nose.

“No, I know,” Steve chews at his lip and Billy knows he hasto fight the urge to look. He takes Steve’s hand and moves it to where theirbaby’s kicking. She always gets restless when her papa’s upset, like she cansense it; she probably can, through Billy, considering it unsettles him sodeeply. “I should be the one asking about you.”

“Everyone asks about me. No one ever even notices ifsomething’s up with you these days,” it’s true, and it pisses Billy off to no end.Sure, he’s pregnant, but that doesn’t mean Steve suddenly stopped existing.

All the people that claim to care about him have beenseriously lacking when it comes to giving Steve the attention and care hedeserves. Sure he’s all about protecting and looking after his omega and theirunborn baby, sure he wants everyoneto give Billy all the attention and tend to him, but that should give everyonemore of a reason to fucking notice Steve.

He’s so fragile; the second he met Billy his heart no longerlived within him but existed as an entirely different person, and that problem,that fragility only increased tenfoldwhen he found out Billy was pregnant, and then after the hospital visit, wellhe’s been a very expensive vase teetering on the edge of a counter just waitingto fall and shatter ever since.

Preeclampsia — manageable but dangerous if you’re notcareful, and Steve’s new official least favorite word; he misses the days of ‘moist’and ‘cunt’, would take back the cringe factor any day if it meant he’d neverhad to hear that word.

“I’m fine,” it’s both a lie and an answer Billy refuses toaccept. He leans in to press a soft kiss to Steve’s lips before looking at himwith big blue eyes; a deep ocean of concern that makes Steve’s heart ache.

“You wanna try the truth now?” to anyone else it would soundlike Billy was angry with him for lying, but Steve knows it hurts Billy to seehim struggling and hurting. He takes a deep breath, refusing to cause Billy anymore trouble.

“I hate this. Feels like any second you’re gonna slipthrough my fingers and I’m gonna lose you both,” he admits, moving to rest hishead on Billy’s shoulder, inhaling the comforting mix of their lavender laundrydetergent and Billy’s ocean breeze; there’d been a hint of sweetness to hisscent recently, and Steve assumes that it’s from the baby.

He thinks it’s the universe’s attempt at comedy, makingtheir kid smell like ice cream since they mated when heworked at fucking Scoops Ahoy.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head, whispers gentle comfortsfor a while, just repeating “I’m okay, we’reokay,” and then he’s trying to coax him into looking back up at those oceaneyes. Any other day, Steve would be happy to swim in them, but he doesn’t wantto pull away from the warm comfort of his scent and the small patch of bareskin that he’s pressing his lips to. “Please look at me,” Billy finally pleads.

Steve takes a shaky breath and then obliges; he’s rewardedwith a loving smile. That helps too, seeing Billy smile instead of looking soill and weak like he had just last week.

“Tell me what you need.”

Steve takes a long moment to think it over, wraps his arms aroundBilly and pulls him as close as he can. Billy moves easily, curls upand rests his head under Steve’s chin. He’s practically shielded from the restof the world, and once he’s situated, some of the tension seems to leave Steve.He’s still a little uncomfortable, probably will be until their daughter’sborn, but moments like this will settle the anxious cramping in his stomach fora while.

“This, just need you to stay like this,” the ‘if that’s okay’goes unspoken, because Steve’s used to Billy shushing him when he tries to dismisshis own needs, and Steve doesn’t have it in him to make a half-assed offer forBilly to deny him.

“As long as you need baby. We’re not going anywhere.”

#biancatorres1 #harringrove #harringrove au #alpha steve harrington #omega billy hargrove #alpha/beta/omega #billy hargrove/steve harrington #billy/steve #harringrove drabble #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet

[savofid]

I'm completely burnt out at this point. Just... I dunno.

For context, I've got some pretty bad anxiety issues brought on by a combination of working for the government and being in a relationship with a legit psychopath. I went from an incredibly controlled and structured work environment to a somehow even more controlled home life. She would lie and manipulate both me and my friends to maintain control over me. I eventually did end the relationship, but the damage was done and can't be undone.

As for the burnout... I was at work on Saturday, a day where a very important inspector happened to be visiting. We knew in advance, which probably didn't help me at all. We did well, which is nice, but he didn't show up until the afternoon. Considering I got there at 9 in the morning, I had all that time to just let my anxiety fester and grow.

When my anxiety manifests itself, it does do in one of two primary ways. I either become physically ill or incredibly aggressive. Saturday happened to be an aggressive day, so I kept my mouth shut and talked to no one. Every little thing that one particular coworker did would set me off, and I had to keep that all bottled up. The sheer level of her incompetence is unparalleled in any place I've ever worked, and I once had a boss that couldn't do basic math.

Now, I thought that, outside of that day, especially having the next day off, I'd recover and be fine. Turns out that having what was effectively a low intensity anxiety attack for ~6 hours does a lot to wear you down, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, as well.

When I got back to work on Monday, I was relatively okay. I didn't really sleep the night before, maybe getting two hours, but, other than that, I was fine... Until 3 PM, when one of the girls I work with showed up. For the record, I have an incredibly powerful sense of smell, to the point where I can tell when one of my coworkers is having her period even before I've seen her. I can just smell the change from across the restaurant. Smell also has a profound effect on me, which I suppose makes sense given the context.

She must've changed her shampoo or perfume or something, maybe deodorant, I don't know, but whatever she did made her smell exactly like my first ex. I had to actively stay away from her because it would just send me through an emotional rollercoaster each time I got a whiff of it. This eventually caused me to break even more.

Thoughts were filling my head; thoughts of self-harm and self-destruction, an intense desire to drink, a want for isolation, and just an overwhelming desire to collapse onto the floor and weep. I gave in to none of those (although I did have a single beer before bed so as to quiet that stupid, nagging voice in my head that refused to shut up even after 8 hours). I honestly think I should have at least allowed myself to cry. I think it would've been cathartic.

All this being said, it's been almost 6 days since then and I only feel marginally better. I just want to be okay again, and I don't even know where to start. How do I even stop that? How can I possibly stop myself from smelling something that'll flood me with overwhelming emotions and bring me crashing down all over again? I don't have an answer that doesn't involve the destruction of my olfactory nerves, because part of me feels like even that won't stop it.

Should I go into therapy? Probably, yeah. Do I want to? Absolutely. Can I afford to? Not at all. I can't even afford to replace my car right now, which is its own source of anxiety. I know I've got friends that would happily talk to me about what I'm going through, but I feel like they won't understand it completely, that some part of it will get lost on them without me having to go into a lengthy amount of context as to how all of this is affecting me. I could do it here, sure, but no one reads this or is going to read this, so what's the point? I'll give some context, though, just in case someone does end up stumbling across it at some point:

My first ex was also my first partner. As the saying goes, "You'll always remember your first," and, boy howdy, is that true. She was patient with me and genuinely did love me. She taught me much of what I know now about sex, and I, somehow, taught her a few things, too. However, she repeatedly cheated on me. We were only together for 6 months and she managed to cheat on me 7 times. Now, the critical thinkers might assume this caused some abandonment issues or worries about trust and all that. You'd be incorrect. The stem of the issue that I have today is from me, not her.

After we had broken up, she would still try to talk to me and get me to come back to her house to have sex. I'd refuse every time cause I didn't want anything to do with her anymore. However, one day, I was at work and she texted me. That particular day was following a rather painful dental operation that resulted in me being prescribed painkillers. I won't get into the side effects they had on me, but let's say one made me much more willing to take her up on her offer.

I texted my parents and told them that I was going to be late getting home due to one girl being late. This wasn't an unusual occurrence on its own, so they bought it. Instead, I went over to my ex's house. I didn't even change out of my work clothes, was still mostly dressed, and we ended up having sex. I ended up finishing much quicker than anticipated, most likely due to the meds, and I immediately began getting ready to go.

She lay there, naked on the floor, looking innocent and sweet like she felt I was coming back to her in that moment. I looked at her and said, "Do you wanna know why I finished so quickly?"

She perked up, eager to hear the answer. "Why's that?" She was clearly expecting me to tell her something about how I missed her, but I shattered her in that moment with a single sentence.

"Because I don't fucking love you anymore." I walked out of her room, waved goodbye to her dad, got in my car, and left into the night. She never tried to talk to me ever again after that. The closest reaction I had to her was her mom apologizing on behalf of her daughter's behavior while the two of us were together. A year after we broke up. It was... Awkward, to say the least.

I still beat myself up about that, about how I broke her heart. To this day, I still haven't forgiven myself, even if it was what was needed to have been said to get her to leave me alone. I didn't need to be so mean about it. There were other ways to achieve the same result, and I chose the nuclear option. That's why, when I smell that same smell, it hits so goddamned hard. It doesn't remind me of her, it reminds me of what I did to her.

And now, here I am, 11 years later, still paying the emotional price for that. The look in her eyes as I said that still haunts me to this day; the look of someone completely broken in the most vulnerable position one could be in.

People tell me I'm nice. I'm not. I'm a terrible person and should be treated as such.

[musesofthetower]

I wanted to share this because this is massively important, especially to me. So things I want to add.

1) Anxiety disorder is a DISEASE. It can’t be cured, it doesn’t go away, and it sucks worse than anything you can imagine.

2) just because it’s a disease doesn’t mean it’s always bleak. Like chronic depression or other mental illness, there are lucid periods where things are okay and periods where everything falls apart.

3) It can represent like the above picture states but there are also so many more ways it can present. (to name a few more: obsessive thoughts, manic changes in mood, explainable bouts of crying or sobbing, rapid heart rate, the illusion or feeling of pain when there is none, etc)

4) as out of control you may feel witnessing it. Those of us that experience it, have no idea what’s happening either. (example: recently having a normal conversation with my dad, i suddenly had and anxiety attack. I still have no idea why. I started sobbing and couldn’t stop for a solid ten minutes. It scared him it scared me. there was no reason I can think of it should have happened it just did and it is terrifying.)

5) I know when this kind of stuff happens people want to comfort others but that’s not always the right answer. sometimes it is, sometimes it just makes things worse. this was the hardest for my mom to learn. When I’m having a panic attack i usually dont want physical contact. Not everyone is the same and it changes instant to instant.

So why do i want to put this out here? Because people don’t talk about anxiety enough. It’s not easy to diagnose nor is it easy to treat. It takes a lot and it doesn’t always work. I have periods that are what I would call good; this doesn’t mean I don’t have symptoms but I cope better than bad periods. Then I have bad periods where it feels like a combination of some kind of spinning roller coaster i can’t control and a crushing weight. Sometimes during these I legit shit down, rationally I can tell myself i need to get up I need to do something anything to try and get out of it but I feel near catatonic, everything feels dull and i just watch days go past making very minor decisions and not doing anything. It happens when I’m on meds or off, when I go to therapy when I don’t. it’s unpredictable and that’s the scariest part of it

#anxiety #anxiety disorder #psa

[tiredbiplantlady]

i don’t want to take meds - i hate anti-depressants and they’ve never done anything for me except weight gain and horrific withdrawal experiences. idk what else to do at this point. I don’t want anti-depressants. I love my therapist but he comes at everythng from a spiritual standpoint because I invited it initially (I know he isn’t open about that stuff with just anybody) and it’s like, “I don’t have a disorder all I need to do is recognize that everything is me, i am every disorder and everyone has every symptom of every disorder in them at some point and We Are All One and every person has every good thing and every bad thing in them~~ and if I just realize this and stop fighting it and telling myself im fucked up then I’ll magically get better because perception is all it takes”. 

Like I do believe that perception matters A LOT but the process to changing your perception when its something you’ve had your whole life isn’t EASY. At this point I feel like I talk to him because I want validation and care from him, but the last few sessions have been like “what are you doing to help me?” because a lot of it is just “change your perception” and me feeling like he’s getting bored of me because I was doing so well on this “spiritual high” and now I’m back where I started and he’s disappointed, baffled and annoyed I can’t just stop self-criticizing and hating. I’m fucking sorry I’m not good enough. 

He doesn’t acknowledge the things that happen to me as psychological disturbances that might need treatment, he’s basically like “so what if you had a manic episode? that’s just a word society puts on a supernatural experience that’s actually a gift you should appreciate, stop talking about yourself as ‘mentally ill’ because you’re not, you’re just in tune with the universe more than other people which is a blessing and curse”. Like it’s nice to hear and when it comes to spiritual beliefs, I believe lots of the same things as him, but it BOTHERS me that no attempt has been made to address this. Me having what was CLEARLY hypomania at the least if not being manic and now CLEARLY having a depressive episode is evidence something needs to be done. Like, he acts like the only reason people are depressed or schizophrenic or something is because of spiritual misalignments, like people turn schizophrenic because they fail to integrate themselves and have supernatural powers and have Kundalini awakenings that “turn them mad” because they don’t know how to cope with it. He acts like being depressed and self-loathing is a failure to meditate hard enough build up your heart chakra and that taking meds closes your third eye or something. Like he legitimately talks about these things and I’m all about spiritual stuff, but taken to this level like???? He was acting like “I thought you cleared a blockage in your soul when you were ‘manic’ but i guess i was wrong, guess you didn’t become more enlightened” and it hurt. 

He has helped me so much and I appreciate him but I feel like I have one foot in this world of spiritual insanity where nothing is real and maybe my “mental illness” really is within my control and I’ve just convinced myself it’s not and I need to meditate more and do all these weird things and keep not taking meds...and the other foot planted in the scientific reality most people around me in my field live in. At times I feel crazy because the things he says don’t line up with the things that I’m taught and I wonder if I’m just wrong about everything. Why can’t both things be true? Why can’t I believe I’m mentally ill and need help from psychiatric drugs without it meaning that “defining myself as mentally ill is setting a limitation that I will only use as an excuse to hold myself back”. There are times I legit wonder if he has some schizotypal stuff going on because he has randomly started talking to me about aliens and stuff and he genuinely believes all the things he says, that or he’s truly deeply sadistically fucking with me, which I don’t believe at all is the case. 

I legitimately think it’s possible I’m bipolar and need treatment, and the only way I’m going to get any acknowledgement about it is if I talk to a psychiatrist which I don’t want to do because it’s scary to me. I’m afraid they’ll force me to take something, tell me I can’t get my anxiety meds if I won’t take anti-depressants and hold me hostage like that between choices, or institutionalize me. I’m afraid of bipolar medications like lithium because over time they cause physical tremors, which you then have to take medications for, like you end up taking meds to help with the side effects of your other meds and I hate putting shit in my body like that. i don’t judge people for doing what they feel is best, but personally i don’t like the idea of putting medications that effect my brain in my body especially when no one tells you the whole story - it’s just like the BDSM thing. You only get anti or pro perspectives and never have anyone straight up with you about it, psychiatrists just act like meds are Great!!! and Never Hurt You~~ or ever Fuck Up Your Life and Brain Function :) there are side effects, but who cares about those on this understudied, pimped out drug??? lol ur fine, just TAKE IT. I don’t like that and I want someone to just be real with me, like this might help your mood, but it’s likely that X will happen and it’s up to you what you want to do. 

I want to be hypomanic again. Everything was good then and I felt invincible and perfect and powerful. Now I feel like shit. Why can’t I get the hypomania and get rid of the depression. Idk I guess I did some dumb shit at the time tho and fucked a lot of stuff up without a second thought because I didn’t even care, I just felt so good and certain and just KNEW things without people having to say them. 

#meandmine #mental illness// #ranting/ #im really uncomfortable posting this stuff esp. the strike thru bc i don't want anybody to get in trouble or whatever but fuck i just need #to rant...///