#psych abuse tw

[trans-axolotl]

content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

#personal #suicide tw #suicide mention tw #psych abuse tw #psych ward tw #ok to reblog if u want #psych abolition #mad liberation #psych survivor #it's a lot of grief hours over here and will be for a while all week i think #lots of grief so many ways this year for so many people #but this week. his memory . my grief for him #is hitting especially hard. i think partially because of all the transitions in my life. i'm graduating college. he will never become an ad #adult. #i think i might ask my roommates if they will go do something to remember him with me. maybe making origami cranes and sending them off in #the river. or writing things down and burning them #idk. grief is hard #six years in grief is different. but hard

[schizophrenicnatsuo]

Being a psych survivor is just a constant parade of people refusing to respect you, refusing to see your abuse as real, claiming your abuse is unimportant because talking about it might make some people not want to take meds or whatever, prioritizing (presumably) sane doctors' feelings over your safety, telling you that you're not really mentally ill or that you don't really understand how bad mental illness can be, justifying violence against you, and attacking you if you do so much as point out the reality that psychiatric abuse exists

#psych abuse tw #psych abolition #psych survivor #mad pride #us tag

[coyotegirl-domestic-terrorism]

as a psych patient, i have really mixed feelings on psychiatry, to be quite honest.

its confusing because like the psychiatric industry is used to drug and abuse people who don't conform to social norms and the dsm is bullshit but that doesnt mean mental health conditions just dont exist either. like just because tons of people who oppose traditional ideas get labeled "depressed" or "schizophrenic" to drug them into conformity doesnt mean that my experiences with psychosis arent distressing and abnormal, or that my trauma responses arent maladaptive. I'm on anxiety meds at the moment and they actually have helped with my severe anxiety that makes it literally impossible to do anything (although the side effects are really bad so im probably gonna get off them soon)

and then there are psych wards. i have been voluntarily admitted to a mental hospital before, and it sure as hell won't be my last time being admitted.

i am fundamentally opposed to forcing people to recover or be admitted to programs and facilities against their will. at the end of the day i am pro-recovery, but like if you want to engage in a dangerous/self destructive behavior and dont want to recover i mean okay i guess? its your body i dont have a control over it, regardless of the fact i think its not good. a lot of the problem with psych facilities, especially inpatient ones, is that due to the whole not having basic rights thing the nurses can quite literally do whatever the fuck they want. psych nurses literally break the law regularly and you cant do shit about it.

i went to the best inpatient facility in my state, and i watched a severely traumatized 13 year old boy be beaten up and restrained on multiple occasions, one of said times was because he requested to engage in a coping strategy that helped him and wasnt harmful, and the staff refused, and since the kid had violent outbursts, he, yknow, got violent. oh yeah after assaulting the kid and forcing him into the restraining chair they yelled at him for it too. another patient signed something that said they would have to let him out after 3 days. the staff "lost" the paper because they wanted to keep him longer.

i will say, overall these things were not a constant and the admission was surprisingly helpful (i severely needed a break from reality and it did provide that) but like the fact that i went to literally the best place in my state and psychiatric abuse still went on in there says a lot about the state of psychiatry.

overall, im not like completely anti-psychiatry (just mostly) because it has helped people, including myself, but i am absolutely for abolition/large scale reform.

#anti psych #psych abuse #psych abuse tw #institutional abuse #anti psychiatry #psych ward

[neuroticboyfriend]

not that people who've been to the ward are immune from being pro-psych, but if you've never been to a psych ward*, i sincerely don't want to hear about how psychiatry/psychology is good because you've had such a good experience with X provider, or X medication saved your life. *i also don't want to hear about how the forced treatment was what you needed or how the ward you went to let you have your cellphone etc. etc. i genuinely do not want to hear it.

like. the first hospitalization traumatized me so bad, i became dangerously delusional, was re-hospitalized, and sent to state. when they transferred me, i was strapped down into a gurney at all points on my body, *head and neck included*, and loaded onto an ambulance. my parents lost most of their parental rights; i was a ward of the state and had near zero rights. when i got there, they made me choose if, "if necessary," if i wanted to be wrangled down and forcibly injected with a sedative... or wrangled down and locked in a padded room all by myself (but at least i had a choice, right?). i signed consents and paperwork that i did not fucking understand. then i was told i'd be locked inside for 2 straight weeks (which yes, they followed through with). the psych ward was remote, nothing but barbed fences and trees around us. cant even see the sun through the heavily tinted windows. that was the *start* of the stay. i'm sure you can imagine nothing good came after.

so like. if you walk out of a place like that thinking it was good for you, then i can only imagine how traumatized you are and i hope you heal someday. but if you've never faced the destruction of your autonomy like that and go around being like "oh this is good actually" then shut the ever living fuck up.

#julian rants #this is okay to rb but im mainly venting #psych ward #psych survivor #psych ward tw #abuse tw #sanism #ableism #antipsychiatry #antipsychology #antipsych #psychiatric abuse #psychiatric trauma #trauma #psych abolition #psych hospital #psychiatric hospital #inpatient

[headspace-hotel]

"New (old) perspectives on self-injurious and aggressive biting" published in Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis / Nine Inch Nails- The Hand that Feeds

I was troubled to see a trend of claiming that Autistic people who do not support Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) are a group of "low-support-needs" autistics who are monopolizing the conversation and taking resources away from autistics with higher support needs—I think it is misunderstanding.

Individual positive or negative experiences with ABA are irrelevant here—the fundamental core of the therapy is behaviorism, the idea that an autistic person can be "treated" by rewarding "desirable" behaviors and punishing "undesirable" behaviors, and that an increase in desirable behaviors and decrease in undesirable behaviors constitutes successful treatment

In researching I found that ABA practitioners have published statements condemning conversion therapy. They refer to an unfortunate historical association between ABA and conversion therapy, but it is not association—ABA literally is conversion therapy; the creator of it used it to try to "cure" little boys that were too feminine.

ABA is considered "medically necessary" treatment for autism and the only "proven" treatment, in that it is proven to create decrease in "undesirable" behaviors and increase in "desirable" behaviors.

Undesirable behaviors for an autistic person might include things like stimming and talking about their interests, desirable behaviors might include eye contact, using verbal speech, playing with toys in the "right" way.

The BCBA behavior analyst code of ethics does not prohibit "aversive" methods (e.g. electric shock) to punish undesirable behaviors

The code of ethics only discusses the consent of the "client," not the person receiving the treatment

Many people will say "my child's ABA therapist would never make them repress harmless stims, give up their interests, use electric shocks...They understand the value of neurodiversity and emphasize the consent of the child..."

But consider...if nothing binds or requires an ABA therapist to treat stimming as important, nor restrains them from using abusive techniques, nor requires them to consider the consent of a person being treated, what protects vulnerable people other than luck? The ABA therapist still has an innately unethical level of power over a child being "treated."

Furthermore, consider: can a therapy built on the goal of controlling the behavior of a person who cannot meaningfully consent to it, especially without hard limits or protections on the kinds of behavior that can be coerced or controlled, ever be ethical?

I found many articles that discuss teaching "compliance" in autistic children, treating "compliance" as a reasonable goal to strive for without qualification...

The abstract of the above article struck me with a spark of inspiration. Biting is an undesirable behavior to be controlled, understandably so, since most would feel that violence should not be allowed. But I was suddenly reminded of the song "The Hand that Feeds" by Nine Inch Nails, which is a play on the saying "Don't bite the hand that feeds you," meaning don't lash out against someone that is kind to you.

But doesn't "the hand that feeds you" implicitly have power over you through being able to give or withhold food? In this case, kindness can be a form of coercion. Thus "biting the hand that feeds" is used in the song as a metaphor for autonomy and resisting coercive power. The speaker asks the audience if they have the courage to test the benevolence of their oppressors, or if they will remain compliant and unquestioning even though they know deep down that it isn't right.

Likewise the article blunders into something unintentionally poetic when it recognizes that biting is an innately possible behavior in response to "aversive" stimuli or the "removal of reinforcers." Reinforcers and aversives in ABA are discussed as tools used by the therapist—the presentation of a preferred food would be a reinforcer, for instance (and is often used as such in ABA).

The journal article considers biting as a behavioral problem, even though the possibility that someone may bite can never be eliminated. Contrastingly, "The Hand that Feeds" highlights the coercive power behind the ability to control your behavior, even when that control appears benevolent and positive, and argues that "biting the hand that feeds you" is not only a possibility but a moral imperative.

Consider: In what circumstances would you bite someone? To defend your own body? To defend your life? Are there circumstances in which biting would be the reasonable and the right action to take?

What authority decides which behaviors are desirable or undesirable, and rewards or punishes compliance or resistance? Who is an authority—your therapist? Your teacher? Your caregiver? Any adult? Any person with the power to reward or punish?

In what circumstances might compliance be demanded of you? In what circumstances would it be justifiable not to comply? What authority decides which circumstances are justifiable?

Can you imagine a circumstance where it might be important for a child to not comply with the demands of an adult? For a citizen to not comply with the demands of a government? Which authorities demand compliance in a right and just manner, and which demand compliance to things that are evil and wrong? Which authority has the power to differentiate the two? Should you trust them? Will you bite the hand that feeds you?/Will you stay down on your knees?

#analysis #power #authority #aba #applied behavior analysis #aba tw #abuse tw #nine inch nails #music #psychology #autism #actually autistic #psych critical

[obsidiancreates]

Henry Spencer Is A Bastard (With A Broken Nose)

Shawn and Jules have been living together for two weeks when Jules storms into the precinct, grabs Lassiter by the arm, and drags him into the interrogation room.

“O’Hara, what the hell is-”

“You’ve spent time alone with Henry,” she says, sitting Lassiter in the suspect chair. “What was he like?”

“What?”

“This is important, Carlton.”

Lassiter sighs, looking around the room for a moment before answering. “Unpleasant and judgemental. He had every quality of a great cop but none of an actual person I’d spend time with.”

“Which for you is saying something,” Jules mumbles, looking to the side. “Would-would you say you think he’s capable of intentional child endangerment or neglect?”

Lassiter sits up more. “What? O’Hara, what is this about?”

Jules takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “I was helping Shawn get some stuff from his old room, and we found an old journal from when he was a kid.It was mostly just doodles and half-finished homework, and he said to just throw it away, but… I kept it. I thought it was cute, to be able to look at what went through his brain as a kid.”

“O’Hara. If you’re alleging what I think-”

“I read more later while he was out with Gus and one of the pages was a failed writing assignment. He was supposed to write about what he did over the weekend and he wrote that his dad locked him a trunk and made him pretend to be kidnapped.”

Lassiter lets out a breath. “Okay. But you and I both know Spencer’s imagination-”

“Carlton, remember the kicked-out tailight? When he got shot?”

“O’Hara, I was with Henry through that whole investigation, and I don’t think I can say that the man I investigated with would purposefully hurt or neglect his son. He was like a machine through the whole thing.”

“There was more, though, Carlton. One of the assignments was to write about how they spent Easter and Shawn’s said he got cut on some glass trying to dig up his eggs. He drew a picture, it-”

She pulls out her phone and hands it to her partner. Lassiter looks at a crude drawing of a small stick figure on it’s hands and knees, overly-large shards on the ground in front of it, and an egg a good few lines below it. There’s a taller stick figure behind the small one, with a wide-open mouth and the words ‘You can do better, Shawn,’ written beside it.

The teacher’s note on the side says that Shawn needs to stop making up stories for assignments about his real life.

Lassiter hands the phone back. “O’Hara…”

Jules sits back in her chair a bit, the tension giving way to a slumped tiredness. “I know they’ve never had an… easy relationship, but Henry has always been so present, ever since we’ve known Shawn. I thought that was a good thing and Shawn’s discomfort was just Shawn being… Shawn.” She looks down at her hand in guilt. “What if I completely missed that he has reason, Carlton?”

Lassiter grabs one of Jules’s hands. “O’Hara, Henry Spencer is a bitter, unlikeable, and overbearing old man- but I really don’t think he’s capable of child abuse.”

Jules holds his hand back and gives it a squeeze. “I just… don’t know how to ask Shawn if these are real. He’s not exactly forthcoming about messy emotions and memories.”

Lassiter nods, and then blinks. “So let’s ask Guster. They’ve been stuck together like flies on a flytrap forever.”

Jules shakes her head. “If Shawn isn’t going to say anything, I really don’t think Gus will.”

“Well, you can either ask Guster if these are real, or you can worry about it forever and never get any answers.” Lassiter knows his partner well enough to know that’s unacceptable to her.

She gives his hand one more squeeze. “I’m just worried. Henry works here. He’s in charge of Shawn.”

“And I’m sure that when we talk to Guster about all this, we’ll learn that Spencer was just exaggerating like he always does.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gus reads the page with wide eyes. “Wait, he was serious about that?”

Lassiter stifles the urge to shout ‘Come on!’ when he hears Jules suck in a breath.

“You mean you knew about this already?”

“I mean, Shawn told me once that he liked Easter at my house way more because there was no ‘manhunt training’, but I thought he just meant something like when his dad would have him stakeout their porch.”

“He what?”

“It, sounds worse than it is. … I think.” Gus looks down at the old notebook again. “I thought. … I mean, Henry was always a little intense. When Shawn and I were boyscouts he used to set up challenges that were impossible to win, and then make us feel bad for not winning.”

“What do you mean, impossible to win?” Lassiter is starting to get concerned now. Shawn’s incessant need to show everyone up has been a pain in his ass for years, and if Henry reinforced that grating attitude and now acts like he tried to quell it-

“Stuff like telling us to go find a rocket in the middle of the woods and then going and grabbing it himself. He used to promise us ice cream if we won, then say he’d eat it himself if we didn’t win next time.” Gus’s face pinches the more he talks about the memories. “Gosh, I haven’t thought about that in years. I guess I didn’t realize how messed up that is until I said it out loud.”

“It’s horrible,” Jules says.

“But not criminal,” Lassiter reminds her. “And as… weird and dangerous as the eggs thing is, that’s not criminal either. … I think.”

“What about the trunk, Carlton?”

“... Yeah, that part’s looking pretty bad.”

Gus shuts the notebook. “We need to talk to Shawn about this. I don’t know if I’m even remembering right, but I know he will.”

“He’d never open up about something like this,” Jules says, gesturing to the notebook and letting her arms drop back to her sides with a flop. “He barely tells me about his childhood at all.”

“Well I was there for most of it, and I need to make sure I didn’t miss some serious abuse going down for our entire lives. Do you know how many times I’ve defended his dad to him, Juliet? … Oh my god, on that same boyscout trip with the rocket, he told me his dad had never said he loved him!”

Lassiter doesn’t need to look at Jules to know she’s probably seething with the rage of the entire underworld- if he believed in such a thing. 

Henry better hope they find out it’s not as bad as it’s seeming.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Shawn gets home, Jules, Lassiter, and Gus are all sitting on the couch looking somber. Well, Jules and Gus look somber. Lassiter looks mildly offput.

“Guys! What’s all this, are we having some kinda surprise party?” Shawn looks around for decorations, but there’s nothing. He looks back with excitement. “Is it a case? A big one?”

“Shawn, sit down, we need to ask you about something.” Jules gestures for him to take a seat on a different chair.

“Uh-oh. That’s not your happy voice.” Shawn sits down and leans forward. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”

Jules takes a deep breath, and pulls out the notebook. Shawn looks at it. “Oh, that? Please don’t tell me that my drawing skills when I was eight are a dealbreaker.”

“Shawn, did Henry…” Jules falters. Shawn’s expression… 

It doesn’t harden, per say. It just… shifts. Becomes a little closed-off.

“Spencer, did Henry actually make you dig through broken glass to find ridiculous holiday candy?” Lassiter says, offering Jules his hand for support. She takes it.

Shawn’s mouth quirks up in the corner, a huff-laugh escaping him. His eyes aren’t as amused, a dark look in them. “What? How-how’d you know about that?”

“Oh my god.” Gus looks sick.

“Guys, seriously, what is this?” Shawn reaches out and snatches the notebook, flipping through it. Fast at first, and then slower. The slight smirk disappears completely, and Jules and Gus know that habit of sticking his tongue over his teeth means Shawn is not in a good emotional space whatsoever as he reads.

He closes the notebook and tosses it onto the coffee table, sitting back into the chair and sniffling. “It’s uh- it’s nothing.”

“Dude, that is not nothing. I thought you were making that stuff up when we were kids!”

“What? Why would I make that up?” That just seems to confuse Shawn.

“Because you were always making things up!”

“Not about my dad! You were like, the one person I could talk about him with! You thought I was lying about everything the whole time?” Now he looks hurt. 

“Not everything, but crazy stuff like him locking you in a trunk in the middle of a hot day and putting broken glass over your eggs, yeah! Oh my go- this makes me look back on everything I know in a completely different light, Shawn!”

“Okay, you can’t actually be this surprised, Gus. I mean, you were at my house all the time, you know how he was. We couldn’t even play hide-and-seek without me getting a lecture about hunting perps the right way.” The bitterness in his voice is familiar to his friends, the way he keeps from meeting their eyes, the arms crossed over his chest and tense body language. It’s not that they’ve never seen him like this. But they’ve never seen him like this and truly understood it. Even Gus.

Gus, who looks increasingly horrified as he thinks back on more and more memories. “When we were really little and you told me your dad would throw you out for reading comics, were you serious?”

Shawn scoffs a little. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Did he actually ban them?”

“... Yeah. That part he did. He said they made cops look bad.”

“Good god, Spencer, you’re talking like everything in your house was about cops twenty-four-seven.”

“Gee, Lassie, I wonder why. You’ve met my dad, right?”

“But you’re talking like he expected you to be a perfect cop from the second you were born.”

Shawn goes silent. He still won’t look at any of them.

“Oh, my god.” Jules reaches out to put a hand on Shawn’s knee. “Shawn, did he expect that?”

“... Look, guys, it’s… it’s done, alright? It is what it is, and… I’ve accepted that, and I’m working on making things work with my dad. I don’t… I don’t need this. Okay? I don’t want to think about it and get all…” He huffs. “Last time I thought a little too hard about all this stuff I ended up on my motorcycle with nowhere to go, and-and I don’t want to do that again, alright?”

“Shawn, this is important. We’re all working with Henry constantly, watching how he treats you, and this changes how some of that looks.”

“How?” Shawn finally looks at Jules, right in the eyes. “How does this change anything? He’s the same person, Jules. He-he’s controlling, and-and expects way too much, and is disappointed in me. That’s not different now just because you know he went overboard with stuff when I was a kid.”

Lassiter lets out a deep breath. He’d really… really been hoping this wouldn’t be the case. “How overboard, Spencer?”

Shawn looks at Lassie, and then clicks his tongue and looks away again. “Not in that way, man. He never hit me or anything.”

“So what did he do?”

“Why is this an interrogation?” Shawn stands up, pulling away from Jules’s outstretched hand. “This is stuff for me, and my dad to hash out, okay? Just me and him.”

“Did your mom know about this stuff?” Gus asks. 

The mention of his mom seems to make Shawn shut down even more. “Now this is really over.” He walks away, and pauses for just one second to turn around and say, “Don’t- don’t go my dad about all this. I don’t want…”

“... Don’t want what, Shawn?” Jules’s voice is soft and careful.

Shawn doesn’t seem to be able to find the end of the thought. He just shakes his head and walks back out the door.

The three sit in silence for a minute. Jules has tears in her eyes. Gus looks almost shellshocked.

Lassiter stands up. “Alright, I’m officially taking lead on this case.” He looks down at his partner. “O’Hara, find out who in the precinct knew Henry well and still works there. We’ll interview anyone who he might’ve talked to his son about, see if we can dig up any leads there.”

“Whoa, Shawn just said he didn’t want his dad finding out we’re asking about all this, and we just learned he’s way worse than we thought,” Gus says, standing up too. “We can’t start poking around the precinct, because in case you forgot Lassie, he works there!”

“Part-time.”

“He’ll know something is up.”

“Please. I think I know how to run a discreet investigation, Guster.”

“Could you hide something like that from Shawn?”

“... Of course.”

“No, you couldn’t, and if you can’t hide it from Shawn it’s a safe bet that you can’t hide it from his dad.”

Jules stands up. “No, Carlton is right. None of us realized how these pieces fit together until we all talked about it with each other, right? If Shawn won’t… can’t, open up to us about it, the next best thing is getting as many witness statements as possible.”

“Why? It just feels like digging things up to dig them up at this point.”

“Because Henry is currently in charge of Spencer’s livelihood, Guster.”

“I know! He’s in charge of part of mine too!”

“Right.” Jules looks up at Lassiter. “And if we can prove to The Chief that Henry has a negative, unreliable bias against Shawn, we can lessen some of that control!”

“As much as I’d hate to see Spencer off the leash again, I’d hate to be helping enable an abuser even more,” Lassiter agrees. 

“Abuser is a strong word.” Gus doesn’t look like he feels that sentence is 100% true. “He wasn’t all bad a lot of the time. I mean, he loosened up on the comic thing when we were older.”

“We know he cares, Gus,” Jules assures. “But, caring doesn’t mean he didn’t do something wrong. Really, really wrong.”

Gus swallows, and then nods. “I know.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They collect a good few statements over the next week.

One statement claims that Shawn would play poker with some of the officers when Henry brought him to the station- why Henry was bringing a seven year old to an active police station and then not keeping an eye on him was something that went unanswered- and that Henry was obviously upset when he discovered this. Another statement corroborated the story, and added that he caught sight of Henry taking all the money Shawn made from the games and shoving it into the police donation box.

One statement was from an elderly file sorter, who claimed that Shawn was sometimes sent down to grab files for his dad and used to complain to her that henry would only buy Shawn cop car toys, and no others. When she’d asked Shawn if he wanted to be a cop when he grew up, Shawn had reportedly said quote, “Something about not getting a choice.” Other statements claimed, when this was brought up, that Shawn seemed very excited by the idea of being a cop when he grew up- until his arrest.

One statement, given by someone Lassiter vaguely remembers being rookies with back in the day, lends more credibility to the recollections of the elderly woman. The statement claimed that when the rookie would go on ride-alongs with Henry or work under him, Henry would almost always complain about Shawn. Everything from Shawn having an interest that didn’t relate to being a cop, to Shawn ‘acting like a child’ when he would have been under twelve according to the timeline, to Shawn ‘not even trying’ during a specific incident where Henry claimed Shawn forged his signature to go on a field trip and quote “hesitated for a second with his pen or something- I remember it was something really minor, and Henry couldn’t stand it. I thought it was weird that he was teaching his son how to forge signatures and then expecting the kid to never use the skill, but it wasn’t really my place to say.”

By the end of the week, Jules is steaming and Shawn hasn’t come around the precinct at all. Gus keeps dropping by, digging up old journals of his own to use as cross-references when possible. Shawn is quiet with Jules at home, like he’s waiting for something big to happen and he’s worried he could trigger it early.

It makes Jules more upset at Henry, because now her boyfriend’s emotional immaturity seems a lot less like a natural childish nature and a lot more like having genuinely never been taught how to handle anything.

No, according to the information she and Lassiter have gathered, it looks like all Henry taught Shawn was that winning is everything, being the best is non-negotiable, and Shawn was born to be a cop and anything that didn’t align with that idea just… shouldn’t be there.

“Wow.” Lassiter tosses the latest statement onto his desk. “And I thought Henry didn’t discipline Spencer enough as a kid. Some of this stuff makes it sound like Spencer grew up in a boot camp.”

“He basically did,” Jules says bitterly, reading over one of Gus’s old notebooks. “Gus wasn’t even looking for evidence of it, and these journals are full of casual, offhand observations that look worse and worse the more we know. Listen to this one. ‘Today Shawn was in a bad mood, and when I asked him why he said his dad stole his mood ring after showing him to turn the box upside-down. I said that’s cheating, and Shawn said it can’t be if his dad said to do it.’ Who the hell steals a mood ring from a kid?”

“You’re getting caught on the small stuff again, O’Hara.”

“I know, I know. I just- now that we know some of the major things, even the small stuff is making me just unbelievably angry.”

“Yeah, it’s rough to read. At least you and I wanted to be cops.”

“Right? No wonder Shawn ended up a psychic detective, how do you just do something else after being raised so specifically like that? And no wonder he-he buys EasyBake Ovens and goofs off all the time, he had it so strict as a kid…”

“Mmmmm… let’s not excuse every antic, O’Hara. A lot fo it is still just him being a jackass.”

“I won’t get into this with you again, Carlton.”

“Good, I don’t want to get into it again either. … Heads up.”

Jules closes the notebook and tucks it into a desk drawer as swiftly and inconspicuously as possible, Lassie doing the same for his file. Henry walks past them, barley sparing a glance as he makes his way somewhere else.

Jules stares daggers at him so intensely that if dropped to the ground covered with enough puncture wounds to imitate Julias Caesar, Lassiter would think it was a mild scene all things considered.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s three weeks since Jules found the notebook when Shawn rolls over in bed, puts his arm around, and mumbles “I have an eidetic memory.”

Jules puts her book down and looks at Shawn with furrowed brows. “What?”

Shawn sighs and sits up properly. “I have an eidetic memory,” he says again, “And… I don’t like looking back, because I remember everything perfectly. Which means I usually remember what I felt perfectly too, and it usually wasn’t great feelings.” He can’t look her in the eyes this time, either, but instead of the tense, protective body language of before, he’s holding a pillow close to his chest and slightly burying his face into it, almost sagging around it.

Jules starts to rub his back. She knows how hard this kind of… difficult emotional discussion, is for him. Now she even knows why- suspects why, really, because not all of it is proven in full, but still she thinks she can cout is as knowing. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“About the memory?”

“Yeah. That sounds… really difficult to deal with, Shawn. Does Gus know?”

“Yeah, he knows. I think other than my dad, and… and you, he’s the only person who knows.”

“Shawn…”

“I just, I just want you to know… that I’m not asking you to drop it for no reason,” Shawn says, “Or-or because I don’t feel like it’s important. I know it is, I do. I just…”

“Don’t want to relive a lot of it,” Jules says softly. “... Shawn, does this mean you remember everything perfectly? All the time?”

“Eh… fifty-fifty. The ADHD gets in the way sometimes.”

“... But when it doesn’t?”

“I just try not to think about a lot of it.” Shawn moves again, to look her in the eyes, He takes a deep breath, and he looks a little pained. This kind of thing is painful for him, he’s so unsure how to navigate it. “I have to keep moving forward, Jules. It’d be so… so easy to just get stuck, forever, in all the stuff stored in my head. And I’m really, really trying to, I mean that. It’s difficult, and I’m not… always great at it, but I’m trying.”

“And you’re worried we’ll set you back?”

“No! No, I… I don’t know.” Shawn lets Jules pull him close to her chest and begin running her hand through his hair. “My dad and I don’t solve stuff, Jules. We just… argue over it. I’m getting tired of it.”

“... I understand.” She kisses the top of his head. “But I don’t like him being in charge of you when you’re a grown man anymore.”

“You think I do? … But it’s making him a lot happier than he’s been in a long time.”

“You should be happy too, Shawn.”

“Hey. Hey, I am happy.” He looks up into her eyes. “Look at me right now. I’m being cradled like a sweet little baby seal by the most beautiful, badass woman in the entire world. Of course I’m happy.”

Jules laughs a little and contorts a bit to kiss him on the mouth. “I’m glad you told me that, Shawn. And I promise, I won’t ask you to relive anything else for me.”

“... But you’re not going to stop investigating my dad, are you?”

“Did you stop with mine?”

“... Fair enough.” Shawn lays his head back down, and soon enough Jules hears soft snoring from him and mumbled phrases in his sleep.

…

An eidetic memory. Perfect recall.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Jules goes over everything they have so far knowing Shawn has a perfect memory, it makes her angry to such a degree that she thinks it might kill her. Not literally, but it feels strong enough.

She has some of Shawn’s old report cards, some statements she got from former teachers via social media contact, and some copies of pages of one of Gus’s old journals laid out in front of her, and she sees a pattern.

Shawn didn’t do good in school. His report cards are less than average, and are packed with notes about how he doesn’t pay attention, doesn’t seem to absorb any information, and doesn’t remember anything he’s taught. The statements from the teachers describe Shawn as hyperactive, passionate about everything but his schoolwork, and having difficulty with staying observant in class.

Gus’s old journals are full of the same, but also the opposite. Shawn didn’t pay attention in school, but sometimes he could pull something the teacher said from his memory word for word without even trying, and then a few entries later Gus would mention Shawn failed a test on that exact subject. Shawn got beat up because he told a bully he memorized the pattern of answers used in the math tests, but his dad told the teacher and let Shawn know he was doing it. And most of all, Gus writes about how freaky his friend’s ability to look at people and figure them out is. How Shawn notices almost everything almost all the time, and usually makes some dramatic conclusion that isn’t right, but he still notices things and Gus can’t figure out how Shawn fingers things out.

Detective training, and an eidetic memory, and psychic visions. Jules is now pretty sure that Shawn covers up some of his deductions using his visions- he’s known enough impossible information that they can’t possibly all be deductions in disguise, but when she thinks back there’s a few times where it’s obvious in hindsight he used his abilities to cover up the fact that he’s an incredible, highly-trained detective.

Maybe she’s jumping to a conclusion, but she finds herself thinking ‘Because Henry made him hate that he can do it so well,’ as she pieces it all together.

Gus’s journals lend a lot of credit to that theory. Shawn is smart, and Gus knows it, but Shawn acts dumb sometimes and Gus doesn’t understand why, and then Gus mentions that it’s weird that Henry kept Shawn up all night before to stakeout their porch and now Shawn is tired during Little League and Henry tells him to get his head in the game because Henry is the coach.

Henry is the coach, Henry is the chaperone on the field trip, Henry is their Scout Master- he’s in charge of every part of Shawn’s life except for school. And Maddie is rarely brought up, even when Gus writes about spending all day or night or even weekend at the Spencer house. Jules hasn’t seen Shawn’s Mom since Yang almost blew her up, and she just figured that Maddie wanted to stay out of Santa Barbara after that, understandably. She’s getting a different feeling about Maddie staying away now. It seems a lack of presence was her main impression in Shawn’s life, or at least, Shawn’s life through the lens of Child Gus.

So it was basically just Henry. And her heart aches for the thought of someone being stuck in a bad marriage, basically raising a kid alone, and that kid being as hyper and curious and chaotic as Shawn. But the ache is smothered in the sense of righteous rage when she reads other entries about things like a girl throwing a ball at Shawn and missing, and an ostrich choking on the ball, and Henry dragging Shawn away. The entry goes on to say that Shawn told Gus that Henry didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t do it, even after then-superior officer Captain Connors came in and tried to vouch for Shawn.

Henry always assumed the worst. Assumes, the worst, still.

Shawn tries so hard, sometimes, with his dad, and Jules is starting to realize that Henry doesn’t put the same effort in. He tries some, she knows it, she’s seen it, but she also sees him constantly berate, put down, and insult Shawn, publicly and privately. 

Suddenly she remembers something from when Shawn went undercover on the dating show, something she’d been too upset over about Shawn being there at all to really take in in the moment.

“I’m sorry, this woman is way too good for my son. If it was me, I’d vote no.”

She doesn’t have Shawn’s memory, so without rewatching the clip she can’t be totally sure those are Henry’s exact words, but she’s certain that it’s the exact sentiment.

First of all, she takes a little offense to that for herself. But secondly and more strongly, she takes offense for Shawn. As she thinks about it she can remember the way Shawn tried to cover up the awkwardness in the clip, the way the girl on the show whispered “Is this a joke?” and the way it absolutely was not. The way Henry said that on TV, to Shawn’s face, with no hint of shame.

“O’Hara.” She looks up to see Lassiter holding a cup of coffee and a bagel for her. She takes them and Lassiter says, “There’s more steam coming out of your ears than there is that cup.”

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I just… I don’t know if I can control myself tomorrow when Henry comes back in. The more I dig into this, the more I want to just- go back in time and pick little Shawn up and take him somewhere better.”

“Well as much as we don’t like it, O’Hara, Spencer is who he is because he was raised the way he was raised.”

“I know. And I like, who Shawn is!”

“Inexplicably.”

“Carlton.”

“Mmm.”

“Anyway… I love Shawn, and who he is, all of him, but I still wish he could’ve been who he is without going through all of this. It’s not okay.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Lassiter sighs. “Look, O’Hara, put the case down for a while. At this point we’ve got enough to at least make The Chief doubt some of Henry’s intentions and judgements when it comes to Spencer and, well, that was the goal.”

“... Yeah. Yes, okay, I will… I will put this down for a few days.” Jules closes up the file and puts it back into her drawer. “Shawn is still less than happy I’m working on this, anyway. He understands why, but I know he wishes he didn’t.” He probably understands a lot of things he wishes he didn’t. Jules has had to grapple with the realization that she actually doesn’t know as much about how Shawn’s mind works as she thought she knew, and that it’s possible she’ll never know a lot of it. There’s more than just psychic visions to the mystery of his mind, and some of those mysteries are locked up with a key cast out of self-resentments and resentments of his dad.

God, she hopes she can keep up a poker face when Henry comes in.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her file is missing from her desk the next day, and so is Lassiter’s. They both know why.

They march over to Henry’s desk just as Gus comes in to collect a check, and all three end up standing over Henry as he openly and unashamedly reads through the Spencer Upbringing Case File. Gus takes a step back when he realizes that’s what’s happening, as does Lassiter.

But not because of Henry.

Jules looks murderous.

Henry purses his mouth in a frown and nods, raising up the file and then closing it and tossing it onto his desk in one smooth movement. “It’s comprehensive,” he says, like he’s grading a paper. “But it’s a bunch of biased bull.”

“Give them back.” Jule’s voice is ice-cold. 

Henry shrugs, moving his head side to side for a second, still frowning, and then says, “Nah.” He takes the files, and drops them in the trash. “I think you owe me an explanation for why the head detective and his partner are investigating the way I raised my son. Why’d Shawn put you up to this?”

“He didn’t.”

Henry scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

Jules slams one hand onto Henry’s desk. The whole bullpen goes quiet.

“I was helping Shawn get something from your house, and I found a notebook,” she says. 

“Oh, so, you found one of Shawn’s little projects where he exaggerated things to make himself look like a victim of the world?”

“I found the writings of a little kid who didn’t seem to realize at the time of writing that being locked in a hot car trunk and digging through broken glass for Easter Eggs wasn’t normal.”

Henry laughs, crossing his arms. “That’s what you have a problem with? It’s called training, detective. You went through it yourself.”

“When I was an adult, by my choice, and I sure as hell never had to dig through glass.”

“You’re really hung up on that.”

“Because it’s genuinely evil!”

Henry’s smug look melts into a scowl. “How dare you.”

“How dare I?! Do you understand how much all of this is still affecting Shawn, even right now?! He can barely talk about all of this!” “Oh, well, he sure seem capable of reminding me of it.”

“Because you did it! You’re the only other person in the entire world who understood what was done to him in the name of training because you did it!”

“Done to h- you’re overreacting, detective!”

“I, agree, what is going on out here?” Chief Vick hurries over to Henry’s desk from her own. “Detectives, there had better be a damn good reason-”

“There is, Chief.” Lassiter reaches into the trashcan and pulls out the files.

“Karen, Detective O’Hara has allowed her romantic entanglement with my son to-”

“Henry was borderline abusive during Shawn’s childhood,” Jules interrupts, facing her Chief. Chief Vick’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open, a disbelieving laugh escaping her even as she accepts the files and flips them open. “You understand what it is you’re alleging, O’Hara, and against who?”

“I do, Chief, and I think our case file speaks for itself.” All eyes are on them now. Jules doesn’t back down. “I’m well aware of my emotional ties to this case, but I assure you I’m not allowing it to cloud my judgment. If I was, I wouldn’t have used the word borderline to describe the conclusions I’ve come to.”

“Karen, this is ridiculous.”

But Chief Vick is focused on the files in her hands. Her eyes flick up to Henry. “Is it?” She looks over to Gus, who’s been watching with the quiet tension of a prey animal waiting to make a run for it. “Mister Guster, can you genuinely testify to the validity and accuracy of the claims in these files?”

“Oh, um, well, most of those are from my own journals.” Gus’s eyes flick between Henry and Jules. “I’d say that’s even more reliable than just plain memory.”

“It certainly is.” Chief Vick turns her eyes back to the file. “Henry, I think after I’m done going through these we’re going to have a chat about some of your current responsibilities and extent of authority over consultants.”

“Oh, come on, Karen!” Henry looks around at the entire precinct staring, and judging. “This is completely unfounded, and-and blown way out of propor-!”

Henry doesn’t finish the sentence because Juliet O’Hara punches him in the nose.

There’s gasps from everyone in the room. Jules’s fist is bloodied. Henry’s nose went CRUNCH! when her fist made contact.For a long moment it’s like the whole room has collectively stopped breathing. 

“I don’t make unfounded accusations, Henry,” Jules breathes. “Especially not when I have been building a case for over a month, and have watched Shawn completely close off whenever I asked him about this.”

Henry holds his nose, looking at Jules with fear that Lassiter and Gus don’t think is nearly intense enough. “Juliet,” Henry pants, blood streaming out from between his fingers. “This is insane.”

“Quiet, Spencer.” Lassiter moves Jules a little farther away. Her fist is still raised. “I won’t tolerate you disrespecting my partner, especially not in the same way you do your son.”

“What?! You can’t believe all this too, Lassiter.”

“You know I’m not Shawn’s biggest fan, but if you think what O’Hara has done over the last month is anything less than the best damn investigation possible then I have to seriously reconsider some of our shared opinions of your son’s work.”

Gus glances at a box of tissues on Henry’s desk- and then subtly moves to knock them on the floor and kicks them away.

“Herny, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the precinct for a few days while this gets handled. O’Hara, I’m going to need to speak with you in my office.”

Jules lowers her fist, and nods. She knows she can’t just punch Henry and get away with it scot-free, and she accepts that.

No-one moves to help Henry. Not a single soul. He grumbles as he makes his way past Gus to grab a different box of tissues.

“It’s like he just sucks the respect out of people,” Henry grumbles. 

CRACK!

No-one is more surprised than Gus when his fist slams into Henry’s jaw. Gus reels away immediately, shrinking and cradling his hand, as Henry goes down.

“Mister Guster!” Chief Vick moves forward to try and catch Henry.

“Uuuuh!” Guss whines, shaking his hand. “I-I mean, you don’t get to say that about Shawn! He asked us not to keep doing this! You gotta stop assuming the worst of him all the time!”

“When he earns it!” Henry barks out, then groans and spits. It’s mostly blood.

“You won’t let him earn it!” Jules is furious again. “How many killers does he have to catch for you to see that your son is an amazing man?!”

“It’s not about catching killers,” Henry says, spitting again. “It’s about growing up.”

“Says the grown man who can’t even tell his son ‘I love you’.”

“He doesn’t say it either.”

“That’s not helping your case, Spencer.” Lassiter has his eyes on Jules and Gus. “And considering I’m the only one on said case who hasn’t taken a shot at you yet, I’d say keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, what do you know.” Henry spits a third time. The Chief looks about ready to punch him herself. “Father-son relationships are complicated, especially when the father wants what’s best for the son and the son just wants to throw everything away and get himself killed!”

“You wanted him to be a cop, Spencer, you didn’t exactly put him on a path to a peaceful and easy life.”

“I put him on the right path, and he never appreciated it, and that is what your case file should say!”

“You know what, Spencer?” Lassiter takes a step closer to the bleeding man. “I’ve put up with a lot of crap from both you and your son over the years, and you two are a lot more similar than you think. But one thing I can say that Shawn has over you is that he doesn’t mean it when he says stupid crap like that.”

“He looks up to you, you ass,” Jules adds. “And he is willing to put aside all of the things you say and do to him to have a good relationship with you. Do you understand how incredible that is? That you don’t even have to work to have him in your life? That he comes to you no matter how many times you tear into him for it?”

“He comes to me because he never listens when he needs to.” Henry’s face is starting to become very purple as the bruises set in. “I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but he needs, my help.”

“Exactly! And he feels like you’re reliable enough to give it to him, and you do! So why do you treat that as though it’s a fault? Do you have any idea what I would have given as a kid, and even now, to be able to just-just go up to my dad and say ‘I need help,’ and have him be there to help me? That means the world!”

“Not to Shawn.” Henry looks pained beyond just the broken nose and possible broken jaw. “The kid is too focused on himself.”

“You don’t know your son at all, then.” Jules turns and walks with The Chief to her office.

Gus shakes his head, grabs the check out of Henry’s paperwork pile, checks that it’s signed, and leaves. 

“Oh, really? It’s up to me to take him to the hospital?” Lassiter looks around and then huffs. “Alright, Spencer. Don’t bleed on my seats, or my dashboard, or anything but yourself.”

“I’m not a bad father,” Henry says, still holding his nose. “I care about my son.”

“Yeah, and somehow Shawn knows that even though you act the way you do.” Lassie buckles Henry in for him so that the nose remains pinched. “But here’s the thing, Spencer. Your son is an arrogant, attention-hogging, impulsive, completely absurd person, and he didn’t just become like that out of a vacuum.”

“Yes he did. I did everything I could. I did everything right as much as possible.”

Lassiter sighs as he gets into the driver’s seat. “You seriously think that? You’d be okay with your grandkid being raised that way?”

“If they had Shawn’s potential, yes.”

“... Dammit.” Lassiter turns to Henry, and punches him in the gut. Henry coughs, and then chokes on his own blood, and then coughs again.

“What the hell?!” Henry gets out between hacks.

“O’Hara would’ve done it. I feel like I owed it to her. … And honestly, Spencer, after compiling that damn case, I’ve been wanting to do it for myself anyway. I already knew you were an overbearing perfectionist with a control issue, but you wishing your son was more like that than he is is even worse.”

“Shawn’s no perfectionist,” Henry wheezes. 

“But he is overbearing with a control issue more often than not. Like I said inside, you two are a lot more similar than you think, and frankly I blame you for the parts of Shawn that go past mild annoyance and into infuriating obstacle.”

“I’d never just hand a collar over to save someone’s ego,” Henry coughs out.

“See, that’s where I wish Shawn wasn’t like you.”

“He’s handed you a collar twice.”

“What? He has not.”

And Henry must be a little delirious from the repeated blows, because Lassiter is pretty sure his next words of “See, this is why Shawn should’ve been head detective,” wouldn’t come out of him otherwise.

Lassiter grips the steering wheel tighter and makes a sharp turn into the hospital parking lot. “Well he’s not, and from the sound of things he never would’ve been anyway.”

“He could’ve been a perfect cop.”

“He’d have been miserable and you know it.”

“He’d be doing things right.”

“You’re hopeless.” Lassiter isn’t any gentler helping Henry out of the car than he was helping him in. “I’m not picking you back up when they’re done with you.”

“I’ll call Shawn.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.” And Shawn will come, and probably be mad on his dad’s behalf, and will definitely be mad at all three of the punchers, because he loves his dad enough to overlook years and years of mistreatment that most people would probably consider ground for cutting contact. “And Spencer? If you ever insult O’Hara’s work again, or say anything that gets her that angry, I will help her cover up your disappearance.”

“You don’t mean that,” Henry scoffs.

“Try me.” Lassiter gets back in his car. “And if I hear from her that you’re still badmouthing your son to his face, I’ll make you disappear myself.”

And then he drives away. 

And Henry walks into the hospital alone.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #blood tw #blood mention #violence #juliet o'hara #carlton lassiter #burton guster #burton gus guster #shawn spencer #henry spencer hate #I hate Henry Spencer #psychfic #fanfic #my attemps at fanfic #abuse mention #child abuse mention #past child abuse mention

[craycraybluejay]

Can anyone please stop encouraging taking away the autonomy and safety of suicidal and other mentally ill people for FIVE MINUTES. DO NOT report vent posts or call the social services or cops on someone venting to you. If you can't handle it, block the tags, don't interact with that person, or if it's a personal thing try pointing them to someone that does want to support them. DO NOT forcefully institutionalize your "friends" out of "concern." After traumatizing them and contributing to getting their rights stripped of them, their blood will be on YOUR hands. Is this guilt trippy? I don't care. Don't be a narc. Watch out for your friends, filter out things you know you personally aren't equipped to deal with, arm yourself against this pervasive idea that institutions are here to "help." And don't fucking white knight for struggling people without being asked. No one likes that, the victim least of all. You are not some hero. You do not "know best and better than them." If you are pro-non consensual "treatment" and siccing dangerous systems onto already vulnerable people, especially if you've done something like that before, get off my blog and I hope the door hits you on the way out.

I am not joking. The moment you decide to stick your nose into someone's life and fuck shit up by bringing in all that horribly dehumanizing dangerous shit is the moment you have that person's blood on your hands. Even if the experience doesn't kill them-- any trauma they sustain because of what you did is in fact your fault. Any friends or opportunities they lose that makes their life worse is your fault. If they become homeless because you got them institutionalized? Your fault. And I hope that guilt makes it hard to sleep for you forever. I hope that whenever you have the audacity to eat your nice safe home cooked food you remember the kind of food that they could barely keep down because of you. I hope when you settle into your soft, blanketed bed-- you remember how they couldn't have even that because of you. I hope when you go out with your friends to a nice mall or park or bar you remember how you stole that freedom from them. All for the crime of being in pain and vulnerable. I hope that on your deathbed all you can think about is the people who you made sure could not be afforded such a peaceful death surrounded by loved ones because you just HAD TO make YOURSELF feel better and be the white knight no one asked for, never once stopping to actually think what that could do to someone. Fuck people with saviour complexes who ruin lives over their petty feelings. And I am so sorry to anyone who has been betrayed and so thoroughly fucked in this way. It is NOT fair, it is NOT okay, and you didn't deserve that. You deserve the softness, safety, and comfort that is afforded to everyone else. And I am sorry that others believe any different.

#anti psych #tw psych ward #tw institutionalisation #white knighting #savior complex #madlib #human rights #psychiatric abuse #tw sui ment #involuntary institutionalization #autonomy #madpunk #pro freedom #freedom for all #none of us are free until all of us are free #advocate for mentally ill people

[wisteriasymphony]

awww ☺️ mother son bonding... so normal and not traumatizing for a seven year old...

#everything has implications!! i love adding in implications!!! RAAAHHHHHH #except the jagged stone reference that's just filler lol #dark miraculous content #tw implied csa #tw implied child abuse #cupid and psyche #emilie salt #miraculous fandom #miraculous lb #miraculous fanart #mlb adrien #adrien agreste #adrien agreste headcanons #miraculous adrien #miraculous ladybug adrien #miraculous lb emilie agreste #mlb emilie agreste #emilie agreste #cw grooming

[compassionatereminders]

i have an eating disorder but im not ready to recover right now. its too much. i know i cant do it on my own but im too scared of getting put in residential treatment and getting abused and broken there, even though my ed isnt that severe, so i have to hide everything. i feel guilty but my ed is comforting and familiar to me

It can take a while to get from knowing what you're supposed to do to feeling ready to actually do it, and that's understandable. I hope you manage to prioritize harm reduction, even if you aren't ready to commit to recovery, and I hope that you'll eventually reach a point where your illness start scaring you more than the recovery process. Because you do deserve to get better ❤️

#chat with kat #eating disorders tw #food issues tw #abuse tw #medical abuse tw #psych ward tw #kat plays games

[shitcomscriptwriter]

Growing up in and out of psychiatric hospitals and offices really ruins your sense of self.

There was very little I could hide. Every bit of me was picked apart and scrutinised, used as a teaching tool for eager students with no regard for my own feelings or opinions.

I have very few genuine emotions now, because of how many realities were constructed for me and how they presented me like I was their newest accomplishment. No part of my brain was my own.

I am a psychological cyborg.

It feels like they took my humanity and all natural reactions, but I know they didn’t. There is still a human in here, and she is screaming.

#not cr #vent #psych ward survivor #psych critical #anti psych #psychiatric abuse #tw dehumanising language #traumaposting #medical ptsd #medical trauma #robotkin #humanity #tw abuse #mad pride

[eclipse15]

TW: VENT ABOUT PSYCH ESTABLISHMENT TRAUMA

Me: Yeah I first developed an eating disorder at 5 and I still have remnants and relapses to this day

Psych nurses: LMFAO that’s so funny it’s like you completely let yourself go-from anorexic to obese (I was never anorexic)

Me: please help me im hearing a voice that’s not real and he’s telling me to kill myself. I think when I get home I’ll find the knives and medicine and double kill myself

Psych nurses: your hour of isolation isn’t over yet go back or we’ll lock you into the padded room

Me: Can I have underwear? I think I might get a yeast infection

Psych hospital: no we don’t feel like it

Me: I feel great! I’d rate my mood a ten! No, an eleven! I see the man and he’s always telling me to hurt myself but it won’t work because im actually a god! Yes, I can feel the demons I’ve sent to hell grabbing onto me through the floor but I worn die because im unable to! I could do anything, kill anyone!

Psych doctor: well you sound fine *sends me home*

And so much more :/

#🧩 #did alter #endos dni #tw psych ward #psych critical #psych trauma #psych abuse #pro psychology anti psych establishment #psych ward trauma #medical trauma #medical neglect #medical abuse

[trans-axolotl]

here's to the imperfect crazy person. the crazy person who trashes their room in the psych ward. the crazy person who yells and talks to themself on the street. the "terrible patient" who is noncompliant with medication. the mad people who use drugs, criminalized or otherwise. the crazy people who don't want to get better, who don't want to stop doing high risk behaviors, who don't want their voices to go away, who reject diagnoses, who refuse treatment, who dare to define our lives in a way that's different than a medicalized institution wants us to pathologize ourselves. here's to the imperfect mad people surviving psychiatric abuse and incarceration every single day. nothing that we do--no matter how odd or unsafe--ever justifies the mistreatment that we face when we get locked up. resisting treatment, daring to defy dehumanization, and all the other million ways we hold onto survival, are never actions that can excuse psych wards from trying to take all of our autonomy and personhood away.

here's to all of us imperfect crazy people. i love us so much and we deserve so much better and we are allowed to demand it without being forced to prove that we were one of the "good" patients first.

#personal #antipsych #mad pride #madness #psych survivor #psych ward tw #psych abuse tw #ask to tag #antipsychiatry #ok to reblog #prison abolition

[turnallthemirrors]

they handcuffed me, put me in the back of a police car, and drove me to a hospital 2 hours away in the middle of the night without discussing it with me or any of my loved ones and I was too scared and sedated to protest but please, keep making the exact same joke about tumblr being an asylum, you're really funny and I hope you get a million notes forever

#sydposting #tw psych ward #tw psychiatric abuse #tw medical trauma #tw hospitalization

[shattered-yet-whole]

WIP - I was gonna write an AU psych ward fanfic but then i just started writing my psych ward trauma. Antipsych. This happened a while ago, I'm okay now (and I'm not grateful it happened).

tw - suicidal ideation, descriptions of suicide rehearsal, psychiatric abuse, trauma

--------

“Why are you here?”

I look at the psychiatrist’s tie blankly. He’s dressed in a suit, a clipboard and pen in hand. I haven’t even gotten my clothes back, I have to wear a hospital gown and pants four sizes too large, and am not allowed footwear other than grippy socks. The only thing I have left that's mine is my chipped glittery nail polish. I've picked it halfway off over the past day despite desperately trying not to. But this guy is walking around in shiny Oxfords and a suit.

I don’t look at his face. I know he’s looking at me, expecting an answer. Something I’m learning here is that they wait for you to speak. Even if you take a long time. They don’t try to speak for you. Sometimes I wish they would. It would be easier to say what they wanted to hear if they did. Instead I have to guess. I suppose I’m used to doing that, but it’s a lot scarier. “Don’t you know?” I say.

“Yes. But I want to hear it from you.”

Great. I have to tell him in my own words. It’s like a school assignment, but the grade is how long I’m going to be locked up.

I had been in the ER for 13 hours before I came in, and then I stayed up 2 more hours getting here. I wasn’t allowed my phone until I’d been there for 6 hours. No calling my friends. No telling anyone where I was. No one to talk to. Just me and the book I brought, the book I couldn’t focus on because I’d just gone to the counselor’s office because I was having a hard time and now I was at the ER for a psych eval. The counselor who sent me to the ER had said he thought I would just get connected to resources in the community. He said he didn’t think I would be sent to a psych ward.

I’d done a lot of staring at the ceiling to just get through to the eval part, 4 hours in. 2 hours after, when I finally learned I was recommended inpatient, the social worker told me even if I hate it now, I will be grateful later. Once I feel better, I will approve of the decision to involuntarily commit me. My current wishes tossed aside for a theoretical future me who is glad I never a choice. If they’re right, I should kill myself now so I never become such a monster. All alone, with a life shattering brick dropped on my head, I finally cried.

After the eval, I’d begged the nurse for my phone so I could tell my friends where I was. So I could tell my roommate why I still hadn’t come back at 9pm when we usually saw each other by five. My phone was nearly dead when I got it. I called my friends. I called my parents. My friends stayed with me the rest of the 7 hours I was there. They hugged me and cried with me until I got taken away in an ambulance at 3am. I wondered how much a 45 minute ambulance ride cost. I wondered if it mattered.

What a fuck-up I must have seemed. I’d heard of some college kids going to psych wards before. I knew someone who had called a suicide hotline at 4am and got the cops called to take them in. I hadn’t thought it would happen to me.

It’s nice, in a way. To know how bad I’m doing. I’m bad enough that I need to be locked up. For my own safety. I’m so crazy that I can’t be trusted to make my own decisions. I hadn’t known I was that bad until now. I still don’t believe it. It’s a mistake. But it’s nice they think I’m struggling.

He’s looking at me again. I don’t remember what he asked. “Can you repeat the question?” I ask.

“Sure. Why are you here?” he says again.

Right, that was what it was. I smile. I smile when I’m nervous. “Well, I… I…” Why is he making me say this. He knows what I did. I didn’t even try to kill myself. It’s not that bad. “Well, I was… I was… Sometimes I get into these moods. A lot of times I’m normal and fine. But sometimes I just… sometimes I just want to die. I used to try not to think about how I could do that or anything.” I sigh. I had tried so hard to not think about methods. I must have known I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from doing shit like this eventually. “Because I know this sort of thing would happen. But this time… this time I did. I looked up bridges I could theoretically jump from. But that seems like it would suck.”

I laugh. It’s a nervous laugh. It’s a ‘isn’t it funny that jumping from a bridge to kill yourself would suck?’ joke. One of the classics. He’s not laughing.

“Anyway, I was just feeling… I don’t know. I felt useless. I just keep thinking about dying and killing myself. It’s stupid. And I—I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I don’t know if people think I was trying to kill myself and that’s why I’m here. But I wanted to do something. To—I don’t know. To see what’s even possible. So I—so I—so I—”

This is the part I always get stuck on describing. I don’t know how to put what I was feeling into words. I don’t know how to describe what I was doing. I don’t know why I was doing it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But then again, it had seemed like a good idea to go to the counselor’s office at the time.

“I took—I took a belt. Right? And I hooked the metal buckle part over the door knob—it’s one of those long ones. And I kind of—I kind of—I don’t know. I kind of wrapped it around my neck once and held it with my other hand. So that if I passed out I would be fine. And then I sort of… pulled down. To see if that would… do anything. I did that a few times, and then I was scared that I did it. And I told the counselor the next day.”

It hadn’t been empty blackness like I’d hoped for. It had been a pulsing pressure in my head. I did it a couple times, to see if I could get the empty blackness. Then I stopped. Because it had seemed like such a good fucking idea before I did it, but then I realized I’d done something very worrying and should probably be in therapy. Even if the voice that had started the whole thing was telling me to do it again. It wasn’t real before I’d done it, but once I’d done it, it was too real to ignore.

He’s writing on the clipboard. I have a sinking feeling I’m not getting a good grade. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I repeat.

“I know,” he says. He’s still writing. I wish I knew what it was.

It’s just me and him in my room. He woke me up when he came in. I went to sleep after breakfast. When I was admitted at 5am last night, one of the techs told me I should try to be awake during the day and asleep at night. Go to groups. Talk to people. It would help me get out sooner. But I’d already been up for 20 hours and it was 5am. So I was going to sleep and they were just going to have to live with that. Apparently you can’t skip the psychiatrist appointments, though.

“What’s got you so suicidal?” he asks.

The world. Everything. And yet, nothing. My life is great. “What do you mean?” I say.

“What do you think about that makes you want to kill yourself?” he elaborates.

“I… I don’t know,” I say. “The… the environment, I guess. Global warming. Kinda sucks to feel like the future is ruined. And the species and the ice sheets. Rising fascism.” I remember a tumblr post where a therapist talked about her patients talking more about those sorts of things making them depressed. That made it seem like an okay enough reason to give to a psychiatrist. And it’s not like that isn’t a big fucking bummer making me not want to be alive.

He makes more notes. “Anything else?” We both seem know that’s not enough on its own to make me constantly thinking about suicide.

I shrug. I’m just so stupid and worthless doesn’t feel like a cogent enough explanation. And I can’t phrase it like that. That would be stupid. “Feelings of… worthlessness, and um.” I search for something in my head. It’s fuzzy. There’s nothing there. I always remember everything so well when I’m crying in bed thinking about how much I want to kill myself. I could write essays on the subject in those moments. Instead I just rehash them to myself, over and over. But I can’t remember any of it now. “I dunno. I can’t remember unless I’m spiraling. A lot of anxiety. Around… people. Social anxiety.” I nod.

Sometimes I get attacked by my social anxiety, memories from years ago—three years, five years, a decade—sending jolts through me as I remember them. I remember what I should never do again. What I’ve learned. Lessons I can never forget, even when I can’t remember what taught them. I usually throw myself onto my bed and writhe in the agony of memories, clinging to ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I want to die’ like I'm falling in an abyss and they're the only rope up. I can never remember what the memories are until they’ve started their assault. I don’t know how to describe that, though.

I’m not being as amicable to him as I usually would be. I haven’t been amicable since they recommended me for inpatient at the ER. Something broke in me then. I’d felt it snap, a crack of terror, and then—nothing. I’m more stone-faced now. Quiet.

I can be friendly when I need to be. I can be talkative and responsive and say all the right words and have the appropriate “mmhmm”s and “oh no”s and “yeah”s. I can laugh in the right places, when it’s polite to laugh at a joke I don’t think is funny. I can make eye contact and break eye contact at what I assume are appropriate moments. I never know if I’m doing it right, though. I poured over a book about body language in high school, trying to learn how the fuck to do it. It said that the exact percentage varied, but around 40% eye contact 60% not eye contact. I tried to get the proportions right for years. Every conversation. Look at their eyes a few seconds, look away a few more seconds. Look eyes, look away. I used to look between their eyebrows, because the eyes were too much. But I read somewhere that some people can tell and they think it’s weird. So eyes it was.

I’m dead now, though. I’m already in a psych ward. They know I’m crazy. What’s the point in trying to appear like I can converse like a human. I don’t want to have to do it. So I don’t. I stare soullessly past people when they talk to me. I examine their clothes. I look at their hair. I don’t smile when they talk to me. I don’t laugh at their jokes. They ask me how I am and I don’t ask them back.

He seems to conclude I’ve finished explaining. “Well—okay, are you voluntary?” He leafs through his papers. “Yes, voluntary. Let’s see…” He leafs through them again.

Voluntary patient. What a laugh. When I came in, I was involuntary. During intake, they gave me some forms and said if I sign them I’d be a voluntary patient. I asked if anything would change. No, they said, it was a distinction with no difference. A voluntary patient still can’t leave until the psychiatrist says they can. But I would be seen as complying with the recommended treatment. It would be beneficial to be seen as complying with the recommended treatment. So I signed. But I never mistook that little black-and-white print Voluntary for consent, even if everyone else did.

#antipsychiatry #anti psych #creative nonfiction #personal narrative #psychiatric hospital #psychiatric abuse #suicidal ideation #suicide tw #trauma #complex ptsd #work in progress #dissociation #depression #anxiety #climate change mention #psych survivor #psych wards #institutionalization

[neuroticboyfriend]

no but being told to use your communication coping skills when talking to abusive people is bullshit. abusers do not listen to their victims no matter how reasonable we are.

like. anything that shows we're an individual with thoughts and feelings is going to make an abuser double down. using "i feel" statements isn't going to help if your abuser lashes out at you for showing feelings. speaking calmly isn't going to help if your abuser is threatening you. gently stating what you need isn't going to help if your abuser neglects even your simplest needs.

also so many of us hide our anger and rage. we dont speak our mind, because it's dangerous. it's the most threatening thing to an abuser... but it's also the most empowering for us. anger is the feeling that tells us something is wrong, and we need to embrace it. because our anger is not the danger - our abuser's reaction to it is, and that reaction is not our fault.

#softspoonie #abuse #abuse victim #abuse survivor #trauma #trauma survivor #trauma victim #abuse tw #survivor #antipsych #antipsychiatry #anti psych #anti psychiatry

[rainbowmewz]

edward nygma (gotham) and OSDD-1a

hi! welcome to my hellhole!! i’ve been thinking about the topic of this post for a while and i just needed to yell about it here bc yelling about it on twitter under a meme post wasn’t enough for me xD

SO! let’s talk about this. i was highly generalizing in the tweet above because i personally don’t think edward nygma suffers from dissociative identity disorder. instead, i believe he suffers from other specified dissociative disorder, specifically subtype 1a.

below the “keep reading”, i will discuss a general overview of DID and OSDD, why i think this is the case for edward nygma, and a review of the representation of it in gotham. be warned that this post has a general trigger warning for discussions of abuse, self-harm, suicide, and drug abuse. this discussion is not in depth at all, but just as a warning if you wanna avoid this post! this post also has a trigger warning for discussions of negative portrayals of DID/OSDD (such as in films like m. night shyamalan’s split and discussions of tropes such as “evil alters”).

OSDD-1 is a subtype of OSDD that is very similar to DID. to get a general gist of what OSDD is, we first have to define DID. DID (dissociative identity disorder), which used to be referred to as MPD (multiple personality disorder), is a dissociative disorder that forms in early childhood as a reaction to prolonged and/or severe trauma (abuse, for example). this causes a child’s brain to split into multiple parts, called alters, and experience amnesia/dissociation between these parts. in OSDD-1 (other specified dissociative disorder), there’s two subtypes, 1a and 1b. in 1a, there’s dissociation between parts, but their parts aren’t as distinct as someone who has DID. on the other end of the spectrum, in 1b, alters are highly distinct but experience little to no amnesia between them. as stated previously, i believe gotham’s portrayal of edward nygma/the riddler has OSDD-1a.

to avoid confusion, in this post, i’ll be referring to the two as a whole as “edward nygma”, “edward”, or “nygma”; i’ll refer to the alter we’re first introduced to as “ed”; and the alter we’re introduced to next as “the riddler” or “riddler”.

while we don’t know anything about edward’s childhood in gotham, many other portrayals of the character (arkhamverse, general comic lore, etc.) mention an abusive past, specifically at the hands of his father. in general comic lore, this abuse explains where his compulsions for showing his intelligence comes from. if this backstory is true for gotham’s portrayal of nygma, which we will assume for this analysis, this is the trauma element of OSDD.

our first introduction to the idea of edward having a dissociative disorder is in season 2 episode 1. while this is our first introduction to the difference between ed and the riddler, the two seem to have a history of co-existing before this scene (ed tells riddler stuff such as: “i get nervous when you talk to me with other people around like that” and “i know where this is going. i told you, leave ms. kringle alone”).

now that we have those basics down (trauma and evidence of a long-standing dissociative disorder), i’ll be referring to an article written by DID-Research.org titled “DID Versus OSDD-1″. this will hopefully help my thoughts be more concise, since i tend to.. go all over the place with this stuff. i tried to write my thoughts on this topic in a discord server before and it went in 50 different directions x3

DID-Research’s article discusses how the parts in OSDD-1a are different from disorders such as borderline personality disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder, and complex posttraumatic stress disorder. while OSDD-1a’s parts are way less differentiated as ones in DID or OSDD-1b, since individuals “are more likely to present as the same individual”, these parts can have “different skills, emotional reactivity, or ways of interacting with the world”. to me, this sounds exactly like what riddler and ed go through throughout gotham. as early as season 2, riddler is shown as more confident, brash, and witty than his counterpart. ed is more focused on living a normal life, he wants to live out this fantasy with kristen, then isabella, then lee. this is all he craves, to be seen as normal and not a freak. riddler on the other hand, isn’t as concerned. sure, he originally wants to pursue kristen, but in a way to introduce a sense of excitement and power in him and ed’s life.

this mention of ed’s craving for a normal life is something.. very interesting as well. according to the theory of structural dissociation, there’s two types of parts a person with OSDD/DID could have. these are referred to as Apparently Normal Parts (ANPs, these alters take care of daily life, often are avoidant (or unaware) of trauma, and have a need to appear high-functioning (sound like anyone we know?)) and Emotional Parts (EPs, these alters represent dissociation and trauma through memories, internalized beliefs, and learned responses). ed seems much like an ANP, while riddler seems more like an EP. an article discussing the differences of ANPs and EPs states that an ANP “might engage in self harm or use psychogenic substances in attempts to forcefully tether themselves to the present and prevent EP from intruding”. this sounds very familiar, does it not? his abuse of hallucinogens in season 3 to see oswald again, using pills again in season 4 to try and get rid of the riddler, and if i remember correctly, plotting to kill himself in season 4 as well.

as i stated, the article talks about how OSDD-1a is different from an identity disturbance in disorders such as BPD, PTSD, and C-PTSD. the article specifically says that people with these disorders might feel a loss of control, but never “feel that different parts of them are capable of acting independently or that different parts of them have and express their own views or goals”. this exact quote proves that what nygma might be experiencing is OSDD-1a. our introduction to the two psyches of edward nygma show their differing goals and views. as another example, in season 5, riddler is completely unaware of ed’s plan to destroy haven and is shown as extremely distraught when he appears in different places without knowledge of what happened beforehand.

so.. it seems obvious that edward nygma has OSDD-1a, right? so... how would i, as a psychology major, someone who possibly has DID/OSDD, and someone who’s known multiple people with DID/OSDD, review this representation?

i’d say... it’s pretty good for what it’s worth!! gotham as a tv show has always dealt with terrible writing and a lot of things could have been written better, but this topic is surprisingly one they handled pretty okay. there was... a lot of room for more and it’s quite strange to see the dissociative disorder representation go to edward nygma instead of a character such as harvey dent (who’s a whole other can of worms and has been stated to have “MPD” in the past).

it’s really refreshing to see representation of DID/OSDD that doesn’t rely on played out and disgusting tropes such as “evil alters”. while it seems like riddler might play out as an evil alter, both ed and riddler are both messed up in their own ways. there’s no evil alter to stop, they’re both.. villains in their own ways (blowing up a place w/ the most vulnerable members of the city vs hiding your dead gf’s body parts over a police precinct, pick your poison). i also enjoy how cory michael smith portrays the two psyches of edward nygma and portrays the way the two switch in and out!

you’re free to disagree with my opinion as well. i’d love to have a discussion in the comments or reblogs :DD!! i just... really enjoyed writing this up. if i missed anything, just tell me :33

#gotham #got ham posting #edward nygma #the riddler #gotham 2014 #gotham fox #gotham analysis #tv analysis #osdd-1a #psychology #character analysis #psych analysis #other specified dissociative disorder #disociative identity disorder #tw suicide mention #tw abuse mention #tw self harm mention #tw drug abuse mention