#... i don't need therapy i think. maybe i do. i've said to myself that the best way for me to go with it is to just do it by myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bumblequinn · 6 months

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hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

#adhd #advice #asks #from #sourpatchsquids

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astrxealis · 1 year

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sometimes i overthink and get overly anxious but then my worries are quelled and that feeling is just. the best

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#happened sometime before when i thought some people hated me but no oops i just jumped to conclusions #but i remember being so anxious about that! kinda brought me back to an experience some time ago where #uhm. yeah i had trouble sleeping because my heartbeat was too fast all the time. concerning not-so-good ol' days!#and so yeah that got cleared up though. and then now i thought other people hated me but school this time #and i thought they thought i was irresponsible and idk man but phew my worries were for naught... i think!#man i think overall i don't get as anxious but it's definitely still there #tw anxiety #part of me in general feels like everyone around me secretly hates me and it kinda really sucks #because i know it isn't true but sometimes i'm told that in fights even if i know they don't mean it and we always make up #and then in general i usually feel like i'm never a 'favorite'. as in. yeah. whatever HELP DON'T MIND ME SORRY #it's really complicated but also i understand how i've come to be this way and it's... just kinda sad to me i think #i think of that one in the tags kinda reblog game where it was 'what would cure you' or smth like that and #i think i just need a partner of sorts. someone who is for me. and i for them. and i have a twin but it's different you see #and i don't think anyone can really understand that because . twins aren't the most common. i don't have friends #who have twins orrr the one that does is not close with their twin unfortunately! so. yeah.#agh sorry sorry sorry i'll get back to doing stuff #yk it seems like i have really high self-love and all and ultimately i do but sometimes i wonder how much of it is a mask #which is why i was often confused whether i'm actually happy or confident or anything at all and. i'm kinda still like that now #... i don't need therapy i think. maybe i do. i've said to myself that the best way for me to go with it is to just do it by myself #but i'm wondering if that really is best considering. it's always by myself. i know people are there for me #but ultimately i just feel so... dreadfully alone #anyways happy monday HWBJBAFABHFb

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imgae-insertshockedgasps-16 · 3 months

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humans are space orcs

imagine someone with chronic joint pain, whose dream their whole lives has been to go to space and meet the aliens and be a scientist and learn

so they look up the requirements as a kid and go "fuck."

they wouldn't make the cut.

their dreams are dashed. hopes ruined. lifelong dre destroyed.

except....

they've never really said a whole lot about their pain. they don't particularly like doctors, and they think that they've been managing just fine, so they never saw the point.

so maybe... maybe if they just don't say anything, they can make it to space.

they spend all of their time training. doing physical therapy exercises so that their joints aren't so loose, soaking up as much scientific and mathematical knowledge as they can, teaching themselves to push through the worst of it in pursuit of their dream.

and they make it.

they make it to space! it was gruelling, tortuous work, but they made it!

their first mission is an exploratory one, with a diverse crew which only has one other human.

they're thrilled.

they have dozens of alien friends and acquaintances. they spend hours learning and researching alien planets and cultures. it's everything they've ever wanted!

but

it's exhausting.

they're in more pain than they've ever been, more frequently than they ever have.

they keep up their exercises as best they can, but even those are often too much.

they smile when asked if they're alright, tell everyone that "i'm fine! just tired."

but they need a break. they can't imagine going or being sent back to earth, this is their home now, with these people, on this ship. but they don't know how much longer they can take this.

one day, on their day off, a fellow researcher comes and knocks on their door.

"are you here?"

"not today islith."

"but we've been called! there are some exciting new discoveries that need further cataloging and investigation, and carlmoth thought you would enjoy the task!"

"i can't today, islith."

"are you ill?"

"...kind of? but i'll be right as rain tomorrow. it's my day off anyhow."

"nonsense! you should go down to medbay!"

"i'm alright, i promise."

"you get out here right this minute or i'll report you to medbay myself!"

"no!" there's a series of crashes and thumps, and then they open the door.

"oh, you look awful. come on, you really must need medbay, what if you're contagious." islith tries to grab them but they shy away.

"i'm not contagious, i promise."

"how can you possibly know that? what if you picked it up from a sample, or, or, garfon has been sick recently! humans can't survive cerian sicknesses-"

"i didn't catch something from garfon, islith," they sigh and open the door wider. "come in and let me explain."

"alright, but if i think you should go to medbay afterwards then i'm taking you there."

"sure, islith."

islith enters, notices the piles of clothes, rumpled bedsheets, the lights are off and the port window shut.

"what's wrong?"

they sigh again, "my body doesn't work like it's meant to, islith."

islith is wildly alarmed, "and you said there was no need for medbay?!? come with me right now and-"

"no! i can't, islith, you don't understand."

"then explain it to me."

"i've... always been this way, although it's gotten worse as i've gotten older. my body, it just isn't built quite right, there's something wrong with it that makes it not work properly and hurt often."

"you're right, i don't understand. why can't you go to medbay?"

"i'd... be thrown off the ship."

"what?!?"

and so they tell islith a story about a young child whose dream was to touch the stars.

"and now, it's too late. i'd get in huge trouble for lying to the government, especially for so long."

"well- but- but humans are so resilient! you hear all the stories!"

"not every human is the same, islith. some of us are born disabled, and some of us get hurt in accidents, just like any other species."

"well, then, well there must be something we can do?"

they look up in shock, "we?"

"of course we, you ridiculous creature," islith said with a fond sigh. "you didn't think i'd leave you to suffer, would you?"

"but, you could get in so much trouble!"

"that's alright, i don't mind. what else are friends for? and, anyway, we don't have to tell your government, we can tell mine."

"but i'll-"

"we don't have any rules like that. any of us who are disabled can still manage in space just fine with the right support, and i bet you could too."

"i- islith- i don't-"

"don't worry, we'll all back you when it comes down to it. you're out teammate, our family. no one on this ship wants to watch you leave because of something you can't control. now come on, let's talk to glidlep in medical, she'll understand."

and for years, things continued on that way, until eventually it was an open secret that the human with the exosuit was disabled and not technically allowed onboard.

and down the line, when nasa found out and was furious, the entire ship and more stood by their side.

#anyway i need to go cry now #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #disabled #disability #disability in space #chronic pain #chronic illness #chronically ill #joint pain

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equalseleventhirds · 1 year

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"I don't understand how I'm losing," Reigen said, his hands flying over his keyboard. It was so late now—too late, maybe—if only he'd used the same technique as with the Player Killer from the beginning, he might have stood a chance, but he hadn't seriously thought he'd lose—

"Shishou," Mob said, "why is this so important? You already have second place from Twitter."

Reigen laughed, not at all nervously, and splayed a hand across his forehead. "You don't understand, Mob. The publicity from something like this, even a rematch, would do wonders for Spirits and Such. This is about business."

(He would never admit to his pride being on the line.)

"And anyway, who is this guy? A radio host? I've been on TV, you know."

Mob carefully did not bring up what had actually happened when Reigen made his television debut.

Ritsu had no such qualms. "When they exposed you as a fraud? That was publicity too, right?"

"Hey—!"

Serizawa leaned over Reigen's shoulder to see the computer screen, careful not to spill the tea he placed on the desk. "Oh, Cecil from Welcome to Night Vale? It's been a while since I listened to that, maybe I should catch up."

Reigen stared at him. "You? What? Serizawa?"

"Ah... yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Back when I was... well, when I didn't leave my room much, the podcast was popular. I guess it gave a sense of... community? Feeling less alone, even when you are." He shrugged. "Plus, hearing another gay man in a show like that was comforting."

"He's gay? Canonically?" Why can't I be gay canonically?

"Sure, he got married in episode 100. It was very emotional."

"I nearly died in our chapter 100—"

-- -- -- -- --

Well, listeners, there's still a few hours left on the poll, but I'm now leading at 56%! I must say, I did not expect this, especially after Twitter users so clearly forgot—or perhaps never knew—about my Tumblr Sexyman Origins.

But, that's neither here nor there. I certainly am grateful, if a bit bemused, about all of this, but let us not forget that this is all a friendly competition. Unlike the annual War On Christmas—and let us all take a moment to remember our fallen allies against that terrible holiday foe—this is a battle of kindness. Love, even. The love we feel for Tumblr, for our favorite sexy men, for pressing a button on a meaningless internet poll. The love we feel, listeners, for each other.

And in the spirit of that love and friendliness, I figured I'd get to know my opponent a little better! A bit of googling, which of course you know means searching via every search engine but Google, what with the Town Council imposing the Google Search Tax and getting all Night Vale IP addresses shadowbanned, has led me to... oh my, listeners. I do not know who made this, but Reigen Arataka has the single most beautiful professional web page I have ever encountered. It's... words do not do it justice. I am tearing up. This... I could not make anything better myself.

A-hem. Listeners, now that I've wiped away the tears such beauty inspired in me, I can now see that Reigen's website advertises his business, one Spirits and Such Consulting. Well! We may be rivals in this moment, but I am overjoyed to learn that Reigen runs such an innovative and important business! I am nearly ashamed that, while my opponent works to make the world a better place, I, a mere community radio host, am winning the sexyman contest.

Nevertheless, we must respect the polls. Not respecting polls could get us in hot water with the Town Council, or with the demigods of numbers who lurk in the sharp edges of percentages. So since I can't hand my victory over to him, I think I'll do what I can as a community radio host, and promote Reigen Arataka's important business!

So if you're a spirit in need of counseling, a ghost in need of therapy, or an eldritch beast in need of a shoulder to cry on, head on over to Seasoning City and pay our good friend Reigen a visit! I'm sure he'll be pleased as anything to see you.

#long post #fanfiction #algie writes things #fjskdlfjdk SORRY ABOUT THIS BUT #i had to i had tooooooo #hammered this out v quickly and i am feelin v sleeby still so it's not polished but it IS funny #.......i think. i think it's funny. u kno.#anyway #sexymanotd #tumblr sexyman rematch #cecilsweep

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prettyboybuckley · 20 days

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seven sentences sunday

tagged by the lovely @rogerzsteven 🥰 this is a lot more than seven sentences, but I think I'm allowed after all the Sundays I've missed 🙈 also, would I be me if I didn't use this new storyline as an opportunity to write a threesome fic? Buck comes out to Eddie and tells him about his relationship with Tommy over dinner with both of them. What happens when Eddie reveals that during all his therapy, he figured out that he isn't straight either? "In theory", at least, according to Eddie.

"So, does this change anything?" Tommy asks as he diligently dries off the plates and glasses that Buck hands to him after washing them.

Buck pauses, torso half-turning towards Tommy as he looks at him. "What exactly?"

"Eddie being- Eddie being queer."

Tommy isn't stupid, and he knows that he's said that before, but he'll say it again. He's seen the way those two act together, how they look at each other. The moment the words left Eddie's mouth, he'd kind of figured that it'd been fun, he'd helped Buck figure out his sexuality, and now these two knew about each other, and a few days from now Tommy is going to gently get dumped because Buck can be with his best friend.

He needed to ask.

Buck blinks, tilts his head a bit as if he's thinking, but he doesn't look away, except for a quick glance to the stairs. Eddie's voice as he talks to his son on the phone is drifting down from the loft.

"I don't know," he answers, and Tommy knows it's honest. It's also obvious that Buck knows what he means. "I do know that I don't want it to change anything between you and me. I know it's only been a month, but I really care about you, Tommy."

Oh.

That wasn't was he was expecting. Buck sounds so earnest, though, and Tommy believes him, and it sparks hope.

"Okay," Tommy says, and he can't resist leaning in and kissing Buck, brief and gentle. "That's good, I like that, and I care about you too."

Buck has that soft, shy smile he often gets when Tommy kisses him like that, and it's a weight off his shoulders to know this isn't the end of them, at least not yet. Not all the weight, though.

"You know, you've been so good to me, and patient, helping me figure myself out and everything… I wish Eddie would have someone like that for him."

There is a tinge of sadness there, perhaps at the knowledge that by choosing Tommy — and god, is he really choosing Tommy? Or is he simply scared to choose Eddie? — that will not be him.

And for some reason, that is what puts an idea in Tommy's head. A crazy idea, bordering on insane, but-

He likes Eddie. Earlier today, he was thinking about how he'd have considered dating Eddie, if Buck hadn't been right there flirting with him, and if he'd thought he'd have a chance. Now he's thinking that maybe- maybe there is a possibility.

"What if it does change things? I mean, between the three of us, together?" he asks on a whim as Buck takes off those adorable dishwashing gloves, and Buck's head snaps in his direction. "What if we give Eddie that?"

It seems that Buck is picking up what he's putting down because his eyes widen and his gaze flickers over Tommy's shoulder to the loft and then back. Buck licks his lips, taking in a deep breath, and then he's nodding, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

Tommy smiles back.

tagging: @monsterrae1 @saybiwithme @loserdiaz @bi-buckrights @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @princessfbi ✨

#gary writes #seven sentence sunday #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #wip

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crucipuzzled · 1 year

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About Loid Forger's therapy in SxF manga chapter 77 (Spoilers ahead)

There's a Freudian text for everything. Today's all about The Question of Lay Analysis (1926), also known as Wild Analysis.

Endo did what I have been planning to do for a comic of my own: depict Loid actually working as a Psychiatrist. While I'm glad he took this path, sadly I can't say he did a good job on it.

As some of you know, I'm a therapist grounded in Psychoanalitic Theory. Yes, I like Freud and Lacan, and no, Oedipus Complex is not what you heard it is. I did a brief analysis of Psychiatry stuff in SxF in the past, and today I feel compelled to repeat that exercise.

Let's go in order.

1. The importance of being a third party

What's the reason for which people ask a therapist for help, and not their families or friends? What do we have that they don't?

The answer is pretty simple: neutrality. We don't have a side other than rationality and ethics. A good therapist should be able to listen to his patient without losing objectivity.

When you and your patient have a shared, unique shared experience, it's preferable, even ethical, to refer him to another therapist, in order to preserve the higher interest of the patient. The more neutrality you can muster, the better for the curing process. Otherwise, it's really hard to listen to someone else without being constantly reminded of yourself. It turns into a blind spot.

Now, there are exceptions to this rule, but you must handle them carefully, and always putting the patient at the center. Loid openly talking here about how close he is to the hijacking incident doesn't help much.

In short, you have to ensure that your position in the therapeutic process remains an impartial, neutral Other, and avoid becoming a fellow. It's good to create trust, but not too much, just enough to work.

2. Chronic condition (?)

The biggest difference between a Psychiatrist and a Psychologist is that the first went to Med School. Hence, chronicity is a term that applies mostly for organic conditions, but it's rare in the field of subjectivity.

In my short experience, I've met cases labeled as "chronic depression" being cured. I, myself, cured a case of "compulsive suicide attempts since 15 years old, chronic depression, started hearing evil voices 2 weeks ago". You might think that I'm a great therapist, but it's not the case; it's just that, in order to tackle subjective problems, you ought to go to the root of the symptoms and deal with the subjectivity you find there. Psychoanalitic therapy has proven to be wonderful to treat many conditions that didn't get a cure in other types of psychotherapy.

Of course, it's not a panacea. There are things that we can't figure out yet. But bear in mind that chronicity, in the field of the mind, is more complex than just the passage of time and only a bunch of mental conditions truly admit it.

Jacques Lacan, the most important psychoanalist after Freud, said that the unconscious's track of time is not chronological, but logical. You don't just jump out of adolescence because you turned 18; other things need to happen for you to finally feel like an adult. It's a logical progression. The same can be said about some "chronic" conditions.

3. Explicit Reason of Consultation vs Latent Reason of Consultation

A.K.A Everybody lies.

Psychotherapy is a really weird thing to learn and master. In Psychology School they teach you that you must trust what your patient tells you, but at the same time, distrust him enough. How to conceal both things?

Well, everything is easier when you take Dr. House's words to heart.

Everyone states a reason for consultation, but that first reason is never the real reason, no matter how reasonable it might sound. The trick to discern what the latent, real reason for consultation is, is to determine what the subjective conflict hiding in plain sight is. Sometimes there isn't any and therefore, a full psychotherapy is not necessary (maybe just assisting someone with some things, being there just in case, etc), but most cases are built upon a conflict.

I'm glad that Loid here decided to act like a good Psychiatrist and took a mental note on the oddities.

WELL SAID MY BOY, I'M PROUD OF YOU

I want to remark this, because it's discouraging how many therapists oversee this to simplify their job to an extreme. Believe it or not, there are therapists out there that act upon what their patients tell them first. "Hi doc. I came here today because I got an accident and I think I have PTSD". "Ok, I'll have you practice these mindfulness excercises and you should be ok within a month, see ya". DUDE.

4. The place of truth in the context of Psychotherapy

Ah, the classic temptation of knowing the 'real' truth. Is this patient in front of me bullshitting his way out? Is he in a delirium? Is she telling the truth, or just embellishing her story to make it more believable?

You don't have this struggle once you are certain of your role as a psychotherapist. And your role is to help your patients to deal with their subjective struggles.

In short: Psychoterapy deals with the patient's truth, not with the 'real' truth.

You know who deals with 'real' truth in the field of Mental Health? Social Workers.

We psychotherapists don't need to ascertain our patient's claims. Confronting them with reality usually proves to be fruitless, just like Loid did here ("But you're a respected educator!"). It's way more useful to open the topic by asking more questions such as "How did you reach that conclussion?" "What made you think that way?", or giving a specular answer ("You speak like someone else said that about you", "You're too hard with yourself. Where does that come from?", "It sounds like you're belittling your fear for what your wife could say", etc etc etc).

Whenever you're with a neurotic patient, their own personal truth is the only truth you need to work with. Leave the 'real' truth for people who actually needs it, like Social Workers, Doctors or Judges. Your role with a patient is to make sure that his personal truth can turn into something less painful. No need to talk with their friends and family for info, unless your patient is a child or a teenager; just ask him and stick to what he says word by word.

There's a huge topic about the place of reality in therapy, specially in the field of Psychoanalysis, but if I start this train of thought I'm afraid I'll go down to Hell. If you're interested, I've reblogged some Lacanian pills on this Tumblr, check them out by searching the tag #lacan.

PS: NO LOID, DON'T DO THAT. DON'T BREAK THE TRUST YOU ACHIEVED WITH MR AUSTIN! CONFIDENTIALITY IS A MUST!!

5. Counceling = Psychotherapy?

Loid is a (fake) Psychiatrist, not a psychotherapist, so I can't be too hard on him. Also I stan this man. I'm painfully well aware that councelling and coaching is an alternative to psychotherapy in other parts of the world, mostly in the US. But let's not forget one thing:

Psychotherapists DON'T GIVE ADVICES.

At least, not the ones that take this job seriously.

Everyone can give advices. Do you want an advice? Ask your family or friends, or post something in social media, or ask a complete stranger in the street what to do. You'll get plenty of answers and advices. Maybe a bunch of them will be really useful. Good!

The thing with advices is that: -They act like a universal recipe for a problem -There's no universal recipe to sort a problem -They don't tackle the subjective root of a problem -They assume that the problem can be solved by something you can do upon your surroundings, when the real struggle stems from subjective problems Some advices do help with real struggles, but when you have a subjective conflict, they barely help; hell, sometimes they make everything worse.

Like Loid here.

Remember when I mentioned that the unconscious mind's track of time is not chronological, but logical? This is a great example. Mr Austin won't be able to properly talk with his wife just because Loid adviced him to; he must solve other issues before that.

I'm glad we're on the same page on this one

6. Your therapist is not your friend

Sad but true.

If your therapist is good enough, you won't know many things about his private life. You won't know about his lover, his hobbies, where does he live, what does he fear.

Why the secretism? Because it's useless for the patient. Also because disclosing personal information has the effect of becoming a model for the patient, who would start to imitate you. And finally, because you need to mantain a semblance of neutrality and not getting emotionally close with the patient more than necessary.

PS: It's kinda cute how aware Loid is about Yor's every movement. Kinda. KISS HER ALREADY, GODDAMNIT

7. Talking cure and (how not to use) the divan

I talked a bit about divans here.

There, I mentioned that you should NEVER PUT A PSYCHOTIC PATIENT IN A DIVAN. NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE. Well, we can amplify this rule a bit and say that you should avoid the divan with any patient that has a risk of getting seriously upset, like in severe trauma.

The divan is not the only thing that could play against you if badly used. There are cases in Psychiatric Hospitals of patients getting upset because their therapists used the same clothes and hairstyle every single day for months. The point here is that, with psychotic patients and fragile psychic structures (like what happens in traumatized people), you can't use methods that require too much projection.

Also, Lottie here is not performing a Talking Cure.

The divan has been used since Freud to facilitate transference through the Free Association Method. You lay down on it and your therapist ask for whatever crosses your mind first. You don't put a content there beforehand.

(On the same line, if you're a therapist, please refrain from decorating your consultation room with motivational phrases. You're putting words in your patient's mouth before he even starts to speak)

So, it's useless to make Mr Austin lay down on a divan, only to ask him to remember a specific memory. I'd advice (Ha! The irony!) against using the divan here.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- To finish my Two Cents, I'd like to point some positive aspects of this chapter. It's nice that a troubled person decides to seek for help. There's still a huge stigma about men requiring mental health help, and it's a nice example to settle to portray one actually going to a Psychiatrist. Men usually struggle with their problems alone and they have it rough.

It's also nice that, in the end, Loid could help his patient. I wonder how (How?!), but it probably means that, at some point of the process, he changed his methods for the better.

And yes. Sometimes, helping one single person can change many lives. I'm honored to be able to attest to that :D

As everyone, I'd expect the logical sucession of events that could follow this chapter: Loid realizing he's got a heck of a wife compared to other marriages, appreciating Yor more, and giving us heavy smut cute TwiYor moments. But Endo has proven to be an author that doesn't like to follow logic. So, let's brace for whatever will come in two weeks.

Thank you for reading!

#spy x family #loid forger #psychiatry #psychoanalysis #sigmund freud #jacques lacan #psychotherapy #spy x family manga #sxf

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noahsresources · 9 months

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incorrect quotes prompts (1/?)

taken from this generator & this generator! triggering themes & nsfw topics may be present!

❝ i am very small and i have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that i'm under. ❞ ❝ when i see initials carved into a tree with a heart i think it's so romantic. two lovers on a date ... one of them carrying a knife for some reason. ❞ ❝ i'm sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don't know that. neither do i. i have never died even ONCE. nothing has been proven yet. stop making assumptions. it's rude. ❞ ❝ hey, quick question. how petty am i allowed to be? ❞ ❝ i'm not funny, i'm just really mean and people think i'm joking. ❞ ❝ i'm a masochist, not a loser. ❞ ❝ i've come to a point in my life where i need a stronger word than fuck. ❞ ❝ like, no offense to myself and all, but what the fuck am i actually doing? ❞ ❝ i think my guardian angel drinks. ❞ ❝ behold, the field in which i grow my fucks! lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren! ❞ ❝ i said 'no' to drugs, but they wouldn't listen. ❞ ❝ i'm not a morning person. i'm barely even a person. ❞ ❝ i'm a nice person, but i'm about to start throwing rocks at people. ❞ ❝ well you see, the explanation is perfectly simple and scientific. it was because shut up. shut up is why. ❞ ❝ i came out here to attack people and i'm honestly having such a good time right now. ❞ ❝ i'm the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room. ❞ ❝ died and came back as a cowboy, i call that reintarnation. ❞ ❝ could you maybe just like ... stab me ... right in the gut. just REALLY twist it in there. 'cause that honestly seems less painful than this conversation. ❞ ❝ i'd like to offer you moral support, but i have questionable morals. ❞ ❝ i wish i was a cat, but not in a furry kinda way, more like a 'i can sleep all day and hit people with no consequences' kinda way. ❞ ❝ my ultimate goal is to punch god in the eye, just to spite him one last time. ❞ ❝ i would say i outdid myself, but i'm always this good, so i simply did myself. ❞ ❝ i just wanted to say that over the years, i have come to regard you as ... people i met. ❞ ❝ i'm usually that person who has no idea what's going on. ❞ ❝ you treat an outside would with rubbing alcohol. you treat an inside wound with drinking alcohol. ❞ ❝ it's not ugly, just aesthetically challenged. ❞ ❝ you'll have a hard time believing this because it never happens, but i made a mistake. ❞

#rp ask memes #rp ask meme #rp memes #rp meme #rp starters #rp starter #ask meme #ask memes #incorrect quotes prompts #incorrect quotes memes #crack prompts #crack memes #memes #mine

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sourbinnie · 1 year

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title -> take me back (take me back literally) genre -> angst (oh my god, is that all i write) + hopeful ending plot -> your relationship fell apart with minho but he still remembers everything about you, especially that one trip to monaco. warnings -> minho sometimes curses a bit too much + implied sexual content (one unholy night that's it but no explicit stuff) pair -> ex!minho x gn!reader words -> 1572 lowercase intended a/n -> this one's kinda bad but eh, i wanted to publish it anyways bc this song is my boo

las luces, las noches que fuimos de bares las vez que peleamos y perdiste las llaves se extraña todo lo que fue tenerte haría todo por volver a verte mirar tus ojos y esta vez perderme

monaco / lagos & danny ocean

every time i thought about them it was as if flashbacks came rushing through me. the wind hitting me in the face, the bright sunny day, the music that the radio played, the long car drives that never ended, everything felt too familiar yet so distant. as if you were nothing but a lost memory that i left on a vacation in monaco.

if i told anyone why we split up, they wouldn't believe me.

everyone would say that we were the perfect couple, the combination that came once in a lifetime and then you stayed with that special someone till the end of time. i beg to differ that we weren't perfect at all, we just showed a version of ourselves in front of people and in the more intimate moments everything would collapse slowly. it wasn't toxic but it wasn't healthy either. yet if i knew that what we had wasn't good, why am i missing you so much? why do i wake up everyday wishing you were by my side? why do i want our first vacation back in monaco to grace me back? just let me repeat it one more time before i go to sleep and keep dreaming of you.

why do i keep saying this place? this country? 'cause i know what we had was special. i know that what we lived there was out of this world even if it was my vacation with the boys and i brought you along, and literally everyone called me a simp, i did not care.

we explored so much, drank way too much and did unholy things but i wouldn't change that for the world. you taking my hand as the sunshine would reflect our shadows on the pavement. you bringing me closer and giving me the sweetest kiss for the world to see. you saying that you didn't wanna leave, you didn't wanna go back because you would miss me when i would go back to work, broke my heart and as much as i wanted to say "let's stay here forever", it was just an illusion and nothing else.

i know you (y/n), i know you're probably thinking that i don't miss you, that those words said to me that night are just a reflection of what i feel. i would do anything right now to see you, i miss everything you gave me, everything you were. even if it brought some of the saddest moments, i do not care, i am so fucking in love that i will go to couple's therapy with you if it's a way to fix us. i would quit my job, move to monaco for fuck's sake, i just want you back.

i shouldn't be reaching for my phone right now like i knew exactly what i was gonna say 'cause i did not have a fucking idea of what i'm doing. i needed to hear your voice, everyone around me knew i needed you, the boys, my parents, even the staff and jyp himself knew that i wasn't acting the same way since the break up.

since we split ways and decided to let our relationship die, i've been dead myself. trying to hold on, trying to put a fake smile, trying to just not fall apart in front of everyone. when they asked me why, i just said things weren't "working out" which is partially true but maybe i'm realizing now that if i put more effort and didn't let go like i did that night, we would've ended up in a better place.

i dialed your number, i prayed to everything & everyone that you didn't block me. and in fact you didn't...

maybe you were waiting for this as much as i was?

maybe you just needed me to call.

or maybe i should hang up and pretend this never happened in the first place.

"hello? minho?" your voice caught me off guard. i haven't heard it in a while and i've been processing in my head way too much. panicking as anxiety settles in and just knowing that i have to keep this conversation up, not wanting to let you go again.

"hey (y/n) i'm sorry, this is way out of nowhere and i-i needed to talk to you." voice crack and everything, good job minho. "i know you probably don't wanna talk to me right now but-."

"i did wanna talk to you, you know i'm always waiting for you to come back right?" what? did they actually say that or am i hallucinating again?

"what do you mean?" what the hell would it mean minho!? why am i so goddamn awful at speaking, jesus christ. "i just, i didn't expect you to be waiting after what happened that night."

i was invaded by awful memories. no more monaco, no more sunshine, no more petals, just a cold rainy night in seoul in our shared apartment that now only belongs to me. i said some fucked up things, i destroyed everything we built with just words, i regretted every single night since then. i know they were also wrong in some things but it's nothing compared to the things i've said out of pure anger, fear and disappointment.

i didn't want that but i also knew i couldn't keep living like this, thinking that there was a chance that we could go back and fix the mess we made.

"i know, i thought so too and it wasn't fair to me what you decided to do that night." you said calmly and i understood, i wasn't an idiot, i wasn't angry or throwing things thinking you were in the wrong. i took it because i know i hurt you and i'm...

"sorry, i'm always gonna be sorry for what i said, for what i did and for all the things that happened." i was feeling the tears and it was rare, i didn't like to cry. i've been told i don't cry at all even when sad moments happen, i just don't have the strength to do so when usually it's the opposite for most people. "i know you know that we were both in the wrong, we fought endlessly and i needed to let you go somehow and i chose the worst way, i will always be sorry."

"it's okay, i don't blame you even if it hurt me, even if it stings sometimes, i know it wasn't you talking and i know my minho way better than that." my minho...

my minho was gonna kill me and bury me for god's sake, i'm losing my mind. the tears, the dizziness, everything was falling in it's place and i still didn't know what to do. i didn't expect things to go like this but i knew it was my chance to make it better.

"(y/n) i'm gonna make it simple, you know i'm not good with words, in fact i've been panicking trying to think of what to say to you." i laughed but it wasn't the laughter that they knew, it was more of a choked up kind, one that was desperate to be told what to do in this situation. "i haven't been the same since you left, i can barely function, i don't know what i'm doing most of the time as i wait for you (and it looks like you've been waiting for me too), hoping you'll return."

speaking as you're crying is probably the worst way of communicating but i was taking this like my last opportunity to mend everything.

"i want you back, i'll do anything to be with you again." i said lightly and softly 'cause words were barely coming out of me. "i love you, i will never stop loving you and i've been remembering so much of our history but mostly that specific vacation we had with the boys..."

"oh so you're also thinking in monaco? the promise we made right?"

how could i forget the most important part? as we stared at the sunset, you held your pinky finger and i thought it was dumb and childish but when we intertwined them and promised to never let go, to always hold on to what we had even in our darkest times, even if the skies were no longer blue but gray & dull, i would have your back and you would have mine. i broke it somehow and in some way but i didn't mean to, i never let go, i never wanted to end things and i was hoping, praying, you didn't either.

"i'm always thinking about it, i'm always thinking about you, about us..." i said and sighed. i gave it all and somehow it still felt like a weight when i heard their voice, because i had to make up for so many tears. "please give me another chance, i won't promise because i know you're probably thinking that i'll break it but i need you back in my life, i love you."

as sincere as i got and as cliche as it was, i just couldn't contain it anymore.

"i love you too but we have to talk about it in person okay? can you hold on a bit for me min?" you said, this time tenderly and softly. i nodded even though you couldn't see it and that's when i said...

"anything for you jagi".

#skz drabbles #skz imagines #minho x reader #skz minho #skz lee know #skz short imagines #skz songfics #songfics #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz angst #skz scenarios #minho imagines #minho drabbles #sourbinnie #minho angst

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xr0tt3nxfl3shx · 3 months

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👁💊My Medicine is underdeveloped and my Amygdala won't work.💉👁

Twomp[AU] fanfiction + art !! Pertains to the events in this post. [No beta we die.]

⚠️‼️TW: VOMITING / OVERDOSE / SUICIDAL IDEATION / UNREALITY / CORRUPT MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM / GENERAL MENTAL ILLNESS THEMES‼️⚠️

A/N: i didnt wanna mention it tbh but just in case, ive been down the chemical consumption road 3 times, an i mention because i know the internet has opinions on mental illness in writing. But ive been there myself. All up close and personal like. so i think i can speak on it (dont castrate me)

POV: 👁Argos👁

I scratch at my skin in the dark of my room as if that'll hold in the tears from spilling over my burning red cheeks. The feeling of rage and overwhelming depression clash within me, and leave me to switch every few minutes between cursing the name of every therapist who ever told me that "I'm not even trying to get better" and crying over the idea that they might be right.

My heartbeat is so vigorous that it feels like at any moment the tendons will tear away and my heart will burst in my ribs. How could anyone say that to me? I seethe and hiss through my gritting teeth. Why can't I get better? I cry enough to fill an ocean and nearly drown in my tears.

I should be able to control all of this by now, I'm not a child. Yet, I can't stop thinking about putting the heads of those who hurt me on a platter. Or banging my head on my bedroom wall hard enough to dull the heartbreak. My eyes are running dry from all the tears, I've been at this for a while. My head is pounding from the adrenaline. All reasonable thoughts are drowned out, with intrusive and irrational ones taking the place of my internal voice of reason.

I can make it better, I can make this better. I just need to try a little harder! Just.. go a little further. These feelings, it's just a chemical imbalance right?

I'm running out of options, types of therapy, pills, at this point I might as well just get a lobotomy. I'm sure my therapist would like that.

There's still time to make this right. I don't have to end my life to end my suffering right?

I can prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. It's just a chemical imbalance. I just need to fix it.

I rummage through the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink, overlooking the blood crusting around the drain. There has to be something in here that can make my head stop pounding or my thoughts quiet down if not for just a little while. Maybe everything all at once? Yeah that should do!

Laid out in front of me on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom are various pill bottles. The amount of pills actually in them is varied, they like to switch my meds every other week it seems. I try to be hasty with this, pouring out a small handful of gel capsules into my hand. Each one smooth, glossy, and slightly cool to the touch.

You know, I've been here before, and typically there's some survival instinct in me, paralyzing my hands before I can do any damage. But all I can feel is anguish. And anger. And there's no more room for self preservation in me.

I take my first dose before I can come down from my emotion fueled adrenaline rush. Quickly now don't let the self preservation come back. I take my next dose of a new pill type, a tablet. It was a bad idea doing this dry but oh well!

Before I know it I'm slumped against my bathroom door, unable to continue my self medication on account of the mounds of pills I dry swallowed having begun triggering my gag reflex. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about this, but it had to be done. My therapist is always urging me to take steps in the right direction!

(Though admittedly he never mentioned which direction is the right one.)

I make it back to my bed, dragging my feet and leaning on the wall for support the whole way. It's not even five minutes in when I start to feel the effects. I probably should've eaten before taking my pills like the instructions say.

This is different though, I feel my connection to reality slip right through my jittery fingers. Like the shadows in my room are divulging their presence. Like they are reaching out their hands, ready to take hold of me, pull me in and make me one with unreality. An emptiness overcomes me, something I've truly never felt before. And it's the strangest thing, because simultaneously I've never felt more alive in my life.

Everything is really funny, I've never noticed how funny everything is up until now. Every little unorganized thought that pops up in my foggy, spacing-out head manages to get a strained laugh out of me.

Visual snow floods my peripheral, the colors of the world begin to become one with the static in my eyes.

Ah, I remembered what I was going to do in here. I need to call Mr. Plant. I need him to know that I'm going to get better, and how much I love him of course. Oh he'll never understand just how much I love him! I love him to death, haha! Literally.

I dial in the number. Moving has proven difficult, like trying to control a vehicle while tired and out of it, or in my case trying to control a vehicle through the most debilitating brain fog I've ever experienced. The disconnection from body and thought is almost calming.

The ringing of the phone is such a funny thing as well. I could lose myself in the methodical rhythm and loose vibrations running up my hands- oh look here he's answered!

"M‐r… plant! I ha-ve.. s o me thi.. ng to tell you."

I am fighting to get the words out. The weak sounds I manage to get out of my raspy throat come out in uneven tones with jarring stutters. Why is it so hard to speak?

"I took.. a lot o-f... my me-ds. Ha-ha!" He hangs up immediately.

Is he not happy for me? It wasn't long before I heard sirens closing in. Did he call the cops on me? That's no fair, no fair at all.

I've never been rolled into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher before but there's a first time for everything I suppose. It's too bad I'm too out of it to really experience it.

In the ambulance is when the first wave of nausea hits. I could barely even feel the EMT insert the IV or hear when they asked me questions.

———

The heart palpitations do their diligence distracting from the perforations left in my arm from the injections of various medications and the IV drip.

My respiration is just as irregular as my heart's chemical damaged rhythm. I feel like I'm drowning in this heavy air and it feels like the knots in my stomach have spread to my heart. This pain is so unbearable that I feel the need to crave it out of myself with a blade.

The world is doubling- no tripling, blurring, and mushing together all at once. I can feel the hum of the fluorescent hospital light buzz through my head. The scent of rubbing alcohol and sterilized equipment is evident throughout the cold medical facility.

By my own hands I've made my body a place unsuitable for living. I've "almost drugged myself to an early grave" as the hospital staff keep reminding me.

Speaking of body, I can no longer tell where I end and the wires of the EKG machine begin. Neuropathy has set in and nerve sensation has dulled for the most part, except in my stomach and heart where it hurts the most of course. But me and the machines they have me hooked up to might as well be one as long as they are taking the place of my dysfunctional body systems.

When they run the EKG scan, which they do about every half hour, they ask me to stay as still as I can, but it's hard to control the shaking when I don't know where it comes from in the first place. I'm by no means cold, or if I am I really can't feel it.

Have I mentioned the shaking? The tremors? I need to grow accustomed to the flavor of raw stomach acid soon, because that's all I've been throwing up anymore. It's all that's left.

The nausea begins to build all over again, like my stomach is writhing and contorting in my torso. I can feel the knots being tied. Over the next few minutes it builds and builds, I'd do anything to stop the encroaching bile now. The nausea completely overwhelms my senses right before another round of the most violent retching I've ever experienced. Accompanied by the most awful squelching and splattering sounds as it hits the rest of vomit already resting at the bottom of the bag.

I feel like I'm nearing being turned inside out everytime it happens. And I've filled yet another vomit bag. This isn't going to stop for days as the doctor told me. I doubt I'll get the luxury of unconsciousness.

The activated charcoal they gave me to drink is like this black sludge, "slow and steady now, don't drink so fast you throw it all up but not so slow that you succumb to the consequences of your own actions." Well maybe that's not what they really said but it's how it felt. I can tell the staff are judging me, I just know it! They think I deserve this.

At least the charcoal is cherry flavored.

My many eyes dart around the clean and pristine hospital room erratically, glancing off in every direction. I don't want anyone to look at me anymore. I can't stand the buzz of the lights and I can barely bring myself to move enough to blink. Or even move enough to breathe. I am much too dizzy and light-headed to even consider standing up. I'm so dizzy I could swear I'm phasing in and out of my body. The only thing keeping my consciousness bound to this body is the unending pain ancoring me in the reality of my situation.

It's growing increasingly unbearable.

Above all else I am losing my mind trying to figure out where I went wrong tonight. These chemicals were supposed to fix all these feelings. The pills were supposed to fix me. My psychiatrists and therapists all told me that I'm sick, disordered, and all I needed was to buy a few more medicines.

It must be my fault, it must be if hundreds of milligrams of mood stabilizers can't just make it better.

Tell me, anyone tell me, why I'm so useless that I can't even help myself?

Why am I so worthless that my medicine won't work on me?

I am almost entirely suspended in unreality. The prozac, olanzapine, mirtazapine, and everything other useless drug they gave me were meant to cure me. I've tried everything!

I've done the very most I can to try and make the bad thoughts quiet down. And are the thoughts that tell me "I'd be better dead", my own thoughts, or a symptom of one of my diagnoses?

Is the reason I'm like this the same reason I don't deserve love, or do I not deserve love because I'm like this? I want to get better. I swear I really do.

So why does no one believe me?

"Sir, you have a visitor." The nurse informs me in a harsh yet hush tone.

The words barely make it through my chemical head. I'm practically catatonic in this hospital bed. But when I do process them I pray to every divine that it is who I think it is.

Red petals on the top and bottom, two yellow petals, one pink and one blue. I was right!

I can't believe he came all the way down to this void to come see me. I really thought he'd stay home. I don't think anyone or anything could possibly understand the pure desperation I feel coursing through my veins. Right alongside the saline they're using to flush my IV of course.

My boyfriend entered my hospital room, #34 I believe, I saw when they rolled me in on the stretcher. Tears well up in my dried eyes, I couldn't feel enough of anything to cry while drugged out of my head but seeing him, well, I need him more than I have ever needed anyone before.

The look on his face when he saw me is one I didn't know he was capable of, pure horror even. I must look horrible stained with my own bile in these itchy hospital scrubs. He is quick to clasp my hand in his and rub along my knuckles and the back of my palm. Through the blurred vision and tears I can't even make him out anymore but I don't need to, I just need his touch. I need it so badly.

I have no depth perception at the moment, or hand eye coordination, and again everything is quite blurry so it was mostly unintentional when I pulled him in by the sweater. He leans into me and wraps his arms under my upper back, holding me against his chest.

He's warm against me, holding me gently in a hospital bed. I can't feel much at all other than the pain, his warmth was the only other sensation I could pin down in my head. It was such a harsh contrast from how I normally see him acting.

With him so close I can't tell where he ends and I begin this time. Even in one of my most painful moments, I feel a familiar comfort in my palpitating heart. He's the only thing keeping me from going entirely mad. He has no idea what I'd give to melt into him right here right now, become an amalgamated abomination of our half hazardly bonded flesh and bone. I'm afraid I'd ruin him and all his perfection with me and all my misshapen and grotesqueness.

I am especially disgusting as of now, making him worry about me like this. Can I not be horrible for just one second? Selfish, that's it. I must be selfish. I take another go at speaking a moment after we pull away. All I can muster is an apology that comes out more like a pathetic stammer through my tears.

The way his cold gaze met mine shook me. I've never seen real tears stream down his face. He looks so... distraught. Its like he's looking right through me and simultaneously looking directly at me. And on top of everything I've never seen him sign so frantically. He rarely signs at all.

"Please don't be sorry."

…

"Don't strain your voice."

"Just stay right there, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'll get you anything, I'd do anything for you."

I knew he cared about me, but I guess I never realized just how much. Or maybe I just forgot. How horrible am I?

Is it possible I'm actually worth something to him? Worth enough for him to call me an ambulance, worth enough for him to comfort me in the hospital bed, worth enough for him to cry over me?

Was I really worth staying with all this time?

My thoughts are interrupted by another round of retching, it seems those knots in my stomach weren't just anxiety. Mr. Plant holds my hand through it. I'm gonna be here a while, I know that. But he's here with me, and from the looks of it he isn't leaving my side anytime soon.

I'll make it out alive, not for myself, just for him. And for the possibility that maybe he needs me just as much as I need him. I wish my mind wasn't so scrambled, so I could find the words to express just how much I love him.

I love you Mr. Plant.

#overdose #vomiting #tw overdose #tw vomit #unnamed twomp au #twomp #ashur gharavi #argos twomp #the world of mr plant #twomrp #twomp fanfic #plargos #eye love you #I'm so sorry regular twomp enjoyerd #YOU JUST GOT [COMICALLY ANGSTY TWOMP AU]'D #Spotify

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demonsandmischief · 1 year

Text

-Chapter 7: The Avengers Therapist-

Bisexual Female Reader x The Avengers

Rated M for eventual sexual themes

1.4K Words

My Masterlist for other chapters. Please read disclaimer in Ch. 1

You turned on the lamp to your apartment, jumping when you noticed the small figure on your couch.

"Jeez, Wanda," you said. "How did you get in here?"

She flicked her wrist, revealing a short red spark that disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Tony gave me a key," she said, standing up. "How's your new job?"

"It's good," you said, washing your hands. "It's a non-profit for children. It's different from what I've done before."

Wanda nodded.

"How's therapy?"

"It's not for me."

She must've seen the look on your face because she sighed. "That doesn't mean I'm not still trying. I am, but I'm not comfortable with her, not like I am with you."

You smiled. "I'm always here to listen and help, unofficially of course. Besides, your evaluations are over now, right?"

"They were today," she murmured. "They still make us do a three week session after. We won't know what they decide until next week."

"How did it go?" you asked gently. Wanda stepped closer to you. You were backed into your kitchen island, but you didn't mind the lack of space.

"Horrible," she whispered. "I'm so tired of people prying in my life, acting like they understand. We've been scrutinized for so long. I just want to become invisible."

"Wanda," you tried to soothe, reaching up to cup her cheek. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how that feels."

"I think everyone else feels the same way," she mumbled. "I was hoping you would come back with me for the weekend."

"I haven't really heard from anybody since that night you all slept over," you admitted, dropping your hand. "I just assumed since I rejected the offer to come back that you all were done with me."

"That's not true," she whispered. "I don't think any of us communicate very well, and I guess I could have done better-"

"It's okay," you eased, not wanting her to take the blame. "I could've reached out myself. I just got really busy."

Wanda dropped her head, and your breath caught in your throat. Her lips brushed against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips.

She backed off, flashing you an innocent smile. "Maybe we could pick up some cupcakes on the way back to cheer everyone up."

You didn't take her as the teasing type, but you were wrong. There wasn't a single Avenger that wasn't a tease, except maybe Steve, but you knew you hadn't unlocked that side yet.

---

"Look who I found," Wanda announced as you both entered the main area of the compound. Everyone was gathered around the table, eating, looking pretty glum and exhausted. Tony was the only one not there.

Steve's features immediately brightened. "YN. You're back."

"I thought I would crash here for the weekend," you said, giving a tentative smile.

You didn't expect Bucky to be the one to stand up, pulling you to his chest in a tight embrace, and though he didn't say anything, you felt what he was conveying.

"I missed you, too, Buck," you whispered, muffled by his t-shirt, comforted by his familiar smell.

"Nasha solnyshka," Natasha said quietly with an endearing smile gracing her lips. She took a plate, filling it to the brim. "Come, eat."

You took the seat next to her with Wanda on the other end. The table was bigger than you remembered.

"What did you say?" you asked her.

"You're our little ray of sunshine," she said sincerely. "Sam cooked tonight. It's very good."

"I tried something new," Sam said. "It was my mom's recipe for my sister and I when we got sick."

"Today didn't go so well, did it?" you asked the whole table.

"It wasn't just today," Steve answered. "The last two weeks have been pure hell. They needed a lot of information at such short notice. We were meeting nearly everyday on top of all of our other work."

"I'm sorry," you said. You felt guilty for all of their suffering. Maybe if you had just stayed on-

"It's not your fault," Clint said next to you. He extended his arm over the back of your chair. "Not one bit."

"Besides," Nat added. "You are right. There's something special here, and we don't want to be limited by some contract."

You smiled.

Sam's food was delicious, as it always is.

Afterwards, you helped clean up the kitchen. Someone mentioned board games and hot chocolate, and you decided to find Tony while they set things up.

Tony was in his lab, of course.

"Woah," you mumbled as you entered. The place was a mess, but besides that, you had never been up close to an Iron Man suit before. There were so many mechanical stations set up. There were some machines doing different things, and Tony was right in the middle of it.

"I'm guessing this is what your brain looks like," you teased, dragging a stool next to him.

"Don't try to psycho-analyze me, doc," he teased back, dropping his intense concentration to focus on you.

You eyed the plate full of food sitting next to him.

"You didn't eat."

"I didn't feel up to it," he shrugged. He gave you a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, though. Today was rough, for all of us, but I've got this new feature for the suit I've been working on, and I can't do anything else until I get it done."

"Okay," you nodded. You took in his scruffy look. He was relaxed in his element. "Take a break and come play board games with us?"

He looked like he was going to say no, but you pouted a bit.

"I know for a fact that look works on Steve," he said.

"So far, I think it's worked on everyone," you grinned. "Including you."

He rolled his eyes, before his features softened. "I'm glad you're here. We've all missed having you around. I heard you got a new job. Congrats."

"Thank you," you said. "It's actually quite a commute from my apartment, but it's closer to here." You threw that last part in to see his reaction, and you weren't disappointed.

"You're still considering staying here?" he asked. His features were all lit up. He reached up to brush his knuckles across your cheek.

You whispered, "Of course. As long as the offer is still open."

"Anytime. This is your home now, too." He stood up, pressing his lips to your forehead.

You followed him up the stairs.

"Can I try on the suit?" you asked.

"Definitely not."

"What about the blasty hand thingys?"

He turned to give you a skeptical look. "I heard what you did with Barton's arrow."

"Maybe you would be a better teacher," you said just as you made it upstairs, and just as Clint walked by.

"Ouch," Clint said, giving you a fake hurt look. You muffled your laugh behind your hand.

Wanda, Nat, Steve, Sam and Bucky looked to be in the midst of a very intense game of Uno.

"Draw four," Sam told Bucky.

"Why do you have so many of those?" Bucky grumbled.

"I want in," Tony said, joining their circle.

"You have to wait. I'm getting ready to win," Nat said, placing down a red six and shouting Uno before anyone else could call her out on it.

You took a seat on the couch behind them, amused by their antics.

"Here," Clint said, handing you a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

You smiled in thanks. "Why aren't you playing?"

"Because Clint makes the best hot chocolate," Wanda answered.

"That's right," Clint nodded. "I have a secret ingredient."

"It's chocolate syrup," Wanda whispered to you.

"Apparently, the word secret means nothing to you."

"Everybody knows it, Clint," Nat said, taking a card from the stack with a huff.

Sam called Uno. It looked like Bucky could barely see all of his cards because he had so many. Steve seemed to be in deep concentration.

You glanced at the stack of board games. There were several to choose from, and they were all good ones like Monopoly, Sorry, Headbands, and Clue. You tried to pinpoint which of the Avengers would be the type to have them, and you narrowed it down to Sam or Clint.

------------------Author's Note-------------------------

Being with them felt good. You could be yourself. You were exactly right where you needed to be.

Here's Ch. 8

hi! happy wednesday! happy longer chapter day!

•updates are MWF

• you will only be tagged if you comment here

•tips, requests, reblogs are always welcome :)

•my wattpad

what would you all like to see happen? ive written up to ch 11 and i think i will start wrapping it up.

prepare for some drama ✨

@inluvwithfictionalwomen @pancakefan7529 @sugarrush-blush @royalmuffinsworld @ichala @cricket-reader @almosttoopizza @wtsseb @ananyar1bughead @dont-staple-waffles @lilylovelyxo @ghosting4boasting @lyracarvahall @meeksmusic83 @superchumchum @dracanah @elmontsmile @wolf-phoenix-lover @2234world

#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #tony stark x reader #sam wilson x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #wanda maximoff #poly! avengers #avengers imagine #avengers #bucky barnes

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aprilsadviceaskblog · 10 days

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Hi, I hope you're doing great !! I am sending this ask hoping to get PTSD-related advice. Also, I'd like to talk about the healing process rather than the trauma itself, so I won't describe it (I think trigger warnings are not necessary in that case ? Or maybe just the ones related to mental health- I'm not sure, sorry...)

So I've recently been diagnosed with PTSD (trauma happened 3 years ago). I know time heals all wounds but I'm still concerned : I see everyone getting progressively better, and it's been kind of the opposite for me...? Symptoms are increasing every day and I'm able to do less and less. I talked to others and they've confirmed that I am getting worse and there is very little progress, if any.

For the record, I've seen a therapist a couple times : he thinks my situation is concerning, but he said that he can't do anything more to help. I also practice self-care all on my own : I am bad at the exercices but I'm patient and understanding with myself. I also have boundaries i make clear for myself, and I have tried to communicate them to others too. I am trying to open up more and talk with my friends about everything (the trauma, how I feel, how they can help) because they insisted I should do that too

I guess what I want to ask is... what next ? I am doing everything that should be done- so why are things getting worse...? I'd be okay with no progress, but actively worsening ? What more am I supposed to do ? Is there something I am missing, some crucial step I forgot to take ? I am sorry if this is inappropriate or rude or triggering- I really don't want it to be, I am just hoping you have answers. I hope you have a good day

Hi anon,

I want to say that healing isn’t linear. It’s normal for stuff to go backwards sometimes.

I don’t know how to politely say this but I think you could use a new therapist if you’re still open to therapy. He doesn’t sound great for you. There is definitely more than can be done and if he’s saying he can’t, then he likely isn’t the therapist for you and can’t meet your needs.

I think a common misconception is that time heals all wounds. Time is a factor but we can’t just wait for the healing to happen. We have to actively do the work. And that takes time. But time itself does not usually heal the wounds.

I’m so glad you practice self care and it sounds like you have taken good steps. I do want to say that another myth is that “talking about it makes it better”. And while talking helps some people, for some people it can make it worse because they aren’t ready or it may just be neutral for them because that isn’t what they need. I definitely agree with telling people what you need and how they can help but it isn’t a rule that everyone must talk about their trauma to heal. I have known people pressured into sharing trauma details because “it helps” and it actually retraumatized them because they weren’t ready. If you are being pressured to talk about it but don’t feel ready, then please consider having boundaries about that too because that’s so valid.

This is from my website on a page about healing myths that I think explains what I’m trying to say a bit better.

“The best thing for people who were traumatized is to talk about it.” Traumatized people need to explore the memories and feel the feelings.

False. Talking about it can be a factor in acceptance and healing but this assumes that everyone responds to trauma and healing the same way. Sometimes people need more time to be ready to talk about trauma and forcing them to do it before they are ready can serve to re-traumatize them and make things worse. Some people might never be ready to talk about it. Some people are ready to talk about it, but it isn’t helpful to them and they don’t want to and that’s okay, too. Pushing the belief that traumatized people have to talk about stuff to heal creates an idea that there is some sort of rulebook to healing from trauma and there isn’t. It might push unrealistic expectations onto someone who then feels like they’re doing something wrong because they are not “healing” the right way. The truth is, there is no “right” and perfect way to heal. Everyone is different and what works for someone may not necessarily work for something else. At the end of the day, you should be asking someone dealing with trauma what they need and not telling them what they need.”

My long point here is that you aren’t failing because certain things aren’t working for you. You are a unique individual with unique needs.

If I were you, I’d take a look at the symptoms that are most distressing to me and start there in trying to manage them. If you want to write back in with what they are, I might be able to send some resources your way. But keep in mind, there is no one way and you might have to try a few different things.

Things aren’t hopeless even if they might seem this way. You aren’t beyond help or healing.

#april answers

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bettsfic · 6 months

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“for so many years i had it in my head that if a process is harder, the result is better. it was that mentality that kept me in a job i hated for a long time. it's hard and i don't like it, therefore it's more serious and respectable. it was unconscionable to me to think that something fun and easy could result in something good.”

I do this^ and the fact that someone else could explain it and relate is so eye opening. I grew up with this mindset. Like I wasn’t smart or good enough unless I was struggling unless it was hard. If it was hard and I got something done, then I was a success. Never treated myself like it but that was my philosophy. If something was easy it was stupid and not worth doing. This causes a lot of issues.

I was wondering, if you’re comfortable. Can you talk more about this? And how you got out of this mindset? I’ve noticed that even in my writing I do this and not just in the work aspects of my life.

i think it comes from a place of learned hatred. in the same way learned helplessness develops when a person spends a significant amount of time in an environment where they have no control of or agency over anything, learned hatred is growing up in an environment where you are simply not allowed to exist as you are and you must change or adapt in order to survive.

when you're in a place where you're constantly made aware of your weaknesses and focus only on how to strengthen them, your awareness of your strengths (and the strengths themselves) atrophy. i think all the time about how in a different environment, at 18 it would have been so evident to me that i wanted to be a teacher. and i would have gone to college for teaching and then gotten a job teaching elementary school english or maybe even kindergarten. like if just one person said, "hey you've got real Bob Ross vibes" maybe my life would be completely different. but no, i had it in my head that obviously everyone wanted to become an elementary school teacher, so i couldn't be one, i had to do something no one wants to do, and i became a banker.

i took an IQ test last year, and i know IQ is bullshit, but i tested into like the 99th percentile of verbal intelligence. that's intelligence i've always had but didn't do anything with until i was 24, and because i didn't foster it by allowing myself creativity or really any self expression, my writing skills when i started writing were, well, bad. when i look at my earliest work from about 9 years ago, i can see that i was writing below the level i currently teach. at 24. with a bachelor's degree, having graduated magna cum laude. maybe i'm being hard on myself, but my point is that i was no prodigy. i could've been a gifted kid but i wasn't. i was too busy being dragged onto a baseball field to work on my terrible hand-eye coordination. i entered adulthood believing my work in this world was to deprive myself of happiness and pride myself in misery.

the attitude that changed my perspective was refusal. i refuse to suffer. that means i do everything in my means to alleviate any pain i experience--mentally, emotionally, and physically. and by "pain" i don't mean sadness, because allowing yourself to feel sadness when sadness is due is healthy, but things like abject dread, hating the idea of waking up every morning, things that can destroy you if you hold onto them for long enough. you have to let them go. you can't be complacent to your own pain anymore. when you get a headache, you take ibuprofen. when you come back up from a bad bout of depression, you drag your ass to the doctor to get meds and maybe therapy so it doesn't happen again. when you want something, you give it to yourself.

it's hard. it's hard because there's a benefit in bringing up your weaknesses. i pitched a perfect game in softball when i was a teenager. i'm more coordinated than i would have been if my dad hadn't forced me into every possible sport. working at a bank taught me much needed professionalism and organizational skills, and gave me stability during a time the economy wasn't stable at all. but on focusing on those things, i neglected to foster the stuff about me that was already pretty good.

you can strengthen your weaknesses, but you can also strengthen your strengths. your weaknesses do not have to be dragged up to the same level as your strengths. i made an okay banker. i was a pretty good pitcher. but i'm a great teacher. it took me years to learn finance and softball, but it took me one semester to get my bearings in front of a classroom. i'm a patient and nonjudgmental person. i love learning and so by definition i love explaining. i have a natural "yes, and" disposition. i respect everyone and take their work in this world seriously. i come from a long line of teachers. and yet somehow, despite all this, i had no fucking clue i was a teacher.

i love writing, but i'm not talented, not in the way i've seen talent in some of my students. having a high verbal intelligence only speeds up the skill leveling. and so writing is a side effect. writing is the subject i know well enough to teach at a university or masterclass level. writing allows me to process my own emotions and express myself creatively. writing feels good and it's fun. but teaching is my work.

who you are is okay to be. without trying, without any effort at all, there's something you're already great at. so keep your weaknesses weak and strengthen your strengths. refuse suffering. seek joy.

#writing advice

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fanficwritinggirl · 4 months

Text

My Montana (Cole Walter Fanfic)

Chapter 4 The visitor

"So Josie, how have you been?" the older woman sat across from her, pen in hand, book in lap. It takes a minute to reply, her nail polish becoming all of a sudden interesting.

"I've been good. You know, just been busy with school and all," her eyes don't meet the women, keeping her focus on picking the nail polish off.

"I'm assuming that's why it has been a few weeks since you have come for a session," the question is simple, all she had to do was say, and she was for some reason finding that hard to say. Her head moves up and down and she looks up and gives the woman a small smile before looking down again.

"Has there been something bothering you?" she shakes her head. The woman leans back in her chair and sighs.

"Josie, you have been coming to see me for years. You know that you can talk to me," Josie bites her lips and takes a deep breath.

"Is it normal to still have them? The nightmares. Because it has been 8 years and I am still waking up from them, multiple times a week. When does it stop? How do I make them stop?" her voice cracks and she bites down on her tongue to stop the tears threatening her eyes. The older woman looks at her, her eyebrows frowned together and she sighs.

"Everyone deals with trauma differently Josie. Some people never get over it, it's something that they always have to deal with and it never seems to stop. There usually isn't much they can do. But there is only one thing that i have seen that work," Josie looks up at the woman and scoffs.

"And what's that?"

"Find what makes you happy, cling onto it. Don't hold back on happiness because you are scared of losing it. Sometimes you have to embrace the fear in order to be happy."

Josie walks out of the building, covering her head with her jacket as the rain pours down on her. Sprinting across the car park, she flings open the door and catapults herself into the seat, slamming the door behind her. Hattie chuckles as she takes in her appearance.

"Bet you werent expecting that," she jokes, causing Hattie to shake her head.

"Definitely not what I needed," she buckles herself into the seat and leans her head back and sighs.

"So how was therapy?" Hattie asks slowly, not wanting to ask too much, she treads carefully. Josie shakes her head and lets out a breath before turning to her aunt.

"Exhausting, like it always is. You know" she turns fully in her seat and leans on the armrest in the middle. "I have been going to see June for 8 years, and just as i think i have her completely worked out, she goes and says some completely unexpected shit." Hattie chuckles.

"Sweetie, she is the therapist, she is meant to be figuring you out to help you, not the other way round," Hattie turns the key in the ignition, bringing the car to the lift and driving forward. Josie turns in her seat facing forward.

"I know, but it's fun. I mean we can't just focus on me all the time. I need to put my head somewhere else for a little bit when I'm with her," Hattie gives a soft hum in acknowledgement but keeping herself focused on the road.

"Do you feel better," Hattie asks her, letting her eyes fall to Josie for a split second. Josie shrugs.

"I mean... kinda. I don't know, she just said some stuff that I'm trying to make sense of."

"And what's that?"

"She suggested that I need to let myself be happy. Maybe being happy will help suppress the nightmares. Which dont get it," she turns her head and looks outside the car at the town as it passes by.

"And what aren't you understanding?" Hattie asks and Josie turns her eyebrows up.

"I mean, I am happy. I am doing okay in school. I have you, Danny, the rest of the boys. How can i not be happy," she expresses. Hattie purses her lips and nods.

"Yeah, I agree. But maybe, there is part of you that wants more. And it's okay if there is. There's nothing wrong with wanting more, even though some people make you feel like you are being selfish for wanting those things," Josie sighs, putting her hands on her forehead.

"I don't know. Sometimes I just wish that my head would let me get on with my life and stop tormenting me," she flops down in her seat a little and Hattie gives her a simple smile and nods her head.

"I know, it's hard. So how about I drop you home before I go back to work. You are not going to miss much if you take the day off of school. I know that Miss Jacobs will understand," Josie looks over at her aunt and allows her lips to curl up a little bit.

"Thank Aunt Hat."

Turns out agreeing to stay at home was the worst thing that she could have done. She sat leaning against her headboard, guitar placed in her lap as she strummed the strings quietly, trying to think about anything other than what June said. This is why she hates going to therapy, why she asked Aunt Hat to let her take a break from therapy for a while because everytime June would say something that would cause her to go into her head and start questioning her life.

Humming, she changes key and she plays the song gold rush by Taylor Swift, letting her eyes trail around her room as she mutters the lyrics. Her room was painted with an off white color, besides the wall behind her bed which was painted a burnt orange. A few posters of her favorite singers were on the wall next to the door. A white desk sat in the corner of the room, a mix of music sheets and homeworks littered it. Polaroids were strung up with fairy lights above it, polaroids of her and Danny, Aunt Hattie, the other walter boys, some taken back when she first came here, now slightly faded with the sun that beams into her room most day. Though that was not a problem today.

Sighing, she lets her fingers leave the guitar, slipping it off of her lap and next to the bed and sliding down the cushions until she was laying, pretty much flat on her back staring at the ceiling. Little, plastic stars decorated the ceiling, once upon a time they had the ability to glow in the dark but after being up there for so many years they have lost their magic. Josie remembers the day when her and Aunt Hat spent hours putting them on.

It was one of the first few weeks of her living there, she had woken up most mornings, screaming from the nightmares, remembering the blood. Aunt Hat would come in, taking her into her arms and consoling her as best she could but they kept happening, so that was when she started to see June. She suggested that they put something in her room that will help distract her, so that when she wakes up from nightmares that she could focus on them and hopefully it should help her realize that they were merely bad memories and that she was past that. And that's when the idea of the glow in the dark stars came about.

Aunt Hat had ordered them online and was like a kid and christmas the day they arrived, so excited to put them up with Josie. They spent most of the day putting them up and at night when it became dark, they both lay on her bed looking up as they lit the room, and Josie felt a sense of calm from them. After that the nightmares became less and less frequent, and though they didn't completely go away, they were not as big of a problem anymore. Until the last few months, where for some reason they were becoming worse and more frequent. Why? Josie didn't know.

Lying down, for what feels like forever, she feels her eyes start to flutter shut, sleep calling to her, her body starts to feel heavy, her muscles letting go of all of her problems. Sleep was just in her grasp when it was ripped away by the knocking on the door. Her muscles tense up again, her eyes now wide open, all calls of sleep silenced. Groaning, she lifts herself off of her bed and she stomps down the stairs, ready to tell off whoever it was who decided that they had the right to disturb her sleep.

Reaching the door, she takes the handle in her hand in a tight grip and rips it open coming face to face with the person on the other side of the door in a flash.

"What," she bites out, regretting the way she said it as soon as it leaves her lips. Cole stands on the other side of the door, his face changing to shock at her outburst. He puts his hands out to her in surrender, a smile playing on his lips.

"Wow, okay. Hey Montana. Lovely to see you on this fine day; well not really fine day," he says, a slight joking tone in his voice as he tries to lighten the situation. Josie, feeling horrible about her action, sighs and puts a hand on her head.

"I'm sorry Cole, I shouldn't have acted like that. I was just surprised that anyone came around today," she apologized, looking him in the eyes. Cole puts his hands down and smirks at her.

"It's cool," Josie pulls her hand off of her head and crosses her arms around herself as his graze is on her.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?" she asks, confused. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket and shrugs at her.

"Nothing really important is happening there. Shouldn't you be at school?" he asks, his eyebrows raise a tiny bit.

"I had a migraine."

"You don't still have a migraine do you? I can get you something if you need," Cole asks, the smirk leaving his face, concern plasters his face. Josie can't help but blush at how quickly he became concerned for her. She offers him a smile and shakes her head.

"No, I'm fine , thank you. I just went back to sleep, woke up completely fine," Coles face relaxes, all of the concern leaving his body as he lets out a breath.

"That's good," he says nodding at her, his head leaning down a little avoiding her gaze. They stand there in silence for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say.

"Do you want to come in?" Josie says boldly. Cole lifts his head and his eyes meeting hers, his lips turn up.

"Yeah, I would love that," Josie opens the door and lets him walk past her and into the house. She closes the door and turns around and faces him as he looks around him, taking in everything.

"You know, i can't remember the last time i was in your house," he tells her, she chuckles.

"I think the last time you were in here was for my 12th birthday. You all came over and the house wasn't big enough for all of us, so Aunt Hat and Katherine agreed that they would host my birthday at your house from then on," Cole silently chuckles, remembering that day.

"I remember. You, me and Danny ended up sitting outside when we were eating the cake, wanting to get some peace and quiet from the rest of the kids," Josie giggles.

"It was chaotic."

"It's always chaotic with us. Some more than others."

"Not always," Josie says, Cole looks at her, shocked at her understanding what he was insinuating. One side of Josie's lip lifts up in a smile and Cole can feel himself warm up.

"It's pretty cold in here," he tells her, rubbing his hands up his arms. Josie grows and turns around, walking down the hall.

"I'll put the heat on," she calls to him as she pushes some of the buttons. Cole looks around the corner as she does it. Turning around, she sees Cole looking at her and she smiles walking towards him. "It'll take a bit for the house to heat up, so how about some hot chocolate?" And how could Cole turn down that offer?

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