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geertsenodgaard48 · 1 year

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phrobysha · 1 year

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Truth

To have always known something wasn't quite right and to pass it on as the world is how my entire life had long revolved. It wasn't until 8 months ago that everything came tumbling down and it was me and not the world. Psychosis is something I'd never heard of and Infact I still can't figure out what unfolded except for revelation of displaced thoughts and time and space. Mental health issues were something I felt distant from in regards to knowledge and experience as I assumed life merely was just one big challenge and with it came ups and downs. But on the eve of my breakdown, I knew something wasn't quite right as in that moment reality became nothing but a struggle to maintain and sustain as tangible. All begun to appear and sound as though I'd crossed into another state of mind. Hearing things, seeing things and feeling things is all I can remember and at first I was adamant it was nothing but spiritual entanglement but soon after I realized nothing about the whole ordeal was close to normal or anything remotely fathomable.

My wife and children witnessed me at the lowest of my existence and it frightened them even more that I was scared even though convinced I was in control of what I did not know nor understand. When the first episode occurred, I had no idea of what had just happened and I totally blanked it out but when the second episode happened, it was then that I knew I had to seek help as I was overwhelmed and thoroughly mind boggled to point of confusion. The month of November 2016 leading up to the new year is when everything took a turn for the worst as I begun to medicate a diagnosis I'd never anticipated. I resorted to exercise of self meditation and other techniques such as tai-chi which helped a great deal in creating a balance between reality and virtuality and a sense of rationality remained concentration so as to eliminate any and all conflict of self.

Like many who have had the misfortune of suffering mental derailment, I was faced with question as to why this had happened to me and what it all meant. Having considered myself a person of sound mind my entire life, I soon came to realize that there was nothing I could have done to avert this occurrence as am a firm believer in everything happens for a reason and it is this very concept of relation that I relay an eternal residence of external transferability that there is something greater than ourselves that manifests itself to correlate a shift in thought process. A lot had unfolded in my life that caused one to conceal emotions that inevitably led to an out burst of projection caused by loss of family which was strained by shortened and minimal rest due to my sleep pattern in the four years leading up to this abnormality of mental configuration whilst in university. It was a matter of time I presume that this would have happened anyway so in so acceptance I proceeded with dealing with my emotional collapse and effectively finding a measure of peace within me.

Having heard and read on a many cases of psychosis now, I have come round to innerstanding and appreciating my own experience given how extreme some individuals have had it. It is a consistent and ongoing struggle and challenge to refrain from negativity as a root source of self absorption and positivity is something I have learnt and still mastering to maintain and sustain as a way of life. I will inform that there are details of this whole experience that have been left out but in galvanization I feel I should mention that sleep deprivation did play a major role in the evolvement of the diagnosis of psychosis and in all simulation of ordeal, one had lost touch of reality but now in progressive recovery of neural re-connectivity and sensory nerve alignment, I have gladly overcome the worst of it and I too have reserved my sense of self expression. There are however moments when nature of events trigger a resurgence of emotions that tend to cause a strain to the mind but I have managed to captivate a mechanism of operation that reasserts my control of thought process.

#simulation #life stories

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redpandarascal · 4 years

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tw for antisemitism, in the form of explicit praise of the nazis and hitler.

I’d like everyone to read this quote, without knowing the source of it, and decide how you feel about it.

Okay, you’ve read the quote? You hate whoever said this? the source is notable celebrity pedophile, David Bowie. (Lori Mattix is still alive!!! She’s a living person who Bowie took advantage of as a child! She’s a flesh and blood human being and she’s alive and she matters more than David Bowie’s pedophile corpse!)

no, “cocaine psychosis” does not make you a nazi. I’ve done cocaine. It made me try to cut in a line and I still feel guilty about it. I talked frantically and enthusiastically about food network. I’m not saying I reccomend cocaine, but I am saying “cocaine is not a magic pill that turns you into a Nazi.” Separately, I’ve had a psychotic break. I did not start saying “the Nazis had the right idea” at any point during that or in the state of pre psychosis leading up to that.

Idk how to end this I just don’t want to hear about Bowie if it’s not part of a conversation about how people will dress up in the ideology of progress in order to get away with being the biggest scumbags, and how people will be too invested in the idea of the progress they represent to acknowlege that someone they looked up to was a scumbag.

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bondsmagii · 3 years

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Chris Chan has got to be one of the most documented people in the internet. I can't imagine having almost every detail of my life for the whole world to see even though I haven't done horrible things like Chris has

god I know right. the idea of everything being that documented... it's honestly eerie as hell. no matter what Chris Chan does or tries, it's all being watched and documented and analysed and man. to think she could have avoided all this if she had just unplugged the internet in like, 2007.

right now I'm still in the early stages, like 17 videos in or so. at the moment I just feel desperately sorry for her. I'm not sure what fucked up shit she might do going forward, and of course I know about the incest charges which is yikes all on its own, but at the moment I can't help but feel desperately sorry for her. like, it's funny in a car crash way, but it's also really not funny at all. right now she's just this autistic young adult living with two abusive parents, who's being harassed by dozens of people online. because of her autism she's incapable of being able to identify trolls until it's far too late, and then more trolls befriend her and she falls for the exact same tricks again because she's inherently too trusting and can't tell when people are being sarcastic or when they're actually ridiculing her. at the moment her closest friend is a girl named Kacey, who's trying to give Chris "advice" to better her life, and on the surface it's all solid advice -- get a job, exercise more, eat healthier, etc -- but it's all designed to set Chris up for more ridicule, and no matter what progress Chris reports, Kacey twists it and uses it to ridicule her and trash her confidence. earlier on I listened to a phone call recording where Chris's mother was caught berating Chris and emotionally manipulating her in the background, and when Chris got back on the line to Kacey, Kacey took Chris's mother's side and started also berating Chris for the same thing. it's honestly so fucked up -- like underneath all the inherent hilarity that comes from a situation so fucking weird, it's impossible to ignore the fact that this is an account of the long-term emotional abuse of a deeply vulnerable adult. whatever Chris might have done in the future, I firmly believe that there's a strong case to be made for the fact she was driven to this point. the constant trolling and the fact that she cannot trust anybody in her life to be who they say they are has created a deep rift between Chris and reality, and I wouldn't be surprised if she's been driven to honest to god clinical psychosis because of all the stress and torment.

if it had just been brief -- a spate of the earlier trolling at the beginning, where they teased her a bit about Sonichu and convinced her she was in a chat with Billy Mays or whatever, that would have been fine. everyone was getting trolled like that back in the day. but at some point it veered away from trolling and went into literal torture. like, I'm going to go under the cut here because this got suddenly serious on an ask that's pretty casual (sorry about that), but it's been bothering me since I saw it and I have to mention it now. sincere warning for anyone reading my Chris Chan documentary chronicles just for the lighter parts, because in my mind what I'm about to discuss is literal, actual torture of a disabled person.

the other day I watched the video where the trolls hacked into Chris's PlayStation account, which had a lot of games and progress she was obviously proud of. being autistic, she's obviously much more attached than these trolls can appreciate -- video games are clearly one of her special interests, and she understandably gets very distressed when the trolls threaten to sell the account. there's a whole bunch of convoluted stuff that happens, but the main event is that they use the leverage of the account to get Chris into doing shit to "win" it back. they end up making her cut her Sonichu medallion (a comfort item that she wears constantly) into four pieces, and stick the pieces up her ass. on video.

the video isn't shown on YouTube, obviously, but the audio is. in it, the trolls can be heard urging her on, insisting she stick it properly up there ("until I can't see it anymore", is how one of them put it). also captured on the audio is Chris, making sounds of pain and also apparently crying, which she is then ridiculed for.

I mean. I was genuinely disturbed by this, as I'm sure most people with even a smidgen of a conscience would be. this is sexual abuse. this is torture. this is not trolling, this is not doing something "for the lulz". this is a small group of genuine psychopaths banding together long after the regular trolling is done, to torture a person who is incapable of defending herself and who has no responsible adult in her life to protect her from people like this. this shit, when compared to legitimate harmless trolling like Liquid Chris, who winds Chris up but never actively harms her (at least to what I've seen so far) and is so ridiculous that everybody can see through it (even Chris herself, who knows that Liquid Chris is a faker and isn't being deceived by Liquid Chris in any way), is night and day. Liquid Chris is genuine trolling, the kind that aims to get you mad and then goes no further. what these other people are doing is abuse and torture. they're clearly a core group of individuals who realised they had an easy target and decided to take advantage of it, and they're all honest to god sociopaths. they should face charges for this shit.

I apologise for getting serious on this post, but I need to be honest here. as much as I'm enjoying the drama and the more ridiculous and admittedly hilarious bits of this story, between all the tamer pieces of legitimate trolling is a serious case of ableism. vulnerable adults like Chris are abused like this every day, and the fact that this can be so well-documented online and still nobody did anything to help her is absolutely astounding. because Chris is "cringe", everybody seemed to collectively decide that she deserved this treatment, when really at the end of the day she began as an autistic teenager who was super passionate about her OC and wanted to upload comics about him online. like. that was her only crime, and it ended like this.

just... god damn.

#anon #asks #chriscourse

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borderlineby-madonna · 2 years

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Update from my downwards spiral last night:

I am okay. I know last night was bad and I guess in my mind my logic and justification for self harming was “I’m at a boiling point and I need/want to let myself hit rock bottom so there’s no way to go but up”. I know it’s still unhealthy, and I do regret it. I looked back at my texts post this morning and experienced a lot of shame. I looked at my thigh this morning and thought “was I in psychosis last night??? Literally what the fuck is wrong with me??”. The whole entire top of my right thigh is covered in cuts and scratches. I had to make a fucking collage of bandaids to cover all the wounds. It’s fucking shameful. I’m trying not to be so hard on myself because I know bpd is hard and relapsing doesn’t erase all on the progress I’ve made in treatment, but it does make me really fucking sad that I got to the point where I stopped caring about my well-being enough to do it. It takes a lot for me to get to that place. I have to be truly apathetic and numb. I chose to drink heavily purposefully to lower my decision making skills bc I wanted to cut but I know I wouldn’t make the choice to do it sober bc of the guilt and that I rationally know it’s not worth it.

The only way to go from here is up. I’m gonna take charge and get help, and I’m gonna people help me and care for me no matter how uncomfortable it feels. I need fucking help and care.

#bpd #borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #recovery

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page-doctor-bekker · 3 years

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Rooftop - Part 1 (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) hey! i have a long ass one-shot and i kinda of want to make it lead off a lil bit of a cliffhanger so i've got part one here for you. this takes place a few days after this oneshot

Sarah grabs her white coat from her desk chair, and stares at the embroidery.

Sarah Reese, MD

Dept. of Psychiatry

She sighed, before retreating to the bathroom to tuck and dress. Even after her orchiectomy, tucking was still mildly uncomfortable. At least she had graduated from using tape to using a gaff, which was much more comfortable and easy to take off at the end of the day.

Once she was dressed, clad in a pair of relaxed, navy blue dress pants and a pale pink button-down shirt speckled with cartoonish images of various types of fruit, she grabbed her lab coat, and shrugged it on.

There was a mirror on her closet door, and she caught a glimpse of herself in it. She gulped, and stood in front of it, staring herself down.

She pressed the pad of her thumb against her jawline, and dragged her skin around in a feeble attempt to soften it. Her jawline led her to her chin, the cleft in it causing a pang of dysphoria in her stomach. She puckered her lips, trying to make them look fuller, but that only exacerbated her chin. She sighed, and gave up. It is what it is.

She let her hand fall to her side, and fiddled with her coat. After a moment, she scowled at herself.

“Move on, Sarah, just move on,” She mumbled to herself, taking a hair tie from her wrist and putting her hair up into an unintentionally neat bun. No matter how hard she tried, she could never succeed in creating a messy one. That required more finesse than she had.

She smiled at herself, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I am a good doctor,” She affirmed, “A good doctor who made a mistake,” She quoted Dr. Charles, the thought of him filling her with calm.

“And Ava,” She gave herself a confident look, “Is not worth my time. I don’t even like her anyways.”

She paused for a moment.

“Because I don’t like women,” She shrugged, “And someday I will meet a man who loves me for me.”

“Don’t give me that look,” She snapped at herself, “Just because I’m not cis doesn’t mean I can’t be straight.”

“And I deserve better than Ava anyways,” She opened her mouth, then closed it, like a fish. She opened it again, “Someone better who is a man. I will find the man for me. The only reason I think I like Ava is because I haven’t found the man for me. That’s okay. I’m only 26. Some people don’t get married until after 30.”

“I am a confident woman,” She declared, “A confident straight woman.”

She started to walk away, but she looked back.

“And i’m a good doctor,” She said, sharply.

She saw Dr. Charles outside the hospital, and he waved her over. She ran to catch up with him, out of breath by the time she arrived, “Hello Dr. Charles,” She tried to catch her breath, thinking about how insane she must look right now.

“Dr. Reese,” He greeted with a nod, “How was your break?”

“It was very good,” She announced, “I feel like I am making progress with myself. I am a good doctor! What happened was a mistake, and it doesn’t define my clinical skills.”

He looked at her skeptically, “Good.. Good,” He gave a smile, “In my experience, all you really need after a mistake is to treat a few patients successfully, so I’ve volunteered you to be in the ED this morning.”

Her heart sank.

“And then, when Maggie dismisses you for lunch, come see me in my office and we can chat about what you did differently today,”

Sarah nodded, stuffing her hands in her pockets so she could fidget discreetly. If he knew I’m anxious, he might send me home again.

He gave her a pat on the back, “Holler if you need me. I’m just a page away.”

He left her at the doors to the ED and she took a deep breath, and smiled at the big red letters.

“Help! I need help!”

Go time.

She ran towards the direction of the voice, a large man in his mid-40s who was carrying a young girl, maybe 5 years old, in a bridal-style position.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Reese, I’m going to help you, tell me about your daughter,” She prompted, pressing two fingers onto the girl’s neck while awkwardly walking with the man.

“Ah, she’s my niece, Miranda Maxwell,” He corrected, “Uh, she’s almost six, she’s got a.. uh… Heart condition? She was born with it. Her mom said she sees a doctor here uh… Dr… Dr… Beaker? Brekker?”

“Dr. Bekker?” The name made Sarah’s heart flutter.

“Yes, that’s the one. Anyways, she collapsed today, and says her chest hurts, and she’s a bit blue around her lips and nails.”

Dr. Reese took Miranda from the man, and took a light jog into the emergency department. The man took off after her. Upon entering the ED, she called to Maggie, “Five years old with a congenital heart condition, chest pain, trouble breathing, rapid pulse, blue lips and nails, where do you want me?”

“Treatment five.”

Dr. Reese set the girl down on the bed and Monique rushed to start an IV, “Let’s get her on the monitors, and get her changed into a gown,” Sarah instructed, “And Maggie?”

Maggie looked up from where she was conversing with the girl’s uncle.

“Page Dr. Bekker, Miranda is a patient of her’s, and get Miranda’s parents here as soon as possible,” She looked back towards the girl, “Miranda? My name is Dr. Reese, I’m going to help you feel better.”

“It hurts,” She cried, clutching at her chest.

“I know, I know, we’re going to figure out why,” Dr. Reese cooed softly, before taking on a more serious tone with Monique, “Get a CBC, BMP, urinalysis, 12-lead EKG, and get her on oxygen until Dr. Bekk-”

“Talking about me?” Dr. Bekker startled Dr. Reese, “My ears were itching. Miranda, did you miss me? Is that why you’re back so soon?”

Miranda giggled through the pain at that, and Dr. Bekker smiled. Dr. Reese almost allowed herself to feel endeared by the rare display of kindness, but quickly regained composure.

“Maggie, where are we with her parents?”

“They’re on their way, but they said to do whatever it takes to help Miranda,” Maggie called back, and Dr. Bekker nodded.

“What seems to be the problem, Mindy?” Dr. Bekker pulled her stethoscope off of her neck, and pressed the drum to Miranda’s chest, and listened thoughtfully.

“I felt weird and then fell down. My chest hurts real bad,” She complained, “I can’t breathe.”

“Let’s get an echocardiogram,” Dr. Bekker noted to Monique, who nodded, and started to set up the ultrasound machine, “Does it hurt more when you breathe?”

Miranda shook her head.

She’s so gentle with her.

Sarah smiled.

“Okay, I’m going to look at your heart with this special tool, you’ve done this before,” Dr. Bekker assured, before squeezing the gel onto the girl’s chest and pressing the ultrasound wand down.

She can be gentle. And kind.

“Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was shocked back to reality by Ava, who was snapping her fingers at her, “Dr. Reese? What tests did you order?”

“Uh… CBC, BMP, urinalysis, and a 12-lead-EKG?” She trembled, her voice seeming more questioning than answering.

“Okay,” She said quietly, focused on the ultrasound.

A few minutes of quiet later, Dr. Bekker put the wand away, “Clean her up, and,” Dr. Bekker looked back at Miranda, “And if I remember correctly, your popsicle of choice is cherry?” She winked at Miranda, removed her gloves, and helped herself to hand sanitizer off the wall. Dr. Reese nodded at Monique, who was wiping the girl off, and left as well.

“Um…” Dr. Reese started, “What do you think?”

“Transfer her up to the PICU and let me know when her parents get here,” Dr. Bekker told Maggie, before turning to Dr. Reese, “I think she’s in congestive heart failure,” She shrugged, “Did you see the ultrasound? She has a complete atrioventricular septal defect, she’s been my patient for the past year, we knew this was coming.”

“Why didn’t you operate earlier?”

“Her parents wanted to wait,” Ava shrugged and rolled her eyes, “Nobody wants to put their four year old daughter through open heart surgery. But now,” She gestured back towards the room, “Their five year old daughter is going to go through open heart surgery today.”

“Well is she going to be okay?”

“If I can get her in for- I’m sorry,” She interrupted herself, “Why do you care?”

“She’s…” Sarah balled part of her coat up in her hand, “She’s my patient, I just-”

“Not anymore she’s not,” Ava huffed, “Thanks for not killing her. Wish I could say the same for Mr. Nearling.”

Ava flounced off.

Sarah watched her leave, and turned to Maggie, who pointed at treatment 1.

“Ear infection.”

Dr. Reese nodded, grabbing the tablet the charge nurse was holding out, and heading to treatment 1.

By lunch, she had treated three ear infections, a gunshot wound, a miscarriage, and sent a psychosis patient up to the psych ward. By the time Maggie sent her off for her lunch break, she had practically forgotten about Ava.

Dr. Charles was waiting for her when she opened the door to see him, and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, “How was it?”

“Uh, good,” She sat across from him, and he pulled out his own lunch while she unpacked hers, “I saw Dr. Bekker.”

“Oh? How was that?”

Sarah tapped her foot, “One of her CHD patients came in, um…” She took a bite of her sandwich, “I ordered some tests for her. She was snarky about it when I talked to her afterwards though.”

Dr. Charles shrugged, “Well, Ava will always be Ava, regardless of-”

“She said, um… She thanked me for not killing the patient and said she wished she could say the same for Mr. Nearling.”

He sighed, and nodded, “Well, it’s only been a few days. She’ll get over it. You guys were good friends before, you’ll be good friends after a while..”

“Good friends?” She questioned, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, y’know,” He motioned back and forth with his hands, “You’d chat, you seemed to be happy when you saw her, she teased you a bit. All of Ava’s telltale friendship signs.”

Sarah was quiet, instead choosing to take a bite of her sandwich and chew thoughtfully.

“Tell me, Sarah, do you like Ava?”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, carefully.

“Like… You know, are you interested in her? Romantically?”

Sarah choked on her sandwich, coughing a few times.

“Remember to chew, Dr. Reese,” Dr. Charles reprimanded.

“I don’t like her,” Sarah defended, “I don’t care about her. I deserve better. If I still liked her after she talked to me like that, even if I liked her in the first place, I’d be crazy.”

Dr. Charles shrugged, taking a bite of his salad.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

“The shrug.”

“What do you think it means?”

“Did you do Yolanda’s intake?”

“Who?”

Sarah nodded, stuffing her half-eaten lunch back into the bag and tossing it in the trash.

“Sarah, you haven’t finished your lunch-”

“Not hungry, I’ll see you around,” Sarah started to leave, but Dr. Charles stopped her.

“I’m supposed to pass a note on for you.”

(A/N) come back tomorrow for pt 2 lol

#chicago med #transfemme!sarah #my au #honestly i dont like this but some of the contextual stuff is necessary #whatever

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spiritualnightmoon · 3 years

Text

Psychotic: Part 1

“Mom!”Young William Grossman exclaimed as he desperately opened the door of the apartment, looking around with great concern. It did not take long to feel a completely metallic smell in the environment, causing his skin to crawl when he noticed that the floor was full of blood, which formed a somewhat disproportionate path to the kitchen that was with the door closed.

>> Please ... God, please let her not have fallen into his clutches ... << He thought as he swallowed a bit of saliva and a cold sweat showed on his forehead.

In complete silence, he took out the knife he had decided to carry since that madness had started, from his pocket had a rather shaky pulse, beginning to walk stealthily.

His heart was pounding, was that last video by that "The Crooked Man" really true? He had not seen more than the clown approaching his beloved mother from behind with a small wooden mallet with black white stripes, noticing that it was bloody which, sure because that he had smashed it on the heads of several people, ending with the black screen and a few blank words that said, "It's time for the weasel to stop running, Will."

With great care, when he reached the door, he supported his ear in silence to listen to some movement related to the clown, since somehow, he managed to learn certain things that he did and at what moment he moved to catch him, but he never expected what would listen.

There was a muffled moan, to be more specific, a feminine moan but that carried pain, so without having a cold mind he kicked the door open to find a rather bizarre scene: his mother was tied tightly to an old chair made of oak as well as a gag that was beginning to bruise him due to the pressure with which they had put it, in addition to showing that his lower lip had been broken due to a slap. His blond hair that was always neatly arranged was dirty and stained with blood from the blow that the threat had given him, his garments were torn on his arms, legs, and stomach with their respective cuts in the skin. On the table were the inert bodies of the two canaries that she had cared for years, having their sockets empty and their tongues stretched out as far as possible from their beaks, as well as how they had taken the time to screw all their organs as if were the hats that the sultans used to wear on their little heads.

On the left side of the chair where his mother was, there was said clown with a sharp smile from ear to ear, as if it were a child who was showing his father some forms of plasticine that he had made in school in art hour. His white eyes were fixed on the blue orbs of the young adult, while his crooked index finger played dangerously with the woman's chin, noting that with the long nails that it had, he had made the cuts in her body without problems.

"Oh, finally the little weasel has approached the monkey who wanted to have fun ... Although, well, the monkey had to take it out on mother weasel for not being able to socialize with her baby." something funny, as if what was happening was just an innocent game. Seeing that the young blue-eyed man was raising the razor, he gave a loud laugh that made both victims tremble a bit before a muffled scream was heard from his mother as his hair was pulled back, giving him a better view of his neck to the young man, that if he did something, his hand would not shake to open his throat as if he were a fish. "After all, we don't want this beautiful evening to be ruined due to one of my fingers acting like a can opener for her neck, do we?"

"P-Please ... L-Leave her alone, you're not interested in her. ”He barely managed to say, lowering the knife a little, having his eyes teary because his mother's life was on his hands, and it all depended on how he handled the matter with this one.

"You're right, this bitch is not of my interest, but yours. You know? It has cost me a lot to be able to make you stay and listen to my words, even when I tried to be as "diplomatic" as possible but you always ran away when you saw me approach you. I don't understand why humans only pay attention to one when there is something of value that is at risk." form his other hand relax the grip of the hair and pat her on the head, implying that if he cooperated, he would too.

"W-Why? ... What do you want from me ?!" He managed to say while raising his voice more and more, due to the frustration of various factors, which were filling his patience with the lack of sleep.

"Tch, tch, little Grossman ... You lower the tone of your voice because otherwise, I'll make her raise hers." He said showing an angry smile, while slowly pulling the woman's hair back to the point that it seemed to be removing your scalp little by little, being something that was shown in the moans of pain on her part. After a few moments, he let go of her completely to rest one of his elbows on her head and smile a bit calmer.— As for the other, what I want from you is a little bit of your time since I must tell you something very important..."

"S-Something very important? ... W-What is it? ..." He asked while keeping the dagger with the edge down, trembling slightly since if he had done such things to those poor canaries, if he did getting angry could do much worse to the hostage.

"Well ... have you ever wondered where your father went, kid?"

"I-I only know that he left, leaving my mother alone and ..." He managed to say before starting to hear the aberration of laughter and a blow on the table, causing the carcasses of the birds to jump slightly, leaving them the "hat" made from your intestines.

"Ahh ... Really, angry women are snakes ... They simply let themselves be carried away by their stupid emotions ..." Said the clown as he took one of the aforementioned cheeks to squeeze it as if it were a little girl. Your father, Thomas, was a great man, Will. He had to abandon them due to a great family secret, which goes from Grossman to Grossman, something that unfortunately the children of this offspring do not have to be part of until they are of age. deep way, noticing something serious, no longer than mocking way with which one used to see and hear.

"W-What do you mean? ..." He asked again as his eyes became more and more watery. What did her absent father have to do with a being of that scale? The only thing he knew from his mother's mouth is that he was a man who had some anxiety as well as psychosis and, therefore, had to go to a psychiatrist for a long time.

"Well, it's a long story so you should take a seat," he said before snapping his fingers and making one of the chairs creep up to the boy, who still didn't trust any of them being actions. He just shrugged, then looked back at him. “This goes back two centuries, to be specific, to the year 1800, a London on Christmas Eve. Your great-great-great-grandfather, Isaac Lee Grossman was a very unfortunate child, his family had been poor for several generations since all men ended up being shitty alcoholics, in addition to being abusers with their wives and children, and in this case, not was the exception. Because he had to work as a newspaper boy or shoe shiner, he couldn't have friends because of not having time, so while his father was beating his mother, between his sheets he asked the angels to They conceived someone with whom he could have a break ... "He replied before having a somewhat lost look as he caressed the woman's head a little, as if he remembered something profound" ... And they created me.

Will looked at him roughly, for although there were things that were considered bizarre today, the clown completely surpassed them: his sharp teeth, his careless hands, his unfriendly voice, and his white eyes made anyone would mistrust him. Noticing his gaze, he laughed lightly.

"Don't think I always looked like this, kid. I was more colorful and much less son of a bitch. Continuing with the story that brings us together today, we were both very close, and one of my many skills was that I could adapt and develop to his mood swings as a personality. It was three beautiful months of fun until his father started to get more violent than normal, so his mother decided to take him to the orphanage in the hope that he would have a better life. He couldn't take me, so he promised that when I was old enough, he would come home even if he had been adopted, so he asked me to get into the music box the angels had kept me with. Obeying his words, I got into that little place and faithfully waited for 13 years, until in the end the inevitable happened: in one of the fits of rage, the bastard of his father ended up killing your grandfather's mother, causing that the policemen sentenced him to hang, leaving the house completely alone since no one was interested in the place because of its poor condition and that it was not a place to do anything either, besides being the poorest area of London. I was completely alone for a few days until I heard someone enter the place, being an adult Isaac, but like my colors, his soul had lost its essence because he had lost the woman he loved, falling into it. vice that her father and trying to forget her, was with other women until ... One day, a young woman with golden hair like the sun and a smile that melted any man's heart arrived at the place, helping him up the rustic stairs to the bedroom. They both started chatting and even though he was drunk, it was quite nice until a kiss was present. Although I did not know what the hell he was doing at the time, it caught my attention as he progressed from caressing her cheek to descending to her legs under her salmon-colored dress, but the girl refused even though this he insisted carefully, to the point that her patience ran out, giving him a strong slap and ..." He said while showing anxiety of happiness, making a morbid smile.

"S-So what? ... W-What happened? ..." He managed to ask while swallowing some saliva. From what he sensed, his ancestor could have committed a sexual crime.

"... He turned her body into a beautiful human chair ... Her soft skin was the padding, her bones were the base of the chair, and her fucking skull was the decoration for the top. That took several hours, in addition to certain parts of the chair, the skin was hanging a bit, but it was a beautiful work of art. ”He answered licking his sharp teeth as if that had been something so exquisite to see as a banquet. Mother and son closed their eyes in disgust at having imagined the shape of the poor girl's body, he finished. "I had never been exposed to such violence, but it was something that stimulated both of us and made Isaac know how to regain consciousness. his shattered life, beginning to massacre all his enemies as well as his children, giving them a slow death. One day, finally on the shelf where my music box was sheltered, it had fallen due to rotting wood due to humidity. Your grandfather went up again to where was his old room to look at the cause of the noise, coming across my discolored box after so much time, and out of nostalgia, he began to move the handle ... When I left it after the song "Pop ! Goes The Weasel "reached his climax, he was just as surprised as when we first met, only this time he was intimidated by my new look."

"A-And what did you do when you saw that I was afraid of you? ..."The blue-eyed asked again, keeping the dagger glued to his leg in case it were to pounce. Something inside said that at any moment he would do something to her since his expression was a mixture of seriousness and some anger with a hint of meditation on what he would say.

"I must admit I was very infuriated by the fact that he thought it was just a figment of his imagination, but ... you know? He was the person I loved the most, so I tried as much as possible that anger did not dominate me, to start a loooong conversation like in the old days. ”He answered giving a melancholic smile, showing a certain warmth that he had not shown before but that in a few seconds he disappeared to continue. "From that day on, I continued with the mission of my existence: to make Isaac happy, helping to get rid of the bastards who hurt him and managing to stay with the woman he loved, giving me the gift of having a little Grossman under my tutelage ... For what each generation that has passed, I take care that they respect his last wishes: that they continue with the tradition of being the best assassins of the decade." He replied before returning to stare at it.

At that moment, the silence was present in the place as Will took a seat and looked at the floor seriously. Did your entire paternal family have to follow the clown? Had everyone suffered such extreme harassment to the point of going crazy? He looked up again to see his mother's eyes, which reflected pain and sadness as if he had understood something. The wrinkles that were beginning to appear on his face, the gray hairs that were also taking initiative in the roots of his hair because old age was coming more and more into his life ... He owed many things to that woman, already that she had always helped him when he hit rock bottom, even more so because of the last love affair that was a complete disaster even though she was exhausted from work. In silence, he got up from the chair as he approached the clown, who grabbed the woman's blond hair tightly and with the claw of his index finger placed it on her throat, slightly prodding her causing her to complain to keep the threat in force until that he noticed how the boy was half a meter from them to do something that none of the older people thought he would do: he let the knife slide from his trembling fingers to fall on the wooden floor and immediately afterward, raise his gaze with haggard orbs and completely lacking in happiness.

"From what I can guess, all this time you have tried to make me know my paternal roots and follow in the footsteps of my grandfather like those who followed him, right?" Asked the boy, not even looking at the eyes of his mother, who begged him between muffled sobs not to do it, which made the clown pull his hair more sharply before nodding in response, showing himself very seriously. "I'll do what you tell me, as long as you leave mom out of this."

At that moment, everything returned to tense silence. The being was somewhat thoughtful by the boy's words, in addition to being the first that had not tried to attack him being so close, while the woman wanted to make eye contact with her son, trying to somehow make him come to his senses.

>> Please ... Don't do that ... I don't want to do this either, but I don't want to lose you as my best friend Mark because of him << He thought, pressing his lips together to try not to show the painful feeling that it was taking over her heart.

"Fine, child," the clown finally said as he gently slid his claw from the throat to the hostage's chin and stared into the young adult's eyes. "But once you left this apartment, you won't see her again or else ... "He said while making a not-so-deep cut in the woman's right temple, causing her to squeal a bit." Got it? "He asked with notable seriousness while he saw how he nodded in response.

Once the terms of the deal had been made clear, he let go of the blond hair to reach out his long arm and lead it to the kitchen counter to hand the boy a very old wooden mask painted white, which looked like the Venetian carnival masks of the Doctors of the Black Death. With some hesitation, he looked at the monochrome clown, as if searching for some explanation.

"That was the mask that your grandfather Isaac used for his massacres and that has been passed from generation to generation." He replied while gesturing for him to try it, which he did with great care as it was a relic. When the mask was finally on his face, a big smile was present in the being before approaching the young man and putting his hand on his shoulder. "It's time to go and start your life of crime, Will." He said before turning around. her head towards the woman with a wince of victory when she saw that several tears ran down her sore cheeks. "Don't worry, weasel mom. I will take good care of your baby. ”He added, giving a tone of responsibility as he cut the gag from her mouth a little so that she would alert the neighbors even though they would think she was a lunatic like several mothers from whom she had taken their children.

When she had managed to remove the cloth from her mouth, from one blink to another, there were no traces of the monochromatic clown or her son, only the corpses of the canaries and the wounds on his body.

The woman's screams of pain were present throughout the apartment, causing neighbors to call the police with some fear. There was no worse pain for a mother than her son was in constant danger because of having something in his blood that had always brought trouble to all subsequent generations of that man who had asked the angels for something positive.

#creeps #horror #laughing jack #crowman #will grossman #creepypasta #creepypastas #frankie #isaac grossman #my writing #psychotic #serie #snuffbomb

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screechthemighty · 4 years

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Okay, so, I’m gonna do ONE single solitary hot take on the response T*m made to the “headcase” situation and then I promise I won’t talk about it more. Full version under a cut for length, tl;dr is that Apex Legends is not a storytelling medium that lends itself to the kind of character growth needed for the concern in question to be adequately addressed.

Normally, I would be okay with his defense (a few people have put it in the tag if you want to read it) in literally any other context. What he’s saying at its core is that characters can grow and change and move past bad habits and honestly, I agree! It’s perfectly fine (within reason) to give characters negative traits and mentalities that they learn to overcome as the plot progresses. That’s a natural part of writing and character growth.

However. I think the problem is that when you’re dealing with a serious subject matter, like, say, abelism, that’s the kind of character growth that needs substantial fleshing out and serious care because it hurts actual people. And that’s where the issue is, because, well...Apex Legends isn’t set up for that kind of character development. Yes, Apex has given us more plot in 1.5 years than Overwatch has in five, but they can only tell so much story in weekly segments that take ten minutes or less to consume. This means that the kind of subtle character growth that leads from “calling a character ‘headcase’ to her face” to “I see the error of my ways and will no longer be cruel to the woman with psychosis” is going to be, at best, abrupt, and at worst basically nonexistent outside of “and suddenly, this character wasn’t abelist anymore!”

For reference, it took Daryl Dixon like...three seasons of The Walking Dead to get to a point where I found him correcting Merle about Glenn being Korean believable. Let’s be generous and say that was 30 episodes between his first appearance and that moment. That’s 30 hours of television with him as a secondary character. Apex season five’s plot was under one hour total. This season’s plot is a seven page comic where I don’t even know if Bangalore is in it (people who have read the leaks: do not tell me in the reblogs, or tag it if you do bring it up, pls). We’d need 29 more seasons, which would take about 7.25 years if my math is right, with every one of them having Bangalore and her viewpoints being touched on, to get that same level where I’d believe she’s genuinely no longer abelist towards Wraith. Same goes for Elliott not saying insensitive shit. Even if we can believe they’d have that kind of character growth in one season’s worth of TV, that’s still anywhere from eight to thirteen seasons (if we do it based of Netflix standards for a season), and that ASSUMES each season gets one hour of lore plot with either character having at least moderate focus.

I’m sorry, but in a cast of 14 characters (and growing!) with a lot of plot potential, limited opportunities for storytelling (especially directly in-game, like they can release novels and stuff but then we’re getting into Star Wars EU territory and that’s a post all on its own), and the potential that, at any given moment, a season could be derailed the way s6 was or the game could end...that’s not happening. It’s just not. And this isn’t a dig at the writers. The medium is inherently not equipped to handle that kind of storytelling.

What I’m getting at is, yeah, characters can be flawed, characters should be flawed, learning not to be a shithead is a valid character plot. But since the medium has a lot of constraints that other forms don’t, I don’t think that Bangalore learns not to be abelist towards Wraith or Mirage learns not to use casually abelist language is the kind of plot that will work for that kind of thing. And with there being disabled/mentally ill/neurodivergent people in the fandom, I think, much like how they didn’t stick by Caustic being a racist for the comfort of their Asian players, it would be better to focus on other negative aspects of their character (Mirage being selfish, Bangalore being a bootlicker) which are easier to resolve within the confines of the medium and don’t make people uncomfortable.

...I’m an English major, can you tell?

#apex legends #apex critical #tom casiello's twitter for ts #headcasegate for ts

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hopelessromanticsociopath · 3 years

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Alright! Chat time for my lovely followers who do read my posts! And the random people who look at the ana hashtags. This one is for you reading thus

This year i have fallen into a deep hole of binging and restricting and i lost around 40 pounds. I began eating healthier and working out but the results weren’t showing as fast as I wanted them to so I just stopped eating. It began to get very scary and dangerous. My hair started falling out, my period went away, and i was almost passing out everytime i stood up and i reached a very low weight. People began to notice and call me tiny and i was actually very flattered by it and it kept me going.

I also began to slightly lose it. I began spiraling and fell into a psychosis like state where i would act and not think. I eventually got hospitalized, for doing drugs yikes, not my eating disorder persay, but being there, you have to eat or else they’ll put tubes down your throat blah blah. I was not happy about this because i was on about a 2 week fast by that point. But once i began eating again, i noticed the cloudiness in my head began to slowly fade. I’m really really not okay with my life right now. And recovering is so hard. But sometimes it feels nice to eat something other than skinny pop and rice cakes and low cal yogurt and jello. I ate a sandwich the other day for the first time in like ..... months. My mind was absolutely racing, i was eating TWO pieces of bread like in my head that was like breaking a law. I also bought myself a kit kat. Kit kats are fucking crack. They are SO yummy and it felt so nice to just enjoy food for the first time in absolutely such a long time.

I realized that with my eating disorder came a lot of hatred. And it came with a lot of thoughts like oh I’ll be happy when I’m 105 pounds, but at my lowest weight, like 107, i was fucking the most miserable at my whole life. I was digging myself in such a deep hole. Everyone could see that except for me because I’m the type to refuse to ask for help until i am absolutely rock bottom. I wish I had gotten help sooner. I feel like I’ve missed out on so much.

So many dinners with my friends that i skipped. So much food I didn’t eat for months even though i loved it, i was just scared of the calories and gaining weight. And I won’t lie to you, recovery is one of the hardest things I’ve ever put myself in. I don’t know how long this will last either. Recovery is never linear. But it feels nice. It feels like a nice break. And I won’t lie, sometimes i look at myself in the mirror and cry because I don’t like what i see. Sometimes i skip meals, sometimes i throw up in the bathroom when i eat too much, i count every calorie in my head silently, i still check pro ana blogs. I don’t know if i would say I’m recovering correctly either because I’m just silently fighting this battle in my head. It’s scary. It’s really scary. This was how I’ve coped for the past year.

I’m not in nearly as deep as so many people are. I know this post could never stop someone from their lifestyle. And who am i to judge? I’m not. But eating meals just has made me already so much better. I feel a little bit better. It’s like some of the emptiness is gone. Because literally. The emptiness inside my stomach is gone

That being said gaining weight that you lost is one of the worst feelings ever. Months of progress just like that ..... gone. But I’ve decided the perfection I’ve strived for is unachievable. I will never be happy with myself no matter what weight I am; and I’m not the girl who’s naturally model thin, and I’m very much not okay with that, but I’ll have to be if I want to stay alive. And making that choice is actually life vs death. I’m choosing to live. I’m choosing freedom.

And it’s the scariest thing ever

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bullets-and-masks · 4 years

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Fantastic Flustercuck: Lore, Interesting points, and a little thinking through

Here we go! This list is really, really big. I’ll do a short analysis/critic later on, but I want to get this out now! We’ll have 4 sessions: 1. Krieg and the Crimson Raiders 2. Krieg and Maya 3. Krieg and Himself 4. Final Notes

Session 01: Krieg and the Raiders

Sane Krieg starts by calling Psycho Krieg him; and dividing their mind between two minds, as if there are thoughts only Psycho Krieg has that he can’t access and/or understand

There’s a constant JACK voiceover that can be heard anywhere. Sadly, I didn’t catch the words, but sounded like the pre recorded messages at the preserve in Bl2

The first section of the DLC, the Castle raid, is considered imporant because it’s the first mission Krieg did along with the Crimson Raiders after a while

During this section, we fight the raiders

Brick and Modercai come first. They talk about how Krieg is too crazy to be a part of the Raiders. Sane Krieg does not want to fight them. Psycho Krieg fights - but it’s fear

Tannis quickly accesses it as fear of rejection. Krieg always had an issue with how the Raiders see him

Despite this Sane Krieg does know they’re friends, his family

Also sane Krieg uses the word oaf and that’s like... really funny

In this, Tannis says she relates to fear of rejection, but quickly corrects saying she doesn’t care

There’s the implication that Krieg’s eye was clawed out by a skag

The “Evil Lilith” inside his head calls him an animal, a beast, a weapon just to be used. Says they never cared if he lived or died

Sane Krieg quickly corrects this isn’t how she spoke to us

Lilith is tagged as “Scary fire lady” and that’s kind of adorable

Sane Krieg shows Psycho Krieg an old memory about how the Raiders treat him, and it’s the Raiders inviting Krieg to a bar. They don’t mind how he acts and laugh along with him

But Krieg follows from a distance

The Raiders guard his buzzaxe = strenght and attack

Krieg has a dialogue with himself that goes sorta like: Sane Krieg: (smth about finding out who is he, really) Psycho Krieg: Fragile Things

Sane Krieg also mentions wanting to learn dance, saying he has to exercise to keep his abs, calling it “lean muscle”

Session 02: Krieg and Maya

Oh boy

As soon as they see a memory of Maya, Sane Krieg wants to be careful. He doesn’t want the memory corrupted like the Raiders’.

Krieg KNOWS she is dead

Sane Krieg says Maya is the only thing he and Psycho Krieg ever agreed on

despite this, during the DLC they seem to get along better and better, Krieg is really working on themselves

Maya drops her book before proceeding. The player has to go after. Flowers grow on the ground where we walk

Tannis states diferent brain activity readings at this point, saying Krieg can really focus on Maya

Maya is taken by Locomobius, the monster train, and Sane Krieg says it’s because at the time they met, Psycho Krieg thought the train was taking her

Maya tells him in a goodbye ECHO: “No matter how far appart we are, I’ll always be with you.”

The name of the mission to catch Locomobius and free the memories of Maya is what love remains

Sane Krieg says the memories are all he has left of Maya

There’s a flashback to when they met, and it shows that Maya invited Krieg to come with her because he showed knowing how to fight

She does call him Big Guy constantly

Krieg has memories of Athenas, implying he has been there

Athenas is guarded by eridians, here funcioning as guardians to the memories of Maya

This is all viewed by Tannis as the protections of a grieving mind

The flashback about when they met also reveals that Krieg expressed he didn’t think he had anything to offer Maya and she understood him

It it’s not explained, whoever, how she understands him, but it’s very strongly implied that she sees his through thoughts/the translation of psycho speech

Maya guards his gauntlet = his defenses and hope

Even now, Maya is still a figure of hope for him

Sane Krieg complains about how Psycho Krieg lost a watch that he cared for

Session 2.5: Maya’s Spirit

Maya’s Last ECHO Maya leaves for Krieg one last ECHO that explains why she’s staying on Athenas for an indefinite time - to teach Eva. She says she knows she’ll pass her powers to Eva which implies she suspects her death could be soon. She says she can feel all the sirens that came before her like energy flowing, and says that if she days she’ll be among the stars waiting for him. There’s the quote, from her: “Even death and time can’t keep us appart from each other.”

The Spirit Maya stays in Krieg’s mind in a shining black and white form. At first, It looks like it might be his perception of her, the way she appears in his mind, but upon further triggering dialogue, there’s a lot of things told from a perspective that make it sound like Krieg didn’t know, and that also Maya is aware of this new form for her.

Quotes say:

that she never thought she could care about anyone the way she cared about Krieg

says that Krieg’s mind is less messy than she thought it’d be

had noodles in Minus-Prime, and loves it

she dyes her hair!

Maya says with all the words Siren’s have the power to leave memory on objects, memory that are almost a spirt

So this could be a fragment of Maya, alive in Krieg’s mind through the last ECHO he ever got from her

Also her spirit also mentions that one day a hotel showed up in Athenas, she slept there, it was a super interesting place, and she woke up lying on grass the morning after. Mancubus’ traveling hotel?

Session 03: Krieg and Himself

And Hyperion.

Krieg was at Hyperion to do a job at a lab

but then was “taken” by them. also not specified if he was taken for doing the wrong job, or he was there not hired by them and was captured

It is not specified what job, but he does mention he was a mercenary

The scientist responsible for him was Dr Benedict, and the called the subjects rejects of society

Sane Krieg says the lab saw the subjects as just meat. This is easily read as way Psycho Krieg registers meat as something that matters so much

Dr Benedict considered/might have done it: sweing the mouths of subjects shut or extracting their tongues so they couldn’t complain

Sane Krieg was really soft y’all... He fights a rat while imprisioned and names it Tawanda - unclear what happens to it - but Krieg says they’ll take care of each other

Krieg tells Tawanda “I’m called Krieg”. In a further ECHO, Dr Benedict calls Krieg Subject 24C. So Krieg really isn’t his name, and he can’t remember it

There’s an audio from Dr Benedict about an non specific subject asking to see his son, which the dr considers crazy, but all the others audios, even if not mentioning Krieg by name, seemed to be about him...

Sane Krieg sits along with Pyscho Krieg in an aparent crumbled cell space watching shadows that he calls The World. It’s Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, here showing Krieg is content with the world presented to him, unable, weak or even afraid to explore. It speaks to a false meaning he found to have the sense of living without having the strenght to do so

the player destroys the allegory, thus freeing Sane Krieg to see the actual world, a further step in regaining his mind as a world to really live in - he truly was trapped in himself

Bloodlust is a type of psychosis studied by Dr Benedict. It’s unclear wheter he created it, or what is behind it, but he uses a gas to infect people

considers making a gas bomb to infect whole populations

there’s a line from the Dr about how brain probing worsed pyschosis

the gas didn’t affect Krieg like the others - it is also unclear why

a mission with a Fear Mom, completely referencing the Clockwork Orange, tells Krieg to drink Milk to grow strong so “no one will hurt you ever again.” This could be read as remnants of his past self, creating a place to feel cared for someway, but also embracing the ultraviolence of his being and the brainwashing he went through

this side mission rewards a gun with the flavor text our eyes are yet to open like a baby, or like someone who lacks clarity

Krieg cared a lot about people before going insane. He holds strongly to a sense of right and wrong he calls goodness, and values innocence a lot

The Psycho personality is a schism that showed up in several test subjects that manifested the same personality

Dr Benedict wanted to change the subject pool to see the relation and considers an elementary school class

Also considers putting the gas in water supply to infect people since the gas won’t work on open areas

Psycho Krieg saves Sane Krieg when he had given up on scaping

It is a bloodbath Psycho Krieg calls Tea Party

Sane Krieg sees this realization, about being saved and the Vault Hunter being inside his head, as Psycho Krieg letting people in

Hyperion kept his mask from him = “false face is protection”

Upon defeating the boss, the Gigantic Krieg tied to an experimentation bed fades.

After taking the mask, this Three Figures walk into a portal in his mind and disappear forever. Sane Krieg doesn’t remember who they are and remarks that he forgot his past entirely. But looks at Psycho Krieg and decides on Forging a future.

They tell jokes to each other constantly, though Psycho Krieg only tells a decent joke by the end of the DLC. The joke is the one coherent sentence he can make; showing a lot of progress in how he communicates, but not changing who he is. By the end, his mind is empty, and both Kriegs work together to fill it slowy with new memories and thoughts. They start with Maya, and keep creating until she says “Enough for now. Come in and tell me about your day”, to which Krieg responds FUSING INTO HIMSELF, WHOLE, and walking into the house with her. The voiceover from Krieg tells us we’re always breaking and hurting, but we put ourselves together again, never perfect, but close enough. Always fixing ourselves.

Final Notes:

This DLC was really good, imo. I really liked the direction it took and I’m glad it wasn’t TOO wacky, loosing all the meaning and more seriousness it could have. It is a great character exploration, respects Krieg as a character and the one around him and their relationships. Krieg comes out as not needing fixing, and instead making peace with all he is and growing. Canon things confirmed: Worked as a mercenary, was a Crimson Raider, was one invited by Maya, was loved back, was experimented on by Hyperion, was saved by himself.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #fantastic flustercuck #krieg the psycho #krieg #dlc 4 #bl3 dlc #mmar talks #mmar plays bl3

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artmotherhoodandmadness · 3 years

Text

Breaking the trauma bond with the help of EMDR

Trauma bonds have punctuated my whole life; in fact my very first one was probably the relationship with my middle sister. I put her on a pedestal and thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world and a genius. She took umbrage with my perception of her and in seconds her volatile outbursts could leave me flattened and annihilated. My mother and stepfather frequently had outbursts too; you never knew when another bomb was going to be detonated. But then my sister could be funny, charming, charismatic and erudite; my mother made exquisite food; and my stepfather would buy my art materials when I needed them. They could behave monstrously, but they could be nice too. This was how the intermittent reinforcement was cemented, there would be storms peppered with moments of sunshine and you hoped there would be more sunny days than stormy ones. Like the lab rats experimented on in Skinner’s experiment, the rat would keep pulling the lever hoping for a reward but Skinner ensured that the pellets came with less frequency; nonetheless the rat would keep pulling the lever and neglect everything else hoping for another pellet. Just one last high, one last reward, one final hit of dopamine. Without realising it the rat had become an addict, and without realising it as a child I became an addict, too, addicted to a lethal combination of chemicals, unleashed when I was shouted at, namely cortisol, followed by my reward dopamine if I was on the receiving end of a moment of kindness. But moments of kindness were inconsistent and unpredictable.

The next trauma bond lasted ten years with a girl at school who really didn’t like me and could be cruel, indifferent and a bully, but I was blindly devoted to her and it caused me great distress and sadness when she discarded me, then hoovered me up, gave me a crumb of attention only to devalue and discard once more, it was an insidious pattern. I watched her develop from a vibrant, happy girl, to one who was obese and an alcoholic from the age of 10 to 18. I didn't understand at the time that it was another trauma bond and so a pattern has persisted in my life to this day. When I look back on specific friendships and numerous interactions, there were often unhealthy attachments with typically narcissistic types.

During my session with Dr S I told him about my friend of three years, a fellow, artist, who struggled with emotionally unstable personality disorder. His outbursts left me decimated, but then I focused on his talents in music and photography and believed, as a mental health campaigner, I could not abandon him.

Dr S said, ‘No good comes from maintaining contact with a narcissist. The only person that benefits is the narcissist, you are being used as supply.’

Dr S ascertained that my friend was a narcissist in minutes after I shared a text exchange. I had told my friend that I was doing EMDR and very quickly his texts became rebarbative.

‘You have to delete his number, you cannot allow someone to speak to you like that, he’s a scumbag.’ Dr S said matter of factly.

I thought of the times in the past, since I had my psychosis, when I had erratic outbursts and said things that I would never have said if I had been well, and I was convinced me deleting his number would be tantamount to abandoning him.

‘You are spreading yourself too thin,’ Dr S concluded.

‘You are in therapy, you are trying to get better, you have to focus on the here and now, your husband and children, not saving others.’

My friend reminded me of my sister, just as I had hoped to save her, I hoped to save him, but Dr S was right, I had to reinstate myself. What good would come from having a ‘self detonating fire cracker’ in my life?

‘Charity begins at home,’ Dr S said.

‘He has made you his slave. He has become heroin. You are behaving like an addict.’

All of this was shocking, I didn’t want to be anyone’s slave and the EMDR commenced. I held that thought. ‘Slave.’ The word got bigger and louder in my head to the point where I said, ‘No more.’

Had the penny dropped? I had a high tolerance for abuse, because I grew up in a volatile household but everyone has their tipping point. My husband knew about my friendship and didn't approve, in his eyes my friend was a ‘loser’.

Suddenly I was confused, were there some mentally ill people that you just dismissed as beyond help?

‘Could he ever get better?’ I asked.

‘Yes, with EMDR it’s possible.’

He was a cannabis user, too, and as long as he smoked he would continue to have delusions of grandeur and a strong sense of entitlement. I thought of my other friend, a photographer who was addicted to cannabis. He was on medication and receiving mental health support but still had not turned his life around, and it was frustrating to talk to him. I realised that it did not serve me to listen to him talking about cannabis, it brought me low, he was doing nothing with his life, just frittering it away. I was proactive, productive, a creator and I wanted to be around people who appreciated my talents, who were supportive and encouraging, who were stable and kind. My digital paintings reflected the conflict between the turbulence that I was facing and the desire for calm, there was a stark dichotomy of disparate forces coming into play when I looked at them.

Dare I say it I needed normal people in my life, not dysfunctional ones and this predilection for the dysfunctional stemmed from childhood. Did I want to be dysfunctional or functional? Of course I wanted the latter.

Dr S continued with the EMDR focusing on the analogy of the friendship being like heroin and as he moved his fingers I said to myself, ‘I don’t want to be a heroin addict, I am not a junky, I will go zero contact, I will no longer respond.’

Dr S went even further and said the abuse I had received during the friendship, had left me with battered wife syndrome and a diminished sense of self, this was also shocking. But it reminded me of how I felt as a child when my stepfather hit me in public, or my sister and mother shouted at me in a public place, my self esteem would shrivel to the size of a pea. I always felt that I had done something wrong and that I deserved it.

My friendship with the artist, accompanied with his volatile outbursts, replicated these seminal childhood relationships and subliminally I knew all of this. In fact I had tried repeatedly to break contact.

My husband, by contrast, was stable, solid, responsible, patient and consistent. I didn’t get the same chemicals from my bond with him, but I did get a sense of security from an attachment with someone I had known since I was 19. And of course it had not been easy for him to see his wife go through a roller coaster ride of mental health struggles, often I had seen him as the enemy but that was no longer the case. It was like a dense fog had lifted. With the right treatment maybe I was going to finally turn a corner. Certainly he was happy with my progress, I owed it to my family and well being to stick with the treatment.

Maybe this would be my last ever trauma bond?

I told Dr S that everyday I did my writing, art, music and exercise. I also tried to be present with the kids, my focus was on being calm, fostering a stable environment at home and so far I had achieved this. I didn’t believe that I could have psychosis again, or raise my voice or have an episode. In fact, I didn’t recognise who that person was. I was returning to the person I was before the psychosis.

Dr S said it would be a long road but that all the dots could be joined together from childhood, and there was still much to investigate and unpick. My life was filled with so much trauma, how would it be possible to process it all? The bilateral stimulation that came from EMDR activated the left and right hemispheres of the brain; these memories would become less potent as they were processed. I saw EMDR as a method of breaking down and diminishing the power of unpleasant memories and when I got home I decided to try it myself. I took a recurring and unpleasant memory and then I analysed and focused on one aspect of it. For example, when I was in London, I met many famous people and often it made me feel uncomfortable and inadequate, I couldn’t deal with such interaction and yet at the same time I wondered if they were better than me because they were richer and more successful. Instead I said, ‘I am me, I like my simple life, they have skills, but so do I, do I want to be them? No I am happy painting, writing and composing, my heroes are the underdogs, the ones that never got any recognition but carried on regardless.’ Then I held onto that idea and did the EMDR. I did this repeatedly with memories that have kept on recurring for decades until I felt giddy with mental exhaustion. Dr S said that I might have vivid dreams as a result and sure enough my dreams were filled with random recollections of trauma. There was so much of it and it was shocking that I had endured and survived it all, but that was the point, I had survived and I was still standing.

I read online that it was possible to do EMDR on your own, I realised that there were things that I didn’t want to share with Dr S, they were too harrowing and sometimes his response was not gentle, he was tough with me, he did not mince his words and I was just too sensitive. I felt judged by him in many ways, judged by everyone and of course I wanted to hide it all, hide everything that had happened but that was not possible, I had to face it.

Thankfully my relationship with my mother is healthy now, she acknowledges that when my sisters and I were growing up she could be irascible and identified that it stemmed from her relationship with her father who was always screaming at home, it left her terrified and unwittingly she emulated this model of parenting. I have learnt from the past and don’t shout in front of the children, they are happy and vibrant and thriving, there is no need for patterns of childhood to be repeated.

EMDR seemed to be the right treatment, I would stick with it, bit by bit I was getting stronger and yes, my artist friend, despite his talents, I would have to let him go. He would be my last trauma bond and my brain would recalibrate and no longer be addicted to the chemicals that it had fed off for most of my life. It was not going to be easy - that’s for sure - but with patience and persistence and support and critically, EMDR, it was possible to break the trauma bond for good.

#traumabonds #emdr

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