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rayshippouuchiha · 2 years

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Au with Ichigo as a pretty amazing ASMR YouTuber and the local serial killer is the fan that loves him

Perhaps not exactly what you had in mind but this is what the void spat forth so here we go:

Kisuke's never been fond of the term psychopath.

Or, to be more accurate, he's never been fond of having the label attached to himself.

He's self-aware and intelligent enough to understand why so many people enjoy attempting to attach that particular tag to his name after spending any real amount of time with him.

Kisuke knows that, he's aware, and so it's honestly completely understandable when people reach that conclusion.

It's just that he's just never actually agreed with the pseudo-diagnosis so many like to sling in his direction.

Because Kisuke knows himself better than anyone else and he knows that he is not a psychopath.

Is he manipulative? Yes, of course. Is he violent? Obviously.

But Kisuke has never lacked empathy, has never lacked remorse or anything of the like.

His emotions are and have always been firmly intact.

So, contrary to popular belief, Kisuke is not a psychopath.

Instead, he's simply blessed with a particular talent for pragmatism.

Or perhaps an overabundance of it, depending on who one asks.

For all that Kisuke has always enjoyed learning and experimenting and generally broadening his intellectual horizons, it's a passion that had, ultimately, been born from practicality.

He'd grown up destitute, just another Kabukichō bastard. He'd been born to a mother who'd worked in whatever shady "host club" that would take her and who had simply stopped coming back to the matchbox apartment they'd lived in by the time Kisuke was eight.

She'd left for work one evening, heels on, cheap perfume lingering in the air around them, with an absently affectionate kiss to the top of his messy hair and Kisuke had simply never seen her again.

Kisuke had been on the streets, scrapping and stealing and learning to be vicious just to survive, by the time he was nine.

Every single move he'd made back then had been guided by practicality, with the only real goal in mind being that of his own survival.

His first kill had been much the same.

There'd been a shatei of one of the local yakuza Clans who liked to linger in Kisuke's preferred areas of operation.

A yakuza little brother with a taste for little brothers of his own.

And he was particularly fond of Kisuke with his exotic blond hair and his captivating eyes.

He'd tried to come across as friendly, as fun and harmless.

But Kisuke had seen through him. Had seen through that intense sort of friendliness he'd exuded and right down to the hungry sort of emptiness that lived beneath it.

He'd seen through it but he'd still allowed himself to be lured in. Had taken the food and the snacks, the money and the headpats that made Kisuke's teeth itch. Had allowed himself to be pulled in closer and closer.

And then, when the time was right, Kisuke had struck.

Like a spider finally pulling on the razor-silk threads he'd woven, trapping prey that had firmly believed itself to be the only predator in the room.

Killing the man had been equal parts work and luck for Kisuke. For all of his planning, he had been only ten and whipcord lean with hunger at the time. But he'd also been quick and clever and had possessed a survival instinct that his year on the streets had done nothing but sharpen to a razor's edge.

So he'd been just a bit battered at the end but he'd gotten the job done, leaving the man limp and empty-eyed on the bed of the back alley love hotel he'd finally "coaxed" Kisuke into visiting with him.

Emotionally? Mentally? Killing that yakuza had just made sense to Kisuke. He'd been eliminating a threat. Disposing of a danger to himself and the other kids who roamed the back streets and alleyways.

Stealing his wallet and knife as well as anything useful out of the room itself but leaving the man's recognizable, identifiable, jewelry behind had all been practical choices.

Come to find out, killing pedophiles and other sexual predators that haunted Kabukichō ended up being fairly lucrative as well.

So, in Kisuke's opinion, it was only practical that he kept doing it.

~~~

Kisuke had operated like that for years, doing what he needed to do to survive, practicing his particular brand of pragmatism, right up until Yoruichi-sama had found him mid-kill and, instead of turning him in, had chosen to take him under her wing.

Yoruichi-sama had cared for him, had fed his mind as well as his body, and had allowed him to flourish and grow.

And she'd taught him how to refine his skills and then how to put them to use for the benefit of herself and for the Shihōin Clan as a whole.

He'd stayed by her side, had killed and heeled at her command like the loyal dog he was, for years.

Right up until he'd finally overstepped.

~~~

Hirako-sama had demanded Kisuke's head for what he'd done but Yoruichi had managed to talk him down to banishment and stripping of all Shihōin Clan protections.

Kisuke likely could have avoided such a thing if he'd agreed to Yoruichi-sama's suggestion to perform yubitsume but he'd refused.

Kisuke was more than capable of feeling regret and remorse no matter what the majority of the Shihōin, and Yoruichi-sama's little bee in particular, liked to whisper about him.

The fact of the matter was that he simply didn't regret killing Aizen Sosuke.

Kisuke had been one of the rare few who'd disliked the accountant, who'd never been drawn in by his charming smiles and his soft, slightly bookish persona that was somewhat of a rarity in their world.

Kisuke had known better.

Aizen had been a threat. Just another empty-eyed predator of a breed that Kisuke had no patience to deal with.

Kisuke had been content to keep a watch on him but to mostly ignore him, had managed to do so for years as a matter of fact.

Until he'd happened to see Aizen interact with young Hinamori Momo.

It had only been practical for Kisuke to do what he'd done after that.

Performing yubitsume and losing a pinky finger in remorse would have been an entirely empty gesture that Kisuke had no interest in.

In the end, Kisuke had chosen banishment instead, unwilling to have Yoruichi-sama fight for him any more than she already had.

He'd packed up what little he owned, taken his accounts and the hefty deposit Yoruichi had refused to take back (a severance package she'd said with that wry tilt to her mouth) had left.

~~~

He'd wandered for a while. Spent some time in Okinawa and Yokohama alike. He'd drifted from place to place and had even, for a brief while, considered making his way to the mainland.

But then, when he'd been spending some time in Kyoto and contemplating his next move, Kisuke had run across something that had changed everything.

He'd been sprawled out on a futon in the private suite of the inn he was staying in, scrolling through his phone and enjoying the calmness and solitude that came hand in hand with it being the off-season for tourism, and lamenting his inability to sleep.

Insomnia was truly one of his oldest companions. It had been born from the days when sleeping, when letting his guard down that far on the streets, wasn't safe and it had stuck with him throughout the rest of his life, coming and going in random spurts as he grew older.

Finally, just a bit frustrated, he'd dropped his phone onto his chest, autoplay turned onto the ASMR he normally used. It, like most other ASMR videos he'd tried over the years since he'd been introduced to the concept, only worked about 33% of the time but it was better than nothing.

If all else fails he can meditate for a while and contemplate his next move. He'd just arrived at this inn the night before but he was already feeling restless. He hadn't been able to stay in one place for longer than a few days since he left the Shihōin. Nowhere had felt right, had felt secure and comfortable enough to settle down in for longer than that.

The video that he was listening to, a soft murmuring voice reading from one of the latest scientific journals Kisuke enjoys, ended and there was a moment of silence as the next loaded.

"Top 10 Most Romantic Shakespeare Sonnets," an unfamiliar warm and husky voice murmured from Kisuke's phone then. "Sonnet 18. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temper-"

Kisuke abruptly went rigid, hair standing on end and senses electrified.

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May," the voice continued softly, soothingly. "And summer’s lease hath all too short a date."

And then, just as quickly as the tension came, Kisuke's spine abruptly melts.

By the time the voice has made it through the first seven sonnets Kisuke is deeply asleep.

~~~

Kisuke wakes up the next morning feeling more refreshed than he can remember feeling in years, if ever, with his phone dead and that voice still somehow ringing in his ears.

He only lets his phone charge enough to be able to turn it back on before he's pulling up his account and going through his history to get back to that video.

He likes it and even goes ahead and subscribes to the account that posted it. StrawberryProtector is kind of a cutesy name for an ASMR account with such a voice but Kisuke's absolutely seen weirder.

It might have been a fluke but Kisuke's enough of a lover of science that he's willing to give the channel a try tonight as well.

~~~

Only no, as it turns out, it's not a fluke.

Kisuke's gotten the best sleep of his life this week and it's all thanks to StrawberryProtector's absolutely delicious voice.

No matter what the content of the video is, from more Shakespeare to Takajo to various other poets and once even a cookbook, Kisuke finds himself relaxed and drowsy within ten minutes.

He's more than a little obsessed.

And it's not like he has much else to do these days.

So it's only practical that Kisuke pull out his laptop and do a little bit of digging.

~~~

An hour and a half later with Kurosaki Ichigo's life spread out on the screen in front of him, Kisuke knows that he's in love.

Looks like his next stop is going to end up being Karakura Town.

#RayRambles #Bleach #UraIchi #RayWrites #Liked And Subscribed AU

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librarycards · 8 months

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*might be sending this to a bunch of people with great blogs who I really like and appreciate

saw a claim made that ocd "can never be cured, like thatevery person who has ocd will always deal with it, "have it" and that's because ocd is caused by a "chemical imbalance in the brain" and that it's been "proven by research". so they say you can't deal with ocd for only a few months or years, if you say you have than it wasn't actually ocd you're lying or exaggerating. which I find ridiculous and insulting, but than they say something worse "research has proven it's chemicals in the brain" which sounds even more ridiculou (im anti-psychiatry all the way. but what can I say to that?! any thoughts?? is this person referencing any real research? or just made up pro psychiatry nonsense??

I'm afraid I might not have a satisfying answer to this ask, mostly because I'm 1) agnostic (at my most generous) to the "chemical imbalance theory" of "mental illness" (as it were). there is nuance to this: i don't think that we are somehow entirely unaffected by our brains, in terms of structure and contents etc. Rather, I think that the construction of "mental disability" is relatedly only tangentially to what our brains actually "do." That is, the construction of mental disability preceded and continues to exceed what is capable of being known about the brain "itself," because mental disability is first and foremost a social, medical, legal, linguistic construction. Little more evidence of this is needed than the fact that I have never had my brain scanned, yet have been diagnosed with myriad mental disabilities and institutionalized against my will. The brain is to mental disability what "sex" is to gender –– a mythology of concreteness designed to (unsteadily) bolster the flimsiness of the diagnosis, the assignment.

While I am also uninterested in recovery as a paradigm, and in theorizing what it might look like to be "free" of a certain part of the way i move through the world (ocd included), I am interested in collective healing with and through self-determination and free association. What I know for sure, despite the murkiness of everything else, is that it is possible to substantially improve your quality of life in a wide variety of ways: some people find medications that help, some counselling (whether professional or informal). Others choose spirituality and meditation. Others self-direct using freely available therapeutic resources. Still more enlist the help of their friends and loved ones to keep track of types of behavior they'd like to avoid. And, of course, some don't do any of that, and it is their right to do so, so long as they are not endangering others, regardless of how shitty it feels (both for them and the people who care about them).

so: I'm giving you a non-answer. I don't believe in cure because I don't believe in disability-as-disease. I think people who are obsessed (haha) with figuring out the etiology of different diagnoses are at best naïve and at worst eugenicist. (Note: i am not upset with you, nor do I think you're a eugenicist or any other genre of bad person! Thinking about these things does not make you bad. Asking these questions in good faith does not make you bad, either.) I think that we will be much better positioned to talk about living and improving together when we forget chemical imbalances or medical decrees of terminality or unrecoverability or treatment resistance, and start thinking about things we can do in our lives now that help us create better futures.

#antipsychiatry #ask #anonymous #if you think that my reasurance is excessive #please remember that i am assuming anon has some ocd-labelled shit going on (as do i) and responding with that in mind

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wishful-seeker · 9 months

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Guuuys i finally see a CRPS doctor this week!

Tw: brief mention of wishing self harm, and mention of medical abuse.

So for 4 years ive had undiagnosed chronic pain, its severe, ive been bed/house bound for 2 years and need a wheelchair when i leave the house.

I talk alot about my experience with being disabled, but i usually don't talk about my actual symptoms often.

I can't use a computer 90% of the time, on good days, which is now twice a week, but used to be never, i can play pc games in 20 minute increments, twice a day. I can't wash dishes, i cant walk without pain, i can't sit in chairs without pain. Im stuck laying in bed, all day, everyday. I usually can't make art, sometimes i can. Im just in bed, on my phone, in constant pain. Its a VERY difficult existence and i have often wished i didn't have limbs because the pain can be so intense.

So ive gone to countless doctors, rheumatologists, a pain specialist, an orthopedic, a neurologist. The reason im always saying stuff like "doctors are scum" is because every single doctor ive ever met has minimized this pain, lied to me and told me they'd do everything they can and didn't, and purposefully wasted my time. I even traveled to a different state to see rheumatologists, they saw me twice, i literally cried and begged these people to give me medicine for the pain, they gave me a shot that they said would help for 2 weeks, it helped for 30 minutes, when i asked them what to do they ignored me. They diagnosed me with fibro specifically so they could get me to leave them alone. I knew that diagnosis was incorrect. Last doctor i saw was a neurologist, i told her i needed to be tested for CRPS, because that was the only lead we had left. She scheduled a brain mri and nerve damage test, they came back normal. I brought up that there is no test for CRPS, she said i was right, and i could definitely have it, but she said she can't diagnose it and i need to see a pain doctor. I told her first time i saw her what i was looking for, and she mislead me into thinking she had experience with crps, and wasted my valuable time and money with tests that were irrelevant. My pain doctor wasn't an option because he doesn't treat crps because he doesn't believe it exists.

So i was lost

Every doctor i knew actively worked against me and none of them could refer me to a CRPS specialist.

But last week i simply googled "crps doctor near me", i found one close by, called them, they didn't require a referral, and the appointment was scheduled a week later. No 2 months wait time, no bullshit doctors approval. Just a phone call away. Im seeing them in 3 days. Wish me luck!

To others out there struggling to get diagnosed, im rooting for you.

#personal #disability #chronic illness #cripple punk

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emcant · 5 months

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Really sick reason to be happy but I can't stop smiling

TW/CW child abuse, mental illness, SH

One of my aunts calls our family "yours, mine, and ours", which is accurate. We've got me, my (step)brother, my dad, my stepmom, and my (half)sister. My brother is seven weeks younger than I am. Our parents got together when we were around four- "work spouses" who were both recently divorced- and our little sister came a few years later.

My bio mom and my brother's bio dad are a mess, somewhere between incapable and unwilling to parent full time. I've been in therapy off and on for most of my life and got my C-PTSD diagnosis at 15. My brother, god love him, just reached his first year of sobriety, having started drinking around the same age.

Naturally, every time we had a chance to say "This isn't normal" to our shared folks, we'd be told "Well of course you'd think that, you're used to your other parent!". The other person was a shovel used for digs: "This isn't their house!". They'd call me by my mom's name when I made them upset.

I assumed I was broken either because of my mom or because of the split. I can't know for certain, of course, but I think the cause of the C-PTSD was specifically that they traded custody daily, at my mom's request, until she moved out of state. She gives the silent treatment. My stepmom screams. The rules changed on me literally every 24 hours until I was 13.

Life evened out a lot when she did move away - but not entirely. I wound up in screamland 90% of the time rather than 50. I couldn't figure out why it didn't feel right or why it kept happening to me, but I believed my folks: I wasn't used to it because my mom's "parenting" is different and worse. I felt sickened to be involved with my mom at all. I thought that if only she wasn't waiting in the wings, I'd be entitled to a normal childhood, but because of her influence, I deserved everything I got.

Anyway, I have been texting my little sister about Christmas gifts for our brother, and out of nowhere, earlier this week, she tells me she's going to therapy for the first time... because she's realized it's not normal for your mom to scream at you literally all day and your dad to not intervene.

I haven't been home for more than three days since I moved out over a decade ago. I had a chance to pass through the town earlier this year, didn't do it, and still had panic attacks for two weeks straight. I can't hack it as someone's daughter; it makes me physically sick.

But that isn't a me problem.

Not a one of them could hack it as parents.

I've stopped hearing my mother's doubts in my head - I cut her off when I moved away. I've never been quite able to shut off my stepmom's. The screamer versus the silence... it fits.

I'm not a poser if I can't create when I don't have a comfortable space to work. I should not self-reject because I'm frightened. In the absence of an abuser, I'm finding that holding ideas in also hurts a lot.

I'm not stupid or useless or gearing up to be a failure for needing the introvert rest period and knowing my limits. It will not hold me back in life.

It isn't normal to want to hurt yourself. It isn't normal for people to laugh it off and talk about themselves when you tell them you want to hurt yourself.

The mandatory insincerity I grew up around has thankfully faded a lot - I don't think I could summarize that anymore if I tried.

I'm heartbroken that my little sister is going to need to learn these things - but ecstatic that she will, and is actively moving towards it. Had a similar conversation with our brother a few years ago, but of course, he has his dad in the wings; it hits differently now knowing that it would have happened no matter what. Children in that home are screamed at, hit, and not defended. Simple as.

I'm not what they wanted me to be.

I'd say that's "fine" but that doesn't even begin to cover it. It's exemplary.

#em can #farther beyond that #em will #cw sh mention #cw mom mention #cw child abuse #tw verbal abuse #tw mommy issues #tw sh implied

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compassionatereminders · 2 years

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hi Kat I've been following your blog for about a year now and reading your blog helps me so much in small and significant ways! you don't have to respond to this but I had a bit of a revelation/world of thoughts unleashed and I don't really have anywhere to go with this? thanks for lending an ear

I watched a psychologist talk about how narcissists make a big deal out of their birthdays. For the last few years I've really come to dread my birthdays, mostly because I felt so awful about receiving any kind of attention on my birthday and I didn't know why. at best, I concluded that it was because I had a lot of bad birthdays, but even then...I didn't know why my anxieties seemed so severe.

I think if my narcissism about my anxieties on getting validation on my birthday went unchecked I would have turned into one of those people who can never be pleased and constantly just setting myself up to have "ruined" birthdays. I felt really awful about feeling disappointed or upset on my birthdays so I specifically asked my friends not to make a big deal out of my birthday during my last couple of birthdays.

I believe now that it's because I grew up with a narcissist who would go out of their way to make me feel bad on my "special" day. Consciously or not, they likely felt a need to ruin a moment that wasn't centered around them and because I was around them so much they'd constantly fill my head with negative thoughts on my birthdays. I think I would have to literally get away from people on my birthday to not feel triggered because there's an ongoing "joke" that my parents always forgot the date of my birthday and for the first 5 or so years of my life I was celebrating my birthday on the wrong date (my parents are narcissists too). The narcissist in my life always brings it up on my birthday and uses it as an opportunity to walk down memory lane on how awful my parents were, and for my birthday I don't need that. I understand this is still something I have to work on (yay, time to get with my therapist about this!), but I feel better that I was right to suspect that my anxieties over a seemingly simple birthday stemmed from something not right.

I was tired of getting upset that people just wanted to tell me "happy birthday", but I understand it comes from a childhood of every birthday having been spoilt and so I expect all my birthdays to be like that. I know now that the narcissist will likely continue to try to ruin my birthdays so I just have to remember not to feed into their BS and simply go on with my birthday. I also don't need to spend my birthdays thinking about the bad ones. Hopefully, for my next birthday I will manage it better. And seriously, I don't like to fret over my birthdays but I am seeing where the anxieties stem from and it feels like I can actually see it with much more relaxed vibes

I'm so sorry that you've been surrounded by people who don't value and respect you like you deserve to be valued and respected, but I'm gonna have to question your use of the term narcissist. Narcissistic isn't just another term for abusive or toxic or self centered. Narcissistic Personality Disorder is an actual clinical diagnosis which actual people suffer from. And every time you call a shitty person a narcissist, you're strengthening an association between abuse and mental illness which isn't actually there. People with NPD usually developed NPD as a result of trauma and neglect, and it truly isn't fair to group them in with every shitty individual you come across. So the next time you wanna vent to me about the people who hurt you, please just call them abusers or assholes or any other term which doesn't further stigmatize an already stigmatized mental illness.

#chat with kat #cluster b ableism tw #ableism tw

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collymore · 2 months

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Gary Goldsmith isn't the solitary wife abuser linked to Kate, her spouse William is as well!

By Stanley Collymore

Kate's major hospital operation is no more authentic than Charles' so-called fucking cancer diagnosis is. Both a deceitfully lying and dishonest part of a desperately contrived, concerted and an utterly self-serving artifice to save Kate and William's pathetic asses and what's miserably left of this odiously dysfunctional family. The reality is that William, who is effectually a cowardly bastard, like all of his kind are, in addition to the egregiously bullying, utterly selfish, socio-psychopath and delusional, quite inured racist, white supremacist, master race, Aryan white Caucasian that he innately but highly stupidly and equally ludicrously believes that he is, is also a violently nasty wife beater, who quite literally has been knocking the living shits physically out of his convenient Stepford wife Kate Middleton. I've personally no sympathy whatever for Kate and actually on the information that I've been evidently rather assiduously confidentially and also trustworthily given, this white racist Karen is unquestionably essentially no different from the detritus piece of human shit that William likewise it.

Which brings the UK and other onlookers to the present situation that they're in and that the key players, the Palace, their quite bribed media acolytes and cronies, along with their own trolls assume they can get away with, and invariably do because they genuinely know they're dealing with a very intellectually challenged bunch of plebeian and serf sycophantic morons.

Kate and William aren't together and quite actually haven't been for some time. Also, while she lives in Windsor William actually lives in Kensington Palace in London. Not indistinct from Charles and Camilla living in separate homes 100 miles apart and as is well known was the situation with Philip and Liz Windsor. Notwithstanding all that, William who is most unquestionably so, a very closet Philip Schofield and undeniably lacking the balls as Philip Schofield did to own up to what he really is, in undeniably in the situation where he absolutely can't stand Kate, putting him in the very same situation as his father was with his mother Diana.

The principal difference being that Diana, the aristocrat that she was could, and if the Windsors didn't murder her as they did, would absolutely certainly in her own right carry on and independently like her son Harry do what she genuinely and honestly wanted to do. Kate, however, in marked contrast the stalking, gold digger trollop who has simply never actually done an honest day's work in her life and also is equally work shy, having gotten hold of the Christmas hamper that she connivingly got through marrying William, is not at all about to surrender it voluntarily. And as such, he William - and how very ironically that would bearing in mind the murder of his mother - his dad Charles and the rest of them can't actually embark on another risibly, "accidental" murder involving Kate, just as they'd also like to murderously and racially dispose of Meghan, they can't truly embark on that either; not realistically! So instead William, the psychopathic bully as he was with his brother Harry takes his ire and frustration out on Kate Middleton.

The problem is that ultimately like all very odious bullies this time William has simply literally gone too far; forcing Kate to flee to her parents with the children. A laughable state of affairs for me, as the Middletons, on their part, and distinctly from any really conscionable family simply can't or won't say and do anything because of whom the Windsors are; and most ironically as well, because of the undoubtedly principal role that Kate's mum Carole played in blatantly and sickeningly orchestrating the charade of social climbing and naturally rather self-serving interests that Carole contrived! A difficult situation to escape from let alone publicly explain, when your own, obviously evidently and distinctly sinister connivance does clearly turn on you and very viciously bites you on the ass!

As for Charles pathetic and desperately so, cancer charade; cancer is, unquestionably so, rather commonplace nowadays, as to be almost meaningless unless the bearer or sufferer of it specifies what precisely it actually is; something that Charles rather categorically hasn't done! And the obvious reason is that Charles fucking well hasn't got cancer! It's a sympathy garnering ploy callously and quite calculatedly conjoined with the Kate Middleton situation to simply milk as much sympathy as they can really get over the odiously evil, egregious, also malevolent and undeniably racist and still ongoing vendetta they've waged against Meghan, for essentially being an African American woman who reciprocally clearly fell in love with Harry who actually married her instead of some white and delusionally very perceived English rose broad, crucially and primarily because he essentially loves Meghan and rather cognizant of what was evilly done to his mother Diana intelligently doesn't sensibly indulge in the precept of a Stepford Wife and broodmare. But likewise in addition was equally well aware that the collective antipathy you all had and still do against Meghan wasn't simply just related to her very discernibly racial origin but the equally obnoxious and actually abysmally contemptible notion that clearly Meghan's own presence as well any children that she produced with Harry would quite distinctly and likewise discernibly; undeniably, contaminate the biological, societally perceived and as well the divine matrix of the actual British so-called monarchical family!

I personally, actually don't believe that you have cancer Charles, and basically couldn't give a fuck if you really do as the minimum respect that I had for you, has quite clearly long dissipated. In 1989 I distinctly wrote a journalistic article, effectively so while on a sabbatical year in Barbados, suggesting in it, obviously, that Barbados which has had a continuous link with England since 1625, and was clearly instrumental in catapulting the then obviously, European backwater of England into the global empire, which it so subsequently became - please, actually go and quite accurately check up on your real history man - should actually cease to be a realm and essentially become a sovereign republic. The article predictably generated much debate generally, within my cultural homeland Barbados, where it was written and published and my very close friend the Prime Minister rather laughingly said when I raised the issue generally with him "we've actually far more important things to do in Barbados than worry about white racists in Britain".

But a crucial torch had effectively, been lit by me, and interestingly influential friends of mine; similarly also, former local pupils as well as students I'd taught; members of the political establishment; and crucially a general cross section of the distinctly very astute and similarly politically well versed Bajan public, discernibly enthused by what I'd written, were in full agreement. On then leaving Barbados at the end of my official sabbatical session I essentially returned to Germany and my academic engagements but was nevertheless kept fully appraised significantly of what was going on back in Barbados politically, as I've always actually made sure was the case and still do!

Frankly Charles, and even with a palm full of salt I don't actually believe your clearly, quite ludicrous, obviously lying and rather pathetic story that you really have cancer. For starters you're very evidently because of who you are a very prominent and also discernibly a noted public figure. I'm also quite fully cognizant however that while it is both infra dig and equally also, likewise illegal for one's personal doctors or other medical staff to publicly disclose private, medical information pertaining to literally any patient; if, however, such a patient of their own volition publicly decides to truly disclose what's actually, medically wrong with them and that patient is a prominent figure like you are Charles; it's not actually breaking the bounds of ethics or basically confidentially, let alone going into the real realms of illegality if that quite prominent person and, no less so, the King of Britain had their very trusted medical consultant alongside them to just obviously confirm that particular ailment that the patient did voluntarily tell the public that they actually have. But no doctor, even to the ultra-rich is publicly going to openly lie, knowing that if he's really caught out he'd be struck off! And that's distinctively why none are really backing your ludicrous cancer story!

You have not requested that, Charles, and literally with spurious reasons, because it's obvious to anyone that isn't a fatuous serf, vacuous plebeian or a basically discernibly puerile, brownnosing sycophant that you're bloody well lying! There are irrefutably obviously, evidently manifestly loads of things quite literally rather undeniably wrong with you Charles Windsor which if you were not purportedly considered to be Homo sapiens you would basically have already been put down! For really how the Hell is it even feasible let alone possible for a man your age apparently wracked with cancer, quite essentially, one of Britain's major killer diseases to have his wife sauntering off just as he's actually milking his own quite dubious public support, in distinct tandem with Kate's own mysterious illness, actually on a tropical sunshine holiday alone, in the rich and full awareness that all her needs will be amply fulfilled while she is actually there.

In the meantime, you Charles, Camilla, William, Kate and obviously the rest of your lot see your rather sick stratagems against Harry and specifically Meghan, and even their children quite miserably fall apart, but all the same you crucially but rather asininely still persist in what you're so evidently quite vile and evilly doing; as you effectively desperately get your media and equally palace flunkies to simply offload your quite numerous failings onto Meghan, even though it's abundantly clear those stratagems just aren't working. But that's the nature of the white supremacist, delusional and white master race beasts, who like their routinely racist scum are so irrefutably dumb and cowardly they literally can't even take ownership of their own sick racism, which they always manifestly and emphatically most lyingly deny!

In a recent conversation I had with an American colleague, he succinctly very laudably effectively outlined the views on this very subject matter that I share. Brits, and basically white ones, he aptly emphasized, this guy is definitely white by the way, have rather unquestionably become very submissive while actually still remaining the feudal serfs and vile plebeians they've obviously, essentially always have been. Discernibly, he went on, you have this unquestionably quite solitary, incestuously inbred hereditary family sponging off you, yet effectively not regarding you with any dignity, to even tell you the most basic truth about Kate, William, or even Charles himself, pertaining to their actual situations. A state of affairs which you've every right to ask about and truthfully know, quite taking into account, that you pay taxes to permit them to live in and effectively enjoy the sumptuous lifestyle that they do have. Yet if you go against the actual grain and asked for answers you have prized sycophantic and arrogant cunts like Rebecca English purportedly editor in chief hack of the Daily Mail, while in her odiously sick and rather malevolent and simply egregious role most happily engaged in fostering, and undoubtedly poisonously promoting all the vitriolic crap she can muster against Harry, but specifically Meghan and their children, has the bloody audacity to vociferously berate those who sensible and similarly intelligently question the palace's lying narrative for which they handsome pay the likes of Rebecca English to support!

#RACISM

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selfdxculture · 2 months

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Self DX culture is your parents never believing you and being unable to go get a diagnosis on your own because you're a minor and no one would believe you and even if they did they'd probably need parental permission in order to diagnose you anyways

#self diagnosed culture #negative

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leahgecko · 8 months

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it's been almost a year since i've sat down to write one of these holy shit. i don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing? there's so much to say but i don't even know where to start? i went to the blue ridge rock fest this year and it got canceled because of weather after like 3 days. which, i'm not exactly complaining? it was a blast while it lasted but also a little bittersweet since it was something that i knew you would've LOVED and it was starting to hit me in the feels. now i'm just vibing out in nashville which is also something you would've loved lmao.

i've been sober for like a year and a half now. from narcotics, not alcohol lmao. ya girl still needs her tequila. sometimes, on the shitty days when i'm ready to cave, i can hear you go all "don't you fuckin DARE." it's insane how you're still my voice of reason sometimes. idk... this is the first time in my life that i've felt like i'm actually doing decent? i've been doing a lot of work on my inner self, trying to unlearn shitty habits... and i still have a lot of work to go. but like, progress is progress, right?

there's so much shit happening right now but i'm just kinda taking it a day at a time. my momma got a breast cancer diagnosis a few weeks ago and i'm also dealing with some health shit myself that i'm still coming to terms with. then there's just shit with my 'father' and i'm like what the actual fuck is happening rn. it is what it is i guess and i'll just keep dealing with it but sometimes i'd like a break.

once i get back home, i gotta go see your parents. they told me i could decorate their house again for halloween and i'm so excited. i feel like i haven't been able to see them as much as i'd like because i've been so busy but they've always been understanding about it. tbh, sometimes i'd wish they've just get mad about it but i know that'll never happen.

our girl is in highschool now and z is a full grown adult. it's kinda hard to believe. i'm glad that they're healthy and thriving but holy shit i wish they'd stay smol. kenzi still finds ways to bring you up in our conversations and it makes my heart happy knowing that you were so so loved. not only by me, but by literally everyone who knew you. i just wish you could've seen it before it was too late.

until next time, fly high nerd. i love you.

#letters to jacko

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blue-kyber · 1 year

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My mom told me that what I'd described as my ADHD symptoms - attention, motivation, stimulation, things that really suck, things that don't, ect. - is just "The way things are, and everyone is like that."

Thanks to therapy, a clinical diagnosis, accomodations, and medication to manage my ADHD and autism, I finally understood something...

Her "The way things are" response is a 'stop complaining. everyone goes through this' lie.

No, everyone DOESN'T go through this.

It's actually harder than "The way things are" for someone who's neurodivergent.

She's been made to believe that her experience of suffering and struggle is the norm for everyone, because everyone else told her it was, believing she experienced the world the same way they did. So they were forcing her to follow rules she can't due to literally being a different type of human. We're living in a world run by another type of human. Because we're the minority, we're the ones who get punished for not being that type of human.

Whenever she struggled and complained or cried, they'd say, "That's just the way it is" to shut her up and make her feel ashamed and selfish. It immediately invalidated her, her struggles, her mental and physical efforts, the sheer amount of energy she had to use to be "normal," her internal fights, and her pain - like what she goes through doesn't matter, because that's not the way they experience it. Why should it be harder for you when it's not that hard for them?

The standard "just the way it is" belongs to neurotypicals.

That "just the way it is" is compounded for us into a different level of suffering, and we're made to feel wrong by trying 200% harder to do the same thing they do and failing anyway, and then being punished for trying and failing. Over and over and over and over again, 24/7, 365, for how ever many years we're alive. Being told, "you're not even trying" when you're trying so hard you want to rip your skin off and scream in murderous frustration all the way down to your root chakra, because you still. can't. do it.

I told her ADHD is genetic. So is autism. I got my windows OS from her and dad. My brother is autistic, and my sister has bad enough ADHD that she was noticed and treated as a kid in an era when doctors weren't looking for ADHD in girls, because it didn't present like it did in white 10 year old boys of suburbia. She was bad enough to be noticed.

I wasn't. I was considered the "normal child."

I now have a clinical diagnosis for ADHD and autism. At age 41.

Both went completely under the radar, and you'd better believe I've suffered a plethora of lifelong self-esteem, self-construct, self-worth, and self-image problems that were never addressed because I was "normal." But I suffered, and no one believed me, despite the signs being there. I kept wondering why I couldn't be like everyone else. I was ignored. No one gave me an answer as to why I was broken, wrong, defective. And I was punished, gaslit, and emotionally abused and used for decades for it.

The difficulty I had - still have - to do things was invalidated all my life, which invalidated me, and made my efforts...meaningless.

Do you know I kicked a hole through drywall once as a kid because of this?

I smashed my radio when I was a kid because of this.

I destroyed a vast amount of my personal belongings because of this.

I used to hit myself repeatedly in the head with a dictionary as recently as 2 years ago because of this just to make these horrible feelings and pain stop. Sometimes it would take five or six whacks for my brain and body to go numb, and to finally get away from it. I dealt with the headaches with ibuprofen.

I tried to commit suicide twice because of this.

We're living in a world run by Mac users, and we're expected to do things as easily as they can, when the two OS's aren't compatible at all.

She was carrying a boulder on her back without help and the people telling her "that's just how it is" had their boulder in a cart with wheels on it. They thought she had a cart with wheels when she never did. She never even had a cart she could drag to make it at least a little easier. She had no accommodations to allow her Windows OS to operate in a Mac world. But she was always told that that's what everyone else felt.

And she kept going, piling on the same issues I have, plus anxiety. And she still kept fighting.

This is why I say my mom is the strongest woman I've ever known. She's kind-hearted with a beautiful soul, and she grew up being punished for being a different type of human without ever knowing it.

We were 'government cheese' poor despite her working 2 jobs, and at one point going to college, but she never let us feel that way. She always put family first.

My mom's been fighting a battle all her life that she should have never had to fight, and it pisses me off what this world did to her light. Yeah, she made a lot of mistakes, but they might have been avoided if someone had taken the time, energy, and effort to listen to her and believe her. And help her.

"That's just the way it is" is coined by neurotypicals who think everyone else experiences things the way they do, and expects everyone to fall in line.

It's an easy answer given by stupid, controlling, apathetic, close-minded, singular brain-celled neanderthals with an IQ of 4 who eat their toenails and are incapable of seeing beyond their own reality.

We grew to believe it's supposed to be crushing when it's not. This world is a dictatorship and we're the rebels.

We can't choose to function the same way just because someone else orders us to. We can't just decide not to be ADHD anymore - like it's always been a behavioral issue and a choice in the first place rather than a neurological issue we have negative 1,000 control over. No. You don't just...become not disabled anymore just because you're not being helped. Life actually gets a hell of a lot harder without help.

For us to get through it and even thrive takes far more mental strength than a neurotypical can imagine.

And yet we're still made to feel like it's our choice to be forgetful, or to not be able to do the dishes, or pay the bills, or go to bed on time, or show up on time, or wake up on time, or do the laundry, or send that email, or clean out the cat box, or clean up that pile of donation clothes that's been sitting on the floor for six months. We're still made to feel like the effort we've put into trying to do them doesn't count.

"Just the way it is" is a neurotypical cop-out. It's a lie meant to make them feel better about themselves, and to belittle you.

It isn't supposed to be this hard. And it wouldn't be this hard if we had accomodations to help us.

...

Oh, and I've come to realize through therapy that the physicality of my novel's MC being so polar opposite from those he grew up around and a world he grew up in is a visual representation of having ADHD and learning to navigate and survive in a world not built to accommodate him.

#an ADHD rant #Turning the lights on for my mom's perspective of what 'that's the way it is' actually is.#A rant #long post

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marinsawakening · 4 years

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Okay so I readily acknowledge that I know jack shit about politics/how to run a community or society/whatever, and I don’t generally like to get involved with that for this reason, but I hope your self-sustained anti-capitalist anarchist future vision contains some kind of method for caring for those who cannot care for themselves other than just ‘the community will do it!’ because I promise you they won’t. Or at least they won’t do it well. If I can’t get people to listen to the fact that I can’t garden now, when there is no real reason for me to be gardening, they sure as fuck aren’t gonna listen to me in a solarpunk future.

Some people need synthesized medication that you cannot replace with herbal meds or be synthesized outside of a lab. Some people need 24/7 care that only specialized workers can provide. Some people need care that the average person is not equipped or trained to handle. Some people will physically not be able to handle living in a self-sustained fashion without outside help. Some people will simply forever be the weird one out, the one that everyone avoids because they have tics or they stim or they talk weirdly or not at all or they see things that aren’t there or for a variety of reasons, and when they start flagging, they community is just as likely (if not more likely) to ignore them as they are to help them. Disabled people aren’t gonna disappear just bc capitalism did.

So unless you want all disabled people to go extinct in your new utopia, you’re gonna have to plan around that, and until I see someone discuss this in depth, I’m not gonna be very down with whatever future vision you got.

#for the record this is not vaguing about a specific idea or specific person or whatever #i'm sure more established utopian ideas like solarpunk or whatever have at the very least /thought/ about this #but i never see anyone discuss this in any meaningful way and from a lot of the attitudes coming out of those communities i uh #start questioning how well this is going to function for disabled people #because i basically see a lot of people go gaga over the idea of living in small self-sustained communities #and that's valid and all that but like. if that's the way i grew up i would've been fucking miserable #i'm pretty much always tired to the point where chronic fatigue is the only way i can properly describe it #which would've prevented me from doing much of anything to consistently contribute to the community #i'm bad at communicating with people and would've been even worse if i hadn't gotten therapy for it #meaning that in a small community with presumably no resources for evaluating autistic children i would've been fucked #constantly left out and derided for everything and forced beyond my limits even more than i am now #bc nobody would believe that my limits actually existed without a fucking diagnosis of some kind #i'd probably still have massive anger issues that very well might've led to me seriously injuring someone #not to mention that i can't be around people 24/7 but in a commune like the way people often describe that this would be mandatory #it would lead to a mental breakdown that neither i nor anyone in the commune could have any way of dealing with #and i would be lucky; i'd be capable of going on; even miserable; but many others would probably straight up die #like the system now is by no means perfect but all those anarchist ideas i've seen thusfar basically disregard how necessary #a comprehensive and at least somewhat standardized health care system is #like i've had a LOT of interaction with people who want a self-sustaining anarchist anti-capitalist future of some kind #and NONE have talked about what they'd do with people who need specialized equipment you can only find in hospitals #or people who need to take pain meds or anti-depressants or insulin or anti-psychosis meds like #i'm just saying it's a fun idea to live off the land in large communes but you need to make sure that disabled people can do it too #my posts

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arsonistslut · 3 years

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Chapter 9: Reminders of Tragedy

"Hey, Jane!"

"Hey, Ingrid! How is my favorite person in the world?"

Jane's girlfriend of a good 9 years now happily walked over and kissed her on the cheek, beaming as she always seemed to do whenever she looked at her lover.

"Amazing now that you're here. Hey, you wanna go to that party Randy's having at his house tomorrow?"

"He's having a party? I didn't figure him the partying type."

"Despite the whole business parents thing, he is a real party animal. Hey, you know what's weird about the party?"

"What is?"

"He invited that Jeff guy there..y'know, that creep with the Conduct Disorder?"

She gestured to the tall, dark clothed young adult that sat alone at a lunch table nearby, playing with a switchblade.

"Hey, I remember him being pretty nice.."

"Remember him? You two date at some point?"

"We did, actually, wayyyy back."

Jane smirked when she saw the look of surprise and pride on Ingrid's face when she realized she guessed right.

"What was he like?"

"He was a sweetheart. Cheesy, but a sweetheart. Hell, even cheesier than me."

"Jane, you've carved our names into multiple trees. There's no out-cheesing that."

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how we met, either. My dad was out mowing the lawn, and he accidentally ran over a rock and it hit Jeff in the head."

"Oof, that sounds bad.."

"I visited him in the hospital with my parents one time, and I will never forget what he said to me as a pick-up line."

"What did he say?"

Jane cleared her throat, before trying her darndest to do an impression of a young Jeff.

"Did you come from heaven? Because you look like an angel!"

Ingrid couldn't help but let out a giggle as she quickly pulled Jane into her arms.

"Aww, that sounds so cute!"

"It was!"

Jeff himself was hearing this conversation from afar, the little tricks he played with his knife not an adequate distraction from the constant reminder of what could've been.

"I don't think he handled our breakup too well..nobody really wanted to treat him as anything other than a freak after his diagnosis went public. One time, I heard him ranting to his brother about how it was hypocritical of the school to do a health topic on depression when they wouldn't stop judging him for his CD."

"Sheesh, it sounds like he's been through a lot..poor kid could use a friend."

"It doesn't really look like he wants any. Liu isn't sitting with him..that's weird, Liu always sits with him."

"Prolly had an argument or something, you know siblings."

"Yeah.."

The day continued without incident, Jeffrey getting home at the same time as usual..yet his mind was not thinking about the party, or school, he was thinking about Jane and Ingrid. Why was Jane so special that she had everything she wanted in life and not him? What crime did he commit that landed him with absent parents, demonization from his peers, and a fucking smile cut into his face? That love, that relationship they had..Jeff came to the conclusion that it was something to be destroyed.

Liu, meanwhile, was..struggling with something. Something he never expected would be a problem in his life. Lately, he began having these thoughts..these violent, awful, intrusive thoughts, thoughts that seemed to be begging to be spoken aloud, the actions they describe seeming to grow more and more appealing as time passed.

Kill Randy.

Maim Keith.

Skin Troy like the cattle he is.

Maybe if he gave the thoughts an identity, they'd be easier to handle, he thought as he thought of a name for these urges..one stood out from the others. Not at all goofy, but not as laughably edgy as the other options.

Chapter 10: Enter Sully

Liu ended up speaking to Sully for the entire night..and even into the morning. When Jeff woke up the next morning, he could already hear Liu downstairs talking with..someone.

"It's sad, really..so concerned about themselves..no time spared for you."

"I-I guess..but they've got more important things to worry about.."

"Child, they do not have a thought in them about you. They're all self centered egomaniacs that would rather get pushed around by a genetic failure of a human rather than do anything about their situation!"

"That's not true, Sully! You're lying!"

A horrible growl soon came from the room.

"We are friends, child! Friends do not lie to each other, do they?"

"I..I guess not..goodbye for now, Sully."

"Where are you going?"

"I..I need some time to think."

Liu got back up, jumping from fear when he saw his brother staring at him.

"Holy shit, Jeff! You scared me!"

"I bet."

Awkward silence soon filled the dining room where they stood.

"Hey, Jeff...?"

"What?"

"I'm..sorry about punching you, and saying all that shit about you. I shouldn't have done that."

"No shit, Sherlock."

The elder brother turned around and began walking back up to his room, but not before his brother called out to him.

"Hey..is there any way I could make things up between us?"

"You could make things up by not betraying my trust again. You're all I've got, Liu..don't pull a Jane and fuck it up for me."

Liu always did question that grudge Jeff held for his ex, after all, he chatted with her in the past, and it always seemed like she genuinely enjoyed what her and Jeff had, and she always felt bad for leaving him like that. Hell, it sounded like it was as painful for her to leave him as it was for him to find out that his girlfriend left him. He was tempted to point that out, but he feared ruining things with his brother again.

"Alright.."

Chapter 11: A Hell of A Party

When Jane and Ingrid rounded the corner home, they found..a disturbing sight. A dead raccoon laying in the middle of the street, it's guts ripped out of it's body and thrown aside, Jeff gleefully pawing through the freshly murdered animal, childishly gawking and giggling over the corpse.

"Hey, Jeffrey! What happened here, what the fuck did you do?!"

Ingrid cried out to the blood-soaked kid, who looked up at her, confusion riddling his bloodied face.

"I killed a raccoon. It's not like anyone's gonna miss it."

"Why, you little-"

Ingrid slapped Jeffrey right across the face, knocking him to the ground as Jane held her girlfriend back and tried to keep the situation from escalating any further.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"You killed a helpless animal, you freak!!"

"I oughta kill you next, you piece of-"

Woods choked on his own spittle as he made his threat, never having been particularly..elegant with his words.

"Oh, really?! I'll kick your teeth down your fucking throat!"

"I swear to God, I'll strangle you with your own fucking intestines!!"

When Jeff reached for his switchblade, Jane panicked and grabbed her lover's hand, running off with her as Woods continued to scream at them.

"Your last words better be some Mark Twain shit, because it's going on your tombstone!! You hear me?!"

That experience was all on Jane's mind as she watched Jeff steadily get more and more wasted by the bonfire outside as time went on, at least, what glimpses she could catch of him when she wasn't busy dancing with the other students. Randy was also outside, reluctantly playing Truth Or Dare with the others as well as his increasingly hot and bothered enemy.

"Ok, Jeff!"

"Whaddup, baby?~"

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare, hit me with the worst ya got!"

"Slow dance with Randy."

"What the-no! I'm straight as a arrow, dude!"

"So is spaghetti until it gets wet~"

"Jeff, never say that again."

"C'mooooon, do the dare, ya pussy~ I don't bite!~"

Woods took his time getting up, but still had enough cognitive function to put on Grover Washington Jr's "Just The Two Of Us", to try and improve the mood, but Randy still wasn't having any of it. In a last ditch effort to try and seduce Randy, Jeffrey just..up and took his shirt off. That'll get things going, right? No, it didn't. Despite some swooning from some of his classmates, Randy himself didn't want any part of this. He was a few drinks deep as well, so in a drunken haze, he grabbed one of the bottles of booze they had, took a running start, and smashed it right over Jeff's head. The problem with that is that they were only a couple feet away from a bonfire, so when Jeff stumbled backward, he fell right into it, the alcohol on his exposed flesh quickly igniting. He quickly burst into flames, screaming and running off as the fire quickly seared his body, every remaining nerve ending he had that wasn't burnt away shocking his body with waves of pain. He could feel his scalp burning up once his hair was scorched away, finally finding solace in a nearby puddle that put out the flames. Jeff could see his life flashing before his eyes..his family, his brother..that was all he could see. As Randy and the other students' screams of horror faded away, Woods silently cursed himself for not doing anything more with his life..a single bloody tear rolled down his face as he shut his eyes for what he believed would be the last time.

Chapter 12: The End Of The Beginning

Suddenly..he was in some sort of void. The ground beneath him was black as pitch, and footsteps began to grow ever closer to him. When Jeff looked to see who was approaching, he found no earthly being waiting for his attention. When he laid his eyes on whatever approached, the previously totally dark void began to turn a sickly red. What stood before him was a monster unlike any other, an otherwordly monster many believed to be a mere tall tale.

HE COMES.

#creepypasta #jeffery woods #liu woods #sully #zalgo #tw violence #tw animal moidah #tw jeff fucking burns

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steponmepinkjun · 3 years

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also abt ur adhd post i am afab and have adhd and it took me literal years to get diagnosed which cost FORTUNES of money only for the doctors too look me up and down and say nope because girls adhd happens to be different then boys adhd before i actually got a diagnosis.

YES ABSOLUTELY. ON EVERY LEVEL THIS. As a teenager my anxiety and depression were out of control, I grew up in poverty in an abusive household, and wasn't able to be properly diagnosed with ADHD until I was much older.

And how was I diagnosed, you ask? My first psych doctor was a lunatic, incredibly irresponsible. I spent years bouncing from antidepressant to antidepressant, with no relief. One day I mentioned my older sister has adhd, and wondered if I might have it too, and he went hmmmm that's interesting. On a whim, he said, "let's try a stimulant." I came back a month later and was like "WHY IS MY LIFE SO MUCH BETTER ON THESE MEDS?" He said, "It was just an idea, but it looks like you might have adhd. Let's get you tested." And what do you know, I meet all the symptoms. Because of the backwards way I was diagnosed, I know none of my doctors after him would ever take it as fact. They would never respect it. They would deny it outright and call me a drug seeker, I KNOW IT. Anyone who's ever dealt with doctors knows it. But I've been re-tested and my ADHD meds have been the difference between committing suicide, and being able to have a job, an apartment, friends, and happiness. But because I was diagnosed after first self-diagnosing, and then officially diagnosed by a doctor who has since lost his license, if any of my current practitioners found out, they'd take me off all my meds and throw me back in fucking talk therapy and ruin my life. If I hadn't started treatment for my ADHD, I would be dead now. I would have killed myself by now.

And this is also key, I didn't have the jargon to properly convey what I was experiencing to doctors for many years before I began researching ADHD independebtly. Many people who self-diagnose have tried in vain to explain their symptoms to doctors who simply don't understand. I was also taught that many of my symptoms were just "part of life," and didn't disclose them. This refusal to let patients learn and take control of their health fuels the inability to properly advocate for ourselves, even in the best of situations. If we are shamed for researching our symptoms in order to better understand our own issues, then we won't be able to aquire the tools to even begin to explain our symptoms properly, let alone to advocate for our health.

Like I can't believe I have to say this, but gatekeeping diagnostics from people who don't have access to decent Healthcare is just... Pointlessly cruel? I don't understand the point of it. Maybe some people find it annoying to see people diagnose themselves with serious psychotic disorders, but I can guarantee it doesn't mean their doctor is giving them Haldol to pop like mints just because of their insistence. Self-diagnoses rarely equates to medical treatment based on it. So I don't see what the point of it is other than continual demonizing of people who are ill. (And if you feel the need to explain the point of it to me, save it. I don't care and I don't want to know.)

Those of us without access to Healthcare really don't have any choice but to self diagnose. We can't get doctors to listen or to care, and they won't even explain side effects of drugs to us, let alone talk us through our health struggles.

#People with universal Healthcare DONT INTERACT #Because you don't understand and you never will

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