#if that's the case then my psychiatric care will also go down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loganlostitall · 3 months

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Better Off Dead

Rating: ehh… I’ll go with 13+

Word count: 2k

Characters: Rick Grimes x Gender neutral reader

Setting: Alexandria, after TOWL ep 1 (SPOILERS!!!)

Content warnings: HUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR THE NEW EPISODE!!!!!!!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN READING!!! That’s two warnings don’t blame me. Self harm and suicidal ideation, this is an almost entirely mental health related drabble. Heavy talk of cutting and scars. Typical TWD themes.

Summary: FINAL SPOILER WARNING! Rick hasn’t even been back for a full day. He is also not the only one who suffered a psychiatric decline over the years you spent apart. Both you and him are unaware that the other was in a similar spot. Hurt/comfort ensues.

Author’s note: Did NOT expect to be writing a Rick x reader in the middle of the goddamn night but my theory about Rick’s hand got proven right within not even five minutes and I was losing my shit. I started trying to think of plot immediately and once I saw more on mental health I was gone. Me and my love for mentally ill men <3

I wanted to post this the same night as release it fought me hard 😭 never expected to be doing Rick x reader and wanted to be perfect. Once again, the title is linked to the songspo so you can listen along.

Unbeta’d again, hope this is decent for u guys :3

The very moment you woke up, the first thing you became aware of was the fact that you found yourself in bed alone. Not unlike all the other nights. It was routine by now. The occasional, unique circumstance of this particular morning though, was the urge. Unshakable. All encompassing. It crashed through your brain and down into your body, pulsing through your veins, begging to be drawn out and released. Trapped under your skin. Grief.

It was almost completely overwhelming, tears flooding your lower eyelids and venturing down to your lips just as a strangled sob ripped from between them, the sound a little hoarse from your voice being unused during sleep.

You reached out blindly to the nightstand, your fingers grasping for the knife you always kept at your bedside in case of waking up to a walker breach or anything similar. Even through blurred vision, you found the handle, and brought the blade to the criss-crossed skin of your arm.

What a way to start off the morning with a bang.

Inflicting harm over previously healed scars always made you flinch harder. But you didn’t care that it hurt more. If anything, you appreciated it. It was more effective, faster. You never felt the need to leave quite as many.

Hissing through your teeth, you sat the knife down on your knee and brought your pointer and middle fingers to either side of the new wound and spread it open, luring more blood to flow out. It tickled as the thick crimson rolled down your wrist and came to a stop right where the skin curves to the heel of your palm, and you grabbed the handle once more to start the process over again.

Halfway through the next was when the door creaked.

You practically jumped out of your skin, throwing the reddened blade to clatter on the floor and snatching the covers to pull back over yourself, press them to your arm. Your free hand wiped the tears from your face as you sniffled, clearing up your sight well enough to see….

Rick. Blue eyes darkened by confusion and worry.

He stepped in cautiously, taking care to slowly and quietly shut the door behind himself and return his attention back to you. “Hey, what are you doing that for?”

“Wh— what the fuck?”

It left you as no more than a whisper, and you knew that same confusion was reflected on your own face. Rick wasn’t supposed to be here. ‘Am I hallucinating?’

“No, you’re not hallucinating. I’m right here.” Rick had nearly asked if you were okay, but stopped himself short. He’d just walked in on you cutting yourself, there was only one answer that you would, or could, give him.

You were apparently not fully awake yet, or you were still reeling from the self harm, because you’d seemingly asked the question out loud and not in your head.

His manufactured arm piece remained immobile at his side while his real hand patted himself absently in various locations, the pockets of his shirt as well as on each side of his jeans, searching for something although knowing that it wasn’t there. Rather than stand there idiotically, Rick held up a finger to signal ‘one second’ and made his way further into the room, dropping to one knee to pick up the knife you’d flung down carelessly and wiping the blood onto his shirt. And then, while he was down there, he pulled open each drawer of your nightstand until he actually found what he was looking for. Bandages. Or, more specifically, a small med kit with bandages in it. Packed full of random, useful supplies.

He remained kneeling at your bedside and spoke as he opened it. “Already forgot that you have me back?” His smile had an odd edge to it, like he was happy to see you but simultaneously disheartened by the state you were in, and concerned about the fact you’d forgotten. There was so much emotion on his face your eyes filled again.

“Yeah, I guess, I-”

You jumped when Rick pulled the blanket away from your arm and instinctively drew it back toward your chest, shielding the mess of dried blood from his worried gaze, but he simply reached for it again and coaxed it back to himself. Tentatively, not one sign of upset visible on him.

As he assessed the damage, you ashamedly looked elsewhere and returned to what you had previously been saying. “When Siddiq was still around, he diagnosed me with C-PTSD. Honestly, I think we all have something like that by now.” Laughing weakly, you bit the inside of your cheek for a few moments as Rick took care to clean the area with a small, square cloth soaked with witch hazel. It wasn’t the medication that burned, just the contact. You carried on. “He told me one of the side-effects would be my memory. Short-term, long-term, or even both… so, probably that and the fact I dreamed about finding you as a walker and having to put that knife between your eyes.”

A flare of insecurity sparked in your chest when that last statement had Rick’s eyes flitting to yours. Suddenly you found yourself critically self-conscious that he’d decide you were too much work now and leave to find better. Memory problems? Who would bother dealing with that?

“Okay,” he said surely, his voice steady. “That’s okay.” You were overwhelmed with the urge to hug him, but it would have to wait until you had your arm back. After a moment of eye contact for a second time, Rick patted the skin dry with a square of gauze and shook a small bottle of bactine before spraying a thin layer on top of the area.

The tingle of numbness was immediate. You sighed in relief as he rolled a Q-tip covered in Vaseline over each laceration and used that same last piece of gauze to delicately wipe up the excess surrounding them. And then to preserve resources, Rick opted not to open another and instead flipped that pad over to lay the dry side on your wrist; wrapped a length of blue self adherent cohesive bandage around it a few times to keep the wound dressing in place. Brought the heel of your palm to his lips, only to pause when his eyes wandered to find the array of scars littering your inner forearm. There was one in particular that he couldn’t take his attention off of.

Trailing the pad of his thumb down the length of your arm, you glanced down to see what he was looking at.

And felt nauseous.

“This one?” he asked faintly, voice barely discernible. Jagged, raised skin followed your radial artery vertically. Perpetrated on yourself while you’d searched for him.

You shrugged in an attempt to play it off as a lot calmer than you actually were. “Didn’t go deep enough.” Shame, once again, enveloped you. You felt fucking pathetic.

“Me either.”

The words felt like a bucket of ice water being dumped right over your head. Freezing your entire body, soaking your flesh and seeping beneath it to chill your bones. Your eyes found his natural fingers to discover that they were pulling his shirt collar away from his neck to reveal a slash that scabbed very recently going about a fourth of the way across his throat. Your vision swam again.

“You’re here now,” you tried. It was a lousy consolation, but you still weren’t… entirely grounded yet. Pushing yourself up to sit on your knees, Rick muttering ‘careful’ under his breath as you put weight on the hand connected to your injured arm to lean the upper half of your body off the edge of the bed, you nestled your lips just above the new scar and kissed his thrumming pulse. “We’re both here.” The two of you were equally as anxious; the way his heart was racing proved that fact. Perhaps even for the same reasons. Feeling exposed.

It was hardly a long journey from Philadelphia to Virginia. You made it back with Rick before the day was over. Subsequently, he had barely been here for twelve hours. Perhaps you hadn’t spent enough time together yet for the fact that Rick was home to truly register with you.

It seemed he may have had the same idea.

He offered you a tired half-smile and stood, closing up the med kit and returning it to its previous location only to round to the other side of the bed, make quick work of kicking off his boots, and climb in beneath the blanket. Rolling to face him, you sidled up to rest your forehead on his chest immediately, and his genuine arm fell over your side whilst the sculpted metal one lie idle beneath the pillows. The numbing from bactine was still a thing to revel over because it meant you could throw your arm over his bicep and card your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. You did not miss Rick’s short hair. His fingers soothed up and down your back in a comforting manner and you both laid utterly still, breathing the same air, sharing the same body heat.

“I’m grateful I didn’t go deep enough,” he whispered once the silence stretched uncomfortably. “You found me.”

For what was probably not the last time today, your eyes stung again. And yet, you opted to lift the spirits of him and yourself with a joke. It was the first thing that came to mind. “Well, you do seem to fail at slitting throats, Rick.”

You grinned up at him when he scoffed; giggled when he started to chuckle himself. The pair of you sounded as exhausted as you both looked, and when the laughter died out, you absorbed each other again. His presence was so consoling to your brain that had successfully convinced itself he was still gone, that after a length of time you realized you’d fall back asleep soon. And Rick would probably ensure you didn’t wake up alone again.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to do something, though.

Propping yourself up on your right elbow, you blinked sleep out of your heavy eyes while pulling weakly at his new arm attachment; more as a question rather than an unpermitted attempt to uncover it. “Can… can I look?”

Unease cast a shadow over his blue eyes, despite the trust in them, and he nodded. Which you’d only half expected him to do. You’d braced yourself for a no.

You would see it eventually, so he figured it was best to do it now and get it out of the way rather than prolong it.

Sitting your pillow off to lean it against the headboard, Rick adjusted and repositioned to lay on his back instead, which gave you a better opportunity to look at his hand. It was strapped on in two different places; one at the elbow, and one at the shoulder. The fingers were hyper-realistic, yet closed into a fist with no opening for a weapon to be gripped. It was almost as if he could read your mind, because Rick drew his arm away from you to demonstrate the release of a blade triggered in the wrist.

You lifted a finger to trail it along the sharp edge of the custom weaponized extension and hissed through grit teeth when it left a thin, shallow cut on your fingertip.

“I’m not getting the med kit back out.” He finished saying it with a playfully chastising call of your name.

No need to bother. You sucked the blood from the pad of your finger and threw him a drowsy smirk. “This is hot.”

That definitely caught him off guard.

“Yeah?” Rick shook his head with a dampened smile. “Well, I’m glad you see my suffering as an upgrade.”

The greatest salve for your pain was his lips on yours. Maybe it would do the same for his wounded pride.

Quite the valid reason to try it.

“Shut up.”

Your smile met his, and they stayed there even after you fell asleep again. This time, dreaming of the future.

National suicide and crisis hotline: call or text 988

Help with self harm: text CONNECT to 741741

LGBTQ+ inclusive resource: https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/article/support-for-self-harm-recovery/

Numbers for different parts of the world: https://blog.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines/

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perfectbluez · 2 years

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You Ghost

Genre: romance / horror / smut / short story

Main characters: baekhyun x you / female reader

Warnings: mentions of mental illness / schizophrenia / depression / anxiety / suicide / alcoholism / violence / major character death

Description: Starting a new life at a new town, you quickly find the perfect house to live in and start your psychiatric practice. Days go by smoothly, until the patient with the styled undercut hair comes by and wrecks havoc in your peaceful life.

Author’s Note: This story is inspired by Baekhyun’s song Ghost and American horror story-Murder House.

"Unnie! I really miss you so much. Why did you have to pack up and leave me like this?" Sana, your little sister who had just turned seventeen the previous month, whines in her baby voice.

You smile, vividly imagining her face as if she is standing right in front of you, her lips turned down into the pout she tries so hard to pull off as angry, but turns out anything but adorable.

"You know why my sweet baby. It's for me to earn more money so I can send you to a nice, big university. You're all I have left, right?" You imagine Sana's cute face fall a little through the phone, "I miss mom and dad so much," she whispers, in the littlest of voices. The pain you felt at the loss of your parents sometimes seemed nothing when compared to Sana’s young soul. "I know. Me too, sweetie, me too," you whisper, your eyes watering up instantly, thinking of the cruel way a simple car accident took the lives of the people you had loved the most in your entire life. But you had promised them that you would take the best care of Sana as they had cared for you. So you quickly wipe your eyes and adjust your spectacles as you say, "Listen, you must quickly finish your high school at Aunt Yuri's place, and by the end of this year, you can come by and stay with me, permanently!" Sana already knew this, but reminding each other every time how it’ll be only one year until you two would be united didn't get any less exciting. Besides, talking about staying with her sister made Sana the happiest. "Really? Do you really promise?" Sana's little voice chirps, and you can already tell the creeping smile that was about to break through with just one word. "Promise!" you squeal, and another squeal adds to your one as you visibly hear your 17-year-old sister jump up from where ever she was sitting. "Oh Unnie! I promise too that I will be the best student and graduate faster than anyone else so I can come live with you sooner. I love you so, so much! Oh btw, Aunt Yuri showed me the photos of the house, it is so big and pretty. How did you find such a beautiful house so fast out there?" That, was a mystery to you, too.

It wasn't only the most beautiful house you came across while searching for one, but it had also come at a really low price.

You had needed to start your psychiatric practice as soon as possible, so you didn't get the time to mull over any suspicious reasons behind getting a house like this at such a low price. You had to think about Sana and her future. So you had taken it. It still needed a lot of time to become your own, most of your boxes left unopen upstairs. But downstairs, the living room- and the room you loved so much - had been refurnished as your office. The place where you'll see your outpatients, was pretty much settled as well. All thanks to your best friend and your part-time assistant- Jihyo. As if she knew you had thought of her, Jihyo's head pops in through the mahogany double doors to your office, smiling her pretty smile as she says, "Your first patient of the day is here, Doctor. Should I let them in?" You bid Sana a loved filled goodbye and with her sweet giggles warming your body, you nod towards Jihyo, standing up from your comfortable position in your oversized bronze accent armchair. Smiling slightly, you say,

"I'm ready."

The first patient was a 30-year-old man with mild case of schizophrenia. The condition had developed after he had completed his military enlistment, and even though his previous doctors listed it as not dangerous, to you, it seemed something more.

"I can't sleep at night anymore, Doctor. I feel like if I do, they are gonna break into my house and kidnap me." he breathes slowly as he says his worst fears, his beautiful, cat eyes restless and red at their rims. "Who will, Minseok sshi?" "The North Korean spies," he states with utter confidence, and there was no way he was a manipulative liar. His eyes were like an open book.

He actually, genuinely believed the North Korean spies were going to topple the boundaries just to take him, a mere civilian who was just finishing his mandatory army training, from the comfort of his home and kill him.

"Okay. And when did these insomniac phases start, Minseok sshi? While you were posted at the Demilitarized Zone or after?" You take off your spectacles and observe him with kind eyes. "While... I was still there. My post was transferred to the DMZ for my excellent shooting skills during the military. I was so ecstatic, so proud of myself when it had happened. It was one of the most prestigious posts at the army," he smiles, and you couldn't stop yourself from noting how handsome he was when he wasn't overcome with fear, "I bragged about it to all my friends and family. They were so proud. They were so proud until..." his smile fades, his eyes becoming wet as the painful memories came back like a flood, that awful night at the DMZ. "Until what Minseok sshi?" you probe tenderly, catching full well that this was a part of the trauma that his mind was blocking, a very crucial part of his underlying illness. "Is that important? Why don't you just prescribe me some sleeping pills, Doctor?" his voice becomes nonchalant as he fakes a smile, but you easily catch the slight frown in between his eyebrows.

You note "incident at DMZ" down on your diary, and smiled up at him.

"Well, your previous doctors have informed me that you were aware of some of your hallucinations. But it seems to me that get confused sometimes. Mr. Kim, no one is going to hurt you. And I am positively prescribing you some pills to have you enjoy a good sleep, because restless brain activity is our worst enemy. Also, we don't want those gorgeous eyes to get dark circles underneath, do we?" you smile, trying to lighten the mood and appeal to him as his friend. "Let's continue this discussion in our next meeting," Minseok smiles too, albeit half-heartedly and agrees, his eye still troubled and restless. Jihyo comes in after Minseok leaves, smiling at you as she places your coffee on your side table. "Do you need a break or should I call in the next patient? They are already here." "My kind Jihyo, you are a life-saver," you laugh. Sipping at your bitter Americano- just as you like it- you say, "Bring them in. I feel like I am finally getting started."

Jongin Kim was a 19-year-old college student. He just sat there, one leg on top of the other, his hands limp, his eyes numb and quite lifeless.

"So how are you feeling today?" you ask, smiling comfortably at the kid. He reminded you of Sana because of his age and you could tell he would grow up to be a heart breaker. If his clinically diagnosed depression didn't consume him whole. "Nothing different, Doctor. I always feel the same, what's the use of talking about it?" he mumbles, out of courtesy, you could tell if he were given a choice he'd never even speak. The fact that he was here, getting help for himself was because of his worried mom sitting outside in the waiting room. Jongin was a good kid. "Jongin? Is it okay for me to call you Jongin?" you say, removing your glasses. He shrugs, uncaring. "Jongin. You like to paint right? Let's speak in colors, then. What do you feel when you hear the word yellow?" "Uhh. I don't know. Bright? Sunny... happy." "And when you hear the word blue?" "Blue? Um. Blue has different shades, the lightest blue makes me feel light, like I'm floating, and the darkest one makes me feel like I'm drowning." "So out of the 3 colors, how are you feeling today?" He pauses, looking outside the big glass doors that leads to your little backyard. He sighs, the dullness in his eyes growing a shade duller.

"Dark blue," he whispers.

The next few hours go by in a blur of more patients. And soon Jihyo pops in to say she is going for a lunch break. "You have one more patient. But they called in to say they'll be about half an hour late. So imma go real quick to grab something to eat and come back. Would you like me to bring you something?" "No, it's okay. I'll get dinner later. You go, I'll take care." "Are you really sure you don't want anything? Cause I'm getting cream pasta," she insists, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated way to emphasize the loveliness of pasta. "No babe for real, I'll eat later," you chuckle, busily re-checking the previous patient's file. "Ughh, no wonder your aunt calls me thrice a day to check up on the three meals of your day. Okay, bye, because I'm really hungry right now. You are gonna have to answer her on my behalf,” Jihyo grimaces. “Love you~" she winks as she exits, leaving you shaking your head.

You take the last sip of your coffee, craning your tired neck as the door creeks open again just after a few minutes. Thinkinh Jihyo had come back to force feed you lunch, you turn and say,

"Jihyo, really girl go and have your foo-" but you stop mid-sentence as your eyes fall on the handsome man darkening your doorstep. A man who looked younger than you, enters swiftly. You go speechless as your eyes fall on his features, the first thing you notice is his unnaturally pink, luscious, triangular-shaped lips. He is wearing a yellow t-shirt underneath his coat, his hair styled so prettily, exposing his shiny forehead that you would've complimented him right away if he was someone you knew before. "Can I -come in?" the man says in a husky voice, his perfect eyebrows slightly raised, a slight twinkle behind his gently shaped eyes. "Yes. Of course, come in," you say as you stand up. You walk towards the front of your table and you extend your hand, "Mister?" "Ah, Baekhyun Byun. I think I am your last patient for today," he says politely, his demeanor so different from all the patients you had seen today. "Yes! My assistant told me you were going to be late. Glad you could make it," you smile, a little flustered as you were not given your last patient's record history beforehand. You always liked to be prepared with their history. "Yeah. I was. But somehow I got here just on time." He was sitting on the couch now, smiling softly, so calm and collected, unlike yourself.

How unprofessional of you.

You cleared your throat and admonished yourself mentally. Stop ogling at him, you repeat to yourself as you fix your hair into a ponytail and head for the door.

"Please. I'm so, so sorry. I don't have your file with me. I will go out and see if I can get your records from my table. If you could just excuse me for one min-" "No. No please sit. There is no need for it when I am right here. I can tell you everything." the man smiles. You wondered how the words 'a brilliant smile' would be an understatement to describe it. Why were his teeth so pretty?

"But-" you say again, feeling a little flip in your stomach but also unease for not being at your best. "Please, sit," he motions with his hand, and as if you were hypnotized, you sit down. You even forget to put on your spectacles, left on your desk when you had stood up. "Okay." you nod, and then break into your own bright, easy smile, "Okay. So let us start. Tell me about yourself, Mr. Byun." "Baekhyun, if you must," he clasps his hands in front of him, the smile fading a little but still there, "I'm Byun Baekhyun, 28," he was two years older than you, "I work at a tech company. Me and my brother both used to run it together. I was CEO a few years ago but I stepped down from the position," he looks up to see you scribbling these down, but you quickly lookup because he had paused. "Ah, I like to take notes, I hope it’s okay? If you want we can just speak-“ you start saying when he just shakes his head and lifts his eyebrows and hands in a gesture meant to mean that it was no problem. It was adorable. You smile again –huh, were you smiling too much?- and ask “If you don't mind me asking, Baekhyun," he smiles at you now, appreciating that you had listened to his preference, "why did you step down from the position?" "It was hard. It was hard after all the things that had happened, " he looks down as he speaks, his confident demeanor crumbling a bit. "After what had happened, Mr. Byun?" you ask, in your most tender voice. His head snaps up suddenly after the words 'Mr. Byun' leave your mouth. His soft feature turns into hard stone, and you bit your tongue at the silly slip of manner. He stands up suddenly, hands disappearing deep inside the pockets of his black slacks as he walks towards one of the paintings in your office. "These are some really nice paintings you have," he asks, clearly avoiding your question. You close your diary, catching ahead how today you weren't going to have any development with this patient.

But that was okay. Everyone had their own pace.

What you learned is you had to tread carefully with this one. He was sensitive in the oddest aspects. "It's not mine actually," you chuckle a little sheepishly, "The previous owners of this place insisted that I keep them. It's not been long since I moved in. I don't know if I'll keep them here, though." you stand up as you kept talking, moving towards the man who stood still in front of the painting of a beautiful lady. "Well, I think you should keep them. Especially this one." Baekhyun whispers as his fingers, so thin and pretty for a man, trails the border, his eyes unmoving from the lady's face. "She must have been gorgeous in real life, this woman in the portrait." you exhale as you stand beside him, putting on your spectacles to see better. "She was more than gorgeous. She was exquisite," Baekhyun whispers. You look at him curiously. He spoke as if he had known her personally. "Wow, you speak as if you knew this woman really well," you turn to face him, mystified. This time, Baekhyun's trance-like stature breaks, and he moves his whole body to face you. You had your share of meeting handsome men, even today you had met two who were astoundingly gorgeous. Yet there was something about this man in the black coat with styled hair, standing in front of you, staring into your eyes so deep, his mouth now looking so plump and kissable, that made your heart beat faster than usual.

Get a grip, you tell yourself as you discover a tiny mole on the right corner of his upper lip.

The way his skin shone in the soft light of your office, and how fair and clear and smooth it looked, enamored you. The grip on yourself loosened like air.

He steps a little bit closer to you, and you feel almost hypnotized. You are completely unable to move away when he says, "Doctor, I can quite easily tell when I see a woman that if they are just simply gorgeous," he says as he reaches out and grabs your spectacles gently, pulling them off, the light brush of his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps along your hairline, "or if they are exquisite enough to take your breath away," he continues, putting the spectacle down and leaning in close to your ear.

"Right now, after I have seen one so dazzling, I really can't breathe," he finishes, he lips slightly grazing your cheekbone, inciting rouges along your cheek and neck.

He stares into your baffled eyes as he smirks and leaves the room.

What the hell just happened?

Minutes after Mr. Byun departs, Jihyo mkes her appearance.

"I think I'm kinda done for today," you say, huffing and shuffling your notes in a neat pile, and rubbing the place where his lips had touched, still tingling. You were embarrassed to find some of other parts of you tingling too. "Oh? Okay. I'll pack everything up and see you next week? Here," she says as she puts down two bags of Chinese food. "Jihyo…" "Now shut up and eat before I go," Jihyo admonishes, laughing loudly when you attack the bags.

Days become months, and soon you are getting the hang of living in a new city and learning your way around it. You had also applied to work as a professor at one of the universities, everything was going pretty well.

Except at the end of the day, when you come back to your big, big a house- you can't shake the feeling of being watched.

It wasn't like this at the beginning. But after you had started accepting clients, you always felt this cold shiver of being watched by somebody.

When you would walk down to the kitchen after passing your office, you would get a slight cold shiver from the room. You had started to close the doors to the room before sleep after that.

When you would walk out of a hot shower, you would feel someone watching you from the small window inside your bathroom that led to the yard of the house. You would close them too after the feeling didn’t let up.

There was this one time you even felt someone standing at the end of your bed.

It was crazy, and you were convinced it was all in your head since you never lived alone ina new place before.

You had told Jihyo about it, and that was what she had said too.

“If you feel too awful I can come and stay with you,” she had offered after the incident in the bedroom, but you declined.

You had to be the big girl.

It was horrible and pretty mind-fucking. But for the past couple of weeks, this feeling had stopped.

And what was more mind-fucked up was that you missed it.

That was so messed up. And you wondered why that was happening. Maybe it was something else you had missed, some other feeling similar to missing someone that you reconnected to this, reconnected back to something as disturbing as being watched.

Maybe I have reached my peak of loneliness, you wondered wistfully.

Anyway, there were far more important things to worry about than this. Like one of your clients being absent for weeks.

Where did he go?

Why wouldn't he reply to your mails that were sent inquiring about his absence?

The days he had come, he was so punctual, though every day, it was at the end of all your day's patients, and also strangely right after when Jihyo would leave for her lunch break. He never missed one single session, before he started ghosting you. And his absence had now made you realize you had developed rather illegal feelings for him. It was quite unprofessional of you. If anyone had to catch an air of this, your hard-earned degree would surely get revoked.

But you couldn't help it. You were always so immune to growing any sort of feelings for any of your patients. But, he...he was different. During the few sessions of the therapy Byun Baekhyun had with you, he would just stare, stare at you while you asked questions about his problems, stare at you when all he was supposed to do was lie down and look at the ceiling and relax and bare his deep, dark messed up feelings. After some of his slight flirtatious remarks towards you, gentle touches over your furniture and paintings as he would move around the room, all of that would eventually lead him to talk to you about his problems (it was the only way you could make him talk. And he could never stay still, never stay lying down for few minutes, and he always moving about and touching the paintings that he liked so much). You would sometimes stand up and walk with him too, abandoning your notes because you knew your mind was somehow embedding these memories to their cells, enjoying his company and the light conversation the sessions would turn into, and that's when he’d bravely graze his hand against yours, catch a stray strand of hair which he'd tuck behind your ear when you'd put your guard down and laugh at his funny monologues.

Times like this would create dangerous flutters inside our stomach, that would spread throughout your whole body and leave you stunned. What was worse is that he knew his effect on you.

But you could never get a reaction out of him.

Did he feel something for you too? Or was he just sweet and lovely like this to everyone else?

You try to shake these unruly thoughts out of your head as you focus on finding his contact number. The bossy side of your brain reminded you again and again.

He was your patient, it said. It's illegal to have feelings for your patient, it said.

But he was also one of those who shouldn't have gone without their sessions even for a week.

They were important for his recovery.

And Baekhyun had missed three.

Baekhyun was suffering from an anxiety disorder. It was hard to believe because he was such a bright person, always smiling and throwing witty remarks. But you could sense, sense a sort of fidget, a panic in his eyes when you would venture deeper into his life each time. Being the CEO of the company left by his father, there was no way he could afford to have any weaknesses, especially something that interfered with his work and relationships. He had admitted to leaning towards heavy use of alcohol, that had cost him many things, including his position to his younger brother. That's why he had come to you. Baekhyun was trying to get back on track, and you were gladly here to help him. Only you knew there was still a lot to unfold.

As you enter your office for a new day and new patients, your mind couldn't stop going back to him.

Worrying for him.

You vividly remember your last session with Byun Baekhyun.

He was wearing that same black coat he had worn every day since he started your sessions, and that day oddly, he had taken it off.

You had tried your best to avoid looking at his arms, his exposed collarbone, and his wide hips that were on full display because he had tucked his t-shirt in.

"So things with you and your brother aren't well, still?" you ask as you slide your eyes across his rehab documents, most of his visitors being solely one person, Byun Junmyeon.

"Yeah. He sold my house without telling me about it. And when he tried to tell me he was also selling her paintings I got furious and told him to never come back," Baekhyun says hoarsely, his jaw ticking and you could clearly see the topic of his brother was something that carried bitter feelings.

"Her paintings...?"

Baekhyun looks at you with a slight surprise and quickly caught onto the fact that this was something he wasn't supposed to tell.

"Baekhyun, who was she? " you ask gently and softly because once your clients start feeling on guard and close up on you there was no way you would be able to help them.

Baekhyun chuckles and rubs his neck, which was red by now from all the rubbing he did since he came in today, he seemed a lot fidgety somehow.

"Baekhyun," you sigh, getting nowhere with his silence,"You really need to tell me what you see when you go through one of your episodes. You said the last time it was so severe you almost took a drink. I can help you if you tell me. You know you can tell me," you coax, trying to read this man's thoughts. But today it was really hard.

His angry face had morphed into a solemn one, he stands up and walks to his favorite painting, the painting of the mysterious lady, yet again, and you can feel it.

He had closed his open book.

You sigh as you take off your spectacles and walk towards him. Standing next to him always made you feel light somehow, you look at his hand hanging by his side and you want to touch it. You want to hug him and tell him he can forget about his pains when he is with you. He can stop looking at the lady in the painting so longingly and look at you like that. But you knew it would never be right. Never.

"I... had a wife," he whispers quietly, his low register tone feeling like a breeze of warmth hitting your heart, only quickly turning stone cold from his words.

A wife?

He puts his hands over the painting's sill and traces the border slowly, towards the lady's abstract face that was drawn in with vivid shades of blue and red.

"She was so beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. But then she left me. A car accident took her life, a simple fucking car accident." his long thin fingers trace the lady's cheeks longingly.

"I used to be so busy working, I could never give her the time she had always wanted. So she would paint. I would come back every night and find her hands covered with bright colors of paint, and then I would wake her up and make love to her because like that, she was incredible to me. Her death broke me, completely. My position at the company became nothing to me, I lost my mind over the loss of the love of my life. Drowning myself in drinks, all the time thinking about how I should have been with her. How I should've died with her."

He faces you now, catching the redness in your eyes that were too late to blink away. He wasn't crying, but his face crumbles into a worrisome expression. But in the simple way he told his story, his real story, you could feel his loss as if you had been right there with him, suffering, and somehow the hurt of losing someone so loved felt profound to you. You understood the need to leave with the ones you had lost.

Because you too, had gone through something very similar.

"Don't cry," he coos, moving his hands away from the painting, moving his longing eyes away from her to you.

He was standing very close to you now, so close that you could count his eyelashes as his gaze roamed around your face until they fell on your quivering mouth.

"Mr. Byun," you start when he leans down towards them, his breathe covering your mouth in shallow inhales. He closes his eyes as if to control himself, and kisses your forehead instead. Like it was the most normal thing to do. The most natural thing.

Like you had been doing this for years.

"Neoreul michige wonhago wonhaedo neon...you ghost." he sighs against your ear, again, too close for comfort.

He was your patient. You did not allow any of your patients this close to you. Yet here he was. And you couldn't for the life of you, move away.

You open your eyes and look at him, the words he had spoken in his native tongue all unknown and foreign to you, yet why did it...arouse you?

"What does it mean?" you whisper, frowning a little, trying to hide how his proximity affected you more than you wished it to. But you were his doctor, his therapist. You had to focus. You needed to know everything about your patients to help them heal. And even though the intensity of feelings in his eyes made you scared to know what his words meant, you had to probe.

What did those words mean?

"Oh, doctor." he lifts his hands as he traces your cheeks with his thumb, "Do you really want to know?"

You look at him, mystified and terrified all at once.

"Even if I want you.... want you so much that it drives me crazy....

all you do is ghost" ...

"Hey, your first patient just called in to let me know they'll be here soon, okay? What are you looking for?" Jihyo pops in her head, slightly concerned at the disheveled way you were rifling through your files.

"Thank god you are here! Have you seen my patient Byun Baekhyun's file somewhere? They have been avoiding sessions for 3 weeks now and I need to contact them ASAP," you plead with big eyes.

"Byun Baekhyun? Huh. Never really heard of their name. Are you sure you have a patient...? Uhh nevermind. You are getting so many appointments nowadays that it's hard to keep up," Jihyo frowns as she puts your coffee down.

"Jihyo it's really important," you ask seriously.

"Ahhh don't worry girl, I'll contact them for you so you should just focus on today's patients. Okay?"

Most of your patients had immense development with you over the past weeks. And as relieved as you were, you were also worried about the two who were still stuck at square 1.

"Minseok sshi, how are you sleeping these days?" you ask with a genuine smile.

Minseok's cat-like eyes were red and a little bit dazed. He shakes his head, answering your question without actually answering it.

"Bad? Is it because of the nightmares?"

He nods.

"Minseok sshi. What do you see in your nightmares? What do you see that scares you so much?"

His sad eyes look up into yours, and he sniffs a little.

He takes a deep breath, "I always have the same dream. It's always me lying on my bunker at the base camp, sleeping and a gunshot rings through the air. It shocks me awake. I climb down the bed and out of the room, in search of the source of the sound. I really wish I wouldn't do it because that is exactly where everything goes wrong. There I find them, they come at me with menacing eyes, hands outstretched over their head, and before I can understand what’s happening, they stab me. They keep stabbing me doctor... in the chest, in the abdomen, in- in the legs. Stabs and stabs of endless pain until there is nothing more. And then I finally jolt awake," he barely finishes, his forehead shining with swear.

Minseok was crying now. You slowly walk towards him and hand him some tissues and sit beside him. Patting his back.

"The person who stabs you, can you remember their face?”

“It's always a different person each time, but when I wake up I can’t remember them. I can't live with my parents anymore. Because I feel they are North Korean spies who are out to kill me. But that’s not true, right doc?” he looks at me with frantic eyes, “Doc, I don't know what to do anymore. Please help me. Please."

Jongin has dark circles around his eyes now. His hair is more disheveled than ever.

"Jonginah, why aren't you attending your painting classes anymore? Your mom is worried for you."

He shrugs, nonchalant, distant.

"Jonginah, you have to tell me how you feel. If you keep it pressed inside you, it's going to become darker. Please tell me." you plead, your eyebrows pulled together in a worrisome frown.

His face softens at your tone. He looks at you with hopeless eyes.

"It's just that..." he sighs, his shoulders sagging more and more, "I don't see any point to anything anymore. I feel like my whole existence is a burden. How I'm just simply taking up space."

"Jongin. That is not true. You are not some object taking up space. You are someone’s son, someone’s student, and a wonderful human being. I can see how so many people care about you so much and admire you. I wish you could try to see yourself from other people's eyes. Because you are worth so much more than you think."

A knock sounds on the door.

"I'm so sorry, but Mr. Kim's mom left this right now and told me to give them to you to discuss in session," Jihyo says as she walks in, her hands full of portfolios of beautiful drawing. Even though you know Jihyo knows she can’t interrupt when you’re meeting up with the patients, you don’t say anything. You can't help but notice your patient sitting up, the slight brightening of his eyes as your assistant walks in, his gaze not leaving her face even once.

"Here you go. Please don't mind but I happened to take a peek and they are gorgeous. Mr. Kim, you are so talented," Jihyo gushes as she looks at your patient with earnest eyes. Jongin sits up straighter, a smile adorning his plump mouth.

"You really think so? Thank you. Thank you so much Ms. Jihyo," he says gruffly, but you can see his eyes leaving the dull vibes so fast.

"Ah, you know my name! It's no problem. I'll leave you two now," Jihyo chuckles as she moves towards the door.

"Ms. Jihyo wait!" Jongin says, standing up now. There was a nervous vibe radiating out of him.

"Doctor, if you don't mind. And Ms. Jihyo, if you don't mind as well. I would like to draw you." he said.

"Me?" Jihyo squeaks, incredulous. But your heart feels triumphant at Jongin's words.

"Yes. I really, really want to, draw you."

The day ends with Byun Baekhyun being a no show. You bid goodbye to your 21-year-old assistant, being disappointed when she says she couldn't find their contact number.

"It's not even registered. Are you sure you got the name right?"

You sigh as you take a warm shower and sit on your bed, rubbing your hair dry, your head full of nobody else but Baekhyun.

That weird feeling was back again. The feeling of being watched. You slowly turn your head towards your open window and breathe a sigh of relief when you find no one there. You dress up in your white silk nightdress and head downstairs to heat some of the food Jihyo had left over.

Before you move towards the kitchen, a loud knock on the door halts you in your steps.

It was nearly 10 pm. Frowning slightly and tightening your robe, you peak through the looking glass only to gasp in surprise.

It was him.

In haste of wanting to know where he was all these days, you yank the door open recklessly.

Immaculately styled yet again, Byun Baekhyun always looked handsome, but today he looked hot beyond words. The stylish one button black shirt, and the love engraved belt showing off his snatched waist, all the words that you wanted to speak fled you entirely.

"Hello, Doctor. I bought you champagne," he looks up from under his abundance of baby eyelashes and smirks a delicious smile. And your unruly heart did that dull heavy thump for him again.

You were now seated in the living room of your too big a house, him sitting awfully close beside you. It wasn't a bit wise of you, inviting in the irresistible man in your house so late at night. But you were tired. You were lonely. And you couldn't let him leave you with so many questions starting up a storm inside you, you never knew when he would come back again now that he stopped his ghosting.

You were determined to hold on to him as long as you were allowed.

So here you two were, cozying by the warm fire and sipping on the delicious drink he had bought so generously, declining one for himself though.

Apparently, he had gone overseas, his brother being the boss now, he hadn't been able to say no. You felt stupid for worrying so much, and also a bit apprehensive because he could've at least let your assistant know, who simply doesn't want to admit he is an actual client here!

"I'm sorry." he tell you, reading your mind easily through your eyes, "I should've let you know. It all just happened so fast. Coming back to you was very, hard," he clears his throat, taking your glass and filling it up for the second time.

You ask him how his health was, and he smiles brightly only to say it wasn't that well either.

"Are your traumas coming back?" you ask, clearly concerned. Not realizing you had leaned in too close to him in your worry.

He looks into your eyes and smiles yet again, the smile not really reaching his eyes.

"You look really beautiful without your spectacles," he whispers instead, causing you to jerk back, the compliment hitting you hard right in the heartstrings.

He stands up again now and wanders towards your turntable, and you can't help but notice how he always tiptoes over the important questions. How ambiguously he expresses his emotions.

It frustrates you a bit about how you don't know even one-fourth of his feelings. Except for his flirty smile and chivalrous moves that just seem to be a part of his personality. And so, because he never lets you on anything personal about him, you can tell he is just here to chase away his loneliness, too. And that you are just his doctor.

Not someone important enough to convey his feelings into.

You dump your glass of champagne at one go, letting the sweet burn numb the clench of your chest and pour another round for yourself.

You don't hear as he admonishes you, asking you to slow down.

"It's okay. I don't have work tomorrow anyways, so," you down another glass as you glance sideways at him, to catching him shaking his head.

Slow music fills the room as he sets one of your vinyl records over the turntable. The sweet voice of Eric Benét fills the room.

"I love this song so much," you say, a little tipsy, and the tunes of 'Still With You' match with the beats of your heart. You shake your head from side to side to the beats, smiling when Baekhyun grabs your hand and pulls you up, flush against his body.

"Dance with me," he whispers hoarsely, putting both your hands around his neck and putting his own a little lower from where your waist is, over the curves of your hips.

His hand feels light over the fabric of your flimsy nightdress, somehow revealed when the robe’s knot had come loose. Your nipples strain against your slip in reaction to his proximity. You should feel embarrassed, but the heady feeling of his hand rubbing circles over the small of your exposed back blur that twinge out completely. You couldn't feel his temperature for some reason, but you felt yourself getting a different kind of warm as you dare to look up and into his eyes. Maybe it was the champagne, or him, but everything felt so shiny, glowing. The most beautiful being him.

He presses his forehead against yours, and you both breathe out slowly as you move to the beautiful keys of the piano. Swaying in the same place, the warmth from the fireplace warming your flushed bodies more and more.

Not once he lets go of his eye contact, his nose rubbing against yours every now and then. His ragged exhale lets your slightly drunk mind know that he was feeling as affected by this little dance as you were. The feelings that echoed in his eyes, the adoration, and tightening of his hands over your hips like he was afraid you'd slip away from his hands, made your eyes tear up. And you felt -you physically felt- your heart becoming this man's, this man you knew so little about.

"Baekhyun sshi.." you whisper when the song ends.

"Baekhyun, please. Always Baekhyun for you, my love," he says, his eyes closing as he leans in for your lips.

You do nothing to stop him.

You didn't know where your nightdress had slipped away, and or when your panties were replaced with his wet mouth, making your cavern turn wetter.

You gasped shakily, your hands grasping the headboard railing of your bed tightly as he slips in his fingers inside you, your head a little dizzy from the reckless champagne intake, but not enough to not feel what he was making you feel.

"My love, my love, my love..." he moans somewhere from between your legs, his naked shoulders flexing, his head bobbing up and down as his mouth eats you out.

You don't know when you end up being taken from behind, all you could feel was his delicious length rub your walls as no one else had ever done.

"Baekhyun..... Baekhyun...... Baekhyun," you chant in gasps, in between shallow inhales of dear breaths.

The turntable downstairs plays the passionate verses of Whitney Houston's of "I Have Nothing" as you get fucked equally passionately by this man you had fallen in love with.

He pulls you up by your neck, propping you over his organ and pressing you against his sweaty chest as he licks up the sweat of your neck hungrily. You were not praying, yet as you both knelt, it felt like it, his fingers wound through one of your hands and holding it over your heart, the other hand reaching down to rub sweet, torturous circles over your swollen wet nub.

"….Even if I want you so much it drives me crazy." his lips caress the words in your ear, making your spinning body and mind momentarily focus for a bit,

"Even if I want and call for you all night long.... you ghost," he says, breathing heavily, pounding into you one more time that undoes your whole body and sends you into the shivering mess of a mind-numbing orgasm.

The next morning or evening-you couldn't tell- the throbbing veins around your temples shake you awake. You moan, feeling quite disoriented as you turn from your side, your naked arm falling over the cold side of your bed instead of the body of a warm, alive man- the man who had made love to you so incredibly last night. "Baekhyun?" you whisper, your voice hoarse and laced with a tiny tremor as your heart starting to realize that he hadn't stayed over. Maybe he just left before I woke up, you think to yourself as you sit up slowly, your head giving a spin and making you realize that you had too many drinks the previous night. Or maybe he was never... here. Another sinister thought slams into you like a whisper, realization hitting you as your eyes scan for any traces of him being in your room, your sheets devoid of any of the milky white trace of the love-making you remembered too well last night. You were too sure he hadn't used a condom. No, that's impossible. He was here! you retort back to the sinister thought as you jump out from the covers, naked and quite sore. You rush to your bathroom, and when you stand in front of the mirror, there they were. Love bites. The marks Baekhyun had made over your thighs. Red and biting, small but so beautiful. Your fingers slowly trace each one, feeling relieved by the second that you had not dreamt of such an incredible night. That it had happened. And tracing those suckling marks also made you remember how good you felt when he was making them on you. "Oh Baekhyun," you whisper, tearing up a little, and wishing he had stayed back for at least one cuddle session. Why did he leave? Why didn't he at least leave a short message for you? Will he never come back? Will he ghost you again? Will you not see him for another three weeks? The thought became heavier and unbearable as your mind kept thinking about them, regurgitating the obvious. Soon you dressed and climbed downstairs to find his contact number again. You knew his full name. So you were bound to find his information somewhere on the internet. You didn't know if he had taken this as a one night stand. To you, it didn't feel like it, and when he had whispered those words in your ear again before he made you come, you were sure it wasn't just a one-sided love affair. Passing by the living room, you notice the champagne. But there was no glass. You frown and when you open your office room door, your frown becomes deeper. "Minseok sshi? What- what are you doing here?" you ask, stepping into the room, your heart beating fast because it wasn't normal to find one of your patients, one of the unstable ones, sitting behind your desk and going through your work files on an off-duty day. Sipping a glass of champagne in broad daylight. "Ohh, you're finally awake!" Minseok says, a little too chirpily, "I'm sorry for letting myself in your house like this. But I had to meet you. I saw you in my dreams last night." Minseok's took one more sip and put the glass down, his eyes full of terrible dark circles, his hair messed up. He looked like something.... something had broken in him. You step towards your patient with wary steps, eyeing the mess he had made by throwing down all your books and record files all over the floor in the search of something. "Minseok sshi, I'm sorry to ask you about this. But I need you to leave," you say calmly, one hand raised facing towards him. "I can't leave now, doctor. Not when I have finally seen the face of the North Korean spy who stabs me to death every day in my sleep," Minseok laughs in a high pitch, maniacal voice, raising goosebumps all along your spine. "Minseok sshi, I don't understand. Please you're not in the right state of mind now." "Right state of mind?? Huh! My dreams got worse after you gave me those pills. And look at this," he raises the painting of a rectangle, painted in the colors that resembled the North Korean flag. Red. White. Blue. Let's have these colors as the major pointer for how you are feeling each day, okay, Jongin? you had said. You mentally curse at yourself, fear trickling into your veins. He smashes the champagne glass on the floor and sits up, his whole face red now, his beautiful cat eyes big and bloodshot, "I should have known they had sent you for me. You are the North Korean Spy assigned to kill me. I should've known it was you, whore," he spits on the painting, his hands becoming fists as he crumped the paper in a ruined ball. "Minseok sshi, you are having an episode right now. Please remain calm, please I am not your enemy. I am your doctor. I am your doctor," your hands were shaking now, you should've grabbed your phone on the way. But you had to remain calm, because crumbling down would only result in both of you getting hurt. As if all the words spoken out of you hit an invisible barrier and never reached him, Kim Minseok roars like a dangerous animal, pushing everything and anything on your table, rushing towards you. And you couldn't do much but sprint for the telephone at your side. Before you could speed dial Jihyo's number, his body knocks into yours, rendering you speechless and out of breath, his heavy body climbing onto yours, his knees sitting on top of yours in the classic "tackle your enemy to the ground" taught at the military training, what they didn't teach was how to choke your opponent to death. "No more you. No more dreams," he wheezes hoarsely, wrapping his steels arms around your throat. Being a small woman, you could only do so much but claw at his hands as he squeezed the life out of you, your windpipe almost about to crush from the pressure. You could feel your eyes starting to burn, your mouth going dry, your nose blocking up as the life went out of you little by little. Soon the strength from your hands became feeble too, your vision becoming blur with tears, your oxygen-deprived brain slowly starting to die. Minseok pulls you by your neck and slams your head against the wooden floor. The last thing you hear before you lose your consciousness was running footsteps. The silhouette looked familiar. That same coat and yellow shirt you'd seen so many times. It was Byun Baekhyun, a bat in his hand, poised up and about to hit. It was Baekhyun, and he was here to save you. Save me, Baekhyun.....

You wake up with a jolt, scrambling upright with your hands around your neck, gasping for air as if you were just drowning. No hands were pressing against them; although they were very sore. "Sshhh it's okay. I'm here. I'm here," you hear a familiar voice whisper beside you and your head turns, body frightened and still alert, only to see that it was Baekhyun. Baekhyun in his comfortable turtle-neck and unstyled, boyish hair. Baekhyun with a worried look in his eyes. Baekhyun who was your patient but you didn't care anymore because you loved him. A sob leaves your chest as he arms wrap around you, pulling you into his strong and warm chest, pulling you into his delicious scent that soon calms down your frayed nerves. "It's gonna be okay. You are okay now my love. I'm here for you," he keeps repeating it like a mantra, kissing the crown of your soft hair as he rocked you like someone rocking a baby who had to awaken from a bad, bad dream. "What happened to him? Tell me the police have detained him before he hurts someone else..." you ask tensely, frightened that if Minseok was still out there, someone else too would be getting harmed as you did. "Yeah.. yeah. They-they got him. He is..uhh- they took him to criminally-insane mental hospital. Don't worry, he is not going to hurt anyone ever again." You look up from his chest now, "I would've been dead Baekhyun. If you hadn't come on time, he would've killed me. You saved my life," you say, your voice breaking at the end. Now it was Baekhyun's eyes which watered with tears, he pulls you in his arms once again as the tears fall painfully from his eyes, "I'm sorry, baby girl. I should've come sooner. I should've never left you alone. Why did I leave you alone?" he starts to cry hard now, baffling you into stopping yours. "Baekhyun... what are you saying.." There was so much pain in his cries. You kiss his temple as he now weeps into your chest, saying sorry again and again, even after you said it wasn't his fault. Baekhyun stays with you for the next week, not moving from your side even for a second. He takes care of everything too. He says he called Jihyo to cancel all your appointments and to not come by, even though you wanted to see Jihyo and feel her comforting presence. Baekhyun removes all the mirrors in the house too, strangely, he says that the bruises around your neck were only healing now, and looking at them would only incite the trauma so it was better off not seeing them. You agree wholeheartedly, like everything else he was asking you to do. He stops you from going into your office, as that would simply also be traumatic to you. That somehow felt stranger than removing the mirrors. Even when you told him many times that the place needed cleaning up and re-organizing, he said he had taken care of it.

He was taking care of everything.

You finally didn’t feel lonely anymore.

"Promise me you won't go in there. I've fixed everything, so just be with me," he would whisper ardently, hugging you and rubbing your back multiple times until you forget to give a damn.

Having Baekhyun made all your loneliness vanish into dust, he was such a warm soul to have around. His presence seemed more solid to you somehow, or you felt lighter, just like he used to feel. He'd cook while singing, would go to the bathroom while singing and while dancing with you he would also sing. But it was always the same song. You were convinced you had heard it somewhere often, but couldn't quite put a finger on it.

It was the night before the weekend ended, and it was raining heavily outside. Baekhyun was playing his jazz playlist again, his hair wet and messy around his forehead, his mouth iterating with the many stories he never seemed to run out of, and it was so romantic, so warm, so happy and giddy- you felt like you would explode. More than that, you felt like you would die if you didn't lick the pasta sauce off his lips right then.

"Isn't it tasty? My friend Kyungsoo had taught me this recipe," he said with a mouth full of meatballs and pasta, still pretty clueless about the slight sauce over his top lip that had missed his tongue when he had licked up his lips, and that was begging for your attention.

You smiled and nodded your head in agreement, putting your index finger forward and quickly swiping the sauce and putting it in your mouth, "Very delicious," you said after sucking on it a little too loud, catching how Baekhyun's eyes glossed over at your little act.

He dropped his fork and lifted that finger that you'd just licked, and keeping his eyes on yours, sucked your saliva off it.

Abandoning your plates of pasta, you both move like opposite magnets placed at close proximity, and devour each other's mouths, tongues rubbing together as you rip off the clothes from each other's body.

The days Baekhyun had spent, not once had he kissed you or sensually touched you. Yes, you both had cuddled, maybe even spooned, but nothing more than that.

Now you were sitting on top of Baekhyun's straining hard-on at the dining table, grinding your clothed pussy over it as your mouths clashed over who should be the more dominant kisser.

Baekhyun grunted and stood up suddenly, pinning you against the wall nearby, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist giving you the leverage you needed to keep grinding against his length, until he stopped you- removing one of his strong hands to bring out his cock and line it against your hole. You whimpered as he rubbed his tip, gathering all your juice from the clit to the vagina before slipping in smoothly.

You both gasp at the penetration, his gasps ragged as your snug hole feels so good around him, your gasps shaky as his width stretches you all too well, and before Baekhyun starts his mind-blowing thrusts, he whispered, "I will cum in you as much as I want tonight. And I'll make you cum so many times that you will forget your name, and remember only mine. Mine," he growls possessively, his pupils strangely black and so dark. Your walls squeeze themselves around him hard, anticipating the many little deaths he just promised with insane greed and lust.

And of course- Love.

In the morning, Baekhyun is still sleeping when you wake up. Your mind feels satisfied seeing him beside you, your bed not empty and cold like that first time, but warm and smelling of him. Your eyes trace his features, his hands outstretched over his head, his brown hair messy and covering his forehead, his lips pinker than you could remember them being. You were reminded of all the things those lips did to you last night and you blushed unconsciously. Your body shivered from remembering the times he made you come and you let out a shaky breath. Last night was gonna be hard to top off. Despite your wish to snuggle inside his chest and entangle your naked legs with his in this brilliant morning and sleep some more, you were starving. So you decide to go downstairs and for the first time, make breakfast for him and you both. As you come downstairs alone, it feels as if, as if a cloud lifts from over your head. You slow down your pace as you think how you have not talked with your sister for days, how Jihyo had not visited you at all, and now you never hear your phone that would ring so many times a day, ring even once. You entirely forget about breakfast, moving like a magnet towards the room you have avoided for over a week. You twist it open, and soon a raunchy smell hits your nose too hard. You don't dare to turn on the lights in the hopes of making any sound that would wake Baekhyun up. He would be furious if he found you here. You didn't want to make him upset. You groan as you make yourself move forward still, your hands outstretched in the darkness, the only destination being your phone that sat near your coffee table. Every breath you inhaled hurt your insides cause of the god-awful smell. Whatever had died in here? Thankfully your telephone was okay as your hands bought them to your lap. You pressed on to listen to the voicemails, the first one being from Jihyo. "Hey, this is so unlike of you to not receive your calls. I rang the bell so many times. But when you didn't open I assumed you had gone somewhere. Please call me as soon as you get this." "Doctor, I canceled all your appointments after hearing the news. I hope you are okay. I understand that you would want time off when one of your patients die like that. It's so unfortunate that Minseok sshi killed himself. But you have to know it wasn’t your fault." Minseok is dead?? your hands start shaking as the voicemails keep pouring in. "Hey, love. It's been days. Please at least let me know if you are alright. I am so worried about you. Maybe this will interest you enough and stop you from ghosting me like this, but I wanted to tell you something about Mr. Byun Baekhyun. I really really think you got his name wrong..." I could've never gotten his name wrong... ...because the man's records show he is dead." Impossible. "He is been dead for five years. He was an alcoholic, most probably after his wife had died very suddenly. He overdosed on sleeping pills and drowned himself in the bathtub of his own house." You stand up, the telephone falling on the floor as your legs shake. You are unable to breathe. "The most creepy part is, he was the previous owner of the house you're living in now. Jesus. I know right. Seriously crazy. Were you seeing his ghost all these days or something?" Jihyo's muffled voice chuckles, her tone light-hearted and joking. Joking... "What are you doing here?" a voice speaks from behind you. You whip around, scared shitless as Baekhyun's familiar form slips inside the door smoothly, almost gliding. But instead of walking towards you, he stands there, motionless.

"I-I was just checking my messages-" you try to speak. But right then, Sana's loud voice cuts through the room.

"Unnie! Why aren't you picking up your phone? Are you all alright? Please I need you to come home right now. Aunt Yuri is in the hospital. They are saying it’s a heart attack. Unnie… unnie. I’m so scared. Please call me." her panicked tone becomes a small voice as she cries helplessly, seeping in some ounce of bravery in you.

"Baekhyun, I have to go, I have to go to my sister right now," you whisper urgently as you try to move out of the godforsaken room, your wobbly legs gaining some strength as you avoid Baekhyun’s fathomless eyes, the deadness in them causing you to question everything that is happening around you.

Questioning reality.

Questioning his existence.

“You can’t go,” he whispers, his voice not of the sinister, cold kind as you were feeling.

You stop in your tracks as you hear the words. You stop in your tracks as he moves towards you, one step at a time. He doesn’t feel solid anymore. He feels like a part of a nightmare now.

“But… my sister needs me,” you plead brokenly, the room and his presence suddenly suffocating you.

He is standing in front of your shaking form as your eyes let go of the first teardrop since you had come in here. The unbearable stench had grown stronger, wafting towards you like you were standing too close to the source. He shakes his head, his eyes now red and watery around the edges, his face pale and devoid of any color. “You can’t leave,” he says this time, a different kind of heaviness in his words. “You can’t leave me. You can’t,” he repeats, his hands clasped and his shoulders slumped in some sort of defeat. “Why not?” you step away from him as he walks closer to you, his hands reaching out towards your face. “No!” you slap his hand away, hurt registering in his eyes immediately, “What the fuck does that mean?! You have to give me answers Baekhyun! Right now! That call from Sana was four days ago! I could’ve been there for her right away if you had let me come in here! And Jihyo! She- she says that Minseok is dead! She is saying that you are dead! Fuck, what- what does that even mean? And now you’re saying that you can’t let me go? For fuck’s sake, tell me why? Why can’t I leave? WHY?” you scream, tears pouring down your face as you look at Baekhyun’s shaking shoulder, unknowingly stepping further back from him in frenzy and to get rid of the smell that you were convinced was coming from him.

“Answer me Baekhyun!!!” you cry. Taking one more step back, your feet suddenly hits an object on the ground and you stumble, falling backwards, catching yourself from falling too hard as you land on your hands.

The small light from the curtains shines through, and your eyes adjust over the object that had made you trip.

At that moment, all air abandons your lungs, a thin shrill starts ringing in your ears as you see your own eyes staring back at you, glossy and unseeing, your face blue and bloated, a streak of dried blood running from your mouth towards your neck carrying the dark, angry handprints that had crushed your windpipe.

The smell wasn't coming from Baekhyun. It was from your body, your dead, rotting body lying limp and unmoving on the cold ground.

“No no no no no no no-" you scramble away from it, your shaking hands pressing against your mouth as you stifle your gasping cries in them.

Baekhyun presence surrounds you suddenly, his arms wrapping around you and pressing your head against his chest. “This is why I didn’t want you to come in here. I’ve been such a bad husband, I failed to protect you the second time too,” Baekhyun says, his eyes dead and numb, his face expressionless and morose, his thin fingers quietly combing in your hair in robotic motions as you hiccup and sob, unable to look away from your dead body. “When you first moved in, I could feel your soul, Yoojung, I knew that you had come back to me. And I had to come to you, to let you know that I was here, that I was stuck here waiting for you,” he iterates, his voice husky and soft as if he was speaking to a frightened child.

“Yoojung?”

“But you didn’t remember me. You didn’t even remember our song. The song you had written for me. The song that you had written the night you had jumped off the bridge, the night you had killed yourself,” Baekhyun keeps on talking, letting sobs break from his dead chest now.

"I had memorised it you see, I had memorised it and repeated it until the moment the water filled up my lungs in the bathtub," he says, smelling your hair deeply.

“Why did you leave me, Yoojung? Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me, hm?” his repeats in a sing-song voice, rocking your body in his arms as he cries. The hand in your hair grips back roughly as he pulls your face to look at him. “Look at me. These eyes, the soul inside of you.. yes, it is you. Because nobody has ever looked at me the way you do. When that man came to kill you, I could’ve saved you. I wanted to save you. But I didn’t...”

You gasp as the horror deepens, tears streaming down your face endlessly.

“Now that I think of it, in the end, I think it was… it was for the best. Because now you won’t be able to leave me even if you wanted to. This house doesn’t let you leave. It doesn’t let you leave even if you try. I tried to leave, I tried to join you too, it was so hard when even after taking my life I couldn't be with you. But that's okay now. Everything will be okay now,” he says, his hollow eyes that were big and round, finally clearing the dead numbness into a mix of insanity and love.

He brushes the hair away from your tear stained face and kisses your cheeks. “Yes, my love. Do you remember me now? Do you remember us? Do you remember how much I loved you even though I was always so far away? I will never leave your side now, Yoojung. We will stay here, in this house that you had built for us, and decorated with your beautiful paintings.”

“You and I will be together forever.”

A helpless sob builds up from your chest as his words hit you, a soul-crushing cry leaving your lips that the dead man’s ghost mistakes as a cry of happiness. His hollow, crazy eyes smile through his own tears, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you cry and cry and cry.

You cry because you were not his wife. You cry because you were not Yoojung. You were not Yoojung.

THE END

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felgueirosa · 6 months

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if it’s not too triggering, why were you institutionalized for being picky? (If it’s too personal feel free to delete this ask, sorry)

Hi! It's no problem, it is triggering, but i think about it a lot, and it is something i sometimes shared on here, after it just happened, because i was in shock and had to let people know and to reach out like hey? has this happened to anyone else? but right after that it became too hard to put words to and too triggering to talk about so i talked about it less.

but its a story i want to tell now and am becoming more okay with telling, because i want people to know what happens to people, what happened to me, and what could very well happen to me again

and also, it just so happens i have been thinking about it a lot recently and thinking how to tell my story because i have been psyching myself up to tell my girlfriend.

so like. suuuuuuuuper long story below the cut. can be very triggering, its a very upsetting story. tw for like. institutionalization (obvs), suicide, medical abuse, eating disorders, psychiatric abuse, parental abuse (?)

I was kind of institutionalized. At first, it happened almost 9 years ago, I remember the anniversary every year. I was 16, my doctor recommended I be put in a childrens hospital eating disorder program. I have ARFID, no one really knew what it was at the time. I've had it since i was an infant and went from doctor to doctor and no one had ever seen anyone like me or knew what to do. One doctor said I wouldn't live past 21 if I continued to eat the way I do, but clearly that was not the case.

I am forever astounded by the amount of people I run into on here and online in general who identify as having ARFID or being that level of picky eater, though talking with some of them more in depth, it seems like they are often not on the level of pickiness i am on and seem to have experienced less shame and be more open about discussing it though everyone is different and impossible to tell.

I was excited for the program at first before it started. I thought they were going to help me and I would finally be a normal person. I was so tired of being harassed by random strangers, laughed at by waiters, and ridiculed by my family. Every person I made friends with I had to at some point make a terrifying confession to and going on dates (for the small regrettable amount I did it in high school) was near impossible when I had to show the part of myself that I was most ashamed about and hated the most on the first date.

I thought at the program I would find specialists who would sympathize with me and help me and would fix me. And when I got there, before anything even happened, I had to sign all these papers, and my parents did too, and I didn't know what they were, I didn't question it. What I signed didn't even really matter anyways, I was 16. And the first day I brought my phone with me and a book, and my bag with some other stuff. But after I signed everything, they took everything I had away, and we went to this room with all these doctors, 'my treatment team', I had never met them before, they barely looked at me or talked to me, but they talked about me and my 'treatment plan' and they were never caring to me, never talked to me like a person.

The plan, as it was for everyone, was that they give you three meals a day, of whatever food they bring you, you have to eat all of it by the time an alarm they set goes off, you have to drink every drop of water they give you, have to use every packet of sauce they give you. If you don't do this, you get moved down a 'level' and you get privileges taken away. Things like watching tv, or being around other patients, but most of all, I found out that being moved down a level just meant you usually get locked in a room by yourself for a few hours because that happened to me. a lot.

i was very upset when i found this out. this was not helping me. because as i found out, it turns out no one really knows a fucking thing about helping people with mental illnesses or eating disorders or developmental disabilities even though the medical establishment likes to talk about how much it has progressed. they don't know a single fucking thing.

so i finally went out to the common room with the other patients. i was crying very hard and told the doctors that was it i wanted to leave i didn't want to be part of the program. but they told me it was too late i already signed the consent forms. so i don't know if medical consent/institutionalization is still like this almost 10 years later, if someone was lying to me or if this is true, but my mom also told me the same thing, and apparently if you consent to this kind of thing you cannot take it back. which by definition, makes it not consent.

i remember sobbing in the common area with the other patients (they were all girls, about same age as me), and there was another new patient, also sobbing. the other girls tried to comfort us and talk to us, but the orderlies (i don't really know what else to call them, all they really did was sit and watch us and make sure we didn't do anything that wasn't allowed. they were all college girls. they were extremely mean to us, they thought we were being dramatic) wouldn't let them, we weren't really allowed to talk to each other much and we weren't allowed to touch each other and we very specifically for some reason were not allowed to comfort each other.

i was crying especially hard because i knew that this program was expected to last for a couple months. but as i talked to the other girls there the small amount i was able to, i found out that most of them had been there for much longer than a couple months, many of them for over a year. i managed to catch my parents as they were leaving from dropping me off and talking with the doctors (i had only been there still only like 3 or 4 hours) and screamed at them to get me out of here. my mom seemed really shaken by the way i was acting and the doctor told her not to worry and i specifically remember him saying "they all act like this at the beginning".

it is something i will never forget because every time i tried to convince my mom to get me out of there she seem conflicted based on the fact that the doctor said that. and it hits me every time that all the doctors, the nurses, the people working there, can see children. children. acting like that about what they are doing to them and think they are doing the right thing. i will never forget it ever. and every person who came in after me did the same thing! because it was prison! it was punishment! for having a eating disorder! for being autistic! when i was able to talk to my mom, she kept saying "we are not trying to punish you" and the more times she said i realized she was trying to convince herself.

i ate some of the foods they gave me but i never got used to them like they said i would. i just got knocked down a level every time and got locked in a room. and the thing is, unlike most media and reports about mental wards or asylums. it was a nice hospital. it was brand new. the room i was locked in was not a padded room. one of the walls was just a window. and in some ways, that made it worse. because it looked out on a highway and i saw all the cars going to and from work, going to the store, going to eat. and they were so free and they could go where they wanted and eat what they wanted and when they wanted and they weren't locked in a room. and they passed this hospital and had no idea what was happening to me or to anyone else here and it made me so angry and so defeated. i felt so close to being away from a waking nightmare but i knew i would never get there. a year!!! i could be there for over a year.

a year without going where i wanted when i wanted. no access to my phone. i wasn't allowed to see my friends. i wasn't allowed to read my books. i wasn't allowed to eat what i wanted when i wanted. i did therapy a few times a day but it was more like an interrogation. when i was a high enough level to be in the common room, i sat in the corner and did puzzles obsessively so i could just dissociate and focus on the puzzles. eventually the therapist told me i wasn't allowed to do puzzles anymore because it was "distracting from my recovery" and i "wasn't thinking about my eating" (i don't know what the fuck i was supposed to be thinking about). it got to the point where i felt like i didn't have ownership of my own mind anymore. i wasn't allowed to dissociate. i wasn't thinking about what they wanted me to be thinking about.

they told me if i "was good" (aka if i reached a high enough level, not going to happen) i could write them a list of 100 songs. they would load all the songs on an ipod shuffle to loan to me. but only after they listened to all of them first to make sure they were appropriate. they told me if i "was good" maybe i could see my best friend for a few hours for one weekend. a few hours. for one weekend. i was understanding how truly controlling the program was. seeing a friend for a few hours once a month is a privilege. listening to a few songs they approve is a privilege.

but it didn't matter. i realized after the first day that obviously i had to kill myself. i was already in a pretty bad place before the program and was passively suicidal but i realized instantly that i could not live like this and if i was going to be stuck here indefinitely then my only way to escape was to end my life. i didn't have a plan at that point but i knew for certain i was going to do it. the loss of control, the violation, the loss of body and self was unbearable.

every morning they had us strip and then weighed us and did an ekg. why did they have us strip and do an ekg? it doesnt seem like it has much of a point. they watched us go to the bathroom. it all seemed like humiliation and violation for the sake of it.

even after the second day i had realized that i didnt want to be fixed or get better and i had to come to the very quick realization that there had never been anything wrong with me. when i went to therapy they asked me questions like "don't you want to be able to go to restaurants?" "don't you want to be able to eat with friends?" and i realized none of that had to do with my health. the reason i had problems with restaurants was because they didn't accommodate to me and the reason i had problems with friends was all social. all these reasons i had for wanting to be fixed and all these reasons they had for me to want to be fixed were other peoples' problems. the way people treated me was not my problem.

for your treatment plan, one of the first steps was to admit in group therapy that you had an eating disorder and what your problems were (i fucking know) and that would get you more privileges but i decided i wasn't going to do that because i didn't have a problem, my "problem" was everyone else's problem and the way they treated me. so i refused to every session and got locked in the room every time for this. they fucking hated me for it.

if you can't tell how long i was there for based on this. i was only there for a week. because after a week our insurance came back and declined to cover the program. i always hate myself that it was a week. it doesnt feel long enough. for the amount that it did for me. for how much it does to me almost 9 years later. it doesn't feel like enough.

i got home and screamed at my parents. i was so angry. my mom had allegedly been trying the entire time to get me out of the program, but my dad had been trying to keep me in. when i got home my dad had taken away my phone and my laptop and said he wasnt giving them back. i screamed at him and cried and he threatened to call the hospital and have them lock me up forever. i was terrified, i tried to get away from him, to hide. and he got out his phone and took video of me, at my worst moments, he claimed to show to the doctors. i ran away. for a few hours. i had nowhere to go. i ran about a mile. and then sat down outside the rec center and cried until it got dark. and then i went home.

i had nightmares that i was still there for months. it never ended. i was so paranoid about everything. i thought people were coming to lock me up. i couldn't draw any attention to myself or i thought i would be locked up. every time we drove anywhere near the hospital i thought my parents were taking me back there. i was so paranoid i couldn't sleep i couldn't sit i couldn't do anything i had to be looking out for everything and i trusted no one. i walked around, angry at everyone, that they were so carefree in everything and they had no idea what happened to me. i was angry it happened to me and they were worried about things that had no importance. i was angry when adults thought they knew more than me and i felt i had been through more in life at 16 than they had at their age. was it true? i'm not sure.

i think the most important thing i learned, whether true or not, besides not needing to be fixed, was that i could never trust anyone and never ask anyone for help again. i thought they would help me and i was excited. for some time, i thought it was my fault. at least partially. but now i am angry. i was 16. who would do that to a 16 year old who was looking for help because of how people had treated them?

for a while after i talked about arfid a ton on tumblr and also on wordpress. i created the actuallyarfid tag but became disillusioned when so many people in the tag just talked about wanting to get rid of it or their progress in getting rid of it. and eventually i couldn't even talk about it anymore. it was too tied to everything that happened and i was still so ashamed of it. it was to triggering. i stopped.

i think for similar reasons i have stopped associating so much with the autistic community online. i think it has jaded me so much to see so many people who have only had the slightest negative consequences of being autistic and do being autistic like putting on and taking off a coat after something like this happened to me. it was in this program that doctors first told my parents they think i am autistic though i wasnt diagnosed until later. i recognize now that having arfid is part of my being autistic but i don't like to talk about it in the context of having arfid because i don't feel like i 'have' anything. it is just me being me. and i use autistic as a label when i need to explain my needs and differences to people quickly and its fun to make jokes about being autistic sometimes but i dont like to constantly identify myself that way.

my parents are "health" nuts (fake garbage health bullshit) so they were still convinced my eating was going to kill me and many years later have taken me to see several nutritionists. and all these years later, after doctors many years ago declared i had a problem and would die, most of them did not see a huge problem with the way i eat. one of them in particular who i love and have seen over and over again at the behest of my parents has pointed out many things to me. there are plenty of adults who don't eat or barely eat fruits and vegetables. there are plenty of adults who eat the same thing every day (bring the same thing for lunch at work everyday anyone?). the world does not end. if you are different and you do it. then you are a problem and you need to be fixed. but if it is within socially acceptable norms, then it's okay.

i've always thought that some day i wanted to write about what happened to me publicly. in a paper or something. i want people to know. that this happened to me. that this happens to people. still. that it could very well happen to me again. though i'm not sure i could take public response if i did write about it. and after i got out of the program, i wrote it all in a journal, but then ripped it up and shredded it because the words weren't enough. they were so insignificant and i could never ever find the words to capture how horrifying it was what happened to me and how badly it ruined me and destroyed me. it changed my whole life and my perspective on everything. but i think now, almost 10 years later i am starting to find the words. and i think now i am less scared.

#i think now survivingpsych tag would like to look #i think this is the best i have ever written or explained it #most emotional and most explaining why #survivingpsych

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lucysweatslove · 1 year

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I got a notification that a claim for my ADHD neuropsych testing was approved.

I wanted to write up a whole thing about how absolutely ridiculous this is. But it’s honestly too much effort. (Edit, lmao I proceeded to write up a whole thing anyway)

I have incredible insurance. We have BCBS through my husband’s work, and they have amazing benefits. Like, “not possible to get a plan this good on the marketplace” amazing. The best plan on the marketplace rn is like $1130/month for two people, with a slightly lower PCP copay but higher deductible, OOP max, AND coinsurance. Can’t remember how much we pay in premiums, but it’s like… a couple hundred?

So, I’m not super mad that I have to pay $360ish to the neuropsych for the testing. I know it could be worse.

And that’s part of the problem. Sure, I have Cadillac insurance. I’m LUCKY. Incredibly fortunate or blessed or whatever. And maybe my state’s Medicaid would pay out for this too, but I don’t know. What I do know is that there is a significant care gap ALREADY for rural and low-income people here. What happens if you don’t qualify for Medicaid but can’t afford good health insurance? What if you can’t find a neuropsychologist in network? What if you end up responsible for the original $2,580, or even “just” the $1,330 allowable for BCBS? People can’t just afford that here, and this particular office won’t release any reports to you until you have paid. Meaning if somebody requires this service for a diagnosis but can’t pay- highly likely because ADHD can make holding down a job difficult- they’re SOL. They can’t get treatment.

I had to see a total of five people to get to this point. To be frank, I don’t even know yet if the report will corroborate my loved experience. I still don’t understand the point of this testing to begin with; I’ve had three people in the sphere say it’s likely, two of whom (a PhD and a therapist who specializes in neurodivergence) formally diagnosed me with ADHD. But this wasn’t seen as “good enough” for the third (a psych NP and PsyD) to fully diagnose me to prescribe me anything. I’m considered a “complicated case” because I was good at school growing up, have a trauma history, and have a history of depression, an eating disorder, and likely autism (also diagnosed by the same neurodivergence specialist, but that wasn’t good enough I guess to have it on my medical record). But here I am, having spent thousands at this point in copays, therapy for behavioral interventions, medications to treat other issues to “rule them out,” and various assessments. Thousands most people don’t have. Thousands that could be tens of thousands for the uninsured. And this most recent assessment? It involved a test that literally CANNOT differentiate between ADHD and other forms of cognitive and attention deficit, such as depression.

ADHD is a clinical diagnosis. I don’t mean that there is never a place for neuropsychology, but in the psychiatric world that my family is part of (note: dad is a psychiatrist; sister is in residency to soon be a board certified attending psychiatrist too), it’s not a hard diagnosis to make based on a structured clinical interview. (Even my therapist, the PhD, who has not just taught but been a DEAN, agrees- she is frustrated with me).

Why are we gatekeeping this diagnosis so heavily? Why is there such a strong assumption that people malinger to get an ADHD diagnosis and access to the scheduled drugs they need to participate in society? Why, when we have research that shows that ADHD is a huge risk factor for actual illicit drug use, abuse, and SUDs? You know what happens when you treat individuals who you clinically diagnose with ADHD? Rates of illicit drug use, drug abuse, and SUDs go down. Not up.

I’m just mad about it all.

#personal #adhd

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myriadxofxmuses · 2 months

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High key wanting rn....

Ethan being found out by his sister and forced into psychiatric care. Give me a shrink that handle his therapy sessions. Bonus points if we write it in an asylum.

Similarly, Oscar going to therapy for his PTSD. His disorder being triggered by a particularly taxing case and he's now required to have his psych eval and clearance done.

As always Gage slipping a few rungs down in his sobriety journey and finding his way back. This would largely deal with drugs, heroin specifically, and also alcohol.

TRIGGER WARNING for all of the above plots. They can get pretty dark at times. Mental health, murder, and addiction will be major points for the above plots. Especially with Ethan and Gage.

Also would love something crime related for Ivy. She's a hacker and I'd love to write her against someone on either side of the law. I don't get to write my girls that much and muse for her is pretty high rn too.

All plots are open to whoever. If they turn into ships, they are all hetero. Except for maybe Ivy. Im sort of toying with the idea that she could possibly be bi, so that would most likely be explored if a FxF thing seems to be happening. If not, then it can be whatever mix you want. MxF. MxM, FxF. It doesn't matter. Ship or no ship, I'm up for either path.

So, yea. Hmu if you're interested in any of them.

#wanted rp #wanted plots #open starter #horror rp #dark rp #oc rp #[curious and curiouser: asks]#[the heart's desire: wishlist]#[the fourth wall of a fourth wall is sixteen walls: ooc]#[comfortably numb: ethan]#[no one left behind: oscar]#[without music life would be a mistake: gage]#[i am who i am; your approval isn't needed: ivy]

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trans-axolotl · 10 months

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hi! I have a small psychiatry question? idk who to ask but I thought maybe u could give insight. I’m thinking about asking a new psychiatrist if they do med marijuana recs ..I’d ask over the phone first and see if I get an answer. I know any doctor can do it but I’m afraid that If I bring this up it could have negative consequences for me. I’ve heard people say never mention drug use to a psych. I wanted to go through a psych bc I’d prefer it over going through specialist that cost a lot. primary care doctor not an option either. do u think it’s worth a shot?… if this one doesn’t then I’d probably just ask other psychs which probably makes me look bad in their eyes but I have to find someone it’s so hard :(..

Hey anon!

You're going to be the expert on your situation and know all the different factors in play, but I can offer some things that I would consider before asking a psych for medical marijuana.

Are you at risk for psychiatric hospitalization? Have you been hospitalized in the past? Having weed usage on your record during psych hospitalization can sometimes make things worse in terms of the way doctors treat you, discharge planning, forced medication, etc.

Do you have a diagnosis like bipolar, BPD, or schizophrenia? if you have any diagnoses related to "impulsive behavior" or psychosis, psychiatrists get incredibly weird about it. I have a friend with schizophrenia who got hospitalized because she told her psych she was smoking again, and they considered that "high risk" because of the diagnoses on her record. I don't want to overexaggerate or scare you off, but want to flag that if you have any of those diagnoses, there are some additional concerns with disclosing weed usage.

Are there any situations in your life where you might need to share your medical record with people? For example court cases, at college for academic accommodations, certain jobs, immigration, etc. It can be good to think through what you want on the record. I know quite a few people who asked psychiatrists for medical marijuana and instead got a diagnosis of "substance use disorder" on their records, which caused them problems in other parts of their lives. It can be good to think through what that risk might look like for you.

If asking a psychiatrist is your only option, I totally get it. I think you have a really good plan to call and ask ahead before you're actually seeing them as a patient, so that you don't waste your time and also so that if they are going to be shitty about it, nothing gets officially written down. Some of my friends who have gotten their medical marijuana cards got it through telehealth with a random provider so that it wasn't really connected to the rest of their medical care, which might be something worth looking into. I've never gone through the process, so if any followers with relevant experience want to add on, please feel free!

Wishing you the best, anon, and I hope you're able to find a provider who will work with you!

#asks #antipsychiatry #weed

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

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Hi! This idea has been stuck in my head since I started following your healthcare AU! So I thought I would give it to you in case you wanted to write something…no pressure! Anyway, one of the links, in my head it’s Wind, is helping out with a psychiatric patient and the patient basically panics and either hurts Wind in the panic or just like holds him hostage until they get answers, and other members of the chain are there (like Wars and Legend) and they have to fix the situation while staying calm….or something like that lol. So yeah do with that what you will, that’s just been stuck in my head! : )

Hyrule stood at the doorway to the room waiting to give report after they had transferred the patient to the hospital bed. His partner had already left to clean the stretcher. Legend was clearly busy giving a different patient medication, and Hyrule wasn’t sure if there was any other nurse in this hallway.

Watching Legend chart something at the mobile workstation, brows furrowed in focus, Hyrule chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t really like that his patient got sent to the behavioral health hallway since his patient’s issue was drugs, not psych, but the unit was secure and his patient did need to be watched, so he supposed that was the reasoning. Also, the ED seemed really busy.

Warriors exited the closed off nurse’s station. “Hey, sorry for the wait. I’ll get report.”

Hyrule shrugged with a smile. “It’s all good, you guys looks busy.”

The pair entered the patient’s room, and Hyrule scanned the man sitting on the bed. He looked restless, fidgeting and playing with the sheet. He scratched at his arms a few times.

“Look, man, you gotta do something,” the patient said, growing agitated. “I know I’m having a heart attack.”

Sighing, the paramedic looked at Warriors, who was also observing the behavior. “Thirty-four year old male, complaining of chest pain and feeling anxious. He said he took approximately two grams of—”

“I said I’m having a heart attack!” the patient snapped.

“We heard you,” Warriors said calmly. “Let me get report and we’ll look you over.”

“He already knows what’s going on, he didn’t do jack shit!”

Hyrule tried to continue his report when the patient stood up, fists clenched. Warriors and Hyrule both took cautious steps towards the door.

“You need to do something about this!” the patient yelled.

Hyrule watched the man carefully. He’d been an absolute disgrace of a human being the entire transport, cussing Hyrule out for not doing what he was “supposed to be doing,” and then he’d spat on the floor for good measure. Hyrule’s patience was already worn to the breaking point.

“Sir, we are doing something about it,” Warriors continued. “Please sit down so the medic can tell me what’s going—”

The patient reached out, ready to either grab or throttle Warriors, and Hyrule sprang into action. He grabbed the man’s wrist and yanked his arm behind him before vaulting off the bed onto his back, making the drug user crash to the floor with Hyrule planting a knee in the center of his back while his arm was held behind him.

At this point, the man was screaming and kicking, and Hyrule pinned his other arm. He kicked his legs, but Warriors quickly held them in place as Legend seemingly materialized out of nowhere with a needle tipped syringe in hand. Kneeling down, Legend jabbed the needle into the man’s leg and pushed the medication quickly. The man’s cussing and yelling continued for a few long, loud seconds before he settled and passed out.

Warriors pulled away, putting a hand on Hyrule’s shoulder as he leaned back. The two sat on the ground staring at the patient a moment and then out a sigh of relief.

“The hell are you bringing us, Roolie?” Legend huffed, standing up. “I heard drug use but you didn’t say they were combative.”

“I told charge he was verbally combative,” Hyrule said helplessly as he stood, keeping a careful eye on the patient as Warriors assessed him. “I’m sorry that message didn’t get relayed.”

Legend tossed the syringe into the sharps box, shrugging. “Well it isn’t a problem now.”

Hyrule let out a breath laugh before the three hauled the unconscious man onto the bed and Legend pitched in to help with assessing him for injury. As Hyrule finally managed to give him the full report, the paramedic noticed someone wandering the hallway aimlessly.

“Uh, is she one of your patients?” he asked the pair.

Legend looked up and glanced out into the hall. “Miss Nyren, go back to your room, please.”

“Okay,” she giggled, heading back.

Legend sighed, resuming his work. “She’s harmless. Sweet lady, just in a manic episode. She just needs to be redirected is all.

“Does she have a sitter?” Warriors asked, finally charting and paging the doctor.

“They’re trying to find one for her,” Legend answered. Scratching his chin thoughtfully, he muttered, “Maybe I can get her a busy blanket to keep her occupied in the meantime.”

Hyrule sighed, looking at the patient again. “Sorry for that mess.”

“You kidding? I wish I could’ve gotten a picture of that!” Legend laughed. “Asshole deserved it. Idiot shoots himself up with poison and then gets pissed at the people who he called for help. It’s been a while since I’ve done the good old B52 nap.”

“You thought he was a threat,” Wars piped in. “Simple self defense. I was about to knock him out too.”

As the doctor entered the secured hallway, Hyrule decided it was time to get out of there. Too much paperwork and too many headaches were about to happen. Not that anyone would argue with the course of action, seeing as the alternative was letting a violent patient injure a nurse.

Slipping out of the unit before the door could close and lock, Hyrule headed back to his ambulance to handle the next disaster that was no doubt waiting for him.

#psych patients are way more of a danger to themselves than others #drug users on the other hand…#most volatile patients I’ve ever had are usually drug abusers #not all of them mind you #but some were a real piece of work #and they’re already agitated because of whatever garbage they pumped into their system #it’s a recipe for disaster #you ask skye answers #lovely anon #lu in healthcare #writing

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starblaster · 11 months

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informed "consent" does not really exist for some things in the medical system, and the people who hold power in these institutions (such as doctors, nurses, specialists) need to be doing more to avoid abusing the power they possess, even unintentionally.

and not to subject everyone to a long-winded personal anecdote to get my point across but this is my blog and if you don't like me talking about my experiences then idk why you're following me anyway since that's literally all i blog about.

recently, i went to a doctor to get my uterus checked out because i experience periods so rarely and, when i do menstruate, they're completely debilitating. i had to have a transvaginal ultrasound and a biopsy, and was told it was within the realm of possibility i could be developing endometrial cancer. now, thankfully, i am not nor am i necessarily at an elevated risk of developing endometrial or uterine cancer. but, for two weeks after the appointment, the uncertainty of my test results made me so upset, so stressed, and lose so much sleep because, after a life of psychiatric control both at home and in hospital environments, after having so many of my physical issues dismissed, being denied care or care forced upon me by bigoted providers, and generally having a shit run of things in a system that robbed me of bodily autonomy and agency of choice, for some reason, and i don't know why (maybe feeling like i was owed mercy after surviving so much for so long?), i felt like this was the one thing that shouldn't go wrong. after years of transitioning, i've reached a place where i'm happy with my top surgery results, i'm happy never having bottom surgery, i'm happy not needing to take testosterone anymore, i'm happy with all the permanent changes i've undergone. and i just thought 'this is all done, i summited the metaphorical peak of my transition, i am completely content with all my progress, and none of it will be interfered with or undone' but, of course, i did not account for my uterus potentially being a goddamn ticking timebomb.

like, let's say i really did have precancerous endometrial cells and i really did need to get my uterus removed. regardless of everything i was reading to reassure myself about things like the risks of premature menopause and the impact of a hysterectomy on future orgasms and sexual sensation, it would always be a decision about my body and medical care that i would have had to make to preserve my life, despite not wanting to make it in the first place. in the end, i would just have to have a hysterectomy and hope for the best. i'm relieved that, at least for the time being, this is not my reality. i get to keep my uterus. my hormonal treatment options are still not the most ideal… but at least i get to keep my uterus.

and i say all of this because it made me think about my traumatic history within the medical system, breaking my treatment options down into a matrix, using examples from my own medical history:

need/want (e.g. vaccines, top surgery)

need/don't want (e.g. biopsies, hormonal treatment for menorrhagia)

want/don't need (e.g. removal of small and benign pillar cyst)

don't want/don't need (e.g. psychiatric hospitalization, antipsychotic medications)

and when i thought of this, i was thinking about my intersex friends who have been subjected to "don't want/don't need" operations or 'treatments' in their lives, and fellow psychiatric survivors whose hospitalizations and prescribed 'treatments' also fall under the "don't want/don't need" category. and how doctors don't seem to really care about the wants/needs of patients.

medical providers have to do a better job of preventing the prescriptions of "don't want/don't need" options, especially in the cases of intersex, neurodivergent, and disabled patients who are almost always coerced into accepting them, if not forced by someone with conservatorship/control over them. medical providers also need to do a better job of helping patients experiencing emotional distress over having to choose something like a life-saving treatment option that they do not want other than simply referring them to a psychiatrist. speaking from experience, almost none of my doctors have ever actually given me the space to ask questions and receive answers. they just refer me elsewhere and refuse to help me. this has always been the case. i want medical providers to actually fucking talk to and communicate with their patients in scenarios like this, in which (potentially or literally) life-saving treatment is needed, but which the patient wishes they did not need. i feel like i am constantly being asked to tell my own medical care providers to do their fucking job and it is so goddamn tiring.

#antipsychiatry #suit.txt #psych abolition

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hussyknee · 1 year

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Got out of hospital on Sunday afternoon. I'm supposed to have gone to my cousin's down South today (Tuesday) to spend the week, except her brother, my other cousin, flaked on me for the seventh time.

First time was on Feb 13th when I told him I was getting myself admitted to the govt hospital by myself telling Mum I was going to stay with friends, but I needed someone in the family to know where I was just in case. He was abroad, asked his wife to call me, and when I told her in confidence I needed to be in hospital for suicidality, they told Mum. Hilariously also warned her not to let me know they told her bc I would lose all trust in them (no shit). Mum's version of subtlety was bursting in my room, demanding whether my ex husband had married someone else (?????), forbidding me to leave the house without her permission (I laughed in her face at that), and accusing me of stressing her out by living like a depressed hobo.

I called cousin and told him off. Made it very clear again that she doesn't want me to go to the hospital, has always hated that I'm getting psychiatric treatment, and every time I've been in psychiatric care she's harrassed me so badly we'd had to ban her from visiting me. Cuz was very contrite and promised to help; his wife is a nurse so they said they would help arrange food and necessities while I was in hospital.

Two days later on 15th, I realized lugging my suitcase alone to a govt hospital (which I had never done before) and figuring out the logistics of checking myself in was giving me too much anxiety, and asked for his help that he has offered earlier. He said "we will see" once he got back to the country on Sat. And then never called.

I said "fuck it" on Tuesday 14th, left my suitcase at home and went to the hospital on my own. Was instantly admitted, given the last remaining bed that was broken in the middle, in a small, dingy room where a teenage girl just would not shut up and the bedside cabinet was so filthy I didn't want to put my bag on it. Called and left increasingly frantic messages to my cousin to please help tell Mum and bring my stuff, calls and messages to my doc that I couldn't stay here, and after receiving dead silence in return I had an anxiety attack and just ran out of hospital.

Hospital called Mum when they found out I was missing. Doc told us both she wouldn't admit me if I didn't want to stay there but we'll figure something out. Asked Mum to come see her with me the following morning. She agreed, and then just...didn't.

Cousin sent a message two days later saying he had been busy with a workshop since he got back.

Doc consulted at the general hospital on Mondays, so I waited and went to see her alone again. Hours of queues and waiting later, they told me she was on leave till next week. I started to cry, so they told me to simply come to the ward on Friday and meet her.

By that time I was out of money, out of hope and out of help. I started gathering materials for my exit bag and composed a quasi-farewell note on Twitter. Someone immediately contacted me and offered to fundraise. My other two friends also got on board, wrestled with a write-up for two days, and set up the GFM. Met the target within two days. I already had like one foot in the grave so the realization I might be able to live was confounding.

On Monday 6th I messaged cousin again.

Cuz: How are you? I heard you got admitted and then came back? Felt guilty as I couldn’t help. Was busy throughout that week.

Me: It's fine. Yes the hospital was not in good condition and it stressed me out. A couple of my friends abroad fundraised for me last week and they now have enough for me to try an private hospital

Me: I'm going to meet my doctor this morning so she can advise to on next steps

Me: Again, I didn't tell Mum, I plan to let her know once I have the go ahead. But it would be great if you could help. It's difficult to co-ordinate things on my own and Mum will freak out obviously

Cuz: I will, sister. I had a chat with your mom a few days back. Let me know what your doc says

Doc asked me to come early March 7th. I got late. Hours of queues later, they told me she had left hours ago. I broke down crying. Alarmed, they sent me to wait outside the psychiatric ward for when she'd be back for ward rounds. I sat out there alone for 2 hours, had 3 consecutive panic attacks, decided to kill myself. Send Mum a vitriolic rant that she and her husband should burn in hell and to know I cursed them to my last breath. Mum called and I ignored. She messaged threatening to go to the police. I disassociated and tearfully messaged my former therapist she can't just dump people like she did to me. Started trying to think of ways to kill myself without going home and panicked because I hadn't planned for any of them. Therapist called in concern and I sobbed that I had been waiting 3 hours and doc wasn't here and I didn't know how to kill myself and couldn't go home. Therapist made me give the phone to a nurse (had to find someone who didn't look at me like I was crazy and refuse to take it) and got her to page my doc.

FINALLY saw doc. She gave me a letter and told me which private hospital to get admitted to. I was still half not entirely there so I called cousin and she explained it to him as well. I was going to go directly to hospital and send for my things, but now I was calmer, cousin persuaded me to let him collect me and drop me home. He then told me to shower and pack and wait for Mum to come home, and then leave. I thought he was supposed to take me to the hospital. But he insisted I talk to Mum. But fine. I could do that and take a cab.

Showered, packed. Woman never turned up. Apparently after threatening to go to the police and having histrionics at half the family, she couldn't be arsed to leave work early. Messaged cousin, no reply. Got dark and started storming. I started having another panic attack. Messaged cousin urgently to take me to hospital because I was too out of it to take a cab. No answer. Called Mum. Said she was on her way. Hour passed. I was now screaming at the top of my lungs and bashing my head against the wall begging anyone and everyone to take me to the hospital. Neighbors heard me over the storm and called the house. Was going full on Exorcism of Emily Rose. Unblocked best friend and went on a tirade against her that sounded like a psychotic break of some kind. Instead of getting mad, she called me and listened to me howl and sob and soothed me. Called Mum again. It had been two hours since last call. Said she was on her way. I fell asleep crying.

10pm. Woke up screaming for Mum to take me to hospital. Mum burst in and said I wasn't going anywhere and to shut up and get on the bed so she could pray and apply holy oil on me. Last time I had a horrible colitis flare and begging to be taken to the hospital for an IV also she refused and forcibly annointed me with holy oil. I grabbed her bottle of holy oil and smashed it. She screamed at me that I was in her house and I would obey her. Yelled "IN THE NAME OF JESUS I CAST YOU OUT SATAN! THE POWER OF CHRIST–" and I shoved her out and locked the door. She banged on the door yelling her phone was inside. I opened the door and threw her phone at her head. She yelled that she was the one who had bought me my phone and she would call the police if I destroyed anything else.

At this point I had had four hours-long panic attacks. Was convinced I was going to die here. Made a long twitter thread enumerating the abuse and neglect and religious abuse my brother and I have been enduring at my mother's hands, ending that we would both die here. Friends immediately mobilized. I sent them all each other's numbers. One friend arranged a vehicle, another took it from the ass end of the city to my place. Two more stayed on the phone with me and walked me through getting ready and staying conscious. Snuck out of the house at half past midnight. Was half dead. Friend admitted me to the hospital and spent all night with me. Then another friend took half his work day over and stayed. Another friend I hasn't met in ten years came to see me from work and stayed late. They finally engaged a nursing service because it was hospital policy not to leave patients unattended. They were lovely too. I was so medicated I could barely help with anything, just cried and was so touch-starved I clung to my friends like a burr.

Cousin called me in the morning to ask where I was. I told him I held him responsible and would not be telling him which hospital I was in.

But more than anything I wanted my best friend. She and my closest friends were my real family and I deliberately ruined my relationships with them and drove them away because of years of undiagnosed OCD and because I wanted to destroy my relationships so I could kill myself. Bestie's kindness extended to keeping me company until I was medicated, but then she had to withdraw to heal from what I had done to her.

Spent five wonderful days in hospital. Was fed on time things I liked to eat, medicated, tucked into sleep. No thoughts. Life of a 5 yo basically. Attendants also very affectionate. Desperate for that kind of care for a longer term.

Also the attendants got very attached to me fsr. I'm a natural oversharer but I was also very doped and lonely, so I chatted a lot with them so they got to know about my medical stuff and home situ. And how passionate I was about social justice and animals and stuff. First one straight up wanted to adopt me or something. First one stayed 2 days then had to leave for family emergency. Second one tucked me in like a 5 yr old and hugged me and stroked my head till I fell asleep. She also checked up on me twice after I got home. They were like "I will call you squishy and you will be my squishy" 😂 'Twas very nice. Apparently, for all I am an intimidating menace online, irl I am babie. They were very poor and struggling ladies who needed someone to talk to as much as I did, I think.

Cousin was then supposed to come help me discharge and drop me home. So to nobody's surprise, I ended up doing all the paperwork, paying the bill, arranging a cab and going home by myself. (My beloved friends were unfortunately very stuck that day and I took my attendant with me to drop off at her stop halfway, so if wasn't quite as pitiful as it sounds.)

Nobody was home when I got there, but it was the unanimous conclusion that I need to gtfo. Cousin sister has been insistent I come stay with her bless her. Cousin again promised to drop me off at hers (lmao). Unfortunately the family cat is sick with half his face scabbed over, and the demons here would let him die if it was up to them. But he also keeps fucking off to roam before I can corral him to the vet.

Nevertheless, I was all packed and ready to gtfo today, except to exactly nobody's suprise, cousin messaged he was busy with a leadership conference and couldn't take me till tomorrow afternoon. So now I'm looking up intercity bus tickets because if he actually turns up tomorrow I will take it as a sign of the end times. He also assured me that Mum has called my aunties and accepted that she fucked up LMAOOOOO. I fucking hate these people. She could literally murder us all in cold blood and they'd find some kind of apologism for it. Jesus wept.

Meanwhile, I am still depressed but I am on so much Valium I don't even care.

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urionstandby · 10 days

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hi everyone! how r u doing?

i was looking for some advice here, to anyone that might know what to do. just in case this topic is triggering for someone, im gonna talk abt psychiatric medication, mention mental hospitals, some abuse and several other mental issues. im not gonna get into detail but please, if any of these things will make u feel bad, don't read this. I just really don't know what to do.

i had some issues from when I was twelve til I was like 17, when i started getting a lot better. I was in a mental hospital at twelve, fifteen and sixteen, a month and a half each time. I was given a serious diagnosis at twelve and plenty doctors told me later in life (pretty late honestly) that it totally wasn't that. also, every brain scan I've ever had showed no symptoms of this condition that would have totally appeared on the images.

for context, the place I grew up in was a total nightmare. not gonna go into detail as I said in the beginning, but it had to do a lot with the fact that my mother was neglecting me, emotionally and also verbally abusing me from a very young age, and it didn't help at all that she had a lot of boyfriends she'd bring to live with us after only a month of knowing them (since I was four till I decided to gain some inner and mental peace and got a job and moved out, this happened). so the first time I was addmited to the mental hospital, I discovered there a safe place where I was heard and cared for, also a routine and stability I had never had (for more context, at nineteen years old I moved houses about ten times, that I can remember obviously).

so, I been on different medications for the last seven years. the final diagnosis was this thing where my mood can shift from being very happy to very sad (not bipolar disorder), supposedly being about my brain chemistry and not about the fact that I've been on survival mode since my birth until I finally left my mother's house and moved with my father (a very loving, patient and caring man that showed me what compassion and true care really felt like). plenty of doctors told me that I don't really need the medication at all right now, and also I don't have the best psychiatrist honestly. she never really texts me to see how I'm doing or to call me, the only times we talk are when I text her to get my prescription or when I'm feeling down and need to talk. she is being paid for doing nothing basically.

three months ago, I moved in with what started as a three-person relationship, a girl and a boy. the girl turned out to be narcissistic and manipulative, something I learned to detect and stay away from based on my mother and past relationships. she hurt me and this boy a lot, phisically and emotionally, and then acted like it was our fault if we got sad or angry. anyway, with my boyfriend we discussed this and ended things with her, she moved out and we're living alone. it wasn't easy obviously. she wouldn't leave without screaming and saying very hurtful things, trying to turn my boyfriend and I against each other which clearly didn't work. I also would like to clarify that at least my boyfriend and I were very excited with all the future we were planing for the three of us, trying really hard to keep going even though things were very complicated and were making us so sad all the time. we truly loved her, and although I saw fairly quickly what she was all about, I would never get involved in my boyfriend's process and talk shit abt her with him, I would never want to feel like I'm getting in the way and trying to split us up. so I waited even if it hurt, every word and hit and every trigger she caused in both me and my boyfriend. and u may wonder, why did I stayed there after all that? simply bc of the loving boy that showed me some true and unconditional love I have never had; someone so sweet, patient, sensitive, kind, compassionate and so so empathic that hurting me will make him feel just as bad but won't even make it about him. the very few times it happened, he was able to apologize and recognize what he did wrong and most importantly, never did it again. I would never leave him alone in that situation, and what made him see all of this was seeing the way she hurt me, which also made him notice he felt the same way without me saying anything. it may sound like the bare minimum but honestly, I come from a very very abusive (in every way imaginable) past relationship were I was only worth my body and what I could do with it, just showing me the right amount of affection to make me stay there while he just got what he wanted: someone so broken and selfless that wouldn't care how many times she was truly hurt and would run to confront him even though he was the one who really messed up. I'm a lot better now about it, sometimes it hurts to think about those two years I stayed with him but at least now I can recognize the patterns and stay the hell away from them. (don't know if this is important, but I was 17 when we got together and he was 19).

so, now things are getting better, really better. it's so sad that the house feels so much lighter and filled with love and laughter since our ex girlfriend left, but it's also so relieving. my boyfriend and I are able to laugh and dance and love eachother every day although things weren't easy, proving that we are really stronger that anything that can happen.

it's important to mention that when I started taking my pills I was taking a very high dosage (two 100mg pills every day) and it was truly horrible. it only turned off my brain, made me feel absolutely nothing and really sleepy, unable to focus and unable to think straight. thanks to this, I missed all of my high-school years. I was there, but my brain wasn't. with the years and talking with my psychiatrist, I was able to take down the dosage to only a quarter of a 100mg pill. the thing is, in the almost three months I had been with my ex girlfriend, when I was taking half a pill, I missed it for one or two days at a time. sometimes because I forgot and when I remembered, it was late and I knew I wasn't going to wake up for another 16 hours like it always happens, and other times because I just didn't want my brain to shut off like that. it's so horrible that my body just keeps going until it gives up. and almost every time I took the pills, I suffered serious tics until my body gave up and I fell asleep. it was a nightmare. so, I talked to my psychiatrist and managed to take it down to a quarter. gonna be honest, I'm not taking them anymore. I had always hated them, but now I know that I went slowly with it and not suddenly, and that other therapists that really care told me I never really needed them (I just needed to get out of my house honestly. another nightmare I lived in for 18 years). as u can see, I hadn't had it any easy haha.

to make things worst, I started to work again in a very stressful job that keeps me away from home and my partner all day, that started to make me really depressed and so so tired. I wasn't feeling like this before, it all started with this job and as things are very complicated economically, I was willing to try and hold on. it was really turning me into a different person, I was being so impatient and sometimes desconsiderate with my partner, something I only realized after I said some things and got so hurt that I would ever say it and make my partner feel that way. I'm not the kind of person to not think before I talk, and I would never ever hurt anyone intentionally, even less if it's my wonderful boyfriend. I was also feeling so distanced from him and from the only place I could call a home and a safe place, and that hurt so much.

I take a bike for work, and two days ago when I was going to the afternoon shift (I worked morning and afternoon, with enough time to go home at 14:30 pm and stay there for half an hour to eat and talk a bit with my partner before having to go back and come home around nine pm) I got hit by a motorcycle that was going fast and not really looking where they were going. the hit was bad, but at the moment with the adrenaline and the shock I just got up, carried my broken bike for eleven blocks and worked anyway. when I got there, I could barely lift my right arm and everything hurt so much. I was dizzy and felt like I had a fever, and I worked anyway. at night, i told my supervisor (that knew exactly what happened and how I was feeling) that I didn't know if I could go in at work the next day. she got mad that we're short-staffed and she wasn't being noticed with enough time, and forced me to go anyway. the next day (yesterday) I woke up and couldn't get up. I was so uncomfortable and crying from the pain, I actually been needing help getting dressed up, getting up and even going the bathroom and showering. when my boyfriend saw me like this, he talked some sense into stubborn me and I talked with my supervisor to let her know I couldn't go in that day, that I would be going to the hospital as soon as I could. she got really mad and told me that they didn't handle things that way there, and that we would need more organization.

my boyfriend took me to the er that day and we spent the whole day there, me crying from pain and exhaustion and barely moving without help. they gave me very strong medication that did nothing, so they had to put me into the emergency room and give me morphine, which only made me stop crying and feeling everything in my body except for my shoulder. also, in this whole hour I was with morphine and being mistreated by nurses (which had to put the morphine twice as the first time they did it so wrong my arm started to swell and hurt really bad) my partner couldn't even be there bc of the protocol, so I was alone and scared in a white room I found so recognizable with no battery on my phone to talk to my loved ones.

after being in the hospital for almost eight hours, I found out I have a fractured rib and a very badly hurt shoulder. I was prescribed the strongest medication they could give me and an orthopedic thing to cure my rib. I haven't been sleeping well because every position is either hurting me or extremely uncomfortable and not eating well because of the nausea from the two medications I'm taking. I talked to my mom (that tried to be helpful and payed for food and medication but in the process told me that I was exaggerating and other really, really hurtful things a parent should never say to their child even if they think they're joking) and she says that if I'm feeling down or having tics (that only come when I'm truly exhausted and not home) it's just because I suspended my medication. this got me thinking and after a rough night were I slept like five hours and had to wake up from the pain, I woke up so sad. so so sad. I get it after writing all of this that is comprehensible to feel this way, also because I'm probably getting fired and the economy in my country is in such a state that we would need serious help from my father and mother-in-law if I don't have the job. but it also makes me angry, because my boyfriend has been so wonderful with all of this. he has been caring for me and doing everything for me, even helping me to take my pants down to go to the toilet and showering me. also, he made things so easy and I was even laughing and feeling kinda good emotionally when I was with him. he never once made me feel bad about all the help I was getting (and needing so much help for everything is very hard for me, especially bc I was forced to do everything alone since I can remember, the only help I got later being thrown in my face and giving me so much guilt).

the question is, I don't really know if I'm feeling like this bc of my medication. I know I didn't quit taking them suddenly, my psychiatrist told me we could take the dosage down and I went really slowly with it. also as I said, plenty of doctors told me I didn't really need them and that my doctor was just giving them to me to get paid, not really caring about how I was really feeling. I was doing pretty well considering how things are going, and considering I was told all my life I could never live on my own or do basically anything on my own. I've acomplished so much in the last years that everyone that cares is so proud, and I am too.

it's just that after the comment my mother made, I'm kinda starting to feel she might be right. I've been honselty feeling very good in the last time without taking my pills, it's just the situation is so difficult. I don't ever want to take those pills again, they make my brain shut off all day and I can't enjoy anything. they weren't even making me feel good emotionally as they should, they just cancel every emotion.

also, my mother has a history of believing the really bad doctors over me just because they did and said what she wanted, and the only psychologists that were truly helping me and making me feel heard and making me see a lot of things were suddenly terrible and bad for me, so she forced me to change therapists again (one of the therapists I had that she never really let me stop seeing was on her phone during sessions, told me all the time I was exaggerating, and even told me when I was abused by my ex partner that boys are all like that and that I shouldn't leave him just for that. she was part of the reason I stayed with him for so long).

I don't really know what to do. I don't wanna go back to that job but the economy is just so complicated. should I let some time pass and see if I get better (emotionally and physically)? I'm so lost and so sad.

if you read all of this, thank you so much. my current psychologist isn't responding to my texts, she only tells me she'll see if she can give me a time for a session but never does. it might have to do with the fact that I couldn't pay for the last two (and very expensive) sessions because I have no money and no help from the mother who told me would pay for all of this. the therapist know all of this. so, I haven't had any psychological help either. please, if you could give me any constructive advice I would be so thankful. and also, if you're gonna comment, please be considerate, I'm in such a bad place right now I couldn't handle any more bad words.

again, thank u if u read all of this. take care of yourself, drink water and eat something and if u can, move a little. hope u are feeling well <3

#please help #advice #mental issues #tw sensitive content #desperately need some advice

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