#like I don't know how to describe how well therapy goes when the client and clincian are speaking the same language it's really cool | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 2 years

Text

I was talking to a client today about "how to identify masking" as part of the process of learning how to shift masking from a reflexive coping strategy to a voluntary and conscious one and I feel like it led to a really important shift in framework FOR ME about masking and social distress.

Paraphrasing, the ideas we came to are as follows:

One of the reasons masking can be so difficult to recognize is because, essentially, masking is the act of performing "yourself" as a mirror for the other person you are interacting with. It's this idea of "I will micro-manage my own mood, affect, behavior, mannerisms, and environment in order to reflect back to you whatever version of "self" you need from me because if I don't there will be consequences". So because masking is essentially performing "mirroring" as selfhood by amplifying or minimizing aspects of yourself based on what you think the other person wants to see in you, it varies significantly from one context to another. The major commonality is that it takes up an INCREDIBLE amount of energy, mental and emotional resources, cognitive processing power, etc. So you don't identify masking by specific behaviors so much as by the feeling of "having a significant amount of your mental/emotional resources be occupied by the act of social interaction" to the point that it doesn't leave enough left-over for other cognitive tasks, or leaves you feeling exhausted and worn out, or basically by the impact that masking has on you during and after.

In this framework, part of why we get so anxious about new or unfamiliar people or situations is because we don't know how to mask in that context yet, and so until we get there and figure it out, we're basically just terrified of what could go wrong since we don't know what we're walking into.*

*This is the underlying framework of anticipatory and obsessive anxiety as well. Anticipatory and obsessive anxiety functions as the mechanism by which we conduct both predictive reasoning-basd advance planning and review/self-correctionof our mental predictive model.

Autistic aversion to uncertainty has a lot to do with our need to be able to use predictive reasoning-based advance planning to cope with "social deficits" aka how much harder it is for us to interpret subtextual/nonverbal cues, learn/meet social expectations, and work through/around disordered sensory processing. That predictive reasoning requires us to be familiar, in advance, with the stable constant factors that influence decision making in social contexts. If we aren't familiar with the constant variables than we can't plan, if we can't plan than we are more likely to make noticeable social mis-steps, and if we take notable social mis-steps there are consequences. It becomes necessary for us to be hypervigilent to observable patterns in other people's behavior in order to try to reverse engineer the social interaction playbook on the fly. That ends up making us more likely to assume personal responsibility for predicting and managing the emotional regulatory needs of people around us at all costs, replicating the behavioral/cognitive impacts of chronic traumatic stress due to the activation of our sympathetic nervous system from chronic hypervigilence.

Essentially, masking is a cognitive defense mechanism to severe and/or persistant traumatic interpersonal stressors. As the neurological impacts of chronic traumatic stress heal, we mask less frequently. But in order to heal from chronic traumatic stress, the human brain requires a safe environment that does not trigger a retraumatization episode or replicate feelings of helplessness/fear for safety. In other words, reducing/terminating masking safely requires us as autistic people to have consistent access to social environments in which we are able to utilize autistic interpersonal boundaries without fear of consequence or chonically unmet need. This requires the people around us to be able to respect not only autistic interpersonal boundaries, but also autistic self-expression/advocacy modalities and mediums.

I feel like a lot of the pieces of this framework have been rattling around in my head for a while but the flavor of words hit just right today and all the connections snapped into place.

Anyway, I'm still sort of sorting through the clinical implications of this framework but I think it's a direction I want to keep exploring for sure.

#i love my ASD client sessions it's so fucking MAGICAL how much those clients are thriving as we work together #like I don't know how to describe how well therapy goes when the client and clincian are speaking the same language it's really cool #anyway I feel like this is going to be part of how I assert the validity of my new modality because hot damn does it sync up perfectly #this framework so perfectly outlines the logical justification for the modality's clinical foundations #which will be really helpful in asserting the extant body of literature/evidence base for those clinical foundations as relevant #i need to update the files for my thesiiiiiiiiiiiiiis #actuallyautistic

2K notes · View notes

goddessofthundathighs · 5 years

Text

Happy early birthday to my twin @panthergoddessbast! Always remember that I love you immensely! 😘

—————————————

VI. THREE-HEADED MONSTER

The sexual tension on the ride back to O'Shea's house was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Erik could feel the way her eyes bore into the side of his face, her stare unrelenting. She wanted more, but he still didn't think she deserved it. She was gonna have to work for the dick, no matter how many times her hand brushed against his hardening third leg.

"What are you doing, Ms. Powell?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the road.

"I was a good girl at dinner. I think I deserve a treat."

"You got one in the bathroom, don't be greedy Princess." This made Shea pout, but she was determined to make him break.

"Please Daddy?" she tried again, sliding her perfectly manicured coffin nail up his thigh.

"O'Shea, I said no," he scolded firmly causing her to recoil slightly.

"No?" she inquired, her eyebrow raised in confusion. Being the spoiled Daddy's girl she was, no wasn't a word she was used to hearing. Erik noticed her change in demeanor and decided to exploit the situation.

"Yes, I said no, Bianca. Any other questions?" She huffed loudly, turning her body back to face the windshield.

"First of all, I'm an adult and you will address me as such. You're going to give in eventually. That tent in ya pants will need to be handled somehow."

"I have Skylar for that," he added just to antagonize her further.

"Nice try, but Skylar is a lesbian."

"Skylar is just like you, she doesn't give a fuck who eats her pussy, I'm just the only man she lets do it," he replied with a shit-eating grin. O'Shea remained silent the rest of the ride to her place, not even bothering to give him a look back as she walked up to her door and into the house. He couldn't exactly explain why, but he loved getting her riled up the way he had. He loved seeing the fire in her eyes when she was angry at him. It made his dick even harder and the dormant beast within him began to come to life.

Let me have a taste, the beast growled.

"Soon, big fella. Soon," he told himself. Little did O'Shea know he had his own Bennie, and Killmonger was an expert brat tamer.

"Why in the fuck would you tell her that? She should've punched your ass," Skylar fussed from her seat behind Erik's desk. She was on the computer, her long nails tittering away on the keyboard as she worked on an informative pamphlet for her own clients.

"The three major components of the cognitive-behavioral approach are: (a) replacement of sexual anxiety with sexual comfort; (b) adopting positive sexual attitudes and learning sexual skills; and (c) a program of individually designed sexual exercises to be done between therapy sessions. The goal of this therapy is to develop a comfortable, functional, and satisfying sexual style... How does that sound," she asked aloud.

"Like you copied and pasted it from a generic article but it serves its purpose and describes what we do. I might just change the name of the practice to mine and steal your pamphlets."

"I don't think so," Skylar mumbled printing multiple pamphlets before ejecting her drive.

"You couldn't do that in your office?" Erik teased watching her lips purse in indignation.

"I could've but I was already here," she replied, taking a sip from her caramel macchiato. "So how are things going with you and Shea?"

"Oh the usual, however, I think we're making progress with her attitude. She's starting to learn that acting out and misbehaving gets her nothing but blue balls."

"I don't think women can get blue balls, but go off I guess."

"Shut up you know what I meant, nigga," he replied, blowing the wrapper of his straw in her direction. The pair shared a laugh before Erik grabbed his leather notebook from the desk drawer.

"I need help coming up with the next method I want to try with her. She's the ideal candidate for experimental therapies. We can really take this thing as far as it goes with her. Hypnotherapy was successful, I've taken thorough notes on that session after watching the footage a few times. And the toy. The toy did exactly what it was designed to do. However, it's not just toys and hypnotism. I've found that engaging her in non-sexual ways are just as effective to bring out her little personalities.

"Oh, so you met them already." Sky leaned forward interested in where the conversation was headed.

"I've tapped into her Little behavior and experimented with some of her kinks. Buttercup is the Little and she appears whenever she feels that I'm upset with her. There are layers to that psychologically that I'd like to examine."

"Hmm," Skylar nodded intrigued.

"Bianca is the brat you and I are used to."

"Too used to it." Skylar's eyes roll.

"She's obviously triggered by the word 'No' and tends to act out when she doesn't get her way. She's also fairly easy to contain... Bennie-"

"You don't need to tell me about Bennie, I work in a sex shop. Bennie comes to work every day."

"I'm kinda stuck now... I have all of this leeway yet I can't decide which method to use next. When I look at her I see endless possibilities. Since you know her, what do you suggest?"

"How about you do some type of exercise in which you bring all of her little personalities to the surface? Get her high."

"Seriously? That's it?"

"Yeah. You'd be amazed at what you'll learn from her when she's under the influence." Erik rubbed his chin as he pondered the thought.

"But you know how I get when I'm high, Sky," he said, sending a sly grin her way.

"Boy get your slick ass away from me. Save the bedroom eyes for O'Shea, thanks."

"On some serious shit though, how do I go about asking her to the crib? That violates all types of rules and crosses all types of barriers."

"Well technically it doesn't because it's possible to file it under intensive in-home services," she chuckled.

"Sky..."

"Okay, seriously working with the client in their home is not out of the ordinary. Don't make this weird."

"Aight, so you think we should do this at her crib since I've already been there before?"

"Yes. Her home is easier to justify on paper since it's familiar territory and she'll be more relaxed in her own space versus yours."

"Yo smart ass! That's why I keep you around," he said kissing her forehead repeatedly.

"I thought it was because I rolled the best weed but both compliments will do."

"You know I love you girl. That reminds me, you still got that dispensary connect in LA?"

"Maybe, why? You tryna get some specialty shit?"

"Yes, ma'am. Something that will ease her mind and body and allow her to open up to me."

"I know just the thing. It's called Green Goddess."

"Ooh, sounds exotic. I need two ounces."

"$2500."

"You know my account info. Get it for me and bring it by. Oooh, bring some In & Out too. And Cold Stones."

"Nigga is O'Shea the female in this situation or you?"

"Hush woman and do what I say," he said with a sharp smack to her ass.

"Yes Daddy," she teased in a soft, Princess-like voice.

"Aye chill out, it's been a minute." Skylar's soft giggle rang throughout the hallway as she walked towards the entrance. He thought for a minute before typing a quick text to O'Shea.

Busy tonight?

Nah why?

Netflix and chill at your crib? I'll bring the bud and food.

You had me at bud. See you at 7.

"Spoiled ass," he chuckled as he put his phone away.

The rest of the work day went by smoothly and soon it was time to head to his patient's house. As usual, Skylar came through with the bud he requested and both his and Shea's favorite meals from In & Out and ice cream from Cold Stones.

"At this point, you owe me your life," Sky fussed from her desk. "Traffic was hell. There was an accident, a four-car pileup." She was working late due to Erik and his needy ways so she opted to facetime him as he made his way to O'Shea's house to make her frustrations known.

"I knew it would be something that's why I knew I wouldn't have the time or patience. But you know I always got you, ma. If all else fails, I'm marrying you."

"Choke on rocks," she pouted. "Always using me for the shit you don't wanna do. I'm getting a new best friend, one that respects how great I am and loves me for me."

"If it's a dude, I'ma kill him. Killmonger don't share."

"I ain't Killmonger's bitch," she countered. "And murder is very much so illegal. This ain't the Navy." He smiled, revealing his bottom row of gold. He cleared his throat before dropping his voice several octaves.

"You sure about that, ma?"

"Oh no, put the demon away."

"Nah, you said you were replacing us. You sure you wanna do that?"

"Unlike O'Shea, I can do what I want, but no sweetheart, I'd never replace you."

"Pinky promise and swear on Crip."

"On Crip, I'd never replace you and you know we don't lie on the hood."

"Aight we good. I'll call you later to let you know how things go." The pair shared their goodbyes and Erik exited his vehicle.

"You're early," O'Shea noted as she stepped back to let him in. The clock on the microwave read 5:30.

"Work was light and I figured I'd just go ahead and come over. Problem?"

"No. Is that Cold Stones?" She asked wide-eyed.

"Yes it is and no you can't have it."

"B-But why?" she pouted.

"Later, Bianca."

"How many times must I remind you that I am an adult?"

"Barely," he regarded with a smirk as he made his way to her kitchen. She followed him the whole way, pouting all the while as he pulled everything out of the bags.

"Fix ya face or you won't get any at all."

"That's not fair!" she pouted harder, folding her arms over her chest.

"Life isn't fair, Lil' Mama."

"This is some bullshit," she fussed as she walked to the couch.

"Bet. I'll keep this sweet cream and oreo shit to myself," he teased, noticing how her mouth dropped in shock. Erik's grin only widened as he walked over to the couch with their food and drinks.

"So what we watching, Bianca Boo?" he asked, reaching for the remote.

"First of all, my name is O'Shea."

"You're acting like a brat so your name is Bianca, now answer my question."

"Can we watch Hercules?"

"Fuckin' child," he mumbled as he pressed play on the movie. The couple ate, sang, and smoked as they breezed through their little Disney movie marathon. From Hercules to Mulan to The Emperor's New Groove they relived their childhoods while the Green Goddess indica worked its magic to mellow them both out and allow them to talk and bond on a more personal level. Several hours into the Disney and chill session, O'Shea figured she'd try her luck again. She noted how much more mellow Erik was when he was under the influence, using this opportunity to fully appreciate how good he looked dressed down. The charcoal gray turtleneck clung to his muscles effortlessly, barely covering the Patek Phillipe watch on his left wrist. His black slacks fit him well, as though they were tailor-made just for him. Her eyes remained glued to the bulge in his pants as he sat with his legs spread wide on the couch. O'Shea fought hard to keep herself from staring, but of course, Erik noticed. He had been watching her watch him for the last 20 minutes and the beast within him noticed too.

"You gone suck or just stare at it?" Killmonger growled, startling O'Shea from her shameless eyefucking. The deep timbre of his voice had her quaking and before he could change his mind, she dropped down to her knees in front of him, seizing her moment to strike him down to a base level of weakness. Surely he could not withstand her oral talent no matter what contenders he'd faced before. Skylar was a master of oral sex when it came to women, but O'Shea was the oracle when it came to men. She looked up at him innocently as she took him into her mouth, lightly teasing his tip with gentle licks before finally taking as much of him as she could down her throat. Though she was cursed with a gag reflex, she was still a master at her craft and the way he was moaning above her proved that she hadn't lost her touch. His stout, thick fingers found their way into her curly mane, lightly gripping her tresses to help guide her head up and down his shaft.

"Just like that, Shea. Grip that shit, stroke what you can't fit in that wet ass mouth," he encouraged. O'Shea moaned around his shaft, using his praises as encouragement to show out on the dick. She wasn't sure when she'd get him this loose again and wanted to make sure this experience was memorable. Just as she was finding her groove, he made the most awful sound above her.

"Ah, shit! What the fuck?!"

"Wait, stop moving!"

"That shit hurt, what the fuck did you just do to me?" In all of the 5 years that O'Shea had had her braces, never once had they gotten caught on anyone. Leave it to Erik Stevens to be the unlucky contender.

"I-I'm sorry, that's never happened before," she said fighting back her laughter. He was being more dramatic than the situation really called for.

"Oh, that shit's funny to you? I'm fucking bleeding."

"You're not, but ok," she said standing from her position on the floor.

"Man move," he fussed, rushing to the bathroom to assess the damages.

20 minutes. 20 whole minutes was how long he left her to her own psyche while he calmed down. He knew she didn't mean to do it, but the fact that she laughed is what really pissed him off. Once he composed himself, he walked out to see her back on the couch with her head down towards the floor. He didn't speak to her, only went to the kitchen to throw away the trash and grab his keys.

"So are you going to leave and not speak to me? I told you it was an accident."

"I know, Buttercup and I'm not upset. I just think it's a good idea to end this session where it is. I'll have Harper contact you about your next appointment. Have a good night." With that and a kiss to the back of her hand, he walked outside and back to his car, leaving O'Shea a confused, sad mess. She didn't do well with people being mad at her, especially at this point in her life when her little personalities were fully functioning entities. The buzz of her phone brought her out of her psyche.

"Daddy's sorry for the way he left you, Buttercup. I meant what I said about not being angry at what happened, but what really pissed me off is the fact that you thought it was funny."

"But you laugh at my pain all the time," she replied meekly, curling up into a ball on the couch.

"I don't laugh at your pain, I laugh at the fact that you think you run shit. How about this, let's meet somewhere and talk about it."

"Where?"

"Cold Stones."

"But I have ice cream in the freezer."

"Since when have you turned down more?"

"Touché. Give me 10 minutes." She quickly dressed, happy that he wasn't upset and that he still wanted to continue their therapy and build their potential relationship. Though he was indeed her therapist, she felt comfortable with him. More comfortable than she had felt with anyone in a long time and if she were being honest, it scared her. She hated how vulnerable she was around him having been so guarded for most of her life, yet she liked that she could be her true self without fear of judgment and ridicule for her behavior. The benefits of having him as her therapist outweighed her fears. He got her on a level that no one else had before, not even Sky.

Excitedly, she met him in the air-conditioned shop finding him with ice cream in hand. On her approach, he rested his palm atop her head as if to say welcome.

"So now I'm a dog?"

"Nah, you just small. Have a seat, baby girl." She sat down beside him and began eating the cold sugary concoction of sweet cream, chocolately brownie chunks, crumbled graham crackers and walnuts all drizzled with thick caramel. She bounced happily in her seat as the divine mixture set her tastebuds ablaze. This was one of her all-time favorite combinations and she was glad he'd remembered it to the smallest detail. He smiled as he watched her smiling and bouncing in her element, happy that she was happy. She was eating so fast that she dripped ice cream onto her chin and brand new royal purple Disney spirit jersey. She pouted, but he merely grabbed a napkin and cleaned her mess.

"Why the long face, Buttercup? I thought a messy little girl was a happy little girl."

"Sky just bought this for me, though. I didn't want to get it dirty. There's even a stain on Mickey." She turned her body slightly to show him the smudged caramel on the sparkly D emblem.

"Well that won't do, will it? You're welcome to take it off. You wouldn't want to spill again."

"But I'm not wearing another shirt," she pouted further.

"Less material to worry about. You should enjoy your ice cream freely. Do remove the shirt, Buttercup.. for your own good." She nodded, slowly lifting the sweatshirt over her head and laying it on the table. He grabbed and folded it neatly before placing it on the booth beside him. Now free from the constraints of the jersey, she tore into her ice cream like a woman starved.

"Doesn't that feel better? Your sweater is now safe from any harm and Daddy will worry about having it cleaned. That's not something a little girl should concern herself with."

"Yes Daddy, thank you," she said with a wide grin. It had been so long since she had been allowed to freely be in her little space, especially to this degree and it was nice to put the stresses and worries of adulting to the side, even if it were just for a little while.

"Um... I'm sorry sir, but um.. shirts are required in this establishment... Sorry..," the gangly scooper spoke nervously, obviously intimidated by his stature though he was not in his imposing state. The anxiety in the guy's eyes rubbed him the wrong way. Another negative profile. If that was the case while he wore a sweater and a name brand watch, he thought, the man deserved to feel fearful.

"Several pale skinned patrons are wearing sports bras and cropped bandeau tops, similar to my date's. Are you going to say the same to them?" Erik asked with a raised eyebrow watching the guy stammer in distress.

"I- It's just- Nevermind," the scooper stumbled, making his way back behind the counter. He started to pick up a phone, but when Erik made eye contact and mouthed a message, he put the phone back down.

"What did you say just now," O'Shea inquired, looking from the counter back to Erik's peaceful expression. The behavior of the scooper didn't match his face.

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, Buttercup. Take your time. Finish your ice cream and we'll be on our way." O'Shea shrugged but continued to bounce happily as she ate her ice cream, even going as far as to ask Erik for another bowl for later. Because of the way he behaved earlier, he obliged.

"Whadya know, Buttercup! We got this one free."

"Yay!" she squealed, happily thanking the fearful scooper who nodded without eye contact.

"I-It was no trouble, really," he stuttered, eyes never leaving Erik's menacing scowl. As the couple turned to leave, Erik bucked at the young scooper, laughing loudly at the way he flinched, dropping a tower of ice cream all over himself.

"Damn, nigga. You need to lift weights or something," he smirked opening the glass door for O'Shea.

"Where do you wanna go now, Buttercup?" he asked as he brushed a rogue curl behind her ear.

"I wish it wasn't so late. I really wanna go to Disneyland." Erik checked his watch and noted that the park would indeed be closing soon.

"We can't get into the park, but Downtown Disney is still open."

"Ooh can we go to Salt & Straw?" she asked, bouncing on her toes.

"Buttercup you just had ice cream and got a free one to go. Not to mention you still have ice cream in the freezer from earlier."

"Yeah, but none of those were honey lavender with whipped cream and a waffle cone," she pouted.

'You're right, but considering the fact that I'm a doctor who also cares about your physical health, the answer is still no. You are sweet enough." She was upset but didn't protest further for fear that he'd just decide to take her back to her house. No matter how upset she was, Disney fixed everything. As the pair roamed the district, O'Shea's eyes grew wide watching Erik walk into to the Pandora shop. She'd been wanting new charms for her princess-themed bracelet forever, but never had the time or the extra funds to splurge on herself the way she wanted.

"How about I make my Buttercup something special?" he beamed down at her, rubbing circles into the small of her back.

"Oooh, what is it?" she asked happily.

"It's a surprise, but why don't you go get us two of those honey lavender cones and it'll be done by the time you get back."

"Ok!" she squealed happily, taking his card and running out of the store before he changed his mind again. It took her all of 10 minutes to go and come back with her half-eaten cone and his full one. Her grin was wide as she regarded Erik standing in front of the counter with both hands behind his back. His shit-eating grin was back like he knew he was that nigga. And at this moment, he was.

"Whatcha got back there, Daddy?"

"Just a little something for my second favorite princess," he replied stepping closer to her. "Close your eyes and hold out your left wrist." She quickly complied and her beaming grin grew even wider as she felt the cold metal against her skin.

"Alright, open." He watched smugly as her eyes opened and widened. Her heart was so full she thought it would burst. She hadn't even realized that he had slipped her princess bracelet off her wrist until she saw it in its complete form.

"You finished my bracelet?"

"Yes ma'am, chronologically just the way you had it and I started your villain one." Her fingers toyed delicately with the Tinkerbell and poisoned apple charms on the princess bracelet before moving to Maleficent and the Evil Queen charms on the villain bracelet. Then her eyes met his. She wanted to cry.

"Thank you so much, Daddy."

"Anything for my Buttercup. I even left off Anna and Elsa because I know those are the ones you like the least." Again, he'd remembered something seemingly frivolous solely because he knew it was important to her. She felt her little heart swell two sizes.

"You're the best, really." She rewarded him with a sweet kiss on the lips, which he deepened when he grabbed her chin and added a little tongue. Just enough to leave her wanting.

"Come on, pretty girl. Let's get you home, we both have work in the morning."

—————————————

TAG LIST: @vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @trevantesbrat @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @amethyst1993 @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @yaachtynoboat711 @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bartierbakarimobisson @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @beaut1fulone-blog @chefjessypooh @queengidiva619 @love-me22 @pending-lostheart @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket

#vanity writes #my shit #erik stevens #killmonger smut #daddy erik #killmonger fic #erik killmonger #bde #erik killmonger x black oc

168 notes · View notes