#some short term memory problems that could be either the ptsd or the fact that his brain has been chemically rewired twice now

[tearlessrain]

I need to compile a canon list somewhere of all the many Afflictions Khatte has acquired over the course of his career because I tend to just pull them out of my ass at random as I write and that’s going to come back to bite me someday

#things I know are Wrong With Him include on and off chronic muscular pain from getting electrocuted so much #additional sporadic pain from the spinal implants watcher x shoved into him that no longer work but are still just in there #which aren't always a problem but if he moves his tail wrong it can set it off #ptsd that mostly manifests in nightmares and really bad depressive episodes but rarely also flashbacks #some short term memory problems that could be either the ptsd or the fact that his brain has been chemically rewired twice now #but like he writes everything down anyway so it's mostly fine #pretty sure he's also prone to headaches/migraines #idk if 'paranoia and fear of emotional intimacy' goes on the list or is just a personality trait at this point #also minor stiffness in his right hip from a stupidity-induced injury acquired on one of his first missions #which I admit is an anticlimax #tearless vs swtor #he does have access to at least mitigate a lot of these but he's got this pride thing about how much pain he can tolerate #part of which is definitely an imperial thing #combined with an 'if I show weakness I'm making aliens as a collective look bad' thing #so he'll just sit there trying to tough it out unless someone's around to be like 'dude go see a fucking medic' #he's just an absolute mad max car of a person at this point but somehow he's still chugging along

[argentdandelion]

No Soul Necessary: Flowey’s Happy Ending (Part 2)

Introduction

As the previous part in the series noted, Flowey has many psychological problems, and getting a soul might not help. Yet, despite his soullessness, he can still have his happy ending.

For this, Flowey must do eight things: lose his power of SAVE (done), come to terms with his guilt and regret, stop hating himself, make meaningful relationships with others (even if they’re not very strong ones), fill his life with fun, novelty and piles of happy moments, and (on a more minor note) adjust to life as a soulless flower through spending time with humans like him, learn the perks of being a flower, and quality-of-life improvements like a flowerpot-wheelchair.

Guilt, Regret, and Self-Loathing

In some ways, Flowey resembles a person with antisocial personality disorder (ASPD, or sociopathy/psychopathy). Such people are often thought to not feel guilt or regret, and if they do, to not learn from it.

Yet, Flowey is different. He does feel regret or guilt. Most obviously, he feels guilty about “failing” Chara in the buttercup plan. One could argue this is just a memory of guilt when he was Asriel. However, that’s clearly not the case: in the Genocide Route, he also immediately regrets telling the genocidal human “Creatures like us...wouldn’t hesitate to KILL each other if we got in each others’ way”. In addition, in his True Reset speech, he says he doesn’t “think he can do it again”. Clearly, even when unable to feel love and compassion, he can feel some sense of regret or wrongdoing.

Even before his murderous Flowey Runs, Flowey had plenty of reasons to feel guilt. Firstly, his actions in the buttercup plan got both Chara and himself killed. Not only that, but, after the deaths of his children, Asgore declared war on humanity, causing Toriel to leave him. While Asriel/Flowey is only indirectly to blame, he likely felt very guilty when learning what had happened since his death.

Furthermore, Flowey’s guilt for murdering everyone in the Underground countless times (including Frisk), could lead to the Dobby effect, where inextinguishable guilt leads to excessive self-punishment. Reflecting on his actions might even lead to self-loathing: either for who he is (someone who's callously treated the whole Underground as his plaything) or what he is (a soulless, nigh-necromantic flower-abomination).

However, Flowey feeling guilt, regret, and self-loathing would both hinder and help his recovery.

On one hand, guilt and regret creates consequences for his actions. These consequences could be a workaround to his inability to feel love and compassion, and could help him stay out of trouble and keep more-or-less fulfilling relationships. A sense of self-loathing, too, might motivate him to become a better person, so he doesn’t hate himself.

On the other hand, Flowey might, out of guilt or self-loathing, choose to stay in the Underground, as a sort of prison sentence.1 He might also wallow in self-loathing to the point of gaining (or worsening) his depression. However, these forms of self-punishment won’t help him get better; he must confront his regret and guilt.

While he does just that (as Asriel) in the full flowerbed speech of the Pacifist epilogue, in some works, this meeting doesn’t happen. In fact, regaining a soul and love and compassion would just make things worse: his guilt would surely increase, thus making his mental health plummet.

Relationships with Others, and His Lack of Love, Compassion and Empathy

Losing his power of SAVE takes away its corrupting, mental-health eroding influence on him. Without it, he might be able to reconnect with others. After all, since he could memorize responses, people became predictable. His reducing people to sets of numbers and lines of dialogue worsened his problem. Without that power, people on the Surface cannot become predictable.

Furthermore, he can't undo any of his social mistakes: he must be more careful to start, keep, and strengthen relationships with others, even if they're weak due to his soullessness. He could learn to behave himself through self-interest: with permanent consequences, he can’t afford to snap and kill someone.

Though Flowey cannot really feel love and compassion, if his condition is anything like sociopathy, he could surely imitate signs of it, to some extent. Again supposing his condition is like sociopathy, he could be capable of cognitive empathy: a largely conscious drive to understand another’s perspective or mental state. It’s synonymous with perspective-taking, and it should allow him to act in the right ways to achieve wanted outcomes, and avoid bad ones. If he did perspective-taking and risk-balancing quickly and habitually, few could tell the difference.

It’s very likely Flowey is lonely. Though Flowey cannot really love anyone, he nonetheless longs for someone like him, someone unpredictable he’ll “never get bored of”, someone “like him”. He wants someone he’ll care about, even if he can’t really care about them. Even if he cares more about others as resources than people, if he only wants understanding and affinity, rather than actual love, it’s achievable.

Frisk could easily fulfill Flowey’s needs. Frisk is certainly unpredictable: Flowey expects, and wants, Frisk to finish him off after the Omega Flowey fight. Yet, Frisk does not: Frisk’s incomprehensible mercy baffles and scares Flowey.

While Frisk would likely be Flowey’s strongest relationship, it’s possible he could find new joys in the monsters whose responses he memorized as they adjusted to life on the Surface. Papyrus is one possibility: in a Neutral end dialogue, Flowey himself says it took a long time to “get bored of him.” It’s possible for Papyrus to become monsters’ ambassador, rather than Frisk. Seeing Papyrus adapt to the difficulties of human-monster politics could be exciting for Flowey.

There's also humans: a novel experience for Flowey. Asriel himself says, “There are a lot of Floweys on the Surface”. Though he surely meant to warn that life on the Surface wasn't perfect, it's true some humans feel little to no love and compassion and are still law-abiding. It's very likely Flowey can find people just like him on the Surface. He could join a group of PTSD sufferers, who have gone emotionally numb from trauma, or socialize with humans with ASPD, who naturally don't feel empathy.

Despair

Flowey killed himself not only because he didn't "want to live in a world without love", but also because he didn't want to live in a world without Chara. If not love, Flowey needs something to live for. In short, to stave off his despair, he needs purpose, meaning, and friends.

Flowey is unique for his immense knowledge of the Underground and all its people. By exhausting every possibility, he likely learned how every monster would react in any situation. This would be handy in human-monster politics, especially if his knowledge even partially applies to humans. Flowey could, as a sort of penance, find purpose in ensuring everyone is happy on the Surface, and advise whoever is the ambassador. After all, politics is so much more complicated than flirting and joking, and if Frisk is the ambassador, they're just a kid.

If he sentences himself Underground, Flowey’s despair will never lift. A few works mention recovering from trauma through happy little moments piling up; with his days on the Surface filled with fun and meaningful activities, Flowey might eventually get better.

In both the Pacifist and Genocide Route, Flowey says he’s tired of being a flower. While he might be conflating soullessness with having a flower body, and assuming getting a Boss Monster body would make him psychologically revert to "Asriel", it's possible having a flower body in itself makes him unhappy. For one thing, he can’t manipulate objects like he used to; he doesn’t even have hands. His mobility is also limited and strange as a flower; he probably can’t climb stairs, nor ride elevators.

Though most Post-Pacifist works show Flowey in a flower pot, this would probably make his condition worse. One work has Flowey move in a big flower pot with robotic arms (with hands) and legs; another fan improves upon the flowerpot trope with a dirt-filled wheelbarrow.

Related Reading

Flowey and PTSD

Kill 'em with Kindness (actually spun off from this section)

Incidentally, the author of this article has a Patreon.

The author shall dodge whether Flowey deserves at least a life sentence in favor of how to give him a happy life (that is, SAVE him). ↩︎

#Undertale #Undertale Analysis #Undertale Meta #Flowey #Flowey the Flower #Asriel #Undertale Character Analysis #No Soul Necessary: Flowey's Happy Ending

[ravenfirelair]

Tronos madu character analysis

In the essay we are going to discuss the character tronos, his characters design, his personality and psychology, at least what the tv show revealed to us about him. First up is his character design, I think his character design I very unique and very outside of the box in term of thinking what an alien should look like, he looks more like an monster you would see out of some B movie. He is obviously based off reptilian animals in nature by his appearance and the way he walk on all fours and how he can quickly crawl along the ceiling and walls just like a lizard can. I like the fact he can walk both on two and four legs giving both an humanoid and animalistic appearance in nature and able him to be more versatile in his movement, like able to hold, grab, push and pull things like any human can, but still able to walk, crawl and run like a predatory animal. One thing I did notice that his neck varies in length throughout the whole episodes his is in, sometimes his neck is short and sometimes it seems rather long, which suggests he can squash or stretch his neck out like a turtle which suggests he as a very flexible spine in his neck that has vertebrae that is not fused together like a normal spine, but is mostly held together by ligaments and muscle tissue. His arms are a lot thicker and longer then his legs meaning he relies a lot on his upper body strength. His face is heavily scared and slightly discolored around his eyes, nose and part of his forehead, suggesting either he took a hard blast to the face or it’s just wear from wearing his helmet for long periods of time. Also his heavily scared face would suggest he got into a fight when his helmet was off at some point.    

Now on to the most dominate thing about his character design which his is armor, obviously it was made for battle as it protects the most valuable parts on his body, being his chest, abdomen, neck and his face. I really like the aesthetic design of his helmet-mask and not just because it makes him look like he has horns like a freaking dragon, but also because it reminds me of Japanese samurai armor.

Samurai in battle would often wear face masks and huge helmets with crests that looked like horns to appear more intimidating to the enemy and that is what I think tronos’s armor main purpose is for, not just to protect himself, but to appear more intimidating to his opponents, because frankly he doesn’t look all that intimidating without his helmet on. Which inturn makes me think maybe not every voltarian wore armor and only a select few that earned it through battles could wear armor, which further makes me think maybe tronos held some kind of rank or status among the society of his people before his planet was destroyed.  

Also I noticed the armor covering his neck is able to compress and stretch along with his neck which suggests it is held together be some kind of flexible material that can conform to his body with whatever shape it takes. Then obviously from what can see how damaged, scratched and scuffed up his armor is that he has been through a war. Not too sure what the light  plate on his chest is  meant for, but I can guess it has multiple purposes, the first obviously being the main power source for his armor, but it can also seemed to be used as a way to regulate and control the electricity running through his body. It also can be seen as a way to bring up holograms on the small devices he uses by pressing on the center of it. Not really sure what the blue light spikes a long his neck are meant for either, they could just be for show and aesthetic purposes.    

Now on to his main weapon which is his ability to control, manipulate and shoot out electricity and able to shoot out sonic sound. He is an electrothermal life form meaning he can produce electricity from his own body heat, but it appears that he also gain power by absorbing the electricity around him. He can deform and reform is body at will from pure electrical energy or an electric current, in doing so he can travel at the speed of light. He is able to shrink his body small enough to travel through the power lines and can travel through the electric current of lightning as well. It is given that since he can produce electricity from his own body heat his electric power seems endless, but he can succumb to exhaustion if he uses his power too much. It also makes me think he doesn’t use it enough he body would over heat and has to expel some of his electrical energy in order to maintain his body heat and would explain why he uses his electric power constantly.  

Now for his personality, obviously he is very vengeful and can hold on to a grudge for a long time given he wanted to get revenge on the akiridions for abandoning his race of people during the war when they needed help the most and takes his vengeance out on the royal children given he wanted to kill the royal king and queen instead. Obviously, revenge is a huge motivator from him, he spends his whole time trying to kill the royal children and willing to make alliances with his enemies to reach his goal. Also could have been the only thing that kept him going for so many years until he was able to reach the royal family.  He is very persistent and stubborn for how much set in his way of thinking he is, but can also easily be persuaded by negotiating as long he gets something out of it. Despite his stubbornness he was willing to change his mind for the better when Aja convinced him to help krel with his giant laser gun to destroy an asteroid to save earth. But he can also be greedy and selfish at times, like when he was at the bounty hunter outpost sitting among the other bounty hunters he seemed friendly towards them, but the minute one of the royal children is revealed and he is informed they have a huge bounty placed upon them, he doesn’t hesitant to backstab the other bounty hunters just to claim the bounty reward all for himself.  

Now on to his psychological state and oh boy, this is a heavy one. He is pretty much a war victim with PTSD, it is unclear how much PTSD he has, but I can imagine it is severe given he lived through a war and watched almost his entire alien race and planet being destroyed. Typically someone who has PTSD either lashes out in anger or spirals down into a state of depression; obviously Tronos has chosen the latter. Even though the war is over, he can’t stop his urge to kill things and has no problem inflecting pain on others, so he resided to a life of a bounty hunter to at least give himself a reason to kill and still give purpose and meaning to his life. Since therapy isn’t an option for him, the only way he knows how to deal with his trauma is to lash out in anger and violence. Even though he seems he can hide his pain and grief well, it does still affect him, like when Aja shows Tronos a hologram of his destroyed planet and tells him she knows everything about what happened to his planet, he lashes out at her in anger. Meaning that this traumatic event still hurts him to this present day even though it happened several years ago. Him seeing his destroyed planet again could have been a trigger that brought back painful memories.

It is unclear how much depression he deals with, but no doubt he probably does experience it, but tries to best hide it from others. It is also unclear if he has restless sleep and has nightmares during his sleep, but he most likely does, we just don’t see that part of him. Also he probably feels some form of shame and guilt from being part of an army that was supposed to protect his people, but ended in disastrous failure.  

so there are my thoughts on tronos madu, a complex villain character that certainly deserved more screen time and a better ending to his story, but never got it.  

#3below #3below tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia #tronos #tronos madu #charactertudy characteranalysis longessay dreamworks animation i'm probably going to really annoy me with this long post

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 3: I’ll Do Better

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: I think I’m just gonna stop putting swearing as a warning? Cause it’s in literally every single chapter Lmao, Arguments, a moment with PTSD and anxiety

Word Count: 8,739

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “What’s got your panties in a twist this time?” Tina teases with her signature smirk as Gavin sits down next to her at their table.

    “Fuck off, Tina.” Gavin shakes his head, knowing that his words don’t have the venom they would if he were to say them to anyone else.

    “Aw, come on! You look even more bothered than usual and you’re not gonna tell me what happened?” The woman doesn’t give enough time for him to reply before continuing again. “I have ten bucks in my pocket that says it has to do with the new trainees roaming around.”

    “That and Hank fuckin’ Anderson.” He begins around the food in his mouth, “Didn’t even know he could be awake at this hour anymore, let alone be sober enough to pull the ‘my old partner’s the current marshal’ card. I mean, he didn’t use it on me, but I heard him use it on one of the new fuckers.”

    “One of the trainees? What’d they do?”

    “For once in my life I was just mindin’ my own fuckin’ business, when two newbies come around the corner. Of course, I’m just trying to get to lunch, right? So I plan on just walking around them, but this kid fuckin’ tries to shoulder-check me! And when I didn’t budge he started acting like I started it!”

    “So you picked a proper fight?” Tina’s turned towards him now, engrossed in Gavin’s story.

    “No! Like I said, I just wanted some fuckin’ food! So I threatened the guy a bit and... gave a warning, you could say. I could immediately tell he had an ego larger than my ass, so I couldn’t just let him walk away, ya know?.”

    Another woman’s voice pipes up, “Wait, you said there were two trainees. What about the other one?” Gavin doesn’t know when she got here, but now she’s sitting across from Tina.

    “It was the same dude I saw daydreaming in the hall yesterday, and he kept trying to get the other dude to just walk away like the fuckin’ coward he is. He even got the shit beat outta him sometime after dinner yesterday. He was all bandaged up and limping a bit. Anderson rounded the corner before I could even start with him.”

    “And you said he was awake, walking around, and sober earlier? Wow.” Tina leans back in her chair. “I’m impressed. That’s the second time this month he’s been sober and calm so early in the day.”

    “You think he’s finally coming to terms with whatever happened to him?” Tina’s official partner– Angie? Allie? Amy? Who fuckin’ knows and who fuckin’ cares– asks, sounding genuinely hopeful for the washed up drunkard.

    Gavin barks out a harsh laugh, “Nah, there’s no way. His hangover probably just woke him up earlier than normal.”

    “What exactly do you have against him, Gav?” the same lady asks.

    “What do you mean ‘what do I have against him’? He’s done nothing but sit around on his ass drunk as hell for the past couple of years and no one’s done anything about it because he’s the ‘oh so great Pilot Anderson’ and his fuckin’ bff is the one in charge of this shit hole!” Gavin leans back in his chair with crossed arms, his food already scarfed down and tray empty. “If any of us acted the way he has been for even a month we’d be kicked out of here before we could even pack our stuff! Besides, isn’t he too fuckin’ old to pilot anymore anyway? Why in the hell is he even still here?”

    “He’s only barely in his forties you know,” Tina informs patiently, having heard this rant a hundred times over by now, “He started going grey in his early twenties, something about genetics. Can’t imagine the stress and grief helped at all, either.”

    “Grief. What could have possibly happened to make him ‘grieve’ for this long? Like, don’t get me wrong, I get it, but it’s been fuckin’ years of this shit. He needs to get it together, ‘cause at this point he’s just dragging us down.”

    Gavin lowers his head and averts his eyes, enviously thinking about how he wasn’t ever given the kind of treatment Anderson is given on a daily basis. His face must start looking softer because Tina looks at him with a sort of concern and confusion. He scowls at her and shakes his head with a huff in dismissal.

    All throughout training, each pilot is taught that no one can hold back any memories from their partner while in the drift. While that fact was usually used to keep trainees in line since everything they do will be seen by another person eventually, it was true. Mostly. After certain things took place long ago, Gavin accidentally stumbled upon a way to keep memories from whoever was his partner. From the complaints he’s heard in the past, it’s just as uncomfortable for them as it is for him, if not more so. So far, only Tina and her new partner have been able to put up with it more than twice..

    The whole point is, no one here truly knows his story. The people who did have either retired, or they were killed in action, or their name is Jeffery Fowler. No one knows what kind of life he had growing up, if he has siblings or not, how long he trained to be a pilot before arriving here; and nobody knows if Gavin’s “pissy, jackass attitude” is a result of something or if that’s just who he is.

    Spoiler alert: it’s just how he’s fuckin’ been his entire damn life, and he has no intentions to change any time soon. Even if Gavin wanted to, he doesn’t think he could actually change enough for it to matter, anyway. So fuck it.

    “You don’t know what happened!” Tina’s partner sounds thoroughly offended on Anderson’s behalf. She must be newer or more empathetic than he thought. “They said this started right after a particularly big battle with a kaiju, he probably lost family or something!”

    “I lost my family and my home when I was 17, and no one’s ever seen me moping around, constantly high as fuck and unable to do my job! ‘Cause heaven knows I wouldn’t get drunk of all things to forget my problems, I still have some self-respect.”

    He must have said something wrong because the looks on both women’s faces make him feel like he’s the main attraction of a pity party. He scowls again and is about to snarl out “what?” when Tina finally speaks, albeit softly, as if he, Gavin Reed, a man tougher and more stubborn than the most overcooked jerky, would break.

    “You were only 17 when..?”

    And just like that, it clicks.

    “No, you fucks!” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, “I was kicked out by my bitch-ass mother. They haven’t died or anything like that. At least, I don’t think they have…”

    Both women relax, Tina already going back to her almost finished meal as if nothing happened, knowing full well that they weren’t going to get anything else out of Gavin for the rest of the week. However, her partner seems a bit more adamant on knowing the story, if the look in her eye is anything to go by. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, Gavin abruptly stands up. It’s time to get the hell outta dodge.

    “Well, as much as I’d like to say it was a pleasure talking to you asshats, I can’t.” Tina’s smirk is enough to let Gavin know that she knows he’s just messing around now. “Don’t have a sucky ass day, I guess. Or do, I’m not your fuckin’ parent.” He promptly turns with his empty tray in hand and leaves the food court area after putting everything in their designated places.

    Whenever Gavin gets worked up, going to the gym usually helps. Growing up, the only way he learned to deal with his short temper was to let it out through physical exertion. When he was younger, that meant getting into fights and punching walls until he felt calm and safer to be around again. Now, though, it means going to the gym and showing anyone else who may be in there how it’s done. Not only does he feel better about himself– contrary to popular belief, punching the nearest person or thing had never done well for his conscience after all was said and done– he also gets some of the best scores in fighting skill from his admittedly excessive training. To be completely honest, those high scores are probably the only thing keeping him here at this point.

    Gavin takes his sweet, precious time getting to the gym. He meanders through the endless, reinforced halls until he gets to his room. They placed him right across from Tina’s room since she’s the only one who can tolerate him and is the only one Gavin doesn’t regularly want to deck in the throat. Even though she has an official partner now, that girl’s still relatively new and Tina is a better match in the drift for Gavin than anyone else is. Now that he thinks about it, he may not be able to slack off like Anderson, but he can admit that the higher-ups of this place have done a lot more to keep him here than they likely would have for anyone else. Not even he had to do “intern work” for Fowler during his first week of training, and it’s that one assbag’s second day here and he’s already managed to fuck it up.

    He changes into his work out clothes quickly and grabs the wraps for his hands. He puts them on expertly on the way, having gone through the wrapping process much more often than anyone he knows has. Gavin’s about to turn into the gym when he hears the voice of that daydreaming coward coming from around the corner.

    “Connor, would you stop your whining. Do you want what happened today in class to happen again?”

    Gavin quickly backtracks to hide behind one of the support beams on the wall. He wants to know what happened during their class, because he has a feeling it has to do with how fucked up the guy was this morning.

    “No I don’t,” the same voice replies? Is he talking to himself? Is this another case of Fight Club? “But we just got told to lie down and relax today since our hands are too bruised to hold pens. I don’t think it’s wise to go in there in case–”

    “–In case we’re found here while this injured, I know.” Well, it’s definitely not the same person, since there were clearly two voices talking over each other just then. “You’ve said that only a million times now. We’re allowed to be in here, we just won’t be using the equipment.”

    Gavin takes a chance to lean his head out and look at whoever is talking. He immediately recognises daydreamer on the left by the light grey shirt he’s wearing, which means his identical twin is wearing the black shirt. The doppelganger– apparently named Connor– looks slightly worse off than his twin.

    These pilot wannabes just got here recently, right? So they must have been paired up for the initial evaluation and roughed each other up good. Maybe the twink-looking asshole isn’t a coward at all. Maybe the dude is just confident that he could win in a fight against Gavin. Although, that doesn’t explain why he was so certain that Gavin could win against that other fucker– was it Alex?– in a brawl just earlier. Maybe it’s more of an “You can’t beat me, but you can win against him” kinda deal.

    Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum both enter the gym, still continuing on with their conversation about morals and finding loopholes within rules and orders, and Gavin takes that as his cue to follow them inside.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “I still think we shouldn’t hold back around the instructors. They’re here to evaluate us, right?” Connor asks, still very much concerned about hiding things from the people who are above them in rank.

    It’s just that, what if they get caught holding back and are punished for it? Connor doesn’t even want to think about the times that had happened while training with Amanda, let alone repeat it. He knows logically that Luther wouldn’t dream of doing something like that to his students, but the inconvenient part of Connor’s head is not letting him actually believe it. It’s better to expect the worst and get better results than assume decent results and get blindsided.

    “Yes, but if we don’t hold back, then they’ll probably make us graduate much earlier, which means less time to find new partners.” Ritch hisses at him.

    Connor just sighs, knowing he’s right but not liking to go behind instructors’ backs, even for something as important to them as this. Ritch likely knows what kind of war is going on in his head right now, which is probably why he’s being much more patient with him than usual today.

    “I know you don’t like this, but it’s necessary.”

    “I know. You’re right, as always.” Connor relents finally, sitting down in the far corner of the gym where it will be obvious that they’re just sitting there, watching everyone else train and work out. They need to get a feel for how much they should be holding back for now, and how fast they should progress throughout training.

    A few minutes pass of silently watching a man on a treadmill, another at a punching bag, and a woman lifting weights before Connor leans over to speak into Ritch’s ear.

    “Are we going to match their skill? Or are we going to try going weaker than them?”

    “After the show we put on earlier, I don’t think we can pull off playing as much weaker or less skilled than these people without the others becoming suspicious.” he answers immediately, eyes never leaving the tiring man on the treadmill.

    Connor nods silently, leaning back into his own space again. It isn’t long until Ritch is leaning over to whisper in his ear, this time.

    “Do you see the guy at the punching bag?”

    “Yes?” Connor confirms, watching the man go to town on the hanging bag.

    His technique is very good, and he has a lot of power behind each punch. It’s obvious that he’s tougher and stronger than he looks, not unlike Ritch and himself. Connor wonders if Ritch is going to suggest matching with him. It wouldn’t be a good idea at all, seeing as how he seems to be at almost the same level as them. Plus, judging by the scars littered around his face and arms, he has real experience in combat, which gives him a leg up on the other trainees.

    Actually… That might be Pilot–

    “That’s Gavin Reed.” Ritch unknowingly confirms his thought. “He’s trouble, so just try your best to avoid and ignore him. I’ve already run into him twice and both times he’s tried to pick a fight with me.”

    That wasn’t what Connor was expecting. He knew the rumors of Gavin Reed being testy and short-tempered, but he’s picking fights with Ritch of all people so soon after their arrival?

    “Really? It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet.”

    “Yea. The first time he shoulder checked me while I was walking on the correct half of the hallway while he was going the opposite way, and the second time happened just before lunch. Apparently Alex bumped into him but he–” he nods to Gavin “–was adamant on finishing what was started. Mr. Anderson had to come and diffuse the situation.”

    Connor turns to face Ritch. “Mr. Anderson was there?”

    “Yes.”

    “Did he seem okay? He seemed to have a terrible hangover this morning at lunch, and I’m sure any yelling that was happening wasn’t helping.”

    Now Ritch turns to him. “Why do you care? He hasn’t been in a jaeger in years. Unless you became much more attached to who he once was than I thought.”

    Connor huffs out what could be considered a growl and turns back to Gavin, “Can’t a guy just care about someone else’s health?”

    “Not you.” Ritch follows Connor’s gaze, “When you care about someone’s health, it’s one of the first signs that you’re getting attached to someone, and I really don’t believe that Mr. Anderson is someone you should be getting attached to.”

    “Why do you think that?” Immediately defensive.

    “People talk, and he isn’t–.”

    “Just like how they used to talk about us?”

    “This is different than us.”

    “How so?”

    Ritch sharply turns back to his twin, irritation causing his eyebrows to set even lower and his mouth to thin. “Look, I don’t give a damn about who you imprint on or whatever anymore. I am trying to help you out here, because unlike the times people have talked about us, what people are saying about Mr. Anderson are all factual and we’ve both seen the proof. You need to lay off of him because not everyone feels the incessant need to not be alone.”

    Connor finally allows himself to snap back. “Maybe you’re wrong this time. Yes, he drinks and he’s a miserable human being who doesn’t like other people, but how do we know that just who he is? What if he’s just like how we were way back in the orphanage, where everyone treated us like glass or ruined goods all the time? What if he wants– needs someone to be fuckin’ normal around him for a change to bring him out of his pit, and no one is there?”

    “If he wanted someone, he would have found someone. He had plenty of friends before he started this!” Ritch raises his voice from a whisper, and Connor can already tell that this isn’t going to end well, especially since he isn’t willing to roll over and surrender this time.

    “We had plenty of friends too, but they just didn’t understand once they found out, huh? They ended up just making things worse until all we had was each other. And there’s the thing! We still had one other person who understood! We had each other! And we’ve never remembered whatever trauma we’ve been through! He remembers it probably like it was yesterday and he is completely alone!”

    “This isn’t a fairy tale, Connor! This is real life, and in real life you can’t just swoop in and save the depressed, rumored suicidal alcoholic through the magical power of friendship!”

    “I don’t plan on saving anyone!” Connor shouts. The entire room becomes silent all of a sudden. He takes that moment to take a breath and continue at a normal speaking volume, “This is what you and everyone else don’t understand. I don’t want to save or fix people! I just want them to realize that there’s still hope for a somewhat normal life after their entire world shifted on its axis!” Connor takes another breath, recognizing that the three people in the room are no longer hiding the fact that they’re listening to him.

    “I know I’ve said before that people can’t ‘fix’ or ‘save’ other people. They can only ever offer hope and a sense of normality among the chaos and hope that person finds enough of their own strength to fix themselves. And go ahead and make fun of me for being ‘naive’ or whatever you want. This is what I’ve always thought and this is the one thing I will not let anyone change about me. Now, I’m going to go take a nap. Enjoy your people watching.”

    With that, Connor calmly makes his way across the gym area, a contradiction to the anger showing on his face and burning in his chest. He needs to calm down, and the best way to do that is to curl up in a calm, quiet place. He nods a silent greeting to the supposed troublemaker, Gavin Reed, on his way towards the door. Mostly to spite Ritch, but also because the guy had a really good form and the strength to back it up, and that deserves some kind of acknowledgement in Connor’s opinion.

     Connor vaguely hears his name being called by Ritch as he steps out of the gym area, and normally that would be enough to make him pause, which then gives him think over the argument. Nine times out of ten, during this process of thinking things over, his brain somehow convinces himself that the entire fight was his fault and the person won’t ever forgive him. This time, though, he doesn’t pause. He doesn’t give his messed up head a chance to twist things on him. Connor knows he’s right this time, and he’s not going to allow himself to bow down to Ritch about this topic. In this case, bowing down to Ritch would be the equivalent of bowing down to Amanda, and she isn’t here to control him anymore.

    No matter how far Connor was pushed during training as punishments, he never let her think she brainwashed that part of him, and she had not gone easy on him whatsoever.

    Call him naive, childish, innocent, too optimistic, whatever. He’s heard all of that and much more and much worse from countless people. He likes to give people the benefit of the doubt, he likes giving people second and sometimes third chances (but only if they truly deserve it, and never a fourth). He likes to think that most people in the world don’t mean to do harm, and if they do they have a reason behind it. This way of thinking is the only thing that keeps him going some days, and on the days he’d temporarily forgotten how to maintain that mindset were the days that not even threats and cruel promises from Amanda could get him out of his bed. Mr. Anderson may have been able to get away with staying in bed most days, but that’s because he was once a decorated jaeger pilot. Connor is barely an official trainee, he can’t afford any more missed time.

    “Connor!”

    The familiar, gruff voice snaps him out of his thoughts. It doesn’t sound like that’s the first time he’s tried calling Connor, either.

    “I apologise Mr. Anderson,” He starts with, turning on his heel quickly to not keep the older man waiting for his full attention a moment longer, “I was a bit lost in my head there for a few moments. I won’t let it happen again.”

    Mr. Anderson makes a face that falls between scowling and confusion, “Must’ve been deeper in there than you thought ‘cause this ain’t close to any place you’d be needed.”

    Looking around, he’s right. Connor doesn’t recognise these walls at all. There are different pipes and the floors are a slightly different texture than the rougher, more worn down metal or concrete of the other places he’s seen. He’s definitely in a bunker area, though, just not anywhere he’s been before, which means he’s probably in the area meant for more experienced pilots. Their bunkers are placed closest to the jaeger loading docks for faster take off. Connor must have taken a wrong turn at some point, still not completely used to this place’s layout.

    It was probably for the best, though, since the first place Ritch would surely check for him is their room (especially since he claimed that he was going to take a nap), and he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in the gym nor a chance to apologize to his brother for the sake of ending the fight. Both options are equally possible at this moment, so plan “get back to the dorm to calm down in the quiet” changes to plan “avoid Ritch while finding a good place to calm down in”.

    “Fucks sake, Connor!” Mr. Anderson calls again, once more sounding like that wasn’t the first thing he’s said to the younger man since he had zoned out.

    Connor immediately tenses, not liking when people start raising their voices at him, and snaps out of his thoughts again. Here he is, causing problems and inconveniences for people again, just like the fuck up he’s been lately. He needs to find a calm, peaceful place to relax sooner rather than later; he can’t be in public any longer like this.

    “I’m sorry,” Connor takes a step back, then another, all while curling into himself, “I must have taken a wrong turn, I apologize for taking up your time,” He takes a few more steps back, not lifting his gaze from the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave now. Sorry again–” Connor finishes weakly and darts out of the area, giving Mr. Anderson no chance to say anything to him.

    He tries to force his head to stay in the real world so he can actually register where is and find out where he’s going, but it’s slowly getting more difficult. He speed walks through the huge jaeger storage room, easily dodging all of the busy people moving about and doing their jobs. After a particular quick change in direction to avoid the woman with her nose in her clipboard, Connor is painfully aware that his leg is still throbbing from this morning, despite the painkillers he was given.

    At the reminder of the training room, he quickly finds a safe spot to stand in then checks the time. He hadn’t realised how much time has passed since lunch, and he isn’t sure how long of the past hour and a half was spent in the gym people watching and how much of it was spent wandering around aimlessly. He supposes it doesn’t matter at the moment. What does matter is that the training room should be empty by now, since everyone should be taking the written part of the exam so they can get a break from the physical exertion.

     Connor eventually makes it to the vacant room successfully. No one else tried to stop him or talk to him. No one else seemed to take any particular note of him at all. There was no sign of Mr. Anderson, Gavin Reed, or Ritch that he’d been able to find. He should be safe here.

    The first thing he does when he enters the room is find the best spot to spend over an hour in. He decides to camp in the left corner of the room, leaning against the wall the doorway he entered from is on. A minute or so of sitting and bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers pass before Connor decides to do some stretching. Yoga has always been his guilty pleasure and one of the few things that calmed him down completely. Besides, Amanda never complained about him being more flexible during fights. She said it complimented Ritch’s more solid technique.

    Why does every little thing bounce back to her? Stop that. She’s gone now, so stop thinking about her. Stop thinking…

    He isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knows he’s been in the Child’s Pose for a fair amount of time, if the pin pricks in his calves and feet and the ache rising in his knees and lower back have anything to say about that. With a quiet grunt, he rolls onto his back and straightens out his body, trying to stretch out all of the aching joints and muscles. Connor doesn’t think it would be as bad if it was his entire body that ached, because then it would be easier to ignore it and move on.

    “Oh shit. Connor, what are you doing in here?” North asks, making Connor jump.

    Connor should have realized that he wasn’t alone in the room. With how tired he was, and still is, there’s no way he would have woken up on his own while the sun was still up.

    Connor notes the random sounds of concern and confusion and the footsteps growing closer to him. He decides to go with sarcasm and humor, rather than the blunt truth. He’s already caused enough inconveniences today, and he knows this group well enough to know that they won’t somehow be offended by it.

    “Oh, you know. Just doing yoga. I don’t recommend falling asleep in the middle of a pose though…” Connor fails to cover a groan as he sits up. His legs have gotten a bit better, but his back and ankles certainly haven’t yet. “Yea, definitely not the best position to fall asleep in.”

    Markus offers a hand to lift him up to his feet, and Connor gladly takes it. “Why are you doing yoga in here of all places? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

    “I didn’t even know you did yoga,” Josh jumps in.

    Connor elects to ignore Markus’ question for the time being, “It’s always been a guilty pleasure of mine, and once my… Once the person who was taking care of me and Ritch figured out I was doing yoga in my spare time instead of doing extra studying, she didn’t actively try to stop me.” He starts leaning and twisting his torso in different directions to try to stretch his back, grimacing at how it pulls at some of the bandages and injuries on his torso. “She actually said that my flexibility and fluidity in fights complimented Ritch’s more rigid and solid form.”

    “Jesus,” Simon breathes out, “The way you and Ritch describe– Amanda was it?” Connor nods, “Makes it seem like she wasn’t your stepmother at all.”

    One would think that Connor would learn to think before replying.

    “That’s because she really wasn’t.” He finally straightens up for good, his back better, now. “I think she only adopted us because we said we wanted to become jaeger pilots when we grew up. Well, I did, anyway.” Connor adds that last part softly, massaging his left palm with his right thumb.

    “Wait,” Josh blurts, “You said her name was Amanda?”

    “Yes?” Why does Josh look like he’s found the missing last piece to a 500 part jigsaw puzzle?

    “Amanda, as in, Amanda Stern? Do you share her last name?”

    Seeing how everyone’s eyes light up confuses Connor even more. He’s definitely missing something here.

    “Yes? Have you met her before or know somebody else who has?”

    “Have we met her!?” North suddenly exclaims, “Are you kidding me!? Only a small group of people have met her, everyone else just knows of her and her work! She’s a fucking legend among the jaeger pilot and special forces trainers! She always trains the best fighters! No wonder you two are so far out of our league! Especially if you’ve been in her care for so long!”

    “I didn’t realise she was popular.”

    “She’s more than just popular. She’s downright famous within the jaeger and military community.” Simon corrects.

    “I’m actually shocked you didn’t know. Did you never question what those gatherings were, as you and Ritch call them?” Josh asks.

    “Uh, no? Asking particularly dumb questions usually meant more work the next day for us, so neither of us wanted to ask. We just knew that wealthy people came over for conversation and drinks and we had to stay out of the way unless sought out and spoken to.”

    Markus seems to snap out of his silent contemplation then. “More work for asking dumb questions. A life wearing nothing but uniforms and sleepwear, little to no toys and electronics growing up despite her having the funds for more than enough. That mixed with how you guys are pretty much soldiers already and claim to have learned most of it on your own… She does not sound like someone who deserves the high praise she gets. It all sounds questionable at best.”

    “I mean… I guess? But she was only trying to get us used to following orders and stuff so we wouldn’t get in trouble here.” Right? “I don’t think she wasn’t a bad person? She just liked having things a certain way and was very determined to get it that way. We just weren’t good enough pilots for her in the beginning, is all. She was very nice and pleasant to us when we did something right, and always was to other people, too.”

    Whatever Markus is thinking, Simon catches on too. Maybe they have the telepathy thing that Connor and Ritch have, too. “Were you and Ritch holding back this morning?”

    Connor doesn’t know where this is going, but he doesn’t like it.

    “What do you mean? We were told to go all out so we could be evaluated properly.”

    “That’s what you were told to do,” Markus puts a kind hand on his shoulder. It’s oddly and undeniably comforting. “But did you actually?”

    “No. We held back.” Ritch’s voice says from the doorway, having just popped in, “We had to be at least a little more gentle than usual because we were on those thin mats, and not mud or thicker foam like we’re used to. But after seeing everyone else’s skill levels this morning, we decided it would be best to blend in and hold back more.”

    “What happened to keeping that hidden? What if Luther and Chloe find out?” Connor steps towards his brother, causing Markus’ hand to fall from his shoulder.

    “I see no reason to hide that from this group in particular.” Ritch remains as stoic and unbothered as always. “They’ve proven themselves to be trustworthy, and at least two of them had already figured it out. It’d be more effort to try to continue hiding it from them.” Connor goes to retort, but Ritch continues, “Why are you getting upset? I thought you wanted to come clean?”

    Connor has to curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw to keep the angered words and growls from leaving his mouth. It doesn’t help in the slightest that he never got to properly calm down from the fight earlier. He just fell asleep on the floor.

    “What brings you here, Ritch?” he asks calmly, instead.

    He rolls his eyes– a thing he would have gotten smacked for if they were still under Amanda’s roof, Connor’s brain supplies. “Well, you kind of stormed out earlier.”

    “That generally means that person doesn’t want to be in the other’s presence anymore.”

    “Oh would you stop being a child for two seconds and come with me to eat dinner. You need to eat and we can finish talking then.”

    Connor sharply looks to the side. “I’ll be there in a few. Go ahead without me.” He continues as Ritch opens his mouth to say something, “And if you just stay here and wait for me I will purposely skip dinner and breakfast tomorrow. And you know I’ve lasted longer without food before and it won’t faze me.”

    “And you know it won’t faze me either.”

    “Won’t it?” Connor usually lasted just over three days without food before giving in during Amanda’s “survival evaluations”. Ritch only lasted one and a half on average.

    There’s a heavy, tense silence where Connor is painfully aware of the other four’s presence, and that they have no clue what to make of this or how to handle it. Thankfully, Ritch caves first with a sigh.

    “Fine then, but I don’t want you near Mr. Anderson.”

    Connor clenches his fists and law. “Good thing you’re not my guardian or superior then.”

    “He is, though. Your superior.”

    “And he hasn’t kicked me off of his table yet. And don’t even claim that he could be letting me stay just to be polite or whatever. We both know he isn’t like that.”

    Another silence, less tense and much shorter this time, though. Yet it’s broken by Ritch’s sigh once more.

    “Fine.” He snaps, shaking his head, “It’s your life, your downfall, your embarrassment, and your panic attack when he comes to dislike you.” He turns around and starts walking out of the room. He doesn’t pause as he calls over his shoulder, “Don’t come crying to me this time. This will be all your doing, and I am not your guardian.”

    “Wasn’t going to.” the other half calls back.

    Well that was a disaster. Well, not so much of a disaster as a wreckage of notable size. Here Connor was, thinking that it would be himself that would ruin his relationship with Markus, North, Josh, and Simon, but oh no. No, it was going to be Ritch that destroyed it in the end. That robotic asshat.

    Well, time to do some damage control.

    “I am so sorry you guys had to see that–”

    “Are you two like this all the time?” Josh interrupts.

    His question makes him freeze and stumble over his previous thought. Why would he care how he and Ritch act around one another?

    “Yes and no? I mean, when we’re not talking business, we’re either doing our own thing and leaving each other alone or training together, but our arguments don’t usually last this long. It’s usually solved one way or another by now.” Connor takes a deep breath, and finally relaxes his fists and stature, not realizing he was tense for a fight. He turns to the group that is now cautious, not unlike treading on eggshells, but not treating him as if he were delicate or unpredictable. More like unsteady, if he was forced to choose a word. “You guys know how siblings are, after all. This will pass.”

    No one says or indicates anything. Are siblings not usually like this?

    Markus takes a step forward. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but were you and Ritch pitted against each other often?”

    Connor almost considers leaving the room right then, making use of the out he was given. He’s been talking way too much today, anyway; he feels the way his throat is getting hoarse with how much he’s been using his voice. On top of that, he just doesn’t want to go into detail about their training. He doesn’t want their opinions of him or Ritch to change because of what they’ve done in the past. Although, if his twin didn’t feel like waiting until they were alone to continue their dispute, then why should Connor spare him of this?

    “I was under the impression that everyone fought against their partner in order to train. It helps both trainees’ styles to be either complementary to one another or near identical, and it helps them think in similar or complementary ways during battles, too. Did you guys not spar against each other regularly?”

    “There’s a difference between sparring against your partner and being pitted against them, Connor.” North responds this time, uncharacteristically subdued.

    “Well, yes, I suppose so…” There are so many regrets right now. After this, he’s just not going to talk anymore. It’s not worth it.

    Simon takes a slow step forward, watching his reaction, “Stop me if I’m going too far, but were you guys ever told to fight with the intentions to harm or subdue each other, rather than just to train? ‘Cause that is usually considered illeg–”

    –hand in his hair, boot digging into his back. He can’t breathe, he may as well be drowning on the mud he’s being pushed into–

    “No.” he says with a sharp shake of his head. Whether it’s an answer to Simon’s question or a reaction to his thoughts, not even Connor himself knows.

    –he takes the knife from his leg, wincing and hissing as it tears through–

    No.

    –loses his grip, causing him to be pinned again. He can’t move his arm. Why can’t he move his arm?–

    No, no no no no no–

    –it’s cold in summer..? Why is my vision so blurry? Wait, why am I alone now? No, wait! Don’t leave me! Please! I’ll do better! I promise I’ll do bet–

    “Connor?!”

    Connor finally snaps out of it with a small gasp, realizing that his vision really is getting blurry, but for a different reason. Crying is extremely disgraceful and impolite, especially in front of others. You have to be on your best behavior in front of people, and crying and curling up on the ground is not good behavior. He straightens up and forcibly relaxes his posture, using a single knuckle to wipe the threatening tears in the corners of his eyes. It’s now that he realizes he was beginning to hyperventilate. He needs a minute to be alone and calm himself, but he doesn’t want to be left alone. He really doesn’t want to be left alone–

    Ah, but he isn’t alone right now and they won’t be leaving him, he can distantly hear them telling him that right now. Maybe there’s a chance they won’t completely avoid him in the near future. Although, for now, he needs to be fine, and his small group of allies certainly don’t see him as fine right now. He needs to calm down. He’s making a fool of himself in front of them. He needs to reassure them that he’s fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll definitely be fine–

    “Connor, I’m so sorry.”

    “No, it wasn’t your fault. I apologize for the way I reacted just then.” Manners are key, especially when forced to cut a conversation short. He bows his head with practiced grace, “And to answer your question, no, we weren’t ever told to fight each other with such an intent. Honestly. It– ah– we weren’t technically against each other…” He looks up at the clock on the wall; it’s nearly dinner time. “Ah, you guys came in here earlier for a reason and I just keep getting in the way. My apologies.” Markus opens his mouth to speak, but Connor doesn’t give him time. “Thank you for keeping me company, though.”

    “Connor, I’m sorry for asking–”

    No no no. Can’t think of that. Don’t think. It never happened. It was just a bad dream. Just think of it as a bad dream. Ritch said it would help. Amanda may lie, but Ritch doesn’t. Does he?

    “No no, you’re quite alright. You didn’t know, it wasn’t your fault. It’s natural for people to be curious, and it really wasn’t that bad. I simply have a habit of over reacting to things.” Connor tries to make his following laugh sound genuine, but falls short. “Well, I should go now. Dinner will be starting soon and you still have business to attend to. I’ll see you guys later if you’re interested.”

    Connor finally manages to shuffle out of the room, but he never makes it to dinner that night, even if he told Ritch he would. Despite what he just claimed, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk to them again. People hate when others are large burdens, and that’s exactly what he’s becoming for them. He thought he could be better with fresh, new faces, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. It’s not how it works. It won’t ever be how it works, so it’s better to just leave them alone and let them have peace.

    Ritch was right. He probably needs to start leaving Mr. Anderson alone. He understands now. Maybe he can still sit there to be alone? But why would he stay here at the base just to be alone? If he can’t even handle getting casual friends, how will he ever find a partner? And Connor’s replaceable in a way the ex-pilot is not, so they would not be nearly as patient with him.

    Does that mean he needs to quit after all? What could he even do if not this? What would Ritch do? Connor’s the reason he’s even here in the first place. He’s the reason Ritch will be stuck in a life style he never particularly wanted growing up. Why can’t Connor ever do anything right? Everyone is right, he’s too naive, too childish, too quick to get too deep into things. It needs to stop. He’ll pack his things tomorrow and tell the instructors about all of this and he’ll be gone by tomorrow evening or the next morning, whenever Ritch isn’t around. If Ritch finds out he’ll definitely blame Connor and make him stay with him as payback or something. Connor can’t stay, though. He’s useless.

    His room’s door opens with a creek, causing Connor to instinctively curl into himself, but he forces himself to relax and slow his breathing. If Ritch thinks he’s asleep when he gets back, he’ll leave him alone. With every footstep, adrenaline rushes through Connor. He’s distantly aware that he’s being like this because he’s afraid Ritch is going to pop out of nowhere and confront him, knowing he won’t have the energy to fight back now. They’ve been arguing all day and a good chunk of yesterday too, it’d only make sense for Ritch to try something like that.

    Instead of doing so, though, Connor simply changes into sleeping clothes and climbs into bed. The main light was never turned on, so the room has been coated in darkness from the start. After some time of resting, though, there’s the creak of the door, then a click accompanied by a soft, yellow light flooding the room. It stays on for a long while before Connor hears Ritch shifting around again. This time, the other twin climbs out of the lower bunk and sounds like he’s about to put on his real clothes again, but pauses in the process.

    “Connor.” The man in question can hear the stern frown in Ritch’s voice. He uses all of his self control to not stiffen because of it, but it apparently wasn’t good enough. “Connor, I know you’re up. Why didn’t you eat?” that same stern frown is likely still on his face.

    Connor doesn’t move, hoping that if he keeps up the act and ignores his racing heart, Ritch will convince himself that he was just seeing things. He knows it’s not a realistic thing to hope for, but still.

    “Connor, even if you weren’t up before, I know you would be by now. Why weren’t you in the food court? The others were.”

    No response. He remembers what he said before in the training room, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. It just makes things worse. Besides, his throat is still a bit scratchy.

    “Fine. Be a child. I don’t care. I’m not putting up with this shit anymore.”

    No, wait, please don’t leave. I take it back, I’ll get better at talking so I can do it without messing up, like you can. I’ll teach myself how to respond better so I don’t have to worry about making things worse anymore. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want anyone to hate me. I don’t want to be alone again. Please–

    “Connor?” Soft footsteps creep closer. “Are you crying?” If Connor didn’t know better, he’d almost say that Ritch sounded concerned.

    Before responding, he takes a shaky breath so he can speak without too many tremors in his voice. “I’m not crying.” Another, shorter breath. “It’s impolite and childish, especially in front of people.” The next breath is shakier, and definitely a give away that he’s slowly failing his attempt at not crying. “I’m fine. You need rest.”

    “Connor–”

    “You’re not my guardian. You don’t need to babysit me. Just let me self destruct like you said you would. It’s not even anything serious. Goodnight.” Just because his sleep schedule is going to be completely ruined, doesn’t mean Ritch’s has to be as well.

    “Connor…”

    He doesn’t respond.

    There’s a shuffle of Ritch sitting down on the bed as he asks, “Did they ask more questions?”

    “Yes, but you were there for them.” Maybe he’ll let him go to sleep if he plays along.

    “Was that the only thing they asked?”

    Connor sighs, annoyed. “Yes.”

    “What did they ask?”

    Connor finally makes himself sit up. “Ritch, I just said–”

    “Connor.” If a tone of voice could paralyze, Connor wouldn’t even be able to blink.

    He sighs again, this time in defeat. “If I tell you, would you let me sleep?”

    “Depends on if what I’m told and if it’s a lie or not.”

    Connor hesitates.

    “...if I promise to tell the truth, will you leave me alone?”

    “Depends on what the truth is.”

    “Then no.”

    Ritch jumps up from where he sat on his lower bunk. “Connor! I swear to god–”

    “They brought it up, okay? God, are you happy now?”

    “Brought what up, Connor? Use your words–”

    “It.” he snarls, “They asked a question that made me think of when it happened. And I know you aren’t as affected by it as I am, but I can’t handle anything like you can. I just can’t...” Connor finally lets himself fall back down on his bed in a desperate attempt to hide the silent tears that are finally falling.

    This time, Ritch is the one that doesn’t have a response. Good. Let him think about when it happened. Let him suffer just like Connor was trying to avoid because he’s a nosy prick.

    Ritch heaves a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I can talk to them about it tomorrow, try to calm them down. They’re probably very worried about you or both of us now.”

   Connor grunts. They probably should be worried, but he knows that leaving things as they are now would only make things worse for himself in the long run.

   “Connor.” Another grunt. “Please try to eat something tomorrow. I’ll talk to Luther to see if you can take tomorrow off. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

    “I’m not a child anymore.” he grumbles.

    “No, you’re not.” he agrees softly.

    Another grunt, this time followed by a heavy sigh. He won’t be getting that break. Even if he did get it, the chances of him being put in the danger zone of being sent home are more likely than most of the other trainees. If he can’t even handle being here for two days without becoming so completely and utterly useless, then what business does he have trying to be a fully-fledged pilot? None, that’s the answer.

    He is distantly aware that Ritch has started trying to talk to him again, but Connor really just wants to go to sleep and forget about today, and so he does. He assumes his twin goes to bed soon after he did, though, because when he tries to wake Connor up for breakfast the next morning, he appears to be well rested. No obvious dark circles or bags under his eyes, no sluggish movements, his eyes clear. That’s good. Ritch will do just fine here. He knows how to talk like a normal human being and responds to others well. He’ll definitely find a new partner in no time.

    Ritch walks out the door. Connor almost tries to get up to get ready for class, then figures that if he’s actually going to quit soon, then he may as well just stay put. Therefore, he’s still in bed by the time breakfast ends and the first class begins. No one tries to come get him. He’s not surprised, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting. He tries to convince himself that it’s just because Ritch told everyone that he needs a day off, but, if anything, that makes the sting in his chest worse for some reason.

    He’ll try going in after lunch, after he’s had some time to settle down a bit.

    After deciding on that, he goes to his dresser drawer and pulls out the small bottle of strong sleeping essential oil that Ritch and Amanda have no clue he has, let alone needs often enough for it to maybe be unhealthy. Here, he has it stuffed in the back of his dresser-locker under some clothes. He rubs a bit of it onto his foot then pulls a sock on because he doesn’t want that horrendous smell getting all over his sheets. His head doesn’t even quite make it onto the pillow properly before he’s out like a light.

    Sleeping means no thinking, and no thinking means no stressing, after all, and that oil does a damn good job at knocking people out.

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A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait! I promise future updates won’t take this long! I’m just in the middle of a move and  life kinda bitch slapped me outta no where there for a hot minute, but I think things are going better now. The next update probably won’t be as soon as I want it to be, but y’all won’t have to wait four months again Lol. Thank you to anyone who stuck around this long, despite me being new Heheh 😄 Thank you for reading and I hoped y’all didn’t hate it!! I absolutely promise that next chapter will be filled with lots of comfort and fluff!! 😄💖💕

#reed900 #gavin reed x rk900 #reed900 fanfic #reed900 fanfiction #reed900 au #hankcon #hankcon fanfiction #hank x connor #hannor fanfic #hannor fanfiction #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #hannor au #hankcon au #slow burn #pacific rim!au #The Drift Between Us #Chapter 3

[stimmy-chloe]

In which I spend approximately one year (not really) musing about my experiences with autistic burnout, particularly the later parts of it that took place last year, and my thoughts involving it, because I’ve been thinking a lot about burnout lately.

(Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, and a few mentions of a home invasion. I’ve... been through some shit lmao)

I’m not quite sure how to begin this, honestly.

Like... where do I start? Do I begin by discussing the background of my environment and my mental health prior to the very beginning of my burnout? Do I launch into a comparison of my prior-to-burnout self with my current, (mostly) post-burnout self?

I guess I’ll start with this:

Autistic burnout sucks. Like, it seriously sucks. Everyone who enters it has different reasons for why they enter it. I think for me personally, mine was set off by a combination of accumulation of long-term stress and trauma. For the longest time, I thought it was for the most part set off by what happened back in 2016. But now... I think what happened back then was a huge part in setting it off, but I also think there was more to it.

Let’s dive into when I first noticed my burnout:

Ah, yes... Go figure, I first Actually Noticed the symptoms of it shortly after the home invasion. Eye contact became more difficult (whether that’s burnout-related or related to the fact that I made eye contact with the guy who broke in, I have no idea), speaking verbally suddenly became quite difficult, I began feeling the need to stim more... Obviously, the list goes on for sure, but those are the first three I can think of.

I remember not noticing them too much at first, as I was more focused on my anxiety and depression symptoms worsening and PTSD symptoms emerging (I guess, after all, panic attacks that rapidly increased in frequency; all the fun things I used to love, including my special interests, suddenly becoming very boring; and dissociation, and nightmares basically replaying what happened in some way, are more noticeable than the symptoms of burnout). Once I did notice them, though, it didn’t take me long at all to figure out what the problem was.

From what I can tell, using my fuzzy memories of 2016 (I dissociated through about 90% of 2016 after what happened and I feel like that is to blame for the year being pretty fuzzy), it seems my burnout didn’t really? Leave too many after-effects or affect me that much once it appeared to pass around the end of 2016. I mean sure, I did begin going nonverbal* occasionally whenever I was stressed or overloaded, I had shutdowns whenever I got too overwhelmed, my sensory issues were more noticeable, I was more easily exhausted during social interaction... Just some shit that sucked to have to deal with, but was otherwise bearable.

(*For the longest time, I believed that I didn’t have any nonverbal episodes at all until the home invasion happened, but I recently had a memory from when I was little resurface and I’m... pretty sure I went nonverbal at some point during it. Just want to mention that before we go on, especially since I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it on my blog before, me not having any nonverbal episodes until after what happened. Why do I want to mention that in this post specifically? I don’t know; I just do)

Whether my burnout actually went away or simply eased up to the point of not having many noticeable symptoms, I’m not a hundred percent certain. I do know that a smallish part of 2017 was nice, but otherwise? I felt unsatisfied with who I was constantly, I still felt stressed and tired a lot of the time, and of course, go-fucking-figure, I had a depressive episode slam into me sometime during the fall that ended up carrying into the next year. 

(Also, honestly? To put it simply, a lot of 2017 was just full of me feeling like I was on the verge of a huge-ass meltdown. When I think of the concept that I was perhaps still in burnout or at least on the verge of returning to it, this feeling and my experiences in 2017 make a lot of sense, which is basically why I bring up the year in the first place)

It wouldn’t be until February 2018 that I would finally get relief. It was brief at first, but once I got my ex out of my life, I found relief from depression for good. For most of February, everything was quite calm for the first time in a while.

I still remember the date it all began... March 1st, 2018. The day everything just... I don’t know. Collapsed, I guess.

That very day, I went nonverbal after visiting friendo. Though I thought it was strange (after all, I wasn’t shutting down or feeling stressed or overwhelmed), I for the most part was worried that perhaps I was having another depressive episode on the way, something I had--according to a Tumblr post I made--been worrying about for a while.

The next day, I didn’t think too much about it. It was strange, but hey, it was an isolated incident. I shouldn’t have one happen again for a while, right?

Wrong.

I went nonverbal 3 days later during a voice-call with friendo. And again the day after while out on a field-trip with him. And if I recall correctly, the day after that. Before I knew it, I was going nonverbal nearly daily.

That wasn’t all, either.

My sensory issues suddenly worsened. I began self-harming more often (and my long-time habit of hitting myself made a return) and--for a while--daily. Speaking became very difficult and particularly exhausting, even if I wasn’t about to go nonverbal. At the peak, even dressing myself and using the toilet was very difficult to do (and sometimes, those still can be difficult for me to do-- without help, at least. Shame and a feeling of “not bad/valid enough to need help” has kept me from asking for any kind of help in these areas)

The thing is, that ain’t even everything. It was all... honestly a huge-ass mess. I know part of it appeared to be triggered by my anxiety worsening to the point where I was worrying literally nonstop, getting hit by random anxiety out of nowhere frequently, and could barely leave the house or speak to next-to literally any human-being without entering a severe panic, self-harming, barely avoiding a meltdown, or having a shutdown. The rest of it was triggered by... everything else that went on beforehand, I guess.

I wasn’t too sure how to feel about all of this. I remember feeling distressed by a good bit of this. I guess that must’ve been because I was used to seeming “normal” and knowing that I didn’t seem that way anymore just... brought me distress, I guess. Seeing other people distressed by this didn’t help either.

My family and I quickly took action to help this. I got on my anxiety medication not too long after all of this started happening and very quickly, my nonverbal episodes took a significant decrease, I became able to socialize with others without panicking again, and I began feeling less tired. Things became easier, and I felt better. Right around this time, I also started occupational therapy and that also helped a lot. Things seemed to go back to normal quickly-- the normal I was used to, anyways.

And then suddenly, I began having the urge to use echolalia more often and to speak in shorter sentences. Sometimes, I just wanted to speak in one or two single words!

I had mixed feelings about this. One side of me was cool with this, the other side was just like “ummm”. My feelings flip-flopped a lot. One minute, I’d be caving into my urges and letting myself speak in short sentences or echo a TV show character. The next minute, I’d be feeling embarrassed and stopping myself from doing this.

Not too long before this began (the urge to use echolaliac speech more often), I had an evaluation to see if I needed speech therapy alongside the occupational therapy I was already having. After the evaluation, I learned that I did not need speech therapy (though that’s not to imply that there weren’t noted issues). In fact, according to the speech therapist who evaluated me, I had the speech and language skills of a 21-year-old! Talk about a shocker! Initially, I felt quite prideful about this. Right around this time, though, I... suddenly started feeling like I couldn’t use echolalia or shorter sentences, because it “didn’t fit the skills” I had then. I suppose the fact that I’ve been a tad bit of a perfectionist for a couple of years now didn’t help any.

So... After a while, I began fighting back the urges to use echolalia (how much I tried to resist it: I stopped myself almost completely from even doing casual quoting from cartoons-- and I used to do that a lot!), as well as the urges to use shorter sentences and single words. This wasn’t a good thing to put it simply. Quite quickly, stress began building up. But it would be a while before I’d see the consequences of such a build-up.

***

I still remember when my allistic-passing act completely collapsed. My verbal speech went with it. And--for the most part--so did my ability to pass as allistic.

I don’t know why I felt such a powerful need to pass. Speak “properly”, speak no matter the cost (no matter how exhausting it is, no matter how hard it is, no matter how much it almost hurts), don’t use echolalia, don’t use AAC unless you’ve gone nonverbal (even if speaking is getting too hard to be worth continuing speaking), don’t stim so openly... The list certainly goes on, but those are just what I remember the most.

I’ve heard about how “”high-functioning”” I was multiple times in the past, starting when I was... about 10, I believe. It didn’t really bother me when I first started hearing it. Fast-forward to 6 years later, to this time period, and now it was a source of annoyance and general stress. Now at this point, I knew how functioning labels were actually quite problematic-- but despite me not agreeing with them, those specific words made me feel some sort of pressure to pass, even though I had thought for quite a while already that functioning labels were bullshit and that I therefore didn’t have to listen whenever someone described me as being “”high-functioning””. Hell, even if I didn’t hear it recently, those words clung to me like some kind of glue for some reason, adding to the pressure. And right around this time, the pressure kind of... hmm, started really getting to me at this point.

(Personal comments before I go on: Functioning labels are complete and utter bullshit and this whole thing is exactly why I can’t stand them, “high-functioning” especially. Oh, and if any of y’all reading this happen to call someone you know “high-functioning” or even just slap the “high-functioning” label on people from time-to-time, maybe consider stopping? No, seriously. Stop)

If you asked me if I knew it was coming last year, I would have told you no, that this just came out of nowhere. But now? When I remember back to the weeks before my act died, I can tell now that by the way I was feeling, it was certainly coming and I had signs in advance. I just... didn’t notice them, or just plain ignored them without realizing it, if the latter is possible to do.

In the weeks leading up to it, things were getting very hard for me. I felt so horrible a lot of the time. Talking was beginning to become particularly difficult and was beginning to feel very bad. If I used echolalia (whenever I could bring myself to), it felt a little bit less bad, but... I always felt so guilty and embarrassed about using it, no matter where I was or who I was with or even if I was alone. It sure didn’t help any that the little voice in my head told me that I couldn’t use it, that I had to speak “normally” and “perfectly”.

I remember one day, around 3 weeks before my act collapsed, I was quite stressed and rushed to my room to hide from everyone so I could attempt to fight back tears. The second I sat down at my desk, go figure, I immediately began crying (and hitting myself, but that’s not the point). I remember at some point, shortly after I began crying, I thought about how much I just wanted to communicate the way I wanted to, how I just wanted to mostly echo people and things I heard, use shorter sentences, and type or sign what I wanted to say if I was having one of the many moments where speaking was just too difficult.

But no one wanted that, the voice in my head always seemed to like telling me. Mom will freak out thinking that you’re “regressing” again, everyone prefers “proper”, verbal speech, you need to talk “~perfectly~”, how you feel doesn’t matter one bit (for a long time, starting when I was about 10 or 11, I was hearing that sentence in my head constantly. I still hear it sometimes). I remember upon thinking about all this, tears began seriously streaming down my face. And I sat and wept for quite a while about that very thing.

If I could go back in time to this moment and decide that I didn’t care what other people thought and that I would communicate how I wanted to, I would do it in a heartbeat. But alas, I’m so used to always putting other people before myself (I’ve caused myself considerable detriment doing this), that I immediately pushed the idea away and continued passing.

I pushed hard. I pushed as hard as I could. Then I pushed even harder. I pushed so fucking hard, much harder than I should’ve. Keep passing, don’t drop the mask, don’t you fucking repeat that, you better keep talking, don’t make that sound, you don’t matter at all, pass, pass, pass...

And finally...

I collapsed.

While on vacation out of state, I went nonverbal two times. The first time, it was just an average episode. Stayed around for most of the day and ended when I woke up the next day.

The second one was... different, though. It first started in the middle of the afternoon and was stress-induced like usual, yeah, but that’s not what was different about it. I remember worrying that the episode would continue into the next day (I constantly worried about this when I was going nonverbal almost daily), but for once, I actually felt confident that I would wake up verbal again.

But I didn’t.

I remember that morning well. I was so confused and so was my family.

If there’s one strange thing I remember about this time period, it’s that I--for the most part--felt okay about dropping my passing mask if I was nonverbal. And I managed to drop it for the vacation. The feeling of relief was amazing. I actually felt good for the vast majority of the vacation. From what I remember, even seeing some people stare at me didn’t bother me for once.

I was nonverbal for 4 days in case anyone is wondering. The nonverbal episode ended the day after my family and I went back home. And my mask went right back on (though from what I recall, it seems that I felt much more relaxed than usual and therefore, didn’t really focus as much on passing as I usually did at the time).

...

But I sure wasn’t verbal again for long.

My memory of this time is very hazy for some reason and as a result, I didn’t quite remember the actual date until recently and even though I remember it now, the time period around it is, like I just said, very hazy.

Three days. I was verbal again for three days. Literally three. Three.

July 25th, 2018. That’s the date that it happened, the day that my verbal ability went back down the toilet-- for good this time.

I remember the evening I lost my ability to speak verbally well. Funnily enough, I remember that evening, I was singing to myself as I walked Russ around the front yard and right after I finished singing, I suddenly... thought about the concept that I could drop my mask-- and I could begin doing so by letting myself verbal/vocal stim more often in private. For once, I felt no resistance or fear regarding this concept. Instead, I felt relief and like I was actually allowed to do so. And I decided that I would begin to let myself verbal/vocal stim in private “more often”.

If only I had known what would follow around 20 minutes after this...

I heard a car door slam outside and I knew that my dad was home. For some reason I still haven’t gotten entirely figured out, I got that specific feeling in my throat-- the one I tended to get right before I went nonverbal.

I, of course, denied the hell out of it and kept talking as long as I possibly could. But of course, I had gone nonverbal very quickly, within 10 minutes of the feeling in my throat appearing. I remember going to bed a few hours later and worrying that I would wake up nonverbal again. I remember telling myself that I would probably wake up verbal again (I had less confidence than last time).

And what would ya know? I woke up the next day, still nonverbal. I was initially slightly horrified to put it simply. Honestly, though? A lot of my distress was caused by seeing my family distressed by me still being nonverbal, not the fact that I was nonverbal itself.

My memory of this time period may be hazy, but I do remember one major thing about this: My mask died.

I began stimming a lot, more than I ever did. I started having meltdowns again, intense ones that happened quite frequently. I made less eye contact. The two routines I had at the time, I needed-- and I craved more, and I could hardly stand unpredictably or a lack of routine. Around this time period, I almost always spent my free time indulging in my special interests; stimming; and lining up and sorting stuff. When I got on a certain medication for my ADHD that made my anxiety flare up... oh goodness, all of this just intensified.

I remember being confused and a little bit frightened by all of this, but at the same time, I also felt a sense of... relief. And also, an intense sense of happiness.

It would take 4, nearly 5, months before I would begin getting verbal speech back. I still haven’t gotten back to how I used to be, speech-wise and for the most part, otherwise as well.

***

Have you ever had someone tell you they were sorry about something and your response was genuinely “why tho”? Because that’s how I felt (and still feel) whenever someone apologized for my “suffering”.

When it all started, part two in July last year, I had people praying. Okay, that is fine, depending on what is being prayed for, I guess.

But here’s the thing... a lot of people seemed to feel sorry for me specifically during this time. And here’s the thing I’ve been wondering: What about all the other times I’ve struggled?

My anxiety’s been very bad, as we can see from this post. I’ve fought depression that’s been very, very bad. I’ve been suicidal as a result of the depression and I suppose the anxiety played a role in it too-- and at the peak of my depression, I came pretty damn close to acting on the suicidal thoughts (I even have one memory where I was genuinely about to try to fucking act on them). Hell, I was suicidal before my depression developed-- or at least before it seemed to develop when I was about 10. 

I was bullied when I still went to public school and the school stopped trying to do anything about it after a while. I was made fun of by other kids at the last church I went to (I say ‘made fun of’ because I don’t know if bullying quite fits. Otherwise, I’d say I’ve been bullied at church too). The children’s pastor at the church did nothing about it except for telling my mom and I to pray for the main kid responsible for making fun of me because she had a rough life at home (she said she would talk to the kid about it, but honestly, I don’t think she did). Both of these had significant impacts on me-- and in a way, I suppose they still do.

I’ve been through two traumatic events: Losing my home and narrowly avoiding death during the April 27th, 2011 super outbreak, and being involved in a home invasion in February 2016. I have PTSD from the home invasion and despite being a lot better than I initially was, I still feel the effects of it from time-to-time.

What about all these other times, I wonder? My opinion is that if you really want to feel sorry for me, feel sorry for my younger self. Feel sorry for 11-year-old me, who was struggling with anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts and was legitimately her own worst enemy. Feel sorry for 12-year-old me, who hardly had any friends, felt lonely on a regular basis, and of course, continued to struggle to cope with anxiety, the feeling of being “broken”, and the occasional suicidal thoughts. Feel sorry for 14-year-old me, who struggled to process her trauma and once again, was feeling the effects of multiple mental illnesses.

I know of people “sending thoughts and prayers” to my family and I after the home invasion (though some of these very people didn’t actually make a fucking effort to help us from what I can tell), but otherwise? I’ve heard almost next-to nothing about all the other shit I’ve been through. That pisses me off.

I imagine this would vary for different people, but honestly? For me, being hardly able to speak, having semi-regular meltdowns, and being pretty much unable to pass for non-autistic is a lot better than feeling the effects of depression, anxiety and PTSD combined. I’ll take all of this over suffering from the effects of my mental illnesses-- and believe me, they can be bad.

Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m actually happy about my life, about who I am. I’ve spent a good portion of my life hating myself, thinking that I was broken, worthless, that everyone would be better off if I was dead.

I’m so angry about the fact that I suffered like that for so long-- but no one else seems to be.

So tell me, who do you want to feel sorry for more: My current self, who can’t really pass as allistic, but actually loves herself-- or my younger self, who thought that she was broken and unlovable because of her autism and hated herself as a result?

***

Sometimes, when I think about this whole thing, I find it kind of funny, because 2 years ago, I had wondered about whether or not something like this, this kind of burnout that equalized me “going back to how I used to be”, would ever happen-- and I was terrified of it. And now, here I am 2 years later, “back to how I used to be”-- and also in some ways, in a way that I wasn’t like ever in my life.

When this all started, I had a wide range of feelings, negative and positive. From what I can tell, most of the negative emotions were from seeing other peoples’ reactions and observing their feelings. A lot of people--especially the adults in my life--seemed frightened and concerned when this all began. And for a while, I felt the exact same way. Fast-forward to present time and I’m... completely okay with all of this. Whether or not anyone in my life is okay with this now, I don’t know, but I think most people are (now).

I’m pretty sure (at least) most people who have been around before my burnout still love me for who I am, but... I still feel afraid sometimes, especially when I think of one aspect: The fact that I don’t see myself getting back to where I used to be, especially speech-wise. I’m okay with this now, but I don’t know who all in my life is. For all I know, the number of people okay with this could be zero. When we consider the fact that I want/prefer to communicate mostly via echolalia and AAC, I get very afraid of that sometimes, of losing peoples’ love and support, in this particular case, because of how I choose to communicate. It may seem small, but it’s a very real fear to me that I’ve struggled with a lot.

That fear is literally what caused me to push myself too hard and lose my ability to speak verbally in the first place and if that doesn’t say anything, I don’t know what does.

I imagine it’s probably worth noting that last year, right before my mask died, I was feeling a certain way, like my depression was right on the verge of relapsing, but the more my mask disappeared, the farther away the feeling got until it completely faded away. The feeling was around for a good bit of 2018, but it’s... gone now. So the only thing I can figure is that passing contributed to my depression and me losing my mask was likely the only thing that kept me from having what could’ve been a serious relapse of my depression.

Overall, I think my biggest challenge with this whole thing wasn’t my burnout itself, but my burnout leading me to confront what seemed to be a good bit of internalized ableism and the feeling that I would be unlovable if I was obviously autistic. Those feelings haven’t been easy to overcome at all, and I still haven’t managed to completely overcome them. I hope I can someday, but with how long I’ve dealt with these feelings, I imagine it’s going to take a long time to completely unlearn them, if I ever can.

Sometimes, I still feel like I’m unlovable and a burden because of my autism. Because I’m mostly nonverbal (and that the majority of the mouth words I do have are echolaliac), because of my stimming that can be quite visible (and loud!), because of my meltdowns that happen both in private and public settings and often involve self-injury, because of how easily overwhelmed I can be.

Most of the time now, I can push those feelings away and tell myself that my autism doesn’t make me unlovable (if anything, I imagine it makes me more lovable) or a burden. But some days are still hard and I believe the lies my brain will sometimes tell me, for a few hours or if I’m unlucky, for up to a few days.

When we consider the fact that I still feel somewhat ashamed and self-conscious of various aspects of myself (using echolalia, to name one big example that I still struggle with feeling shame over), that sure doesn’t help any. As time goes on, I feel less shame and insecurity, but it still remains in place in some way. I hope that someday, I will be able to completely overcome these feelings for good. And when I do, I swear I will be the happiest person alive.

My burnout was pretty hard to deal with. But the years of intense self-hatred I held inside me that was brought up by it was even harder to deal with.

***

At this point in my life, I just... I can’t bring myself to care anymore about other peoples’ expectations about how I act, about who I am. I’ve spent at least 5 years of my life worrying about what other people thought of me. It’s been exhausting. I remember thinking that people wanted me to act more allistic and I tried my best to fulfill that to my detriment. I imagine there is indeed some people in my life who expect me to act allistic.

Fuck that shit. I’ll exist however I want to.

I’ll move however I want, I’ll stim if I want to. I’ll talk-- no, scratch that. I’ll communicate however I want/need to, whether it’s through the AAC app on my iPad, ASL, gestures, vocalizations or echolalia. And I’ll use the mouth words that I have whenever I want to. And I’ll get back whatever mouth words I want, to use in whatever way I want to, no matter how “weird” they are, in usage or in some other way.

If I’m not hurting anyone or myself, then why get rid of it? (Read: Unless me flapping my hands, squealing and otherwise making noises, or using the symbols on my AAC will cause you to literally catch on fire or otherwise cause some kind of legitimate harm to you, me, or the people around us, then why the fuck would we have to get rid of it? FYI, “Because it’s inappropriate/not normal” isn’t a valid reason)

I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of passing. I’m tired of feeling like I’m trapped inside some imaginary person. And that’s why I’m no longer making an effort to pass-- and I plan on never passing again if at all possible. As of right now, my current plan is to only purposely pass if it means my life will be in legitimate danger if I don’t pass, which I don’t see such a situation happening ever. Therefore, I think it is safe to say that I’m never passing again. At all. Ever.

I may still struggle with feeling bad about myself sometimes, but I’m getting better about it and about 90% of the time, I feel pretty damn great about myself! I’m the only version of myself and if you think about it, that’s pretty rad.  

My future has become quite uncertain following everything that happened last year. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to work. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle college. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have another relationship, specifically one that goes beyond dating. I don’t know how much driving I’ll be capable of. I don’t know how many mouth words I’ll get back. But I do know for sure that my future doesn’t seem to involve living completely by myself or being 100% verbal again. And I’m trying my best to be okay with all of this.

Right now, I’m just focusing on taking care of myself in the ways I’m able and loving and accepting myself for who I am now.

#Chloe rambles #Self-harm tw #Suicide tw #Ask to tag #Damn this is a book. Might want to have an hour or two of free time if you read this #No seriously. I would not recommend reading this if you're busy. I talk A LOT in this :') #I'm pretty scared to post this because I'm afraid that it's going to make some people I know mad #But honestly? Fuck it. If people get mad then people get mad #Not my problem if people get mad about how I choose to live my life!!

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

i don’t think i’ve ever Talked About This except in the briefest of passing, but i didn’t Record It anywhere else, and you don’t have to read this if you don’t want to. (Update: It got Really Fucking Long. Three screens so far!) 

But I think I need to write about it, before I start forgetting it’s A Thing again.

I struggle with something called Secondary Anorexia.

I phrased it as such very intentionally-- “I struggle with”, not “struggled”, not “healed from”, not “I had”. Because, as far as I can tell, from my own experience, my own perspective with having both, it’s a lot like my experience with depression, or the phobia, or ptsd, or adhd. The scars from it are always there. It’s a sort of addiction, to a sort of thought habit, that your subconscious thinks, for whatever maladaptive reason, will help you.

You can learn to recover your bearings after a breakdown. You can learn to return to normal more quickly. You can learn to cope with it. You can learn to be brave and fight with it when it starts acting up. You can even learn to defeat it! But the memories, scars, and habits remain with you, pitting your present condition against your past experiences, even when you’ve done everything in your power to train your brain.

Every single thought you have has the power to change your brain on a physical level. Did you know that? (This isn’t modern optimism; a real neurological fact based on science and studies.) Your Thoughts Change Your Brain.

But the thing is, sometimes your thoughts aren’t as Empowered to make as BIG of a change as that traumatic moment when your amygdala, and whatever other parts of your brain that process Thoughts and Emotions and Long-Term Memory got involved. 

You still have depression, or a phobia, or ptsd, or adhd. You’ve just learned to live with it.

And this anorexia? I’m still learning how to fight it. And I’m going to be honest, a lot of my motivation isn’t some abstract, long-term health goal, like “it’s not healthy to skip meals”. But I fight because, almost, almost as traumatic as the times when My Phobia was Triggered, were the times I passed out. Hit my face on furniture on the way down. Felt absolutely dreadfully ill even if I’d eaten that day, even hours after coming to, because my body was just so absolutely exhausted and hypoglycemic that I could barely lift my hand. The sociophobic guilt and embarassment when you pass out right in front of someone. Especially with your brain so fogged it would put San Francisco to shame, and you can’t explain it, or tell them how to help, or assure them you’ll be okay?

But even the thought of passing out, going through that again, isn’t enough to force myself to eat sometimes. (Because of how strong the fear is, I often decide, on a very conscious and willing level, that I’d rather pass out and go to the hospital than wind up being sick.)

The thing about e/metophobia is that, it’s a phobia. It’s an Irrational Terrifying Thing. (although, if you knew the way my body reacted before, during, and after it happens? You wouldn’t call it very “irrational”, my mother even said it might be a form of ptsd rather than specific phobia disorder. But I had the phobia long before I learned how Truly Miserable it would make me.)

And even with, gods at this point FOURTEEN YEARS of meditation experience, 18 years of practice with Disciplining My Thoughts, and lifetime of teaching myself to Be Rational in the face of Emotion? ESPECIALLY fear???

Even with my literal lifetime’s accomplishments in these fields, I can’t turn off the fear. I can’t work myself through it until the Stimuli (re: Stomach Feeling Bad) actually goes away. All the mindfulness exercises and self-talk experience and energy work and redirection and distraction and rest in the world can’t bring me back to a Stable, Calm Center when the phobia is even REMOTELY triggered!

I’m not in the mood to delve into everything the phobia does to me; there’s a reason that, even as transparent and convenient it is to have it on my blog here, records of the Actual Events get relegated to an entirely different blog. I can’t even stand THINKING about it. But I have e/metophobia because, in short, my body can’t handle it. My mind can’t handle my body going utterly insane with it. I have never, ever, EVER experienced that “relief” you’re supposed to feel when it’s done; that’s a big fat fucking myth to me. If hell is real, and my pagan ass is relegated there for eternity? It would be exactly That Phobia Trigger happening perpetually; there is literally no suffering in this world that affects me as deeply, completely, makes me unravel the way that having my phobia triggered does.

So, when I feel like It Might Happen? The only thing I can do to prevent it is Not Eat. (Sometimes it’ll happen even then. But statistically, when I feel that bad, if I don’t eat, it won’t. 99.9% of the time, it won’t Actually Do That if I don’t eat.)

So when I’m not eating? That’s what I’m doing. Not just feeding an Avoidant Behavior, but preventing dehydration; preventing hypokalemia and hypotension; I’m preventing trauma; I’m legitimately preventing my body’s condition from deteriorating any further. A little light-headedness is absolutely a small price to pay for knowing I can still stand. Still talk. Still go to work. Still do what I need to do. Still SLEEP.

It’s an absolutely essential defense mechanism for getting through any number of nausea sessions without utterly breaking down.

And yes, “Secondary Anorexia” is, in fact, the term my psychologist gave me by way of diagnosis.

I’m not sure what the criteria is, exactly, but my weight fluctuates wildly-- we’re talking up and down twenty pounds every month. In the past couple years, I only got as close to the “underweight” category as I was when I was a kid ONCE, when I was very ill. But for the most part, I can keep myself at a decent weight. With the help of medications at this point, of course... but days when even those don’t help? I’m still really prone to just, not eating. (With the meds, it’s not for a whole day. But I’ll skip a meal, sometimes two. I have to.)

And the sad/scary part of it is, it actually DOES help me. If I don’t listen, and try to make myself eat? I’m going to be traumatized. That’s just a statistical, empirical-data-supported fact of my life. The phobia is going to Be Triggered, and I’m going to Suffer Disastrously.

I wish I could pinpoint when that became the Standard, though...

I always figured there had to be Something Wrong with Being Afraid to Eat. Especially when I turned 18 and realized, that’s what I was feeling.

The way anorexia was taught in my middle-school class, as a Body Image Issue Exclusively, I didn’t think that was my problem. In fact, I didn’t even come to think that, hey maybe, being n@us0us all the time was, in fact, abnormal? (Part of that is probably because every time I told an adult I wasn’t feeling well, they told me to deal with it, or that I was faking, or that nothing was wrong because I Didn’t Have a Fever and The Phobia-Trigger Hadn’t Actually Happened. So SURELY I was just being a hypersensitive, overdramatic CHILD who didn’t know what her OWN BODY was telling her!)

--I’m sincerely so incredibly fucking bitter over that. Over that entire mentality. Something has been WRONG with me since infancy (my mother told me a couple years ago that, at the time she didn’t recognize it as a sign of tummy trouble, but when I was a baby I would curl my legs up against my body Very Often. There were times when I would just cry and cry and cry, and nothing would soothe me. How much of that might’ve been empathy in a tense and depressive household, and how much might’ve been colic, I can’t say. Obviously I just don’t remember. But Mom did say that. now that she did know what that meant, she wishes she’d looked into it.)

But anyways. This pattern, the evolution from “I don’t feel well after eating”, to realizing “hey I really don’t like feeling this way”, to “I feel sick, so maybe I shouldn’t eat right now”. to “hey maybe if I don’t eat, I won’t feel sick at all”... I don’t have any record of exactly how it evolved, except in Vaguest Life-Phase Memories.

In high school, I was writing and drawing emvents frequently enough to fill a folder with them. I used to skip breakfast in middle school, because I’d wake up feeling so sick.  (I remember a couple times, in my earlier memories, I had tried to eat when feeling unwell, and it only made me feel worse, to the point where I’d start contemplating Where to Go when it DID, which of course made Eating While Feeling Ill a very Aversive Thought. But I was so afraid of my parents forcing me to eat that, rather than explain to them that I wasn’t feeling well, I would make food, and either pretend to eat it and then HIDE IT, or throw it away when they weren’t looking. Sometimes I took toast or an apple to school, thinking my appetite would come back, but most days it went entirely uneaten.

And I remember... one morning, that I’m not going to detail. I don’t remember if stepmom took me or if I took the bus, so it might’ve even been elementary school. But I remember regretting eating, and then It Happened, and thinking back, I’m impressed with myself that I didn’t completely throw away the blankets afterwards. Then again, I don’t think my phobia was as Settled In at the time, because I didn’t have So Many Experiences to cement it as the immense Anticipatory Dread it would become.... but because of that morning, to this day I get immensely uneasy whenever I see those pancake-wrapped sausage things in the freezer section, and that unease is why I think I’ve never bought frozen breakfast food, because I can’t even have them in my peripheral vision.

Around the same time as that, I woke up feeling TERRIBLE, and was so open about my misery and panic that it shocked my stepmother into letting me stay home. I recovered, after not eating and a few hours of rest. I remember telling her, when I came down, “I think I’m nausi-phobic.” (I didn’t know e/metophobia was The Thing until I was about... gods, 16, maybe 17. But I knew how badly Feeling Nausea freaked me out, even at age 13.)

As for when my psychologist told me that what I experience is, indeed, a diagnosable Secondary Condition? It must’ve been around October or maybe November/December of 2017. (Those months when I got really, incredibly ill, and didn’t know why. Still don’t know why, to this day... but I’m making an appointment to figure it out. Sometime. You know that adhd struggle I keep talking about? Yeah, whenever I freaking REMEMBER to make an appointment when offices are actually OPEN.......)

Or it might’ve been after when she brought out that phrase, because I think I was working at this job when I was talking to her about my anxieties. (I remember, I was waiting at a bus stop to go to the dog-boarding job, so it must’ve been more recent, in fact...)

I’ve been typing at this for over an hour and I really need to go to bed, but.... I feel like I haven’t even put down half my thoughts here. I might resume tomorrow, if the inclination strikes. For now, just.... God if you read all the way down to here, first of all can I borrow your attention span, and second, thank you!

#ed talk #disordered eating tw asgdhfdjgfkdf #rhs personal posts #rhs emlog #digital mirrorbooking

[lionheartslowstart]

The Part I Don’t Talk About

I’m fairly open about my C-PTSD. For the most part, I don’t have a problem discussing it (or the person who caused it) in vague terms, or even discussing a few symptoms or contributing events here and there. I generally talk about the bad things, the things the average person would probably associate with C-PTSD. I can talk about his compulsive lying, his inability to decide whether he loved me or not, how he lied to all my “friends” about our relationship, how he made me feel worthless and unlovable in a variety of ways...sometimes I can even go into more detail about specific things that he said or did, depending on who I’m talking to and what mood I’m in. Most of the time, I’m okay afterwards, or if I do end up triggering myself, it’s pretty short lived. However, there is another side that I typically do not discuss. And on the extremely rare occasion that I do, it’s incredibly challenging for me to do so. It’s also the part of my C-PTSD that is probably the most painful to deal with.

The good memories are far and away the absolute worst part about having C-PTSD.

Seems counter intuitive, right? I think the reason is that “Shawn” caused so much pain that I don’t want to have positive memories of him. It almost feels like a trick, or a trap. Or even like my diagnosis doesn’t make sense. Why would I have C-PTSD if so many parts of our relationship were wonderful? But each of those happy times was the calm before the storm. That roller-coaster, going from flying so high to having all the juice crushed out of me, that’s exactly why I have C-PTSD. It’s why I question people’s motives all the time, it’s why I can’t believe anyone really loves me, it’s why I don’t know how I’m supposed to be treated, it’s why I don’t really know what love is supposed to be like. Then there’s the added layer that he is a sociopath. He is not capable of love or empathy. He never was. And to think back to all of those times when I felt so treasured, I have to remember it was all a lie. Every happy time I ever had with him was purely one-sided. He was my whole world. I was his play thing.

Worse still, the number of happy memories far outweighs the number of dreadful ones. I think that’s largely due to the fact that my brain has managed to block most of the negative experiences, though some positive ones have certainly been sealed away too. Every now and then I’ll suddenly remember something, for literally any reason or none at all, and it can be either good or bad. Dealer’s choice. But of the times I do remember, many of them are good ones, and much to my dismay, they’re incredibly vivid. I remember the way he touched me, the way he breathed into my ear, the way he gently wrapped his lean hands around my neck when he kissed me. I remember the way he kissed me, how it simultaneously felt warm and safe like home, but also like being whisked across the sky through stars and rainbows. I remember the way he could never look anyone in the eye while he was speaking. He always shut his eyes when he spoke. I remember how he stood in front of me and let me sing all of the songs that made me hate him right to his face. I remember how right after that he told me to sing “Mama Knows Best” by Jessie J, then applauded me and told me how impressive my belting was. That was the first and last time he ever complimented my singing. I remember falling asleep wrapped in his lanky arms, feeling so safe and so scared at the same time. I remember taking care of him when he was sick, even though three nights before he had told me he never loved me (again). I remember how he called me crying and begged me to get back together with him. He said he needed me. I remember going to Sundaes and Cones across the street on the weekends. He always got orange creamy. I remember how much he loved orange juice and Reese’s peanut butter cups. I remember how much he hated any and all sandwiches. I remember when I visited him in the winter, his parents said they wanted us to sleep in separate rooms, so he would wait until his parents had gone to work at 8 am, and then he would sneak back into his bedroom and sleep with me a few more hours. I remember going home with him that very first night. I remember I remember I remember. And I’m sure there are people in my life, both past and present, who might read this and think, Jesus Sophie, it was several years ago, move on. Don’t you understand how desperately I WISH I could move on? It’s been almost SEVEN YEARS of unending torture, of shutting my eyes and seeing everything like it’s happening right in front of me. I don’t want to remember this crap. I would give anything to be able to forget about him completely, to let go of everything that happened and not have to worry about any of this, to be able to trust again, to not constantly question everything that anyone has ever said to me, to not feel the crushing pressure of “I’ll never be enough.” Given the choice, I would much rather think about the time he silently watched me attempt suicide, or any of the nights when he looked down at me, cold and emotionless, as I sobbed on the floor, than think about any of the times he made me smile, or tricked me into thinking he loved me. Don’t get me wrong, they both suck ass, and if I could, I would choose neither. Every night I close my eyes and wonder, what kind of dream will it be tonight? Even though I know damn well it’s a nightmare either way.

#ptsd #post traumatic stress disorder #cptsd #complex post traumatic stress disorder #mental illness #mental health #mental health problems #trauma #ex #ex-boyfriend

[shookethbrooketh]

stars

chapter 18

dan felt warm, both physically and emotionally, somehow. there was a warm happiness about the evening, and it made dan feel at home not in a place but in a person. he’d had one of the best weeks of his life, and phil only added to it, giving him a warm, lovely feeling he couldn’t quite describe. finally, he felt like everything in his life was perfectly balanced, and all he knew to be true was that he never wanted it to end.

summary: dan grew up in a normal 1930s london family with his parents and little brother. everything was completely and utterly normal… until the bombs started dropping. When dan was fifteen his father went off to war, and when he was sixteen he and his brother hayden were sent off to a foster family in rural england. he looked up at the stars and couldn’t help but wonder how something that beautiful could exist in such a broken world. just when he thought things would never get better, dan met phil, and he became the shining star of his life. but when phil turned eighteen and went off to war, dan couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, the stars would twinkle the same way again.

rating: t

genre: angst, fluff, history au, strangers to lovers, teenagers

whole fic warnings: warfare (not descriptive), bombings, fire, panic attacks, ptsd, epilepsy/seizures, homophobia, death chapter warnings: n/a

chapter word count: 1.6k total word count: 24.3k

read it on ao3 read it on wattpad fic masterlist

The three boys each spent their afternoons in their independent rooms. Hayden was resting, with Dan checking in on him every half hour or so. It was a brief process, Dan just poking his head in to make sure the boy seemed alright. The rest of Dan’s afternoon was spent deep in thought dedicated to the struggles of the poor boy next door. He’d taken an emotional blow on the hill that he needed the afternoon alone to recover from, and that left Phil alone too. 

It wasn’t until Margo called them down for dinner that any of them spoke. “Can I talk to you for a second, Hayden?” Dan said, pulling him back as Phil passed them by. He looked up at Dan with sad eyes as he awaited a conversation topic. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said monotonously. “I feel completely normal now; don’t worry about me.” He gave Dan a smile that was obviously just to prove his point and ran off down the stairs. Dan stood for a second, unsure as to whether or not to believe him, but he obviously didn’t want Dan to have to worry about him. He went downstairs and watched Hayden scarf down his dinner, deciding he was definitely acting normal enough. 

“Hey, do you want to go back up to the hill?” Phil asked Dan as they left the kitchen after filling up on ham. “Just the two of us. I think you need a break.” 

Dan sighed. “I guess.” 

In a moment’s time, they were coasting up the hill in the dim evening light. The sun was still out, but Dan could tell it would be setting soon. Phil parked the truck at the top of the hill, and walked around to sit in the truck bed rather than climb the tree. Dan assumed he thought Dan’s short term memory would be triggered by the tree. He didn’t exactly appreciate the special treatment, but knowing it was out of a place of love, he climbed into the bed beside him. 

“I’m sorry I made you bring Hayden up here. I should have known whatever weird premonition you had would be right.” 

“Don’t be. You wouldn’t have known. He loved it up until-you know. Besides, I should be thanking you. You may have saved his life.” 

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t have needed saving if I hadn’t endangered it in the first place.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Dan said, wrapping his arms around the neck of his counterpart. “You did a good thing today. Thank God you were there.” 

“Really?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Their lips connected in a sort of a make up kiss for a fight that never happened. It was short, but it somehow managed to melt all his stress away in the split second that it existed. They settled back into the truck bed and watched the sun set in front of them. It was an uncharacteristically cold night, so it didn’t take long for Dan to get chilly. “Do you want to go inside? I’m cold.” 

Phil exhaled, rolling his eyes. “I’m so glad you said something; I’m freezing. Why is it this damn cold in June?” 

“I know, right?” Dan said, suddenly widening his eyes. “Is it really June already?” 

“Somehow, yeah.” 

“Wow.” Dan thought of his upcoming birthday and sighed. He used to love his birthday, but after his last traumatic birthday, he preferred not to think about it at all. He shook his head and smiled at Phil as they climbed into the truck. “Best six months of my life.” 

About a week passed uneventfully. Dan’s birthday was fast approaching, although he didn’t mention it to anyone. He was spending most of his time with Phil, but he was doing his best to make time for Hayden as well. The day before his birthday, Dan followed Hayden to his room after breakfast with the intent of spending the morning with him. “What do you want to do this morning?” he asked, grinning. 

“Actually,” Hayden said, absentmindedly putting some folded clothes in his dresser. “Phil was going to teach me to play football this morning.”

“Ready, Hayden?” Phil said, peeking in beside him. “Oh, hey Dan.” 

“Hey?” Dan said, pleasantly surprised. 

“Let’s go!” Hayden exclaimed, rushing to Phil’s side. The two of them disappeared down the stairs, leaving Dan to stand in awe for a moment. Eventually he followed them down the stairs and outside, where Phil was showing Hayden some technique. Dan thought back to playing football with Hayden in the London streets a year or so ago. They’d never been very good, but they’d had fun. Dan hadn’t even known until then that he was interested in playing football, nor that Phil had the skills to teach him. 

Dan slipped inside and grabbed the radio and its table, bringing them both outside and setting them down beside the rocking chair on the porch, where he rested. He turned on a jazz station and watched as they kicked the ball around. Dan was still in shock from the fact that Phil had taken the initiative to spend a morning with his brother. 

They’d set up a couple makeshift goals with sticks at either end of their ‘field’, and they started playing a bit of a mini game. Phil was obviously going easy on Hayden, but that almost made it even cuter. A part of Dan was crying out for him to join the Howell team and destroy Phil, but an even bigger part was telling him that he was perfect right where he was, and watching them play was bringing him a sense of ease he hadn’t felt in a while. It was like he was Hayden’s widowed mother, and Phil was the man he’d found refuge in. He was making an effort, and that was everything. 

The game was slow for a while, but then Hayden began to get into a groove. Dan watched as he scored his first goal and began jumping up and down from joy. “I did it!” he shouted, and Dan cheered from the porch, smiling so wide he wasn’t sure he was physically capable of stopping. There was a certain, soft happiness from the morning that couldn’t be replicated. It was pure, it was real, and it was love.

The three chose to spend the afternoon together, Dan and Hayden teaching Phil one of their favorite card games before they returned back outside to play hacky sack. The day was nonstop and eventful, in the best way possible, and the serotonin and adrenaline didn’t stop flowing on maximum until they were back on the hill. They were in the truck bed, as they’d taken to it instead of the tree. It wasn’t because of Dan’s possible fears; it was simply more comfortable. In the moist, summer air, neither of them wanted to use the energy to climb the tree. They enjoyed it on occasion, but more often than not they chose the truck bed. 

“Hey, Phil?” Dan said while he was in Phil’s arms, turning his head up to Phil as the sun was setting. 

“Mmm?” Phil responded, his hair blowing back from his head in the breeze as he looked down at Dan. 

“Thanks for hanging out with Hayden today.” 

“No problem,” he said, leaning his head back to its resting position. 

“No, really,” Dan said, drawing Phil’s eye contact back. “I really appreciate that you’re putting in effort to get closer to him. It really says to me that you care about me, and that means a lot to me.” 

“Well, you’re kind of a two for one, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m just glad you know.” Dan smiled a pure smile up at him, and Phil smiled back. Phil shifted his head down, connecting their lips, and they simply didn’t disconnect until one of them had to gasp for air. Dan hadn’t a clue how they’d gotten there, but suddenly neither of them could tear himself away from the other. Adrenaline coursed through Dan’s veins as he ran his hands through Phil’s hair, feeling Phil’s hands on his own back. It was a release of stress neither of them even knew they had, and Dan didn’t know how much he needed it until he had it. 

When they finally pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together, a smile on each face. “Damn, I love you,” Phil said, his voice deeper than Dan had ever heard it before. 

“I love you too,” Dan replied in between sharp breaths. There was a sexual tension in the air they mutually chose to ignore for the time being, instead choosing to revel in the moment. Eventually they relaxed into a cuddling position in the truck bed, hand in hand as they pointed out the planets and constellations. They even created their own constellations, Dan pointing out one in the shape of a heart. It was a moment that could only be described with the simple word ‘warmth’. Dan felt warm, both physically and emotionally, somehow. There was a warm happiness about the evening, and it made Dan feel at home not in a place but in a person. He’d had one of the best weeks of his life, and Phil only added to it, giving him a warm, lovely feeling he couldn’t quite describe. Finally, he felt like everything in his life was perfectly balanced, and all he knew to be true was that he never wanted it to end. 

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phic stuff #stars #chapter 18 #dong and ping

[ardynium]

Yes, it is still the #kinkmeme with #Uncle!Ardyn, the little sunshine and #Dad!Cor, and I’m not sorry at all. TW for slight violence.

Prompto was seventeen, and it was not his best day. Usually, he felt relatively safe walking through the city alone at night. He was a guy, not all that short, and very much able to fight if necessary, thanks to training with professionals since he was twelve. Cor, first, very insistent that he needed to learn how to defend himself, then occasionally Gladio, if that got Noct to attend his own practice. Somewhere in between, he had found that he liked it. It was great that all his energy had a place to go, and losing the pudge he'd had before was a nice side effect. He simply didn't seem to be able to bulk up, not in the way that Ignis did - he wouldn't even start to compare to Gladio - but he did look the part, wiry and fairly wide set in the shoulders. He was pretty sure he didn't look like an easy victim. And he was almost home, godsdamnit! The two men in front of him didn't care. One of them was aiming a gun at him. "Your wallet," was all he said, pointing the barrel at Prompto's pocket. "Okay," was all Prompto said, because he liked being alive a lot more than his money, and no matter how fast he was, a bullet was faster. He kept his hands where they could see them, and slowly reached for his wallet.

Patience wasn't among their strong traits. The other one, a brawny guy with a knife in his hand, stepped up to him. Took the wallet and leafed through it.

Gun Guy looked to the side, to see just how much they had just made - as far as money went, fifty gil in coins, and a credit card. Other than that a few other documents with Prompto's name on them. Those seemed to be interesting. "Now look at that..." "Mh? "Seems we caught a rare bird here. Leonis, eh?" "So?" "Fuck, man, don't you watch the news? Leonis as in "I'm standing behind the bloody king"-Leonis? That your daddy, little guy?" The knife wandered over Prom's chest. Without the gun Prompto would have tried his luck, because this looked like there was going to be trouble, no matter what he did. Alas, the gun was there, and he stuck with careful cooperation for the moment. "Yeah." He didn't ask them what they wanted. They were very clearly going to tell him. "So?" Gun guy wasn't in on the plan, whatever the plan was. "We take him along. Send a letter. Get fucking rich." *** Uncle Ardyn had decided to take a walk. It was a rather good walk, for it had been a rainy day, and on rainy days the streets were empty, and he liked the calming noise of raindrops on the concrete. He had some cake and a rather enjoyable meeting with a duck in the park, and they shared a hot dog and enjoyed the weather. It was dark when the rain stopped, and he walked home rather content, whistling a little tune. "You sure about this?" The voice came from a side street not even a minute from home, and it was followed up by Prompto saying, "Look, guys..." "Nobody asked you!" Usually, Ardyn was the first one to simply change the lane. Stay out of trouble. But this had been the fledgling, wasn't it? "Nobody ever asks me. I am quite used to that." A golden voice stating that fact quite amiably. Somebody ambled into the little alley. An umbrella clacking on the ground with every second step. "Piss off, buddy. That's none of your business!" Gun guy was wise enough not to loose target on Prompto, he had to give him that. "There seems to be a problem. May I inquire what it is?" Ardyn's voice was giving away his jolly good mood. Oh, fuck. This is so going to go wrong. "Hey, uncle. Um, those two were just about to leave. Right? This was a misunderstanding, and they just realised that they really don't want to be here, and now they're leaving." They wouldn't catch on, but he had to give it a go. "What?" Gun guy said. "Excuse me?" That was his uncle. He had stopped in his tracks, both hands on the handle of the umbrella like an actor in a musical just before he was singing about singing in some weather condition. "Down on the ground, or the boy gets it!" Knife guy, getting hectic. Bad thing. "Shall I follow his friendly plea, fledgling?" This was bad. This was so, so bad, no matter what he said next. "Your call. I just... really don't want to get stabbed. Or shot." "These nice gentlemen would not do that..."' Not even a blur as he moved. Had he even moved or been standing behind his attacker the whole time, hand around the knife's blade, just to make a point? "...now would they?" Prom's attacker did the reasonable thing and screamed, dragging the knife out of Ardyn's grip, spilling blood and darkness. "No," Prompto said, his voice wavering, "because they were just. About. To leave." Chances were it was too late for that. Gun guy's hands were shaking. That, too, was bad, because the idiot's finger was on the trigger. Guns were loud. Doubly so when a trigger was pulled by accident, at least for the shooter. His aim wasn't too bad, grazing Ardyn's shoulder, tearing fabric and skin. The boy saw his uncle's sad face, saw black and gold and knew to shut his eyes. Five more shots in rapid succession, then the cracking and crunching of bones. Then screams. Then whimpers. Then nothing. It wasn't the sounds that hit him so hard, even though Prompto could have lived without that memory. It was the smell, blood mixed with something that usually hung only faintly in the air on his uncle's bad days, and that now came on so strong it made him gag. Something a lot like burnt molasses and decay, so familiar, only that he could not connect a memory to it. He only knew that it made him feel small and very afraid of the dark. He opened his eyes. The men were gone. Nothing was left than his uncle, sitting in a sorry heap on the ground, hugging his own knees and rocking gently. The stench remained. He tried to shut it out, because he had to do something about this before the adrenaline wore off. He reached for his phone, and called Cor. "How serious is it?" No Hello. When Prom called while Cor was at work, it always was serious, and after Cor explained a thing or two about a relative with PTSD at work, taking a private phone call was a-okay. If the moment of hesitation on Prompto's end hadn't tipped him off already, what he said next definitely did. "We're two streets down from the park. Can't miss us." "Shit. Fifteen tops." It had been quite a while since this happened the last time. Usually it ended in... less of a mess. Prompto hung up. "Dad will be here in a bit," he said and sat down next to his uncle. The smell was so strong here that he wanted to run. Instead he reached out to lay a hand on his back and move it in soothing circles. "I would like to go home," came between heavy breaths that probably were sobs. Suddenly he looked up, eyes still golden, gleaming in the stray rays of a streetlamp. "They did not hurt you?" "No, they didn't hurt me," Prompto replied. "We can go home if you can get up." It was late, there weren't that many people on the streets. They either got up now, or they waited for Cor, because he was starting to feel the shock, and he didn't want to guide Ardyn anywhere while he was a shivering mess himself. "I understand." The answer was as hesitant as his try to get up, but he managed, very much a newborn foal trying to stand for the first time. "May I have a hug?" He wanted to tell Ardyn that it was going to be okay, but he didn't react well to that, sometimes, and Prompto didn't want to risk it. Whatever his idea of the future was, 'okay' wasn't in there, not in the long term. So he just gave him that hug. They'd be home in a moment, and then his dad would be there, too, and they'd sort it all out.

#dad!Cor #papa!cor #uncle ardyn #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn izunia #kid!prompto #kinkmeme

[angelfireeast]

Caitlin Snow-Killer Frost-Multiple Personality Disorder - If only!

fyi I wrote a long time ago before Caitilin “died” and was reborn killer frost. it’s just a if idea for what the writers could’ve done. Everytime I read quote from writers or DP saying this the evil powers making Killer Frost and not the real Caitlin feel so let down because this could’ve been a really good story for Caitlin exploring her dark side. It feels like spacegoat to use the evil meta powers card. They took the cheap easy way out by making it ‘evil powers’. 

They did leave open option of Caitlin good and this ‘her’ this ‘Killer Frost’ taking over her as mental disorder. But once again the writers choose not to take it and went to cheap easy way out. Setting it Caitlin and Killer Frost as two separate personality could have been a really good mental illness story for Caitlin which would last the rest of series which would be interesting in it’s own ways. But the writers don’t seem to even have guts or care or respect to follow through on that either. They kinda half assed it.

When I look over the story so far. There is a lot here that sounds exactly like Multiple Personality Disorder (which now called Dissociative identity disorder.) Killer Frost isn’t some wicked dark other being that has taken over Caitlin’s body.  It’s all Caitlin and trying to pretend Killer Frost is something you cut out like cancer or invading alien that go is not helping with the situation. The Killer Frost personality is scared of ‘dying’ basically but being forced to go away and she wants the Caitlin Snow personality to go away for good. Caitlin wants the same thing for Killer Frost. For this whole storyline Caitlin has refused to look at the psychological side of her problems. She’s looked at this as physical problem that needed to be cured. It’s really short sighted of doctor to refuse to look at mental health side of things but Caitlin decided meta powers were to blame and thus meta powers were the answer to the problem. She also refused to try to learn to control her power.

I don’t believe Killer Frost is just the “evil” meta human powers. Killer Frost is dissociate personality who has better a control of meta powers they both share. Caitlin has used the powers many times without becoming Killer Frost. When Caitlin becomes emotionally upset she becomes unstable and Killer Frost personality emerges. When the  Killer Frost personality comes out she uses her powers because that’s what this dissociative personality thinks she is - aka Earth 2 Killer Frost. This personality is protecting both of them from whatever threat is making them feel bad. It’s said Dissociative identity disorder second or third personalities can be more aggressive and hostile as means to deal with trauma that created disorder. This certainly fits with Killer Frost. When Killer Frost is aggressive or hostile and she uses the tools has to act out on her negative feelings which means she uses their powers in ways Caitlin normally doesn’t. Caitlin fears her powers so she doesn’t use them. Her fear when she uses them causes so much stress it brings on her other personality taking over. From what I’ve been reading it’s often the case that one personality is the “apparently normal part” of the personality responsible for day-to-day functioning and another alternate personality often is personality emerging in survival situations (involving fight-or-flight responses, vivid traumatic memories and strong, painful emotions. Which fits perfectly with Caitlin and Killer Frost who emerges whenever Caitlin gets really emotionally upset or stressed.

Post-traumatic stress disorder in adults may become Dissociative identity disorder as it is caused by traumatic stresses forcing the mind to split into multiple identities. What Zoom did to Caitlin in season two IMO is traumatic enough to bring something like this on. The old timeline she was in pieces riddled by PTSD brought on by what he did to her. Oh top all the loss and trauma of watching her lovers die before her eyes again and again (Ronnie not once but twice. Zoom murdered Fake Jay before her eyes. Her father died, her mother withdrew from her emotionally. Dr. Wells turned out to be Eobard. Jay was Hunter. On and on and on it goes). The writers used Flashpoint/timeline change to do a big old skip it with Caitlin when it came to her extreme PTSD from season two. Even using Flashpoint’s changes you still use Dissociative identity disorder to say she seemed to get her PTSD much faster in changed timeline but what really happened what she had mental break down which was her mind splitting into multiple identities to cope with that happened. Again the writers are just to lazy for that.Dissociative Identity Disorder works a lot better than a half baked ‘evil powers’ nothing really explained. 

Caitlin was in a very fragile state post Zoom and she discovers her powers and it’s the straw that broke the camel back. Zoom laid into her about having darkness within her and letting it out. She scared of becoming Killer Frost after having met E2 KF and suddenly she has these powers? It’s too much and breaks her mentally and emotionally. The fact that she kept everything secret did not help her. The more isolated is she with this fear the she it run right over top of herself. She decided the powers equaled evil and that was that exactly how things ended up.

There is no magic cure for Dissociative Identity Disorder. It’s an ongoing thing that needs to be treated with long term therapy for years. There has to be deep trust with therapists which is often hard because alternate personality, especially those who particularly those associated with illegal or violent activities, distrust therapists as they think goal of therapy is to eliminate them. There two healthy treatment goals for Dissociative Identity Disorder. One is goal of unified identity. The other finding a way to have each aspect of each personality coexist, and work together. The goal of achieving a more peaceful coexistence of the person’s multiple personalities is quite different than the reintegration of all those aspects into just one identity state. Medications can be helpful in managing emotional symptoms. Remember that Caitlin gave Ronnie and Martin these sorts of drugs to help them recover after spending a year trapped in one mind. So that’s hand waving Flash medicine for you.

Given how Caitlin, Killer Frost, Team Flash and Savitar are handling the situation eliminate the alternate personality is goal of each side. Killer Frost’s fears are based reality because everyone does any to eliminate her. Since no is treating this as mental illness thus there is professional help guiding their hands they all just ‘we’ll get the real Caitlin back’. No one is thinking of middle ground - YET. Caitlin sure as heck won’t agree to it because she fears Killer Frost too dangerous. I guess the question is Killer Frost cartoon evil? What could she look like if she was offered the right to live and given psychological and emotional help along with Caitlin? I think medication to help both their mood would be in order. She’d still likely be someone ready to kill at snap of fingers but would she be out raising hell? Or would be able to function in the world?

I always wondered why and how she made that absolute belief about her powers being evil. Perhaps it was because she had already started Dissociative Identity Disorder with the second personality emerging as this aggressive and hostile person before her powers started she decided her powers had to be related to slipt dark personality. The powers have to be evil because this emerging personality is so dark and Caitlin refused to consider psychological answer. Perhaps the stigma against mental illness was driving factor in all this. Again that make for interesting subject for show to discuss. Caitlin refused to look at psychological l side because of stigma involved. You would think ‘but she a doctor should be more enlightened on subject and not caught up in the stigma’? But that’s the thing no one wants to admit it’s happening to them personally. There is a ego factor of ‘I’m a doctor! I am not mentally ill. I have this under control. It is physical issue which I can cure myself. I have control of this situation’. Caitlin didn’t use her resources wisely as she tried to cure her “problem”. At every single turn she cut out everyone and tried do this alone on her terms. She only included the team when she was forced to. She only went to her mother when there was no other place to turn to, she manipulated Julian and the team to let Julian join team Flash without ever outright stating she needed help with a cure, she took a piece of the stone and kept it hidden for MONTHS risking Iris’s life and not caring about Iris dying in search for her cure, again all she needed to do what talk to the team. When Wally was crystallized in pod she went behind everyone’s backs to seek out Alchemy for cure. She went out of her way over and over and over to keep secrets and not get help from people who only want to help her and not judge her. Fuck they didn’t even blink at her betraying them they care that much. So why does she do it over and over again? Her go it alone secret path to cure keeps failing her so why keep doing it? Maybe because part of her is scared someone will look at the situation and go “this is your evil meta human powers fault. They aren’t evil at all. Their is part of your that is Killer Frost. This is mental and emotional issue”. She can’t deal with that. She scared of the word ‘crazy’. Look at her reaction when Julian pretty much told to take responsibly for her actions as KF. She got so upset over it and on top of being so worked fearing becoming Killer Frost she reacted by the Killer Frost personality coming out in a rage going ‘Fine I’ll take responsibly for myself. I’m evil. Haha! Iris dies’. Caitlin was talked back into taking control of the body by Julian when he said ‘that’s not the real you blah blah blah’. My point is Caitlin cannot handle the idea of being evil or Killer Frost without it ending her off the deep ending. Which is what brings out the alternate protective personality even if she’s scared of alternate protective personality..

Something that could scare Caitlin and Killer Frost, since they know the same thing, is that Doctors treating people with this illness sometimes find the more prominent personality states as the “host” personality may not be the “true” identity of the patient. Just think if they have secret fear they aren’t real owner of body.

We’ve had three version of Caitlin this season. Caitlin Snow, Killer Frost and CS/KF hybrid in 3.07  who shared the same goal of getting rid of meta human power & not caring about hurting people. You could say there are 3 alternate personalities. To find people deal with alternate personalities doctors often have them face that trauma that created it. The trauma that created the CS/KF hybrid was caused by Barry’s betrayal and was “cured” when Barry hashed things out with her. The alternate personality let go and the stronger personality of Caitlin took hold again. There was no need for the CS/KF hybrid defensive personality anymore. The two larger personalities remain.

#caitlin snow #killer frost #this story could have been million times better if only the writers gave a damn

[consultingdick]

PTSD, or the destruction of Sherlock’s psyche

SO I got an ask a few days ago asking if Sherlock has PTSD from Moriarty and my answer was:

Short answer: no. Long answer: he doesn't have PTSD (well. i need to think about that but I’m gonna say no for now). Moriarty was always like...a fucked up game, but Sherlock wasn't really that affected until TRF. The things Sherlock did post-fall are a source of pain, and the threat of Moriarty PLUS Eurus is very Not Good. But yeah not PTSD from moriarty's actions. [...] I forgot to mention he DOES have borderline personality disorder for other reasons, and anxiety + paranoia as like a result of that and from Moriarty

But then I was thinking about it and I read this fic and I’ve decided the answer is yes, Sherlock does have PTSD. Moriarty has a part in it, but unfortunately nothing is that straightforward.

FIRSTLY: I am not a psychiatrist, a psychologist, or a doctor. I also do not have PTSD. I am basing this on the MIND and NHS websites, and the DSM-V criterion (or like. the online summaries of it I’ve found). I also have discussed this with several people with personal experiences of trauma and PTSD. I really want to be respectful and true about my portrayal so if I say / do something that’s wrong please let me know!! 

TL;DR: Sherlock has experienced a lot of tramatic events in his life, and is currently in probably the worst point in terms of his mental health. 

Warning: discussion of abuse. Triggering content is referenced to in a lot of the links I’ve put in as well!

Criterion A: Traumatic event

I’m going to try and walk you guys through my thinking, based on three traumatic events in Sherlock’s life. I won’t be going in chronological order, nor in order of severity. The order is mostly the order he experiences the aftermath (?).

“ Trauma survivors must have been exposed to actual or threatened:

death

serious injury

sexual violence

The exposure can be:

direct

witnessed

indirect, by hearing of a relative or close friend who has experienced the event—indirectly experienced death must be accidental or violent

There is no longer a requirement that someone had to have an intense emotional response at the time of the event. ” [Source]

A point I want to make is that not everyone develops PTSD after a traumatic event, and there’s a difference between ‘normal’ stress reactions after trauma and the ongoing experiences of people with PTSD. There are other traumatic events which have happened in Sherlock’s life that haven’t contributed to his PTSD. 

1. After the fall

✔ Actual (prolonged) serious injury [direct]  ✔ Threatened death & sexual violence [direct] 

So it’s canon that Sherlock went on a mission to destroy Moriarty, and it’s canon that he was tortured (the extent to which is left up to us). We see him being beaten and with lacerations all over his back in Serbia, where Mycroft has gone in himself to extract him. Only drastic circumstances would cause Mycroft Holmes to ‘wade in’ as he put it. Something went wrong.

Now Sherlock would have had some idea what he was getting into, taking down a huge criminal network. But he wasn’t in control when he was kidnapped and tortured (multiple times, in multiple ways). He may have escaped, he may have purposefully got caught in some cases, but torture is still torture. He probably didn’t know that Mycroft was coming to get him. It’s one thing to be suicidal (something I’ll touch on later and in other posts), another to be threatened with death. 

Sherlock is not the same when he returns to London. His manic energy has an edge of paranoia. Moriarty haunts him in his mind palace (illustrated in multiple episodes). He’s not really coping (hence the relapse after a stint of stability and sobreity during s1&2), and the trauma is renewed during S4, which I will now get into. 

2. Eurus & the murder maze

✔ Actual death [witnessed / indirect] ✔  Threatened death & serious injury [direct & witnessed]

This part I’m more hazy on as I’m still working on a timeline and story of what happened exactly. The fact that Sherlock has repressed all memory of Eurus also affects this -- what does he actually know? Did he know that she killed Victor* or did he just know that she hurt him in some way? Either way, he lost someone very close to him in a very traumatic way. On top of this, Eurus spent a lot of time making threats on Sherlock’s life. 

The effects of the trauma from this part of his life is seriously delayed. It has a part to play in his self harming behaviour and drug use. It has a part to play in his BPD. But because he has only started to even remember the trauma properly after visiting Sherrinford, the trauma is affecting him the most. The events that took place during the murder maze definitely made things worse, as flashbacks kept on being triggered while he was also under a lot of stress (watching people he cared about and strangers be killed and threatened). 

This compounds upon the trauma from the fall, but also brings back his childhood trauma from Eurus (as above) and from his father (below)

3. Abuse

Childhood abuse is slightly different when it comes to PTSD, as it can sometimes lead to Complex PTSD. Complex PTSD is caused by repeated exposure to traumatic events like abuse, and symptoms can develop a long time after the event itself. 

Sherlock’s father was emotionally and occasionally physically abusive. This included constant criticism, threats, emotional neglect, ignoring him, and unreasonably punishing him. He never said anything kind or positive, no matter what Sherlock achieved. The physical abuse was mostly as a form of cruel punishment, but as he got older it became a way for his father to vent frustrations. Siger only wanted one son, and only saw Sherlock as a nuisance, a burden. Unwanted. 

This culminated when Sherlock pointed out his father’s affair at the dinnertable. His mother kicked his father out after that, along with the discovery of his treatment of Sherlock. His abuse had begun to affect their relationship too, with manipulation and controlling behaviour replacing any love and affection. Sherlock blames himself for his parent’s divorce.

It’s a major contributor to his BPD and lack of self worth. This part of his life has shaped who he is, how he behaves, and how he sees the world. It drives him to try and stop bad things from happening to others, but also drives his destructive behaviour towards himself and his relationships. 

Complex PTSD is made worse by:

the traumatic events happened early in life

the trauma was caused by a parent or carer

the person experienced the trauma for a long time

the person was alone during the trauma

there is still contact with the person responsible for the trauma.

These all apply, but Sherlock has had some therapy to try and help with this trauma specifically. As a result, he only experiences symptoms like flashbacks and panic attacks when he sees his father (not every time, however) or possibly when discussing him. 

Symptoms

Below is a list of symptoms / criteria for PTSD. I’ve put in brackets which events he most experiences those symptoms for, and I’ve put ‘BPD’ next to symptoms that overlap with borderline personality disorder.

Criterion B: Intrusion or Re-experiencing

These symptoms envelope ways that someone re-experiences the event. This could look like:

Intrusive thoughts or memories  ✔ (All)

Nightmares related to the traumatic event  ✔ (1 & 2)

Flashbacks, feeling like the event is happening again  ✔ (2 & 3)

Psychological and physical reactivity to reminders of the traumatic event, such as an anniversary (e.g. being triggered by specific events)   ✔ (2 & 3)

Criterion C: Avoidant symptoms

Avoidant symptoms describe ways that someone may try to avoid any memory of the event, and must include one of the following:

Avoiding thoughts or feelings connected to the traumatic event  ✔ (1 & 2)

Avoiding people or situations connected to the traumatic event  ✔ (2 & 3)

Criterion D: Negative alterations in mood or cognitions

This criterion is new, but captures many symptoms that have long been observed by PTSD sufferers and clinicians. Basically, there is a decline in someone’s mood or though patterns, which can include:

Memory problems that are exclusive to the event  ✔ (2)

Negative thoughts or beliefs about one’s self or the world  ✔ (All / BPD)

Distorted sense of blame for one’s self or others, related to the event  ✔ (2)

Being stuck in severe emotions related to the trauma (e.g. horror, shame, sadness)  ✔ (2)

Severely reduced interest in pre-trauma activities 

Feeling detached, isolated or disconnected from other people  ✔ (BPD)

Criterion E: Increased arousal symptoms

Increased arousal symptoms are used to describe the ways that the brain remains “on edge,” wary and watchful of further threats. Symptoms include the following:

Difficulty concentrating  ✔ 

Irritability, increased temper or anger  ✔ (BPD)

Difficulty falling or staying asleep  ✔

Hypervigilance  ✔ (1)

Being easily startled

Subtype: Dissociation

Dissociation has now been set apart from the symptom clusters, and now its presence can be specified. While there are several types of dissociation, only two are included in the DSM:

Depersonalization, or feeling disconnected from oneself  ✔ (BPD / 2)

Derealization, a sense that one’s surroundings aren’t real ✔ (1 & 2)

Other problems

Many people with PTSD also have a number of other problems, including:

other mental health problems – such as depression, anxiety or phobias ✔ (BPD)

self-harming or destructive behaviour – such as drug misuse or alcohol misuse  ✔ (BPD)

BPD & PTSD together

There is controversy in the medical / psychological field about the difference between BPD and PTSD and the diagnosis of both. They are very closely linked, and have a lot of overlap (as seen above). Studies have shown that the two often co-occur. I make the personal distiction that BPD also has a strong fear of abandonment which isn’t part of PTSD, and has more severe personality and identity issues. Obviously mental health isn’t clear cut so symptoms aren’t experienced as ‘oh, this is BPD, and this is PTSD’. 

#headcanon #long ass post #this is over 1500 words #i could have written my lab report instead but no #w e w #i'll be making two more big long posts at some point #one about his university experience #and one about specific triggers and how he copes #me writing this: too dramatic #me also: most of the stuff that's happened is canon?? wtf

[unillustratedadventures]

The Advice is to Label Your Abuse and Your Abuser: To Do the Latter is to Act Just Like an Abuser

Rae Lynn, Meredith Miller, Richard Grannon, and Big Brother Jay express (among other things) both the sentiment that labelling and accepting the narcissistic abuse is healing, and the sentiment that labelling your abuser is healing. But only the former kind of healing is healing worth having. Labelling your abuser just for the sake of healing veers perilously close to the reality-denying tactics of narcissists themselves.

After narcissistic abuse, one part of the cognitive dissonance and obsessiveness comes from the lies, the gaslighting, and the blameshifting. In this area, a major step in healing comes from accepting that what happened was narcissistic abuse, and that the damage that you’re left with, and how you’ve reacted, are normal effects of this form of abuse. What this person did to you was wrong. You are not crazy, obsessive, over-reacting, too intense, and so on.

However, another big part of the cognitive dissonance and obsessiveness revolves around the abuser’s true intentions and true feelings. You are confused, and your head is clogged up with all of these intrusive thoughts about what it all meant, and especially what you meant to your abuser. It’s difficult to prevent yourself from ruminating on all of these unresolved contradictions. Your mind is invaded by vivid and painful memories of the contradictory things that were said—claims about you and your abuser’s feelings towards you that come from precisely opposite extremes—and of the severe mismatch between your abuser’s words and actions. Accordingly, much of the closure that is withheld from you, which you need in order to heal properly and move on in a normal way, consists in knowledge of your abuser’s true intentions and true feelings.

It’s in service of this need that targets are advised to fully accept ‘who the abuser really is’. Targets are advised to come to terms with the fact that their abusers were narcissists, or psychopaths, or people with Cluster B personality disorders more generally. In other words, targets are advised to accept that their abusers had specific toxic and disordered intentions, that their abusers are unlikely to change, and that any contact with their abusers is likely to be exploited and only lead to further harm.

As painful as this judgement would be, it would certainly help to resolve all of that confusion about your abuser’s true intentions and true feelings towards you. But there’s a difference between labelling and accepting the narcissistic abuse, and judging that your abuser falls under a specific label—e.g., that your abuser is a narcissist, or a psychopath, or what have you. How could you possibly know this for sure? How could you even know whether your abuser is a narcissistic abuser (i.e., one who tends to narcissistically abuse) simpliciter? You can know for sure that you were narcissistically abused, because narcissistic abuse is all about how you were treated. It has nothing to do with why you were treated in this way. Perhaps this narcissistic abuse occurred because of peculiarities of your specific case. Admittedly, this is the less likely possibility. But it is possible. E.g., perhaps your abuser was himself recenly traumatised, was suffering through PTSD, and either did not know this fact or couldn’t bring himself to admit it to you. To suggest such a possibility is not to suggest an excuse for the fact that you were narcissistically abused, or to let your abuser off the hook. There is no excuse. My point is just that your healing should be moving you closer to the truth and closer to reality; not farther away from it.

I have no doubt that in some cases there really is sufficient evidence for a pervasive pattern of mistreatment. In such a case, the healing that comes from recognising the underlying problem with your abuser, and labelling your abuser accordingly, would be well worth it. But my concern is that by labelling your abuser purely for the sake of your own healing, you are doing exactly the sort of thing that genuine narcissists do. You are characterising or judging an entire person in a certain way, purely to satisfy your own immediate needs—in this case, your normal need to heal from the narcissistic abuse. You are discounting the possibility that there are transient contextual factors involved, and you are instead attributing all of the causes to inflexible, essential properties of your abuser. This is the fundamental attribution bias run amok. It is at the heart of the defense mechanism of splitting, which drives a narcissist’s abrupt shifts between idealisation and devaluation. It’s what narcissists do.

This should concern you. It should not be so easy for a healthy person to develop a firm belief about the nature of another person, purely in the service of an immediate emotional need. I suspect that the only reason victims of abuse do tend to form such convictions about their abusers, on the basis of insufficient evidence, is because of the psychological and emotional damage that their abusers have done to them. They are so traumatised that mildly psychotic beliefs become possible, as a mechanism of defense. In this way, labelling your abuser is a function of your trauma—and evidence for that trauma’s persistence—rather than a step in your healing from that trauma. It is a quick fix, and, like a great many quick fixes, it is a toxic one.

Worse, it is a quick fix of the narcissistic kind. You are labelling your abuser’s nature without sufficient evidence, purely to service your immediate emotional needs. Do not stoop to your abuser’s level; do not become the very force that has hurt you in the first place. Indeed, the underlying narcissistic strategy is to cope with one’s own trauma by repressing the trauma and becoming an abuser. This isn’t quite that. But it isn’t worlds away from it either.

By all means, confront and accept the fact that you were narcissistically abused. The evidence for narcissistic abuse is exhausted by your abuser’s actions towards you and his treatment of you. In almost every case, you will be able to conclusively observe your abuser’s toxic refusal to deal with you evenly and fairly; his coercive control of you; his stonewalling and rages; his cheating and lying; and, most importantly, his idealisation of you, devaluation of you, and discarding of you. You can conclusively see that you were treated with cruelty; treated like an object. But in many cases—perhaps most cases—you will not have conclusive evidence that your abuser is a narcissist or a psychopath… or even a narcissistic abuser in any broader sense.

Try to remain grounded in reality, and base your beliefs on the evidence that is available to you. Try to avoid making judgements about the nature of your abuser just because it will help you to heal and move on. I know all too well that such a judgement would help a great deal, at least in the short term, in resolving some of that cognitive dissonance. This might be very tempting; so tempting that you might not be able to help yourself. However, by doing this, you would only be solving the problem by sweeping it under the rug. If all you know for sure is that your abuser has behaved like a narcissist or a psychopath, try to avoid making that further unsupported leap, and labelling your abuser a ‘narcissist’ or a ‘psychopath’. By labelling your abuser in this way just to help yourself heal, you would be helping yourself to the dirty tricks of narcissists and psychopaths themselves.

Be better than that.

#narcissistic abuse #healing #idealize devalue discard #idealise devalue discard #emotional abuse #labelling #idealization #idealisation #devaluation #narcissistic abuse cycle #splitting #evidence #critical thinking #self-delusion

[ohallthecrushes]

Personal stuff under the line, venting about my life. Mention of mental problems, don’t read if it triggers you!

Over a year ago i decided to leave my abusive and narcissistic mother and try to live on my own. It’s not going very well to say the least.

I’m stuck in awful job that’s not for me, I get a rocket everyday (especially from one person that’s just being mean to me, like calling me a stupid girl for not understanding simple (for her) orders), everyday I am reminded that I’m not good for this job and I do a lot of mistakes that just stressing me out so much that I’m having arrhythmia as a reaction to thoughts that today I’d probably do something wrong and I’m gonna be roared up for it later. I don’t feel good working with people and I’m not good with people anyway and this job requires having good social abilities and other things that I just don’t have in me (like organization or multitasking).

I work at 12 hours shifts, I’m overworked and underpaid.

Lately I’ve started hiding in a bathroom in my workplace when things get really bad and I hit my head against the wall to reduce some stress and maybe fix myself... cause maybe if I hit my head hard enough then I’d stop being so stupid...

I also (if i can’t go and hide in a bathroom) dig my nails into my skin until I bleed. And bounce my legs like Arthur does.

I feel a lot like Arthur, you know. I don’t have to have a laughing fit to scare people away, I scare them away with... well just being me. I’m autistic and have ADHD and depression. And probably you don’t believe it, but people get offended when I can’t look them in the eye. They also expect me to guess what they think/mean, as reading their minds, and I can’t do that and they get angry because I don’t figure out something they’re thinking about.

My sense of humor is dark and sometimes inappropriate. That’s an issue too. I don’t mean to be mean or too dark, but I can’t lie (my first reaction is to be honest and tell the truth) and I’m a little naive thinking that people don’t lie to me either. I don’t know how to do small talks (and apparently talking about serial killers or giving a random fact, don’t count as good small talk). I can’t control my tone or my facial expression which cause a lot of misunderstandings and wrong interpretation (I have a resting bitch face and sometimes my voice sounds cold or angry). I can’t stood up for myself and when I try I’m being yelled at or they say that I don’t have rights to do that. And when I start to cry they call me immature, but when I try to hide my tears behind a smile, they call me weird.

I can’t focus on things and my short-term memory is very short, I forget people’s names the second they tell me. My energy is totally chaotic and it’s hard for me to be still for long.

I live with my family for now, because I didn’t have anywhere to go after I’d left my mother’s house. They want me to move out and start to live on my own, and as much as I’d like to do that, I can’t afford to rent anything. Besides I don’t thing I’m gonna keep my current job for long... They don’t understand me or my depression, they don’t think it’s a disease and they often say that I just don’t try hard enough... But I’m trying my best and I’m working hard. And it’s still not hard or good enough for them...

They weren’t even bothered to look up what autism is, even though I asked them to do that and sent them articles about it.

My family is very nervous and impulsive with words, which is something I can’t work with when we start to argue. When I want to talk calmly and use logic and arguments, they tend to use emotions and they raise their voice (i have ptsd and i start to panic when someone yells at me, thanks to my mother for that).

I don’t think they can comprehend what mental problems are and how to deal with it. And I don’t think they want to learn. Once they caught me cutting myself and they reaction was to yell at me, because I was bleeding on a carpet... Can you imagine that? You have a mental breakdown, you’re in the middle of self-harming and your family see that and they yell at you, calling you selfish and stupid, and threaten you that they’ll send you to a mental hospital, because they don’t want to see you do that.

I don’t have any friends or anyone who I can talk to about personal stuff. my social life don’t exist outside of internet. I’m all alone, unloved, unworthy, not good enough and too weird. I have a therapist, but we talk only once every few weeks and it’s not often enough, but I can’t afford for more frequent therapy sessions.

I have my meds... But I don’t feel like they work at all sometimes.

I imagine having friends and boyfriend (Arthur <3), and that’s my escaping mechanism. If I could I’d spend all day in my head, imagining alternative worlds and making up stories.

I sometimes imagine that my biggest dream come true (being a movie director, making stories from my head into reality), but it’s making me sad mostly, because I long for it so much, but I know it’ll never come true.

I don’t know what I live for. I don’t know how to live in this world. I have no one to live for either. It really would be better if I just don’t exist at all. If I just stop existing.

#personal #i just had to get it off my chest #autism problems #adhd problems #my awful life #depression thoughts

[riddlez213]

As I write this it is the end of summer and while I have had a little break and have had some fun I knew my coming back was inevitable because while I love what I do on this blog and what I do outside of it with the same skill set I thought it would be a great idea to do something different. I’m going to find out the backstory of Heath Ledger’s Joker. I am a huge comicbook fan and I love Batman for not only his amazing detective skills not put forth in many works but also his rogues gallery and every character’s amazing psyche. And then there is the best comicbook movie of all time “The Dark Knight” and it goes astray from the source material with a perfect and in some way better interpretation of the Joker played by Heath Ledger. But as the original Joker is this one also has a lack of backstory even more so that the original and for the 10 years after its release people have theorized and theorized without much skill into case work and they’ve gotten pretty far but today I put forth my theory or theories depending on how you look at it and with actual evidence that is solid and a little bit of assumption but not nearly as much as some theories on this go. In the movie he kills 28 to 35 people so definitely on the mass murder scale but also displays signs of something far sinister with his preference of knives making him seem more like a serial killer. His ratio of actual intelligence and social manipulativeness and also other display signs of antisocial personality disorder puts him on the definite psychopath side but some aspects such as sexual promiscuity and superficial charm are not present and also his teenage and marriage history isn’t known but I would assume that he would have had trouble as a teenager especially if he was indeed abused in his childhood. so this doesn’t actually put him at the top of the psychopath spectrum but it is worse because he doesn’t care about anyone from his nihilist point of view including himself. He sees himself as a vessel that chaos can come from or be a part of. This means he doesn’t care about hygiene or his looks in the traditional sense. He very much does care about his looks but he doesn’t want to be seen as attractive he wants to be seen as crazy or a freak because he doesn’t believe himself to be and wants to show people how they are the same as him but also in doing that they would realize they are extremely crazy just like him. So technically speaking he isn’t completely psychopathic just like he tries to make sure he is undiagnosable to not only show that every system is a list of flaws but also that he is unpredictable and represents uncertainty. Many comic book characters follow a similar path such as the punisher, batman, and I’m sure many others. Regardless he would definitely be leveled as legally insane but possibly not in our world but I’ll get to that in a moment. Legally insane means that you were not aware of your actions in the event of a crime and is a very slim amount of courthouse cases that it is even discussed in. Especially since on the outside it is hard to not identify him as crazy but instead is extremely intelligent and an amazing specimen of research if it is even possible. In the DC universe these terms seem to be tossed around more and it is probably because there are a lot more criminals out there than in this world and also that they have more faith in their treatment because of Arkham Asylum’s large amount of support financially and in terms of workers. In this world he is obviously not insane because although he is aware of his actions he doesn’t really know right from wrong because of his hatred for all people but in a way he does still know right and wrong and this is obviously not a case of him not aware of his own actions because he isn’t say a schizophrenic. From how “The Dark Knight Rises” was suppose to go before the death of Heath Ledger the Joker was definitely going to bust out of Arkham and face batman again and even if he was put in a mental hospital the first time around in this world the second time he wouldn’t be so lucky because if they keep putting him in an asylum and he keeps breaking out we would just execute his ass and batman wouldn’t even have to worry about breaking his one rule. This would especially be showing how intelligent he is in order to escape and he could possibly escape from Blackgate prison or one of our real world prisons I don’t know. Another aspect I think might be apparent in this joker is his “hypersanity” which in the comics is joker’s ability to realize he’s in a comicbook which could be true. He could realize he’s in a movie or comicbook as well because if there are infinite parallel universes like theoretical physics suggests then there is a parallel universe where he is in a comicbook or a movie and this is the one where he is in a movie. In fact there is a universe where you are in a comicbook or where we are all in a comicbook and to him it makes everything a joke and if we all thought like that all the time we would be in the same purple shoes he is. Alright enough on the criminal profile I think it’s time for some actual possible origins. The first thing I looked at were the scars. They are hypertrophic scars and his scars are actually called a glasgow smile that was actually in the Black Dahlia case and a few other famous ones. It is usually followed with a stabbing or kick to the stomach so when the victim screams they rip the “smile” open so if we saw him shirtless and saw that it would be a definite 99% proof he did not do this to himself. but instead I will have to go with 98%. Here are pictures of the scars

The red circles indicate the tearing of the actual cuts themselves. The black is just a cut below the mouth that seems accidental. And overall both sides of the smile are not even. This seems to have been done by a different person or people because if he did this himself he would have obviously used a mirror and wouldn’t make these mistakes if he would have taken his time. These type of scars take 3 years to heal. This means he had at least 3 years before he went to go create chaos in Gotham. We know that the Joker had only been active from the end of batman begins into the dark knight because at the end of batman begins Gordon shows Batman a Joker card explaining who he is briefly. So this means he had his scars before he even considered himself the Joker. As Gordon shows Batman the card he explains how Batman could make way for villains with a taste for the theatrical like him which is a perfect segue into saying that Joker probably saw what scarecrow and Batman did in Batman Begins and in seeing there are other “freaks” out there became one himself and it is deeply embedded in the comics that there can be no batman without joker and vice versa. But how does Batman use all his detective skills (although most of the tech he used was incorrect in terms of forensics) and still not be able to identify the Joker? Well everything about him had been deleted without a trace. But how does someone achieve this in the real world? Well in a missing persons case or some other crime someone is obviously missing and after 7 to 8 years they are considered legally dead but even if you are legally dead you were still once a person and therefore still have records. The most likely of something like this to happen would come from the government or even the military because they are the system and they do it all the time. That brings me to the theory itself. I believe that the Joker was indeed a soldier overseas but instead was tortured by his fellow soldiers for probably doing something they didn’t agree with probably brought about through something he did morally whether it be not allowing something illegal to happen or killing an innocent person on purpose. either way he is tortured and given his scars and left for dead and erased from ever existing. He survives and makes his way back to society whether he ran from home to Gotham or lived there originally. He then becomes homeless living on the streets until discovering someone he relates to: Batman. He then finds his way through the ranks of the criminal underworld messing with the rest of the mob and eventually making the bank heist we see in the beginning of The Dark Knight. This is why in the beginning of the movie we see all the crime bosses discuss who stole their money and Salvatore Maroni states “Stupid whack job, wears a cheap purple suit and makeup. He’s not the problem.” And we even see this cheap purple suit in the beginning where the threading is even coming undone because of its age in the bank heist. You can even tell how different the makeup looks when he is in the bank heist to when he is talking to the crime bosses with his famous pencil trick. Also in the interrogation scene he states “what would I do without you go back to ripping off mob dealers?” implying that he had done it multiple times in the past. This even explains why he says to two face he only did everything with some gas and a couple of bullets because in his mind that’s what it felt like to him and it persuades the audience and two face because overall it didn’t seem like a lot of actual traditional power even though we see a rocket launcher and 28 to 35 dead. This would add even more to the idea he suffers PTSD making it extremely possible he doesn’t even remember where he came from like he is in the comics. And PTSD can effects the hippocampus creating short term and long term memory loss. He even states he is like a dog chasing cars and that he wouldn’t know what to do if he caught one. But something else that I found very interesting is that he definitely knows who Batman is because also in the interrogation scene he says to Batman “You know for a while there I thought you really were Dent. The way you threw yourself after her.” and “Does Harvey know about you and his little…” and finally “choose between one wife or the other. Your friend district attorney or his blushing bride to be.” The reason he knows torture methods is probably because he did it while he was in war because he tells batman not to start with the head when batman bangs his head against the table. In fact him wanting to be a clown or freak possibly comes from how he may have been viewed in war with his fellow soldiers. He could have even been, in a way, similar to or the same as the comedian in The Watchmen comics since they both share the same ideology. This means since his second explanation of his scars was false then the other one is probably false too. But he still mentions how he hated his father when even not talking about his scars and it seems likely a psychopath like him came from that kind of background because most psychopaths come from that. When he states that even when a truck load of soldiers is blown up it’s all part of the plan that is probably because he witnessed it happen but he would have looked a lot different if that happened to him. In the dark knight manual it states the GCPD think he could have been an Arkham escapee and a victim or Dr. Krane (Scarecrow). This is possible but I don’t think Joker is very afraid of everything and Arkham wouldn’t really have the ability to erase records from existence and in fact they would probably have copies of all of it. So what do you think? Do I seem correct or just as crazy as Joker himself? What would you like me to investigate next? I say this was definitely a fun thing to work on.

  -Riddlez

File 19: The Joker Files As I write this it is the end of summer and while I have had a little break and have had some fun I knew my coming back was inevitable because while I love what I do on this blog and what I do outside of it with the same skill set I thought it would be a great idea to do something different.

[microhealthllc]

Move over, pot: Ketamine, MDMA are potential treatments for depression and PTSD

Written By: Neha Ogale

August 11, 2017

Major depressive disorder (MDD) is among today’s most debilitating chronic illnesses, mental or physical. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that over 300 million people worldwide suffer from MDD, but fewer than half receive treatment – the rates are as low as 10 percent (often lower) in some countries. Depression is a master of stealth cloaked in social stigma and misinformation: Silent yet ruthless in its destructive path, MDD claims nearly 800,000 lives to suicide each year, making it the second leading cause of death among people ages 15-29.

In the United States alone, depression is the leading cause of disability among those ages 15-44. The Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA) reported that in 2014, 15.7 million adults had experienced at least one major depressive episode in the past year. At any point in time, 3 to 5 percent of adults suffer from major depression, and the overall lifetime risk is about 17 percent. The situation is dire, and the outlook bleak: The National Center for Health Statistics revealed that suicide rates in the U.S. have soared to a 30-year high, increasing by 63 percent among women and 43 percent among men.

If MDD is a silent killer, then post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is its wayward cousin: More sinister, more terrifying and more than willing to crash the party. The Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) estimates that 7 to 8 percent of the U.S. population will develop PTSD at some point in their lives, and as many as 8 million U.S. adults have the disorder in any given year. According to the WHO, the prevalence of PTSD is about 3.6 percent worldwide; it is especially common in war-torn areas of the Middle East and Africa. Combat veterans suffer at an even higher rate than civilians: the RAND Center for Military Health Policy reported that 20 percent of veterans who served in Iraq or Afghanistan suffer from either major depression or PTSD.

The evolution of treatments: We’ve come a long way since bloodletting

DEPRESSION HAS TAKEN CENTURIES TO DECIPHER

Humans have been trying to explain bouts of the blues or “melancholia” since ancient times. For centuries, the sad mood, fatigue and feelings of hopelessness accompanying depression were thought to be a result of bodily fluids (especially “black bile”) or demonic possession. Not until the 17th century was depression even considered to be a disease of the mind. The idea that MDD could be a mental disorder was pioneered by an English neurologist named Thomas Willis, regarded by many as the father of neuroscience.

Ancient people’s bizarre explanations for depression were matched by their equally outlandish remedies. Induced vomiting or bloodletting – as in, cutting open the skin to supposedly let the “bad blood” out – were among some of the more gruesome approaches to treatment. Other, fairly innocuous (if fruitless) methods included diet, exercise and herbal remedies.

The first real venture into technology-based treatment came in the 20th century with the introduction of electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) in 1938. Also known as shock therapy, it was widely considered to be the only effective modern treatment for depression at the time. One round of ETC is effective in about 50 percent of people with treatment-resistant MDD. The procedure, however, may be accompanied by side effects such as memory loss, disorientation, nausea and muscle pain. ETC machines have been categorized high risk by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA), earning a place in the Class III category.

Some years later, scientists began their foray into pharmacological approaches to treating depression. In 1958, their efforts yielded the introduction of iproniazid: the first drug of the monoamine-oxidase inhibitor (MAOI) series. MAOIs prevent the enzymatic breakdown of norepinephrine, a neurotransmitter involved in emotional stimulation. Iproniazid was temporarily hailed as an effective treatment until it was found to cause liver damage in 1961.

However, hope was not yet lost: Just before iproniazid burst onto the pharmaceutical scene, another drug called imipramine was discovered to treat depression in 1957. It was the first drug discovered belonging to the class of tricyclic antidepressants; “tricyclic” refers to the three-ringed molecular structure of the drug. Its side effects were markedly less severe, though still present in the form of dry mouth and blurred vision among other discomforts.

Studying MAOIs and tricyclic antidepressants gave rise to the development of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). Serotonin is a neurotransmitter that regulates mood, appetite and sleep, and triggers hormones like oxytocin that are associated with feelings of trust. Scientists discovered that in addition to norepinephrine deficiency, depleted amounts of serotonin and dopamine (a neurotransmitter that produces feelings of pleasure) can cause depression. The first SSRI to hit the market was fluoxetine, better known by its brand name Prozac. Introduced in 1987, the drug became an almost instantaneous success, so much so that by 1990, 2 million people were taking it worldwide.

Three decades and five presidents later, the popularity of SSRIs has hardly declined: The Mayo Clinic reported that 70 percent of Americans take some type of prescription drug and approximately 13 percent are on antidepressants.

PTSD TREATMENT HAS TAKEN A MUCH SHORTER PATH

PTSD is considered a comorbid disorder, which means that it often occurs in conjunction with other disorders.  For example, a combat veteran with PTSD is likely to also suffer from depression, anxiety or alcohol/substance abuse problems. Unlike depression, however, PTSD is a relatively new entity in psychiatrics. It slowly began getting attention in the 1970s and 80s during the aftermath of the Vietnam War and the rise of the women’s rights movement.

The return of battle-hardened troops was instrumental in prompting recognition and awareness of PTSD, which was commonly referred to as “shell shock” to describe traumatized veterans of war. Meanwhile, women all over the country were growing emboldened: Scores of survivors found the courage to voice their harrowing accounts of domestic violence and sexual assault, horrors that had been previously swept under the rug in fear of retribution. The frenzied circulation of these reports sent shockwaves across the nation. In 1974, Ann Burgess and Lynda Lytle Holmstrom of the Boston Medical Center penned an article called “Rape Trauma Syndrome.” For the first time, the plight of women was featured in the public spotlight, further paving the way toward trauma awareness and intervention.

Finally, in 1980 the American Psychiatric Association (APA) added PTSD to its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Third Edition (DSM-III). Since then, the diagnostic criteria for PTSD have undergone several revisions. The most recent and consequential change appeared in the DSM-5, where PTSD was no longer classified as an anxiety disorder; it now falls under the category of trauma- and stressor-related disorders.

Once PTSD was officially legitimized as a psychiatric illness, the approach to treatment became much clearer. To reiterate from earlier, PTSD has a high rate of comorbidity, often accompanied by MDD. So, there was much less experimentation among psychopharmacologists in the search for the perfect chemical concoction: It was already available in the form of SSRIs, which remain the most common drug treatment for PTSD.

Still, drug interventions varied (and still do) case by case. In the past, benzodiazepines – tranquilizers, sleeping aids or anxiolytics – have been prescribed for rapid anxiety relief, but are associated with dependence. Antipsychotics are among some of the more useful drug treatments as they ease the agitation, dissociation and paranoia that accompany PTSD. Mood stabilizers, though less effective than antipsychotics, are also useful.

Cognitive behavior therapy (CBT), in conjunction with prescription drugs, is found to be the most effective long and short-term treatment. It focuses on identifying, understanding and changing thinking and behavior patterns, and usually lasts 12 to 16 weeks.

Exposure therapy is one form of CBT. It desensitizes patients to their trauma over time by exposing them to traumatic memories in a controlled environment. This might entail mental imagery, writing or visiting places that remind patients of their trauma. The use of virtual reality is gaining popularity as well. One non-CBT treatment that may be effective is stress inoculation training (SIT), which reduces anxiety by teaching coping skills like breathing retraining and muscle relaxation. SIT aims to teach patients to react differently to symptoms and triggers.

Ketamine: From clubgoers’ kryptonite to rapid-acting antidepressant

Though they have no doubt lined the pockets of pharmaceutical companies, antidepressants are not a miracle drug. They typically take four to eight weeks to start working; symptoms often worsen before starting to improve. As a matter of fact, only 35 percent of people taking SSRIs experience full remission and 30 percent are what psychiatrists call “treatment-resistant.” This means that 5 million people taking antidepressants do not respond adequately – if at all – to the available treatments.

The shortcomings of modern antidepressants coupled with a drive for innovation has led scientists to investigate novel methods of treating MDD. Their answer? Ketamine.

Discovered in 1962, ketamine hydrochloride – better known as just ketamine – is a general anesthetic used for short-term diagnostic and surgical procedures. It was originally developed as a fast-acting replacement for the drug phencyclidine (PCP). A dissociative anesthetic, ketamine is arguably more famous for its psychedelic properties than for its use as a numbing agent. The drug, dubbed “Special K” in the streets, quickly rose to prominence in the party scene of the 1980s.

Even today, ketamine remains a somewhat popular choice among recreational drug users. In 2013, the National Survey on Drug Use and Health reported that 12 percent of people ages 18-25 had used ketamine in their lifetime, and 6 percent in the past year. So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that ketamine is one of the most strictly regulated psychedelic drugs on the market today: The DEA classifies it as a Schedule III controlled substance.

HOW IT WORKS

Drugs are exogenous substances, which means they occur outside the body. They are classified as agonists (meaning they act like or enhance the effects of certain neurotransmitters) or antagonists (meaning they block or counteract the effects of certain neurotransmitters). Ketamine is the latter: It blocks NMDA receptors (structures on brain cells whose membrane is permeable to calcium) for glutamate, an excitatory neurotransmitter involved in cognitive functions such as learning and memory.

The effects are almost immediate, appearing within ten minutes of taking the drug. Ketamine’s hallucinogenic effects last about 60 minutes when it is injected, and up to two hours when taken orally. These effects, however, are different from those produced by classic psychedelic hallucinogens. The specific dissociative state that comes from taking ketamine is characterized by perceived detachment from one’s body, stripping users of their grip on reality and causing them to exist in a strange, dreamlike state. High doses of the drug can induce schizophrenia-like symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions – this extreme state of dissociation is dubbed the “K-hole” by many users, who regard it as a particularly bad trip.

WHAT THE RESEACH SHOWS

In 2013, the American Journal of Psychiatry published a study on the antidepressant efficacy of ketamine in treatment-resistant major depression. The researchers designed a double-blind, randomized controlled trial comparing the effects of a single infusion of ketamine to an active placebo in the form of the anesthetic agent midazolam. The researchers recruited 73 subjects with treatment-resistant depression experiencing a major depressive episode: a two-week period over which someone experiences symptoms of MDD.

The treatment group received one IV infusion of ketamine while the control group received one IV infusion of midazolam. The primary outcome to be measured was a change in the severity of depression symptoms 24 hours post-treatment, assessed by the Montgomery-Åsberg Depression Rating Scale (MADRS). The researchers found that the treatment group showed greater improvement in their MADRS scores than did the control group. Those who received the ketamine infusion scored 7.95 points lower on the MADRS overall.

Of course, research with ketamine has raised concerns regarding its safety and potential toxicity. Some researchers have expressed qualms over impact on brain structure and function. In 2015, a team of researchers decided to investigate these claims and published their findings in the Journal of Neuropsychopharmacology. Their study examined the neurocognitive effects of ketamine and its association with antidepressant response in individuals with treatment-resistant depression.

The researchers recruited 62 individuals ages 21-80 diagnosed with MDD. Each subject had a history of at least one previous major depressive episode before their current one, or had a chronic (at least 2-year-long) episode and a score of 32 on the Inventory of Depressive Symptomatology. The subjects underwent a series of neurocognitive tests at least a week before receiving treatment and again 7 days post-treatment. Among these tests were the Wechsler Memory Scale (WMS) Spatial Span, Brief Assessment of Cognition in Schizophrenia (BACS) Digit Symbol and the Hopkins Verbal Learning Test (HVLT).

The researchers randomly assigned the patients to either the treatment group or the control group. Over a span of 40 minutes, those in the treatment group were given a 0.5 mg/kg infusion of ketamine, while those in the control group received a 0.045 mg/kg infusion of midazolam. The patients were discharged 24 hours following the infusion, but were subject to outpatient evaluations at 48 and 72 hours and 7 days post-treatment. The change in severity of depression symptoms was assessed using the MADRS scale, with a categorical response defined as at least a 50 percent reduction in the score compared to pre-treatment.

In terms of cognitive effects, participants’ performance improved in terms of processing speed, verbal learning and visual learning across both the treatment and control condition. The researchers also discovered that poor processing speed at baseline was associated with an improved antidepressant response to ketamine at 24 hours post-treatment. Most importantly, the researchers found no evidence of adverse effects on neurocognitive functioning due to ketamine use.

MDMA: From accidental diet pill to promising new treatment for PTSD

In 1912, a German chemist by the name of Anton Köllisch developed what he had intended to be an appetite suppressant. It was patented in 1913 by Merck & Co., the company by whom he was employed. Turns out his diet pill was actually a chemical concoction called MDMA: a synthetic psychoactive drug that alters mood and perception. Also known as “ecstasy” (the tablet form of the drug) or “molly” (a so-called pure crystalline powder), MDMA is an amphetamine derivative whose chemical composition resembles that of stimulants and hallucinogens.

Unlike ketamine, MDMA has no use in medicine – according to the government, that is. After years of rising tensions toward the drug, the DEA classified it as a Schedule I controlled substance in 1985 due to its high potential for abuse, admittedly with good reason: The National Survey on Drug Use and Health reported that in 2015, 13.1 percent of adults ages 18-25 had used MDMA in their lifetime, with 4.1 percent having used it just in the past year. It isn’t difficult to understand the bureaucracy’s misgivings: Surely the clandestine powders and pills lurking in shadowy corners of raves and pockets of inner-city ruffians could serve no therapeutic purpose.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time the government was misconstrued in its suspicions. In the 1960s and 70s – long before it was criminalized – MDMA was legally prescribed in conjunction with psychotherapy because of its potential to work as a rapid-acting antidepressant. One notable advocate of the drug was the American chemist and psychopharmacologist Alexander Shulgin, who promoted its use in therapy to foster a sense of trust between therapist and patient. Outspoken and unorthodox in his practices, Shulgin himself was an occasional user of MDMA. He praised its stress-relieving properties and recommended it to his colleagues, devoting much of his career to psychoactive drug research.

HOW IT WORKS

When taken orally, a single dose of MDMA generates a rush of physiological and psychological effects in 30 to 45 minutes. MDMA is an agonist: It increases the activity of dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin in the brain. Optimum dosage produces a high lasting 3-6 hours on average, during which users report increased energy, pleasure and empathy or emotional warmth. These effects are a result of serotonin’s ability to trigger the release of oxytocin, which is often called the “cuddling hormone” because it increases feelings of trust and bonding.

This explains why Shulgin and others in his field encouraged the use of MDMA in psychotherapy, and why it would be useful in treating PTSD. Because MDMA improves the ability to categorize positive mental states such as friendliness and impairs the ability to categorize negative states like hostility and fear, it would increase communication and decrease fear response in patients. Some experts speculate that MDMA could also optimize exposure therapy by widening the window of tolerance: Patients would remain emotionally engaged with the therapist without succumbing to anxiety while revisiting traumatic memories.

Scientists have slowly begun recognizing MDMA’s potential to revolutionize trauma- and stress-related disorders. In 2016, the FDA approved a series of phase 3 clinical trials for PTSD research. This has drawn the attention of nonprofit research and educational organizations such as the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS). MAPS is currently funding pilot studies and clinical trials investigating the use of MDMA as a drug therapy for PTSD, social anxiety in autistic adults and anxiety in terminal illness.

WHAT THE RESEARCH SHOWS

In 2010, the Journal of Psychopharmacology published the first-ever completed clinical trial evaluating MDMA as a therapeutic supplement. The researchers randomly assigned 20 patients with chronic PTSD to either drug-assisted psychotherapy or an inactive placebo. Every subject in the treatment and control group underwent non-drug-assisted psychotherapy as both a preparatory and follow-up measure.

The primary outcome measure used was the Clinician-Administered PTSD Scale (CAPS), which was given at baseline, 4 days post-treatment and 2 months after the second session. The researchers found that the treatment group showed a significantly greater decrease in CAPS scores from baseline compared to the control group. The rate of clinical response was 83 percent in the treatment group compared to 25 percent in the control group.

Like most synthetic substances, MDMA can have devastating physiological effects if misused, wreaking havoc on the nervous system. The drug causes an upward spike in body temperature, which can induce hyperthermia. It can also cause excessive sweating and subsequent dehydration, blurred vision and more, potentially lethal consequences. However, the researchers found no adverse effects – neurocognitive or otherwise – or any clinically significant increases in blood pressure.

Two years later, in 2012, the Journal of Psychopharmacology published a smaller-scale pilot study examining the effect of MDMA-assisted psychotherapy on patients with treatment-resistant PTSD. The randomized, double-blind and active placebo controlled trial featured 12 patients who received treatment in three experimental sessions. These were alternated with weekly, non-drug-based psychotherapy sessions. The researchers administered MDMA in either a low dose (25 mg with 12.5 mg supplement) or a full dose (125 mg with 62.5 mg supplement). The patients showed statistically significant improvement on the self-reported Posttraumatic Diagnostic Scale (PDS).

These preliminary findings showed that MDMA-assisted psychotherapy can be safely administered in a clinical setting, corroborating the data that was gathered from the completed clinical trial from two years before.

Global impact: What this means for mental health worldwide

People tend to be shortsighted when discussing mental health; as Americans, it is especially easy for us to turn a blind eye to issues outside our own backyard. The WHO estimates that 20 percent of the world’s children and adolescents have mental disorders. Yet regions with the highest percentages of their population under age of 19 tend to have the greatest paucity of mental health resources: Low- and middle-income countries have only one child psychiatrist for every 1 to 4 million people.

This deficit represents the global inequity in the distribution of skilled human resources for mental health. The availability of psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers worldwide is scarce. According to the WHO, low-income countries have just 0.05 psychiatrists and 0.42 nurses for every 100,000 people. Comparatively, the rate of psychiatrists in high-income countries like the U.S. is 170 times greater. 

Mental health disorders are also a burden on global health, acting as risk factors for other diseases such as HIV, heart disease and diabetes. Psychiatric disorders quite literally come with a price: MDD alone costs the U.S. $210 billion a year in lost productivity, missed workdays and depression-related illnesses like anxiety, PTSD and sleep disorders. Suicide racks up an additional $1 billion. Clearly, mental illness affects us all whether we realize it or not, forcing us to bear that collective burden.  

Societal inadequacies in addressing mental health remain a key issue today. Stigma, discrimination and human rights violations against mentally ill patients are rampant, creating a barrier between healthcare accessibility and recovery. Scant financial resources only add fuel to the fire. However, the WHO estimates that implementing mental health services in low-income countries would only cost US$2 per capita per year, and only US$3-4 in lower middle-income countries. Doing so is only a matter of cooperation between the public and private sectors.

As a highly industrialized nation, we must use our power and influence to shape the future of mental health. With diligent research and systematic allocation of resources, cultivating the therapeutic power of recreational drugs could pave the way toward effective, inexpensive and widely accessible treatments on a global scale. The world is waiting.

via MicroHealth http://ift.tt/2vWKQTH phillip mazzotta

Written By: Neha Ogale

August 11, 2017

Major depressive disorder (MDD) is among today’s most debilitating chronic illnesses, mental or physical. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that over 300 million people worldwide suffer from MDD, but fewer than half receive treatment – the rates are as low as 10 percent (often lower) in some countries. Depression is a master of stealth cloaked in social stigma and misinformation: Silent yet ruthless in its destructive path, MDD claims nearly 800,000 lives to suicide each year, making it the second leading cause of death among people ages 15-29.

In the United States alone, depression is the leading cause of disability among those ages 15-44. The Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA) reported that in 2014, 15.7 million adults had experienced at least one major depressive episode in the past year. At any point in time, 3 to 5 percent of adults suffer from major depression, and the overall lifetime risk is about 17 percent. The situation is dire, and the outlook bleak: The National Center for Health Statistics revealed that suicide rates in the U.S. have soared to a 30-year high, increasing by 63 percent among women and 43 percent among men.

If MDD is a silent killer, then post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is its wayward cousin: More sinister, more terrifying and more than willing to crash the party. The Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) estimates that 7 to 8 percent of the U.S. population will develop PTSD at some point in their lives, and as many as 8 million U.S. adults have the disorder in any given year. According to the WHO, the prevalence of PTSD is about 3.6 percent worldwide; it is especially common in war-torn areas of the Middle East and Africa. Combat veterans suffer at an even higher rate than civilians: the RAND Center for Military Health Policy reported that 20 percent of veterans who served in Iraq or Afghanistan suffer from either major depression or PTSD.

The evolution of treatments: We’ve come a long way since bloodletting

DEPRESSION HAS TAKEN CENTURIES TO DECIPHER

Humans have been trying to explain bouts of the blues or “melancholia” since ancient times. For centuries, the sad mood, fatigue and feelings of hopelessness accompanying depression were thought to be a result of bodily fluids (especially “black bile”) or demonic possession. Not until the 17th century was depression even considered to be a disease of the mind. The idea that MDD could be a mental disorder was pioneered by an English neurologist named Thomas Willis, regarded by many as the father of neuroscience.

Ancient people’s bizarre explanations for depression were matched by their equally outlandish remedies. Induced vomiting or bloodletting – as in, cutting open the skin to supposedly let the “bad blood” out – were among some of the more gruesome approaches to treatment. Other, fairly innocuous (if fruitless) methods included diet, exercise and herbal remedies.

The first real venture into technology-based treatment came in the 20th century with the introduction of electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) in 1938. Also known as shock therapy, it was widely considered to be the only effective modern treatment for depression at the time. One round of ETC is effective in about 50 percent of people with treatment-resistant MDD. The procedure, however, may be accompanied by side effects such as memory loss, disorientation, nausea and muscle pain. ETC machines have been categorized high risk by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA), earning a place in the Class III category.

Some years later, scientists began their foray into pharmacological approaches to treating depression. In 1958, their efforts yielded the introduction of iproniazid: the first drug of the monoamine-oxidase inhibitor (MAOI) series. MAOIs prevent the enzymatic breakdown of norepinephrine, a neurotransmitter involved in emotional stimulation. Iproniazid was temporarily hailed as an effective treatment until it was found to cause liver damage in 1961.

However, hope was not yet lost: Just before iproniazid burst onto the pharmaceutical scene, another drug called imipramine was discovered to treat depression in 1957. It was the first drug discovered belonging to the class of tricyclic antidepressants; “tricyclic” refers to the three-ringed molecular structure of the drug. Its side effects were markedly less severe, though still present in the form of dry mouth and blurred vision among other discomforts.

Studying MAOIs and tricyclic antidepressants gave rise to the development of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). Serotonin is a neurotransmitter that regulates mood, appetite and sleep, and triggers hormones like oxytocin that are associated with feelings of trust. Scientists discovered that in addition to norepinephrine deficiency, depleted amounts of serotonin and dopamine (a neurotransmitter that produces feelings of pleasure) can cause depression. The first SSRI to hit the market was fluoxetine, better known by its brand name Prozac. Introduced in 1987, the drug became an almost instantaneous success, so much so that by 1990, 2 million people were taking it worldwide.

Three decades and five presidents later, the popularity of SSRIs has hardly declined: The Mayo Clinic reported that 70 percent of Americans take some type of prescription drug and approximately 13 percent are on antidepressants.

PTSD TREATMENT HAS TAKEN A MUCH SHORTER PATH

PTSD is considered a comorbid disorder, which means that it often occurs in conjunction with other disorders.  For example, a combat veteran with PTSD is likely to also suffer from depression, anxiety or alcohol/substance abuse problems. Unlike depression, however, PTSD is a relatively new entity in psychiatrics. It slowly began getting attention in the 1970s and 80s during the aftermath of the Vietnam War and the rise of the women’s rights movement.

The return of battle-hardened troops was instrumental in prompting recognition and awareness of PTSD, which was commonly referred to as “shell shock” to describe traumatized veterans of war. Meanwhile, women all over the country were growing emboldened: Scores of survivors found the courage to voice their harrowing accounts of domestic violence and sexual assault, horrors that had been previously swept under the rug in fear of retribution. The frenzied circulation of these reports sent shockwaves across the nation. In 1974, Ann Burgess and Lynda Lytle Holmstrom of the Boston Medical Center penned an article called “Rape Trauma Syndrome.” For the first time, the plight of women was featured in the public spotlight, further paving the way toward trauma awareness and intervention.

Finally, in 1980 the American Psychiatric Association (APA) added PTSD to its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Third Edition (DSM-III). Since then, the diagnostic criteria for PTSD have undergone several revisions. The most recent and consequential change appeared in the DSM-5, where PTSD was no longer classified as an anxiety disorder; it now falls under the category of trauma- and stressor-related disorders.

Once PTSD was officially legitimized as a psychiatric illness, the approach to treatment became much clearer. To reiterate from earlier, PTSD has a high rate of comorbidity, often accompanied by MDD. So, there was much less experimentation among psychopharmacologists in the search for the perfect chemical concoction: It was already available in the form of SSRIs, which remain the most common drug treatment for PTSD.

Still, drug interventions varied (and still do) case by case. In the past, benzodiazepines – tranquilizers, sleeping aids or anxiolytics – have been prescribed for rapid anxiety relief, but are associated with dependence. Antipsychotics are among some of the more useful drug treatments as they ease the agitation, dissociation and paranoia that accompany PTSD. Mood stabilizers, though less effective than antipsychotics, are also useful.

Cognitive behavior therapy (CBT), in conjunction with prescription drugs, is found to be the most effective long and short-term treatment. It focuses on identifying, understanding and changing thinking and behavior patterns, and usually lasts 12 to 16 weeks.

Exposure therapy is one form of CBT. It desensitizes patients to their trauma over time by exposing them to traumatic memories in a controlled environment. This might entail mental imagery, writing or visiting places that remind patients of their trauma. The use of virtual reality is gaining popularity as well. One non-CBT treatment that may be effective is stress inoculation training (SIT), which reduces anxiety by teaching coping skills like breathing retraining and muscle relaxation. SIT aims to teach patients to react differently to symptoms and triggers.

Ketamine: From clubgoers’ kryptonite to rapid-acting antidepressant

Though they have no doubt lined the pockets of pharmaceutical companies, antidepressants are not a miracle drug. They typically take four to eight weeks to start working; symptoms often worsen before starting to improve. As a matter of fact, only 35 percent of people taking SSRIs experience full remission and 30 percent are what psychiatrists call “treatment-resistant.” This means that 5 million people taking antidepressants do not respond adequately – if at all – to the available treatments.

The shortcomings of modern antidepressants coupled with a drive for innovation has led scientists to investigate novel methods of treating MDD. Their answer? Ketamine.

Discovered in 1962, ketamine hydrochloride – better known as just ketamine – is a general anesthetic used for short-term diagnostic and surgical procedures. It was originally developed as a fast-acting replacement for the drug phencyclidine (PCP). A dissociative anesthetic, ketamine is arguably more famous for its psychedelic properties than for its use as a numbing agent. The drug, dubbed “Special K” in the streets, quickly rose to prominence in the party scene of the 1980s.

Even today, ketamine remains a somewhat popular choice among recreational drug users. In 2013, the National Survey on Drug Use and Health reported that 12 percent of people ages 18-25 had used ketamine in their lifetime, and 6 percent in the past year. So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that ketamine is one of the most strictly regulated psychedelic drugs on the market today: The DEA classifies it as a Schedule III controlled substance.

HOW IT WORKS

Drugs are exogenous substances, which means they occur outside the body. They are classified as agonists (meaning they act like or enhance the effects of certain neurotransmitters) or antagonists (meaning they block or counteract the effects of certain neurotransmitters). Ketamine is the latter: It blocks NMDA receptors (structures on brain cells whose membrane is permeable to calcium) for glutamate, an excitatory neurotransmitter involved in cognitive functions such as learning and memory.

The effects are almost immediate, appearing within ten minutes of taking the drug. Ketamine’s hallucinogenic effects last about 60 minutes when it is injected, and up to two hours when taken orally. These effects, however, are different from those produced by classic psychedelic hallucinogens. The specific dissociative state that comes from taking ketamine is characterized by perceived detachment from one’s body, stripping users of their grip on reality and causing them to exist in a strange, dreamlike state. High doses of the drug can induce schizophrenia-like symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions – this extreme state of dissociation is dubbed the “K-hole” by many users, who regard it as a particularly bad trip.

WHAT THE RESEACH SHOWS

In 2013, the American Journal of Psychiatry published a study on the antidepressant efficacy of ketamine in treatment-resistant major depression. The researchers designed a double-blind, randomized controlled trial comparing the effects of a single infusion of ketamine to an active placebo in the form of the anesthetic agent midazolam. The researchers recruited 73 subjects with treatment-resistant depression experiencing a major depressive episode: a two-week period over which someone experiences symptoms of MDD.

The treatment group received one IV infusion of ketamine while the control group received one IV infusion of midazolam. The primary outcome to be measured was a change in the severity of depression symptoms 24 hours post-treatment, assessed by the Montgomery-Åsberg Depression Rating Scale (MADRS). The researchers found that the treatment group showed greater improvement in their MADRS scores than did the control group. Those who received the ketamine infusion scored 7.95 points lower on the MADRS overall.

Of course, research with ketamine has raised concerns regarding its safety and potential toxicity. Some researchers have expressed qualms over impact on brain structure and function. In 2015, a team of researchers decided to investigate these claims and published their findings in the Journal of Neuropsychopharmacology. Their study examined the neurocognitive effects of ketamine and its association with antidepressant response in individuals with treatment-resistant depression.

The researchers recruited 62 individuals ages 21-80 diagnosed with MDD. Each subject had a history of at least one previous major depressive episode before their current one, or had a chronic (at least 2-year-long) episode and a score of 32 on the Inventory of Depressive Symptomatology. The subjects underwent a series of neurocognitive tests at least a week before receiving treatment and again 7 days post-treatment. Among these tests were the Wechsler Memory Scale (WMS) Spatial Span, Brief Assessment of Cognition in Schizophrenia (BACS) Digit Symbol and the Hopkins Verbal Learning Test (HVLT).

The researchers randomly assigned the patients to either the treatment group or the control group. Over a span of 40 minutes, those in the treatment group were given a 0.5 mg/kg infusion of ketamine, while those in the control group received a 0.045 mg/kg infusion of midazolam. The patients were discharged 24 hours following the infusion, but were subject to outpatient evaluations at 48 and 72 hours and 7 days post-treatment. The change in severity of depression symptoms was assessed using the MADRS scale, with a categorical response defined as at least a 50 percent reduction in the score compared to pre-treatment.

In terms of cognitive effects, participants’ performance improved in terms of processing speed, verbal learning and visual learning across both the treatment and control condition. The researchers also discovered that poor processing speed at baseline was associated with an improved antidepressant response to ketamine at 24 hours post-treatment. Most importantly, the researchers found no evidence of adverse effects on neurocognitive functioning due to ketamine use.

MDMA: From accidental diet pill to promising new treatment for PTSD

In 1912, a German chemist by the name of Anton Köllisch developed what he had intended to be an appetite suppressant. It was patented in 1913 by Merck & Co., the company by whom he was employed. Turns out his diet pill was actually a chemical concoction called MDMA: a synthetic psychoactive drug that alters mood and perception. Also known as “ecstasy” (the tablet form of the drug) or “molly” (a so-called pure crystalline powder), MDMA is an amphetamine derivative whose chemical composition resembles that of stimulants and hallucinogens.

Unlike ketamine, MDMA has no use in medicine – according to the government, that is. After years of rising tensions toward the drug, the DEA classified it as a Schedule I controlled substance in 1985 due to its high potential for abuse, admittedly with good reason: The National Survey on Drug Use and Health reported that in 2015, 13.1 percent of adults ages 18-25 had used MDMA in their lifetime, with 4.1 percent having used it just in the past year. It isn’t difficult to understand the bureaucracy’s misgivings: Surely the clandestine powders and pills lurking in shadowy corners of raves and pockets of inner-city ruffians could serve no therapeutic purpose.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time the government was misconstrued in its suspicions. In the 1960s and 70s – long before it was criminalized – MDMA was legally prescribed in conjunction with psychotherapy because of its potential to work as a rapid-acting antidepressant. One notable advocate of the drug was the American chemist and psychopharmacologist Alexander Shulgin, who promoted its use in therapy to foster a sense of trust between therapist and patient. Outspoken and unorthodox in his practices, Shulgin himself was an occasional user of MDMA. He praised its stress-relieving properties and recommended it to his colleagues, devoting much of his career to psychoactive drug research.

HOW IT WORKS

When taken orally, a single dose of MDMA generates a rush of physiological and psychological effects in 30 to 45 minutes. MDMA is an agonist: It increases the activity of dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin in the brain. Optimum dosage produces a high lasting 3-6 hours on average, during which users report increased energy, pleasure and empathy or emotional warmth. These effects are a result of serotonin’s ability to trigger the release of oxytocin, which is often called the “cuddling hormone” because it increases feelings of trust and bonding.

This explains why Shulgin and others in his field encouraged the use of MDMA in psychotherapy, and why it would be useful in treating PTSD. Because MDMA improves the ability to categorize positive mental states such as friendliness and impairs the ability to categorize negative states like hostility and fear, it would increase communication and decrease fear response in patients. Some experts speculate that MDMA could also optimize exposure therapy by widening the window of tolerance: Patients would remain emotionally engaged with the therapist without succumbing to anxiety while revisiting traumatic memories.

Scientists have slowly begun recognizing MDMA’s potential to revolutionize trauma- and stress-related disorders. In 2016, the FDA approved a series of phase 3 clinical trials for PTSD research. This has drawn the attention of nonprofit research and educational organizations such as the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS). MAPS is currently funding pilot studies and clinical trials investigating the use of MDMA as a drug therapy for PTSD, social anxiety in autistic adults and anxiety in terminal illness.

WHAT THE RESEARCH SHOWS

In 2010, the Journal of Psychopharmacology published the first-ever completed clinical trial evaluating MDMA as a therapeutic supplement. The researchers randomly assigned 20 patients with chronic PTSD to either drug-assisted psychotherapy or an inactive placebo. Every subject in the treatment and control group underwent non-drug-assisted psychotherapy as both a preparatory and follow-up measure.

The primary outcome measure used was the Clinician-Administered PTSD Scale (CAPS), which was given at baseline, 4 days post-treatment and 2 months after the second session. The researchers found that the treatment group showed a significantly greater decrease in CAPS scores from baseline compared to the control group. The rate of clinical response was 83 percent in the treatment group compared to 25 percent in the control group.

Like most synthetic substances, MDMA can have devastating physiological effects if misused, wreaking havoc on the nervous system. The drug causes an upward spike in body temperature, which can induce hyperthermia. It can also cause excessive sweating and subsequent dehydration, blurred vision and more, potentially lethal consequences. However, the researchers found no adverse effects – neurocognitive or otherwise – or any clinically significant increases in blood pressure.

Two years later, in 2012, the Journal of Psychopharmacology published a smaller-scale pilot study examining the effect of MDMA-assisted psychotherapy on patients with treatment-resistant PTSD. The randomized, double-blind and active placebo controlled trial featured 12 patients who received treatment in three experimental sessions. These were alternated with weekly, non-drug-based psychotherapy sessions. The researchers administered MDMA in either a low dose (25 mg with 12.5 mg supplement) or a full dose (125 mg with 62.5 mg supplement). The patients showed statistically significant improvement on the self-reported Posttraumatic Diagnostic Scale (PDS).

These preliminary findings showed that MDMA-assisted psychotherapy can be safely administered in a clinical setting, corroborating the data that was gathered from the completed clinical trial from two years before.

Global impact: What this means for mental health worldwide

People tend to be shortsighted when discussing mental health; as Americans, it is especially easy for us to turn a blind eye to issues outside our own backyard. The WHO estimates that 20 percent of the world’s children and adolescents have mental disorders. Yet regions with the highest percentages of their population under age of 19 tend to have the greatest paucity of mental health resources: Low- and middle-income countries have only one child psychiatrist for every 1 to 4 million people.

This deficit represents the global inequity in the distribution of skilled human resources for mental health. The availability of psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers worldwide is scarce. According to the WHO, low-income countries have just 0.05 psychiatrists and 0.42 nurses for every 100,000 people. Comparatively, the rate of psychiatrists in high-income countries like the U.S. is 170 times greater. 

Mental health disorders are also a burden on global health, acting as risk factors for other diseases such as HIV, heart disease and diabetes. Psychiatric disorders quite literally come with a price: MDD alone costs the U.S. $210 billion a year in lost productivity, missed workdays and depression-related illnesses like anxiety, PTSD and sleep disorders. Suicide racks up an additional $1 billion. Clearly, mental illness affects us all whether we realize it or not, forcing us to bear that collective burden.  

Societal inadequacies in addressing mental health remain a key issue today. Stigma, discrimination and human rights violations against mentally ill patients are rampant, creating a barrier between healthcare accessibility and recovery. Scant financial resources only add fuel to the fire. However, the WHO estimates that implementing mental health services in low-income countries would only cost US$2 per capita per year, and only US$3-4 in lower middle-income countries. Doing so is only a matter of cooperation between the public and private sectors.

As a highly industrialized nation, we must use our power and influence to shape the future of mental health. With diligent research and systematic allocation of resources, cultivating the therapeutic power of recreational drugs could pave the way toward effective, inexpensive and widely accessible treatments on a global scale. The world is waiting.

#IFTTT #MicroHealth

[metafinnwinchester]

Task 12: Muse Booster

Name: Finnegan “Finn” Winchester

Height: 5′8″

Age in Story: 24

Birthplace: Santa Monica, California

Hair (color, length, style): Finn’s hair is naturally dark brunet with a subtly wavy texture (most of the time he straightens it), but he’s been dying it blond since he was around fifteen. Depending on how far he lets it grow, it can be full blond and shaggy more often spiked up (x), or if he gets it trimmed, it looks neater with more of his natural color showing styled in either a quiff or left flat and swept over his forehead (x) (x). Currently, he’s letting the blond grow out, so his hair color looks like this (x), with the blond slowly fading in his hair.

Race/Nationality: White; American with Irish ethnicity

Regional Influences: Ireland, California

Accent (voice, style of speech, slang, signature words/phrases): Finn has an American accent, some would say he sounds “straight up Californian.” When he gets angry or frustrated, a little bit of an Irish accent picked up from his parents will slip into his voice. Since he grew up with Irish parents, he does on occasion drop some Irish words (he’s been most known to use “hussy” or other insults). He has a way of spewing out random words and phrases he makes up on the fly when talking, but can never remember them. His most popular signature word he’s sticking with is “bitchachos.” Voice clip here.

Religion: Catholic (even if he’s been bad with practicing the last few years)

Marital Status: Engaged to Daniel Bates

Scars/Other Notable Physical Attributes: He has a few freckles on his cheeks, neck, and shoulders. His back is littered with near-faded, red scarred lines from whippings at C.A.R.M.A. He also has a few other scars from fights and bullet wounds.

Handicaps (physical, emotional, mental): PTSD, anxiety, depression, ADHD, some anger issues. Due to C.A.R.M.A erasing some of his memories at one point, and those lost memories being retrieved by telepathic interference from his sister, Finn also has some very minor memory problems. He’s a functional alcoholic, and sometimes his knees get really sore and stiff after too much acrobatic and agility fighting. 

Athletic? Inactive? Overall health?: Very athletic. Going around as Phantom almost every night and fighting bad guys along with regular training helps keep him in shape. He’s in pretty good health despite his frequent drinking.

Style of Dress: Finn is almost always dressed nice, yet casual, with skinny jeans (either blue or black) with either a simple black or white t-shirt, a casual collared shirt (usually with sleeves rolled up) or a t-shirt with a flannel or plain over-shirt. For shoes, he usually wears vans, converse, or boots. Sometimes he’ll wear his glasses.

Favorite Colors: Blue, teal, black, and silver

How does character feel about appearance? He thinks he’s attractive and likes how he looks, although he sometimes does get slightly insecure when it comes to the scars on his back.

Any siblings?: Aislinn Winchester (younger twin sister), and Axel Winchester (younger brother).

Relationship with parents?: His relationship with his parents is fairly normal, and they get along. There was a brief period of time where he and his dad had some tension after he came out, but that was resolved (with some help from Caitlin), and they’re all on speaking terms. Dylan being in C.A.R.M.A has caused the two of them to talk less for obvious reasons, but he still considers himself close to his dad. He respects and looks up to his dad, and he loves his mother a lot and would do anything for her.

Memories about childhood?: He mostly remembers the good times where he and his siblings would terrorize each other (with love of course) and then laugh about it all later after their mom or dad would tell them to knock it off. He also remembers a lot of trips to Ireland to visit the grandparents, and how much he loved those vacations.

Educational background? (Street smart? Book smart?): He attended Stanford University with a focus in Music and Business. Unfortunately, he only made it halfway through junior year before he was arrested by C.A.R.M.A, so he has not earned his degree...yet. Even though most people don’t think so, he’s actually quite book smart, but his street smarts tend to overpower that.

Work Experience: C.A.R.M.A Meta Agent, and vigilante hero Phantom. Not the best things to put on a resume.

Where does the character live now? Describe home. (Emotional atmosphere & physical): Finn lives in a duplex apartment in West Stone with his fiancé Daniel Bates and their three dogs. The home is rather extravagant, spacious, and luxurious, which is just perfect for the two of them, and Finn always finds it easy to relax and chill out there.

Neat or messy?: It depends on his mood and how lazy he feels, but Finn prefers to be neat. Sometimes he just doesn’t have the energy to pick the clothes up off the floor.

Sexuality: Gay.

Morals: Finn isn’t really sure how to describe his morals. He was raised with the value of always trying to do the right thing, but he hit a dark period where morals were thrown out the window when he was forced into C.A.R.M.A. He had no qualms with assassinating a dangerous Meta or torturing a Rebel without guilt. Now that he’s no longer brainwashed, he regrets his past deeds and uses the Hero Squad as a way to “atone” for those by trying to save anyone needing help and stopping crime without killing the bad guy.

Activities: Playing guitar, singing, occasionally writing, running, dog-walking, sex with Danny, training, being a vigilante, drinking

Friends? Pets?: His closest friends are definitely Kelli, Hope, and Alexandra

Enemies? Why?: Sal Bradbury. The man lives to torment him ever since he was forced into and eventually left C.A.R.M.A, and Finn both hates him and weirdly cares about him.

Basic Nature: Finn comes off as extroverted, entertaining, sassy, and charismatic, but he’s a lot more than that. To those who really know him, he’s kind, protective, compassionate, and will go to the ends of the earth of them. He also has an incredibly short-temper, and when he gets angry, he likes to take it out through fighting.

Personality Traits: Feisty, short-tempered, humorous, protective, brave, intuitive, creative, impulsive, strong-willed, friendly, playful, tough, emotionally unstable, strategic, instinctive, smart, caring

Strongest/Weakest Traits: Finn’s strongest traits are definitely his bravery, his caring and protective nature towards his friends and family, and ability to plan strategies for a fight. His weakest would be his emotional instability since he tends to compartmentalize his negative emotions for extended periods of time until they all bubble up in the form of an emotional breakdown. His short-temper has also sometimes gotten him into trouble as well.

What do they fear?: He fears ending up in C.A.R.M.A again as an agent, forced to kill and torture innocent lives. 

What are they proud of?: He’s proud of surviving the worst part of his life spent in C.A.R.M.A, and the fact that he’s out and using his skills to help do good in Pansaw.

Outlook on life: Finn’s outlook on life kinda wavers towards pessimistic realism and rare hopeful optimism towards the future. Life currently sucks, but it could start getting better.

Ambitions: Finn’s ambitions at the moment are to basically try and really move past his former C.A.R.M.A life, keep his family safe and out of C.A.R.M.A’s hands, marry Daniel, and be happy in life. 

Politics: Surprisingly, Finn is really conservative on a lot of things, but more egalitarian with social issues. He absolutely hates social justice warriors; they are the bane of his existence and the reason he grinds his teeth at night. 

How do they see themselves?: Outwardly, Finn sees himself as hot shit, confident, funny, and bold. But deep down, he kind of thinks of himself as a hot mess at the moment. He doesn’t necessarily think he’s a great person, but he likes to think that he’s working on that. 

How are they seen by others?: Others view him as cute and snarky, but rather entertaining. His friends probably see him as a really annoying but lovable brother they trust.

Do I (the writer) like this person? Why? Why not?: I honestly adore Finn as a person, he’s the kind of guy that I’d wanna grab a beer with and be best friends with. He’d be like the older brother I never had.

Most Important Thing About Them: His resillience.

Present Problem: Finn’s current problem is basically that he feels like Sal and C.A.R.M.A have torn his family apart and it started since the day he was arrested. Sal’s been terrorizing him and his parents, putting ideas into his mother’s head and sharing all the recorded footage of his time in C.A.R.M.A being tortured and doing horrible things. His dad is also still in C.A.R.M.A and it’s been harder to see him more often.

How it will get worse: There are a million different ways this could get worse, but for Finn personally, it could only get worse if he somehow ended up back in C.A.R.M.A and being Sal’s “pet” again. He still has nightmares about what happened to him and what went on during his time there.

Their goals in this story?: He kind of wants to try helping make a difference with how Metas are viewed in the world, that not all of them are bad and some can be good and helpful. That’s sort of the reason the Hero Squad was founded; he and the others who started it wanted to use the skills they had to help others.

What traits will help/hurt them in achieving this goal?: His determination, bravery, intelligence, and skills from C.A.R.M.A.

What makes them different from similar characters?: I feel like what makes Finn different is that he takes responsibility for his actions from when he was in C.A.R.M.A, and doesn’t blame them on the fact that he was brainwashed (even if he says otherwise to other people). He also doesn’t really lament on it a lot or let it hinder him from trying to make it right in his own weird way.

Why will readers remember this character vividly?: He’s kind of a goofball and I find him entertaining, but he also has a bit of darkness underneath that he’s trying to overcome.

#wotna task