#substance misuse

[neuroticboyfriend]

a lot of the time, abusers are just regular people. abuse is something we're all capable of - it's a pattern of harmful behavior in which there's power imbalance. we all hold various privileges, connections, and knowledge that can be turned into the power to abuse others. we can all exert our will, thoughts, feelings, etc. onto others in a way that hurts them and takes power away from them.

abusive people have done something horrible and inexcusable, yet they aren't... inherently special. they're people, capable of choosing between right and wrong, capable of change, just as much as others are. i say this in part because i think a lot of people have this lofty idea of abusers that leads them to think they couldn't possibly be a victim of abuse. but abuse can be incredibly mundane - and this also means we all have to watch out for abusive behaviors in ourselves.

abuse isn't just something Obviously Bad People (TM) are capable of... and abuse isn't caused by mental illness, substance use/addiction, gender, etc. etc., even if these things impact what happens. idk. there's no real end point to this post. i just wish people didn't mystify abuse, and realized how (deeply unfortunately) normal and subtle it can be... and often is.

#softspoonie #abuse #abuse survivor #trauma #ableism #sanism #mentally ill #cluster b #cluster b pd #cluster b personality disorder #personality disorders #mental illness #substance use #substance abuse #substance misuse #addiction

[magnetothemagnificent]

When talking about the Opioid Epidemic in the US, please be careful not to invalidate or demonize pain sufferers in the process.

A lot of talk about the Opioid Epidemic turns into "Well Purdue Pharma convinced doctors that pain is serious and that pain needs to be treated! Before that we knew that a little pain is good for you! Maybe sometimes a patient doesn't actually need treatment for pain!"

Pain is serious. Whether it's from an injury, a surgery, or a chronic condition, it's serious. It's got nothing to do with opioids. You don't have to be a pill-pusher to understand that.

Pain sufferers must be given options to treat their pain, and pain sufferers shouldn't have to choose between suffering in silence or getting addicted to opioids.

Pain management and treatment needs to be taken seriously by the medical field, completely separate from the opioid debate. There needs to be more research into non-addictive substances for pain relief, and better long-term care and counseling in the case where a patient is prescribed an addictive substance.

[And while we're at it, addicts shouldn't be demonized either.]

#actually disabled #chronic pain #chronic illness #ableism #opiod crisis #addiction #substance misuse #medicine #pain

[that-0ne-loser-ky]

lmao, they gave me a starter dose of some adhd med so i forgot to take it of course so i did the resonable thing and took five on new years and i thought i was having a heart attack and i might have but at least i tryed to make a soldering iron (failed)

#tw medicine #tw medication #tw drugs #substance misuse #maybe vent #tw vent #this is what happened on new years btw #ik i confused and concerned people #im sorry and im ok

[actuallyverynormalbtw]

#drugblr #ecstacy #stoner #mentally ill #mentally ill memes #druggie #junkie #drug junkie #traumacore #@n0r3xia #boys who do drugs #ed not sheeren #substance use #tw substance abuse #tw drugs #substance misuse #depressed #mentally unhinged

[lookatmenowx]

No but really how y’all using tramadol? Got a prescription for my chronic pain long ago but haven’t got any results, now I’m out of alprazolam since forever, duloxetine won’t do shit doesn’t matter how much i take and I can’t drink so what should i do with it to get some results? Please I just don’t want to think tonight

#tw drugs #drug abuse #tw substance abuse #substance addiction #self destruction #self destructive behavior #tw self destruction #tw self destructive behavior #substance use #substance misuse #tw selfhate #self destructive tendencies #self h@rm #self h@te

[explode-this]

If you struggle with substance use, you’re not broken or diseased—you’re a human being! If you would like a human-centered, undramatic approach to sorting out how you relate to alcohol or drugs and stopping problematic use, check out The Freedom Model. They have a book which is reasonably priced (I got it for free with shipping) and though they offer coaching and seminars for a nominal fee, their podcast episodes are free and offer a lot to think about. I’m not shilling, I just think their approach is truly refreshing and would like to recommend it to anyone who also struggles with the 12 step format. AA/NA really isn’t for everyone, and it doesn’t mean you’re selfish/an egomaniac/“constitutionally incapable of being honest with yourself.” It just means that despite having more in common than not, we can’t all fit into the same “one size fits all” structure. And in my personal opinion I think labeling oneself forever by a temporary coping mechanism, and making “recovery” eternal, is more harmful than letting it peter out on its own (which is generally what happens when something isn’t useful for you anymore—we grow out of a lot of stupid stuff when we don’t make it the centerpiece of existence). Do what works for you obviously, but don’t feel like you’re irreparable if the “gold standard” doesn’t make sense to you. (Secret: it doesn’t make sense to a lot of people holding it up as the gold standard, either)

#substance use #substance misuse #substance use disorder #the freedom model #Youtube

[carrotzcake]

the good* thing about bingeing and purging while drinking is no hangover

the bad thing is my weight is up

*these are both bad things, eating disorders and substance misuse are not something to emulate or aspire to. i'm 32 years old, this is fucking ridiculous

#personal #eating disorder #eating disorder symptoms #anorexia #bulimia #ednos #osfed #binge #purge #binge and purge #weight #weight fluctuation #alcohol #substance use #substance misuse #alcoholism #alcohol use disorder #actuallyanorexia #actuallybulimia #actuallyED #edulting

[dylankerraddictiontherapy]

Personalised Addiction Counselling: Your Path to Recovery

In the realm of addiction, the road to recovery is a unique and intricate journey. Addiction is an intimately personal experience, and what works for one individual may not resonate with another. This is where personalised addiction counselling, epitomised by individualised treatment plans, emerges as a pivotal player. Explore the advantages of embracing a personalised approach to addiction…

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#Addiction Recovery #Individualised Treatment #Personalised Counselling #Substance Misuse

[majesticparvanae]

I did it again! I have a new article out and I paired it with a TT that went up moments before the article went live!

Check out my latest article with the TikTok video link:

#culture #writing #education #politics #content writer #substance misuse

[valleyviewresidentialllc]

Providers of addiction rehabilitation believe that drug abuse is a threat to society that must be eliminated. It endangers our bodies and brains and is dangerous. Sometimes the results are irreversible. It can be harmful to us, as well as to our friends, family, and unborn children.

#Mental Health #Substance Misuse #Counseling Services

[mtsu4u]

#capta #family policing #mtsu4umisc #child welfare #family separation #substance misuse #drug test is not a parenting test

[neuroticboyfriend]

don't know how to put this into words that make sense but addiction feels like a really long train ride. you just get farther and farther from home. you know you have to go back. you know the farther out you go the more time, money, and energy it'll take to get home. you know you have things to do at home. you have people you miss and hobbies to do and things to take care of. but you're already so far out. so you just keep going and telling yourself it's better to never look back. you try to find comfort and joy gazing out the window at all the new places and scenes, but you really just keep getting more lost. nothing is familiar anymore - except for the train. except for the mother fucking train.

you know every nook and cranny of that god damn train, but nothing about yourself or your future or what you really want out of life. and the worst part is, if you don't turn around, one day you'll hit the end of the line. but there will be no train back. you'll never go home again. you'll never go anywhere again.

#(ok to rb) #softspoonie #julian rants #addiction #substance use disorder #mentally ill #mental illness #chronic illness #chronically ill #creative writing #spilled words #spilled thoughts #spilled emotions #spilled writing #spilled feelings #substance use #drug use #substance abuse #substance misuse #alcoholic #alcoholism

[theslightlystrange]

Trauma And Addiction: A Link Of Connection We Can't Ignore

Trauma And Addiction: A Link Of Connection We Can’t Ignore

Every other day brings out some news headline about a celebrity struggling with substance use or an addiction disorder. There are also countless news stories about dangerous drug trends or the ever-growing problem of addiction in the general population. And think about the many heartbreaking stories that never make the news. Someone loses a job because of addiction. A loved one dies of an…

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#Addiction #Addiction Awareness #Adverse Childhood Experiences #Drugs and Alcohol #Mental Health #Recovery #Substance Misuse #Substance Use #Trauma #Trauma Response

[mr-divabetic]

The COVID-19 pandemic increased people misusing drugs and dying from drug overdoses. This Halloween, the Amy Wine "Haunted" House Twins are raising awareness for free, compassionate, accessible care and support for mental health or substance abuse-related distress. Call 988

#amy winehouse #help #sober #rehab #mental health #Halloween #nyc #divabetic #mr divabetic #rockstar #substance abuse #substance misuse #overdose #988lifeline #988

[dcwellnessinc]

#Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms #Substance Misuse

[dull-c]

merry christmas, happy hols, and happy new year @itskotka !! surprise i'm your @cksecretsanta23 hehe! hope you enjoy this little robby story I wrote ya.

-

Ghosts of Christmases Past

In the memory he’s still a kid, ankle deep in polystyrene. Tiny bean bag beans cling to the Christmas tree, to his sweater sleeves, and a giddiness pinches his chest.

Robby’s not sure why he’s thinking of it now; his legs propped up on the arm of a sofa, a girl’s - he thinks she said her name was Carly - hand light on his arm. Someone at this house party must have been talking about the holidays, he thinks. Or maybe it was the rainbow-colored flashing fairy lights winding their way across the ceiling above him. Either way, the images keep resurfacing, floating through his mind. It’s a nice memory, or it seems like it anyway, but he can’t quite place the when and where - can’t tell who was around - if anyone was at all.

It occurs to him as he’s lying there, high as a kite, maybe a little buzzed too; bones vibrating with mishmash of shouting voices over pounding music, that it probably feels nice because of that missing context. His other childhood Christmas memories, even the ones that felt cozy and warm, usually went hand in clenched hand with recollections of his mom glancing repeatedly at her watch, at her phone. Tight line of her mouth, worrying deeper as the day went on. She’d stopped promising him time from his dad, knew better by then, but he’d been able to tell anyway when she was expecting him, and he didn’t show. Her disappointment and frustration bled through him like red wine into cheap tablecloth.

Someone walking by knocks against his feet hard, jerking Robby back into the present. The hand on his arm moves, pats his chest soothingly like he’s a startled dog, and it’s just overfamiliar; maternal enough to make him sit up and out of its grasp, head running cartwheels as he does. Robby stills for a moment, breathes deep and long, til he’s pretty sure he’s not going to headbutt the carpet when he tries to get up.

He calls his mom first, as he’s weaving his way through the drunken, dancing, handsy bodies in the hallway, but gets her voicemail. So, he tries the longer shot.

“Who’s playing that garbage music?” his dad asks, when he picks up. “Where are you?”

“Kenny’s place,” Robby lies, after a slightly-too-long moment of dead air. He slips out the front door and pulls his phone away from his ear to check the time. It’s still pretty early, still possibly within visiting your karate friend’s house hours.

There’s an even longer pause on his dad’s end, like he’s not buying it for a second, and is trying to decide whether to push it.

“Oh yeah? Miguel with you?”

Carmen says something in the background, and Robby can’t quite make out the words, but he’s sure they both already know where Miguel is, and he really didn’t drink or smoke enough to fall into that trap.

“No, just Kenny and a couple guys from class. Listen, I’m just calling because I need to ask you a question.”

“Okay.” He still sounds skeptical. “What’s up?”

“You know those tiny little balls that people stuff into bean bags?”

“Yeah right, the beans. Look kind of edible but they’re not.”

“Those, yeah.” Robby sits on a chair by the porch, rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, no idea how to ask the thing he wanted to ask, now that he’s about to ask it. “I have this memory of like, uh, you know, - maybe it’s a dream, I don’t know. I’m standing in a bunch of them? And there’s this little Christmas tree and I’m like - were you? I don’t– Do you, uh, remember anything?”

“Run that by me again?” His dad’s voice sounds far away, pitchy through the phone. “You’re not making much sense. You’re standing where?”

It’s cooler outside than in, but Robby’s face is starting to crowd with heat. Why did he think it was a good idea to call about this again? Why is he fixating on one stupid happy ancient memory he’s not sure even happened? It’s summer for fuckssake.

“No, forget it, you probably weren’t even–” He blows out a deep breath. “I gotta go.”

“You good, Rob?” His dad’s voice has lost the distrust, it’s just concern now. “Is this about Tory?” There’s a beat, and then rustling on the other end of the call. “Tell me where you are, I can send someone to–”

Robby cuts him off. There’s a weird heaviness behind his eyes and a twinge in his throat. He thinks he might need to throw up or something.

“I’m good, Dad. It doesn’t matter. Enjoy the rest of your weekend away, okay? Tell Carmen I said hi.”

“Robby–”

He hangs up, and violently shoves his phone into the back of his jeans.

When Robby slips back inside, someone has moved into his dip in the couch and he can’t see Possibly Carly or her arm anywhere, so he downs another beer and heads out to the backyard. It’s marginally less hazy and loud and smells a little better. He settles into a cheap plastic lawn chair next to some rich kids talking increasingly loudly about their vacation to Greece and closes his eyes for a moment.

He opens them again maybe seconds, minutes, hours later. The rich, loud kids are gone, and someone is saying his name repeatedly. He looks up, disoriented; finds himself being stood over by the girl who featured in most of his juvie nightmares, looking paradoxically like something out of a teen romcom, in her cute, oversized sweater and big boots and scrunched curls. The pool light is framing her from behind, making her look kind of glowy.

Angel of the morning. Evening. Friday night, or whatever.

“Sam?” He lowers his voice to an almost-whisper. “Wait, are you real?”

Robby’s sure this must be another trip into his memories, another glimpse of something stored away from a time when things were good; easy, when they could still sense each other’s movement, wet boards under their feet, sun beating down in their sticky, sweaty bodies shifting together in complete sync.

Sam slugs him in the arm. “That feel real?”

“Ow, jesus.”

“Nope, just me.” Sam holds out her hands, and beckons impatiently. “Come on Fear and Loathing, time to go.”

Robby takes her hands, but when she tries to pull him up he holds his weight, leans back a bit.

“How’d you know where I was?”

“Karate spy network.”

Robby blinks at her.

“Your dad called my dad,” Sam elaborates, letting go of his hands. “And then my dad called me.” She fishes around in her pocket and pulls out her phone. “And I’d made you activate the Find My app, after the last time you went on the run.” She waves her phone at him. “Fool me once, Robert Swayze.”

Sam takes his hands and tries hauling him to feet again, but Robby doesn’t resist this time and realizes too late that she’s expecting him to. She pulls hard, overbalances, and seemingly in slow motion, tips backwards. She pulls Robby down trying to stop herself, and he falls heavily on top of her with an oof; hips to hips, chest to chest, just narrowly avoiding smacking his forehead into her nose.

“Shit, sorry,” Robby says, rolling off her immediately, feeling humiliated now for maybe the third or fourth time tonight. “You okay?”

“I think,” she wheezes, visibly winded, “that was second base.”

Robby bites back a laugh and helps Sam sit up, brushes some foliage out of her hair while she catches her breath. When they’ve regained some balance, they pull each other to their feet again.

“Come on,” Sam shouts, as they make their way back through the house, over the noise and maze of teenage bodies. “We can grab a burger on the way to mine.”

He lets himself be pulled through it.

“Your house?”

“You’re not going back to your flat on your own.” Sam turns and looks at him over her shoulder, smirks. “Don’t ask my dad if he’s real though, or he’s gonna lose it.”

Mr. Larusso is waiting up for them, in his towel robe and slippers, bent over a book at the table. His expression relaxes a little when he sees them, and Robby’s not sure if that’s relief or if he’s purposely hiding a more unpleasant reaction, but he’s not yelling or kicking anyone’s doors in, so he’s just going to try and roll with it.

“Hi Robby, Sam.”

“Hey Mr. Larusso.” He swallows, and it feels loud. “Sorry to - I know it’s late-”

“It’s not that late,” Sam interrupts, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t let Dad’s pajamas confuse you, he’s been in them since seven-thirty.”

“It was eight, at least,” Mr. Larusso mutters, sounding genuinely put out by the thirty-minute discrepancy. He gives Robby's shoulder a quick, friendly squeeze as he slips by him. “Sit down, I’ll make you a coffee.”

Sam hands Robby a glass full of water and nudges him toward the sofa, as Mr. Larusso disappears into the kitchen. The TV is playing some old Frasier reruns and maybe it’s the weed –he’s pretty sure it’s the weed– but it feels like he’s walked back into a memory of something he can barely remember. Something warm; gentle; missed tugs at his chest as Sam flops down next to him on the familiar sofa and tucks her head against shoulder, easy as breathing.

Sounds of the coffee machine groaning into life drift in from the next room, and then Mr. Larusso’s voice.

“Hey Johnny, just letting you know–” Mr. Larusso stops, heaves a sigh so long-suffering Robby’s sure he can feel his exhale half a room away. “What do you mean ‘who is this’? The caller ID is right on your-” Another long, exasperated sigh. “Of course you are. Yeah, he’s here.” His voice is a little warmer, softer now. “He’s a little glassy-eyed but seems fine. Yeah, yeah, I’ll put him on.”

Mr. Larusso hands Robby his phone, it’s hot against his ear.

“Dad?”

“Hey champ, everything alright over there?”

His dad’s voice sounds clearer than before, but there’s still an edge of concern.

“Yeah,” Robby answers. “Sam tracked me down on her stalker app, I’m good.”

He hears Sam tsk, but she stays leaning against him.

“Good,” his dad says. “Good. Listen, that thing you were asking me about earlier.”

Robby flinches.

“Yeah, that was weird, sorry.”

“No, I was thinking about it after you called, and I remembered what you were talking about.”

Mr. Larusso places a mug of coffee into his free hand. Robby starts to nod his silent thanks, but he’s already gone again, like a terrifying, coffee-bearing sprite. He sits up a little straighter.

“Oh yeah?”

There’s a rusting noise on the phone, like his dad’s moving around.

“It was when you were four - or five maybe. I can’t remember exactly, but you were just old enough to start calling me a deadbeat to my face.”

Robby’s grip tightens on the mug a fraction.

“I-”

“No, it's fine I was,” His dad clarifies, clearing his throat. “That’s not the point. It was December and I asked you what you wanted for Christmas, and I guess you’d been watching a bunch of TV specials or something and you said, all serious and shit, like it was a challenge, that you wanted a White Christmas.”

Robby laughs.

“Oh man, I wanted snow in the San Fernando Valley?”

“Exactly! As rare as hen’s tits!”

“Teeth,”

“What?”

“Never mind, sorry, go on.”

“Okay, right,” his dad continues, and Robby pretty much knows by now where the story is going, but he lets him tell it anyway. He wants to hear him tell it. “So, you weren’t going to get real snow, but I don’t like to back down from a clear challenge either - no matter how puny the challenger is. I went to Walmart, got as many of those packets of bean bag beans as I could carry, and filled up your living room with that shit.”

“You brought the snow to the valley.” Robby grins, takes a sip of coffee.

“Shan wasn’t super happy about the cleanup, but man.” There’s laughter in his voice. “You loved it.”

And Robby did, he remembers now, the spaces in his memory filling as his dad talks.

Remembers their tiny flat, polystyrene snow in every direction. His breathless giggling as his dad threw fistfuls of it at him. Looking up at his mom, who was smiling back at him; worries all smoothed away.

He remembers jumping up and down on their ratty sofa while snow rained down over him, and the dizzy happiness pinching his ribs. How, swept up in his joy, he threw his arms out wide and leapt into the blizzard; sure in that moment that someone would catch him.

#cksecretsanta23 #fanfic #robby keene #robby/sam (ambiguous or implied) #robby/happiness (ambiguous or implied) #deliberately vague timeline #addictive substance use or misuse #swearing teens #swearing adults #run on sentences #misuse of semicolons #unfortunately this is what the inside of my brain looks like #(messy)