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my-emotional-self · 3 years

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Toxic Love Chapter 7

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing. But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story! I apologize in advance!

8 Years Ago – Age 17

“Y/N, do you know why you are here?” the shrink asked from across the large desk. You looked down at the typical uniform of a patient at a psychiatric ward. Yes you knew why you were in here. A few months ago you witnessed your father’s dead corpse hanging in your living room. The next thing you knew you were writing a suicide note of your own and your foster parents found it before you could do anything. Now, you were stuck in a psych ward, probably until you at least turned 18.

“Yep,” came your short response.

The shrink glanced down at her papers in front of her, going through all of your notes. “We want to help you as best we can Y/N. You’ve been through some very traumatic experiences in your life and you’ve witnessed a great deal. We are going to get you all the help you need.”

3 Months Later

“Have you heard of Borderline Personality Disorder Y/N?” your psychiatrist, Dr. Wang asked.

That made your head snap in her direction. Here you were, still stuck in the psych ward after three months and you weren’t sure why. “I’ve heard of that, yes. But I thought I was just depressed,” you mumbled, chewing on your fingernail.

You were clinically diagnosed with depression shortly after coming here.

“Well, that’s what we originally thought at first. But the longer you’ve spent time here, the more I and the rest of the staff have discovered it is BPD. You’re intense mood swings, combined with your ongoing feelings of emptiness and the intense bouts of anger you have are all signs of BPD. We are going to switch up your medications and that will really help with your mood swings and anger issues.

~~~

No matter how hard you tried, sleep never came to you that afternoon. You tossed and turned all afternoon in your bed and nothing seemed to be working. Not only that, but you were really starting to get more irritable as the day went on and you knew it was time to change the dosing of your medication. It was like clockwork, every year to year and a half. The only problem was that you couldn’t leave the tower without Steve, Bucky or an anyone else. How were you supposed to get an appointment with your Psychiatrist if you couldn’t leave the tower alone? This only increased your anger and frustration as you got out of bed to get ready.

You brushed your teeth and put on a some jeans and a t-shirt, not really caring what you threw on. All of the specific clothing you wore for work was in the closet of your game room along with your makeup and accessories.

Upon leaving your room, you saw Steve and Bucky sitting at the island in the kitchen of your shared apartment. They both looked deep in thought over some paperwork and you assumed it was for work.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, you were about to head into the elevator as you didn’t want to disturb them, but Steve spoke up and caught your attention. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, umm, I’m heading down to my game room. I’m going to work tonight,” you mumbled out as you pressed the button for the elevator. You noticed it was on the ground floor and it would take a few minutes to get to your level.

“What time do you plan on being done?” Steve questioned.

You huffed in annoyance, already irritated as anger began to creep through your bones. “I don’t know. Whenever I get done,” you snapped. Immediately you felt regret, but sometimes your emotions got the better of you when you were in dire need of a medication change.

“Hey, what’s with the attitude?” Steve commanded as he got up from his seat and stalked over to you, hands on his hips. You noticed Bucky looking at you from his seat with furrowed brows. They had never seen you angry like this. You were always so compliant and easy going.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired is all.”

Steve looked at you sharply, his lips in a thin tight line. “Alright. Just make sure you get to bed at a reasonable time tonight. Promise?”

“I promise,” you answered back.

~~~

In the comfort of your game room, you quickly got to work. Digging through your closet, you decided on a light pink tank top that said ‘Gamer Girl’ in black letters with two gamer controls on it. Since your webcam only showed your top half, you threw on a black pair of cotton shorts to be comfortable.

Next, you put your hair up in space buns, making sure they were situated just right so they wouldn’t be in the way of your headphones. You put on your typical game night makeup: bright pink eyeshadow with dark smoked out liner, some mascara and blush and you were good to go.

Turning on your monitor, you began to power everything up and once that was done, you logged in. Immediately your followers started putting in their messages off to the side and you smiled as you read them. You always tried to read as much of them as you could.

As the night went on, you knew you should pack it up and listen to what Steve said; getting to bed at a descent time and getting rest. But you were having way too much fun tonight and so were your followers. It was one of the best nights you’d had in months and not just money wise.

Ignoring the clock you continued to play and interact with your followers with the microphone that was attached to your headphones. Every so often you would glance to your messages box and see what some of them had said. Most of them were cheering you on but of course you always had some haters in there as well.

It was when you noticed the screen name of one of them that made your blood run cold. JSmith20. ‘It can’t be’ you thought to yourself, trying to keep as composed as possible as hundreds of people were watching you game in this very moment.

John’s last name is Smith and he always told you how his favorite number was 20, because that was how old you were when you met him. No, but he’s still in prison. He hasn’t gotten out. He’ll be in there for many more years to come. It had to be one of his friends right? The same friend that had been delivering those letters to your old apartment. ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s just one of his friends trying to torment you’ you thought to yourself.

Then, the person behind that screen name typed a message into your message box.

Hey babe. Do you miss me yet? I can’t wait to see you – J

Yep, your composure went out the window reading the message. Then another message from him popped up.

I see you are no longer living in that little one bedroom apartment. Did you really think you could up and move and I wouldn’t be able to find you? Oh babe, how cute. I will find you and we will meet again soon. I promise – J

As you stared at the words on your screen, you heard groans from the other players on your team. You had just lost the game.

“Shit,” you swore, anger bubbling up inside of you. “Fucking damnit!” You slammed your fist on the desk.

You rarely lost games. Losing always put you in a foul mood. But because of already being irritable and your emotions on over drive, losing just made everything worse.

Looking at the clock it was just before five in the morning so you logged off and shut everything down.

You took your hair out of the buns, immediately feeling the tension in your head ease. Ever so quietly, you opened the door and poked your head out into the hallway. It was bitch black so you used your phone as a flashlight and tiptoed to the elevator. Before pressing the button on the elevator, you paused. What if the noise of the elevator woke up Steve or Bucky? You had promised Steve that you would get to bed at a descent time and seeing as it was just about five in the morning, well, you kind of figured you’d be in trouble.

Instead, you opened the door to the stairs which was situated right next to the elevator. At least taking the stairs would be much quieter.

You climbed the stairs up a few levels until you reached your living level and you waited on baited breath for a few moments. Nothing. Nothing but silence. As quiet as a mouse, you snuck through the door and dashed to your room, thanking your lucky stars that the palm scanner didn’t make any noise.

You took a nice hot shower, washing off all of your makeup and the stress of the last few hours. As much as you wanted to forget John messaging you, it wasn’t going to happen, neither was any sleep.

Rather than even bothering to get into bed and try to relax, you sent an email to your psychiatrist letting her know that you would more than likely need a dose change on your medications. Frantically typing away at the email, you explained how you were beginning to get irritated and it was harder for you to control your bouts of anger.

Luckily for you, Dr. Wang was an early bird and she emailed you right back. She wanted you to come see her for an appointment and your heart immediately dropped. That wasn’t going to happen as one of your rules was that you weren’t allowed out of the tower by yourself. And as much as you liked Darcy, you couldn’t trust her to go with you and not say anything to Steve or Bucky.

Typing out your reply, you explained that you were unfortunately not able to meet in person and if there was anything else that could be done. After you hit sent, you began to pace in your apartment, clearly on edge with everything going on. You just wanted to feel better; you hated feeling this way. It was as if you weren’t in control of your body and you definitely weren’t in control of your emotions.

A notification came through your laptop and you rushed towards it, almost tripping over your feet. As you read her words, you could have cried right then and there. She had agreed to a phone call appointment and she had time right now to discuss things with you.

Grasping your phone, you dialed her number.

“It’s good to hear from you Y/N,” Dr. Wang stated as she answered the phone.

“Oh Dr. Wang it is so good to hear your voice.”

She let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, it has been a little over six months since we’ve last spoken. How are things going with you?”

“Where to begin,” you started off saying. You let her know that you indeed met your soulmates and had moved in with them. You went over the rules that Steve had given you and she made you feel better as she stated she had seen way worse rules. Hell, she said your rules were like a walk in the park compared to some she has heard.

“Alright, now, let’s get down to business. How are you feeling these past few days?” she asked curiously.

“Ugh, not good. Moving was stressful but I have been feeling really irritated over the last few and I’ve had a few bouts of anger rush through me that makes me want to punch something, but I’ve luckily been able to hold back on that.”

“What about any risky behaviors such as reckless driving, spending sprees, binge eating, drug abuse or sabotaging anything positive in your life?”

“Not yet,” you stated. You knew the routine. She was going over all the symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder to see what has changed with you.

“Ok good. How about any intense fears of abandonment or rejection?”

That question always hit you like a punch to the gut. The only reason you had stayed with John for so long was because of that right there. He purposely wouldn’t let you see Dr. Wang or he wouldn’t take you to get your medications refilled and because of that, you were starting to feel those feelings; not wanting to be abandoned no matter what.

“Nope,” you replied.

“Ok then. I am going to increase the dosing on your current medications but I want to warn you. Without you coming in and personally seeing me and without getting some blood work done, I don’t know how well this dosing is going to work, if it will work at all. We might need to discuss changing the medication all together,” she stated.

“I understand Dr. Wang. And do you think maybe you could prescribe some sort of sleep medication for me too?”

“I can prescribe a one week trial of a sleeping medication for you. After that, I really need you to try and come see me in the office and we can discuss that further. Now, did you want me to send these prescriptions into your regular pharmacy?”

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you so much Dr. Wang.”

“No worries at all Y/N. Give the office a call and get an appointment set up.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

Now that you had your medications all taken care of, you had to figure a way to leave the tower so you could get them.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #dark!steve rogers #dark! steve rogers

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

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A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 1 [NSFW/18+]

Chapter 2 ->

Summary: You can’t stand Frederick Chilton, but after he’s tortured and left scarred by a former patient, you are afflicted by an irrepressible desire to get him in bed.

This has been posted on AO3 for awhile, but I thought I’d post the chapters here! (Took the liberty of fleshing out the short smut a wee bit.)

2,380 words

Dr. Frederick Chilton was arrogant and unpleasant.

Everyone thought so, but most would dance around their hostility toward him with subtle digs couched in polite conversation. Not you. You weren’t shy about saying it to his face.

As he exited the courtroom doors, Dr. Chilton saw you waiting in the hall to ambush him, and braced himself for another soapbox diatribe.

Such a shame, he thought. He recalled how he had tried to make a good impression when you first met, but all his charm kept backfiring, and now you patently despised him. His failure to curry favor was nothing out of the ordinary, but unfortunately, he still had to deal with you. You were one of Crawford’s lackeys, and had made yourself inescapable since Will Graham’s arrest.

“You conniving, idiotic, condescending weasel!” you exploded upon the man with an expensive suit and gaudy cane. “How could you get on the stand and make that bullshit testimony? You don’t know anything about Will!” You withheld the fuck-you’s that time, out of professional courtesy.

He brushed you off and continued walking briskly down the hall, cane tapping on the polished floor, but you followed and walked alongside him.

“Do I need a restraining order against you?” Dr. Chilton said, bored.

You crossed your arms. “Oh, hah-hah.”

“What is it, then?” he sighed, slowing down. Trying to outpace you was more trouble than it was worth, thanks to the pinching of scar tissue in every stride. “I am extremely busy.”

“‘The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes, because that man is a fiction,’” you quoted his testimony.

“Correct. Is that all?”

“Did you ever consider it’s because he didn’t commit those crimes? You know, being the only one who thinks Will is a psychopath doesn’t make you a genius, it makes you an idiot. Or do you know that, but you’ve just been pining have him locked up so you can study him?”

“Incredible. Mr. Graham has found a truly gullible fool to place under his thumb. I have never met anyone so susceptible to his manipulations. Have you ever been tested for personality disorders?” He regarded you like you were a lab rat with a lot of audacity to be squeaking at him (though to be fair, that was how he looked at almost everybody).

You burned to keep arguing, but he walked down the courthouse steps and got into an obtrusively fancy classic car. Your heart was racing. You weren’t finished with him.

*****

You seemed to be the only sane person aware that the sweet, empathetic, dog-loving Will Graham was obviously being framed, and did your best to visit him as often as possible at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Unfortunately, that meant dealing with its chief of staff.

Every time you visited Will, you ended up clashing with that pompous buffoon and his perfectly coiffed hair. He was notorious for his unethical practices, but since rich white assholes were incapable of being fired, it was your self-appointed job to protect Will from him.

Though, recently, you had to admit two things.

One: you may have been the tiniest bit biased by your fondness for Will, and two: your feelings toward Dr. Chilton had been softening.

Not long ago, Chilton had barely survived being tortured by a former patient, Abel Gideon. The sight of him on a medical gurney cradling his own internal organs in his arms was a horror that would be burned into your brain for life. He may have been an incompetent jerk whom Gideon had every right to want revenge on, but he didn’t deserve that.

You didn’t think he would survive, but in a few weeks, like magic, he was back to play Will’s jailer, a cane in hand but no other sign of the trauma he endured.

Too little sign of the trauma he endured, honestly. After all, he was only hurt because of his own meddling—using psychic driving to convince Gideon he was the Chesapeake Ripper in order to achieve the fame and glory of having treated the Chesapeake Ripper.

But no, he was still bursting full of egotistical remarks and ambition, if a little short on organs.

“I see the experience hasn’t humbled you one bit,” you commented upon his return, when he gloated about the accolades he would receive after writing a book about Will Graham.

“Funny, it almost sounds like you wanted me to be gutted,” he retorted in a pleasantly upbeat voice with a sharp undercurrent.

His rich-boy superiority complex did make it tempting to punch him in the face… but disembowelment was going too far.

Something changed after that. It used to be that you couldn’t wait to get away from him, but now you found yourself wanting to stay and fight longer, your cheeks burning with indignation. Days you weren’t visiting Will, you went to the mental hospital to crusade against Dr. Chilton over ethics and his lack thereof, just for the excuse to see him.

The two of you exchanged cutting banter the same as always, but you found yourself being more civil... or, at least, your heated arguments felt more playful. Sure, you still called him a dirty slimeball, but now it was a friendly roast and not because you hated his (slightly damaged) guts.

It was strange. Every time you argued your heart would pound against your chest in anticipation, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Your breaking point came when you barged into his office and discovered him spying on patients’ private conversations with visitors—headphones on, feet up on his desk, holding a Montblanc fountain pen in his mouth and swirling it with his tongue.

He didn’t startle at your unexpected entrance, as a person who feels shame might do when caught in the middle of something so sleazy. He was completely unrepentant about it. Sliding a headphone off one ear and picking up a glass of top-shelf scotch from his desk, he took a slow sip, and smugly asked, “Can I help you?”

What could you say to that? You felt your face heating up, so you turned on your heel without a word, and left. You finally understood what you had been feeling.

You always took him for a coward—the type who runs crying to mommy the moment his knee gets scraped. But he’d been tortured, brutally, and still wasn’t running away. He got more than what was coming to him, but he didn’t change his manipulative psychiatric practices or grating personality at all.

As infuriating as it was… his resilience was sexy.

Like a switch was flipped, every time you sniped insults at each other, instead of picturing strangling him with his tie, you imagined blindfolding him with it, tying him to a bed and spanking him with his cane. He had the cutest way of shimmying his shoulders when he was trying to be coy about a secret, and that smarmy little crooked smile he made when he thought he was winning used to infuriate you, but now it caused an aching between your thighs.

After weeks of this, he cornered you in an empty hallway. “Do not think I haven’t noticed you are here far more often than you need to be. You didn’t even talk to Will Graham the last two occasions you paid a visit. What is it, then? What’s your angle? Keeping an eye on me for Crawford?”

“Isn’t it obvious?,” you scoffed. “I want to fuck you.”

“Huh,” he vocalized with detachment.

You’d expected him to be flustered by the bold declaration, or to jump on you immediately. Not to coldly look you up and down like you’d handed him a strange puzzle piece to analyze.

It must have been a long time since he’d been intimate, considering his reputation as a Grade A piece of shit. But apparently he wasn’t that desperate.

To be honest, you weren’t even sure what his orientation was. You may have been completely off base.

“Fascinating, really. For someone who called me… what was it? A ‘morally corrupt assclown,’ you must be in a dire state to consider propositioning me. You know, as a respected psychiatrist, I can recommend some literature on sexual dysfunctions.”

A cold, satisfied smile spread over his thin lips and you realized if your attraction was one-sided, he held all the cards. You made the mistake of delivering him a massive advantage over you, and you were going to make a fool of yourself. He was relishing the power.

There was still time to backtrack on the vulnerability you’d accidentally exposed while he was still trying to figure out if you were joking. But you were around profilers, psychiatrists, and investigators with hidden agendas all day, and you grew weary of conversations having ten layers of meaning and obfuscation.

The honest truth was, it would be nice to get laid.

“Well? Are you interested or not?” You dropped your voice and stepped closer to him, inches from his face. He smelled so clean, like hospital antiseptic and spicy aftershave. His breath hitched as your leg brushed the inside of his thigh—that’s it, that was the reaction you wanted. “Do you want to fuck me, Dr. Chilton?”

Oh, he did.

A barely audible whine rose from the back of his throat, and his hands were around your waist. “I suppose so,” he said, still a little too clinically, though a hard bob of his Adam’s apple betrayed him. His eyes met yours. They were the color of an ocean wave crashing on the beach; an honest, North Atlantic wave that you might find at Chesapeake Bay—not some perfect crystal-blue wave from a tropical paradise. “It couldn’t hurt to let off some steam.”

“Precisely,” you nodded. Just two adults doing the logical thing. That’s right. No squishy vulnerable feelings that could be used against you. Just relieving tension.

He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you hastily into the nearest unoccupied space. The door to the cramped supply closet clicked shut, and he leered at you with eyes that seemed to glow with hunger in the dark. You felt pleasantly like a small animal trapped with a wolf about to be devoured. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine and sent heat rushing between your thighs. Before you knew it you were flipped standing with him pressed against your back, pumping into you with muffled moans—as frenzied with desperation as you’d fantasized he would be—as you braced against a metal shelf crammed with pens and packs of post-it notes.

He was strong. You had expected his suit to hide the flaccid body of a sedentary academic, fragranced of old books, but when he pulled your hips into his your body moved.

After finishing inside you with a ragged, tortured breath (barely choking back a too-vulnerable moan), he hastily zipped himself back into his pants and left you to clean yourself up on your own, without so much as a nod to ceremony or pleasantries. That was the end of that, you figured—exactly what you asked for, no more no less. Little did you know, Dr. Chilton had no intention of leaving things off at one quickie in a closet.

Before you left, he pulled you into his office and provoked you with lewd remarks about fucking you on his desk—so you knocked the clutter off it onto the floor to make room. He shrieked like a toddler as his very important papers and very expensive office décor went flying, having neither thought through the actual consequences of desk-sex nor expected you to call his bluff. His beautiful seawater eyes went wide as you pushed him back on the broad mahogany surface and climbed on top of him. Then you were riding him, chasing your climax with his well-manicured hands kneading your ass cheeks, pulling you deeper and deeper with each stroke of your hips. And still you wanted more. You wanted to fuck him into next week.

And then you were in his unreasonably lavish home, in his unreasonably, decadently oversized bed, his mouth feverishly working your heat, and you repaying him by making him come over and over until it was torture, until he could no longer hold back the whimpering sobs of pleasure as he fell apart, and he passed out from fatigue. You collapsed next to him on the bed, panting, sweating, and shaking with over-stimulation.

For a moment you considered the snoring body of an unsavory man you had exhausted into submission, lying naked and leaking fluids onto two-thousand-thread-count sheets, and briefly considered calling a cab. Then you went to the bathroom for a towel to wipe him off before curling yourself around him under the covers.

*****

Morning found you nestling in his soft light brown chest hair, tracing your fingers along the raised red scar that divided a third of his torso like an autopsied cadaver. He flinched a little when you touched it, but remained impassive. A reservoir of sympathy swelled up within you.

“You pity me. That is why you wanted to sleep with me all of a sudden,” he said, deciphering the meaning of your look. “I’m not complaining. Apparently, to be fortunate in bed requires only that one be tragically disfigured. You are drawn to wounded birds.”

The corner of your lip screwed up like you swallowed something bitter. It’s… probably not healthy to desire someone purely out of pity, but he was right. You never felt anything for him until you felt sorry for him. But that wasn’t all there was to your relationship… was it?

“The instinct to nurture and the instinct to hurt are both strong human emotions. They’re primal,” you speculated.

“Trying your hand at psychoanalysis? I would leave it to the professionals, darling.”

“Would you?” You tilted your head innocently. “Then how come you’re still practicing?”

He clutched his chest and feigned being wounded.

Grinning, you buried your face back into his hair. “Arguing with you was always exciting… trying to land a stinging blow. Now I see you hurt, and I feel the need to protect you, too. You tickle my instincts, I suppose. Like cold ice cream on hot pie. What can I say?”

“Hmm, a plausible hypothesis,” he nodded idly at the ceiling, one brow lifted. “I’m not sure that that is any better, but as previously mentioned, your motivations are not of particular interest to me.”

“Charming. Let me phrase it another way, then: You have a very punchable face, but since you’ve already been eviscerated, it takes the fun out of it.”

“Well, and I was going to offer you breakfast…”

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Raúl Esparza #Hannibal #my writing #very excited to start the sequel sooooon!

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psychologyserviceannoucement · 3 years

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Do I have to go to Therapy? What if I don’t want to?

There are a lot of people who are excited by the idea of treatment. They’re eager to have a space to safely discuss the thoughts and feelings they’ve been struggling with. However, not everyone is so enthusiastic. To many other people, therapy sounds far from appealing and that’s perfectly understandable. It can sometimes be difficult to open up about negative emotions, if you're even interested in doing so. Being in front of a stranger with a clipboard in a place meant for “crazy” people doesn’t necessarily make it any easier or more inviting. It’s reasonable for anyone to be uncomfortable. No one will deny that it’s a strange position to be in. With that discomfort in mind, some people would rather not go to therapy if it isn’t strictly necessary. They might wonder if their problem is severe enough to justify that discomfort or if there are any alternatives to it.

First of all, it is worth clarifying that there are other forms of mental health treatment aside from individual, face-to-face therapy. Depending on what you find uncomfortable about it, you might prefer something else. If you don’t like being alone in that setting, you can participate in therapy with a group of other people with similar problems. Alternatively, you can take your loved ones into sessions with you for support. If you have a difficult time communicating in social settings, therapy can also be conducted through video calls, over the phone, and through chat. If there are specific topics and feelings you would rather not discuss, you’re welcome not to. You never have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Some forms of therapy also involve working with music, art, animals, or being physically active. It would be worthwhile to consider what exactly is causing your hesitation and if it can be surmounted. It’s the job of a therapist not to judge their clients regardless of what they say or do. Personally, I brought a stuffed animal with me to my first several therapy sessions and it’s fairly common to see other patients use other comforting objects or do other comforting actions. Ultimately, therapists just want you to have access to treatment. They’re in their position because they want to help people. If all that takes is a small request, then they’d be happy to accommodate to the best of their ability.

But maybe your concern isn’t with the format of treatment, it’s with the core requirement. Maybe you’re not comfortable talking about your feelings, regardless of setting. Is there any way to avoid that? Well, only partially. There are certainly some kinds of treatment that involve talking about things less. Psychiatric therapy would be the most notable example. This form of treatment focuses primarily on medication and doesn’t really engage in talk therapy. However, it’s not as ideal of a fix as it may sound. Keep in mind that while a psychiatrist will talk to you less about your feelings, they will still ask about it to some extent. That may involve discussing symptoms, discussing a disorder’s onset and development (including possibly traumatic events), and other personal information. Moreover, while medication is a fantastic resource that helps countless people, more typically it is only recommended that you seek it in combination with other forms of talk therapy. There are not many circumstances in which someone would be recommended only psychiatric treatment without anything else. Those who do rely purely on psychiatric treatment are not always able to find success in their recovery. Granted, everyone is an individual. There are always exceptions and that may very well end up being the case for you. However, statistically it is less likely to work out that way. It is safer to look into talk therapy at least in addition to psychiatric therapy and I strongly recommend you prioritize it that way.

So is that it? Are there no other options outside of talk therapy? Technically there are, but they get less accessible and more clinical as you go on. Electroshock therapy doesn’t involve any talk therapy at all. Nowadays, it’s a consensual, safe, and painless medical procedure. Although, it’s typically targeted towards treatment-resistant conditions that have persisted through most other forms of treatment. It wouldn’t be appropriate as a first option. Neurosurgery can sometimes be an option as well, but I imagine that’s not really appealing either. The problem is when you ask a question like “can I get treatment without seeing a psychologist or talking about my feelings?” what you are essentially asking is “can I treat an illness without ever seeing a doctor or telling anyone what my problem is?” and the answer is kind of no.

I understand the hesitation, really I do. Therapy isn’t fun. A lot of the time it's awkward and vulnerable and scary and hard. I don’t blame anyone for being intimidated by that. However, the unfortunate truth is that if you want to get better, you need to get treatment, and the treatment that exists is talk therapy. That’s not an ideal solution. It would certainly be better if there were a quick and easy fix that you could take without discomfort or inconvenience, but as of right now, there just isn’t. There are a lot of conditions in the world that exist without good treatments. Diabetes requires frequent blood tests and other apparatus. Gastrointestinal issues might call for a colonoscopy to identify. The treatment for certain cancers can be worse than the condition itself. It’s awful and it's not fair, but that is the nature of being sick. Treatment options vary depending on the condition. You should feel free to research the possible treatment for your own and choose between them. But it may very well be the case that the options available to you are not to your liking. Getting better may require doing things you don’t really want to. It might mean going to therapy and it may mean talking to someone about yourself and there may not be any alternative.

So does that mean you absolutely have to go to therapy no matter what? Well, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You’re perfectly able to refuse any form of treatment. With few exceptions, you can’t be forced to do anything. That being said, there will be consequences to that decision. Depending on what you’re struggling with, you may not get better over time. In fact, things may even get worse. If it’s bad enough, it might just end up killing you outright. If you choose not to get treatment, those are the risks that you have to take on. And maybe that’s ok with you. Maybe your symptoms are tolerable enough that you wouldn’t necessarily mind spending the rest of your life with them. Maybe the possibility of things getting worse is worth it to avoid meeting a therapist. I talk to a lot of people about treatment and they fall on both extremes of the spectrum. Some of them are easy to convince to seek treatment. Some of them prefer to watch and wait. And some people would genuinely rather die, knowing full well that is what will happen. Ultimately, the choice is yours. It’s not my place to tell you what to do and no one really has the power to stop you. However, those are the sorts of possibilities you need to be considering.

Realistically, what do you think will happen if you don’t seek treatment? Perhaps your condition often feels like something you might or should be able to handle on your own. However, if you’re being honest with yourself, is that what you think is actually going to happen if you continue to try and address it alone? You know more about your condition than anyone else. Thus I would trust your judgement on the matter. Keep those consequences in mind when making your decision. If those potentials aren’t appealing to you and you’re willing to take action to avoid them, then there are a lot of resources available to help you do so. Despite how it may appear, talk therapy is a very effective treatment for a variety of conditions. However, if you choose not to seek treatment, you should understand what that decision really means and what it may lead to. In either case, I hope you have enough information to come to the best conclusion for yourself and be happy with that.

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duchessofostergotlands · 4 years

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Hi, jess! Since we’re talking about reality tv, I’d really like to know your opinion on sth that’s been the hot topic in my country these last couple of months. What do you think about people with mental disorders participating in reality shows? I’m currently watching a (now popular - because of the pandemic) reality show called “a fazenda” (the farm). It’s a bit like big brother, but with somewhat famous people (a couple of big celebrities + lots of b-c listers) having to deal with farm duties, like taking care of cows, chickens, etc. It’s wonderful, kinda trashy and I love it! The network that streams the show is very shady (it supported bolsonaro) and it clearly doesn’t know or care about how to approach delicate subjects. Here’s the thing: one of the participants has borderline - the show hasn’t disclosed this info, the audience found out by googling her after she had her first major fight on the show (she has a highlight on her ig in which she talks about being borderline). The discussion we’re having: is the network exploiting her by using her mental disorder as entertainment? Should they release an official statement about it to avoid public misconceptions about her? The participants who aren’t her friends have said incredibly prejudiced things about her, suggesting she likes being “crazy”, “retarded” and “not normal” because this supposedly “helps her get extra tv time” - this is infuriating because she’s clearly in pain when they provoke her. These horribly ignorant people even found out how to triger her and are actively using this to try to make her physically attack them, which would lead to her being expelled. From what the audience can gather from short clips now and there, she’s taking her meds as usual and is being assisted by a psychologist (at least!). Personally I don’t think there’s a problem with having a person with a mental disorder on a reality show, because she has the right to participate and shouldn’t be discriminated because of it - but as long as the show doesn’t exploit her and approach the subject responsibly. The silver lining is that I’m seeing LOTS of people supporting her on social media and completely disagreeing with the other participants’ behavior - her public approval is much bigger than theirs; the admin who’s taking care of her social media during this period has been posting about the subject and invited a psychologist to talk about it and answer a q&a sent by followers. Anyway sorry for the huge text! I really value your opinion and would love to know your insights

Hey :) Well thank you for asking for my opinion, that’s always sweet! We had The Farm here ages ago, I never watched it but I remember it making tabloid headlines because one of the celebrity contestants “stimulated” a pig.

Well firstly I don’t think a mental illness should disqualify anyone right off the bat. Different conditions will have different challenges, different people with the same diagnosis will present differently, and different reality shows will bring out different challenges - like it would be different to be on something like Bake Off which is generally supportive and you can go home and be with your family in between challenges versus Love Island which is a show here largely based on attractive people getting off with each other so there’s a lot of tabloid attention, a lot of pressure to look a certain way and they’re all cooped up with no contact with the outside world for weeks and often plied with alcohol. There’s also a difference between having a diagnosis and actually still displaying symptoms at a clinical level. Lots of people with BPD like me show less symptoms as they get older until they’re sub clinical but they may still be branded with the diagnosis by others or feel they want to keep it themselves. And even someone like me who very much still deals with their condition on an active basis, I still have legal competence to make my own decisions and it’s infantilising to suggest a diagnosis of a mental illness automatically disqualifies you. So as much as possible it needs to be an individualised process to decide and the reality show needs to be honest about what it will entail. I don’t know about over there but we have psychiatric evaluations for our reality shows. I don’t know how good these are but if they are robust and informed by people with the specific conditions then I think these can be a good way of deciding if someone can actually handle the specific challenges of that show. One evaluation is not going to work for everyone, it needs to be someone with specific expertise in that condition.

If someone with a mental illness is accepted on the show then something that’s missed out a lot in the UK and probably elsewhere is the care during and after the show. Firstly they should have a specialist on hand who can identify when the contestant is having a more difficult time and if it’s necessary to have private, off camera check ins with them about their mental health. And for BPD and other severe conditions like schizophrenia or bipolar these people can’t just be psychologists. Being a psychologist doesn’t mean you have the knowledge to deal with the specific condition. There have been some suicides of reality show contestants over the last few years here and a lot of blame has been pointed at the producers and studios for not supporting people when they leave the show and are suddenly famous. There should be a clear care plan that is specific to their needs and the producers and studios need to commit to ensuring that the level of care provided is fit for purpose. Sending an email with the name of a psychologist with general expertise is not enough. Some people may require regular sessions with people with specific qualifications and they need to be willing to commit to that for the safety of their participants.

I also think when it comes to the point around disclosure, nothing should ever be confirmed without the person’s explicit consent and them being able to approve any wording about it. Even if they’ve talked about it openly prior to going on the show, it would be exploitative to me to release a statement about a contestant’s specific health issues without first checking with them. If they do feel that the way things are being portrayed could negatively impact her long term health then I think they have a duty to raise it with her even if the show is ongoing and decide if she would be happy for it to be shared. If it is, I think the tv channel or whoever is releasing the statement should accompany it with links to support services and helplines and should invest time in promoting resources which explain BPD - or the condition the person has - and humanises people so that the bigoted views being spouted on the show are not able to go unchallenged. I’m really glad to hear the person managing her social media is using the opportunity to share info and that people are responding well to it. If the show does ever acknowledge it then I think they would have a responsibility to participate in those efforts, it shouldn’t be down to her team alone.

#ask #15billionyears #non royal #reality tv #mental health #mental illness

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donnerpartyofone · 4 years

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idk if you've talked about it, probably have. but if you don't mind to again, ketamine injections for depression? did it work? was it expensive? how long did it work for? ty.

dang, i never got a notification for this message. sorry! ketamine absolutely worked for the management of my depression, it was very expensive, and i think i would have needed more for it to become a longer term solution. i may still go back in the future if my lifestyle changes, but for right now, i can’t justify the cost--which is an insane thing to say when what i’m paying for is freedom from hurting myself, but, ya know, CAPITALISM.

the whole story is, i’ve been severely depressed my whole entire life; i don’t have any memories that don’t involve feeling morbidly upset, and i can remember things pretty sharply from the time i was slightly younger than 2.* i took ketamine recreationally some years ago when i was around 30 (i wasn’t adventurous about substances until i reached about that age), and i was totally astounded by how it affected my depression both during, and for weeks after the experience. it seemed to distance me from the oppressively immediacy of my bad feelings, giving me space to actually THINK about what was really bothering me, what kind of control i could have over how i assign importance and authority to things that don’t serve me, and what i might like my life to be like in the future. so, when i found out that there were ketamine clinics in new york, i kind of freaked out. actually, i found out about it from a guy who i met on an ayahuasca retreat upstate (which is its own hilariously mortifying story that i’ve been trying to write down for years and it keeps turning into a big unwieldy novel), who had been through the entire gamut of treatments for major depressive disorder. he liked his ketamine experience, but admitted that it was prohibitively expensive to keep up.

this is the place i went, and i recommend it to anyone who can afford it:

nyketamine.com

they say that they accept patients selectively, if you have treatment-resistant depression. i don’t know how strict they are about that, because by the time i came to them, i was looking pretty treatment-resistant. i’d been in and out of a few shrinks’ offices, and i’m basically incapable of taking any of the usual antidepressants because of how they affect other conditions i have. the process was, i filled out a request form on their website, and in a day or two, a clinician called to interview me over the phone about the character of my depression, and to gather some other anecdotal information about my history and health. the person i spoke to was very kind, attentive, and reassuring. the following day, someone called to set my first appointment. the whole reason i was able to do this is because of some inheritance that i received at the time; it’s $450 a session, and they suggest (or insist? i’m not sure) that you begin with a minimum of 6 sessions, each of them 2 days apart. after that, you just kind of monitor yourself to see when you think you need pickup sessions; the effect is cumulative and long term. i have no idea if they have any type of sliding scale accommodation, it could be worth asking.

when i went in for my first session, i had a brief interview with the head doctor, a navy veteran and anesthesiologist who had been working with ketamine in various capacities for 50 years. he explained a lot of things that i had no idea about, that were great to learn. periods of prolonged stress, especially while your brain is still developing, can result in a deficit of the neural pathways that you need to experience a full range of emotion; essentially, being chronically depressed and anxious can kind of give you brain damage. if you have that type of problem, it doesn’t matter what you do to try to boost your serotonin or dopamine or whatever; it’s like if you’re trying to get somewhere in your car and you can’t, not because you’re out of gas, but because the bridge is out. for some reason, ketamine switches back on the function that builds those pathways, so with regular therapeutic applications, you can actually heal the structural problem around your mood centers that’s reducing your emotional range to anxiety and depression. if you’re over 60 or so and your brain is less plastic, your chances of success aren’t as good as when you’re younger, but there’s always a chance; also, for some reason, ketamine plays especially well with estrogen, so women have a bit of a leg up. anyway, the doctor was great, and i really liked everyone there; it felt like they all knew they were doing something meaningful.

the sessions themselves are pleasant. they put you in a private room in a big cushy medical chair with a blanket and a pillow, and you let them know if you want the lights on or off. they give you an IV drip that lasts roughly an hour, and they communicate with you to figure out the dosage. you basically just tell them what feels comfortable, if the dosage they start you on is too low to notice. you won’t get something that puts you in a K hole, but you should enter a gentle dissociative state where you feel a little numb and floaty, and you might have a lot of interesting abstract thoughts. the worst part of it is just how bad you have to pee by the time the drip is done, when you’re still feeling a little anesthetized; sometimes i wound up looking at the bag with my flashlight to check if i had finished, and then i’d just press the call button to get them to come unplug me before i pissed my pants.

you’re not supposed to necessarily notice a difference right away, but you should detect a change in mood after a few weeks. i did. the way my disorder works is, most days i just have a low level background radiation of sadness and exhaustion, even on a “good day” when things are working out or i’m distracted by things i enjoy. when i wake up in the morning and realize i’m conscious and the time for sleep is over, my first feeling is disappointment, 100% of the time. then, i’d say roughly once a month or once every couple of months, i have a complete nervous collapse where i’m in so much pain i can’t really do anything but like drool and cry and let my eyes go out of focus, for anywhere from 1-7 days. there will usually be an apparent trigger; i’m a fairly dysfunctional person, and i frequently lose things, break things, and fuck things up even though i like STUDIED to do them, took it slow, asked for help, gave myself extra time, etc. but the thing is, i think the “trigger” is arbitrary, this is just a cyclic psychic event that builds up and waits to happen. but after my first battery of ketamine treatments, i had a particular day when i could tell that normally, i would quickly wind up curled up at the bottom of my bathtub scream-crying until i couldn’t move--and this time, i managed to just push through. not only did i not break down, but i actually got a number of difficult chores done, that i had put off because they seemed too intimidating, or like i wouldn’t be able to mentally handle my inevitable failure. i noticed more and more of that, while i was in proximity to the treatments, an ability to just buckle down and keep going. so it’s not like i felt HAPPIER or something, but i felt much more capable of coping, which was like a miracle honestly.

it’s been about 3.5 months since i last went in, and i think i could use a booster appointment, but as i said i just can’t fit it in with my financial reality right now. so, that sucks. but, i definitely feel that it was worth doing, and i would recommend it to anyone who can shoulder the cost. hopefully in the future, ketamine will become a much more common psychiatric treatment, and it will become available to more and more patients.

*A friend of mine just told me he read somewhere that you don’t actually recall memories from like 20 years ago, you just remember the last time you recalled them--so like, i THINK i remember my parents struggling to give me drops for pink eye in our first apartment when i was about 1.5 years old, but in reality, i just remember the last time i remembered it, or the earliest time i’m able to remember remembering it. pretty interesting! and kind of disturbing, like the idea that star trek-type teleporters don’t actually transport a person, they just DESTROY the original person and rebuild a new one on the other end, a thought that REALLY BOTHERS ME.

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shrinedrug74 · 3 years

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Ocd Treatment Southampton.

Kid Art Treatment.

Content

Impact On Quality Of Life.

Professional Therapy For Co.

Couple Therapy For Depression (iapt).

Magical Reasoning Ocd: My Nightmare.

They try to fight it off and also they try to run away from it, since that's what we perform with enemies. People with panic attack experience episodes of powerful physical worry which lead them to believe they will die or blow up. People with social anxiousness problem have episodes in which they fear making a humiliating show and tell of their anxiousness and shedding everyone's respect and also relationship. Obsessive uncontrollable episodes entail anxieties of causing some calamity, like refuting the area by negligent use of the cooktop.

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For instance, some individuals locate speaking prior to a group exhilarating. But others fear it, ending up being nervous with signs such as sweating, fear, a fast heart rate, and also shake. Anxiety is a feeling of anxiety, concern, or unease that is a regular human experience.

Impact On Quality Of Life.

Doctors also ask whether loved ones have had similar symptoms, due to the fact that stress and anxiety disorders tend to run in households. Stress and anxiety problems can be so distressing and conflict so much with an individual's life that they can bring about anxiety. People that have an anxiety disorder go to least twice as likely to have clinical depression as those without an anxiety disorder. When a person's action to stresses is inappropriate or an individual is bewildered by occasions, an anxiousness disorder can arise.

As an example, stress and anxiety related to bereavement/loss needs to not be treated with medication unless it meets these standards also if it creates severe distress and/or disorder. Panic disorder is an anxiousness problem qualified by reoccuring panic attacks, which often occur for no apparent reason. Since the physical signs and symptoms of an anxiety attack can be so undesirable, individuals who are susceptible to experiencing anxiety attack come to be very scared in anticipation of the next strike.

Specialist Treatment For Co.

It is also existing in a wide variety of psychiatric problems, consisting of generalised stress and anxiety problem, panic disorder, as well as anxieties. Although each of these problems is different, they all feature distress and disorder especially related to anxiety as well as fear.

What makes a good child therapist?

1) A great child therapist has experience working with children similar to yours. Your child's therapist should have education, training, and or experience to help reduce your child's symptoms. Treatments for OCD should explain her “scope of competency”. That's what the child therapist has her expertise in.

This creates a vicious circle of anticipatory anxiety, further including in the panic as well as spurring on more strikes. Individuals experiencing generalised anxiety condition experience anxiousness around daily life occasions in a manner that interrupts their daily performance. Someone with GAD will really feel nervous or strained most days, have a great deal of pondering ideas as well as will most likely have difficulty keeping in mind a time when they last really felt calm or kicked back. After years of living with stress and anxiety, panic disorder and terribly distressed feelings bordering my social anxiousness, I was operating on vacant concerning the tools to manage anything.

Pair Therapy For Depression (iapt).

In the warm of the minute of high anxiety and panic, these worries of disaster show up influential. In the initial circumstances, those suffering from anxiety needs to be provided accessibility to a support system and self-help details suggestions by their physician. If this doesn't aid, or the anxiety is much more extreme, emotional treatments such as cognitive behavioral treatment and/or used relaxation are recommended. To comfort set up an account, , she states, 'Since we know that there is a trouble, there are things we can do to aid you.

From light nerves to large panic, anxiousness is a natural action to demanding circumstances, as well as one that can aid us respond suitably when we remain in danger. However, for those living with an anxiety condition, sensations of worry or fear aren't a sensible action to outside circumstances-- they are a disruptive and dominating influence. They may take out from social communication with friends and family. Work can likewise be stressful for people with basic anxiousness problem they might take some time off. This is a vicious cycle as it may raise the person to worry a lot more concerning themselves and also hamper on their self-confidence. Prior to treating anxiety, very first establish whether it is pathological or non-pathological. Stress and anxiety is a normal human feeling which needs to not call for therapy unless disproportionate to the context in which it takes place by either level or period.

Magical Reasoning Ocd: My Problem.

Utilizing CBD products can reduce rapid heart rate, panic, shivering as well as shivering muscles and also general body tension. By alleviating these symptoms, CBD can minimize the overall anxiousness one experiences. Marijuana can likewise deal with nausea, palpitations and also sleeplessness that go along with stress and anxiety problems. A methodical review including 12 regulated trials that examined the proof for the effectiveness of acupuncture in the therapy of anxiousness and stress and anxiety disorders. Ten of the trials were randomised, four concentrated on acupuncture in generalised anxiety condition or anxiousness neurosis, and six concentrated on stress and anxiety in the perioperative period. No researches were situated on the use of acupuncture specifically for panic disorder, fears or obsessive compulsive disorder. Doctors try to find other problems that might be creating anxiety, such as clinical depression or a sleep disturbance.

#cognitive behavioral therapy online #cognitive behavioral therapy techniques #cognitive behavioral therapy near me #cognitive behavioral therapy examples #cognitive behavioral therapy definition #cognitive behavioral therapy nhs #cognitive behavioral therapy for anxiety

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xlivethroughthisx · 3 years

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I’m 14 years old. I’m sitting in the office of a therapist I have accessed through the government-funded Family Services department. I started seeing this therapist when my parents found out I was cutting myself. I have two best friends. The first also cuts, and the other shares my penchant for thinking about killing myself. Our conversations go something like this:

“If you died, I would kill myself.”

“Me too. I love you so much I would definitely kill myself if you died.”

We don’t talk about why either one of us would die, or why we so often talk about killing ourselves. We do talk about how we would do it, daydreaming together. Our top two choices are the train tracks and the bridge. Sometimes we sit on the train tracks together until the train comes.

I’m sitting in the therapist’s office and I hand her a poem written on a sheet of lined paper. It is the first time I tell someone other than Savannah that I want to die. Except I don’t say anything; I just hand her a poem about how I want to die. The therapist looks flustered and leaves to talk to her supervisor. Most of the therapists here are students; that’s why they work for the government and why my parents don’t have to pay for me to see them. The therapist leaves me on the couch, a band-aid on my fresh cuts. I’m terrified. She comes back after a few minutes looking reassured. We don’t talk about the poem.

My plan was to jump off the Lions Gate Bridge in the middle of the night so that no one would see me, and no one would know what happened to me. I would walk to the bridge and lean over the railing, staring into the blue-green abyss. It seemed so close I could reach out and touch it. I was too scared to jump.

Suicide is like a childhood friend. It lives in my sternum, always ready to offer comfort. It’s a place I can go to in my mind. It’s a red EXIT light in a dark theatre. It’s the piece of string I trail behind me, my way out. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, it’s not a friend anymore. It gets loud and convincing and seductive. It’s not enough to daydream. It demands more. I’m restless and thinking about killing myself doesn’t settle me. It pulls at my pajamas and beckons me outside; tells me to get serious.

I’m 20 and in my second queer relationship. I leave my first love for a woman who is 27 and makes fun of my newness, my inexperienced crush. I move to a house two blocks from hers. She wants me when she is lonely. She takes me to dive bars and ignores me while she flirts with other people. She calls me in the middle of the night and asks for sex, so I lace up my sneakers and walk to her door in the pitch dark. I feel electric when we’re together. A live wire cut loose on the highway. I leave while she’s sleeping, crawling back to my apartment sore and empty and numb. When she decides she doesn’t need me anymore I start cutting my legs. I pray for death every night. I’m still too scared to die.

I fall in love with a woman who loves me back. I believed love was supposed to feel like fear, so I don’t recognize it at first. It settles in my stomach warm and bright and sure. I still want to die. When I tell people I want to die, they either believe me or they don’t. The ones who believe me look unsettlingly deep into my eyes and ask if I’m safe. They encourage me to go to the hospital and offer to take me there. The ones who don’t are the ones who work at the hospital. I go because the people who believe me really want me to stay alive and I believe that the hospital is where you go when you’re sick. The ones who don’t believe me tell me I have such a strong support system. I have so much to live for. I’m doing so well at school and work. I learn that I need to convince them, so I answer all their questions honestly. Yes, I want to die. Yes, I know how I would kill myself. Yes, if I leave here, I will kill myself. Somehow, I still don’t think they believe me. It comes across in their eyes, their smirks, their chuckles. But they are required to hold me because it’s the law. They rip the band-aids off my forearm, letting me bleed. They make me strip naked and take away my underwear. They give me a set of paper pajamas and thick socks with huge smiley faces on them. I sit in a hard plastic chair waiting for the psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist arrives laden with paper bags from Nordstrom. She ushers me into an examination room. It’s midnight.

“Why are you suicidal?”

“I don’t know.”

She chuckles.

“I think it’s because you didn’t learn your dialectical behavior skills properly. You should re-enroll and complete the program again.”

My desire to die crescendos to a fever pitch. I failed therapy and need to repeat a grade. “I’m really tired. I just want to go home and sleep.”

She turns to my girlfriend: “What do you think? Are you able to keep her safe?” My girlfriend looks at me, exhausted and heartbroken, and says yes.

“Okay. I think we’re going to admit her for a couple of days.”

My stomach drops. What’s happening?

No one tells me what is happening, but I know I will be arrested if I try to leave and they have my clothes. I take an Ativan and fall asleep waiting for the ambulance to transfer me to the psychiatric hospital. At 2 A.M. someone wakes me up and ushers me into the ambulance. I remember the paramedics were kind and warm and made me laugh. I remember the paramedics were the first to show me empathy. The paramedics drop me off at the nurses’ station and answer a questionnaire with my head and eyes swimming. I have excellent blood pressure. I sleep in a single room until shift change when I’m moved into a room with three beds. Over the next four days, I sit in the sunny art room and draw with pastels. I eat the most heartbreaking food out of a plastic tray. I feel worthless. I meet with a psychiatrist and tell him I don’t want to die anymore.

The psychiatric hospital is located on my university’s campus. The university where I am enrolled as a fourth-year psychology honors student. Where I work in two labs studying depression and suicide. It’s July, and I can see summer students milling around the lawns. This is the first time I learn, deep down, that hospitals are not where you go when you’re this kind of sick. I learn that there are no therapists in psychiatric hospitals, and psychiatric hospitals are designed to humiliate, subdue, and punish. I learn to keep quiet if I want my freedom.

Over the next year and a half, I want to die every day. I’m angry all the time, at everyone. I’m fired from the job that had tethered me to life. I lose relationships because my anger burns and spits. I don’t kill myself because the love I feel for Rachel is louder than the suicide screaming inside my head. I don’t kill myself because my baby brother needs me. I am rejected from graduate school and I can’t imagine a place for me in the world. I fly to Pittsburgh to present my honors thesis at the North American Society for the Study of Personality Disorders. Every day I wrestle the thoughts into submission. It’s a hard and sweaty fight. I hurt myself to keep the thoughts quiet. I pour boiling water on my skin because I need it to hurt worse.

After I graduate, the thoughts get quieter. It’s a slow fade, helped by the absence of constant rejection and criticism. I can’t hear them every day, only every few weeks. I have lived with them for too long to believe they are gone, and I relish each quiet moment that the pain is soft enough I want to stay. There have been months now since I’ve opened my skin. I decide not to pursue graduate school in clinical psychology despite my honors degree and I stop working in the lab. I don’t know who I am without these things, but I know that these things make the pain too loud. I care for babies and watch the seasons change. I grow a vegetable garden and feed hummingbirds and chestnut-backed chickadees and red-breasted nuthatches. I don’t know what I will do or where I will go if the thoughts get loud again, but for now, I live in the quiet.

#coral more #storytelling #lived experience #suicide attempt survivor

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florencefallons · 4 years

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Life and Stuff

August 10, 2020. The the first day of the most insane month of my life. Of course it would happen in 2020. I hope you’ll forgive me for using this platform as a means to get the thoughts jumbled around in my head out into a more organized form. I rarely ever even use this platform anymore. When I do, it’s to reblog pictures of Carol Burnett or Barbara Stanwyck. The occasional Emma Thompson photo. Never to sit down and spill out everything on my mind into what, very likely, will become a novella on its own.

I’m not a prolific speaker. I trip over my words. I say “um,” and “uh” a lot. My brain is moving at twice the speed of my mouth and my poor mouth can’t keep up. Therefore when I have things on my mind, like I do today, I can’t just talk about them. A) Who would I talk about it to? and B) Even if I had a place to talk about these thoughts, it would come out all jumbled up and I’d end up sounding totally ridiculous and having said nothing I wanted to actually say.

When it comes to expression, writing is where I’ve always excelled. Excelled is a strong word, but when you compare it to other forms of self expression, it’s the only form I am able to use proficiently. I don’t have a vlog or a youtube channel. I don’t have a blog that reaches people. I have no voice. No influence in this world. But I have this platform and it allows for posts like this, and for once, I’m going to use it.

As I said, August 10, 2020 was the first day of the most insane month of my life. More has happened to me in this one month span than has happened to me at any other time in my life...and you’re hearing from a person who was injured on the job and has had a fractured spine and 13 surgeries. I’ve been through some stuff. Nothing with the intensity and frequency this month has thrown it at me though. This month has resulted in seven major events that have deeply impacted my life in some way. Nobody is being forced to read this. In fact I expect most will see its length and scroll past it faster than a fundraising ad for Donald Trump. I do hope SOME of you will take the time to read it though. I’m mainly writing it for posterity. To have a place where this month is recorded, so I can come back someday and remember it. So, with that being said, here are the things that have happened (or are soon to happen) in this 1 month span. Listed in chronological order.

1) August 10, 2020. I was in my 2nd week of work at the new clinic our hospital opened. Working for the largest hospital and clinic system in the state, sometimes our clinics outgrow our ability to contain them. My job was in the neurology clinic. I worked as the nurse who took care of all the multiple sclerosis doctors and nurse practitioners, while answering all the patient questions, emails, and voicemails. We’re looking at about 2,500 patients on the generous side of the estimate. Needless to say, I was busy. It was said many times by coworkers, by the doctors I worked with, and--admittedly--by me, that the job was a two-person job. It was too much for one person to handle. I was drowning fast in a mountain of paperwork that needed to be filled out, messages that needed to be answered, phone calls that needed to be returned. I’d accomplish finishing, say 25% of the work, and 50% more work would come in. I was at the end of my rope.

--Let me interject here by saying that, over the course of the 16 months I worked this job, I had to start seeing a psychiatrist, I had to start psychological therapy with a licensed therapist, and I was started on no less than 5 new psychiatric medications. Once the correct balance was found, I was reduced down to only 2, but regardless, I think this fact alone proves the point that the stress of the job was getting to me.--

I finally looked at the mountain of work in front of me and I broke. I set up a meeting with my boss, the director of nursing for all of the neuroscience service line (that covers 6 clinics). We met, and I told her “You told me to be open and honest, and to come to you whenever I have an issue.” She agreed. I went on to tell her that I was losing my mind. The workload was entirely too much to hold over one person and needed help. Desperately. I was constantly being interrupted by people needing help with this or that, which was fine. I don’t mind helping anyone, I love it...but it took away from the time I had to do my already overwhelming job. I may have cried some, I don’t remember.

Her solution was probably the worst idea ever put forth, but I was so devastated and down and overwhelmed, I didn’t really even hear anything she said after I spoke my piece. Her suggestion was that, if our clinic was too hectic for me, I needed to transfer to the new clinic. It was an epilepsy clinic but we had 2 multiple sclerosis providers there too, so I could go there and be the MS nurse there. At that moment, that sounded like a great idea. Fewer people=less stress. Yeah, no. Once she sent me over there, she decided with me being there, they had no need to keep our patient care tech there. So she took her away and made her work at the main campus, where they have tons of patient care techs. That left me and another nurse who, due to a bad knee, did very little that tinvolved getting up off his ass and helping out with goings on in the clinic. He much preferred to sit in his fancy chair and delegate duties to me from there. I was younger, I was newer, and he was--in his mind--the charge nurse.

So, thus began the saga of my doing at the new clinic, the job that THREE DIFFERENT PEOPLE did at the main clinic. I was forced to triage (get into a patient room and go over everything to make sure it was up to date) every patient, draw labs on every patient, all while trying to do the job I was ACTUALLY hired for, which was answering phone calls and returning messages. Which was a full time job on its own. Needless to say, my “new’ duties took all that time away and all my stuff went unanswered. I kept getting harassed by patients and managers that stuff had been sitting waiting too long to be done.

Mr. Charge nurse, from his chair he never left, didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. “It’s not that bad here” he’d say. Sure, if you never have to get up and do anything, but for me, it’s very hard. I have to do all the job of a PCT (getting paid nurses’ wages by the way) along with a job just as busy as the one you’re having to do. I’m expected to do as much if not more in the computer as you do, yet I never have time to touch it because I’m always triaging patients (half of which are YOURS) and drawing all the labs. Well of course he disagreed and said he helped and I was overreacting. By that he means he maybe got up once or twice a day because someone needed attention and I was still busy in another patient’s room. My boss would berate me, asking why my inbox was sitting there so full and nothing was being done.

“WHEN DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THESE THINGS *Insert her name here*??? I spend my entire day, I mean my ENTIRE day, doing the job of a PCT and you’re paying me to do the job of an RN. “Well, *insert his name* says he helps you.” That’s a damn lie and he knows it. He thinks that he’s the charge nurse, he’s older, and he has a bum knee (mind you I have my entire lower half of my spine fused so don’t give me that “I have hardware in my knee” bullshit. I’m full of titanium too. Fight me.) Well, help was refused, the other nurse was just told to try and help more and that he was not the charge nurse, that our clinic didn’t HAVE a charge nurse since there were only 2 of us. Well, he got so butthurt over that, he interviewed for a new job in the same building as our main clinic. He was offered the job. He was getting ready to give his notice and I was literally at the end of my sanity. So I turned in my notice to my manager on August 10, 2020. I told her I couldn’t keep doing the job of 3 people by myself and it was too much I was through. My doctors begged me to stay. She asked if I was sure that’s what I wanted. I said it wasn’t what I WANTED, but I can’t keep working like this. So I really don’t have a choice. “Well we don’t have the staff or money allocated to give you a tech if you’re over here.” So I shrugged, said I was giving her 4 weeks notice and I’d have to leave.

This was a Monday. On Wednesday, she came back and not only gave our tech back, she gave (*insert his name here*) everything he wanted, because she’d caught wind he was getting ready to leave too and she’d have no nurses at the clinic. I told her I’d retract my resignation if she would let us keep our patient care tech, because with her, I have time to actually do my job. She all but said “OK” and to give her a definite answer on Monday. So I did. Monday I told her I’d stay since we had adequate help. Well apparently she discussed thsi with her boss and came back at me with “Sorry, but all we can accommodate is an as needed position or you can extend your leave date and stay on full time until your replacement is hired and you can train them to make the transition easier.”

Are you freaking serious, bruh? “As needed” meaning “free reign to fire you with no consequences when we don’t want you anymore, plus all my benefits would be taken away.” Or, I could “stay and help train my replacement.” Are you out of your mind? Then what? Fuck off into the sunset, your job here is finished? I think I’ll take a hard pass on both those options. My last day will be September 4.

So, while going through all this I was being tested and was diagnosed with not one, but two life-altering disorders.

2) First, I was diagnosed with severe attention deficit disorder. I was told I’d actually had it my whole life based on testing and had never been evaluated or treated. This would have been the 1990s when this started, and I found out my parents were approached about the possibility I had ADD. I made excellent grades, but had major problems with impulse control and talking too much and paying attention. My parents dismissed this suggestion. They did not--and to this day still did not--believe ADD was a real diagnosis. They said ti was nothing more than kids who needed their asses beat and they’d learn to behave. I could not possibly be one of those hyperactive kids who suck in school and just all-around do poorly. I did too well in school. I was told to pay attention more and stop goofing off. I was threatened with spankings if I messed up. So I worked really hard to stop my impulses from taking over. And I did, some, but not always. I got punished quite a bit for things I did in school. Not on purpose, but it’s how I was. And now, as an adult, I was still struggling with impusle control and with paying attention. I still struggled in prioritizing tasks and organizing things. I could never figure out why my brain wouldn’t let me do those things. My PCP said I had ADD--he KNEW it--but I had to be diagnosed by a licensed psychotherapist. So I went and was diagnosed. And it changed my world. It was a lot to process, knowing what I went through as a kid and knowing the punishment I went through for something that was not my fault. I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t mistreated. If I’d been treated for ADD as a child though, I might not have just done well in school, I might have kicked ass. I might have been valedictorian rather than 6th in class to graduate. That was hard to swallow. Yet a relief at the same time.

3) Went to the sleep clinic and got a take-home sleep apnea study kit. It came back positive for sleep apnea. My oxygen was dropping to 70% at night, which is basically hypoxic, and the reason I’m probably so sleepy all the damn time. As soon as I get home from work and get settled, I fall asleep for at least an hour, maybe 2. I haven’t always done that. I used to have trouble sleeping to the point I needed Lunesta for help (although the taste was so bad I rarely took it).Sure enough, I need CPAP when I sleep to help keep my oxygen over 92%. They told me I’d feel better almost instantly. So I’m hoping to go see them next week about getting my machine.

4) My friend’s little 4-year-old niece died. She was a special, miracle child who touched so many lives it’s insane. She was a beautiful soul. I never met her but her death affected me profoundly because her aunt posted so many photos and videos online. I felt like I lost one of my godchildren or something. It hurt. I can’t imagine what they are going through.

5) My uncle Jerry died. The day after the little girl I just mentioned. I can’t even attend HIS funeral due to COVID and the risk of contamination. My mom is on a chemo drug for an autoimmune disease that destroys her immune system. So we’re trapped away from everyone (if I want to see my mom that is).

6) My last day of my job was today, September 4, 2020. It finally came, my time there is done. 16 months of hard work down the toilet. Because of poor management, shitty leadership, lack of care or respect for employees, etc. I offered to stay, but my offer was rejected as it was given. It just served to remind me I made the right decision, even if it was a bit rash. Several others have quit or gotten fired so staffing will be interesting. My old “charge nurse” is about to learn what getting off your broad butt and helping is all about now. They aren’t sending him ANY nurses to help him next week. I’ll be honest, I hope the whole thing blows up in (insert name here)’s (my director’s) face. she is trying to run the neuro clinic like she runs her other clinic--which is TOTALLY DIFFERENT. I thought she’d be good for the clinic, turns out she wants to get rikd of EVREYONE who has FMLA-Anyone who has permission to be off work without fear of repercussions. She wants a bunch of “as needed” staff so she doesn’t have to hire full time people, she doesn’t have to pay anyone benefits, and she can get rid of them whenever she likes “your as needed position is no longer needed,” without going through all the bullcrap red tape the state puts you through to fire anyone. Anyway, bottom line, today was my last day at a job that--the job itself--I loved. The patients I loved, the doctors and nurses I loved, and my coworkers I loved. I have never left a job I loved. It was 100% management. My main doctor, the medical director of the service line, did not want me to leave and keeps asking me to say. I had to explain to him I tried, but they refused. Broke my heart. He’d take me back in a minute though, if the situation at the clinic ever changes. I hope it does. He was the most brilliant, kind, generous, respectful, patient, and dedicated man I’ve ever met. He taught me a lot. I’ll take a lot of what I learned from him with me wherever I go.

7) The final thing has not happened just yet, but it will be very soon and I’m already dealing with it. So September 7 is the 1 year anniversary of the death of my best friend. I still miss her like it was yesterday. Time has, as they say, healed some of the wound, but not all. Every now and then I get slammed with the realization she’s gone. I’ll never see her again. Talk to her. Hug her. Laugh with her. Ever. Again. And I cry and suffer with it all over again. That is happening less frequently, but it has picked up again now that 1 year is approaching. I can’t believe it. My best friend has been dead for 1 year. The 1 year anniversary of the last time we spoke was August 20. It hurts so much. But slowly, over this year, I’ve started dreading getting up in the morning a little less, I can breathe again, a little. I can laugh again without feeling guilty about it. I’ve finally hit all the 1 year milestones with her death (well, as of 9/7). I’m going to her grave this weekend to place some special things I purchased in honor of her 1 year anniversary since her passing. Damn I miss her so much.

So, this month--this whole year technically--has been a lot to process. A lot to find out, a lot to digest, and a lot to grieve through. I keep thinking “it can’t possibly get any worse, maybe things will get better now” and it always does. That trend for 2020 doesn’t bode well with the election coming up. That makes me so nervous I feel sick. But I refuse to get political here. If you’ve stayed with it this far, you have tremendous stamina and I salute you. It’s taken me hours and several breaks to write thanks to my ADD and just being sleepy and falling asleep in the middle of typing. But that’s it, my month inside the year straight out of hell.

#2020 #August #September #Year from Hell #I can't deal with much more #hell month #loss of job #loss of family member #loss of child #quit job #loss of best friend #1 year death anniversary #please end soon 2020 #let life improve PLEASE!

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hongism · 5 years

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finding beauty in your darkest places - chapter 6

Pairing: ot7 x reader for now

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 7643

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Note: please know that nothing in this story is meant to be a glamorization of any disorder, this is meant to be a real approach and depiction of these things, and i did a LOT of research prior to writing this about every disorder mentioned so that i was careful about what i wrote about each one. I am trying to be as knowledgeable as possible in terms of the content written within this story. I do not intend to glamorize any disorder within this story whatsoever.

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: thank you so so much Mari for helping me out with info and stuff, that helped so much uwu <3

Chapter:

5 | 6 | 7

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 6: Black Ink

The hum of the refrigerator continues. The sound burrows its way into Jungkook's system, filling the silence and the pit in his gut. The granite counter top is cool under his touch, and Jungkook draws meaningless patterns against the surface with his index finger as he listens to the sounds around him. You sit on his left, staring at the counter in a similar way, but you are motionless. Then one more seat over, Yoongi resides, one hand resting lightly on your lower back as he rubs small circles against the fabric of your white shirt.

If someone were to ask Jungkook how he arrived at this position — in the kitchen at five or six in the morning beside two fellow patients with a stony faced nurse a couple feet away — he isn't sure he would be able to explain. The lack of sleep and hectic nature of the past few hours has all but wiped his brain of any functioning thought aside from panic. Panic. Nothing new or foreign to Jungkook, yet this time, it bears a different nature than the panic he's so used to having reside in his system. For once, it's panic for a person other than himself. The man who came into the kitchen out of the blue, who spoke in such an odd and broken manner, and ended up collapsed on the floor. Jungkook believes that his brain stopped functioning properly in that moment, because since then, he has not been able to keep his mind in order long enough to remember anything.

Except, he does remember going to Yoongi's door and knocking with an immense amount of force, then nearly falling into the room when Yoongi opened the door. Once Jungkook was able to spew his explanation of what happened in the kitchen, Yoongi didn't ask anymore questions and simply said "I'll take care of it". I'll take care of it. Jungkook withdraws his hand from the counter. The only other thing he said to him before walking off was "Take Y/N back to her room. I'll come by when everything is settled".

So that's exactly what Jungkook did. Followed Yoongi back to the kitchen and watched as he had to physically tear you away from Hoseok. Yea, he remembers that. He doubts he's going to forget that scene any time soon.

"Please tell me you have cigarettes." Your voice is quiet, faint — almost weak if Jungkook were willing to attribute that word to you, but he can't say that he is. He looks up, passing his eyes over your form then to the nurse standing on the opposite side of the counter. Neither Jungkook or the nurse make any sort of comment on your plea; instead, it's Yoongi, which makes the most sense since you look at the man after speaking. A rush of air passing between his lips.

"That's not going to help you."

"I need them."

The nurse draws his lips into a thin line, and from where Jungkook is sitting, he can barely see the slight shake of his head, either in disbelief or disappointment from your claim.

"If anything, this is the most important time for me to have some."

"I don't have any," Yoongi mutters. He fidgets in his seat, hand falling away from your back. "Staff caught me with some last time, so they confiscated them. Why don't we go outside? Fresh air will do you more good than cigarettes." Yoongi stands, stool scraping against the tiles, and looks to the nurse. "Can we step outside for a bit?"

"Yea, that's fine."

Yoongi waits for you to stand up as well, then follows the nurse to the other side of the room. Jungkook remains rooted to his seat, unsure whether the invitation is extended to him as well, but he doesn't want to push his luck.

"Are you coming, kid?" Yoongi asks, and Jungkook swivels to look at the dark haired man at the other side of the room. Jungkook doesn't say anything but rushes over to where he's waiting by a door labeled 'stairs'.

"Thank you," he mumbles to Yoongi, who merely shakes his head. The nurse leads the way down a flight of stairs, and Jungkook likens the feeling of the area to something like an old parking garage — the stiff air, concrete smell, and cold atmosphere -- but it's over soon enough, and they're stepping out into the fresh air. When the smell of nature hits his nose, Jungkook almost has to take a step back as he realizes this is the first time in two weeks that he's been outside. Not that he hasn't had the opportunity to go outside, he definitely has, but he never did because he didn't want to risk someone seeing him playing basketball or sitting outside alone. That's weird and strange, isn't it? Something only a crazy person would do? And I'm not crazy. Jungkook kicks at a few stray pebbles on the concrete of the court, pressing his hands into his pockets.

You linger near the edge of the court, squinting at the sky that still bears thick clouds and leftover stars. The sun is barely beginning to creep up, although Jungkook can't see much of it thanks to the tall buildings all around, and the oranges and reds of sunrise bleed through the clouds.

"Do you have a pen I could borrow, Nurse Simon?"

Jungkook glances back at where you gently tug on the nurse's sleeve, and Yoongi does the same, only holding a much briefer stare before stepping across the court. The nurse digs around in the pockets across the front of his scrubs before pulling out a pen and passing it your way. You immediately stick the back of it in your mouth - a similar action to the one Jungkook saw you do the previous day when he was in your room.

"You play basketball, Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice disrupts his focus. Jungkook turns to the man, who now cradles a basketball under his left arm, and stutters to respond.

"Uh, I-I used to."

"Come on—" Yoongi motions for Jungkook to join him in the center of the court with his free hand "—let's play for a bit." The ball launches at his chest, and Jungkook barely has time to catch it, the force behind the object catching him off guard. He complies though and steps over to the middle of the court. What sort of game is he playing? He's never wanted to speak to me before, let alone interact with me… Jungkook eyes Yoongi, and the other man doesn't pick up on the wariness in his stance or eyes. Jungkook settles in anyways, dribbling the ball from hand to hand as he warms up to the idea of playing.

"What's going to happen with Hoseok?" he asks as he slides around Yoongi to head for the hoop.

"After I got Namjoon, we went to get a few nurses. They took him out on a gurney and said he'd be taken to a nearby hospital immediately. Namjoon asked to go with to make sure he got there safely and such." Yoongi darts in and slaps the ball out of Jungkook's hands while he's distracted looking up at the hoop, and Jungkook huffs in frustration.

"Why did they allow Namjoon to go along? He's just a patient like the rest of us."

"It's due to the fact that he's a "good" patient." Yoongi slides back, shooting for the hoop, but Jungkook hops up and pushes it away from the rim before it can dip in. "He's proven himself to do whatever he's told over time, and because of that, he gets more privileges. Besides, he's not considered one of the "dangerous" patients, so the staff isn't concerned about him snapping or blowing up at any time."

"Oh," Jungkook says as he makes a shot. "That makes sense." Yoongi stands back and watches the ball fall through the hoop. Jungkook watches him, catching the ball before it hits the court.

"Thanks for taking her back to her room earlier."

"It wasn't an issue. She didn't need to see that any longer that she had to." Jungkook shrugs, passing the ball over to Yoongi. Maybe there is a hint of a lie to his words, because it was hard to see you after what happened in the kitchen. After the lengthy and deep conversation he shared with you, after witnessing your interaction with Hoseok, and then seeing your reaction when Hoseok collapsed. That wasn't pleasant by any means, yet Jungkook was given a responsibility. He had to fulfill it.

"I should've been there. I should've known better."

"It's not your fault, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong, and it just happened to be bad timing."

"Bad timing doesn't mean shit when it comes to a place like this."

"Yoongi said he's going to take care of it."

"That doesn't change the fact that I fucked up."

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. Bits and pieces of the conversation he shared with you in your room trickle back into his mind, nothing happy or pleasant to remember.

"I told you, Jungkook. No matter how hard I try, I can't be a good person. Having good intentions doesn't mean shit if you can't live up to them."

"Yea, she didn't need to see any of it," Yoongi says after a moment. This is the longest we've ever talked…hell, it's the first time we've had a solid conversation. "What about you?"

"Huh?"

"How are you holding up?" Yoongi clarifies. "It probably wasn't easy witnessing that for the first time or seeing that sort of thing at all."

"I…I've seen some episodes like that at previous clinics I've been to, but the situations were always different. Nurses were always around to help control the situation and make sure everything was alright." Jungkook and Yoongi stand under the hoop, neither making an effort to play anymore. "It was disconcerting to witness firsthand, yea, but Y/N's reaction was more scary than Hoseok falling."

"That makes sense…" Yoongi shifts his attention to where you're standing at the edge of the court, pen still hanging out of your mouth like a cigarette. "She would never admit it, but that terrified her. I've seen her reaction to this sort of thing before, and it always leaves her shaken up for days. Sometimes I can't tell if she's really gotten over it or has just tried to push it to the side and act like everything is fine."

"If you had really had cigarettes, would you have given them to her?"

"Yes." Yoongi's answer comes without any hesitation whatsoever. "I know it won't help, and it's certainly not good for her in any way. I'm just doing what I can though. If that's the only thing I can do for her, then so be it. It would've been a bad idea no doubt. I can't say no to her though."

"You didn't even question the fact that she was out and about at night either," Jungkook mentions, and Yoongi turns back to him with a slight frown on his lips.

"I didn't need to know why. I don't need to know every little detail about what's going on in her life, to be honest. The things I do for her are enough, and I do them because I care about her. That's that."

"Is…is it the same the other way around?"

"You're drifting into dangerous territory, kid." Jungkook swallows at the warning, and he's almost certain that Yoongi can see the bob of his Adam's apple as he gulps down nothing but air.

"We were, uh, we were talking before Hoseok came by. Y/N and I, I mean. That's obvious though, sorry. But, she mentioned you…and she said the two of you have a good relationship now but it wasn't always that way." Jungkook isn't sure if he's making a good decision in the moment, he might be overstepping his bounds, but he feels that if he misses this opportunity now, it may never come again. Yoongi looks upwards, then passes the basketball back to Jungkook.

"I'm surprised she talked about that. She's not the most open person, although I'm sure you've noticed that. It's good that she's being open with people other than Namjoon and myself."

"What do you mean by that?"

"In all honesty, I can't help her," Yoongi states, tone flat. "The last time I really tried to help her, both of us got burned in a bad way. There's too much there — between us, on her side, on mine — for me to be able to do anything to help really, so I don't push my boundaries anymore. I blame it on our similarities. Since I can't help myself, there's no way I can help her." Jungkook glances over at you. You stare back, brows furrowed and knit so closely together that, from his distance, Jungkook can't see the skin between your brows anymore.

"And Namjoon?" He asks under his breath, gaze flitting away from your expression.

"Namjoon? Y/N and Namjoon are much closer than her and I are, but in a different way. I don't exactly know how to explain it because I don't wholly understand it. The two of them have some sort of unspoken agreement that I've never understood but it's been that way for as long as I can remember. They had that agreement before I arrived and started talking to them though." Yoongi got here after both of them? Then maybe…I thought perhaps Yoongi was one of the ones who's been here the longest, but that proves me wrong.

"She mentioned something about a "different kind of trust" before."

Yoongi breaks into a bout of laughter at Jungkook's words, the gums of his mouth showing as he smiles. "She told me the exact same thing once."

"You aren't like I thought you were," Jungkook admits. He turns away before he can see Yoongi's reaction, shooting the basketball at the hoop instead.

"What? Not as big a douche as you thought?" Yoongi snarks back, swatting the basketball away from the hoop this time. "Don't worry, kid; I'm still an asshole no matter what. It's just about…putting up a certain type of front and making sure I won't be treated like shit. If you act soft and docile here, then you'll be targeted. That's why people like Mingyu and Yesung pick on Taehyung. I'll be honest, not all of it is a front though. I don't take shit from people now because I used to be a doormat for everyone. When you do that, you learn the hard way that that's not how to go about life." Yoongi shrugs before moving back and making a shot for the hoop. "I don't really care enough to be that sort of person anymore, but I guess it depends, because I do enjoy the friends I have and would do anything for them."

Jungkook glances away from the hoop, hearing the swish and seeing Yoongi's coy half-smirk playing at one side of his lips.

"We ought to head back in. We're supposed to be in our rooms after all, right?" Yoongi walks back over to where you're standing with the nurse, and Jungkook follows quickly, abandoning the basketball. "Are you ready to go back inside?" The question is aimed at you, and you nod in response. Again, the nurse leads the way, using a key from his pocket to unlock the door and take them back up to the kitchen again. He stays at their side until they reach the edge of the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and you pass the pen he gave your earlier back.

"Sorry if it's got my spit on it," you remark. A weak grin hangs on your lips, and Jungkook doesn't think you're truly sorry, but the nurse's expression is even funnier than that bit, because he takes it back with a grimace and a sigh.

"Do you feel any better?" Yoongi asks as they walk down the hallway. Jungkook rubs his neck, the exhaustion of staying up all night and dealing with an ungodly amount of stress finally hitting his muscles.

"No," you reply. You kick against the tile, passing Hoseok's open door with a deep frown. When Yoongi notices your expression and lingering gaze, he reaches out and pulls the door shut as he passes it.

"He'll be fine, Y/N. It was just a scare."

"No, it wasn't," you counter. "But you wouldn't understand even if I tried to explain it to you." Jungkook feels the tension spike between you and Yoongi even though he's not standing in the middle of it.

"You're right. I don't understand anything." Jungkook lowers his chin, looking to the right so he doesn't have to see either you or Yoongi anymore. The chilling tone of Yoongi's voice insinuates that a fight is about to break out, and Jungkook wonders if the nurse is still standing at the mouth of the hall to witness this. There's no way he would be able to stop a fight if one were to start.

"That's not what I meant, Yoongi," you sigh, sounding more exasperated than anything. "I was supposed to be there for Hoseok, but I wasn't. I told him I would always be there for him, and I lied. Do you understand that?"

"I was trying to reassure you, not patronize you."

"That's not your job though," you hiss. You steps slow until you're standing still in the middle of the hallway, and Jungkook wants nothing more than to just keep moving but he finds himself slowing to stand beside you anyways. "Besides, you're shit at reassuring me, so why are you trying to do that in the first place?"

"You see, this is why we are better off not talking when we're together. Things that don't involve conversation always do more good for the two of us."

"That's because you can't go five minutes without finding something to bitch about."

"And you have to help everyone in the fucking universe except yourself! Tell me why I can't bitch about that?"

"I don't need you to bitch about that. I'm fine as is."

"Oh, of course. That's so obvious because you seem to be doing great."

"Fuck off, Yoongi. Why don't you try to help me again because it went so well for you last time?"

"Looks who's bitching now."

"Sorry for being realistic."

"If Jungkook weren't here…”

"Oh? What's that? What would you do if he weren't here?"

Jungkook can't handle the pressure any longer, so he clears his throat loudly, bringing Yoongi's eyes to him. The tension in Yoongi's shoulders falls, and he relaxes them before looking at you again. Your lips are drawn into a tight frown, but you don't push the subject any longer, instead continuing to walk down the hallway without further interruption. Jungkook walks alongside Yoongi a couple feet behind you until they reach Yoongi's door.

"Yoongi!"

Jungkook presses a hand to his chest at the sudden outburst, and Yoongi's door slides open to reveal Seokjin behind it.

"Is Hoseok alright?" he asks immediately.

"How the hell do you know about that?" Yoongi counters.

"I overheard you and Jungkook talking about it when he pulled you outside. You both woke me up with that ungodly knocking."

"I-I, sorry," Jungkook stutters. Heat rises on his cheeks.

"I'll update you in a minute." Yoongi pushes his way into the room, sliding past Seokjin to get inside. Seokjin's eyes widen, and he glances between you and Jungkook before closing the door. Jungkook sighs, silence drifting back to him, and walks over to his door. You haven't gone inside yet though, and he pauses to look over at you one more time, seeing you hesitate and stare back in the direction of Hoseok's room.

"Y/N…what happened with Hoseok truly isn't your fault in any way."

You offer a dry laugh, a sound that bears exhaustion, and Jungkook frowns at your back.

"What did I tell you? Even when I try me best to help, I only ever end up hurting people. Makes me wonder why I even try sometimes." Jungkook struggles with a response, but he's too slow anyways, because you head into your room without further ado and leave Jungkook to stare at the white of your door instead of your back. Of course…running away before I can tell you otherwise. Do you not want to hear it? Or do you simply not believe it?

When Jungkook steps into his own bedroom, the yellow light of his lamp still trickles across the floor and over Taehyung's sleeping form. He does his best to stay quiet as he creeps over to his bed. Any of his previous exhaustion has dissipated and the anxiety in his gut provides too much energy for him to feel like sleeping right now. Instead, Jungkook climbs onto his bed, the springs creaking and groaning under the pressure, and pulls his journal into his lap again. Taehyung shifts in bed. For a moment, Jungkook worries that he's woken Taehyung on accident, but he doesn't move again, so Jungkook feels safe to resituate a bit more and get comfortable before scribbling everything he can remember from the whole night.

The conversation he shared with you in the kitchen is no longer fresh, but he remembers most of it — the bits about Yesung and Mingyu, and all your doubts and beliefs about yourself. Then he adds a new page to record what happened with Hoseok from the strange manner of talk he had to his collapse, and he finally has new material to add to Yoongi's page. The only information there previously was Jungkook's concerns about Yoongi hating him and being a complete asshole, but he fills the page now with nicer things, and by the time he finishes with that, the anxiety has settled down. Exhaustion creeps in again, and Jungkook can barely keep his eyes open. He tosses his journal onto his bedside table beside his lamp, shuts off the light, and finally lays down to sleep. Within minutes, sleep hits and he's falling into unconsciousness.

∞

"Mr. Jeon, it's time to get up." Jungkook groans in protest, attempting to pull his sheets over his head to block the sudden intrusion of light and the voice urging him to get up, but it doesn't work. A hand grabs the sheet and tugs it away before he can grab it. "Mr. Jeon, it's time for breakfast. Please get up immediately."

Jungkook squints as he opens his eyes, the light nearly giving him a headache. Across the room, Taehyung is slowly sitting up as well, looking just as groggy as Jungkook feels.

"You both need to get to breakfast on time today because Dr. Choi is going to be giving a talk to all the patients."

Jungkook rolls off his bed and stands up, not wholly awake quite yet. It's Nurse Irene who stands next to him, arms crosses and lips pursed as she watches Jungkook's half hearted attempts to get ready. Instead of leaving as she normally would, she lingers in the room, moving over to wait by the door. Taehyung glances over to Jungkook, their eyes meeting and sharing the same confusion, but neither of them comment on her presence. Jungkook moves for the bathroom first, snatching some clothes from the dresser in the corner first. The reflection in the mirror shows how dead Jungkook feels. Between his puffy eyes and cheeks, Jungkook thinks he looks like a marshmallow with a face. He splashes cold water over his eyes in the hope that it will wake him up faster, then changes into a new set of clothes. Taehyung slips into the bathroom as he walks out.

Jungkook eyes Nurse Irene as he tosses his clothes in the corner.

"Really, Mr. Jeon? You have a basket for those clothes." Jungkook bites his tongue at her comment, wanting to retort but he decides against it. "Thank you," Nurse Irene says when he picks the clothes up and delivers them to the basket instead. Taehyung leaves the bathroom, tossing his clothes in the same corner Jungkook did, much to Nurse Irene's dismay.

"Both of you?" She remarks with a loud scoff. Taehyung freezes, an innocent smile finding its way onto his lips.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" Jungkook asks, pulling Taehyung's attention off Nurse Irene. "I forgot to turn off my light."

"Oh, I slept fine! Did you—” Taehyung cuts himself off. Nurse Irene squints at the two of them. Jungkook presses his fingers into a tight fist. Please don't say anything, Taehyung. Taehyung clears his throat. "Sorry, lost my train of thought for a second. Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes," Jungkook replies with a small shake of his head, making sure Nurse Irene doesn't see the slight action. Taehyung tilts his chin.

"Let's go, you two. Stop wasting time." Jungkook falls into step with Taehyung, leaving the bedroom, and leans over to whisper in his ear as they walk behind Nurse Irene.

"I'll explain more later."

"Okay," Taehyung whispers back. They follow the steady stream of patients, who are also being escorted down the hallway. "Did something happen?"

"Yea."

"Do you think that's why everyone has a nurse with them? They don't normally do this."

"I don't know." Jungkook shrugs. "Why is Dr. Choi coming to give us a talk?"

"What happened last night, Jungkook?" Taehyung asks. A hand finds Jungkook's arm and latches on. Jungkook looks over at Taehyung, finding an expression of panic there. He shakes his head in response and motions at Nurse Irene's back. Taehyung seems to understand his concern and drops the subject, but a new concern rises in Jungkook's mind. We were basically caught last night. What's going to happen now?

As he walks into the dining hall, the first person he spots is you, sitting at the same table you usually sit at. Seokjin and Yoongi sit alongside you, and as Jungkook gets closer, he spots Namjoon's profile peeking from behind Seokjin's shoulders. Namjoon's back. He's back. Shit. Jungkook moves to occupy the empty seat beside him, but Taehyung's grip on his arm won't relent. Jungkook tugs a bit harder.

Taehyung pulls in response, muttering under his breath, "Don't sit there today. Sit with me today just in case something happens."

"I don't understand," Jungkook whispers back. He glances over at you and Namjoon again. You're locked in a conversation with Seokjin, no doubt another medical talk that Jungkook wouldn't be able to keep up with.

"Trust me. We've had talks with Dr. Choi before, and sometimes they end up getting pretty ugly." Taehyung pulls Jungkook over to a different table, and Jimin greets them with a small smile as they approach.

"Good morning!" Eunbi is the one to greet them warmly, offering a broad smile in contrast to Jimin's minute one.

"Hi, Eunbi. You sleep well?" Taehyung says as he sits down beside Jimin. Jungkook joins him and sits next to him.

"Yep! Aside from the nurses giving us a rude awakening, but I guess that can't be helped."

Jimin fidgets in his seat. He looks over at Taehyung, then towards Jungkook before settling his gaze on the table where you sit. He seems to think through something as he stares at your table, then leans over to whisper something in Jungkook's direction.

"Did something happen last night? The nurses are acting weirder than usual."

Jungkook leans in to whisper his response, although he's almost certain that both Eunbi and Miyeon can hear their conversation. "Something happened to Hoseok, but I'm not sure exactly what."

"Oh no." Jimin exhales, eyes growing wide at the new information.

"Everyone quiet down!" They aren't able to continue their conversation thanks to Nurse Irene, who now stands at the front of the room and claps her hands to get everyone's attention. "We are going to pass out food and medications, then Dr. Choi will come in to have a talk with you all." As she speaks, nurses come around with their typical labelled trays. Jungkook stares at his in mild disdain as he recognizes the new — but still familiar — pill alongside his food. He throws the pills back, allowing them to disappear into his system without further ado, but pokes at his food with a fork rather than eating it. The anxiety of Dr. Choi's visit and talk weighs down on his shoulders with too heavy a weight to handle.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long for Dr. Choi to come by, and the man enters the dining hall only a few minutes later, looking the same as Jungkook remembers from his first visit with the doctor. White coat, slicked back hair, and small glasses. Seeing him again proves your point in that Mingyu shares quite a few physical features with him, and Jungkook can recognize the family resemblance now that they are in the same room.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm sorry that we must do this so early, but unfortunately we had no choice. I'll ask that you listen closely for the following few minutes while I explain the situation."

His voice is just as crisp and clear as Jungkook remembers too, the same tone that told him how beneficial his stay would be at Omelas and how fortunate he is to have the opportunity to receive treatment from such a prestigious place. Bullshit. All bullshit.

"Now, some patients may be aware of what happened last night already. For those who are unaware though, two patients broke curfew and the rules by sneaking around outside their rooms last night. Would those two patients please stand up?"

You are the first to get to your feet, no hesitation in your body, and Jungkook spots almost a sense of pride in your hasty movements. Jungkook moves to join you, ready to emulate the same amount of confidence and pride, but Taehyung latches onto his arm once more and prevents him from moving. Upon looking at the man, he isn't sure that Taehyung means to inhibit him, rather Taehyung seems scared and his gaze won't leave your back.

"Taehyung, they know I was out and about already. A nurse saw me this morning," Jungkook whispers, yet Taehyung's grip only gets tighter. Another moment passes, then he responds in an equally quiet tone.

"I don't want her to get in trouble because of me. That's not fair."

Taehyung has him distracted; at least, Jungkook would like to blame it on that, because while he's speaking, Yoongi is getting to him feet and taking Jungkook's place. No no no. What is he doing? What the hell is he doing?

"Were you two the ones out and about last night?" Dr. Choi asks. Jungkook wants to jump to his feet and call Yoongi out for being a liar.

"Yes, it was," Yoongi responds in a steady voice. No! Jungkook tugs against Taehyung's arm. Yoongi glances over his shoulder, eyes finding Jungkook's and upon making eye contact, Yoongi shakes his head ever so slightly. What are you doing?

"Of course it was those two. Shouldn't expect anything less from the likes of them." Mingyu's voice rises now, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter, and Yesung laughs along with the smart-ass remark.

"Mr. Choi, stay quiet." Dr. Choi scoffs at his son's comment, then continues addressing you and Yoongi. "The two of you should know better, and neither of you should be acting out considering how long both of you have been at the clinic. Especially you, Miss L/N. The laundry room was found unlocked and opened, as well as the pantry. Then the two culprits took a volatile patient from his room and caused him to suffer a traumatic episode. Now this patient is residing at a nearby hospital to recover for the time being. Is this correct?"

"N—” Jungkook starts to protest, but you cut him off.

"Yes, sir. That is correct." What? No! It's not, it's a lie. Hoseok found us! Yoongi wasn't involved, and no one took Hoseok out of his room!

"And upon waking up two other patients, Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook, Kim Namjoon did the correct and proper thing by calling for a nurse to help, while Jeon Jungkook remained with Mr. Jung to make sure he was alright. This is what you informed us of, Mr. Min. Is this information correct?"

"Yes, it is." Jungkook bites down hard on his lower lip.

"Thanks to this situation, security will be tightened immediately. The pantry will be locked from now on, along with the laundry room. Any need to go into either room must be check with a nurse beforehand. In addition, there will be staff on night shifts in the halls to make sure that no one leaves their rooms during the night. All patients will need to check in with Head Nurse Dean at breakfast in the morning, and Nurse Irene at dinner in the evening. As for punishments for patient Min and L/N, all privileges will be revoked. For the following undisclosed amount of time, both of you will be accompanied by an assigned nurse wherever you go. Hopefully this will help you both understand the weight of your actions."

Mingyu breaks into laughter at the news, a cruel cackle leaving his lips, and Jungkook sees your shoulders press upwards at the sound.

"Quiet down, Mingyu. Now, this situation is one that must not be repeated. At Omelas, safety is our number one priority. We aim to ensure that no patient suffers any harm under our care, especially not harm from fellow patients. Remember this, and I hope you all learn from this experience." Dr. Choi turns on his heel and walks out of the room. You and Yoongi return to your seats.

"I'll be right back," Jungkook mutters to Taehyung, pulling his arm free of the other man's grasp at last. He slides out of his seat and darts over to one of the empty seats at your table. He falls into the seat between you and Yoongi, his eyes bearing holes into the side of Yoongi's skull. "Why did you take the bullet for me?"

"It doesn't matter, kid. Forget it." Yoongi glances over him then his gaze passes over Jungkook's shoulder and lands on you, lingering there.

"I'm so sorry for getting the two of you in trouble," Namjoon says. He leans closer to you. Jungkook turns to see your hand pressed against one of Namjoon's outstretched ones on the table.

"You did the right thing. There was nothing we could do as patients for Hoseok, and for once, we actually needed the nurses' help. So you aren't in the wrong, Namjoon." Namjoon smiles at your words, placing his free hand over yours.

"Hoseok is going to be okay. He's already woken up, and his vitals look good."

"That doesn't change the fact that I wasn't there for him when he needed me." You pull your hand away, and Namjoon chases after it until you withdraw it to your lap. "There's something else we need to talk about, but I won't be able to tell you with a nurse following me around for God knows how long." You shift your attention to Jungkook all the sudden, dark eyes finding his with an unsettling amount of intensity. "I need to cash in a favor."

"What?" Namjoon and Seokjin say in unison.

"Did you bribe the poor kid for something, Y/N?" Seokjin asks, but you ignore him in favor of speaking to Jungkook.

"Do you remember what Hoseok said to us?"

Of course. I wrote it all down in my journal.

"Y-Yea, I think — I might," he stammers.

"Keep it in mind. I'll need you later, but just…hold onto that thought until I ask for the favor."

Jungkook bobs his head in response, nodding along with your words until you sigh in relief.

"Mr. Jeon, please return to your seat and eat your meal." A nurse steps behind Jungkook, looming over his shoulder and looking over the table, and Jungkook instinctively leans back. You don't say anything more now that the nurse is lurking by the table, so Jungkook stands up and steps back over to his seat beside Taehyung. As soon as he sits down, Jimin hits him with a question.

"Did they say anything about Hoseok?"

"Uh, no." Jungkook shakes his head, staring at his tray of food with little interest, and out of the corner of his eye, he spots the deep frown that comes to Jimin's lips.

"Uh…are you—are you busy after breakfast maybe?" Jimin inquires. Jungkook looks over at the man. A faint red hue paints the apples of his cheeks now.

"No, I just have a vital check and an afternoon appointment."

"Could we talk after breakfast then?" Jungkook drops his jaw, and his lips form a small 'o' as he blinks at Jimin.

"Yea, of course!" He says in a rush, and Jimin smiles in gratitude.

"Oh, can I come along too?" Taehyung asks. He mimics Jimin's smile and looks between both men.

"Tae, you've got a morning class today. You missed the last one, remember?"

"Oh…okay, yea. I forgot about that." Taehyung pouts, pushing the food on his plate around as he slumps in his seat. Eunbi maintains conversation for the remainder of breakfast, although Jungkook finds his focus more on the girl who sits beside her instead.

"She said Miyeon hasn't thrown up in over three weeks — a new record for her — and she seems to be in a much better mood nowadays."

"If this keeps up, then she could be gone by the end of the month. Two months at the latest, I'd say."

I almost forgot that she may be on her way out… That's strange to think about. What if someone else leaves too? Everyone has been here longer than I have, but…I never thought about how they could all leave within the blink of an eye. Would that truly be an issue though? Maybe things would be easier then.

At the end of breakfast, Jimin gets up and pulls Jungkook aside, standing at the edge of the room and watching the other patients trickle out. A nurse joins Yoongi as he heads out, and another sticks to your side when you leave as well.

"Taehyung's gonna beat himself up over this for weeks," Jimin says as they watch you walk out, his arms folded across his chest.

"None of it is his fault though. It was…bad timing on everything."

"Tae doesn't believe in bad timing or coincidence. I know it's not his fault in any way, but he won't believe that. Everything hits him a bit hard, and he blames himself for even minor inconveniences." Jimin drops his arms and shrugs, then motions over his shoulder. "Do you mind going outside for a bit?"

"No, I'm fine with that."

Jimin nods and walks over to one of the nurses picking up the trays from breakfast.

"Can we go for a short walk around the basketball court?"

"That's fine." The nurse leaves the trays in his hands on the table, and similar to earlier in the morning, leads the way to the door at the edge of the room.

Jungkook waits for Jimin to start talking, but he doesn't so they head down the flight of stairs in silence. Jungkook presses his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and braces himself or the rush of cold that comes from stepping out into the morning air. Even though the sun is higher up and offers more light than it did earlier, the air still feels chilly, and Jungkook subconsciously shivers under the breeze. Jimin mimics his actions and shoves his hands into his pockets as well, starting to walk around the edge of the court without waiting for Jungkook to catch up.

"Uh, I just wanted to clear up some stuff we talked about yesterday," Jimin says once Jungkook falls into step with him. "I wasn't completely honest with you when we talked about my history in the clinic. I know I told you that Yesung moved into my room when Hoseok arrived here, but that's not true. In reality, um, I lived alone at the time, so they moved Hoseok into my room. I roomed with him for around six months, but things — his condition got worse over time. I-I didn't lie because I was ashamed of living with Hoseok or anything like that. I…I just find it difficult to talk about.

"Living with someone like Hoseok was both challenging and eye opening. Some days, I would wake up and Hoseok would have no clue where he was. Other days, he would look me in the eye and ask me who I was because he didn't recognize me anymore. Living with someone really helped Hoseok, but I don't feel like I was the proper person for him to live with. I couldn't handle the breakdowns or forgetfulness or any of the other things Hoseok struggles with. Someone better equipped would have been better, maybe someone like Namjoon who seems to have a clear mind and a better grip on his own emotions and troubles."

Jimin pauses. He looks up at the sky, and when Jungkook glances in his direction, he sees unshed tears hanging in the corners of his eyes.

"The real reason Hoseok switched rooms with Yesung was because I requested it. It may have been a lapse of judgement in the heat of the moment, but I was looking out for myself more than anyone else. I didn't take Hoseok into consideration when I made the decision. Anytime I see or hear of Hoseok struggling, I can't help but to think about how I could've done something different. What would have happened if I did something else? Or not requested the switch? Been a better roommate for him? I know I'm rambling now, but I wanted to clarify things. I also felt bad for lying about it."

"I understand," Jungkook responds. "I would've done the same in your position."

"Yea, well…nevermind. I won't keep you any longer, so we can head back inside. It's pretty cold out here too." Jimin jerks his head towards the door. Jungkook follows him over, waiting for the nurse to unlock the door again and take them inside. The inside air holds a welcome warmth, and Jungkook frees his hands from the confines of his pockets now that he's in the warmer air. Once they reach the top of the stairs and step back into the dining hall, Jimin waves one hand at Jungkook. "I gotta go do some checkups and stuff, but I'll see you around. Thanks for the talk."

"No problem. See ya." Jungkook waves back but lingers near the window. Jimin disappears from sight. The nurse who was with them returns to taking up trays from the table. Jungkook weaves between the tables to get closer to the window and look outside. How much is connected? Between Y/N's relationship with Hoseok and Jimin's…where's the overlap? I don't understand how it all fits together. I still don't know how Y/N started helping Hoseok and Taehyung in the first place, or her real reasons for why she does the things she does. I don't know a lot, I guess, but it's too distracting right now. I want out. I have to focus on that, right? No matter how invested I feel in this weird story within the clinic. Of course I want to connect the dots and finish the puzzle but…I want out. More than anything else, I need to be out of here. Back to life, back to university, my family and friends. None of this matters in the long run, does it?

Jungkook balls his hands into tight fists by his sides. I'm not trying hard enough to get out. Too distracted, focused on things other than myself. I just need to focus on showing the doctors than I'm fine and get out before I get in too deep.

Jungkook turns away from the window and walks back to his room with a new resolve on his mind. Once he's gone, none of this will matter anymore and he can go back to his old life without worrying anymore. People he doesn't know, things that don't affect him — he doesn't need it right now, so he just needs to remind himself that it doesn't matter. His journal doesn't matter, any of the stupid information he's written there won't be important when he gets out. Part of Jungkook feels stupid for investing himself so much in all this shit rather than focusing on himself. After all, that's the most important thing to every patient here, right? You said it, Jimin said it — now Jungkook is going to say it as well. He steps into his room with head ducked, looking up only after he closes the door behind himself.

What he sees waiting for him is unexpected to say the least.

Taehyung sits on the edge of Jungkook's bed, and his heart plummets when he sees the object resting in his roommate's lap. It's his journal, cracked open to expose all the secrets Jungkook buried there. Taehyung doesn't meet Jungkook's gaze. He keeps staring at the pages in his lap, finger tracing over the black ink painting the paper.

"Taehy—” Jungkook stops himself as he sees the tear tracts running down Taehyung's cheeks. Shit. Taehyung covers his face with one hand, the other still clutching Jungkook's journal in a death grip. "Shit, Tae, it's not—I swear—I—”

"Is it all true?"

...

a/n: what did you guys think of the chapter? what was your fav part? lemme know here or send me a message! sorry for the cliffhanger~ whoops >-<

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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destroyyourbinder · 5 years

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two articles on psychiatric medication

I'm planning on writing a bigger psychiatry-critical piece soon about how the overwhelming majority of both leftists and trans people that I know believe themselves to be necessarily reliant on either psychiatric medication or therapy or both, and permit themselves (rather, semi-deliberately evacuate themselves of agency in identification with those harming them, I do not wish to victim blame) to be extensively abused by the psychological-psychiatric medical system in a fruitless search of validation for their malaise in some horrible cycle of iatrogenic dependence.

In particular, I know at least two transgender people personally (one male, one female) who are so heavily medicated that I have few compunctions about calling what is being done to them a kind of chemical lobotomy. They have both been left minimally functional and dramatically changed in personality by their "treatments", but both still seek out psychiatry to endorse their transgender interpretation of themselves, despite the fact their doctors are brutally and with little humanity "re-adjusting" them out of inconvenient behavior through repeated hospitalization, high and probably inappropriate doses of lithium alongside multiple other medications, and of course their whole gender treatment paradigm.

So I am continually startled by not only the distinct lack of modern leftist criticism of psychiatric medical institutions but outright collaboration with these institutions. Many people in the broader community-- whether radical queers or lesbian feminists-- purport to value self-reliance and peer support networks, distrusting well-funded and politically undermining officially-sanctioned institutions, but I am not sure I know a single gay person in my everyday life who is not regularly attending counseling sessions of some variety or another or who is not taking psychiatric medications-- prescribed by a psychiatrist that they see monthly or sooner-- that they believe they cannot live without.

One of the reasons I am so critical is that I was once one of these people: I have been on at least fourteen different psychiatric medications in various combinations throughout my life, and both I and many of my doctors believed that I was so critically ill that I could not live a meaningful or even minimally functional life without them. I, or my depression-- we were coextensive, inseparable, my personhood was inconvenient to assessment, I suppose-- was considered so deeply treatment resistant that I had multiple psychiatrists tell me to my face that it might not be possible to help me (of course, while still holding the prescription pad). I was lucky to never have been on lithium or Lamictal, nor subjected to electroshock, but all were floated as an unfortunate but potentially necessary part of my treatment plan. I was indeed considered such a hopeless case that I was actually approved for disability payments for mental illness, without appeal, an extreme rarity in the United States, especially at such a young age (23). I do not know for sure or not whether I could have set the grounds to get my shit together without the intervention of psychiatry-- I did survive long enough to leave an abusive home, after all-- but I do not consider it a coincidence that I did not get my shit together until I stopped having a therapist whispering in my ear and stopped having these substances in my body.

I don't think you can understand the modern transgender movement-- whether the push to identify various gender-distressed people as having a disorder or just niche lifestyle in need of medicalized affirmation, or the ideology that demands we believe that gender identity is an essential characteristic of human beings-- without understanding the history of psychiatry as a coercive practice attempting to normalize the socially abnormal, often in service to extremely oppressive interests, and the history of therapy as inherently individualizing and anti-political, an authority-laden substitute for discernment and appropriate and healthy social feedback.

In any case, I want to keep it short today, and it's with this context I want to share with you two articles, one from the New Yorker and the other from NPR.

The first article, by the amazing writer Rachel Aviv, who has previously covered dense and thorny ethical issues regarding psychiatric treatment and the construction of mental illness, is a critical article about how many modern psychiatric patients come to take consecutive strings of multiple psychiatric medications, coming to have and then losing faith in their doctors and medications to fix their ills. It follows a woman who decided to withdraw from her medications and the people she meets as she must build her own support network during her process of withdrawal, given her unhealthy dependence on the psychiatric network treating her and the psychiatric industry's public denial that medication discontinuation symptoms even occur, nonetheless can have severe and life-disrupting effects. Aviv gives a contextual history and science of the use of several classes of modern psychiatric medications, including their incredible limitations given psychiatry's practice and value system; in a description that will read eerily familiar to any detransitioned woman, she states that "there are almost no studies on how or when to go off psychiatric medications, a situation that has created what he [Allen Frances, chair of the DSM-4 committee] calls a 'national public-health experiment.'"

An important excerpt relevant to both general psychiatry and the practice of transgender medicine and health care:

A decade after the invention of antidepressants, randomized clinical studies emerged as the most trusted form of medical knowledge, supplanting the authority of individual case studies. By necessity, clinical studies cannot capture fluctuations in mood that may be meaningful to the patient but do not fit into the study’s categories. This methodology has led to a far more reliable body of evidence, but it also subtly changed our conception of mental health, which has become synonymous with the absence of symptoms, rather than with a return to a patient’s baseline of functioning, her mood or personality before and between episodes of illness. “Once you abandon the idea of the personal baseline, it becomes possible to think of emotional suffering as relapse—instead of something to be expected from an individual’s way of being in the world,” Deshauer told me. For adolescents who go on medications when they are still trying to define themselves, they may never know if they have a baseline, or what it is. “It’s not so much a question of Does the technology deliver?” Deshauer said. “It’s a question of What are we asking of it?”

The second article, which also contains a longer-form audio interview with the author, is about a new book by Harvard historian of science Anne Harrington called Mind Fixers: Psychiatry's Troubled Search for the Biology of Mental Illness. What I found particularly striking about her interview is Harrington's assertions about the state of psychiatry and psychiatric pharmaceutical research now-- she claims that the psychiatric medication market has stalled because of research finding that many common antidepressant medications work no better than placebo versions, and that pharmaceutical companies therefore are de-investing from psychiatric medication research and development because they can no longer use their previous strategy of slightly tweaking the chemical components of previously monetizeable drugs. She states there have been very few innovations in finding new classes of antidepressant medications in particular (the most easily marketed psychiatric drugs, for whom the target population can easily be expanded).

I think her points here are crucial to understanding exactly why pharmaceutical companies and psychiatry have become increasingly invested in transgender health care and in expanding the market for hormones and transgender-related surgeries through promoting interventions like HRT and "top surgery" as elective procedures suggested as ways to "affirm a patient's identity" rather than "treat a disorder". The gender critical blogger Brie Jontry, a mother of a formerly trans-identified female teen, calls this practice and ideology "identity medicine", a term I find useful to describe the unholy conglomeration that is the individualized medicalization of gender-related distress and the advertising of medical treatments (particularly those provided by cosmetic surgeons) as ways to facilitate self-expression and authenticity. Given increasing attempts by gender doctors to create patients permanently dependent on exogenous hormones (those children left with non-functional gonads after treatment with GnRH agonists like Lupron and cross-sex hormones, or those transgender people who have had theirs removed) or to convince patients that gender dysphoria is a life-long, inescapable condition that they had already failed in not treating/affirming earlier (because you Always Were A Boy), I have to note parallels with psychiatric medicine's anti-recovery, anti-patient-autonomy assertions about other recently marketed drugs such as atypical antipsychotics, on which patients are also purportedly permanently dependent, or antidepressants (as above) where withdrawal symptoms purportedly prove that a patient is doomed to relapse should she cease psychiatric treatment. "Informed consent" and the formation of transgender resources outside a "gatekeeping" paradigm, where patients need not seek insurance approval nor the opinions of several doctors of different specialties for transgender medical interventions, nor wait a set period of time prior to transitioning, is often lauded as progressive and anti-institution by radical transgender activists, who can rightly see issue with a psychiatry put in charge of policing the intimate personal beliefs, coping mechanisms for misogyny or homophobia, and individual gender expression of its patients. However, I can't but see this as part of a new and terrifying medical strategy regarding transgenderism, where a loss of patient agency is replaced with the false sense of consumer choice; we have seen this in other realms of psychiatry, where forms of psychiatric incarceration were rebranded as the choice to take a break or "finally" seek help after self-negatingly denying it for so long, where tranquilizing drugs were rebranded as assistive devices for women struggling to have it all, and where high-risk, heavily sedating antipsychotic medications were rebranded as ways to give other psychiatric medications a "boost" should you still experience unhelpful emotions after complying with psychiatric treatment. "Gender dysphoria" is increasingly nebulous, something you might have had all along if you experienced various forms of generic malaise or failed to have your suffering sufficiently validated and thereby dissipated by psychiatry; funny that we've seen this before with other conditions and their treatments, and psychiatry somehow always comes up with a money-making solution for its own problems.

#medcrit45 #writings

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mattamyers · 4 years

Text

My long journey of healing has continued

It’s been years since my last blog post. I’ve decided I will start to post a log of my days, when my mental energy allows, when I feel well or positive or organized enough to do so. I’m not sure how this practice will evolve, however I’m wanting to actively start sharing my story, where I’m at, so people can start to get to know me - and what my days are like, how my life is hopefully evolving, moving forward - as well as the difficulties I face daily. What’s changed most recently is that the last stem cell treatment I did in the Cayman Islands has improved my executive function and recovery time from activity more, where posting regularly of longer form text seems like a possibility now - at least in this fairly stream of consciousness, limited organizational executive function way. Unfortunately the post-LASIK eye pain (corneal neuralgia) has proved itself to be the mainstay of pain, causing the majority of the executive function disruption, dysfunction. Yes, I struggle dealing with a varying degree of severity of being suicidal. No, once I decide I can’t do this anymore then I will not be letting anyone know - I have already tried multiple times to get help in our healthcare system, to which I was exposed to what in the future will be considered barbaric care provided due to a number of factors, however heavily due to indoctrination and a lack of multidisciplinary understanding and care; as which as I hopefully am able to share, you will see highlighted in my multiyear effort to help save Taylor, a friend, save her from from the broken system and from herself and her coping mechanism, who is trapped in it due to the funnel toward hospitalization and under care of the non-multidisciplinary care of psychiatric doctors - where that profession somehow has been allowed to capture and have a monopoly on a person’s care even if physical symptoms play a primary role in their dis-ease; the system having allowed her dis-ease progression to continue over years - most recently seeing how inadequate and arguably negligent care provided by not only doctors who are in control of her during hospitalization but also by legal aid that was provided her.

I’m not inherently broken, I’m not clinically depressed. As I’ve healed myself further and follow holistic health practices I’ve strengthened my nervous system, and unfortunately that has only had the affect of allowing me to feel pain more clearly, sharply - in higher definition, resolution. I can still smile, have a conversation - story tell and reason. What’s difficult for people to understand is how the constant, strong pain that refers from my eyes (primarily right eye) affects and sensitizes my nervous system - how that is a constant battle that exhausts me mentally and causes my executive function to be greatly impaired as well - increasingly so with added stress, physical or emotional - and tied to that the more potential emotion or stress tied into a decision, with more complex decisions being worse or having a stronger aversion, the more difficult it is to move forward - to get past the pain. Most of my days, weeks, are full of frustrations, exhaustion, of reminders of where I am at and what my life is like - how stagnant it is. I do my best to be on a positive line of thought, to having and being able to hold onto hope - for my projects and toward finding a solution that may help me tolerate the eye pain by reducing it further.

If I can successfully rally my designer friends to be able to help focus me and to help move the presentation forward for my greater plans, my vision for a health-wellness differentiated ecosystem - and ultimately towards building a city to compete with the status quo - their help to develop and refine the plan, then they may give me enough hope to keep fighting through the eye pain until hopefully research finds a solution to heal it with stem cells, regenerative medicine.

January 29, 2020

8:35am

I’ve parked myself now at Balzac’s Ryerson. I took the bus and had three nice interactions on the way. The first was letting someone who was running for the bus and about to get an an almost crammed bus, that another bus was right behind. He thanked me and made sure I got on first. At the next stop a man was at the back doors which I was sitting behind, however no one was getting out - I tried to push the bars to open the door but the green lights weren’t on since the stop wasn’t requested. He thanked me, smiling as he walked towards me from the front. The final interaction was the man sitting next to me, who turned out to one a first year student at Ryerson in Urban and Regional Planning. He was reading a book by Jane Jacobs, which I asked if it was worth reading. I told him first that after high school I first went to Ryerson, in his current program, though filtered myself out after first year due to not seeing myself having that career for the next 40+ years; irony perhaps that all along I was developing necessary skills, knowledge, and experience toward creating my New City and New City model. Everyone else on the bus was relatively asleep, unengaged, unsocial.

8:50am

I hadn’t used my laptop much yesterday, except a little before bed and the screen at a distance - less than 5 minutes really. Today I’m already feeling the eye pain increasing significantly compared to what I felt anytime yesterday, and how much it’s distracting my thinking, mental organization.

9:05am

Since my last stem cell treatment in the Cayman Islands significantly healing in particular my cervical and lumbar spine, I can be more mobile and the pain is reduced enough where if I don’t completely overdo it, I can have some level of executive function to manage myself. However now I am able to experience this contrast of more mobility - which keeps me away from my laptop screen - with how strongly my laptop screen triggers the burning sensation, pain of my eyes (most noticeably my right eye) and its cascading symptoms of headache and fascial tension increasing in my body. My focusing ability is decreasing from where I started before being in front of my screen, however how far it will degrade compared to before, I am still getting used to - however I can feel a building mental exhaustion as I’m having to counter, push against the aversion caused by the increase of pain triggered by the laptop screen light.

9:21am

My right eye more easily wants to shut too, an autonomous guard mechanism to protect itself, compared to yesterday throughout most of the day.

9:50am

I have been wanting to focus on, direct my attention, to finishing - so I can conclude my attention - the past week, especially the last few days, of a very heavily emotional and stressful event where I’ve been trying my best to help save a close friend I’ve known for a few years - to save her from herself, and from our healthcare system that has been adequate and negligent in her care - and is currently hospitalized, again, where he disease progression has been able to worsen because of specific, narrow scope of psychiatric care ignoring the importance of body health — in Taylor’s case needing proper treatment - a safe container, environment - to treat gut, sensory disorder (hypersensitivity; autistic characteristic), and for

“The lesser of two evils” - sharing Taylor’s story from my observations vs. being afraid and not exposing the system with an actual real person, case study to reference in high detail from a narrow and holistic view - while respecting privacy and not exposing any identifiable details that only doctors or other people Taylor shared with could would be the “lesser of two evils” as Taylor likes to say; and hopefully everyone has the integrity and rigor to not share what they shouldn’t, particularly if bound by privacy laws.

10:28am

As the body pain, from walking the amount I have today - from house to closest TTC bus stop, from destination stop to cafe, and around cafe a bit to purchase tea, water refills, and bathroom break(s) - has been calming, desensitizing, localizing - I’m more clearly able to feel the tension and soreness referring from my right eye, down through my right ear, down back of my neck on right side, and so on. When I close my eyes, right eye in particular, the desensitizing, localization can start to unwind relatively quickly before compared to the Cayman Islands treatment - however the discomfort is still quite distracting. I am curious — and afraid to go to acupuncture again, which I went too a short bit before going to the Caymans - not having done acupuncture for at least 2 years — to see how strongly acupuncture now will clear as it does, and how strongly it leaves me specifically and clearly feeling the right eye pain as an intense burning, searing sensation - which last time lasted for 8 hours or so, that sensation only diminishing as my body re-sensitized and therefore masked out the perception of the eye pain; it makes me wonder if others who have done LASIK, if they had clearly flowing, non-stagnant energy to begin or even if doing acupuncture for long enough to open their energy flows up - would experience post-LASIK symptoms differently, more clearly than before opening their body up; similarly regarding Ayahuasca ceremonies, marijuana use, or other psychedelics.

I believe more now too that since the neck and jaw pain has been healed more - reducing the masking, allowing me to more clearly feel what’s going on in these sensitization vs. localization flows/cycles due to pain - that the right eye pain’s referring pain sensitizes (makes hypersensitive) the tissue on the right side of my jaw increases, the soreness, and pain increases - even with limited to no use from chewing food (I haven’t eaten yet today). The sensitization of my teeth seems more clear now too, which at the moment I can feel much more than when I first woke up this morning - in line with the jaw pain increasing too.

11am

I just stepped away to the bathroom to go pee. As I was sitting — something I’ve been doing for a long while because for a long time was too difficult to relax enough to pee standing, my body didn’t trust standing if more relaxed — I closed my eyes and let myself relax as much as I could. During this time I could start feeling muscles in my jaw and face on the right side fluttering, spasming some. I hadn’t felt the jaw muscles spasms, fluttering before, only muscles around and closer to my right eye that I could feel where that’d happen — something I haven’t actually written much about or maybe not even at all; it’s the muscles being able to start relaxing but still not quite able to, with the reduced constant pain of my eye being closed for that short period after sensitization.

I’m able to more easily notice, along side with the pattern cascading from the right eye pain when I open my eyes each morning, when sitting and trying to be in a more relaxed state, in slouching posture and using back of chair to rest again — that my neck still wants to go into a more back and to a right position — something that before I couldn’t as easily allow, because perhaps the guard mechanism pattern was pulling my neck back too strongly, from there being too much pain being referred; it’s possible that that guard mechanism is triggered, such as that if say a “present moment” injury to the eye was occurring — a good, natural quick, rapid action reflex, would be to pull your head back and away; it was only in the last few months that I started theorizing that, and now that I’ve continued to have substantial neck pain from injuries healed - I wonder 1 )how much is still due to remaining injury, 2) how much is due to old patterns that need time to trust the neck and surrounding tissues are safe (as they dance and slowly heal with physiotherapy etc), and 3) how much of that reflex is caused by the referring pain from my right eye?

12:22pm

I can feel that I’m still reconnecting to and slowly processing stress from the last week, the last few days. It’s good, very good that my body can start to processing things emotionally more easily again since last treatment even with a relatively higher amount of physical activity compared to before — but unfortunately still what that means — as to the reason why there was such resistance, difficult, aversion to emotion processing before — that I’m grounding, grinding into my body - with the friction of the aversion to remaining pain — and where the post-LASIK eye pain is still the primary contributor; I do wonder and theorize that there is an abnormal inflammatory response (perhaps EDS related or that causes similar symptoms of EDS) - whether in brain and/or body - that leads to a central sensitization affect [effect?] to cascade so strongly, and therefore that many people who has done LASIK don’t have the same level of severe symptoms.

1:06pm

Taylor just texted me again. I responded saying I didn’t need the fork and plastic container her mother took home to finish the food I brought Taylor to dine with her in the hospital on some quality food that would be safe for her - steak and kale, to get high calorie and nutrient dense food in her, in with what little she eats due to an aversion from years long untreated gut pain and nausea; I said I don’t care to spend the time, energy, or money to go to her mother’s to pick it up, and to take care.

Taylor continued to reply in her usual way which I won’t outline here. She communicates often by referencing songs for how she feels that she believes relates to the current situation. I took that opportunity to then respond in equal by saying the song that came to me was In the Arms of the Angel Sarah McLachlan - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pvf_OBuJVE - as well as to notify her I was blocking her phone number again, and that she can email me if she wants - however that I don’t know how often I will check it; long ago I started having to block her phone number at different points, and redirect her emails to automatically archive - so I don’t see them unless I search for her email, in order to protect myself from being triggered or pulled into what can emails or texts as bombardments to well-thought out pleads that she needs help - intelligent, and eloquent, and an expert seductress as one of her coping mechanisms to bring in various qualities of support, company, as a means to distract herself; always as her most desperate, in her darkest hours, has she consciously and even once subconsciously (where her ego mind boundaries and controls for respecting someone else’ wishes to not contact me through phone directly getting superseded by a short-circuiting of sorts due to how degraded, ungrounded, destabilized her thinking has become — reached out to me again with a different phone number; this has happened 6+ times over the last 2+ years — where I learn more, understand her patterns, and how deeply the inadequate care goes with her recurring hospitalizations into psychiatric care over these years as well.

To be fair, it only feels right to share: my voluntarily hospitalization December 2017 is when I first met her in hospital. I had been struggling for over a year at that point with debilitating pain that severely fucked up my executive function. My decision making, mental organization, emotional processing — and in general anything related to thinking about moving forward — the planning triggering a slight stress as a preparation into the body readying to actually move, causing an aversion due to even thought about moving forward/organization of future — was extremely difficult. The only coping that worked was greatly limiting my activity every day, reducing any possible irritants from diet as much as possible, and usually I’d keep my right eye closed for up to hours every morning after waking up to slow how quickly the post-LASIK eye pain would ramp up and sensitize the rest of my body and its pain, making it hypersensitive to pain. That day in 2017 I knew if I had gone home I would have taken my life, having desperately struggled for around a year by that point to find support to help me with tasks - with organizing, planning — for basic things as well as for finding somewhere to do more stem cell treatments (longer story I won’t share now), with more complex tasks with more steps being more difficult, a stronger aversion, towards acting including on how much emotion would be surrounding or behind the decision or action that needed to be taken.

1:33pm

I’m sitting by the door at Balzac’s - was only window seat available when I arrived. I just got a chill that reminded me that a few nights ago while laying in bed ready to fall asleep, my whole body - both right and left side together, shook in a wave as my body reacted to warm up a bit; I had never experienced or perceived that feeling before, at least not that clearly or in such high definition.

1:40pm

I finally checked a voicemail someone left. It was an automated call to confirm — a 2nd time — for an endocrinology appointment I have coming up to test my hormone levels; another long story to outline the stupidity of understanding this may be a cause to the fatigue I experience or then towards actual diagnosis.

2:04pm

I just went pee again. Relaxed sitting position, closed my eyes, the face muscle fluttering started again. I tried this time instead to do some alternate nostril-breathing (with thumb/pinky to physically block each nostril) to see if it would help - and it did seem to help whatever energy was struggling to flow, to pass, to flow; https://www.healthline.com/health/alternate-nostril-breathing

The amplified symptoms I’ve experienced has lead me to re-realize that the body relaxing more easily while having the eyes closed is natural, a mechanism whereby once your eyes are open — tense your body and fascia for movement, and presumably when your eyes are closed, start to relax your fascia — which at length is during sleep, when you want your body and tissues to be as open as possible for best blood and other fluid flow to be as unrestricted as possible; inflammation is linked to Alzheimers-Dementia as channels in brain that want to open during sleep to clear toxins, waste, efficiently — can’t, it’s easy to conclude that similar dis-ease can progress in the body for rest of the tissues in brain, and where dis-ease state could progress quickly if an overall unhealthy system is already at its tolerance of regenerating, regulating immune system for clearing the body of cancer, etc.

January 30, 2020

Summary of yesterday:

I am roughly transcribing this from an audio recording I made before getting out of bed. I’ve done that a lot over this last year, it’s allowed me to share without getting out of bed agitating the pain, without opening my right eye or having my left eye open much except for initially recording. A friend awhile ago suggested setting up voice activated recording - I just haven’t been able to focus enough, direct myself to that task, with everything else going on; it would help but obviously I do need to open both my eyes at some point during the day anyway, and even if I don’t open them, if I become active with thinking just the movement of my eyes with my eyelids closed increasingly agitates and increases the pain from the eyes anyway.

All I want to finish with saying is to say that what Taylor is going through, it exposes many things that are wrong with our system. I won’t begin to go into the detail here, however I have written much and will continue to clarify and evolve my understanding, write the story, in hopes of saving Taylor and anyone else who is hurt more and left suffering longer by the system; the doctor kept her hospitalized, was forcing a tribunal on her where he’d present a case to force medication on her she doesn’t want (meanwhile after multiple hospitalizations over the years they still ignore and don’t treat her gut pain, nausea - nor care to understand its consequences - nor are they or do they provide safe food for her, nor do they manage and control to only provide food that is part of helping stabilize her). The largest failure is that somehow the field of psychiatry has been given a monopoly on care when mental health is involved - allowing non-multidisciplinary care to continue.

I will leave you with a video to show the new hope coming for all in the near future, that Presidential candidate Andrew Yang tweeted - saying it was the greatest video he’s ever seen: https://twitter.com/AndrewYang/status/1222736120930295808

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7crf0mzhws

10:22am

I finally got frustrated enough to return a phone call to book an echocardiogram. It seemed now that the pain is lower, allowing the frustration to build was easier — and then I could turn that into action much easier than prior to the Cayman Islands treatment. Making this call was a relatively low stress, unloaded decision toward action - compared to say the reason behind and how loaded making an appointment requiring a trip to an eye specialist, researcher in Boston, who I was recommended to make an appointment with - that has a lot of weight, resistance behind it - which I won’t go into reasoning for, having stopped me so far from booking an appointment with him.

Why I need an echocardiogram is part of determining a possible diagnosis of EDS — “Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS) is a disease that weakens the connective tissues of your body. These are things like tendons and ligaments that hold parts of your body together. EDS can make your joints loose and your skin thin and easily bruised. It also can weaken blood vessels and organs.” It seems I have enough symptoms that it’s possible I do. There were two people that suggested it — a person online I briefly messaged with, and then one of the doctors at the stem cell clinics — whereby they were trying to help me problem solve why I report a much higher pain for tissue damage, some of which they can see in imaging, however that I report more highly than they’d expect. I will eventually write in detail about this.

I just realized, as part of an experiment, that reading along while I type helps keep my mind focused, on track, for what I’m writing about — noticing that trying to think to allow fluid flow of thought to continue if not looking could work — simply trying to remember what I just said in order to continue typing without looking — is at least impossible for me at this point, maybe a skill that can be developed or not; it wouldn’t be a useful skill unless someone like me was trying to problem solve how to find ways to reduce the issues related to the post-LASIK pain, some of which I theorize in part has to do — gets triggered more with use of the eyes, the surface and tension changes of the eye has focal distance (and other) changes, from near to far, etc.

11:04am

I think paying to have a space for me to work, a cowering space, would be good for me socially - outside of my current primary destination to be around people, busyness, distractions of Balzac’s cafe. I was reminded, had memories arise, a few weeks ago when I was in a Lyft shared ride that ended up going down around the Queen and Spadina area. I was reminded of the time spent in a coworking space I started working out of with my then new girlfriend and business partner I brought into helping me with I Live Yoga - in particular with outreach and support. Along with the memories were the feelings of good experiences that were able to make it up through the new level of reduced pain from my last stem cell treatment. It made me think at the time that I’d like to get back to that place. At the time I was still unsure, doubtful if I’d ever be able to get there, get back to the point where Anastasia and I were excited about life, in a good routine, working and passionate about a project we both loved — and that was ready to start scaling; my physical pain had started to become too much for me to handle however, and though I struggled to keep things going, at one point I had to give up — let go. The relationship with Anastasia ended and psychologically it was very difficult to let my “baby” go — as is often referred to as an entrepreneur’s project — especially since for at least a year I was using the project as a mental distraction, focus for the pain. I kept trying and essentially being reminded that it was too hard, and then making bad decisions. Ultimately it was the last try two big attempts to keep ILY alive and moving forward, to find to find good, capable people to move ILY forward without much guidance from me were: 1) attempted to hire someone to takeover Anastasia’s role of outreach and support, and 2) hire a local designer — who ultimately took $5,000 from me, an initial deposit out of a first section of work worth $10,000, and ended up doing barely any work. I will eventually write in more detail about this: I will name her as well as a consequence of consequences that lasting forever — karma — until they are righted, or ignored, and then light can be shone for those who pay attention to me — highlighting that this is how this person conducts themselves. These consequences, bad, hurtful behaviour lacking integrity or simply exposing unskilled or underdeveloped behaviour — where a point of learning is the opportunity presenting itself, if only for a safe container was present to allow it. This karma, consequences, trickle through time — allowing for multi-generation dis-ease progression in all aspects of life. Karma is still playing out and trickling through society, our energies, frequencies, decisions — from major suffering and events such as Nazi Germany and every new suffering starts a new ripple that will all need to be addressed. It must all be addressed by individuals. This allows for healing to happen in a decentralized manner — and allows for people at different parts of dis-ease or on path towards healing, enlightenment — being enlightened, developing understanding and compassion — and so even those who may be repressed in places like China, the light will make it through the cracks — which all rigid containers will increasingly have as pressure mounts; whether that is your ego mind’s control, guard of “protecting” you from fear/trauma and scarcity mindset, or a nation state who wants to contain what knowledge and information is spreading; these are both a condition, a dis-ease state, a symptom of ego mind’s greed and control going unchecked within oneself.

When I have kept my movement and activity greatly limited as I still must, I am able likewise to get glimpses and enjoyment at the thought for a goal I had roughly a decade ago: to be leading yoga classes, to further develop my own yoga practice and to guide others to teach them what I learned — also developing my own skill of speaking and holding space while actively guiding people in the present moment.

Someday I’d like to find and be able to afford, and be able to handle the added activity of going to (or perhaps they could travel to me?), singing lessons — so I can improve, develop my voice, for a growing list playlist that I’ve entitled New Life that I’ve been building mostly for motivation, a reminder that I at times have played multiple times daily as a distraction from the pain.

I’d also like to learn basketball, so if I ever decide it necessary to run for Prime Minister of Canada to get Canada on course, then I’d challenge current Presidential candidate Andrew Yang to - and kick his ass - in a game of basketball; a more physical activity that I may never be able to do again however — so I’ll just have to enjoy the thought of being able to hangout with Yang.

11:41am

I still have strong emotional resistance (PTS) to diving into and finishing an update reply for Dr. Trotter on behalf of Taylor. I don’t know if I will get to it today - there’s ultimately no real rush as she’s in hospital and he only returns from vacation a week from now. I need to recover further and be in the healthiest, low activity level, routine again for at least a few days before I will be able to approach the task again.

11:47am

I can quite clearly now feel, notice, that while I have been wearing my reading glasses when writing and on my laptop — I just picked up my phone and was looking, writing some texts, and as I did so — with the straining or even just putting things into focus, that the eye pain very clearly increased as I was doing so; this to me confirms to me, a theory I’ve had over these years especially when my pain level was much higher, that the post-LASIK pain has created an aversion to my eyes working properly, normally, a resistance to changing focal points (as part of the symptoms, part of it disrupting autonomous function including tearing, moisturizing, of the eyes — that LASIK has been successful in dumbing down, minimizing, their #1 symptom of “dry eye syndrome” as something you can just use moisturizing drops as the solution to it); te regulatory capture and unquestioned loyalty or review by the industry and professionals in the field, incentivized by profits, is disturbing - and one of many issues that society must actively become better acknowledging — identifying, studying, paying attention to in order to develop industry-wide critical thinking in all practitioners involved.

1:21pm

I’m starting to allow myself again to checkout attractive women. I guess I’m ready to experiment again to see if the reduced pressure on my nervous system allows me better to manage sexual energy building, and unfolding as that does into emotions and managing of relationships of more potential intensity, emotionally and physical activity wise. Maybe I will start playing with the idea of dating again, making plans with potential partners; an “exciting” idea however one I have had to drop previously the last few attempts due to the pain level still being too high.

1:34pm

I decided I may fast today. That would allow me to — after being tired and mentally exhausted from Balzac’s — to go to Bampot Teahouse and hopefully stay there for a few more hours before I’d otherwise be hungry. It’d also help to more quickly clear the inflammation I caused from the sugar/junk I ate yesterday. If I do this I’ll take the probiotic tonight at minimum.

1:50pm

My body energy is quite low at the moment though — primarily I think as I’m likely out of a ketogenic state, so it might be a good idea to eat something tonight to let my body recover faster anyway.

January 31, 2020

Summary of yesterday:

The day that had become positive, later in the day, after my mental energy being exhausted - grounding me into my body and the pain, the eye pain - knocked me back down to reality again. I can’t date. The exciting ideas or plans for ideas are fantasy. I was reminded that even if I have a very productive or positive day then the next few days when my mental energy is lower, it’s more difficult to impossible to concentrate enough to distract myself from the pain. This last stem cell treatment, as predicted as the pattern has continued, allowed me to feel the eye pain more clearly, feel how it cascades and refer down my body more easily.

I don’t know how I am even going to afford my own cost of living soon, let alone the idea of paying additionally to have a coworking space to work out - as an alternate to Balzac’s cafe that I am bored of going to so often, for so long. And I still don’t have a routine that makes life tolerable. Streaming at night can be nice, however it is mentally exhausting itself. The Joe Rogan style podcast I had thought could be a nice thing to do to socialized, meet people, and chat regularly hasn’t gotten setup and I wouldn’t be able to organize and manage it anyway. Likewise the money I’ve had to spend on stem cell treatments and will continue to need to spend indefinitely on unknown future diagnostics or future treatments is money that originally I had wanted to use to move my projects forward. Ideally I could raise $420k to hire contract workers to help me finish designs and specifications to then find developers to get estimates from - but developing a presentation and putting in the ground work to reaching out, meeting with, family offices to get them onboard and convince them of my plan: $420k, $4.2mm, $42mm rounds and sharing a high detailed plan for each along with an executive summary - the presentation itself will be difficult for me to compile, and then the ground work, leg work necessary, will certainly be too difficult for me due to the highly limited activity I must maintain in order to have more than less tolerable days.

Feb 2, 2020

Summary of yesterday:

I was planning originally to make a “summary of yesterday” - yesterday, but it didn’t happen. It was overall a bad day to which I was just waiting for 4pm when two designer friends, Akshay and Salar, were supposed to come over. They eventually made their way to me around 6pm. It was or wasn’t a very productive meeting. The purpose was to try to help onboard their help so I can try to move my projects forward, in part to decide a path, a strategy for what to focus on - for where they could help me and for where I could try to focus and use my limited mental energy to hopefully guide them towards helping move things forward at a pace that allows me hope.

I don’t know how much to share from the meeting. I don’t want to get lost, summarizing points from last night - of which there are two recordings of to hopefully review at some point for reminders, lost in that my mental focus gets spent where I can no longer conclude this to a point where I am “comfortable” publishing it - where I don’t concern myself of sharing “too much” that leads me to wanting to expand on what I mean, without having to continue a thought by injecting a relatable quote like “first they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win” for how grandeur my vision has evolved to; Gandhi, and as you may be able to tell, I like and tend towards being thorough - it’s a challenge until it will become a gift.

Feb 4, 2020

The hardest part to sharing my experience is that when it is most difficult it is most difficult to share about the difficulty. And perhaps as a natural fail-safe prevention mechanism, if I am to pass there are certain things I want left a certain way, however completing them, organizing them with how difficult the pain already disables me from doing so easily is even worse when I have lost hope and am struggling and too stuck in the pain, and so the final 3 or 4 things I hope to have organized before I go haven’t really been able to get done. I am at the point now where I will just let go and forgive myself for not articulating what should be to expose certain fights for what is wrong in systems in society.

I just got 1 of 5 things done - sent an email as final attempt to try to find someone trustworthy to help my mom finish her house so she has a peaceful place for retirement. 2 of 5 will be posting this. 3 of 5 will be emailing a naturopath with an update re: Taylor although I am no longer hopeful she will have a container that will actually lead her to problem solving her issues, so unlikely anything will come from it. 4 of 5 will be briefly updating long form version of Taylor story. 5 of 5 is trying to compile what I can about the post-LASIK eye pain, what I have tried to heal my body including the eye pain, and how the eye pain has remained the constant and the majority cause of the executive function troubles I have - as has become more and more obvious as I have healed significant pain in the rest of my body nearing having likely more than 10 stem cell treatments now over the last 3+ years; something I would hope to share with the Boston eye doctor/researcher, with the lawyer who filed the Canadian class action lawsuit against LASIK and the doctor who did my surgeries, and in general for the community in general and perhaps the “Lasik Complications Support Group” on Facebook - so maybe anything that I tried would give them insight into what might help them or perhaps help problem solve a solution.

Aside from trying to get these final 5 things written, I no longer am going to attempt to write anything regarding to who would get my business projects, life’s work - Elon Musk and Dr. Jordan Peterson can share ownership if either of them wants my domains, designs, what I’ve written and so on; likely not because they are compiled well enough to transfer - though they would together both be most competent at understanding the ecosystem of platforms, holistic scale, and multidisciplinary health-wellness approach of my plans. I also no longer am going to attempt to fill out a form that is prerequisite to trying MDMA-assisted psychotherapy - a hope I had that maybe it would reduce stress in my body enough to make the pain more tolerable, however I am quite certain it is the ongoing, constant, trauma from the eye pain - though certainly it has made these past years also full of trauma. I am just trying to get myself to an appointment Feb 19th to try AmbioDisk for my right eye, and then to get to 2 more stem cell treatments in San Francisco - however it is difficult to even bother trying to hold on to get to those because the AmbioDisk, if my eye can tolerate it, will only help while wearing it - and it will be a brutal, impossibly strong reminder once I have to expose my eye to air again, and the stem cell treatments though they will reduce pain in my body again - that, as every other time as resulted in, will result in my just feeling the eye pain more clearly, and how it refers out and sensitizes my body.

Feb 5, 2020

One reason I don’t want to actually post this is due to the large amount of explanation that hasn’t happened, describing everything I have tried, all the failures of our healthcare system - especially our “mental health” system - and still where no one has offered me an opiate prescription, so aside from having taken them post stem cell treatments for a few days - I don’t know if long-term it would make the pain and limited function tolerable enough to not constantly be struggling. Having, trying to explain over and over and over again over the years to different doctors, answering the same line of questions over and over and over again - never really getting much deeper into actually problem solving or trying to provide treatment options that may help. I am just done with this Canadian health “care” system - no one is going to know the true extent of incompetence, how broken it is, I don’t see myself being around to write about it. I will try to post the “Saving Taylor” post and update so there is a public record of it, 100% chance it won’t change anything unless someone actively pushes for investigation and change for oversight and accountability.

This is how much I normally struggle, at least 50% of the time I am trying to dredge at the bottom, where it’s dark - but regardless of how well I stick to a routine, to limiting my activity, to eating cleanly, to optimizing to have mental energy to counter the physical pain - to counter the disruption from the eye pain and the executive dysfunction it causes, the baseline dysfunction caused by the eye pain hasn’t improved in years, there is no routine or baseline that is tolerable; the two times the eye pain did permanently improve some with each treatment - first with autologous serum eye drops and then ProKera I did for each eye - the noticeable permanent reduction still wasn’t significant enough; and temporarily the Scleral lenses to be worn for only periods throughout the day, the dramatic executive function improvement I had with them, was impossible to maintain with that relief and function improvement contrasted each day at the end of the day when I had to re-expose my eyes to the air, triggering the pain again fully, and rapidly experiencing the cascading of symptoms - the mental disruption and the tension, sensitization, referring and building through my body; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scleral_lens

The other up to 50% is when I am delusional enough with hope, optimism, waiting for the next “big” stem cell treatment - in fantasy once tricking myself again that maybe this next healing will be different than the previous ones: where maybe my nervous system will reach a tipping point where the impact of the eye pain will greatly diminish due to enough pressure, pain, being removed from my nervous system. It never has happened though. This is where I am in a routine where I am not yet again bored of rotating through different social media sites - Twitter, Reddit - along with some other technology-related news sites, forums. This is when I am not yet completely bored of distracting myself with watching streamers on Twitch or watching YouTube videos. Days when I am in a routine and in a positive enough mood to enjoy and try to engage socially, in a routine going to Balzac’s cafe - taking a Lyft shared ride there and home again. The problem is nothing can actually move forward from this routine and routine itself is flawed in that boredom exists and that routine can’t really change due to the limitations the pain keeps me within; I can go out for stimulation, people watching, but there’s no gain in “teasing” myself if letting myself notice attractive women - teasing myself by allowing myself to think about dating or sex or anything nice, any of the creature comforts that come from relationships of various depths or intensity.

Cost is another factor. The money I have access to currently won’t last forever - and even if appointments like acupuncture or osteopathy would net positive, which I’m still not sure they are which I won’t explain here - at the moment when mostly going to those appointments via public transit, that amount of activity - the additional physical stress on my body on top of the stress the eye pain constantly applies, certainly counters most of the benefit from those appointments; likewise, acupuncture which I only did 3 or 4 weeks ago, and hadn’t done it for likely 2 years prior, allowed me to just feel my right eye pain as strongly and as clearly as I had ever been able to feel it - a strong, searing, burning sensation over the whole cornea that lastly as strongly for the next 8 hours - that searing sensation only diminishing as it slowly sensitized the rest of my body, just meaning it prevented me from properly perceiving it - but not reducing the executive dysfunction symptom. If I am in the better side of the difficult cycle then I regularly, daily, listen to my “New Life” play list - and often listen through the more somber but pleasant Jardim album by Rainer Scheurenbrandt; https://rainerscheurenbrand.bandcamp.com/album/jardim

I’ve written so many times about this pattern over the years, I hate writing about it now too - and why I am now struggling to even bother trying to get myself to a Boston eye doctor/research I was suggested to go to - however after the effort and cost of traveling to Boston, the being out of routine to not look forward to causing additional turbulence in my life the following 3-4 days, and after the $1300 USD cost, just starting cost, there is near 100% chance that no insights nor new treatment option that will come of it; it seems that I also know of stem cell research being conducted in the US that the main plaintiff in the Canadian class action lawsuit doesn’t know about, therefore nor does the lawyer, and likely also not this Boston eye doctor/researcher the plaintiff recommended I see - I’m guessing they don’t know about the mice/rat research from years ago either, the results of are which the human trials are being fast tracked in India; turns out the plaintiff who recommended me to see the Boston eye doctor/researcher hasn’t even gone to see him himself.

There has just been no point in continuing with trying to keep myself positive, optimistic - for as difficult as it is - once I am “flying” in it well enough, life can’t improve - relationships can’t evolve, I can’t move forward more in life. There’s been no point when letting myself mentally get excited about my projects or ideas to fix all of these broken systems - it just causes there to be more pressure, a stronger aversion to fight against, the pain to fight more strongly against - and trying to use executive function to try to move those ideas forward in any capacity, just the attempt adding pressure/stress - and then the potential consequences of trying to find others or spending money to hire others to do an uncertain but large amount of work necessary, is a lot - and certainly more than I am reasonably capable of handling, and even if I had the financial resources to hire and manage a team to do the work - managing would likely be too stressful as well; https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=21885586

I’ve tried twice now from different places in the last 8 months to get a referral for someone to speak to to see if the pain having been reduced as much as it has, if there was any value in talk therapy. Still haven’t heard anything back re: an appointment - though I was doubtful anyway that the physical cost of going to the appointment would result in net benefit anyhow.

And there’s nothing more I can do to help Taylor - the system isn’t going to be able to hold the safe container she needs - other than trying to send an update to her naturopath re: trying to problem solve her gut pain and nausea (that psychiatric doctors haven’t cared about nor understood the dis-ease progression consequences of for years), so I don’t have that hope or drive for effort to try to distract myself with any longer either; I don’t understand how psychiatry got a monopoly on hospitalizations, not only a monopoly but an exclusionary monopoly - where there's no requirement to work with other fields/disciplines, how isn't this considered or acknowledged to be neglectful by default, by design?

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holdmedownlaw · 4 years

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2019 – the year I hope could be the start of my renaissance.

Some people know I have chronic insomnia. I often talk about it with my family, friends and those others whom I think should know about it. But nobody really knows how difficult it is to be battling such illness. The suffering is unspeakable; much worse than I can ever describe it. Allah knows.

It started the night before my birthday in 2008. I couldn’t sleep not because the following day was my birthday but because it was my first day in College. I thought it was just that normal night when you don’t get to sleep “because tomorrow is a special and you are so excited about it.” So I went through my first day in college tired but I still had fun nevertheless.

I did not able to sleep again the following night. This time I was alarmed. What could be wrong why I couldn’t sleep? I went to school again the following day but this time I can hardly managed the exhaustion.

I was not able to sleep again on the third night. I started to feel my heart pounding so hard to the point that it made it more difficult even to just calm myself down. I tried not to lose myself. I’m going to a see a doctor tomorrow, I said to myself. But I didn’t. I am so worn out after that day. Maybe I can finally sleep tonight. But still I had no luck. I started to feel incapable of sleeping. I was getting crazy. “God, I have not slept a single minute for four consecutive nights. I would trade everything to get my eyes shut for even just a few minutes,” I complained to God.

The morning came and I never felt so awful in my life. Later that day, Dad accompanied me to a doctor. I explained how I feel and how I struggled to get sleep. What the doctor did was just gave me a prescription. It was a sleeping pill. To be honest, I was cynical if it could help me get sleep. I believed deep down I needed more than just a pill. I took the pill and tried to sleep. It didn’t work! That time I knew I was screwed.

The torture continued for many, many days. My life was never the same again. As about my studies, I still continued to attend classes despite my deteriorating condition. I just took every class-break I got for rest. And what I mean by rest is that I just lay down and close my eyes and tried to get as much energy as I could get without sleeping to keep me going.

I was able to endure over a month of sleep deprivation. And then there came one night, I was talking to myself, “This is my fate. This is what Allah has ordained for me. I have to be strong and accept it.” I recalled stories of sacrifices of Prophets to keep my spirit alive. While expecting a long night, just like the other previous nights, I closed my eyes. The next time I opened them, I saw the morning light through the small window of my room! I finally get the much needed sleep! I’ve never been so grateful in my life! All praise is due to Allah!

Sleep came back to me but the fear of not being able to sleep didn’t leave me. Every time night falls, the chance of getting a good night sleep is like tossing a coin. And so it did not really last long before insomnia came back again. I was just like given a few nights to breathe and then get back to wrestling again. It has continued to be the case since night of June 13th of 2008.

And just when I thought insomnia could be my only health problem, there came anxiety. It was like that monster who wanted to hurt my almost lifeless body, mercilessly. I did not know what kind of anxiety disorder it really was. I didn’t consult a specialist. I didn’t want to. I just knew I have it. I couldn’t maintain an eye contact when talking to people. Imagine how devastatingly awkward was that and its negative impact on my social life. I lost a lot of friends. My ordeal served like a filter machine that made me identify who my real true friends are.

Sometimes I sweat excessively even in cold weather. I could remember one time in class my seatmate touched my arms and she felt I was soaking in sweat in a fully air-conditioned room. Goodness!

Many years of my life since anxiety touched me were nightmares. It took a great toll in every aspect of my life – relationships, jobs, studies, etc.! Anxiety also made me become critical of myself – my actions and decisions – which I was not used to be before. And when a person sounded so harsh in criticizing himself in front of his friends or family, imagine how brutal he is to himself in the privacy of his head. Although there were many days I had thoughts of harming myself, I never attempted to. But my devastating health condition made me begged God many times to either cure me or just take me.

My family started to notice although I never told them about it. Sadly, the core of stigma covers our home. I tried to learn more about anxiety and discovered that one in every four persons has anxiety. I also sought inspiration from people who advocate mental illness. Indeed, it is true that when you see others fighting the same battle and more if they fight to voice out what the society has always neglected to address, you feel a little better.

Fast forward to year 2019. Its been already 11 years of seemingly endless struggle. Then, in the dark came a friend who has her own story of struggle with anxiety. She became my classmate in law school in my third year. She said she was experiencing panic attacks. Honestly I felt glad there was someone in law school who can somehow relate with the situation I am in. From then, we talked frequently about mental illness until one day I opened up to her about planning to see a specialist. I never thought about seeing a Psychiatrist before. It was not in my options. My parents would not approve either. They’ll kill me for worrying so much about what people would say if they find out I am seeing a Psychiatrist. But I was already in my senior year in law school. I had to seek professional help to survive law school.

Then one day, that friend of mine discovered a Psychiatric clinic located near the school. I expressed my desire to make an appointment with the doctor and she enthusiastically offered to do it for me because she said she personally knew the doctor’s secretary. I accepted. I didn’t ask but I speculated she was also planning to get checked but it turned out later that she engaged the services of another Psychiatrist. Maybe she just wanted to know if the Psychiatrist she referred to me is preferable to her. Kinda weird but I didn’t really mind given the fact that people like us who have anxieties really do things weird.

But before I got to have a meeting with the Psychiatrist, I had to go through my parents first and convince them to let me get professional help. My father was strongly against it. He said people would mock our family because one of its members is mentally ill. Nonetheless, I insistently convinced them to be more open to talking about mental illness and overcome the stigma until they finally permitted me to consult a Psychiatrist. What happened with my meeting with the Psychiatrist was different than what I expected though. I thought that before the doctor issues the prescription, I get to share first the entire story of my struggle - how it started, how it has been affecting my life, how I have been trying to cope up, etc., – sort of a counseling. He did ask me how I felt but the questioning I thought was too fixed and limited. It seemed he did not want a long conversation. I could somehow understand because he still had a long line of clients to treat after me. He diagnosed me with General Anxiety Disorder coupled with panic attacks. Then he gave me four medical prescriptions. I have to take four medicines a day! That was the first time I have to take that many medicines a day and probably the most ever in my life.

The following night after my meeting with the doctor, I took the bedtime pill. I was glad with the result. I had like 3 to 4 hours of sleep. That was much better than not getting sleep at all. I didn’t feel perfectly rested but that was a great improvement!

I continued to follow the doctor’s advices religiously and I have been feeling better and better as time goes by. Although I have not really been satisfied with the consultation processes with my Psychiatrist because I think he has not been therapeutic in terms of our doctor-patient relationship, his professional advices have actually been effective so far. One problem I have with one of the prescriptions though, particularly the bedtime pill, is that it has made me extremely dependent on it. I fear that my drug dependency will become permanent but my doctor said he’ll eventually slowly reduce the prescription if I get in the right health condition.

Moving on with my health condition, I am now very happy, Alhamdulillah! I am slowly getting back my self-esteem and confidence. I can now look straight in the eyes making me enjoy communicating to people. The heavy-head feeling is gone. I still struggle falling asleep but at least I still able to get good enough sleep which provide me just the right amount of energy to accomplish my daily tasks. I think it is safe to say that the best decision I’ve made with regards to my health was getting professional help. It cannot be more true to me that sometimes what we are ashamed of to do (address mental illness) is what will actually make us better. By the way, I have been watching motivational videos which I’ve found greatly beneficial.

In Shaa Allah, I will continue to get better and get back the life I have been yearning for years. I have suffered so much damage and destruction in many parts of my life over the past decade. God-willing, I will have the time and health to fix them.

There are many lessons I’ve learned from my years of battle with insomnia and anxiety. I would have never learned the importance of addressing mental illness as a societal issue if I never went through it. The most important though is to keep up the faith in God and to never give up. When you feel pain; when you are tired; when you feel like giving up; when you feel like quitting; when you look around you and nowhere do you see anything remotely looks like success; when it’s all dark; just keep up the faith and believe that God has put you in that darkness for a reason and that after that darkness, you will come out stronger than ever befor

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iwillphysicallyfiteyou · 5 years

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My Therapist, Dr. Logan Robinson (Prolouge)

Summary: Logan looks over his clients.

Pairing: None

CW: I’m going to be completely honest, if you need any content warnings then this probably isn’t the story for you. This is an entire series about mental health and addiction, so it’s going to have quite a bit of heavy content.

Just an FYI: Roman and Virgil’s forms are different because they are in different programs.

LOGAN

April 8th, 2019

I take a sip from my black coffee as I sit down on my desk. A breeze from the open window next to me causes me to shiver. I carefully set my coffee down and pick up a packet from a stack of papers on my desk.

Name (Last, First, Middle): Fairfax Roman Troy

Age: 20 Date of Birth: August 11th, 1999

Address: 39027 Wall Street

Orlando FL 32812

Work Phone: (407)456-3905 Cell: (407)576-2957

Have you been treated here before? Yes

What problem/s bring you to the Flordia Psychiatric Clinic: My manic depression and addiction are taking over my life.

Look at the pink sheet and write down any symptoms from that sheet that you are currently having problems with.

Irritability, anger, depressed mood, euphoric or elevated mood, mood swings, decreased need for sleep, anxiety, fear of losing control, weight loss, hearing or seeing things others cannot, and pressure to keep talking.

Have you received any inpatient or outpatient psychiatric care, counseling, therapy, or psychiatric medication management? Please describe below.

Date: June 6th, 2018 For what problem?: Mania What type of treatment?: Inpatient

Date: July 19th, 2018 For what problem?: Depression What type of treatment?: Inpatient

Date: October 7th, 2018 For what problem?: Mania What type of treatment?: Therapy

Date: October 11th, 2018 For what problem?: Addiction What type of treatment?: Inpatient

Date: December 12th, 2018 - December 21st, 2018 For what problem?: Addiction What type of treatment?: Outpatient

Date: March 6th, 2019 For what problem?: Anxiety and Depression What type of treatment?: Therapy

Date: April 7th, 2019 For what problem?: Addiction What type of treatment?: Inpatient

What medications have you been treated with?

Lithium, Anticonvulsant, and currently Risperidone.

Substance Abuse History

Substance: Coke Age Started: 16 Last use: April 7th, 2019 Amount: 65 mg

Look at your blue sheet. Write down any and all symptoms you have experienced.

Using in situations that could be dangerous (driving a car). Legal problems. Recurrent social problems. Needing more and more to get the same effect. Withdrawal symptoms.Taking more than you planned. Wanting, or trying unsuccessfully, to cut back or quit. Knowing that it was harming your physical or mental health and taking it anyway. Doing things that violate your own personal code of ethics (lying, stealing).

Weight and Eating Habits

Current Weight: 138 lbs. Highest: 155 lbs. Lowest: 138 lbs.

Are you happy with your current weight: No.

Do you have an intense fear of becoming fat? No.

Have you ever restricted your eating below 1000 calories/day? No.

Do you ever binge or lose control of how much you eat? No.

Do you ever intentionally vomit after eating? No.

Do you ever use laxatives, diuretics, or other drugs to lose weight? No.

Have you had a significant weight gain in the past 6 months? No.

Have you had a significant weight loss in the past 6 months? Yes.

Safety

Do you feel safe in your current environment? Yes.

If no, please state your concerns.

Look at your green sheet. Please write down any symptoms you have.

Dry mouth, nose bleeding, nasal congestion, headache, nausea, vomiting, and dilated pupils.

Looks like Roman is back inpatient. I really need to visit him today, I can probably fit in a visit at 2 pm, maybe at 4 pm if I have a lot of paperwork. I grab another packet.

Date: April 7th, 2019

Name (Last, first, middle): Finegan Patton Seth Age: 31

Address: 29574 Sunset Street

Orlando FL 32803

Work Phone: (321)645-3958 Cell Phone: (321)893-2934

What issue(s) bring(s) you to the Florida Psychiatric Clinic? Anxiety is getting in the way of work, social life, and home life.

What has been stressing you out of late? The thought of not being a good enough dad.

Look at your pink sheet. Please write down any symptoms you’re experiencing.

Loss of energy, appetite change, difficulty concentrating, anxiety, sleep problems, loss of interest in activities, feeling helpless/hopeless, upsetting reoccurring thoughts, and feeling guilty.

Have you been diagnosed with a mental health condition by a medical provider (if so, please list them)? Yes, generalized anxiety and depression.

Have you ever been seen by a psychiatrist or therapist/counselor? Please list and describe.

Date seen, and by whom: Every Wednesday from February 13th, 2019 - April 3rd, 2019. Dr. Logan Robinson For what problem?: Anxiety and depression What treatment?: Therapy

Have you ever been hospitalized for psychiatric care? Please list and describe.

On October 9th, 2018 I was taken inpatient at the Florida Psychiatric Center.

Date seen, and by whom: October 9th, 2019 - October 11th, 2019. Dr. Kelly Johnson and Dr. Logan Robinson. Where, and for what?: Florida Psychiatric Center What treatment?: Inpatient

What psychiatric meds have you taken? Zoloft.

Substance Abuse

Have you ever abused ANY substances? No.

If yes, what was the substance?

Safety

Do currently have thoughts of hurting yourself? Yes/no Please explain.

Have you tried to hurt yourself in the past? Yes/no If so, please explain.

Burning arms and legs.

Have you tried to hurt anyone in the past? Yes/no If so, please explain.

Do you own any weapons? Yes/no

Patton’s back inpatient? This packet is pretty vague, I’m going to have to call the center to find out exactly why he’s inpatient. Or I could just go there and ask him, which seems like the best option.

I look back at the stack of papers before my eyes look onto a specific one.

Doyle is inpatient? Oh, he seems to be outpatient. But why is he on an outpatient program when it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t actually have an anxiety disorder, instead low functioning anti-social personality disorder? Why is he still my patient, I specialize in anxiety, not this.

Date: April 7th, 2019

Name (Last,first, middle): Age: 25

Address: Drake Will Doyle

Work Phone: (407)495-2945 Cell Phone: (407)564-2049

What issue(s) bring(s) you to the Florida Psychiatric Clinic? Problems within home and social life.

What has been stressing you out of late? An inability to effectively communicate with others.

Look at your pink sheet. Please write down any symptoms you’re experiencing. History of violent behavior, problems at home, problems at work, relationship problems, irritability, anger, and poor impulse control.

Have you been diagnosed with a mental health condition by a medical provider (if so, please list them)? Anti-social personality disorder.

Have you ever been seen by a psychiatrist or therapist/counselor? Please list and describe.

Date seen, and by whom: Every other Tuesday from October 11th, 2016 - February 12th, 2019. Dr. Logan Robinson. For what problem?: Anxiety What treatment?: Therapy

Have you ever been hospitalized for psychiatric care? Please list and describe. No.

Date seen, and by whom: Where, and for what?: What treatment?:

What psychiatric meds have you taken? None.

Have you ever abused ANY substances? Yes.

If yes, what was the substance? From ages 12 to 13 abused Zoloft.

Safety

Do currently have thoughts of hurting yourself? Yes/no Please explain.

Have you tried to hurt yourself in the past? Yes/No If so, please explain.

Have you tried to hurt anyone in the past? Yes/No If so, please explain.

Used to beat people up in high school.

Do you own any weapons? Yes/No

I’m not sure if this program will help him, but it’s worth a try I guess. I can definitely go down there to talk to him, but he also needs someone that’s specialized in this area. From what I can tell he wants help, he’s just not getting the right treatment for him.

I put his packet to the side and pick up the last inpatient/outpatient packet.

Interesting, it’s from a patient that I haven’t had yet. And he’s under eighteen, that’ll be new.

Demographics

Name of the person completing this form: Valerie Torres Barsotti

Relationship to the child: Mother

Child’s Full Legal Name: Virgil Zane Barsotti

Is there another name the child prefers being called? Virge

Child’s Date of Birth: 01/20/2004

Age: 15

Gender: Male

Race: Caucasian

Religion: None

Is the child adopted? Yes/No

If yes, are they aware? Yes/No

Who Lives in the Same Household of the Child?

Name Gender Age Relationship to the Child

Valerie Torres Barsotti Female 37 Mother

William West Barsotti Male 39 Father

Joan Zach Barsotti Nonbinary 17 Brother

What are the main concerns that you have about your child?

He’s extremely anxious and moody. He’s very dramatic and is too scared to talk to people. We have to bribe him to go outside of his room.

How long have you had these concerns?

Two years now.

What are your goals for treatment of your child?

To get him to be less anxious and scared, and to live life to his full potential.

Look at the purple sheet provided. Please write down any symptoms that apply to your child.

Sad or depressed mood, withdrawn from family or friends, loss of interest in activities or hobbies, feelings of guilt or worthlessness, feeling hopeless about the future, sleep disturbance, change in appetite, low energy or fatigue, trouble focusing or concentrating, irritability, fear of looking stupid or being embarrassed, habits the child feels they must do even if he/she knows it does not make sense, and thoughts, feelings or pictures that come into the child’s mind even if he does not want them to, easily loses temper, argues with authority figures, and easily annoyed.

Traumatic Experiences: Has your child had to go through anything traumatic? Yes/No

Medication

Please list any medications your child is currently taking: None.

Please list any medications your child is has taken in the past: None.

Social History

Name of Child’s Current School: Lincoln High School

Current Grade: Sophomore (10th)

Did your child repeat any grades?: No

Is the child in any special ed classes?: No

Has the child ever been suspended or expelled? Yes

Does the child get bullied by peers? Yes

Has the child been arrested? Yes

What hand does the child prefer to use? Left Right No Preference

Interesting, Virgil will definitely be my first priority. Since I don’t have any sessions scheduled for today I can always see if I can miss the ten o’clock meeting so I can meet with him right away. Based off of the sticky note on the packet he seems to be technically outpatient, but it is during the school day so he’s going to be spending hours there every single day until they decide he’s stable enough to decrease his time there until he eventually leaves altogether.

Well, then it’s final, I’m going to call and cancel a meeting.

#my therapist dr logan robinson #iwillphysicallyfiteyou #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction

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just-an-anxious-mess · 6 years

Text

Get Rid Of Me (Part 1 of 2)

Second Part

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of suicidal thoughts, blood, suicide attempts.

Also I’m actually sorry for this one, it was quite draining for me to write.

Anxiety stared out of the window, entranced by the moonlight that streamed into his room and lit everything up almost as brightly as the sun did. He loved looking at the moon. For some reason he always felt much calmer when looking at it.

He managed to tear his eyes away from the window and climbed into bed, the moon unable to keep the thoughts at bay for long. Today had been particularly terrible. He'd had a mild panic attack which caused Thomas to have one too when he was about to go on stage for an audition.

Roman had been furious and just about managed to get Thomas through the audition. Afterwards he'd proper laid into Anxiety with harsh words to tell him how he always made things worse.

Anxiety closed his eyes with a sigh, he could handle what Roman said because it was no worse than how he described himself. The one thing that had stung slightly was the comment Logan had then made about him being a disorder rather than an actual trait so it was expected of him to mess everything up for the rest of them.

Apparently he was never meant to exist and should have been erased long ago. Anxiety wasn't a trait everyone had and people even took medication to get rid of it.

Suddenly Anxiety had a thought. What if Thomas were to take it? How would it affect him? Did he really care anymore? He was tired of the comments and horrible feelings he was forced to carry. Maybe if Thomas took the medication it would kill him and he'd finally be able to relax.

Anxiety ran a hand down his face, ignoring the fact he smudged his eye makeup and tried to think of the cons behind Thomas taking the medication. He couldn't think of any.

With this he decided to try and get at least an hours sleep before he pushed the idea into Thomas's mind.

The next morning Anxiety woke up in a cold sweat, his sleep having been plagued by the usual nightmares.

He stood up on shaky legs and tried to think of how he could broach the idea of Thomas taking medication. Eventually he decided to just mention the idea to him.

He waited until Thomas was alone and popped up next to him.

"hey Thomas." he greeted and felt more confident about his question when Thomas flinched and then groaned quietly at realising who had turned up.

"what is it Anxiety?" Thomas asked warily.

"I was thinking that I've been making you feel particularly bad recently and I was going to suggest you take anxiety medication to try and prevent me from being tempted to mess with you as much." Anxiety managed to keep his voice level throughout his sentence.

Thomas frowned at this, unsure why Anxiety would suddenly suggest he take meds but the idea sure was tempting. "I'll consider it and if I think that it could be a good idea I'll try it"

Anxiety nodded and sank back into the mind space, disappearing into his room immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thomas scrolled through Twitter and Tumblr, occasionally liking and replying to his fans when he stumbled across a post someone had shared.

It was a long paragraph of someone describing how much their anxiety used to rule their life until they were properly diagnosed and medicated and now they felt much better and could do everything with minimum stress.

It was definitely starting to sound appealing and he found himself almost dialling the number for a clinic but he hesitated as a thought struck him.

How would the medicine effect Anxiety? Would it just make him more relaxed or tired? Or maybe it would hurt him or even kill him? Thomas shuddered and put his phone down. He couldn't take the risk that it would seriously harm Anxiety.

Thomas wondered if he should consult Logan about the situation but before he could Roman popped up with a brand new idea for a video.

"Hello Thomas, I've just thought of a marvellous idea for your next video." he said with a flourish and a large proud grin.

"Cool. I was actually about to call Logan for some advice about something but you might also be able to help me." Thomas said, shifting his weight awkwardly as he tried to think of the right words to bring up.

"Of course I can help you, I am the Prince. That's what I'm here for." Roman said brushing imaginary dirt off of his clothes.

Thomas took a deep breath before asking "do you think I should take medication for my anxiety?"

Roman frowned and thought for a while, trying to think of why Thomas would hesitate.

"why of course. That's got to be one of the best ideas you've had, it will make everything a whole lot easier for us to work in a productive positive way." He said, gesturing his arms wildly.

"you don't think it'll harm Anxiety in any way?" Thomas asked, slightly less hesitant.

Roman paused momentarily, he hadn't thought of that. "I don't think it will, it's a great idea but how did you come up with it?" he asked, slightly annoyed that Thomas hadn't needed him for thinking up the idea.

"well actually, Anxiety told me he thought it'd make him less tempted to mess everything up." Thomas explained.

Roman felt a flash of anger and jealousy. He was the one who was supposed to help Thomas have ideas, not Anxiety. "well for once I agree with him and if he suggested it then there's no way it'd harm him, he'd never do anything that would put his life in danger." Roman said, his anger showing slightly in the way he grit his teeth.

Thomas considered this and shrugged, accepting Romans logic of the situation." OK, if your sure I guess I'll call the clinic and book an appointment or something."

Roman beamed and synced out with a cheerful goodbye. As he popped back into the mind space he let his smile drop and he stomped furiously towards his room. How did he not think of that before Anxiety of all people? He slammed his bedroom door and tried to calm his breathing. At least it would be better soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anxiety stayed in his room for the rest of the day unsure if Thomas would actually listen to his idea until he heard him arranging an appointment.

He felt his lip twitch into a shadow of a smile but only for half a second before his face went back to normal. He'd accomplished the first step, all he had to do now was wait and then down play the effects of the tablets until it was too late.

He knew the others wouldn't let him kill himself but that was merely because they didn't want to feel guilty or like they failed to 'save' someone. It definitely wasn't because they cared that was for sure.

Before he knew it the day of the appointment arrived and Anxiety decided if today was his last day then he'd try and see just how much he could affect Thomas and how pissed off he could make the others.

Thomas was getting ready to go when he suddenly had a thought. "what if they don't believe me?" he muttered, causing him to pause midway through putting his jacket on. "what if they say I don't need the medication and I'm just a bit paranoid. Or worse what happens if they think I'm crazy and they put me in a psychiatric ward?" Thomas started to panic until Roman appeared.

"Thomas, relax. Everything is going to be fine." he said comfortingly and breathed a sigh of relief as it worked, until Anxiety popped up.

"is it though? From an outsiders perspective you talk to yourself and if that doesn't scream split personality disorder then I don't know what does." Anxiety tried to speak in a normal voice but he was also terrified of the doctor refusing to medicate Thomas or finding out that Thomas could see aspects of his personality.

Roman was getting annoyed by Anxietys constant interruptions with negative comments. "you're being ridiculous Anxiety. Just stop making him miserable for once in his life." he snapped, sending a glare full of hatred at the darker trait.

Anxiety inhaled sharply but pretended to ignore Romans comment. "Thomas if you don't hurry up you're going to be late and you'll never get the medication. You'll turn up too late and you won't be able to see the doctor and then you'll be too embarrassed at wasting the doctors time that you'll never want to phone them up again." Anxiety got lost in a tangent of worst case scenario, his voice getting higher and his words more rushed.

It wasn't until Roman shouted at him to shut up that Anxiety realised what he'd been doing and how close he'd been to saying they'd never be rid of him without the medication.

Thomas eventually left and Anxiety and Roman were forced to sync down.

"can't you just leave him alone for one day?" Roman asked and if Anxiety didn't know him better he would have said he was pleading with him.

Anxiety shook his head, not sure he'd be able to keep his voice steady. He'd actually tried to be like the others but it didn't work and it always ended up effecting Thomas negatively so he'd given up.

Romans anger was steadily building and as he took in Anxietys bored expression he couldn't help but make an angry comment. "just leave Thomas alone, go mope in your bedroom and stop popping up to make his life miserable. At least when he takes the medication he'll probably feel much better and it'll probably chill you out." with this last comment he spun on his heel and stalked towards his room, almost missing the soft "OK fine, you'll never see me again."

Roman struggled not to turn around and kept walking, Anxiety was only talk. Right?

Anxietys face fell as soon as Roman had turned around and he slowly began making his way to his room, anticipating when Thomas would take the medication.

He locked his door, making sure to put his wardrobe and chest of drawers in front of it in case Roman tried to kick it down like last time when he'd accidentally given Thomas a panic attack.

He shuddered at that memory. He'd barely been a trait for a week and Roman was so angry he'd actually hit him. He'd apologised a couple days later when Anxiety explained he hadn't meant to give Thomas a panic attack but he knew then that the others merely tolerated him and they'd prefer him to be gone.

Anxiety walked slowly towards his mirror and was shocked to see that he'd forgotten to clean up his eyeshadow which he'd smudged down his face. How did neither Thomas or Roman say anything? Because they don't care about him, that's why.

He turned from the mirror and climbed into his wardrobe that was leaning against the door. That way if anyone did break down the door it would tip the wardrobe and he'd be safe inside it away from their venomous words. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas walked back into his apartment, tablets in hand. It had been way easier than he'd thought and the doctor hadn't needed convincing of his anxiety like he thought he would.

He sat down on the sofa, pills in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He'd read through the side effects but there was no clue to how they'd affect Anxiety. He hesitated and called for Roman.

"I told you everything would turn out fine." he exclaimed as he noticed the pills. "what are you waiting for? Take them."

Thomas nodded but still he hesitated. "do you think I should call for Anxiety and make sure he's alright?" Thomas asked, his worry back but worse with the tablets actually in his hand.

"He'll be fine just take them and stop hesitating. It was his idea in the first place so there's no danger." Romans voice was eager and Thomas agreed that if Anxiety had suggested he take them then there was no way they'd cause him harm.

He shoved the pills in his mouth and gulped down water, letting out a sigh as he sat down to wait for them to kick in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About half an hour later, maybe an hour, Thomas felt full of energy and he had a big smile on his face. "I feel like I can film and edit a video all day today." he said with a grin and Roman beamed as they began brainstorming.

Anxiety sat in his wardrobe and felt the first hint of pain. It was in his lungs and each breath felt like he was drowning. Eventually that stopped but the ache was there and when he coughed his hands were splattered with blood.

He swallowed and ignored the ache in his lungs and throat, he needed to pretend nothing was wrong. He wiped the blood onto his hoodie, blood didn't show up as much on black.

Suddenly he felt incredibly dizzy and as he slumped sideways he wondered how long it'd take for him to die. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan felt a weird shift happen within the mind and he put down his pen to see what Thomas was up to.

"hey Logan, we're brainstorming ideas for a video, want to help?" came the cheery voice of Thomas and Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I was actually coming to see if anything different had happened as there was an abnormal shift in your mind." Logan was straight to the point and started to scan the surrounding area.

"actually..." Thomas began but Roman interrupted.

"can you go please, we were in the middle of coming up with ideas and I need complete concentration." his voice was snobbish and arrogant which made Logan bristle slightly before taking a couple deep breaths and muttering "nevermind"

Logan went back to the mind space and started to theorise about what had changed.

"hey Logan, why are you looking so Grumpy? Anyone would think you're... Short tempered." Pattons cheery voice interrupted Logans thoughts and he groaned at the cringey Disney pun.

"Something has changed in Thomas's mind and I'm trying to deduce what." Logan didn't even open his eyes as he explained this in a slow voice as if Patton was a child.

"deduce? You mean like Sherlock Holmes? Ooo do we get to dress up again?" Patton exclaimed happily, clapping his hands.

Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "no Patton, I'm just trying to figure out what's changed." his voice was exasperated but that didn't deter Patton.

"can I help?" he asked enthusiastically.

Logan bit back an immediate negative response and decided it would keep Patton busy and he might be able to figure out what had changed then.

"fine." he muttered and covered his ears as Patton squealed happily.

Patton immediately popped up to talk to Thomas about the sort of game he and Logan were playing.

"hey kiddo, me and Logan are playing another detective game." he said cheerfully.

Thomas glanced up from where he was writing and gave Patton a grin. "you mean you asked him if you could help him figure out what's 'changed?' he's probably imagining things, I feel happy and perfectly fine so it's not a bad change whatever it is." Thomas's voice was loud and full of confidence that it made Pattons heart swell with pride.

At least until he spotted the box sitting on the table.

"Hey Thomas, whats in that box?" he asked innocently.

Thomas and Roman rolled their eyes and Thomas replied "they're painkillers for a headache I had earlier but it's completely gone now."

Thomas didn't even feel bad about the almost lie he told. It was pretty much true though, Anxiety caused him to have headaches sometimes and the medication made them stop because they prevented anxiety. Technically it was still the truth.

Patton nodded with a forced smile and quickly went to find Logan.

Logan opened his eyes at the knock on his door and rolled his eyes as Patton burst in without waiting to be told.

"I know what's changed!" he panted.

"what is it Patton?" Logan asked, expecting either a pun or a silly comment.

"Thomas is taking some strange medication. He told me it was painkillers for his headaches but that's not what it looked like." Patton was worried and Logan decided it was worth checking out.

"OK fine I'll go see what they are."he said and quietly popped up back in the living room.

Patton popped up in the kitchen and called for Thomas and Roman." let's try and get you to cook yourself something. "he said, immediately getting Romans interest as that was a goal he and Thomas had decided needed to be tackled soon.

While Patton distracted Thomas and Roman, Logan snuck towards the sofa and read the box. It meant very little so he glanced at the leaflet and felt his face go extremely pale.

He sunk back into the mind space and waited for Patton to come back.

Eventually Patton came back and Logan blurted out "he's taking anxiety medication."

Patton frowned in confusion. "what is that? What is it supposed to do?"

"it's supposed to help someone block out their anxiety and if I'm correct then Anxiety will be feeling the full effects of it." Logan was slightly worried now and Patton was getting upset.

"what do we do?" he asked, voice edged with panic.

"we need to check on Anxiety." Logan responded immediately and Patton was already up the hallway before he finished speaking.

"Anxiety? Are you alright in there?" Logan asked, dread creeping through him as he heard no hint of a response.

Patton knocked on the door and then tried to walk in but the door was locked.

"maybe we should get Roman to kick it down?" Patton asked frantically.

Logan frowned and made a quick decision. "we're going to confront Thomas about this."

And that's how they found themselves in the living room arguing over whether Thomas should have taken the medication or not.

"Anxiety suggested it himself." Thomas eventually blurted out and suddenly Patton burst into tears. The others may not have noticed how much the dark trait hated himself but Patton had always noticed. He'd even held him through a panic attack one night when he forgot to lock his door.

The words that spewed out of his mouth about himself and how everyone would be better off without him had made Patton pay special attention and care to him and if Anxiety had asked Thomas to take the pills then it meant he wanted to be hurt or killed and that thought destroyed Patton.

Roman, Thomas and Logan froze at the sight of Patton in such distress. It wasn't until he gasped out "he wants to die." that Roman suddenly put two and two together.

"this is all my fault." he muttered, staring blankly into space as he remembered how he'd convinced Thomas to take them and how he'd told Anxiety to leave Thomas alone and Anxiety had said he'd never see him again.

Suddenly he had an idea "we need to go check in Anxiety!"

Patton was crying too hard to talk but Logan said "we tried his door and it's locked."

Roman nodded in understanding and grabbed Thomas's arm. "we're going into your mind and we're going to try and see if Anxiety is alright."

Thomas shrugged and replied "cool, I guess."

The four of them suddenly appeared outside Anxietys door and Roman kicked it until it came off its hinges but he found a wardrobe and chest of drawers in the way. "he really doesn't want to be disturbed." he muttered and managed to push the wardrobe out of the way so they could get inside.

Once inside they looked around the room and couldn't find any hint of Anxiety.

"where is he?" Patton asked fearfully, clinging to Logans arm as he looked around.

Logan shrugged and glanced at Thomas who looked more interested in Anxietys room than the fact Anxiety was missing and could potentially be seriously injured.

Roman was scanning the room and his eyes locked onto a strange smear on the wardrobe. He crept closer and realised it was a trail of some kind of substance leading into the wardrobe.

"I think I found him." he whispered and the others crowded round as he opened the doors.

Patton immediately gagged and hid his face in Logans back who had paled considerably.

Roman collapsed onto his knees, guilt and horror running through his mind.

The only one who seemed unaffected was Thomas. In fact he glanced in the wardrobe, muttered "gross" and went back to looking at Anxietys stuff.

Anxiety lay slumped against the side of the wardrobe, blood trailing from his mouth to the pool he was sitting in. There was so much and it was slightly congealed so the doors of the wardrobe had been stuck slightly.

Roman eventually managed to convince himself to be brave and he picked up the unconscious trait, becoming aware of how worryingly light he was.

"put him on the bed." instructed Logan, prising Pattons hands off of his clothes.

Roman did as he was told and Logan quick began checking Anxiety over.

"his pulse is faint but it's still there." he muttered as he worked on clearing the blood from Anxietys airways.

Patton had now clung onto Roman for comfort and Thomas had even started to be more attentive to what was going on.

"why is Thomas not worried?" Roman asked, his voice full of annoyance.

"if I'm correct, and I usually am, Anxiety represents more than just anxiety. He also has control of Thomas's fear and shame. This helps prevent him from being reckless and careless in situations that could be hazardous to Thomas's health. In simple terms, Thomas isn't worried because that's what Anxiety makes him do and he's not able to do that right now." Logans voice remained neutral but the slight shake of his hands as he pushed his glasses further up his nose betrayed his nerves.

Roman nodded and looked down at Anxiety, guilt flooding him as he thought back to how many times he'd made a snide comment and how that must have affected him more than he knew.

"he's so good at hiding it." Roman said but Patton shook his head.

"no he's not, you've never really looked at him properly. It's obvious just how much he hates himself and I've held him through an anxiety attack before and the only words he could say were self depreciating. He's been suffering for so long." Patton dissolved into tears again.

Roman and Logan tensed up as they thought over all the conversations they'd had with Anxiety and started to notice the tone of voice he used that they'd ignored at the time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anxiety could hear voices somewhere around him. He couldn't make out who they belonged to because it sounded echoey and distant but he guessed it was probably the other traits.

He strained his ears and overheard someone that might have been Patton saying something about someone suffering for so long.

Anxiety started to remember what had happened and he realised he'd been affected by the medication worse than he thought he would be but he guessed that was probably because of how heightened he was for Thomas.

He couldn't move, he was in a state of paralysis but he didn't care. The fact they'd found him meant they'd stop Thomas taking the medication and he'd have to take matters into his own hands. There was no way he could face them after this.

With this thought he drifted back into complete unconsciousness.

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#just an anxious mess's fics #virgil sanders #virgil angst #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #tw suicide #tw mentions of blood #tw mentions of suicide #tw suicide attempt #tw medication

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