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schizopositivity · 1 year

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Why it's hard for schizophrenic people to get treatment and diagnosis for physical health problems:

• Having "schizophrenic" in our charts makes a lot of medical professionals automatically not believe us. Especially if it is a problem that they can't instantly see themselves. They may think we are either delusional or having some kind of tactile hallucinations. They could see it more as a "psychiatric problem" rather than the physical medical problem that it is.

• If you have flat or blunted affect, they may not believe you, especially if you are describing pain. They have the expectations that you would be screaming, crying, grimacing, etc. When you are straight faced and monotone and say "I am in extreme pain right now" they will likely not believe you. And this paired with medical professionals views of chronic pain just makes them not believe you even more.

• Alexithymia makes describing your symptoms very hard, and even harder to describe how the symptoms affect you. The medical professional goes off of what you tell them, if you are vague or don't have the words, they will not understand you or not believe what you are describing. Either way that will hinder your road to treatment and diagnosis.

• Having memory problems, or trouble keeping track of things can also hinder your care. If you can't remember, or even remember to write down how often a symptom occurs, how long it lasts, how it felt in the moment, and how it impacted your life at the time, they may once again not believe you. Diagnosis often requires some sort of timeline or prevalence of symptoms, and not keeping track of that could keep you from diagnosis.

• They may avoid prescribing pain killers (even if you need it) because the fact that schizophrenic people are more likely to abuse drugs than the general population. And while that fact is true, it doesn't mean that someone in extreme pain does not deserve the right to pain killers just as much as anyone else who needs them.

• Being part of a disenfranchised group while also being schizophrenic can have compounding affects on your physical health treatment. Being low-income, being a person of color, being assigned female at birth, being transgender, being intersex, any other disenfranchised group or any combination of these will impact how you are treated by the healthcare system.

• Fear of medical professionals, or fear of Dr.s offices can impact the quality of your visit. You may feel too frightened to tell them how you really feel, you may just completely avoid going into the building at all. This can happen to anyone but is especially common for schizophrenic people due to our paranoia, inability to advocate for ourselves, lack of self esteem, historical medical abuse or personal experiences with medical abuse. Plus we can have doubts about the quality of our care because of any of the other reasons listed above.

And all this occurs while we as schizophrenic people, are at higher risks of several physical health problems (you can read about it here):

#i will make a part 2 on how i personally deal with these issues #this itself is just to raise awareness #schizophrenia #tw medical abuse #schizophrenia stigma #sanism #flat affect #blunted affect #memory problems #memory issues #alexithymia #medical abuse #medical neglect #tw healthcare #tw drs #tw painkillers #tw medication #tw drug abuse

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gloomysoup · 6 months

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when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating)

hello hello i bring you some actual writing for once how exciting !! this is based off this post by @acowardinmordor once i saw it my brain just wouldn't stop until i fleshed it out into something relatively coherent so here it is !! if this does well i'll probably put it up on ao3 later

ao3 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

cw: drugs, illusions to drug abuse and overdose, minor character death, illusions to major character death (probably temporary), panic attack, medical crisis

When Eddie was eight years old, he found his mother on the bathroom floor, a half-empty bottle of pills in her hand. She wouldn't wake up. Eddie hadn't known what to do, so he wandered across the way to his favorite neighbor’s house. Mrs. Westbrooke was an older widow who'd lived in the same house for decades. Once Eddie had told her his mom wasn't waking up, she called for an ambulance. The paramedics came and took his mom to the hospital. Eddie stayed with Mrs. Westbrooke until Wayne came to pick him up.

That was the first time he spent more than a night or two at Wayne’s. It was about a week and a half before he was taken back home. The same thing happened a year and a half later. His mom passed out on the kitchen floor that time, and it was a baggie of colorful pills instead. Something she'd gotten from a friend of his dad. Something his dad had gotten her hooked on several months prior, when the doctor stopped writing her prescriptions. He was with Wayne for three days before his dad came to get him. Two weeks later, he was on Wayne’s doorstep with a single bag of everything he owned, his dad behind bars. He'd been with Wayne ever since.

His uncle had made a promise to him that first night, when Eddie finally realized this was it. He was with Wayne for good. There was no going back. He'd promised Eddie none of that would ever happen again. He didn't have to worry about Wayne disappearing in the flashing red and blue lights. He wouldn't find him half-dead on the floor of their trailer. He was safe. Eddie believed him. For years, Eddie believed Wayne was right. He'd never once let Eddie down before. He was always there. He took him in when he had nowhere else to go.

Too bad Wayne couldn't have predicted this.

New York City. June 1994. A sold out show at Madison Square Garden. Eddie on stage with his best friends. His boyfriend watching from the wings. How it was always supposed to go.

The air was fizzing with energy. The crowd was screaming so loud. Eddie’s heart was pounding, blood rushing with adrenaline. He kissed Steve hard in the green room, a promise between them of more to come. Steve wished him luck, and it was time to take the stage. They'd finally made it. All their hard work was paying off.

About halfway through the set, Steve disappeared. Eddie wasn't worried. He didn't know he should've been. When they came off stage, the crowd was still screaming, and the band was riding the high of a great show. It felt amazing. It was more than they ever dreamed, growing up the way they did in a town like Hawkins. Eddie was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Anyone seen Steve?” he asked, handing off his guitar and starting to pull off his mic pack.

“Not for a while,” one of the techs responded. “Said something about the bathroom, I think, but he never came back.”

Eddie frowned, a little confused. It wasn't like Steve not to be there when he came off stage.

“He's probably just waiting in the green room, Ed,” Gareth said, knocking his shoulder against Eddie’s as he passed. “I'm sure there's nothing to worry about.”

Eddie didn't hang around with the others. He headed straight for the green room, hoping Gareth was right. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The same feeling he got all those years ago, right before he opened the front door to find his mom on the kitchen floor. It ate away at his insides, churning deep and uncomfortably. His heart was racing, and it was no longer due to the high energy of the show. Panic was coursing through his veins.

His hand hesitated on the door to the green room. He felt eight years old again, knocking on Mrs. Westbrooke’s door when he couldn't wake his mom up to make dinner. His hands trembled as he grabbed the knob and twisted, easing it open. The room was empty. Eddie’s heart plummeted. Steve wasn't there. Steve was missing, and Eddie had this horrible feeling spreading through his entire body. He still wasn't sure why the feeling was there; he had never once had a reason to believe Steve was doing anything harder than weed. It was still there, though, and Eddie was panicking. He needed to find Steve. He had to make sure Steve was okay.

He headed for the bathroom next. The techs had said he went to the bathroom. Maybe something happened. Maybe he hit his head and couldn't remember where he was. The feeling said otherwise, but Eddie refused to believe it. He was overreacting. Steve was fine.

He was lying to himself.

The bathroom door was unlocked. He pushed it open, knocking. “Steve? Are you in here?” he called. He could barely hear through the rush of blood in his ears. He stepped inside, and he was sure his heart stopped beating altogether.

Just like that, he was ten years old. His mother was dead on the kitchen floor. Mrs. Westbrooke held him on her front porch as his mother was taken away in a blur of red and blue. He was ten years old, watching Wayne’s old pickup coming up the drive. Through the pounding in his ears, he could faintly hear the gravel crunching under the tires of the red truck. An odd comfort. A reminder of safety. What he wouldn't give to have that again right now.

“She wouldn't wake up, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said softly, his voice trembling as a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

Wayne bent down, his old knees creaking, and pulled Eddie into a tight hug. “I'm sorry, Ed.” He squeezed tighter, letting Eddie bury his face in his worn flannel. “You're gonna come stay with me for a couple days, ‘til everythin' gets settled.”

“I don't got any clothes, Wayne.”

“Don't you worry ‘bout that right now. We’ll figure somethin’ out. I promise it’ll be alright.”

Steve was lying on the bathroom floor. Eddie couldn't breathe. There was a bag of colorful pills, so similar to the ones his mom had taken, sitting on the sink counter. Next to it was a line of white powder. Eddie’s vision blurred with tears as he dropped next to Steve, shaking his shoulder.

“Steve? Steve, baby, wake up. Please wake up.” Eddie was gasping for breath through his sobs as he tried to shake Steve awake. It wasn't working. He wasn't waking up.

“Mama? Mama, come on. You gotta get up.” Eddie crouched down next to her, shaking her shoulder. “Mama, please. You can't sleep on the floor.”

“Please, baby,” Eddie begged, pulling Steve into his arms on the bathroom floor. “Please. I can't lose you too, Steve. You gotta wake up. Please wake up.”

“Eddie? Are you okay?” The bathroom door opened. Jeff walked in, stopping dead in the doorway. It only took a few seconds for him to gain his bearings and jump into action. He crossed quickly, bending down next to them. “Shit. What happened?”

“I- he- he won't wake up, Jeff,” Eddie sobbed, still holding Steve tightly.

“Okay. Okay, let's not panic yet.”

The cracks in Jeff’s voice were not comforting. Eddie was already panicking. He'd been panicking since the feeling started to solidify, since he didn't find Steve in the green room. Eddie was well past not panicking. Eddie was teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack.

Jeff glanced around, took notice of the drugs on the counter, the way Steve’s chest wasn't rising or falling. He wasn't breathing at all. Jeff stood up quickly. “I'll go get help. I’ll be right back, Eddie. It's gonna be okay.”

Jeff ran from the bathroom. Eddie could barely hear the slap on his shoes on the linoleum in the hall over the sound of his own sobbing, the blood still rushing in his ears despite it feeling like his heart had stopped beating. He held Steve against his chest, burying his face in his hair. He silently begged the universe not to take Steve away from him. He wouldn't be able to handle losing anyone else. He needed Steve.

Eddie wasn't sure how much time passed before Jeff came back, paramedics in tow. All he knew was that Steve wasn't waking up. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he begged and cried, Steve wasn't waking up. His skin was pale and starting to grow cold. There's remnants of white powder on his nose. The paramedics try to move him from Eddie’s arms, but Eddie can't let go. He can't lose Steve.

“Eddie, you have to let go,” Jeff said gently, trying to tug Eddie’s arms off Steve.

Eddie shook his head. “I- I can't- can't, Jeff,” he forced out between sobs.

“The paramedics are gonna help him, Ed, but they can't do that unless you let go.”

“The paramedics are gonna try to help your mama, honey,” Mrs. Westbrooke promised eight-year-old Eddie as they watched from her porch. “Everything'll be alright, don't you worry.”

He missed Mrs. Westbrooke. He wished she were here to hold him, tell him he would be okay. He wanted to sit on her porch in the creaky rocking chairs, eating fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. He wanted safety and familiarity. It'd been a hard day for Eddie when the old woman died. He'd give anything to be back there with her, instead of here in this living nightmare.

Eddie reluctantly released Steve. The paramedics moved him to lie flat on the floor. Jeff’s arms wrapped around Eddie as he continued to sob. Eddie’s hands grasped at Jeff’s shirt. It was clean and dry. He must've changed after the show. Before he found them. The paramedics took Steve away, but Eddie couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. His whole body shook. He couldn't stop sobbing. Over and over, all he could think was that he felt like a little kid again, back when everything was falling apart. Steve was going to die, just like his mom did.

It was all Eddie’s fault.

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max13l · 2 months

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So, a Maxiel AU brainrot thing inspired by these specific versions of them from this and this, where Daniel is a rock singer who used to be very successful, but now he's 34 and his career has been dwindling. He's spiraling and can't write anything good anymore making his label desperate and having his long-time manager quit on him. His label decides to give him one more chance if he manages to put out an album by a specific deadline, and they also hire Max as Daniel's new manager who is tasked with getting him put together promising him a large amount of money in return. Oh, and Max needs the money badly because he is a struggling single dad.

Max is told Daniel has been struggling with drug use and that he sleeps around a lot and barely ever takes his job seriously anymore, so when Max meets him for the first time the last thing he expects is to instantly be crushing on him. I mean, Daniel is hot. His curls are messy and he looks like he hasn't shaved in months, but he's hot.

Daniel would realize Max is into him from the beginning because he's super bad at not being totally obvious about it. And, of course, he would be a bitch about it and try to use it to his advantage, being a massive tease and trying to get Max in trouble. Max tries his hardest to remain professional but his dick often betrays him, which Daniel loves to point out every single time. It never actually goes anywhere, but Max does take more cold showers than ever before.

For a while, Daniel would pretend he's only fucking with Max to get what he wants, but in reality, he's actually hardcore falling for him without even realizing it. And, suddenly he... starts having inspiration to write songs again?

They would get closer with time and banter a lot, with Max finding out Daniel likes country music and joking around that he should've just been a country singer, maybe he'd be less of a mess then.

Daniel also gets to meet Max's daughter, with Max being a single dad sometimes he doesn't have a choice but to ask to bring her along with him when he runs out of people to leave her with, much to his dismay as he would much rather do anything else, his daughter tending to not like new people much (and Daniel having maybe mentioned he doesn't like kids before). When she meets Daniel though, she ends up warming up to him much quicker than Max expects because she thinks he's funny. Daniel subconsciously fools around more and says ridiculous (kid-appropriate, mostly) stuff just to make her laugh. And getting to see Max being a dad is what makes Daniel realize he might really, really like him.

One time, something urgent comes up for Max and no one is available to look after his daughter, so he ends up having to leave her alone with Daniel. Daniel is pretty much scared shitless because he doesn't want to fuck up, but he has no clue what he's doing. Max reassures him it will be okay (as always Max makes Daniel braver) and this experience ends up being what ultimately shows Daniel just how much he actually wants to be with Max, and in a sense become a dad even though he's terrified. It also makes him want to get his shit together to show Max he could be a good dad too.

The first time Daniel looks after Max's daughter goes well enough somehow, so when something comes up again Daniel offers to help again. While they play, she falls and gets a little scratch on one of her knees and even though it's not actually a big deal and she gets over it quickly, Daniel totally freaks out. He calls Max the moment he sees a little blood, shaking and thinking he fucked everything up. Max thinks something serious happened so he rushes back only to find his daughter, with a barely noticeable knee scrape and a look of confusion on her face ("I just fell, why is he crying?"), trying to comfort a shaken up Daniel. Max puts her to bed and tells her everything is alright, before going to take care of Daniel. He ends up crying in Max's arms, telling him about his fears that he can't do anything right anymore and he only makes anything he touches worse, thinking he messed up real bad once again. Max soothes him by telling him how wonderful he is and that being scared isn't a bad thing, and that even trying to make the effort to change is already a show of Daniel's actual character. Max also tries to cheer him up by joking, "I asked you to take care of her but maybe I was wrong and she should be the one taking care of you." To which Daniel promises he will do better next time and Max reassures that he already did more than well enough.

When the next time actually comes around, Max finds Daniel asleep with his daughter in his arms and a bunch of papers filled with enough lyrics to fill an album next to them. His heart swells and he kisses both their foreheads before putting them all to bed. He also whispers to Daniel that he did so good and that he loves him.

#i'm not a writer by any means but i keep having brainrots so why not post them ig hope this is enjoyable #tw drug abuse #its only mentioned once but just in case #maxiel #my writing

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doitforstamets · 1 year

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Hob’s done it all

+Bonus

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arabriddler · 6 months

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Part 2 to this

Tw : drug abuse and bad mental health practices. ( aka Arkham )

Arkham was devastating for Edward. They were understaffed, unequipped, and not fit to host anyone in a way that helps them. After his stint at the court, The psychiatrist thought they could just give him a cocktail of drugs and just let him be even though a simple diagnosis would say he just needs some anxiety meds and therapy. His mental state worsened. Unaware of the passage of time, mind too muddled to think, he was just frustrated, and often kept muttering “ I’m normal “ over and over to himself as a way to calm down. Bring back some civility. Maybe if he chants it enough they’d let him out. except they didn’t, and one day he just… stopped. Mind hitting a brick wall, realization so sudden so stark it felt like a slap. he wasn’t normal, he never was, and he never will be. So, why bother?

He picked himself up, faked taking all the drugs they pumped into him, and planed a break-out. Reborn a-new as The Riddler. Loud and flamboyant this time, and never, ever, normal.

(Part 2.5)

#The riddler #edward nygma #tw drug abuse #Bee’s art #nahlaverse #I do have more for this storyline dndjdkdkdk like lots of thoughts about it

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angellic-critique · 6 months

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I remember when I had hipe for Hazbin hoping that angel dust would be properly handled and written with care towards drug addiction/abuse and general themes about overdosing within the pimp/street community but the more I realize they really so not give any fucks about why the Demons died or why they even want to be redeemed. I'm calling it now that angel dust is only going to he a gay stereotype and severely mishandled due to his depiction in the pilot mainly hinging on his crude labels instead of, yknow the glimmer of hope about drag kings going through abuse in industry. :/

#anti vivziepop #fucked up #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #angel dust critical #abuse mention #drug abuse #tw drug abuse #tw abuse #homophobia

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yikesharringrove · 1 year

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He doesn’t know why, but he’s laying down.

It’s the first thing he realizes. A stupid thing to notice, but just one minute ago, he was standing behind the counter at Family Video, and now he’s laying down.

His eyes are heavy, and it feels like it takes a huge amount of effort just to open them.

He’s in a fucking hospital.

He knows from the stupid white color of the stupid drop ceiling tiles. From the stupid annoying beeping of the stupid heart monitor. From the stupid scratchy gown he’s wearing instead of his sweater.

He heard a muttered curse next to him, and slowly lolled his head over to look.

Hopper was sitting next to his bed, his hat balanced on his knee, looking grumpily at the crossword printed on the back of The Hawkins Post. Steve wanted to laugh at the image, the chief of police swearing as he scribbled out something.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Nobody knows what the fuck that is.”

“Blame Nancy,” Steve croaked. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes again. “She convinced them to add that. Said sales would go up.”

There was a rustling of paper.

“Smart girl,” Hopper said. He paused for a moment, and Steve felt like he needed someone to come and crowbar his eyes open or they would stay closed forever.

“You collapsed. Scared the shit out of your girlfriend, and everyone else at the video store.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled.

So that makes sense, why he was at work one second, and in a lousy bed at Hawkins General the next.

“You didn’t hit your head. Hargrove caught you before you went all the way down.”

Jesus, Billy’s reflexes really are something else. Steve’s gonna need to thank him for that. The last fucking thing he needs is another concussion. Maybe, to show his gratitude, he’ll suck Billy’s-

“I’m here because we need to talk about what the doctors found in your system.”

Steve’s mind went blank, and his eyes flew open.

Hopper was looking at him, his face an unfamiliar mix of sad, and angry, and fucking, disappointed.

Steve felt like he could vomit.

“They ran your blood. Routine E.R. shit, I’m told. But they found some, some substances that shouldn’t be there.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He knew the guilt was written all over his face.

“How long?”

“Since the summer.” He couldn’t look at Hop in the face. Not while he admitted this shit.

He was fucking stupid to think he wouldn’t be caught.

It’s a miracle Robin hasn’t walked in on him doing bumps in the bathroom at work, or Billy hasn’t found his stash tucked between the mattress and the box spring.

Hopper sighed.

“I know we all went through a lot last summer. With your friend getting trapped in the Upside Down, and you getting captured-”

“Tortured. I got tortured.”

Hopper sighed again.

“Getting coked up isn’t going to help anything.”

“What is this? Fucking Family Ties?”

He felt Hopper’s glare more than he actually saw it.

“It’s stupid-”

“You just don’t get it! Okay?” He really didn’t mean to yell, his head just fucking hurts and he’s so fucking stupid.

“Oh yeah,” Hopper snarked. “I fucking forgot. You’re the only person in the goddamn world that’s ever dealt with fucking drug addiction. So sorry.”

“I’m not addicted!” Lie.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Steve glared at Hopper.

“So, what? You’re here to arrest me?”

“No. I’m here to talk some fucking sense into you.” He shifted in his chair, the newspaper slid off his lap and fell on the floor. “You’re around those kids all the time. You fucking drive them around. You have been endangering their lives for months. And why? Because you can’t handle the trauma? We all have trauma. You think your friend Hargrove is totally fine after being stuck in that place? After realizing some fucked up doppelgänger was killing people? You think your girlfriend is totally fine after being tortured by the Russians too?”

“I don’t do it when I have to drive the kids, Hop I swear.” That, was the truth. “Okay, the other stuff, I get your point, but I need you to know, I wouldn’t hurt the kids like that, I-” the heart monitor was speeding up, getting louder in Steve’s panic. “You have to believe me, I’ve never driven them high.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Hopper sighed again. “Just, why?”

Steve gulped.

“The Russians, they drugged us. They said it would make us tell them the truth. And I don’t know what it was, but fuck. It felt good. I couldn’t feel the pain, and I wasn’t scared, and I just. I didn’t know how to stop being scared.”

It was embarrassing.

Admitting that he’s been scared shitless ever since that first demogorgon dropped through the Byers’ ceiling.

Admitting he’s been doing lines of coke to keep himself from spiraling into inconsolable panic.

“I did some at a party, and it was the closest I felt to that feeling.”

Not technically true. He and Billy did some together last August, and it was like the fearlessness washed over Steve in warm waves.

But he can’t throw Billy under the bus like that.

And if Billy ever found out, that one night of drug experimentation between lovers turned into a full-on addiction, he’d never forgive himself.

There was a pause.

“Have you been snorting or shooting?”

“Snorting.”

“Okay,” Hopper stood up, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hat back on. “I’m going to tell your friends what’s going on. Not the kids, just Hargrove and Buckley. Joyce, too. Then, when you get out of here, you and I are going to clean out any stashes you’ve got. And we’re all going to be watching you like a fucking hawk.”

“Wait,” Steve croaked, his heart rate jumping up again, the beeping speeding up. “Don’t tell Billy.” Hopper shot Steve a look that said really? “Let me tell him. He needs to hear it from me.”

Hopper paused, on hand on the doorknob.

“Did he get you hooked? Is he on it too?”

“No! Nothing like that. Please? He’ll be upset unless I tell him.”

Hopper gave him a look that was a little too searching to be comfortable.

“Okay. Okay, kid. I’ll send him in. But he’ll know what’s going on one way or another. Don’t make me tell him that you’ve lied. Don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

He left the room without another word, leaving Steve to stew in his shame.

He’s such an idiot.

Why did he ever think he could get away with this and not one person would notice?

Even if they didn’t know he was regularly doing cocaine, Billy and Robin already knew something was up. They kept asking him if he was okay, coming over for impromptu sleepover parties. It was nice, he loves them both, but it was only a matter of time before the penny dropped.

It’s just embarrassing. That a routine blood test exposed the amount of uppers in his system. Exposed how little he’s dealing.

He rolled over, waiting for Billy to come into the room and blame himself for Steve’s stupidity. He didn’t want that.

Billy didn’t have a drug problem. He thought it’d be fun for them to get a little high and do stuff together. And it was! It was so fun, and they’d talked about doing it again.

Steve can kiss that idea goodbye.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Billy started following him into the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be.

It’s sweet, that his boyfriend cares so much about him that he would, hypothetically at least, do that.

But Billy’s got enough on his plate, and if Steve knows anything about him, it’s that he blames himself for shit just as much as Steve does.

He focused on the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Still elevated, his nerves for the coming conversation getting the best of him.

His head was pounding in a way that said it was time for his next fix.

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing away the need thrumming under his skin.

“So, you finally gonna tell me why you’ve been actin’ all squirrelly lately?”

#tw drug abuse #tw drug addiction #tw substance abuse #ask to tag #steve harrington #Jim hopper #harringrove #it’s mentioned a bunch #yikes writes #I don’t like this but *shrugs*#zest of lemon #again #mentioned in a few places #billy Hargrove

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riality-check · 8 months

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b-sides, part 1 of who knows how many

(Related to my Daisy Jones and the Six-inspired fic, runnin' with the devil. You don't need to read it to understand this little thing. TW: mentions of drug & alcohol addiction.)

Eddie was ten years old when he found out that most other people don’t have “kids’ spoons” and “good spoons” in their houses. To him, before finding that out, it made sense. He used the plastic spoons - washed them after every meal because it wasn’t often that they got new ones - to eat, and his parents used the metal ones, the ones gifted to them on their wedding day by the few relatives that didn’t hate the idea of showing up.

It made sense. After all, plastic melts if you hold it over a lighter.

The metal just scorched. Blackened a bit due to the heat. Each spoon had a little black circle on the bottom, one that never washed out or faded, one that was never given a chance to do either.

It shouldn’t have been so surprising. Eddie found out at six that Santa wasn’t real when he heard his parents fighting over money they didn’t have for Christmas presents. He was seven when he found out that the cops would come to the door if he answered his teacher honestly about having eaten that morning, or last night. He was eight when he realized that almost everything in the house was illegal, save for the food, the cigarettes, and the beer.

He had a sip of beer for the first time at nine. The can was lukewarm, sitting by the overflowing ashtray in the living room. It was gross.

Eddie took another sip anyway.

#ria writes #eddie munson #fic #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st #st ficlet #dja au #we'll see where this goes #i have a vague idea #but. let me know what y'all think.#angst #eddie munson backstory #tw drug abuse #tw alcoholism

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autism-criminal · 2 months

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if I had a nickel for each time I added a song about religion with undertones of drug abuse to my psych playlist , I’d have two nickels , which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

#tw drugs #tw drug abuse #psych

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the-edgy-fuckerz · 2 months

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I feel so fucking unlovable, this time it's cuz of my dumbass substance abuse issues, its not like I deserve love anyones, I'm just a fucking addict, I do this to myself, why would someone like me deserve love, I'm not ever trying to stop my issues, still slightly out of it from last night, I don't want to be sober, it's safe here,

#tw addiction #tw drug abuse #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #tw mental health #actually traumagenic

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girlyholic · 1 year

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In case the article ever goes down, here is an archived version.

While many of the articles posted on this blog have been quite old, this one is not, and is only a few days old at the time of this posting.

It is part 3 of a set of articles on the topics of Kabuki-cho and the culture of the Toyoko kids gang, which can all be accessed from both the original and the archived link.

This article specifically is a testimonial from a mother whose 15-year old daughter became embroiled in the culture of the Toyoko kids. It is mentioned that at first, she expressed interest in "landmine fashion", but it gradually spiraled into the girl finding people online and heavily participating in the drinking and drug abuse culture the group is known for.

#tw drug abuse #tw alcohol abuse #tw overdose #toyoko kids #j*rai #kabukicho #japanese #article #girly discourse

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gingeremu · 5 months

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Hey please someone talk to me about Lacey games I am hyper fixated currently and the fandom is a little niche and far too focused on “omg goth anime girl flash game teehee” and not “these are real girl games. Not the ones with pretty lies” right after a woman contorts in a mirror battered and bruised from her abuse and substance addiction and that dialogue is right before being shown the decayed corpse of her abuser that she murdered. Like I want to talk about it more please for the love of fuck talk to me

#the line I have hurt so I must hurt others #the line I know I came back willingly but there’s a comfort in the pain #the brutal and so very real depiction of abuse and what it does to you #how you’re so broken but you can’t imagine yourself as anything g but broken #so of course you stay #fuck #it’s so fucking good #tw abuse mention #tw abuse #abuse #tw substance abuse #tw drug abuse #lacey games #youtube horror

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gloomysoup · 5 months

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when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating) - pt. 2

so i decided not to be TOO mean and keep writing this... there will be at least one more part, maybe more, i haven't decided yet. honestly i'm just playing it by ear and seeing how far my brain chooses to take it. so here we go!!

ao3 pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

cw: drugs, drug abuse, illusions to overdose, minor character death, dissociation, hospitals, illusions to child neglect (i think that's it but please let me know if i missed anything)

Eddie hated hospitals.

He sat in the waiting room with his bandmates and their tour manager, thinking about the first time he ever had to go to the hospital.

He was seven years old. His mom had been self-medicating really badly again, floating through their house like a ghost. Pale and lifeless in a way she often was those days. His dad was always out of the house, claiming he was working. Eddie had always been suspicious of that, never sure exactly what kind of work he was doing. His dad never said what his job was, but Eddie knew he had a long history with criminal activity. Wayne had taken him out to the park that day for a couple hours in an effort to get him out of the house.

The nearby park had this line of trees by the pond, set off several feet from the playground itself. Eddie liked to climb those trees when he was a kid. He liked the way the bark felt, digging sharply into his palms. He liked feeling the wind blow, the leaves brushing against his face. It made him feel free. The scary parts of the world couldn't reach him in the treetops. Earthly fears stayed near the ground, tethered to the dirt while he put as much distance between them as he could. Wayne had warned Eddie not to climb too high. Eddie should've listened.

He climbed a few branches up on the tallest tree. His favorite tree to climb. He sat on one of the thicker branches, back against the trunk. He watched the leaves waving in the wind above him. His brain still itched with ground thoughts, so he climbed higher. He kept going until he wasn't worried about his mom anymore. He kept going until his head was blissfully empty of those stupid anxieties. He was finally free.

And then he was falling.

Eddie doesn't remember much of what happened. Wayne says a branch broke unexpectedly, giving way beneath his weight with a loud snap. He hit the ground and passed out. Wayne took him to the hospital, where the doctors said he was lucky. A fall like that and all he had was a broken arm. They put his left arm in a cast and kept him for a few hours of observation, just to be safe. They were worried about a brain injury, or internal bleeding. Wayne called his mom, to let her know what happened, but Eddie always assumed she was too drugged out to understand. She never showed up. Wayne stayed with him the whole time, trying to keep him entertained and distracted. The doctor had given Eddie something to help with the pain, but it didn't help with his dislike of hospitals. He hated sitting in a sterile, white hospital room. His nose burned with the smell of bleach and lemon-scented floor cleaner. He didn't know why they used that stuff. It was overwhelming. He couldn't escape the ground thoughts if he was tethered to the ground.

Once he was finally released, Wayne took him to the pharmacy to pick up his new prescription. Pain meds; take one as needed while the break heals— those mysteriously went missing only three days later, and Eddie suffered in silence from then on. Then Wayne took him home, where his mom was asleep on the couch and his dad was fuming. Eddie vaguely remembers laying in his bed while Wayne and his dad argued in the living room. He isn't sure what they argued about; Wayne never told him and always changed the subject if Eddie asked. He assumed it was about the hospital. Hospital bills aren't cheap.

He wasn't allowed to visit his mom when she was in the hospital. Wayne said she needed space to get better. He knows Wayne just didn't want him around all of that. The hospital always kept him from his mom in one way or another. And then there was the spring of ‘86. It only further solidified his hatred of hospitals. Confined to the lumpy, scratchy hospital bed for weeks. Beeping machines and lemon-scented floor cleaner. Sticky patches and wires that always tangled. Itchy IVs and sharp needles and drugs that made him float just on the edge of too far. He didn't like those. Reminded him too much of his mom.

And now here he was, sitting in the dull waiting room of a hospital in New York. He felt numb. Tears still rolled silently down his cheeks, though he wasn't sure how he had any left. He was completely unaware of the passage of time. It could've been minutes or days, and he wouldn't have noticed. He couldn't stop thinking about his mom. He hadn't thought about her this much in years.

“Eddie?” He looked up at Gareth, but he was barely seeing him. “I'm going to go call Wayne, let him know what's happening. Do you want to come talk to him?”

Eddie blinked slowly a few times, his eyes still glassy. He didn't answer. All he did was stare, unseeing and silent. Gareth sighed, shooting Jeff and Grant a look.

Jeff frowned, also standing. “I should call Robin. She should know too.”

“Go,” Grant said, nodding toward the phones. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Their tour manager was talking to a nurse a few feet away. Eddie couldn't hear what they were saying. He didn't know how this could've happened. He didn't understand how he missed this.

His thoughts wandered back to the day Wayne found out he was selling.

Eddie sat on the front step, watching Wayne and Hopper talking in the yard. Wayne was frowning, nodding along to whatever Hopper said. Eddie knew he was mad. Why wouldn't he be? Eddie was illegally selling drugs, and just got caught by the chief for it. Luckily, Hopper was in a good enough mood just to give him a warning and a ride home. Made him promise he wasn't going to do it anymore. They both knew that was a lie.

When Hopper got back in his cruiser and drove away, Eddie watched Wayne take a breath before he turned around. Eddie shrank back at the look his uncle gave him.

“Wayne, I-”

“Hush up.” Eddie shut up instantly. “You're gonna listen close, understood?” Eddie nodded. “Jim was kind enough to let you off this time, but he won't be next time. There better not be a next time.”

“But, Wayne, I-”

“No buts.” Wayne gave him another look. Eddie knew he was disappointed. He hated disappointing Wayne. Hated it even more than he hated making Wayne mad. His uncle had always done so much for him. The least he could've done was not cause trouble. “Drugs are a dangerous thing, Ed. I know you know that.”

He did know, is the thing. He knew better than most people just how dangerous drugs were. Drugs tore his family apart. Drugs killed his mother. Drugs were the main reason Eddie lived with Wayne at all.

Eddie looked down at his hands, fiddling with one of his rings. He didn't have all that many yet. “I just wanted to help with the bills,” he said softly.

Wayne sighed and sat next to him on the rickety steps. Eddie slid over to make room. “You ain't gotta worry ‘bout no damn bills, Ed. That's for me to take care of. You just gotta be a kid.”

Eddie frowned. “I just thought that, maybe, if I could help, you wouldn't have to work so hard. I know taking care of me is a lot of extra money.” He paused. “I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment.”

Burden. That's what he wants to say. Disappointment is what comes out. Maybe that's for the better.

“You're not a disappointment, Ed. I just don't want you endin' up like your mama, that's all. And while I do appreciate you wantin’ to help, I don't need ya to. I'm perfectly capable of takin’ care of us. You're fifteen, Ed. Be a kid, for Christ’s sake. Don't worry ‘bout anythin’ else yet.”

From that day on, Eddie stayed away from anything harder than weed or the occasional shrooms. He made a promise to himself that he'd stay away from it. For Wayne. For his mom. Wayne knew he kept selling, but they didn't talk about it. The K he intended on selling Chrissy that fateful night was a fluke. A one-off. It was something extra Rick had given him before he got locked away. Eddie hadn't even intended on selling it at all; he was just going to keep it hidden away until Rick got out, and then he'd give it back.

After Chrissy, Eddie didn't touch anything for a long time. When the band got themselves a record deal, when they started going out to parties to network with more of the industry, Eddie started smoking weed again. He never touched anything more than that. He knew better. He worried about his bandmates falling to the same vices that killed his mom, even though they also stayed away from it. Her ghost still haunted him. It kept him hypervigilant. He was always watching for addictive behaviors.

So how did he not see it?

How long had Steve been falling down that path without Eddie even knowing?

He should've known.

Eddie blinked, and Gareth was standing in front of him with a bottle of water. When had he come back?

“Eddie, you gotta drink something,” Gareth said gently, holding the open bottle toward him. Eddie pulled his knees tightly to his chest and shook his head. Gareth sighed and sat next to him in the uncomfortable hospital chairs.

That was another thing Eddie hated about hospitals. Everything was uncomfortable. The chairs, the beds, the wires and tubes. IVs itched and the gowns crinkled weirdly. It was a sensory hellscape, truthfully. How did anyone handle it?

“Eddie.” He blinked again, looking beside him. Gareth was still holding the bottle toward him. “Come on, man. At least a little bit. We're worried about you.”

Eddie took the bottle, but his hands were shaking so much he could barely keep a grasp on it. He forced it toward his mouth, his throat burning as the cool water slipped past his lips. He gave it back to Gareth. He looked like he wanted Eddie to drink more, but took the bottle anyway.

“Are you…” Gareth started, but his sentence fell off as he seemed to search for the correct word. “Obviously not okay. That'd be stupid. Of course you aren't okay. I don't know what I was even thinking.” He looked over at Eddie, his rambling cut off.

Gareth always rambled when he was anxious. Worried. It didn't happen all that often. Gareth was pretty laid back, never worked up about much. The exact opposite of Steve. Steve worried about everything. Steve rambled a lot, like Robin. God, Robin. Eddie should talk to her. They hadn't had time lately to call. She was probably worried. Eddie could easily bet she'd been rambling a lot lately. Then again, Robin always rambled. She wasn't like Gareth, who only rambled when he was worried about something or someone. Speaking of Gareth, he was sitting there staring at Eddie with that worried little pinch in his brows. Eddie should answer. He should, but he can't. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth. It won't form shapes or push air through his lips. It won't do anything it's supposed to do. It just sits there, heavy, making it impossible for Eddie to say something, anything.

“Eddie?” Gareth waved a hand in front of him. Eddie blinked. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Eddie thought hard. Gareth’s mouth had definitely been moving just a few moments before, but anything after the ramble was lost on him. He had no clue what he had said. He shook his head. Gareth sighed.

“I talked to Wayne.”

Oh. Wayne.

God, Eddie didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, he needed Wayne. The man was a solid figure in the storm of Eddie’s life. He had always been there. He never walked away like Eddie’s dad. Eddie wanted little more than to curl up on the lumpy couch with Wayne like he had after his mom died. On the other hand, Eddie didn't want Wayne to know about any of this. He didn't want Wayne to have to live through this again. He didn't want Wayne to feel like he had to deal with Eddie again.

“He said he’ll try to catch the next flight out.”

Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He quickly shook his head back and forth, so hard that his neck popped and his hair flung across his face. Wayne couldn't come. He shouldn't have to. He would have to call out of work. Wayne never calls out of work. Eddie didn't want to be the reason he started. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He couldn't force his tongue to move. His lips failed to form the letters and syllables required to speak.

It was then that their tour manager approached, looking somber. Like he had bad news. Eddie wanted to be anywhere else. He wanted to go back; back to when things were simple and Steve wasn't dying. He wanted to go back to being a kid and stop his mom. He just wanted this to stop.

“Eddie, he's alive.”

Eddie hated that instead of being relieved, his heart crumbled.

Steve was alive, but at what cost?

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tag list: @acowardinmordor @mugloversonly @djohawke @hallucinatedjosten @geekyfifi @current-steddie-brainrot

i tagged people who either asked to be tagged or showed interest in wanting more but lemme know if you wanna be added! like i said, there will be at least one more part, but probably more than that tbh

hope you've enjoyed !!

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whumpcateyes · 3 months

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who is this man? i dont know, but he sure is fun to fuck with

#weirdcateyes original #unconnected creations #whump #whump comic #tw kidnapping #implied torture #tw drug abuse

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babyspacebatclone · 4 months

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A reply from one of @spop-romanticizes-abuse ‘s posts.

It’s old, was ignored at the time, and I’ll follow their lead by not engaging with the poster directly and ask you all to do the same.

Catra lives rent free in my head?

You know what, fuck, yeah, she does.

You know who else lives rent free in my head?

Let’s see…

Note: Check out the trigger warnings at the top of under the cut.

I am only referring to them obliquely.

But I mean every one.

Trigger warnings:

Domestic Abuse, Spousal Abuse, No-Contact Orders, Traffic Accidents, Alcohol Abuse, Drug Abuse, Rehab, Arrests, Infidelity, Implied but not confirmed Child Abuse, Aggression in Children, PTSD, Night Terrors

We can start with the parents of one set of siblings at my daycare.

And the time the father was arrested in front of them.

Because he was caught speeding.

With his unmarried partner and their three kids in the car.

When she had a no contact order on him.

Or how about the mother of another set of four kids I’ve worked with, now mother of five?

Who was arrested and put into rehab when she crashed her car with the then-four kids in it. While intoxicated. Weed or alcohol, it could have been either.

The four siblings were separated between the then two baby-daddies.

Well, the second one took the younger two kids and has been an amazing father to them despite the fact the youngest in the most cliché way possible does not look like his White Hillbilly ass.

Actually, the months she was in rehab were the best for those kids, her reintegrating with the still-separated kids has gone better than I feared but, well, with the new baby (who doesn’t go to my daycare), you can imagine the bar I was expecting.

How about the mother of the preschooler we had to kick out of our center for aggression against staff and kids? The kid who openly lied about adults attempting to hurt him when they didn’t let him get his way, in a manner all the staff agreed felt if not coached then encouraged from said mother, potentially in regards to visits from the father…

And I never met him, so I live with the question - rent free in my head - if it had been justified or not.

Oh! How about the other kid we had to kick out for aggression, who would hit kids with a closed fist as a toddler??? Spoiler, that’s not the natural way a kid hits people.

…. I only have second-hand rumor about why the mother left biodad, but I’m sure you can imagine.

Oh, wait! I almost forgot!

The kid that left our center because her family had to move.

Into a shelter for domestic abuse victims.

The one that had screaming night terrors three times a week at nap time. For months.

Spoilers: While night terrors at that age can be caused from non-trauma sources, those are usually short term.

That one left pre-COVID, I haven’t actually spent time being enraged by that one in a while.

What with the previous ones all being 2021 to currenr.

So yeah!

Catra lives rent-free in my head.

I wonder fucking why??????

#tw babybat fucking swears #tw babybat is fucking furious #tw domestic abuse #tw spousal abuse #tw child abuse #tw ptsd #tw alcohol abuse #tw drug abuse #tw rehab #tw night terrors #tw arrests

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