#(and i say this as someone with an anxiety disorder myself)

[weepylucifer]

i'm gonna be real here, it's fun to read some hugely melodramatic angst, fun to write it too, but sometimes i think in some situations the characters would actually be thriving. like kallus in season 4 of rebels. that man is thriving in the rebellion, that's the entire point. look at him with his vintage leather jacket and his hair all artfully ruffled. his ass is NOT walking on his knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting

[galwithalibrarycard]

Tell me why every fictional character who has an anxiety disorder also has at least one love interest (except for the one character who’s asexual, love you Beth March from March Family Letters). For that matter tell me why everyone I know IRL who has anxiety issues also has a partner or at least an ex. Tell me why the DSM says women with social anxiety are likely to be married but not to have a job, and I’m the reverse. Tell me why it’s only me whose self-isolation has been so bad that I’m about to be 30 and never been kissed. What is it about me specifically? What’s it take, huh?!

[honeykyeom]

hey! please don’t do this!

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

It’s that time of year where you get to hear family members be incredibly misinformed about things you’re super autistic about and you have to keep yourself from angry infodumping because you don’t actually want to spend your time fighting over this while eating but it’s so hard and you are being so so good about it, but they really have no fucking idea how that works and you don’t even know where you would begin countering whatever they’ve been told

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

Every time I stop myself from anxious spiraling I deserve a cookie. A good cookie, that's homemade and chewy.

[boomerang109]

not to be bitter but i’m bitter

[uncuteartist]

OP, I get you have a lot of feelings and want to make ethical decisions and shit. But, like, you're taking a lot of pain and guilt on yourself for something that is ultimately the restaurant's decision. Even if they don't normally do it, if they really wanted to they could cook up another batch in, like, an hour. Neither you nor your friend is obligated ration your enjoyment in order for a business to win a game of lemonade stand.

And if other patrons don't get a tart, they aren't going to die. They aren't going to be sent into a pit of despair. They might decide to get another dessert or go out for ice cream. Or just be okay with having nothing. Or be non-lethally disappointed for a minute or two. That ball's in their court.

You aren't the only person with agency in this equation. Other people are independently making decisions and in charge of their own reactions as well. I get where you're coming from and I applaud you for trying to be nice, but you should consider that the stakes aren't that high in this situation. Neither of you have to tear yourself apart to save a maximum of one person from not getting a tart.

I went to a restaurant with a friend yesterday and upon entering we saw these splendid blueberry tarts under bell jars on the counter and we made jokey small talk with the waitress like oh, people will fight over these if there's not enough for everyone, it'll tear families apart, are you making more later? and she said no, I'm afraid that's our entire stock for today, but there are 18 slices, it should be plenty! It was a small village restaurant with only one menu du jour so there weren't any other dessert options but they don't usually get that many customers—but then a couple of large groups arrived and most people noticed the tarts like we did, and went ohh blueberry tart, it's been a while, I can't wait, and it became clear that when we'd get to the end of our meal there would be winners and losers in the blueberry tart rush

But later as we were about to order dessert I wasn't hungry anymore and I was like well that's too bad but someone else will be glad to get 'my' slice of tart—and my friend said yeah, me :) You should order it anyway, I'll eat both! At first I thought she was joking, but no. I said, there's not enough for everyone, you can't take two, and she said, we were going to order two slices, what difference does it make? and I was baffled that she couldn't see the ethical difference between two people eating one slice of tart each vs. one person eating two, when there's a limited quantity of tart. I felt like we were in a simplistic social justice metaphor it was so obvious, but there was no changing her mind. When I said "it's just... not nice" she said "okay" with a shrug, and what can you say to that. She added, you don't know any of these people and I was like, why are we reverting to tribal dynamics in a non-apocalyptic setting, how would you feel if we'd arrived a bit later and seen others ordering two desserts knowing you'd get zero? And she said, I would think that's their right, and I felt kind of amazed.

I pointed out that if she didn't think it was a wee bit wrong, she wouldn't ask me to order her second piece as if it was for me, and she said yeah maybe we don't need to do that, there's no law preventing me from ordering two desserts. What about Kant's categorical imperative Okay I guess you're not breaking any laws by taking more than your fair share of a thing other people also want, just failing a kindergarten-level morality test. I felt embarrassed for sounding like an annoying preachy rigid person so I dropped the issue, and as she ate her two slices she'd smile at me every time we overheard someone order coffee without dessert—like "See? There'll be enough, no one will be deprived of tart because of me!" as if that cancelled the fact that she didn't care in the first place. I guess it was one of these tiny issues that can still significantly alter the way you perceive a person. I tried to tell myself not to be so bothered about this small thing but I was! so bothered. And I felt like writing a letter to some agony aunt like "should I end a friendship over irreconcilable blueberry tart ethics"

[transmutationisms]

I have always been wary of the psychiatric industry, but its only very recently that i started to read anti-psychiatric works. Your blog is the first time i saw that the "chemical imbalances causing mental illness" is a myth, and honestly its something im having a hard time wrapping my head around.

Is it that mood regulation struggles, labelled as a mental illnesses, has more to do with outside factors instead of the person "just being that way"? Is it therefore unlikely for someone to have struggles with mood regulation if they cant identify any external causes that would cause them to be, for example, extremely agoraphobic or to have anger management issues? Im asking this for myself mainly, cause i always had intense agoraphobia no matter how i often go outside my home (in fact it was worse when i was a teen and i was outside the house in even more back then). I cant think of any reason for me to be like this than chemical imbalances in my brain.

the specific 'chemical imbalance' myth i was talking about in this post is the idea that depression is caused by low serotonin, and that therefore SSRIs—serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, ie drugs that cause a higher level of serotonin in the brain—ought to cure or at least ameliorate depression. this conjecture is belied by the fact that SSRIs don't, at a population level, reliably perform better than placebo.

although a neurobiological cause of 'mental illness' has long been the holy grail of psychiatry, the serotonin imbalance myth is far from the only hypothesis that psychiatrists and neuroscientists have proposed. so, a critique of the serotonin myth is not synonymous with, or generalisable to, a critique of every neurobiological mechanism purported to explain psychiatric diagnoses. you may be interested to know, though, that genomics and neuroscience have not identified a biological cause of any psychiatric diagnosis (p. 851).

all human experiences are biologically instantiated, including in the brain and wider nervous system. we are embodied beings. however, it is a leap to assume that such instantiation is automatically equivalent to a causal explanation or disease etiology. in other words, to deny that psychiatric diagnoses are known to be biologically caused does not mean we deny that thoughts and thought patterns express in the physical matter of neuroanatomy. this is a major philosophical sticking point to keep in mind whenever you're looking at something like, eg, a study that purports to show 'brain differences' in those assigned a certain psychiatric diagnosis. another thing to consider is whether these papers are plagued with methodological issues or financial conflicts of interest.

i can't possibly tell you why you exhibit agoraphobia. however, when i talk about social, economic, and environmental factors that may contribute to the patterns of behaviour labelled as 'mental illness', i'm talking about much more than the individual choice to leave your house. since phobias are 'anxiety disorders', i might start by probing into questions like: is the world you live in safe? do you perceive it as safe? do you or your community face existential threats that may confront you more obviously when you go outside? are you nervous around other people, and if so, might that be connected to fears (well-founded or not) about interpersonal violence and harm? do you think any of these anxieties may be connected to the hostility and inaccessible design of the social environment and economic conditions?

human behaviour and thought varies. some of those variations may be totally benign; others may be helpful or harmful to the person living with them. it would be weird if every single one of the 8 billion people on earth experienced precisely the same amount of anxiety about any situation, no? all of this is to say: yeah, it's entirely possible you have been, for one reason or another (genetic, neuroanatomical, social, &c) predisposed to experience high, even debilitating levels of anxiety when leaving your home. most human characteristics develop from a tangle of social, environmental, material causes—ie, from a combination of 'nature' and 'nurture'. what doesn't follow, though, is the claim that there is therefore a discrete, 'diseased' element of your brain or brain functioning that can simply be cured or eliminated through psychiatric intervention.

it is a critical point of anti-psychiatry to challenge psychiatric and neuroscientific claims to neurobiological determinism where psychiatric diagnoses are concerned. this is for many reasons, including: a) that these claims have not been demonstrated to actually be true [see above]; b) that they rob pathologised people of agency and self-determination [see: you're too sick to know you're sick, and the doctor will fix you now]; c) that they are often pushed by pharmaceutical companies with financial interests, or grant-funded researchers with... financial interests; d) that they are politically seductive in various eugenic, hereditarian discourses that seek to eliminate the biologically 'unfit' element from society.

[tiniestkitty]

―୨୧⋆ ˚ tips for regressors struggling with depression and anxiety 🌧️

🧸 one thing that has helped me tremendously has been starting a therapy / mental health journal. you can find prompts online, or even come up with your own ! I find tracking my triggers (what makes me feel upset or anxious), reflecting on how I handled my day, writing my thoughts, and what I'd like to bring up in my next therapy session helps me feel a lot better. ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

-- you can take time to learn about your brain and how it makes choices; for example, learning about and researching your trauma responses, mental illnesses and how to ground yourself during panic attacks. sometimes our brain can make us feel or think things that we can't control, so its important to differentiate between what we are telling ourselves and what our brain is telling us.

🫧 be kind to yourself and take time to rest if you need to. Indulge in things you like and find calming activities to do after a hard day such as coloring, doing a fun craft, playing a video game or using play therapy.

🧸 distance yourself from relationships or people that make you feel uncomfortable or are harmful to your mental health. its not mean to say you need space. you can still be friends and have established boundaries, and if someone dose not respect those boundaries its okay to distance yourself from them or take a break from talking to them until you start to feel better and are more capable of saying how important those boundaries are.

🫧 make sticker charts and schedules ! I have one for brushing my teeth. I also use a fun app on my phone called Pokémon Smile that reminds me to brush and sets a timer. ૮₍ ˃ ᵕ ˂ ₎ა

🧸 find little things to look forward to, like a new movie coming out, a birthday or a Holliday you love. sometimes I order little gifts for myself in the mail after doing a big task or getting trough a hard day hehe ! ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

🫧 clean your space, and maybe even redecorate a little to give yourself a fresh start 🤍

🧸 find ways to "work around" overwhelming tasks like running errands or going to the doctor by bringing a comfort item or stuffed animal with you. you could keep them in your bag if you are too shy to hold them, but from my experience, no one seems to mind hehe. /lh I also like to pack fidget toys to hold when I get anxious.

note: I'm not a medical professional and I'm just speaking from my experience as someone with generalized anxiety disorder and severe depression. not everything listed here might work for you, but I hope you found this helpful. 💕 /lh

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ extra recourses 🌧️

how to use agere for self care - YouTube

hotline numbers for emergencies - tumbr

inner child healing journal prompts - Silk + Sonder website ( no adds )

[furiousgoldfish]

When people hear stories about abuse, they often get fascinated and interested in the abuser, and the 'mystery' behind their behaviour. They'll want to analyze what happened to this person to make them act in such twisted and sadistic ways, and they want to find the past event or past abuse that would 'explain it all'. Abusers will also, very happily recount the past abuse whenever it's time to explain away their behaviour, so nobody could hold them accountable, because after all, they had had it rough! Of course they're now abusive, it's only natural.

Fascination with explaining away abuser's behaviour often leaves victim's situation forgotten and ignored. Victims are supposed to just 'get over it', not be so sensitive, and be careful to not turn into abusers themselves, because after all, being abused means you become an abuser, according to the abuser. Except it doesn't, and victims often don't end up abusing anyone else, especially not in the horrific ways they themselves have been abused. So we're having two opposing stories: one is told by the abuser, and it's easy, simple, explains everything away, and it says, abuse causes future abusers, I am the proof, I was abused and now I am like this. Victim's story goes: I was abused, and now I struggle to function, I have cptsd, I have flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety, eating disorder. I struggle with suicidal feelings and wishing I didn't exist. I feel like I'm not important at all in this world and like I have no community, no family, no home. Failure of everyone to help me while I was being abused caused me to feel like an outcast from society, someone who isn't a part of it, who doesn't matter. I would never do this to another person, I feel like a part of me was torn away into pieces and I struggle to put myself back together.

Now that story is complex, it implicates the society in failing to stop the abuse and making the victim's life worse, it showcases the actual consequences of abuse, which are not 'becoming evil', but feeling ultimately traumatized and damaged, struggling to find joy and happiness in life in the aftermath. Society doesn't want to hear that; it makes abuse into a problem that should collectively be dealt with, rather than pushing it all onto individuals who find themselves trapped in it and suffering. It's much easier to pretend that abuse just makes someone abusive, and for people who are abusive, we need to feel sorry for, because they were 'made to be like this', and for those abused, we just need to shame them and control them so they don't become abusive themselves.

There are abusers who have lived privileged lives, there are abusers who have been spoiled and rewarded for their acts of abuse. Most abusers don't show the symptoms of trauma nearly as bad as the victims of abuse do, they're most often just having the symptoms of 'I lash out my anger on those who cannot defend themselves' and 'everyone needs to feel sorry for me because I am having the roughest time on the planet'. Weird how the victims almost never develop these two symptoms! Victims will go and compare their situation to everyone who has it worse, and will struggle to express or direct anger at anything. 

So what is the actual source of abuse, if not past trauma? There's no study or statistics that can tell us that for sure, and abusers are careful to maintain their story and are not interested in being studied past what makes people feel bad for them. I would guess that it's a mix of entitlement, being in a position of power over someone vulnerable, never having to develop empathy or compassion, being rewarded continuously for acts of abuse, and social influence (admiring other abusers and wanting the power they have). A lot of social structures support and enable abuse of those who are at the very bottom of it, with very few protections against it. A lot of people believe it's their right to abuse someone if they have the power over that person, and gain power specifically for that cause. Abusers will have children and believe this is their property and they can do whatever they please with it, abuse being a part of it.

If we don't know where abuse comes from, how do we combat it? I don't believe in feeling sorry for the abusers or giving them endless attention, chances, excuses and rationalizations; instead I believe we should stand firm on the fact that abuse is inexcusable, and will have consequences, regardless of how it came into their behaviour. If abuse always had consequences, regardless of the history of the abuser, they would know they can't get away with it, that they can't later make everyone feel sorry for them and go on with their sob stories. Abuse would get them punished, not sympathized with.

I also believe the abuser's point of view should be decentralized; it should be victims who get to speak. It's easy for the abuser to show themselves in the positive light, minimizing the abuse, insisting the victim provoked or wanted it, that it wasn't that bad and it was done with 'best intentions'. But if we listened to victims, we would quickly understand that anyone who can do this to another person is monstrous, and should not be extended any sympathy. Abusers don't extend their sympathy to the victims when they abuse, so why should they expect to get it? Society should take abuse more seriously and put defenses into place, so abusers are not as easily able to put it behind closed doors. Resources for recognizing abuse, especially child abuse and intimate abuse, should be taught, spread and shared in society, so nobody would be able to convince another that suffering abuse is normal, or justified.

One of the biggest barriers to escaping abuse is victim confessing what's been happening to a trusted family member or a friend, and then this family member or a friend shaming and blaming them for it, instead of offering help and protection. It takes a lot of courage to even say something out loud, knowing the abuser would punish them for it, and then to be punished externally for speaking out, it's devastating. If abuse was taken seriously, and victims understood to be fault-free, but singled out, isolated and hurt in a way that nobody should be, and it was understood it's a societal responsibility to protect them against this, it would be easier to speak out, and get support. It often takes a society to help someone get free, because abusers are hell-bent on abusing once they start to, the victims need multiple barriers before abusers could get anywhere near them.

And why shouldn't we want that? If we know there are people in society such as children, young people, people without regular income, poor people, disabled people, compassionate people, marginalized people, people who struggle to recognize and flag down predators, shouldn't we want to make sure they're protected? That nothing bad happens to them, and they're free to live their lives safe from those who would do them continuous harm and make them want to die? We want our young, old, kind, vulnerable, sensitive, disabled, poor, compassionate and marginalized people safe and happy. There's no reason to throw them under the bus and leave them to suffer abuse.

[jamesevanwilsonirl]

James Wilson has an anxiety disorder and I’m going to tell everyone about it.

That was a really long title and pointless. I could have stopped after the first six words.

Anyways, hi, hello, if you don’t know me, my name is James and I really like James Wilson. I also like writing a lot. I also have an anxiety disorder. That led to this amalgamation of headcanons and thoughts about James Wilson.

So, I don’t even know how to start this. Fair warning, I have completely canon divergent headcanons with no canon evidence and just pure projection. I also use commas way too much.

Besides projection, why do I think he has anxiety? Well, I relate to him a lot and lots of his canon social behaviors do reflect my experience as well as others’ experiences with GAD or SAD. I think it goes ignored a lot with Wilson that a lot of his behaviors like people pleasing or having few friends is actually symptom of anxiety. Also, anxiety and depression are often comorbid or associated. In the show, specially that Social Contract episode, it’s SUPER apparent. As someone who headcanons he has both, his “I don’t have to worry around you” monologue to House could be read as a symptom/sign of GAD or ASD. I’m not going to get into my personal social anxieties and such, but I relate to that monologue HEAVILY. Stressing about what you say and having to mask your anxiety around people who don’t understand is a lot. There’s like, two people I can talk to without stressing the fuck out. Back to Wilson, though. His fear of breaking rules is also Anxiety™️ Symptom #1000. He is the most typical man ever on the show, or at least outwardly appears as one. He often fidgets with his hands while he talks and I know that’s because RSL is a stage actor but a guy can dream, alright?

People pleasing. Oh, boy. I could talk about this one for hours. James Wilson loves pleasing people, it doesn’t mean loving people for some but it does for him. He constantly needs to be needed, he always has to be helping, yet he’s never helped. He doesn’t want to speak the things he’s feeling because he feels that means being a burden!! that means being wrong!! that means letting people down!! He likely enjoys being with House so much because he knows it’s impossible to let him down, he doesn’t have to necessarily worry about pleasing him because House is like, very aware of what he’s thinking. House doesn’t give a fuck about what people feel most of the time.

Onto the less canon stuff and just more headcanon and/or projection stuff:

He has obsessive interests he uses to cope, like films. I’m basing that off of his posters and also… myself. This is projection, here.

He cannot do a lot in a short span of time. Worrying takes a lot of his energy and he needs recovery days. He’ll often just sleep for over 12 hours because he had to talk a lot and that means worrying and preplanning everything he was going to say.

He was either late-diagnosed or doesn’t even realize he has anxiety. Yes, he’s a doctor, that sounds odd but let me explain. Men around his age, but also in general, aren’t too open about their mental health struggles. They just think it’s normal. If he was late diagnosed, it was likely when he was seeking out a depression diagnosis. Off topic but can we talk about that for a moment? The show ignored that after the one mention. Season four spoilers ahead so skip to the next bullet point if you’re not there. Here are some filler words so people can scroll. Yadda yadda yadda. HIS GIRLFRIEND DIED!! THAT WOULD FUCK WITH ANYONE BUT ESPECIALLY SOMEONE WITH MDD!! Also, he’s medicated. Medication typically means it was affecting his day to day life. Medication means admitting something wasn’t right and that was likely very hard for him!! Anyways.

His first panic attack scared the living hell out of him. If he was young and still living with his family, he didn’t want to be a burden. He sat in his room sobbing for hours on end because he didn’t understand why his body was doing this. (Chest pain, shaking, not listening to him repeating Calm Down like a mantra, etc.) If he was older, I imagine he likely still didn’t tell anyone but it scared him for a different reason. It meant to him that he was broken. It meant to him that he needed something. He needed help and that scared him.

Intrusive thoughts. I imagine they got worse after S4 finale happened. That’s really it.

Coping? What’s that? He just ignores it.

Once again, breaking rules horrifies him.

That’s all. Goodbye. I do see the possibility of a lot of these being interpreted as ASD but I have a whole other post for that, maybe. Comment any thoughts and feelings. Be nice.

[childofthewolvess]

My experience with spiritual psychosis as a practicing pagan and how to recognize the signs of a psychotic episode in contemporary witchcraft practices.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of S/H, schizophrenic behaviors, psychosis, religious manipulation.

Buckle up, because this is going to be one hell of a ride.

A DEFINITION OF SPIRITUAL PSYCHOSIS - "Religious-spiritual crises include distress associated with the weakening or loss of faith, turbulent conversions, and affective states associated with negative spirituality. The differential diagnosis in regard to psychosis is often challenging... Although the crisis and psychosis groups scored similarly on perplexity, self-disorder, depression, and anxiety, the disturbance of social contact and cognition was observed only in psychosis" (Kállai & Kéri, 2020: Religious-spiritual crisis or psychosis? The impact of basic symptoms in the differentiation of prepsychotic states).

To summarize the above definition, Kállai & Kéri (2020) differentiated spiritual crisis with spiritual psychosis through one particular symptom: social withdrawal and disturbance of cognitive functions. If you Google the word "spiritual psychosis", you'll get a wealth of articles and websites cautioning on symptoms that aren't entirely accurate to spiritual psychosis. It is important to consider that spirituality, especially witchcraft and paganism, have been demonized since Christianization and it is integral to recognize that these beliefs still exist today. This heavily impacts spiritual psychosis and its diagnosis, especially within pagan communities, as there are still individuals who want to convince others that if they are a pagan, they must be ""clinically insane"" (I say this, as someone federally disabled from clinical OCD, PTSD, and ASD). It is super important to realize that a lot of people will point the fingers at pagans very quickly to say "HEY! That person is insane because they are talking to a god!" when the same person goes back home to pray every night to God and ask them for forgiveness. This isn't meant as an attack on Christians, but rather to point out the hypocrisy that can occur when this topic arises in religious spaces.

I say this, as a medicated, healthy, and healing individual who practices deity worship, work, tarot, astrology, and spirit work! Not all paganism is "spiritual psychosis", but there are definitely facets and wings of spirituality/neopaganism (in particular) that can lead right down the path of the red pill and psychosis to the right-wing ideology (looking at you, Grimm).

To begin my story: my spiritual psychosis took place pre-COVID, around 2017-2018 timeframe.

I also want to note that this is my experience; this experience does not define everyone who has experienced spiritual psychosis, nor meant as a diagnostic tool. I am simply here to share my story and hopefully spread awareness in the pagan community to help others recognize the signs of potential psychosis and ultimately make our community safer, more inviting, and more healthy.

I also want to make this ABUNDANTLY CLEAR: you do not have to have preexisting mental/emotional disabilities to experience spiritual psychosis.

Anyone can experience spiritual psychosis, and that's what makes it so incredibly dangerous! The above belief is what ultimately led to my downfall and unfortunate experience with psychosis, almost causing to my own death. I am not an individual with any preexisting mood disorders; I do not experience mania symptoms or psychotic symptoms, and never have, outside of this experience. When I was going through spiritual psychosis, I told myself that "this must be real, because I don't have BPD or mania or schizophrenia!" In my head, I was "happy and healthy", and I continuously told myself that because I was happy, it couldn't have been psychosis. It's also important to mention that I was 15-16 years old when I experienced this, so I was already within a vulnerable population to religious manipulation due to being in a rough mental state and exploring who I was as a teenager.

Please do not try to diagnose me in the comments. I am monitored and medicated by a physician, psychiatrist, and therapist, and have been evaluated again and again for mood disorders since this experience. I have consistently, multiple times, failed the diagnostic measures for disorders consisting of psychotic episodes, mania, or bipolar-type disabilities. Trying to diagnose someone actively experiencing spiritual psychosis and slapping a label on them will only make the problem worse, I PROMISE. Same goes for individuals in recovery from psychosis.

On a similar note, if a loved one is going through spiritual psychosis, and needs help, simply telling them that it's "not real" or that they're in psychosis will probably not work; it didn't work on me, at least. What I needed was medical intervention, and this problem marinated in my head for over a year because of negligence and ignorance to the severity of my state. Telling someone with spiritual psychosis that they have spiritual psychosis WILL NOT WORK, I promise. Reach out to their doctor, a hotline, or a professional in a medical field if you suspect a friend or loved one is in a psychotic episode. Please, for me—don't try to play the savior, because they might think they are the savior.

That being said, I also will say that OCD can share a lot of similarities with BPD, and I've talked to a ton of fellow OCD-ers that have had spiritual psychosis experiences.

I will also mention that certain chemicals or medications can influence the onset of spiritual psychosis! At this time, I was struggling through a lot of menstrual issues, and was placed on a oral birth control (progesterone) that was notorious for causing delusion, with users of the hormone reporting that "they literally felt like they were going insane". I snapped out of my spiritual psychosis the second I went off the medication. This is not to blame pharmaceuticals or scream out to the void that medicine is bad (I am happily medicated and monitored by a doctor, psychiatrist, and therapist now!) but to emphasize that outside influences can, and will, encourage the onset of spiritual psychosis.

Here is a list of some of the events, symptoms (unique to me), and beliefs I held during my spiritual psychosis. I've bolded critical drivers of my episode.

I was a "Christian witch" at this time, and believed that I was a lightworker sent by God among a group of 20 or so individuals to "heal" others

I was socially withdrawn, without any true friends. I had one online friend at the time, who was also going through spiritual psychosis with me, making this problem much worse.

I was constantly compulsion-checking (OCD) for signs such as angel numbers, words, messages, to the point where I could not concentrate because of the desparate need for reassurance

I was obsessed with the concept of talking to and doing spellwork on real people in the astral to "heal them", and it gave me a sense that I was not alone; this was not consensual to these people, who I did know in real life, and I was convinced that was okay, because...

I believed in twin flame ideology, which I have consistently not only seen mentioned from other survivors of spiritual psychosis, but often encourages toxic relationships, abuse, and stalking.

I thought I was an earth angel who had a past life as an angel. This included delusions so severe that I thought I could "feel my wings" and that I "wasn't meant to be on earth" (this can slip so quickly into su*cidal ideation, and it did for me)

I created my own world in my head that I would meditate to enter, essentially, where I had an entire family of spirits taking care of me, including my "future kids" (I had internalized homophobia)

I could not sleep, function, and barely could eat. This is a defining, tell-tale sign of any form of psychosis: I was so obsessed with meditating and entering the astral realm, that I was completely dissociated from the real world. In a sense, I was not existing in the physical world, at all.

I could hear and see "spirits" who would tell me uncomfortable things. They would appear as voices in my head that I didn't want there, but believed I had to let be there if I wanted to continue on my path as a healer.

I had gone from a state of depression so badly that I was unable to function, to "happy and healthy" in my psychotic mania during this. If you find yourself quickly turning from a down to an up, be aware.

I thought I was pregnant with a spirit unconsensually. This one I will say with certainty (and love): guys, please, if you think you have a spirit child and you are the equivalent to the modern-day Virgin Mary, please walk yourself into the nearest ER.

I was obsessed with conservative, right-wing beliefs to the point where it was the only media I consumed. This was also in-part because I grew up on military bases, but most definitely worsened during my psychosis.

I believed I was more important than others to God, my life had more value.

I could go on, but I think these bullets sum up my experience pretty well.

How I recovered and realized my spiritual psychosis episode, and what that looked like.

This is where it can get extremely dangerous! I was lucky enough to have my driving factor as a medication, but that was not the sole influence.

I kid you not: I woke up one morning after switching meds, realized that it was literally all in my head, and entered the worst depressive episode I've ever had in my life, to this day. I was unable to sleep from paranoia, struggled eating, would refuse to talk to my parents, and was terrified of anything to even remotely do with religion. It got to the point where I was, quite literally, on my death bed. The only thing that saved me was going into therapy and establishing connections, getting diagnosed with OCD, and ultimately, aging and maturing.

The story of my recovery is a much, much longer road with unrelated events, so I won't go into that. But I will emphasize that this event almost caused me my life on a few occasions, and led to a multi-year journey to reexplore spirituality, morality, and religion. It took me years upon years to recover, and I believe that I did the right thing: if you ever have spiritual psychosis, take a step back for awhile and evaluate first what caused the psychosis, what your symptoms were, and identify your coping strategies and networks to avoid the situation reoccurring in the future.

Spiritual psychosis is dangerous, it's scary, and it's not talked enough in pagan communities. I think my end-all advice for this post would be just that above: be aware, be educated, and be monitored by a medical team. If you are ever hearing things you don't want to hear, thinking your gods are upset at you (they're not, I promise), experiencing mania or depressive symptoms, please please please speak to a medical professional or something you love and trust.

Today, I am an eclectic Hellenic/Norse pagan with spirit guides and gods who I have boundaries with. My healthy spiritual practice looks like being grounded in my body, in nature, my friends around me, my family, and most importantly, maintaining good mental health. It includes working a job I love, telling stories of nature to others (I'm a tour guide/naturalist), and writing. I go to therapy weekly, I'm medicated, and I actively take steps to heal and recognize how my psychosis impacted both my spirituality, religion, and path. Recovery is possible. You are never alone.

I'm more than happy to open conversation about this topic and answer any questions! Please also feel free to correct me on anything I said.

I'm hoping this helps someone who needs to hear it, spreads awareness, and most importantly, promotes healthy religious practice. I'd like to thank my deities (Loki and Aphrodite) for encouraging me to make this post and speak up about my experience <3 It's always wonderful to have a spiritual team that is truly on my side.

Blessed be, my friends! Stay happy and healthy!

[beemovieerotica]

hey can you tell me how you got tested for OCD and/or started to think you had it?

yeeeess so it was literally 2018 when i was like "hm maybe i have OCD" to my therapist (who was not specialized in this) and she did not disagree with me and everything kind of clicked in that session between us when we both simultaneously realized a lot of my behaviors could be explained that way.

the hardest thing was that i'd already been diagnosed with generalized anxiety so like. "yes i obsess over conversations i've had or will have and repeat things over and over in my head" "yes i constantly check to make sure things are okay" "yes i hyperanalyze and hypercriticize myself" all got wrapped up in that.

i think the behavior that i actually brought up with that therapist that precipitated the realization was i started vacuuming a corner of my room repeatedly like over the course of several weeks, every day. just obsessively vacuuming this corner because i kept finding tiny cat litter crystals there from a previous tenant. i'd be literally picking it out of the carpet with my fingers with my head parallel to the floor just staring and trying to find these things for like an hour at a time. colossal waste of time. but it was "important." and i was finally like...THIS is excessive, right?

but i do a lot of things that are the opposite of "classic" OCD which confused me for YEARS - like i genuinely have such poor food hygiene and don't care about bodily fluids, i love touching sticky things, my personal things are poorly organized, my room was always a mess, etc etc.

i got officially evaluated when i went in for the psilocybin study (beginning of this year) where i met an OCD specialist for the first time who did this complete battery of questions with me. there were things i never realized were OCD for me:

very obsessed with parasitic insects and constantly checking for bedbugs and fleas even when i have no reason to suspect these things

constantly re-reading everything i write. 5x. 10x. saying whole sentences over and over in my head. the sentence is fine, i didn't make a mistake, but i just have to keep reading it to be 1000% sure.

rubbing my scalp a lot and pulling out random hairs on my legs, eyebrows, eyelashes

over-explaining so fucking much to be absolutely sure i'm not misunderstood or that someone can read bad intentions into what i'm saying. "predicting" conversations and anticipating entire lines of questioning and how i would defend myself. lol.

intrusive horror film-esque thoughts

being terrified as a child that i would be possessed by a demon if i yawned too wide - i had other extremely irrational superstitions that i would force on myself and try to live by for no reason, these started at like age 10

obsessions around my health (orthorexia, i've ping-ponged between various diets like vegan / gluten-free / vegetarian thinking that it would help me)

only ever felt normal when drinking. like i could just let go of the compulsions and anxiety while drunk.

it was really hard to even parse a lot of this out being 1) already anxious, 2) raised very religious, and 3) BOTH my parents and my older sister have OCD, so all this was just normal!! my mom also pulled out her hair. my mom and my sister also had eating disorders and very weird attitudes around medicine. superstitions and moral scrupulosity were encouraged in our community. i had no reason to think that any of this could all be linked back to an actual disorder.

i really wish i'd had intervention at least a decade or more earlier. this started when i was in grade school at least. it sucks. so much of the public perception of OCD is centered on the classic symmetry / cleanliness / hand-washing shit. it did not help that my family loved watching Monk when i was growing up so i was like "oh, i'm not like THAT" and never questioned it.

i think(?) i might go to the big OCD conference happening in the states next year, not sure, but i really want to talk to people about psilocybin. idk let me know if you have any other questions, i'm still processing a lot of this.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable Part 3-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: AAAH, thank you for all the support on this. I didn't think it'd be a series but I can't stop writing.

Warnings: toxic parents, body shaming, eating disorders, alcohol abuse, and swearing

Words: 7.7k

Series Masterlist

 “…and that’s how I knew that I was meant to do charity work,” the nasal redhead concluded.

That afternoon, the Si Chi house was packed with pledges in floral or puffy Selkie and Miss Selfridge sun dresses. A handful of servers circulated the foyer with trays of orange juice and mimosas. The combination of Prada Candy and Viktor Rolfe Flowerbomb made my head spin but I smiled through it as I nodded at different pledges’ stories. All of them were desperately trying to toe the line between interesting and bragging because one could never act too important for a potential house.

“That’s great news,” I glanced at her name tag, “Brenda since Si Chi regularly engages in philanthropic work.”

 Brenda smiled widely, making the hot pink blush on her cheeks even more prominent. “I know, that’s why I’m so interested in joining this---your house.”

“Well, we are glad that you took the time to visit us. Would you excuse me?”

As I weaved my way through the foyer, I plucked a mimosa from a passing server and started sipping. Exactly five seconds passed until I was surrounded by a new crop of bright-eyed freshmen.

“Oh my gosh, are you Y/N Y/L/N?” a willowy brunette asked.

“Guilty, and you are?”

“She’s Justine,” a shorter brunette interrupted.

Justine narrowed her eyes and thinly covered the glare with a smile. “I can introduce myself, thanks, Renee.”

Renee shrunk a little in her oversized light blue sundress and I glanced at Justine.

“So, why are you interested in our house?” I asked.

Justine straightened up and smiled like a pageant girl. “Well, I’m perfectly aligned with all the values of Si Chi: Sisterhood, respect, and intelligence. I am all about women empowerment and I respect people from all backgrounds----I’m exposed to a bunch of different people as an actress, anyway.”

“What about intelligence?”

“Well, I think there’s many different kinds of intelligence and, as an actress, I’m emotionally intelligent to the point where I’m exhausted by everyone else’s energy.”

“She really has to prioritize self-care,” Renee added.

“It’s great that you’re aware of that for yourself.”

She had to be one of the least self-aware people I ever encountered and that was a difficult fete. However, her socials had decent numbers and she had been in a few Vought Plus movies, which would help her win Sydney and Lydia, the vice president, over. The next two years with her and her friend would be irritating.

A softer expression slipped across Justine’s face, and she took a step towards me. “I just want to say that I think it’s so brave that you’ve been participating in all the rush events despite your traumatic experience. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see Luke,” she paused and placed a hand on her chest, “kill himself.”

Though it had been a week since, it still felt like a bomb rolled off Justine’s tongue when she said it. The wave of emotions that I experienced in that time was hard to describe; Shetty said that grief was a rollercoaster, and the influx of emotions was normal.

“As impossible as it may seem, one day you will come to accept what happened,” she’d advised. “You may experience more anxiety but, with your network, I am sure you will be able to cope.”

The network she referred to was strained at best and destroyed at worst. My “sisters” were as supportive as they could be: Alina gave me a Lush self-care kit, Sasha was not nearly as antagonizing as usual, Lydia gave me grief book recommendations, and Sydney let me pick what workout classes we attended. Emma and Cate were the only non-Si Chi people I spoke to since it was way too difficult to speak to the others.

Justine placed her hand on my shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can count on me.”

“Thank you for the thought,” I replied, smiling tightly.

“You must be so grateful that Marie was there to stop him,” Renee quipped.

I sipped some more juice to keep the confusing feelings from bubbling up. Nothing could have prepared me for Marie and Andre being propped as the Guardians of Godolkin, which was arguably the dumbest name Vought could give them. The less I wanted to see them, the more I saw their promos and videos. It was horrible that the last time we spoke we had a fight but every time I saw her, I felt a weird wrench in my chest.

At the very least, Emma seemed happy for her.

Then, Coco Allen, a Si Chi junior, appeared from the crowd and squeezed between the freshmen. “There you are, Y/N, I have a crim freshman with a water manipulation ability who wants to pick your brain.”

“Sure. Will you excuse me?”

“Bye!” Renee called as Coco pulled me through the crowd.

When we got to the less populated living room, I exhaled a breath I did not know I was holding. Then, I turned to the beaming Coco.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. You know I hate entitled freshmen,” Coco mused.

Coco was the only other black girl in Si Chi and happened to be the first one to talk to me when I visited the house last year. She was a little shorter than me with deep mahogany skin that always glowed. She always wore her waist-length jet-black hair in tight curls and accessorized solely with gold jewelry. That day, she wore a fitted white sundress with espadrilles.

“Were there this many last year?” I asked.

Coco shook her head. “But there are a few more black girls so it’s promising.”

“That’s great! I hope I can find them before the event’s over.”

“That would be great.” Coco eyed me. “So, how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, the mimosas don’t hurt though.”

“They never do. You didn’t have to come today, you know, you could have taken more time, get out of here for a minute.”

I shook my head. “I needed this, it’s a nice distraction or, it has been. Besides, what would it look like if the secretary didn’t attend?”

Coco nodded slowly but I could tell that the gears in her head were turning too much for her to be convinced. “You’re already Sydney and Lydia’s favorite and they might have let it slide.”

I cocked my head at her and she immediately started chuckling half-heartedly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. The hoops they make us jump through are ridiculous,” Coco reflected.

“It makes sense why you didn’t want to be an officer even though you’re poli sci,” I commented.

Coco grinned. “Hey, I’m making decent connections just by being in this house. This is just a steppingstone on my path to become the first black woman supe president.”

Even though the title was long, if anyone could do it, it was Coco. One time last year I sat in on one of her debates in class and she had a senior in tears and their debate partner ready to put their laser eyes to good use.

“Well, don’t forget little ole me when you’re a big shot,” I teased.

Coco frowned. “What do you mean ‘little’? You have done too much to talk like that.”

I shrugged. “Not that they’re not as important but my four-year plan is less impressive than yours.”

“Oh yeah, the plan where you basically end up a trophy wife? No shade but, I think you’d be way too bored in that role.”

“Hey, I would have a city contract too. Plus, it’s what I want and what I see for myself every time I look into the future. Every step I have taken up until this point puts me closer to that.”

My voice was much stronger than I thought it would be but Coco was always pushing me. Some days it was motivating and on others, it was infuriating.

“Like I said, I’m not trying to crush your dreams or your plan but is that really all you want for yourself? Especially thinking about all the good you’re already doing with your powers?” Coco questioned.

Her words plagued me for the rest of the event and bugged me when we gave our ratings of the pledges to Sydney and Lydia.

“Oh, and Y/N, don’t forget to send me that compilation with all the pledges’ socials,” Sydney requested as I was on my way out of the foyer.

“Of course, you’ll have it by the end of the day.”

Everything was much quieter underwater, except for my thoughts, but those were much clearer. Every time I thought about where I would be in five years, it was the same: smiling at a city event on the arm of some suit. I never saw the man’s face but I knew he had to be somewhat attractive. My eyes fluttered closed at the bottom of the pool and I focused on my future.

It was the same image, complete with flashing cameras and I was wearing a gorgeous rose pink Oscar de la Renta gown. My hair was piled on top of my head in Senegalese twists, and I was smiling widely. However, when I tried to look at whose arm I was on, it was like I could not turn my head. The harder I tried, the sorer the side of my neck got.

After a few more seconds of trying, I pushed myself up to the surface and sucked in the air. The sky was a mix of orange, purple, and blue. Sydney was blasting “My Head, My Heart”, which signaled that she was getting ready to go out with Eric Landon, the president of Sigma Kappa. It would be nice to be asked on a date, a proper one without the expectations of sex later.

My face warmed at the fact that I had never actually been asked out. People constantly told me how good looking I was but that did not translate into boys falling all over themselves for me. There were the occasional fun nights out but it would always end in that same venue. I didn’t think I asked for too much: flowers, good morning and good night texts, respect, intelligence, and ambition. Emma told me I watched too many movies once and while that could have been true, I also thought that it wasn’t too much to ask a guy to hold a door open.

It also did not help that Jordan was the last person I ever got close to being intimate with. I groaned at the thought and dove underwater, making my way to the other side of the pool.

An almost-kiss should mean absolutely nothing but I could not stop thinking about it, just like I could not stop thinking about how Jordan would throw me under the bus to save themselves. I would never do that to anyone, especially not someone I cared about.

But you already did, the voice in my head hissed.

Marie didn’t count, I didn’t mean to do that; Andre, Luke, Cate, and Jordan decided for me. I would have stayed if it was my choice but that didn’t matter to Marie or any of them.

I pushed myself from the side of the pool and butterfly stroked my way to the other side. Thankfully, the water was heated and soothed my aching muscles. As I was about to resurface, I noted a blurry tall blonde figure standing above me. When I pushed up, Cate stood over me, her eyes worried.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hi, can we talk?”

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, I was wrapped in a fluffy towel and standing across from Cate. Her eyes shifted around for a moment before she suggested we headed inside. When we got to my room, she immediately closed the door behind us.

“Is there any way someone would have listening devices in here?” Cate asked.

“No,” I said slowly.

“Are you sure? There’s shit out now where they put it in the tiniest crevices and you would never know,” Cate argued.

“I would have seen it or had a hint about it. What’s going on?”

Cate finally sat on my bed, and I opted to stand across from her. “Andre and I found some stuff that makes Luke and Brink’s deaths way more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, they totally cleared out his room the day after he died and I mean everything.”

My eyes widened. “Even the…special drawer?”

“Yes, and at first, I thought it was protocol but what would they do with all those----”

“I get it, Cate, what else did you and Andre find?”

As Cate continued to speak, I could feel my stomach sink further and further, until I was sure it was somewhere in the house basement. Nothing Cate said meant anything positive for anyone. If there was some kind of lab under us, that meant anyone could become a part of it.

“Have you told anyone else?” I asked.

Cate huffed and leaned back on my bed. “Well, Jordan’s been spiraling about Marie and the rankings, so I can’t get a word in about anything else.”

“They’re spiraling?” I asked.

“You haven’t talked to them since Luke died?” Cate asked.

When she said it like that, it sounded like I committed a cardinal sin. After that day, there was nothing else for me to say to them. Even though I saw them in class occasionally, I never spoke to them and desperately tried to avoid eye contact.

“They could have reached out too,” I muttered.

“You’re such a younger sibling,” Cate commented.

“It’s true!” I whined.

“Well, they’ve been freaking out about the rankings since they fell down to number five and Andre’s number one.”

Being in the Top Five was like Jordan’s lifeline. They’d always shared a friendly rivalry with Luke but I knew they wanted to be number one eventually. They spent almost all their time making sure they stayed in a high position and to drop to bottom of the Top Five must have been devastating.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Yeah, and your new best friend cracked the Top 100 and is Jordan’s new nemesis,” Cate added.

 I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a chocolate brown loungewear set. “Neither of them are my friends.”

Cate frowned. “Seriously, what is going on with you? The other night, you and Marie were inseparable, and you and Jordan were bantering. What happened?”

It must have been the fact that I was holding all my thoughts and feelings in because I burst.

“Marie and I can’t be friends since she thinks I’m a shallow bitch who would sacrifice her to save myself because I hang out with people who do. The funny part is that Jordan admitted they would backstab me if they could get ahead, which is definitely not something I would do to a friend or anyone I almost kissed!”

I was panting by the end and my chest felt a lot lighter. However, my nerves began to build when I noticed Cate’s mischievous grin.

“Who did you almost kiss?” Cate asked.

“That’s not the point,” I mumbled.

Cate stared at me for a second before lighting up. “It was Jordan, wasn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You hesitated which means I’m right. It could have easily been Marie though since you were all over her.”

“Why do people keep saying that? I was being nice!”

Cate held up her hands in a relaxed defense. “Chill, Y/N, it’s okay to like more than one person at once.”

“I don’t like either of them.”

“At all?” Cate quirked an eyebrow.

“No,” I pouted.

Cate looked unimpressed and I felt even more unimpressed since I knew that I liked Marie and Jordan platonically.

“Okay, we’ll save that for later but, I don’t think Jordan would tell you that they would backstab you and they would not think about it. They would do it to other people, but not you.”

“You’re just saying that because they’re your friend and you weren’t there.”

Cate cocked her head to the side. “Think, Y/N, did Jordan really say, ‘I would backstab you if it would save my ass’?”

As I recalled the memory, I slowly rocked back and forth on my heels. “They didn’t say that but, they didn’t answer me when I asked if they would.” “You probably caught them off guard,” Cate reasoned. “I’m sure if you talked to them, things would go okay.”

I hesitated and set my clothes on my bed. “Let’s say that I decided to speak to them, I don’t know what to say. Even if I did, my class tomorrow isn’t with them.

“You’re not going to the Think Brink gala tomorrow night?” Cate asked.

Earlier that day, Mom mentioned something about a gala on the phone but I was only half-listening. In my defense, there was only so much complaining about her clients and Dad that I could stand. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and “Go to Brink gala” was in bright letters on my calendar.

“I guess I am,” I concluded.

“Then, you have some time to figure it out. You might get lucky and not even have to say anything.” I nodded and messed with the charm on my phone. “But what about Marie?”

“You’ll figure that out too. Indira’s taking her to the gala so, you can get both your ‘friends’ back,” Cate said, putting “friends” in air quotes.

“Why did you do it like that? Don’t say it like that.”

“Just because you’re in denial doesn’t mean I am. Think about it, would you be this freaked out if we had a fight?”

The “yes” should have come immediately but it didn’t; it died in my throat, and I couldn’t look at Cate. Why were things different with Marie and Jordan? Why did I stress out about them when I tried to stop thinking about them?

“Can you just make me say the right thing?” I asked.

Cate mulled it over for a moment. “I think it’s best if you do it yourself. If you don’t have a vision about it, something will come to you.”

“Thanks, Cate. If you and Andre need any help snooping----”

“You will be the first person I text,” Cate assured.

“I was going to say that I’ll probably know before you.”

I narrowly avoided the pillow Cate tossed at me and laughed at her effort.

“Maybe you are getting a little too cocky, Y/N.” She stood and walked over to me. “And for the record, I would never betray you in any way, neither would Andre or Jordan. If either of them did, they would have to deal with me.”

“Thanks, I would hug you but I’m still soaking wet.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. I know this might be useless but try not to worry about everything.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You’re taking the meds from Indira?”

“Yes, Mom,” I teased.

“Just trying to help.”

Strangely, that was the first night since Luke’s death that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The trend was that I would strain myself to have premonitions until I was exhausted and tried again in the morning. For once, sleep found me quickly.

After sitting through a two-hour lecture on trauma’s impact on villains and heroes, I was more than happy to wander back to the Si Chi house and decompress. In a few hours, Talia, Mom’s assistant, would arrive with options for the gala. Then, the glam team would arrive and do their best to ignore Mom while they did their jobs.

I needed all the relaxation I could get.

 As I was mentally reviewing which movies I could watch, my phone kept buzzing in my back pocket. I thought it was another flurry of comments on the TikTok Coco and I made yesterday but it was from a strange number.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Y/N, pls come 2 my dorm, it’s an emergency.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Im srry we haven’t talked in a while but it’s important.

I frowned and typed back, ????

XXX-XXX-XXXX: It’s Marie. Emma’s in trouble.

My stomach dropped and I replied, B there soon.

As I raced around other people on campus, my thoughts moved faster at the possibility of what could have been going on with Emma. The last time I had spoken to her was two days ago and she was okay then. If anything, she may have been tense because Marie and I were not speaking but she had not said anything else.

I was halfway to their dorm when I ran into something solid.

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N,” Maverick sneered.

“If you put on some clothes, maybe I’d see you,” I shot back as I continued down the hall.

When I finally got to their dorm, I was panting and could barely knock. Marie pulled the door open, pulled me in, and closed the door behind me.

“Did you sprint here?” she asked.

I nodded. “You said…it was…an….emergency…Emma.”

In the middle of me grabbing my bearings, I noticed something tiny next to one of the supports on Emma’s bed. Slowly, I slid to my knees and crawled over to it. When I realized who it was, a choked gasp escaped my mouth.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. She was like that when I got here and I didn’t know what to do so I called you since you’ve known her the longest,” Marie rambled.

Her words barely registered in my brain as I went to one of Emma’s drawers, grabbed a small set of clothes, wrapped her in it, and carefully set her on her bed. Emma was barely breathing and was ghostly pale.

“Emma, I know you’re probably not going to like this but, you’re going to need to eat something.”

She didn’t reply and for a second, I wondered if she could.

I started rifling through all her stuff until I found a box of crackers. My hands trembled as I broke them into small pieces and kneeled in front of Emma. She never looked at me as she nibbled on each crumb I fed her.

Eventually, she grew back to her normal size. As soon as she was, she pulled her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry you saw me like that,” she muttered.

Slowly, I sat next to her and it was almost the same way zookeepers treated wild animals. If one moved calmly enough, they would not get attacked. Marie sat on her bed.

“It’s okay, I’m glad we were able to help,” I replied. “What happened?”

Emma sniffed. “I opened up to this girl in my class. We’re scene partners for a project and we were talking, and I guess I felt comfortable enough to tell her about how I get small. I thought it was just between us, but she posted this…this video on YouTube telling the whole world about it.”

“Who’s the girl?” Marie asked.

“How do you get small?” I uttered at the same time.

Emma froze for a moment and looked away from me. “I make myself…sick.”

When she said it, I suddenly remembered all those times she would go to the bathroom and then come out a miniature version of herself. However, all those times, it was for different commercials or other work-related events. Then again, there had to be times when she did it at home or at my house.

How did I never notice? “Emma, I’m so sorry. I wish you would’ve told me sooner,” I said.

Emma turned to me with a glare in her eyes. “Really? How would I work that into a conversation? ‘Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt but, I make myself throw up to get small’?”.

“We’re friends, friends tell each other this kind of thing,” I insisted.

Emma scoffed. “Please, like you would get it if I told you. You’re perfect, you always have been. Your face, your hair, your body, your eyes, your life!”

“That’s not fair.”

“Emma, I think you need to get help,” Marie interrupted.

Emma’s gaze flickered to hers and I thought she might set Marie on fire. “I need to get help, that’s rich coming from you. You act like no one can see your scars.”

Marie flinched and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I do that for my powers, that’s different.”

Emma laughed callously. “Please, at least be honest. How about this: I’ll go to therapy when you admit to cutting.”

Emma’s voice had no tone and every word she said was like a hammer slamming into my chest. She wasn’t in the right headspace for any conversation and I kept reminding myself as I stood.

“We should talk later when we’ve all calmed down,” I suggested.

“I don’t want to speak to either of you again,” she hissed.

It took more effort than usual to swallow the lump in my throat as I let myself out of their dorm. Just as I was about to lean against the door and wallow, Marie slipped out behind me and shut the door. I took a step back, barely avoiding a pair of girls rushing past.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“It’s fine.”

Silence filled the space for a moment, and I had no idea how to fill it. Cate said I would know what to say but I was at a loss.

“I’m sorry about what I said…that day,” Marie delivered gently.

My eyes snapped up at her. “Oh.”

She sighed. “I was just angry, and I thought you were a part of it but, Emma kept saying that you would never do something like that. I just didn’t know how to reach out or say anything.”

I know the feeling.

“I accept your apology but I’m also sorry that no one came back for you. I guess it worked out, though?”

Marie sighed and leaned against her door. “Sort of. The perks are nice and I’m in crim now but I feel like everyone’s looking at me and expects something from me; almost like they’re waiting for me to fail.”

“Really? They had me convinced you’d be the black Starlight,” I teased.

Marie laughed half-heartedly. “I still want to be a hero, though, someone like her people can look up to.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Marie hesitated. “My little sister. We were both obsessed with heroes when we were younger, but I was the one who got Compound V. She always looked up to me and I want to be someone who would make her proud.”

“That’s a really admirable goal,” I complimented.

She smiled softly. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be my competition to be the black Starlight?”

My expression faltered and I looked down at my French acrylics. “No, I don’t think I have the showmanship you do. Besides, my goal isn’t to be in the Seven.”

“Really? What do you want to do?” Marie asked.

“So, I have this four year plan and if I follow the steps I am on to a T, I will graduate with a city contract and be engaged to an eligible supe.”

Usually, when I told someone my four year plan, my chest swelled and my shoulders rolled back unconsciously. This time, it felt like I was a toddler showing my mom a drawing I made in school.

“Is that it?” Marie asked.

“I know it’s more traditional and maybe even a little lame but, it’s what I want,” I maintained.

Marie nodded slowly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just imagined you doing something in, like, criminal AI or stopping criminals from re-offending.”

“Both are great, they’re just not me.”

“Which is fine,” Marie insisted.

She sounded a little too eager but I let it go as we started walking down the hallway.

“What should we do about Emma?” Marie asked.

“I’ve never seen her like that before but she’ll need time to cool off.”

“Sounds good, I just have nowhere to go until the gala tonight.”

“You could come to Si Chi for a bit. I can’t promise they won’t try to initiate you, though.”

Marie laughed. “Me, in a sorority?”

“Hey, we’re getting more black girls this year so you never know!”

“Whatever but, yeah, I’d like to hang out with you…at your house.”

Even though Marie rushed the last part, a smile quirked on the corners of my mouth. It would be nice to have a new friend over and it was even nicer that there was no more tension between us.

“You know, Emma never told us the name of that girl,” Marie pondered once we got outside.

“Oh, that’s easy.” I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I reached the right one.

Shelby answered on the first ring. “Y/N, hi!” “Hey, are you on your way to class?” I asked.

“Yeah, if I’m late one more time, Professor Elix is going to make me do an improv one-woman show!” she panted.

“Well, I don’t want to slow you down but, you have class with Emma Meyer, right?”

“Oh yeah, Intro to Stage, why?”

“Cool. She told me her stage partner has an incredible Insta aesthetic, but she never told me her name and I need new inspo.”

“Oh, that’s Justine. I don’t know her last name but I’m sure you’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Shelby. Have fun in class.”

“Thanks!”

I hung up and turned to Marie, whose eyebrows were raised. “What?”

“What was that voice?” Marie asked.

“It was my voice. Haven’t you heard of code-switching?”

“Fine. Did you get the name?”

“Yes, Justine and I’ve met her.”

“What? How?”

“She’s rushing Si Chi.” I couldn’t keep the devilish smile from working its way into my mouth.

“What does that look mean?” Marie asked.

“It means that there are many more perks to being in a top house besides living in it.”

For some reason, everyone thinks that white girls have a monopoly on passive aggression and relational aggression. That was not the case at all; black girls simply are more inclined towards active aggression but we’re capable of both. I proved as much during Brink’s gala.

The ballroom was packed with board members, trustees, alumni, and the wealthiest GOD U students, the latter being my target of interest. They were all easy to approach since I had met them at some function or another.

“Y/N,” Bianca Peterson gushed as she hugged me.

Her Gucci Guilty perfume tickled my nose and I willed myself not to sneeze as I politely pulled away from her. “Bianca, it’s been too long. I think the last time I saw you was at Beta Ro’s Brunch for Boy Scouts.”

Bianca nodded, light auburn curls bouncing around her sculpted features. “Yes, we bonded over jewelry.”

“And you still have fantastic taste,” I mentioned, gesturing to the gold buckle around her wrist.

“Thank you, it was a present from Theo but I gave him a few hints,” she bragged lightly.

“How is rush going?” I asked.

“Pretty well, our pledges are shaping up nicely this year, not that they don’t every year,” she quickly added the last part.

“Of course. Do you have a lot of girls from Counting?”

“We’re interested in a couple, why? Are you trying to poach?”

I shook my head. “Not at all, I just wasn’t sure if you heard what Layla from Zeta Nu discovered.”

Bianca raised a microbladed brow. “No, I don’t think I have.”

I took a deep inhale and slowly shook my head in disbelief. “Oh, well, I should let it come from her then.”

A moment later, Bianca glanced across the room at Layla Ruthers, the president of Zeta Nu, who was smiling politely at a pair of hunched-over old men.

“In case I don’t have a chance to talk to her, what happened?” Bianca asked.

I glanced around us for a moment before leaning closer. “Apparently, a freshman posted a video about another girl’s eating disorder.”

“Really?” Bianca’s eyes widened.

I nodded. “Layla was insulted for the other girl and banned the pledge from rushing Zeta Nu. She even said that no respectable house would accept someone so low-class.”

“Oh,” Bianca uttered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up all your time. I should go mingle.”

I made it about two steps before Bianca gently grabbed one of my arms.

“Wait, Y/N. Did Layla say the name of the pledge?”

My eyes wandered around the twinkling lights of the room for a second. “Justine something, I think.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure!”

The rest of my conversations followed that pattern. Each girl I spoke to was shocked and horrified by my words. Plus, none of them would dare speak to the other; that would mean another house had better information than them. My final target was easily the most important one: Sydney.

In her ice-blue mermaid dress and intricate updo, she looked more like Cinderella than a gala attendee. She was standing at a table, nodding her head at something a shorter guy was saying.

“Excuse me,” I politely interrupted, “I need to borrow Sydney for a second.”

The guy deflated slightly. “Sure.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Sydney huffed a sigh of relief as soon as we were out of earshot. “Thank you, I don’t know what he was even talking about.”

“Anytime,” I replied.

She snatched a champagne flute from a passing server and downed half of it. “I can’t wait for this night to be over.”

I nodded. “It is morbid despite their attempt to dress it up.”

“Yeah, and my parents won’t stop bugging me about my future. I can only apply to so many internships and not everyone is looking for a telekinetic,” she griped. “Sorry, how are you?”

“I’m alright. Ironically, I think he’d hate the name they picked but I didn’t know him super well,” I admitted.

“Right.”

Here it goes.

“So, I think the event the other day was a success,” I commented.

“Definitely. The house was packed. It’s too bad we can’t accept them all.”

Sydney smiled as she spoke.

“I know. It’s great that there’s so much interest.” I paused for a second. “But, I wanted to tell you that something came up with one of the pledges.”

Sydney gestured for me to continue.

“Even though my social media deep dive on the pledges was thorough, something came up today that I thought you should know when considering the pledges,” I explained.

“Okay.”

“Today, Justine posted a video exposing another girl’s eating disorder. Several of the girls were upset when they saw it.”

“That’s awful,” Sydney responded.

“It’s also so disappointing since I met Justine during that event, and she was saying how women empowerment is important to her. I know that women empowerment is a huge passion for you and a foundation for Si Chi and to imagine a pledge so willing to tear down another woman infiltrating the safe space you building is horrifying.”

Despite the liquor, I could tell Sydney was processing my words quicker than any computer. Her expression shifted from shock to anger to coldness. Then, she finished the last of her champagne and set it on the table closest to us. “Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

As she walked away, I grinned widely at the response. Bid Day was going to be even more fun and interesting than last year. To celebrate, I grabbed myself a flute of champagne and sipped it as I started to wander the room.

“Y/N!”

My body froze at the masculine voice and my mind raced with what to say or do. Finally, I decided to face Jordan. They were in their masculine form and standing at a table by themselves. Though they looked fantastic in their navy suit, they looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

“Hello.”

I practically sang it and prayed for someone to make the floor swallow me.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Um, sure.” I walked closer to their table and rested my forearms on it.

 “It’s good to see you,” he started. “Outside of class, I mean.”

“You too.”

Jordan nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s good.” He paused. “I’m sorry about everything.”

I looked up from tapping my nails on the tablecloth. “Wh---”

“Please, let me finish. That day…I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you that I wouldn’t throw you under the bus but I wouldn’t even think about it. How could I do that to my little freshman?”

For the first time ever, my chest warmed at the nickname. However, I tried to bite back the smile that was worming its way onto my face.

I glanced away for a moment, crossing my arms over my purple sleeveless satin gown. “Well, I guess I forgive you,” I playfully grumbled before turning back to him. “But you still did it pretty easily to Marie.”

Jordan’s expression faltered and he sipped some champagne. “Don’t mention her.”

“Why not? She’s my friend and we did a very mean thing,” I argued.

“Look, I protected myself and you that night, I won’t apologize for that. Besides, she’s still here and she’s doing great,” he spat.

“I know you’re pissed about the rankings but, those can change, especially with how hard you work and how powerful you are.”

Jordan scoffed. “That’s how it should work but no one wants to back a bigender Asian.”

His words made me stop for a second. In all the time I knew them, Jordan seemed invincible to punches, laser beams, electric shocks, and words. They made succeeding at Godolkin look so easy but it must have been anything but. Plus, Luke and Brink’s death must have impacted everything else.

“We’ll see about that,” I challenged. “There’s about thirty trustees and every board member in this room. There will have to be a few who will like you.”

Jordan hesitated. “I’m not really in the mood to promote myself.”

“Then let me talk,” I offered.

He eyed me for a while before crossing over to my side of the table and looping one of his arms with mine. “Don’t make me look bad, freshie.”

“I think that’s impossible.”

The first target was easy: a thirtysomething white guy with floppy light brown hair and an oversized gray suit. I focused on him for a moment, gathering as much information as I could.

“Trevor Emerson, GOD U alum and old money beneficiary,” I muttered to Jordan.

“Isn’t he supposed to hate me?” Jordan hissed back.

“He’s overcome by white guilt since his recent discovery that all the black and brown people who built and managed his family’s manor were not salaried employees,” I explained. “He’s dying to look as much of an ally as possible.”

Jordan straightened up. “Good job, freshie.”

“I haven’t even gotten started.” I painted a polite smile on my face. “Mr. Emerson, it’s so nice to meet you, can we bother you for a moment?”

Two guilty and three haughty donors later, Jordan and I found ourselves at a different table. It was the first time that I saw him smile that night.

“You were amazing out there,” Jordan exclaimed.

“Thank you but you also made my job a little easier being talented and whatever,” I joked.

“Seriously.” Jordan grabbed my hand. “You might have saved my ass.”

I tried to ignore the tingle that shot up from my hand into the side of my neck. “It’s okay, I’m happy to help.”

When they announced that the video was about to start Jordan sulked again. “I can’t believe they’re making us sit through this shit.”

“Me neither.” I rest my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner but, are you okay?”

Jordan laughed humorlessly. “No but schmoozing with you did help a little. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

When we parted our separate ways, I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress skirt and approached my table. Fortunately, Mom and Dad had not burned down the ballroom with their arguing. In fact, when I got to their table, Mom was on her phone and Dad was rhythmically tapping his fingers against the tablecloth, looking anywhere but her.

“Hi, were you bored with me gone?” I asked, giving Dad a side hug.

“Not at all. I met a few board members and sold a few pictures,” he responded.

I nodded and slowly took the middle seat between them. The video was equal parts patronizing and infuriating. However, my parents’ whispers kept me from focusing too much on the video.

“Y/M/N, can you get off the phone for one second? They’re playing the video,” Dad hissed.

“I am about to cut the biggest deal of this quarter. They can send it,” Mom hissed back, waving a manicured hand for emphasis.

“Mom, people are starting to stare,” I quietly interjected.

“Let them stare. This is what’s paying for you to be here.”

“Don’t act like I don’t contribute!” Their words used to make me flinch but I forced myself to sit up straighter and breathe.

“I’m grateful for it, for both of you, really. You both paid to be here and I thought you would not want to miss the man they’re honoring,” I whispered.

Those words made Mom slowly mutter something into the phone before placing it face down on the table and leaning forward. At that same time, they flashed a picture of Brink and me across the screen. He had been meeting with my small group when the photographer appeared.

Dad squeezed an arm around my shoulder and I softly leaned into his touch.

“Thank God you lost that baby fat,” Mom commented.

“Y/M/N,” Dad said quietly.

“You know it’s true, Y/D/N,” Mom hissed back.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm felt like a boa constrictor, and I gracefully slipped out of its grasp. When the video ended, I drank a fresh flute of champagne. The bubbles instantly went to my head as I giggled at Dean Shetty introducing Marie.

She looked really pretty even though she was nervous.

“Do you know her?” Mom asked over the applause.

“We’re friends,” I replied.

“So why is she a guardian and not you?”

“She was more involved in stopping Luke than me,” I lied.

 When Dean Shetty cued everyone to return to socializing, Mom turned to me.

“Your grades are fantastic and your standing in your house is good,” Mom began. “But eligible bachelors will not notice you unless you stand out like her.”

“Y/M/N, leave her alone. Anyone who doesn’t notice Y/N isn’t worthy of being in our family anyway,” Dad defended.

Mom ignored him. “That girl, Marie Moreau, is not your friend, she is your competition. You are in the prime setting to have everything you’ve ever wanted but she could snatch it from you. You’re supposed to be able to see things like this coming, Y/N.”

“I do see things coming and I know Marie wouldn’t do that to me,” I quipped.

At that moment, Mom���s eyes bore so deep into me that I didn’t think that anyone could claw them out. Her eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head at any moment and I could feel my breathing pick up.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” I promised.

It felt like forever until she leaned back in her seat and grabbed her phone.

“Make sure it doesn’t ‘slip out’ again. Now go socialize.”

“I need a minute, Mom, I’ve been socializing since we got here.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “This again.”

“What?”

“Y/M/N, please.”

“No, no, Y/D/N, she is constantly using, what, anxiety to get out of speaking to people. You are always too soft on her and make me look like the bad guy. I’m the one helping her be normal,” Mom snapped. “Anxiety didn’t exist when we were her age, we just did what we had to do, and look where we are now.”

I wondered if Emma ever felt as small as I did in that moment. Then, I wondered if she ever made herself small to hide from people, even her mom. Wordlessly, I left the table and tried to avoid any cameras as the tears burned in the corners of my eyes.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm my trembling chest and keep my throat busy. My chest shifted from trembling to heavy and I started looking around the room.

“I hear one piano…feel two fingers…smell three different alcohols…and see---”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Cate’s voice broke me out of my rhythm and I glanced to see her sitting with Marie and Jordan, who was in their feminine form.

My chest felt much lighter and I quickly wiped away my tears. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Jordan called gently.

Cate pulled me into a hug and had me sit between her and Marie. “What happened?”

“My parents, well, my mom mostly. I guess I got too anxious for her, and she yelled at me,” I rambled.

Cate smiled softly. “Then you came at the perfect time. We were just talking about our horrible parents.”

My ears perked up. “Really?”

“Well, mine are dead,” Marie commented.

I turned to her and placed my hands on top of hers. “What? I’m so sorry. How did it…”

“I accidentally killed them with my powers,” Marie explained.

“That must have been horrible.”

Marie barely nodded and I squeezed her hands. “I just told my little brother to go away during a camping trip. He never came back and my mom pretty much locked me away,” Cate confessed. “I was seven.”

 “What?” I whispered.

“I killed my grandpa with my powers,” Jordan interjected.

We all turned to her and I cocked my head to the side.

“No, you didn’t,” Cate countered.

Jordan smiled. “You’re right, I was feeling left out.”

I didn’t think that I could laugh the way I did but it felt so nice. At least I had friends again.

When I started sipping on the whiskey Cate stole, I saw a brief image flash before my eyes. There was a guy with curly brown hair covered in dirt running away from several bloody bodies. He paused for a moment and opened his hand, revealing a tiny sleeping Emma. When the vision left, Andre was standing in front of us.

“Seriously?” I complained before he even spoke.

[jaeger-bombastard]

OP if you want me to delete my response to this I will, but I just agree so heavily and I want to add,

I normally don't speak openly about this because people get so argumentative about it but I so heavily agree. In highschool I had agoraphobia which lead to me developing a severe case of derealization which was happening several times a day, every day. I could not eat because the stress if caused made my stomach upset and went from 145lbs to 95ish. I had hair loss due to not eating and stress.

Even tho I have recovered a lot from the bulk of this, I still occasionally will regress and slip back into repetitive unhealthy coping mechanisms. Another thing to add on is the constant fatigue people with anxiety disorders have because of your body being in a constant panic state, overexherting your heart and senses, and never being able to get enough rest. My chest feels tight and I get sweaty every work day because of the anxiety a regular work day puts me through.

This topic is one that especially burns me because the whole "uwu anxious baby" culture has made it extremely hard to get accommodations without being immediately dismissed as "well everyone nowadays has anxiety/depression". I have been told "oh, my mom/sister/friend has anxiety. I know how it works." To dismiss me. I was labeled a problematic child instead. My father's coworker (who I never met) once "gifted" him a "dealing with an unruly teen" book bc they heard about me (small town). I had a doctor write off my anxiety as an "excuse for anorexia" bc I was an afab teenager. No one would listen because "oh everyone has anxiety" and it took me YEARS to get appropriate help.

I understand some people use humor to cope but anytime I see a dumbfuck tiktok with the caption "lol me dissasociating and work!!!" And it's just daydreaming or some shit makes me want to fist fight someone. I am not downplaying that everyone has problems and can experience anxiety, but experiencing anxiety does not make it an *anxiety disorder* and perpetuating otherwise is SERIOUSLY hurting people who do have them.

tbh I think anxiety and panic disorders are way too trivialized in the sense that it’s not taken seriously because “lol everyone these days has anxiety”. Like there is such a difference between having something like mild social anxiety vs a severe panic disorder and the effects they will have on your life and mobility. Idk no haterism directed at people who can manage their anxiety disorders good for you