#(did not help that the ocd brain started braining on the way)

[unrestrainedbalderdash]

Think it's absolute bollocks that the baskets at the local ASDA are before gates where it then says "no entry" so you can't go back and get a basket if you forget

[underwhelmingalchemist]

I wonder a lot if I have OCD, but every time I try to learn more about it for extended periods of time, the compulsions kick into overdrive. Whether or not that gives me my answer is unknown, as I have yet to be able to sit down and learn about it without having to stop after ten minutes because it becomes unbearable.

[chronicbeans]

Platonic Alastor x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

Hehe not me self-projecting again! Anyways, these are kinda based on my own experiences, but I'm trying to make them more generalized.

TW: Maladaptive daydreaming, escapism, dissociation, mentions of depression and anxiety, brief mentions of compulsive behavior/OCD, invasion of privacy, manipulation, peer pressure, yandere-ish behavior (I believe he defaults to those behaviors, no matter the type of relationship), mention of cannibalism (this is Alastor we're talking about...), Alastor is a shitty toxic friend in this

• He's absolutely fascinated by the way your mind works. Even before he knows what is going on, or begins to get close to you, he can tell you are an interesting person. The way you look so distant, like your mind is checked out and flying to far off places without you, is something he hasn't seen before. He wants to pick and prod at your brain to see what's going on.

• He doesn't want to do so the easy way, though. No. Instead, he wants to drag out this process for as long as possible, and make sure you twist and squirm all the while. He loves to make people uncomfortable, after all! That's his specialty, in his opinion, besides his radio show.

• He'll start off with introductions, of course, which is probably when he first got interested in you. That dreamy look isn't so easy to see from a distance, after all. The second he looked into your eyes while shaking your hand, though, it became obvious. How hadn't he seen it before? If he saw this look when he first entered, he would've talked to you first out of the crew at the Hazbin Hotel. Well, besides Charlie... But, that's just because she owns the place.

•The uncomfortable prodding starts in an instant. One of his first questions after getting your name is not "What made you want to come to the hotel?" or "What can you provide to help the hotel?" It's more like "How did you die?", "What are your major vices?", and "What sin have you committed to be brought to Hell?" He wants to test the waters. See what he can get away with without completely scaring you off. If you run away and avoid him, it'd be harder to learn what he wants, and make you uncomfortable while doing so.

• Regardless of whether or not you answer, you are probably a little put off from him. Not enough to completely avoid him, since you can see how some of those questions might help him help the hotel, but enough to be uncomfortable... Which, in his opinion, is perfect!

• He's great at hiding, so if you start noticing him mentioning things you thought were private, you really shouldn't be surprised. He can, quite literally, hide in the shadows at times. He quickly takes notes of your little habits, including ones you might be embarrassed about.

• He may watch you pacing around your room, mumbling to yourself as if you are playing pretend all alone. Or, maybe, he's hiding over your shoulder while you're writing down some elaborate storyline. Perhaps he's watching you in plain sight, seeing you make a bunch of odd facial expressions at seemingly nothing. He may not know why you do this, but he wants to. He would've suspected some sort of substance use, considering it's Hell. Lots of people do so. However, he's never seen you near anything that would cause such behavior. So, that's off his list, for now.

• So, step 2 of his plan begins! As his good ol' pals Husk and Niffty to try befriending you! Or, at the very least, get information from you that you aren't comfortable telling him. Then, have them report back to him with their findings. Of course, Husk seems agitated by the request, but obliges. Niffty seems more than happy to do as he asks, though. A happy worker is a good worker, so he has more hope in Niffty getting the big story than Husk.

• Surprisingly, though, he's proven wrong. The most Niffty got was your fashion sense, favorite types of stories, and that you are very "quiet". Yes, the fashion and types of stories were new to him... But what he seems important, the reason you act so oddly, isn't there. Husk, however, was able to get a lot more out of you, somehow.

• Husk mentions you talking to him, one night, after he saw you skipping oddly down the hall and pass the bar where he was cleaning the glasses before closing it for the night. You seemed extremely embarrassed to have been seen, mentioning that you thought he was asleep already. He then just, politely asked a few questions...? And got answers? How?

• Alastor immediately demands answers, only for Husk to reply "I don't know how to describe it like they did! Most I understood is that they daydream too much. Seems like it's a constant thing going on. They like to pace and prance while doing so, sometimes, but don't like getting caught."

• Now it begins to make more sense... the writing, the talks about stories with Niffty, the prancing and pacing... and most importantly, that dreamy, distant look you have. He can even see why you'd make odd expressions. You're reacting to your own thoughts... He doesn't understand it. He's never heard of anything like this before, especially during his time as a human, but he can tell one thing for certain: You must be his friend, now. Whether you like it or not.

• You are so different from everyone else he's met, you see, and he loves things that go against the norm. Now, while you may or may not be considered normal or not too different by others, you're different and abnormal to him. You somehow succeed in both being polite, smart, and funny to mess around with, while also barely being able to pay attention to the world around you. He's always thought that those two things were mutually exclusive. How can you learn when you can't stop being in your own head? How can someone be polite and not listen? The funny part, though... He can kind of see that. He finds surprising you be sneaking up behind you and tapping your shoulder funny every now and again. Nevertheless, you are going to be his friend.

• Soon enough, you notice his behavior changing, a bit. Less following you around, less vaguely threatening words, and more... quiet. It's eerie, coming from him. However, you also notice him trying to talk to you about stories and books he's heard and read. Even things he's heard during his human life, such as Creole folktales and other stories he's heard in New Orleans, Louisiana back in the 1920s-1930s. It's a bit like a completely different side to him you never expected to see, and never really wanted to, but you aren't really complaining. It's better than him deciding to terrorize you for fun and him asking invasive questions...

• A little more time passes and he decides to ask about small habits, disguising them as him just now noticing those habits, when he's probably noticed them while spying on you months prior. Nothing too extreme. Mostly just your expressions, how it seems like your attention is somewhere else... Nothing like your pacing, prancing, or acting. He wants to establish that he knows about these tiny little things, and now that you're more comfortable with him, you're much more likely to answer. That way, once he moves onto the bigger, more personal questions, you'll already have been eased into feeling comfortable with it.

• Eventually, you get to the point where you feel comfortable calling him a friend. He's already considered you one since that conversation with Husk, but it's a start. Now, he's gotten the lovely privilege of being able to know more about what's going on in that lovely little brain of yours... well, "little" brain is definitely an understatement. From how you describe your imagination, he'd be led to believe your mind must be as vast as the Library of Alexandria.

• Vast worlds, complicated plotlines, complex characters... you talk of odd tales you've created, all in your brain. Ones you've had in your mind for years, some you came up with on a whim, and others, still, that are still being developed. Stories that have been being created over the span of real life years, ones you started then dropped... All of which are being held in your head, with only a miniscule fraction of it being written onto paper. He's truly impressed, genuinely respecting your odd talent, as he sees it. You've perfected the craft of creativity, while he's perfected the art of talking to an audience. Even better, is that he got to learn whether or not his theory of you taking inspiration from stories you've heard was right. Which explains his sudden mentions of stories he's heard in life.

• Now... if only you'd let him tell some of your stories on his radio show! If you wouldn't like that, then he'd probably ask you to write something for his show. That way, it isn't as personal to you, and you wouldn't even need to be credited if you're embarrassed by it! He could just say a random listener sent it in, and he thought it'd be great to read, to show his appreciation for his adoring fans. The world simply must hear the greatness of your mind, dear, and he is not going to stop annoying politely asking you to write something until you do.

• Another thing he might try is to see if he can figure out why you partake in this little habit of yours. He's never heard of it, though he has asked some sinners and demons if they have. Be it Charlie, Angel Dust, some of the other overlords, or a friend of his we haven't seen or heard of, before. More modern sinners keep mentioning a thing called Maladaptive Daydreaming, describing it as a symptom of other mental health diagnoses... but that's the problem. That fits you, you've mentioned that you know of that and it fits you... but that's also just a symptom. Well, a few argue that it may be its own thing, but it is not an official diagnosis yet. So, for now, he wants to figure out why you do it.

• Is it depression? Anxiety? Do you really want to escape from something, and you're doing so by hopping into that little dream land of yours? Is it some sort of compulsion? You seem to not really be able to control it that well, after all, and others have mentioned links to OCD, as well as other disorders that can cause compulsions. Is it sheer, absolute, chronic boredom? Speak to him, dear! What is it? Do you even know? If not, he'll assume it's the boredom option... for now.

• He's obsessed with you, really. You're his friend, and he's very obsessive over them, in his own way. He is as far away from normal when it comes to showing real affection for others, which wouldn't be bad, if it weren't for the fact that a main part of it is him being absolutely suffocating when he's around. That, and he can be terrifying... He's the Radio Demon, after all! It's just worse for you than his other friends, though, because you are different. Being different is a really important thing for him, really, alongside being polite, smart, and funny. Not required, unlike the last three traits, but it makes you more likely to be his friend. You hit the lottery by achieving being all four, but it must be the worst lottery prize in the world.

• He holds the thought that you should just be friends with him. Now, you don't have to be... but, he'd prefer it. If you really want outside friends, sure! You just can't be friends with his other friends. He claims they'd "taint" you with how violent they can be. Plus, since he's friends with other cannibals, some of which do serve sinner and demon meat to others without telling them, he genuinely does worry about your safety and wellbeing if you met those specific friends of his. For your friends, he wants to meet them. He needs to in order to deem them worthy of being your friend, and to make sure it's not someone he knows and is friends with. You deserve perfection, and who knows perfection better than Alastor, yes? After all, he can see that you're perfect. That is more than enough evidence, dear.

• You're one of the few people who he doesn't mind having your attention not on him. Part of your charm, in his opinion, is your lack of attention. All he asks is that you tell him about a story of yours. What is going on in your head that's so important? Oh, a great war between this and that? A psychological horror? Cities beneath the sea? Tell him about it. He finds it fun! Especially if he can see any possible inspiration from events or other stories. He likes to hear your voice almost as much as he likes to hear his own, which you'll realize is more of a compliment than it might sound like, once you truly get to know him.

[repulsiveliquidation]

When I’m with you, there is no one else because I get heaven to myself.

Leah Williamson x Reader blurb. If you recognize the lyric of the title, tell me! I was inspired when I heard the song come on on the plane and pulled my iPad out to write it!

It’s not formatted how i like because im doing this on my iPad and Apple is an asshole. Okay it is because my OCD cannot handle it.

“Leah?”

“Yes love?”

You walk into the room, plopping yourself on the couch beside Leah who was watching some film.

“Why do you love me?”

Leah is taken aback with this question, looking at you like you’ve got two heads.

“There are many reasons, my girl.”

“Yeah, what are they?”

Leah thinks for a second, pondering on the correct things she wants to say. There were your eyes. They were so radiant and enticing. There was your hair, so soft and it always smelled like roses. There was your skin, smooth and a canvas for her art and devotion to you. There were your lips, strawberry flavored and always gave the best kisses. There was your body, every curve and valley she had memorized and knew at the back of her hand. There was your smile, a smile that Leah would give her right leg to make sure you always could smile that way.

But there also was your brain, so smart yet so witty and stubborn sometimes. There was your heart, the kindest Leah ever did see; a heart willing to do their utmost best for its loved ones. There was your soul, old but gold. There was your personality, bubbly but shy, reserved yet still somehow outgoing. It also loved dogs more than you did Leah, she sometimes thought.

“Have you got time? We’re going to be here all afternoon,” Leah grins, taking your hand and pulling you to sit in her lap. You settle, legs thrown over her legs with your chest pressed to hers.

“I love your eyes. they’re so radiant and enticing, i could get lost in them; i do get lost in them.” As she says this she tilts your head to look at her, her blue eyes piercing into yours.

“I love your hair. It’s so soft and always smells so good, I love burying my face in it when we cuddle before bed, it somehow lulls me to sleep.” She drags her fingers through it, untangling a few little knots.

“I love your skin, it’s so smooth and supple. I love leaving marks all over so everyone knows you’ve got someone to come home to.” She caresses her palms down your arms, kissing your shoulder.

“I love your lips. You always have that strawberry chapstick on, it fucking drives me crazy when i can still taste it on my lips when we’ve stopped kissing.” She leans in for a kiss, pecking your lips softly. She smiles, muttering “See, strawberry.” You giggle, tucking your face in her neck softly mumbling for her to continue.

“I love your body,” she starts, hands grasping your hips and thumbs rubbing your waist. “I love every mark, scar, dip, fold, valley, crevice, all of it. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve had the privilege of laying my eyes on and i am so thankful that you love me the way you do.”

She keeps going, rubbing your back and smiling to herself softly when she feels her neck get a little wet.

“Then, we’ve got your smile. Oh hell, your smile can make any bad day go away. Seeing your toothy grin when you’re excited makes me ready to fight anyone that dares take it off your face.”

“Your brain’s next, so sarcastic but so fucking smart. You’re stubborn and it doesn’t help that I am too. But that brain has gotten me out of situations where I didn’t think i would ever survive. You’ve been with me through injury, loss, pain, rejection. I could not have handled all that if it weren’t for you.”

“Your heart is the kindest I have ever seen. You would give someone you knew for about 20 seconds the shirt off your back if they asked. But you love so hard and so raw that anyone that has ever experienced even a sliver would be so lucky. And i get to love it and have it love me all day every day so I must have won the love lottery.” You giggle wetly, snuggling into her lap more.

“Don’t stop please, Leah,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw.

She nods, “You’ve got an old soul, it’s old but gold and that’s the best kind. Compliments my youthful one.”

“You’ve got a special personality, so bubbly with the right people but shy until you get to know them. You’re reserved in serious situations but so outgoing when we’re alone or with friends and family. And the fact that you love dogs sometimes i feel more than me annoys me but seeing you with Bella always makes my heart clench, darling.”

“The way you love my family is what let me know that I wanted to marry you. You know how much it means to me and seeing you get along with them sealed the deal for me. Thank you for loving me for who I am, darling. It’s all I could have ever asked for.”

You both sit there together and just take in Leah’s words, you finally pull away, wiping away tears.

“You really mean all that you said?”

“Every word, my girl.”

“I love you, Leah. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you too, baby. When I’m with you, there’s no one else in the world, because I’ve got heaven all to myself.”

[shadebloopnik]

This is gonna sound SOOO off or smthn but

Was the Perfect Family Harmony planned to be a weapon against the Bergens?

Long post ahead bc brain is rotting

Ok so as we know, the Perfect Family Harmony is smthn that's so powerful that its capable of shattering diamonds. Not just that but its one of the only thing capable of doing so(according to Floyd it was the only thing but giving the benefit of the doubt)

So we know its strong, and we saw it blasting off Velvet and Veneer off their platforms when they performed it, and they weren't even the targets, they were blasted away by just the shockwave that came with using it.

"Its that powerful."

Ok, so its definitely powerful enough to be used as a weapon right? Yeah it was relatively safe enough to use in front of a crowd, else they wouldn't have tried to do it during a concert, but that could just be when those harmonizing aren't targeting anything.

If it could shatter diamonds, how easily could it break cages? What would it do if it was used to target a Bergen? A whole Kingdom of Bergens?

Lets also go back to that concert, to that time John was obsessed with them getting it right. They were in the Troll tree, in Bergentown, a place where any of them could die during Trollstice. The Bergens were a huge threat, something that trolls, at their size, couldn't fight back against normally so they had to run instead right?

But what if they COULD fight back? What if they had a weapon so powerful that it might finally be able to free them? To defeat the monsters that tortured their kind for centuries?

What if John Dory found a way to help make sure nothing would threaten his brothers' safety ever again?

Like, it'd make John Dory's obsession make SOOO MUCH MORE SENSE

Like yea he clearly has OCD and anxiety and some bossiness and that definitely added to it all, but imagine if it was more than that?

Look at him during that performance. He was in deep. He had a wild look in his eyes, a sort of deranged obsession to have everything be perfect no matter what. It wasn't healthy, it was scary, maybe even downright terrifying for his brothers who had to be subjected to it.

But you know what else he looked like?

Terrified

Man was scared out of his mind. His anxiety and stress levels were through the roof. He probably was one wrong tune away from hyperventilating.

What if it was bc it was so much more than the fans? What if he put the salvation of the entire troll-kind on his shoulders?

One wrong step meant they were nothing.

One wrong step meant disappointing the fans.

One wrong step meant letting down the kingdom.

One wrong step meant another troll getting eaten.

Thats why when they failed, John blew up. He took all of that self-hatred of failing to use that weapon to defeat the bergens and poured it all onto his brothers.

"I know we can reach the Perfect Family Harmony."

"What if we don't want to."

John Dory, blind to how and WHY his brothers didn't want to follow his lead, felt betrayed.

To him, all he's ever done was to ensure their safety, everything was for the greater good. He'd done everything he could, his goals slowly twisting him into a crazed obsession. To hear his brothers say they didn't want to help anymore might've struck a cord too much. If you'd noticed he actually looked really sad and hurt when they started bringing up how much they hated being in the band, but it slowly twisted to anger instead. Kind of in a like, "I tried doing everything for these shts and THIS is how they repay me???" way. He was so stressed and stuck in his own head with his failures that he just couldn't see what his brothers were trying to say.

So in a fit of impulsive rage, he left. To him it probably was like that rlly childish way of saying "Yea im leaving, good luck dealing with the Bergens while im goneee." You know? Like how kids runaway from home when they get angry or upset over every little thing but come back when they realize how stupid that was?

"Im not allowed to change."

And he DID come back. Who knows how long, but he did. Imagine how he must've felt seeing their empty pod in an empty tree, with the knowledge that he could've done something about it. The Perfect Family Harmony could've saved them. They could've used it to break the cage, to fight the Bergens. Hell, it could've been powerful enough to wipe out all the Bergens if they do so wished.

"Im the oldest, I have to be the leader."

He and his brothers were the only ones who'd ever gotten close to getting it right.

"Why do you think I moved into the middle of nowhere? So I didn't have to be in charge of anyone."

The village was counting on them. Counting on him. He let them down. He failed.

"Freeing the village Four little brothers is a lot of responsibility."

They could've gotten it. If only John did it right. If only John did it differently.

If only John Dory was Perfect

[traumatizeddfox]

we seriously need to change the language when it comes to abuse. narc abuse does not exist. abusers can have mental disorders, triggers, or traumas but that does not mean people with the same disorder is abusive.

when i first realized i was abused i fell down the narcissistic abuse tiktok trail, i started to believe the only reason my ex was abusive was because he had NPD (he is diagnosed) but then after more of my own research, and conversations with people who are diagnosed with NPD, I realized that abusers are just abusers, and that a lot of people with this disorder are the ones being abused, ostracized from society and not taken serious.

The thing about abusers is they all share the same brain cell, which is why you can list off 10 things most abusers do and a lot of victims will relate. I get countless anons of victims telling me things their abusers did, and I can usually 8/10 times relate on some kind of level, because abusers, again literally only share one brain cell.

The issue with this is abuse has been almost synonymous with the word "narcissist". The amount of shit you see with "Narc abuse", when it's really just abuse. People making countless posts about "how to spot a narcissist, how to fix the narc", etc and I can guarantee you that not all of these abusers have NPD.

BUT we live in such a world of "what about me", so when people try to break the stigma of NPD, victims assume you're telling them they weren't abused. They mention x y z thing that their abuser did, they bring up their mother who maybe was one and maybe their abuser does have NPD, but then these same people want to scream about mental health awareness. They want to say that "Your disorder is not your story", or that everyone with a disorder deserves love, respect, therapy and help but once anyone with a disorder that isn't socially acceptable, it's as if these people turn a blind eye to anyone with a disorder that isn’t classified as worthy. No one is telling you to respect or love the piece of shit who abused you, hurt you, bullied you. Fuck that, but we HAVE to stop associating abuse with npd. if we want to make a change to mental health and the stigma, we need to do with all disorders.

People make these videos, blogs, books, posts, etc on narcissists like they arent...human. The stigma has turned anyone with cluster B personality disorders into something hideous, when really, most of these people are born this way, or deep rooted trauma. BUT when people hear this, they think its giving an excuse. No one is telling you that you have to love ur abuser who might be a narcissist, or that mental disorders = pass. No. Your abuser can have NPD, OCD, depression, etc and be a completely terrible person, and no one is giving them a pass. (Maybe some might but thats a completely different story.) but to just assume NPD = abuser and abuser = npd, is incredibly ableist, but people aren't ready for that one.

The way people talk about people with NPD like they are monsters, and ghouls waiting in the dark corners of the street, waiting to snatch their next victim (who they always describe as being an empath because these people think having empathy = being a good person, when most people aren't even empaths.) They like to romanticize their abuse as well. Talking about how narcissists spot victims who are so "kind, loving, wonderful, special." They try to make it this thing that it's not. Abusers do not abuse you because you are special. they abuse you because they are abusers. Your abuser is a piece of shit who deserves to die because they are an abuser. not because they have a disorder.

period.

[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

[topguncortez]

A Brain on Fire || Whumptober Day 8 - B. Bradshaw

whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist

synopsis: ever since Bradley was little he struggled to keep things in order and keep the voices in his head at bay. One day, the voices get too loud and Bradley misses the biggest day of your career.

word count: 2.8k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: panic attack

warnings: mental illness, OCD, panic attacks, mentions of self harm, cursing, mentions of sexism, tears.

For as long as Bradley could remember, he always had trouble with his thoughts. He could remember the first time the voices in his head became too loud. He had been in the grocery store with his mom, Carole. Bradley might’ve been about five at the time, just getting ready to start kindergarten. That day had started off like every other day, Carole made him breakfast; strawberry pancakes with peanut butter. She helped him get dressed and combed his brown hair. Everything seemed fine, except Bradley couldn’t turn off the voice in his head. 

He had tried to fight it as he went and played next door with the neighbors. But the voice was too loud, counting every single step that Bradley would take. He would count to ten in his head, and start over back at zero. It had been going on for hours until Bradley in the middle of the grocery store started to cry and tug at his hair. Carole’s blue eyes widened in fright as she watched her son have a breakdown. 

“I can’t stop counting! I can’t stop! Make it stop!” 

Since that day, Bradley learned ways to keep the voices in his head at bay. The doctor had diagnosed him with OCD. He learned that his mind was an unorganized but organized control center. Working at it’s own pace, doing its own thing. Everything he did had a certain methodical movement to it. He had to be in control of everything at all times, or the voices would start to get loud again. Even the slightest thing out of order would send him into a spiral, and he would start counting, over and over and over. 

But then Bradley found you. 

You were the sort of thing that Bradley had feared welcoming into his life. You were a hurricane, literally, your callsign was Hurricane. You were unorganized and loud. You flew by the seat of your pants. Most days you woke up without a single plan for your day, tossing on whatever flight suit was found on your floor and didn’t smell too awful. You were always running into work at the last minute, coffee spilling over your hand, and way too many notebooks and pencils. 

Bradley hated you at first. He hated how someone so pretty and alluring, could be so messy and out of order. But it worked for you. And eventually, Bradley got used to it. He got used to your organized chaos crashing with his. You were the sort of thrill and release his therapist had told him to find. 

Your relationship started off slow, and steady. Coffee dates at the same coffee shop, at the same table, at the same time on the same day of the week. Then it moved to dinner dates, at the same restaurant, at the same table at the same time on the same day of the week. You knew that Bradley was meticulously organized, but you didn’t know how bad it was until he invited you over the first time. You had kicked your shoes off, leaving them scattered on the mat, which Bradley had to promptly fix. There was not a single thing out of place in his house. 

“Bradley, if I went like this,” You tilted a frame that was on his wall, “Does it make you-” 

“Mad? Yes,” Bradley huffed and fixed the picture frame promptly, “I don’t like things out of order.” 

You nodded and titled the frame again. Bradley reached out to fix it, but you grabbed his hand. He felt his heart beating erratically as you squeezed his hand. 

“Y/N,” Bradley pleaded, hearing the voices in his head get louder and louder, “I really like you. . . But I need to fix this,” You looked at his brown eyes began to turn glassy, “Please.” It broke your heart to hear him sound so pitiful. You let go of his hand and he quickly fixed the frame. 

Since that night, the two of you learned to live with Bradley’s OCD. You had learned to be a little more organized, and Bradley had learned to be a little unorganized. He would still have his days where he would wake up and scrub the whole house from top to bottom, but it stopped being a weekly task. You had learned to pick up on the tells when the voices in Bradley’s head got too loud and he started counting. He had only had one serious breakdown which led to both of you in tears and you calling Phoenix in fear for Bradley’s life. 

But as smooth as things had been, they were headed towards the tipping point. Both you and Bradley could feel it, but you did your best to ignore it. . . or brace for the storm. 

Bradley had woken up feeling off. He had the day off, which was an unusual occurrence, but he still went about his day as normal. Waking up at 5:30 AM and rolling out of bed to start making coffee, before waking you up at 5:45 on the dot. He showered with you, like normal, making sure to wash your hair thoroughly. He laid out your khakis and packed your flight suit in your duffle bag while you did your hair. Bradley then made his way downstairs to start making breakfast. Normally, you trudged down the stairs, sleep still in your eyes, but today, you came running down, a bright smile on your face. 

“Good morning, love,” You said in a sing-song voice. You kissed Bradley’s cheek as you reached for the coffee

“Morning, honey,” Bradley answered back, “What’s got you so happy at 6:30 in the morning?”

“I can’t be happy this early in the morning?” You smiled, “I gotta run, I got a really busy day today,” You said, grabbing the bagel and coffee Bradley had prepared for you, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Bradley nodded and kissed you goodbye as you ran out the door, shouting an “I love you” over your shoulder. Bradley sighed, running a hand down his face. He closed his eyes, trying to think through his usual “Day Off” tasks, but for some reason, he couldn’t keep a coherent train of thought. Everything thing he thought of was cut off by numbers. He clenched his jaw and downed the rest of his coffee, before heading upstairs to his home office. 

“One, two, three, four,” Bradley counted as he walked. His heartbeat picked up as he shook his head, trying to stop the counting in his head. 

Bradley wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at his computer screen. He wanted to smash it to pieces as his brain just kept counting to ten over and over as he tried to work on flight plans. It had taken you over two hours to write a half-assed 2-paragraph email to Admiral Simpson, apologizing for not getting the plans in on time. Bradley closed his laptop and walked down the hall to the empty bedroom, that you had dubbed the meditation room. It was the one room in the house that didn’t have a single thing in it. It was a completely bare room, that was supposed to be a place where Bradley could just sit in silence and gather his thoughts. 

Tears started to roll down Bradley’s cheeks as he lay down on the hardwood floor, staring up at the ceiling. You had taken the ceiling fan out a couple of weeks ago after Bradley told you the blades weren’t helping him. Even stationary, Bradley’s mind conjured up the image of them spinning around and he felt like he had to count the rotations. Bradley closed his eyes, trying to regain control over his breathing, as he felt his heart trying to break out of his chest. He turned on his side, bringing his knees up to his chest, burying his head, and holding his hands over his ears. 

“Go away. . . Go away!” Bradley yelled. His body was beginning to feel weak. His muscles felt like stone as he lay on the floor, silently counting to himself, “One, two, three, four. . .”

--------------------------

You had probably checked your watch for the 10 thousandth time that hour. You turned in your seat to look around the hangar. The dagger squad, Admiral Simpson, and Admiral Bates were all waiting for the promotion ceremony to start. Phoenix had even gone as far as to call your parents via Facetime. You kept pushing back as much as you could, saying that Bradley was probably just running late, but everyone knew that Bradley Bradshaw didn’t run late. He was painfully on-time for everything.

“Cane,” Hangman said, a sad look on his face, “Admiral Simpson is getting grumpy. He’s not coming.”

You looked over to where Admiral Simpson was, checking his watch and huffing out a breath. You looked down at the shiny gold pins in your hand. You held your hand out towards Jake, silently asking him to take them. And he did, giving you a sad smile. 

“Bob is gonna take a video,” Hangman said, “And you know how Fanboy is with pictures.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, “I texted him this morning. I don’t. . . He wouldn’t have forgotten something like this.” 

“I can go have Mav try and call-”

“Don’t,” You said, taking a deep breath, “It’s fine. Let’s get this done.”

You didn’t ever show his emotions, usually being the calm one of the group, but Jake could see the complete hurt on your face. You walked to the back of the hangar where Maverick and Admiral Simpson stood. Both men looked at you and all you could do was nod, terrified if you opened your mouth you would start crying. Admiral Bates called the hangar to attention as the three of you walked in formation to the front of the hangar. Jake stood off to the side, giving you a thumbs-up and a smile. 

“Take seats,” Admiral Bates said to the aviators, “Welcome friends, family, and aviators to the promotion of Lieutenant Commander Y/N Hurricane L/N to Captain of VFA 334 Daggers. This is history in the making as the first female Captain of the Daggers.” 

You didn’t stick around long after the promotion ceremony ended. Hangman had convinced you to stick around for a piece of cake, but you only ate half of it, not feeling well enough to eat the sugary treat. You said goodbye to everyone and went straight home. You had called Bradley as soon as you got into your car, but it went straight to voicemail, again. Worry filled your body as you drove home. But the moment you arrived in the driveway, the worry faded into anger. You slammed your car door and marched into the house. The sound of Elton John’s “Philidelphia Freedom” was blaring through the speakers as Rooster stood over the stove. You slammed your keys down on the island, startling him from his cooking trance. 

“Oh! Hey! Your home!” Bradley said, putting on a fake smile.

“What the hell is all this?” You asked, looking around at the various ingredients all over the kitchen.

“I- uh, I wanted to try something?” Bradley said nervously.

“You wanted to try something? You wanted to- is this what was so fucking important that you turned your phone off?”

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and noticed that he had turned it off at some point, probably when he went into the meditation room, “I’m sorry I just-“

“You missed it,”

“Missed what?”

You let out a short breath, “Forget it, just like you forget everything else. I knew you were upset that I put a packet in but I didn’t know it would be like this. Here, find a place for this to go,” You set down your promotion award on the counter in front of you and stormed out of the kitchen. 

Bradley felt like someone had cut off his air supply as he looked at the words printed on the award. His frantic eyes looked over at the fridge, where a calendar hung, and in his meticulous handwriting read: “Y/N Promotion!!!” 

“Oh my god,” Bradley cried, crumbling down to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest, letting the tears and short breaths escape his mouth. You had worked hard to get this promotion, beating out not only him and Hangman, but other aviators who had applied for it. You would never admit it, but it meant everything to you to even be considered for the spot. . . that was something indescribable. How the hell could Bradley forget something so important? How could Bradley just completely ignore it too? When he turned his phone on, he was bombarded with texts and missed call notifications. Everyone had texted him, from Natasha and Hangman to Maverick.

‘Hangman: where are you?’

‘Dude, Y/N keeps trying to stall. Where are you?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘We’re starting to get worried. . .’

‘I swear to god if you’re sleeping. . .’

‘You missed the promotion. Y/N is on his way home. . . she’s devastated’

Tears clogged his vision at the last text. Bradley’s heart felt like it shattered reading the world ‘devastated’. Bradley had tried to always be there for you. He knew that it was hard to be a female in the aviator world. He had heard the gossip about you and his relationship, and he never wanted you to feel like you had to hold yourself back from being the best that you could be. And the one time that you needed him the most, Bradley hadn’t shown up. Bradley didn’t even know what to do, so he just sat on the kitchen floor and cried.

----------------------

The second you were in the comfort of your bedroom, you shed off your khakis. The material felt stiffer than normal against your skin. Your hair felt tighter too, and a headache began to form. You tossed your shirt into the hamper, leaving you just in your white tank top and pants. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you walked to the bathroom. 

You weren’t sure what to think. You were heartbroken and angry. You knew that Rooster was eyeing the captain spot. Hell, even as you filled out the packet, you were wondering if you were doing the right thing. Rooster not only had years to your senior, but he had more experience and more awards. But Rooster had been your biggest cheerleader the whole time. He had been so proud of you when you had made it to the interview part, beating him and Hangman out. You thought it was genuine, but now you were second-guessing. 

You shook your head as you reached behind your head, starting to take out the pins that were holding your bun together. It was then that you noticed that on Rooster’s side of the sink, everything was slightly out of order. His toothbrush was lying next to the sink and not in the usual holder. He didn’t put the cap back on his cologne. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stepped back into the bathroom and noticed that the bad wasn’t made and that his clothes from last night were strewn across the floor. 

Realization hit you like a freight train as you ran down the stairs. You should’ve noticed it this morning when Bradley was wearing mismatched socks, or this afternoon when he answered back with a one-word text, or when you came home to the kitchen in complete disarray. You quickly made your way downstairs,  to find Bradley now scrubbing the kitchen floors. All the cooking stuff was put away, and everything was tidied up again.

“B. . .” You whispered.

“One, two, three, four. . ..”

“B, it’s late,” You said trying to reason with him, “Come on, we can clean the kitchen tomorrow.”

“Five, six, seven. . .” 

“Bradley,” You knelt down on the floor in front of him. 

“Eight, nine. . .” 

“Bradley,” You grabbed his face in your hands. Your heart broke at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and pink cheeks. 

“Ten. One, two, three-” You cut him off by hugging him tightly. You brought his head to your chest, and he closed his eyes tightly, still counting softly, “Four, five, six. . .” 

“It’s okay,” You shush him. You felt his body tremble as numbers mixed with sobs escaped his mouth until the crying completely took over. 

“I can’t stop,” Bradley cried, “I can’t stop counting. I’m so sorry.”

You rubbed his back, and placed a kiss on the top of his head, “It’s okay, Bradley. It’ll be okay.” 

“It’s not okay,” Bradley shook his head. You pulled back from him, holding his face in your hands again. You wiped away the falling tears with your thumb, as he grasped your wrists, running his thumb over the pulse point. 

“You’re right, it’s not okay. You forgot something important, and it hurts,” You said, “But you also hid the fact that you are struggling right now. I told you from day one, to never hide how you’re feeling from me. If I had known, I would’ve come home. I guess I was more worried that something was wrong than angry at you for not being there.”

“Please, please forgive me?” Bradley asked through his tears.

“I forgive you, I’ll always forgive you,”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @topgun-imagines @sarahsmi13s @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17 @cornylovers

[saturday-byte]

Sooo I have parasites in my brain and they told me to do it again so here we are. Another robot

Meet Silvana my newest wretched creation. They're an actress from the 70s and are coo-coo in the head. Lore and more doodles under the cut yeah

Silvana was built in Argentina, 1971 for acting - becoming quite recognized in record time for the trait of Being A Robot. Such fame let them do as they pleased , so they started giving in to its twisted vision of love - ending up eating her partners to "become one" (robot cannibalism who cheered). Also developed ocd due to the paranoia of being followed. Don't give a bored robot money

Sometime around the late 80s , she met Rosetta (one of my other fanbots go look for her) and fell in love - twisting its entire life and personality to fit their newest object of obsession like how she usually does , but this time was different. Unlike Silvana's other partners , this time it didn't end like it usually did , as her loved one managed to escape. Consumed by obsession , she's been trying to locate Rose again , but it sure is hard as he doesn't have a set place to live. It's been years !

Nowadays , it's staying with ( @ramenwithbroccoli 's ) Bernie , who has a similar motive so they can (in their twisted way) help each other out with their "quest". They're on the run from the government or something idk I think they're queers

If this was incomprehensible no it wasn't (ask me about it)(please)

[sysmedsaresexist]

so this is an honest question because you seem to understand the ToSD really well, and this is something that has always confused us; is there a specific reason for the idea that identity integration can only be interupted by trauma and not a neurological or biological issue?

We ask because we have autism which has affected almost everything about our existence and functioning from how we process information and sensory input, to how we learn, and even how we experience emotions and more complex things like our self perception and gender.

It is confusing to us that all these other things, including identity and perception, can be changed by something biological/neurological, and thats generally accepted to be true but the idea that and extremely long and complex process that also depends on feedback from other people can't be?

We get specific trauma responses and symptoms but the whole "the only way for states not to integrate/integrate fully is trauma in one specific window" seems to make integration one of if not the only processes in the brain that can't be disrupted by neurology and that is confusing to us

This is a good and valid question.

And here's the truth.

We don't know that it's the only way.

However, that conversation is 100% completely separate from structural dissociation.

It's so important to remember that structural dissociation is specifically and solely focused on dissociation in response to trauma.

Nothing else. It can't be compared to anything else.

I'm genuinely not sure how to structure this post, so I'm going to talk about a couple different theories/ideas, in no particular order. Give it a chance and read to the end, where we talk about the flip side.

I think we need to first talk about trauma in relation to developmental and neurological disorders.

As a reminder, trauma is not an event, but a reaction to things around you.

For children with things like autism, ADHD, anxiety, OCD, they're not only at a higher risk of being abused and traumatized, but they're more easily traumatized by a wider range of things. They're the populations most prone to pathological dissociation.

Did you daydream a lot as a kid? Does MaDD kind of hit hard? Did teachers and parents get really mad at you for your dissociation?

I hate to tell you this, but there's a high chance you're traumatized.

And the thing with CPTSD, what is essentially a precursor to DID and (largely considered) to be a dissociative disorder, is that it can be so hard to pinpoint where and how it started. It's a lifetime of papercuts vs a car accident. Do you remember every little cut? The cause can seem invisible.

The leading cause of CPTSD is emotional neglect, something even the most well-intentioned parents can do without ever meaning to. It's called the invisible abuse for a reason.

And emotional neglect happens so much easier when your child has additional needs that are commonly missed and not diagnosed until adulthood, long after the crucial period where they needed the most help.

All that said, we need to talk again about how many of those disorders include dissociation already.

Not only is dissociation common, but things like autism are highly recognized to affect a person's sense of self, specifically in childhood, but now you're getting into "chicken and egg" conversations.

In my own opinion, I would think that if autism alone could result in dissociated identities, we would know that by now. I mean, look at BPD, we know what happens with trauma in childhood that doesn't result in DID. There's an incredible amount of discussion about whether certain cases of BPD are actually sister-versions of OSDD (think OSDD-1c, the less defined alters seen in 1a, plus the lack of amnesia seen in 1b).

All THAT said, we're talking about dissociation and trauma.

This doesn't touch on the way people define and interpret their personal experiences. It seems completely plausible that people could simply just be more in tune with aspects of themselves, and view life through a comfortable, happy lens of multiplicity.

The multiple self theory has been around as long as the ToSD.

And that discussion doesn't necessarily need to be separate from dissociation and trauma, but I think for some it just is.

In every sense of the word, it just... is.

It simply is that way for them.

I firmly believe these two concepts would be 100% separate and different (acknowledging that for some, these can and do overlap, but I'm talking about brain scan level differences)

Unfortunately, words are limited, and there's only one perfect word for both experiences.

"System".

I hope this was some food for thought. I encourage people to get involved in the conversation!

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 2

CW: Mental Health Struggles - Guide to content warnings

Inside the clinic Carson waited and right on time Dr Hanks showed up.

Dr H: Hello Carson, you found the clinic all right?

Carson: Yeah, I didn’t realise they just converted a house

Dr H: Don’t want to ruin the landscape and many patients feel more comfortable visiting a place that doesn’t look too official. Ah, here he is

Out of one of the rooms came a sim who looked like they belonged on a beach more than in a clinic.

Carson: You sure he’s a good fit Dr Hanks?

Dr H: He is but I’ll let him introduce himself. I’ll see you again if we need to change your prescription okay? Look after yourself Carson

Carson: Thanks

Carson was led into one of the rooms and took a seat, feeling awkward already.

Chad: My name is Chad Harrison, you can call me Chad or C, either is good. My main focus is anxiety disorders

Carson: Disorders

Chad: Disorders are just how we classify them, it’s not a reflection on your character

Carson: I guess

Chad: I’ve coached many a kid through what you’re dealing with Carson, I can help

Carson: Can you make the intrusive thoughts stop

Chad: It’s not as simple a fix as that. It’s about retraining your brain so that when they come up you can deal with them in healthy ways

Carson: So I won’t have to always spend half my day cleaning

Chad: Not at all. It will take time though, your brain has been working one way for so long, it takes time to adjust your thinking but plenty of kids I’ve dealt with can reduce symptoms

Carson: That’d be a relief. Ever since I lost my asthma inhaler I’ve been compelled to clean everything

Chad: Did Dr Hanks explain what OCD is

Carson: Yeah kinda, well the symptoms. Like I’ll get bad thoughts like, I’m going to have an asthma attack and die or my parents will die and my brain thinks if I can just do something like keep my shoes lined up in the wardrobe I can prevent it

Chad: You got it. But talk therapy will be about helping you as a person as well as someone who has OCD

Carson: So we can discuss whatever

Chad: I generally like to start sessions with a bit of catch up talk to help relax you. What’s on your mind today

Carson: My mind? Well, a girl I guess

Chad: Is she your girlfriend

Carson: Well no, I just... I just think she’s really pretty and she’s... she’s been through some stuff but is still going you know

Chad: Are you wanting to tell her how you feel or are you happy admiring from afar

Carson: I don’t know how I feel. I mean I like her and would like to go on a date and hold hands and stuff but... I worry I’m not right

Chad: Because of the anxiety?

Carson: It’s not that, it’s not even the asthma which leaves me looking much rounder than I like. It’s...

Carson really hoped Chad would jump in with exactly what his thoughts were but nope. Guess it was up to him. Damn this was awkward, but it did seem easier to talk to someone that wasn’t his parents. And it would be cold day in hell before he discussed this topic with Reece.

Carson: It’s about woohoo

Chad: I see. Well you are almost 15, it’s very normal to be having those thoughts and acting on them solo or sometimes with a partner at that age

Carson: But see... I was talking to my best mate Onyx and... well I don’t have the same kind of woohoo thoughts they do

Chad: Everyone is an individual, it would strange if you had the exact same type as your friend. Can you tell me what bothers you about having different thoughts?

Carson: Well... Onyx, and my mates Darwin and William, when they... you know... they picture people. I don’t really picture anything, it’s just about like sensations and having an itch I need to scratch that feels good once it happens

Chad: Go on

Carson: And like I never look at anyone and think, oh it could be fun to have woohoo. Like even the girl I like, I’d love to kiss and cuddle and stuff but I don’t look at her and think, I want to woohoo her. What if my brain is just not mature, and will never mature

The counsellor was silent for a moment and Carson felt his anxiety raise. This was clearly a mistake. Chad would think he was a weirdo who didn't deserve help. He should leave.

Chad: Carson have you heard about the asexual spectrum

Carson: The what?

Chad: The asexual spectrum. Probably easier to start more basic, you know how gender is a spectrum?

Carson: Yeah, Onyx is genderfluid and their current pronouns are they/them

Chad: Attraction is also a spectrum

Carson: Yeah I know I’m bi. Mum hoped one of us kids would be pan like her but I feel like bi just fits me better

Chad: What isn’t often made clear to growing kids is that romantic attraction and woohoo attraction are different things, and they don’t have to match. Am I wrong to assume if you identify as bi you have wanted to date boys and girls

Carson: Yeah, especially pretty ones

Chad: Based on what you’ve been saying I think you may be biromantic but fall somewhere on the asexual spectrum, which is part of woohoo attraction

Carson: So I’m not just a wuss?

Chad: You’re not a wuss for not wanting to woohoo, there are plenty of reasons not to in any scenario. Anyone who forces you to woohoo or says you have to is in the wrong, you understand?

Carson: Yeah, I know about consent. But what is an asexual spectrum

Chad: Basically it’s for people who feel less woohoo attraction than the average person. There are some people who need an emotional connection before they’ll feel attracted to their partner in a woohoo way. The spectrum stretches from them all the way to people who never experience woohoo attraction. It doesn’t make you immature to not feel any woohoo attraction, there are many people who identify along the spectrum. As for wuss there are also variants for how touch averse a person is or isn't, and that comes from preference not cowardice

Carson: I’m just worried if I ask her on a date but I don’t want to woohoo I’m like... leading her on

Chad: You’re still young Carson, it’s possible the thought of woohoo hasn’t even crossed her mind. Don't feel like you need to grow up any faster than is comfortable. You said you like her right

Carson: Right

Chad: So there is nothing false in that. Don’t focus on what might happen in the far future, if you want to hold her hand now then you want to hold her hand now. Cross the other bridges when you come to them

Carson: I guess you’re right

Chad: Okay, you ready to start working on the OCD now

Carson: After that conversation it’s bound to be a breeze

Chad: *laughs* That’s the spirit

Previous ... Next

[percynorthwest]

@jegulus-microfic

Jegulus Microfic

june 23 - Brain

1300 words

TW: OCD, compulsions, and some ERP-therapy

(Reg is struggling with his ocd, trying to do ‘therapy homework’ and James supports him best he can)

(a/n at the end)

"You don't understand! There is something wrong with my brain!" Regulus says, voice filled with anger, no -desperation, in such a way that makes James shiver. "I have to. I have to, I have to, i have to I have to I have to." each time he repeats himself, the previous agitation lessens, and what's left is sobs, getting more quiet each time.

James doesn't know what to do. He wants to help Regulus as best as he can, but he also knows that he shouldn't reassure too much, that that would only hurt in the long term.

"It doesn't work, why can't it just be like i want it to?!"

He mumbles with the panic still stuck in his throat. Tears are running down his cheeks, but he doesn't pause the task at hand for even a moment to wipe them away- something he would otherwise usually do as soon as possible (he hates the feeling of them on his face, james knows.) James, still feeling helpless, takes a tissue, softly ask if it's okay for him to wipe them away, to which Regulus nods and lets out a slight hulk.

Carefully, James brings the tissue to regulus face, and softly wipes away the tears.

"Help,"

James could barely hear the word uttered from Regulus' mouth.

"How can I help my love?" He asks.

"I don't know," Regulus answers, once again starting to hulk more violently, breathing faster. "it's just wrong, everything ís wrong, i get it wrong. i can't stop."

james takes a sharp breath, trying to find something that would be able to help, but not only in short -time. He has researched the disorder ever since Regulus told him about it. Obsessive compulsive disorder. Reassuring will only lessen the worry of the moment, it won't actually help. Trying to argue with logic on why to stop, wouldn't help. Saying "It looks fine, just stop." or "They're clean, you can stop washing your hands" certainly wouldn't help. Not that those examples were any contenders to James on what to do.

"I know that there's no logic in it, at least no concrete logic. But in my head it makes perfect sense, and i just have to. everything will be okay if i just do it. But each time i follow through with a compulsion, it makes them harder to ignore in the future. It only lessens the anxiety of the now, but in a way i only postpone the anxiety until i'm not able to follow through with it. And all of a sudden what i only did once or twice a day, becomes the most time-consuming thing in my life. And just like that im stuck, and just the thought of stopping - of not doing it- feels impossible. I just have to"

Regulus has said that when trying to explain his disorder to James.

"Should we put on a timer?" James asks.

Regulus nods.

"How long?"

Regulus thought about it for a moment.

"Two minutes." he finally landed on.

the hulking calms down, and Regulus seems to be able to breathe more slowly.

He was folding clothes, something he hadn't done in a long time due to his ocd. It wouldn't be 'just right' and he would have to do it over and over again. Finally he stopped folding his clothes all together, he just threw the clothes straight from the dryer into the closet. There was some kind of irony in that, something regulus had previously pointed out, that because he couldn't fold his clothes 'perfectly' he would just throw them in the closet instead. His clothes were always wrinkly.

A lot of people assumed that just because he had OCD, he would constantly clean, and be super organized, but he wasn't. Maybe it was like that for some people, but not for him -and probably not for most. And it certainly isn't some sort of superpower, it's exhausting and extremely time consuming.

Starting to fold his clothes again is part of his therapy, ERP-therapy, exposure response prevention. He is supposed to do the tasks, without compulsions, or with the least amount of compulsions possible. It's difficult, extremely anxiety inducing and nerve-wrecking.

"Do you want me to stay by you, or leave you alone?" James asked, completely without judgement, knowing that Regulus was slightly ashamed of his compulsions, and rather wouldn't let people see.

"You can leave." Regulus says, "And I'll come out when the timer runs out."

James nods, even though Regulus was too focused on the clothes in front of him to even see. he was smoothing out wrinkles meticulously.

Just when James stepped out of the room, he could hear Regulus calling out for him.

"Yeah?" he says as he turns around in the doorframe.

Regulus don't look back when he continues.

"Will you be mad at me if I can't do it?" He asks, back still turned towards James, and hands occupied with the clothes.

it was said so softly and in such a vulnerable voice, that james felt his heart break a little.

"No, i will never be mad at you for this." he says softly. "But you're not doing it for me, you're doing it for yourself, and to get better, so it's not about pleasing me, it's about trying to resist the intrusive thoughts."

James knew that Regulus already knew all that, and maybe this one of the times where he wasn't supposed to reassure Regulus, he wasn't sure, but he also didn't want Regulus to do this for anyone other than himself - that wouldn't be helpful for him in the long run either.

Regulus nods, and james leaves and takes a seat in the sofa, trying not to worry too much, and concentrate on his phone instead. He wasn't able to, but he scrolled down the endless feed nonetheless.

When the alarm rings in the room next by, it rings for a while before it stopped. And Regulus doesn't come out.

James stays on the couch. They had discussed everything somewhat beforehand, and james isn't supposed to interfere if Regulus doesn't ask for help.

If he hadn't research before, he knows that he would have been constantly enabling Regulus. He would always try to reassure him and help, and do whatever would make regulus feel better at that time. -and that wouldn't have helped Regulus at resisting the compulsions.

It's still hard not to, because all he wants to do is help Regulus when he's struggling. Make him feel better, make his anxieties go away.

after another minute or two, the alarm rings again. James stares at his phone, not even looking at what's on the screen, just waiting.

And then Regulus steps out of the room, and James feels a wave of pride wash over him. Because Regulus did it. He managed to resist, and put the clothes in the closet even though he really wanted to redo it.

Regulus is still looking quite tense, but he immediately meets James in a hug, and james feels good about being able to finally comfort Regulus.

"Do you wanna go on a walk?" James asks, knowing that Regulus is probably feeling quite uneasy, anxious, and might be needing some distractions.

And so they go on a walk. It's a short one, just around their neighbourhood. It's a path they will come to walk often, because it becomes sort of a routine to go on a walk after Regulus does his 'therapy homework'.

Each time resisting becomes a little bit easier; folding the laundry -or whatever other task that he's obsessing over- and each time it gets a bit quicker, and is a bit less anxiety-inducing. However it's not a straight line to recovery. Sometimes there's a step in the wrong direction, or it's at a long stand-still, but in the end he makes it through. It's not easy though. it's difficult, mentally demanding, and draining, but in the end so worth it.

There comes a time when he's able to do everything on the first try. The thoughts are still there, they just show up less often, and they are less intrusive.

AN:

this is largely based on my own experience with OCD, along with what I've learned by a psychiatrist. My experience of course doesn't reflect how it is for everyone - it's more or less completely individual, as well as what helps, if you or someone you know is struggling, seek professional help!

here's some resources: https://iocdf.org/

[sylveriasarcana]

The Passenger and OCD, or, Randy Bradley and his Weird, Violent Therapist

Hi! As the title implies, I think the 2023 movie 'The Passenger' can be interpreted from the perspective of OCD recovery! And I think Randy Bradley might have OCD! I also think that over the course of the movie, his experiences with Benson help him recover from OCD!

I've got a lot of thoughts about this, and I've put them all under a Read More because of how damn many I have! I hope you enjoy them!

First off; an overview of OCD, then an overview of the most obvious ways in which I believe Randy exhibits OCD symptoms, then a look at Benson and how he carries out a very twisted version of "Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP)", the recommended treatment for OCD.

I hope you enjoy! I might sleep again after this! That'd be neat!

Please note that OCD is very complex and affects each person that has it differently. In this analysis, I refer largely to my own experiences with OCD. They may not reflect your own. Please do not see this as an attempt to explain everything about OCD, or use this to tell other people they don't have OCD because it's not exactly what I'm describing.

(also a lot of this has screenshots of Benson looking at Randy with "wtf" face so hope you enjoy that)

You're Probably Wrong About OCD (Here's What It Is)

Before we start, we need to understand what OCD is. "Oh, that's when you get really stressed out if things aren't clean, right?". No. It's not your fault if you think that, it's how most people think it is, but it's not. Or at least, that's a very simplified version of it. Here's what it actually is.

OCD can manifest as an obsession (or a "theme") followed by a compulsion to try and ease the distress caused by an obsession. These compulsions are usually illogical, an extreme example being "I need take an equal amount of steps on both feet when I'm walking home from work every day or my grandma might die". Themes, as well, are varied. They are sometimes very taboo - for example, one might experience intrusive thoughts along the lines of "what if you caused serious bodily harm to your partner?" or "what if you are secretly a sexual predator?". A compulsion that usually follows these thoughts is rumination, imagining scenarios where these thoughts are correct and you have to defend yourself in court, for example. If you know somebody who experiences themes like these, please understand it is not a reflection of who they are as a person. They are experiencing intrusive, unwanted thoughts, and they need your support, not your judgement.

Now, let's get to Randy's theme - false memory/real event. False Memory OCD is when your brain literally imagines a scenario for you and tells you it's real, usually a very upsetting one, and dares you to prove it wrong. Real Event OCD is when you are feeling immense guilt or shame over a real event that happened in the past which you are now obsessing over, usually in regard to your own morality ("this happened, I'm a bad person, I can never improve, I am defined by this"). The compulsion to "ease" these themes is usually the same; combing through memories to double check every possible detail of this memory to check if it's real/to check if it's as bad as you remember.

Randy is experiencing a combination of these: a real event that has since become twisted in his mind. He DID cause Miss Beard to lose an eye, but she did not crawl towards him on her knees bleeding and screaming after the fact, as shown in the opening scene. There are other logical fallacies to how Randy remembers the event too; for example, he's the only kid in the classroom when he remembers it. This wasn't the case in reality, and he even says this later when he's gained some confidence throughout the movie. But, as previously touched upon before, OCD can rob you of your rationality.

So now you know what OCD is, and why I think Randy has it. How do I know so much about false memory/real event OCD? Well, because I had/have it. More on that later, but first, let's have a look at Randy's journey in The Passenger and some specific moments that signal OCD to me.

"Your name is Bradley Bradley?": Randy and Over-acceptance

OCD can rob you of your ability to trust yourself and your own decisions. In an extreme case, it could even stop you from standing up for yourself in the most basic of circumstances, for example, correcting someone for getting your name wrong. Randy spent a year at Burgers Burgers Burgers wearing the wrong name badge because he didn't want to correct his manager.

When Randy accidentally injured Miss Beard, the lesson he took from it was that nothing good would come from him speaking up for himself or from making his own choices. "The last time I let myself react the way I wanted to, I ruined a person's life". He has since taken this to an extreme degree, and I argue he is following OCD's orders on that one: "you can't correct someone if they get your name wrong or you'll end up ruining their life too".

When Randy's manager finds out he's been using the wrong name for him, he shrugs it off. When Benson finds out:

Benson was a little too busy preparing to berate a service worker to respond to this (justice for Marsha), but you can imagine the thought process here is, "you let us all call you the wrong name for a year?".

That does not seem rational, does it? But here's the thing: OCD doesn't let you be rational sometimes.

"What are you saying to me? What are you trying to say?": Randy and Irrationality

This is also related to over-acceptance; OCD robs Randy of the ability to think rationally. This is especially noticeable when Lisa is first brought up. Benson asks why Randy and Lisa broke up, and Randy says "her cat died".

Benson has a similar response to what ours likely is: what the hell????

Of course we know that someone's cat dying is not a reason to break up with their significant other (unless it's an Angela and Dwight situation, RIP Sprinkles), but Randy is so deep in OCD and over-acceptance that this IS logical to him. He does not trust himself to think of that situation as irrational. He probably thinks something like "oh, getting dumped because her pet died is probably normal". He doesn't even ask anyone else if it's normal, he's just accepted it as something that has happened to him and makes no effort to challenge or change it, because by OCD's rules, if he does what he wants to do and asks further questions, he's going to ruin someone's life. That's what happened last time, and we don't want to repeat what happened last time, do we?

Ergo, through over-acceptance and irrationality adopted through the presence of OCD, "we broke up because her cat died" becomes a completely logical life event in Randy's world. Can't question it, a bad thing will happen if you question it.

But Benson questions it! A lot! This will be important when discussing Benson's approach to ERP, but first, let's talk about OCD and responsibility.

The Shooting: Randy and Responsibility

Here's one of my least favourite parts about OCD: the way it assigns responsibility to you for everything bad that happens. I can't even read the news without my OCD blaming me for whatever the criminal of today's headlines did. Don't even get me started on YouTuber and influencer drama; my OCD loves accusing me of those guys' crimes!

My heart breaks so much for Randy during the shooting, especially on a rewatch: there is no way he's not blaming himself for what happened.

He's the one that spoke up and asked Chris to stop making him uncomfortable, and following a chain of events, Benson shot Chris and everyone in the restaurant except for Randy. This is never confirmed, but seeing Randy after it happens, all I can think is "oh God. He's blaming himself."

Randy says later that the only time he let himself react the way he wants to, he ruined a person's life. Randy has just let himself react the way he wanted to. Now three people are dead.

We are, of course, not in control of how others respond to our actions. Randy asked Chris to stop making him uncomfortable, he did not take a gun and shoot three people dead. That was Benson. But I really do think Randy sees himself as a little responsible here, and that breaks my heart. To him, his worst fear just came true, his OCD has been proven right: he can't speak up for himself or he ruins lives.

But here's the thing; exposing yourself to your worst fears is exactly how you overcome OCD. This is where Benson the weird, violent therapist comes in.

"Do you see what happens when you do nothing?": Benson and Exposure and Response Prevention

Benson might have the most "don't try this at home" method of this therapy I've ever encountered, but there's no denying he got the job done!

In order to recover from OCD, you have to do "exposures". You have to expose yourself to what you are afraid of in order to train OCD to stop using it to scare you. For example, if OCD has convinced you that you can't touch a certain object for fear of getting a disease from it that you then spread to your entire family and kill them all, the solution is to get your hands ALL OVER that object, and then not wash your hands. That's the "response prevention" part. Another "response" could be reassurance seeking; for example, if you touch the object and then immediately ask everyone if you look like you're getting sick. Reassurance seeking is very discouraged in OCD recovery, as is reassurance giving.

What Randy has to do to overcome his OCD theme is accept what happened, and not engage with rumination. Accept that it happened, but that the world kept going, and that nothing good is going to come from robbing himself of his own life because of something that happened in the past.

Extreme violence and several crimes aside, this is exactly what Benson does for Randy.

Randy, in his mind, began the chain of events that caused the shooting. Of course, this isn't the case; Benson was on the absolute brink and this is just what caused him to snap. But here's the thing: unintentionally, and in a very fucked up way, Benson exposed Randy to what he was afraid of. And prevented a response.

Randy spoke up for himself, and three people got shot. Lives are ruined, just like OCD always told him would happen. Benson doesn't immediately tell him why he's just shot three people - he doesn't offer reassurance. He lets Randy sit with the thought. Randy has no choice but to accept what has happened, whether it was his fault or not.

Here's an example of Benson straight up denying Randy the chance to seek reassurance. Consider the diner scene again:

Randy: What does this have to do with me? [subtext: "Would the shooting have happened if not for me?]

Benson: You mean why are you here right now? [subtext: "We're not doing reassurance right now. Here's what I actually think you need to hear."]

OCD was right, as far as Randy knows. Benson isn't disputing this. And yet, the world kept turning. Exposure number one.

You can already see Randy get a little bit of confidence after this event. In the car on the way to Benson's, Randy tells Benson that his mother had him repeat the 2nd grade, and when Benson gives him a speech about needing to stand up for himself, Randy says "I was only seven".

Randy has probably never spoken that way to anyone in his life, let alone someone he just saw commit a homicide. He has CERTAINLY never defended himself for past actions based on his young age at the time, either; he's spent most of his life torturing himself over something he did when he was seven. But suddenly, the irrational brutality of OCD is cracking a little, and he can see: he was only seven. In a fucked up way, being exposed to his worst fear via the shooting has allowed Randy to see through the haze of OCD, if only for a little while, and realise what everyone else can see: he was only a child. This confidence continues to grow throughout the movie, leading to a moment where Randy feels brave enough to approach Benson, who is waving a gun around in a state of despair and anguish, and manages to convince him not to fire it. This is very different from the Randy we saw at the beginning of the movie, and I argue it's through Benson's exposures that he got there.

Benson continues to put Randy in very high-stress situations, confronting Lisa and then going to visit Miss Beard, the source of his current and most debilitating OCD theme, and in reality this would not be an ideal way to deal with it. It's too much too soon (graded exposure is the way to go in reality), and if this was real life, Randy would probably end his day with Benson feeling much, much worse than he did before due to sheer overstimulation. But this is a movie, and we're with these characters for a day. In the course of that day, I argue we see a really good fictionalised version of OCD recovery.

The way Benson reacts to Randy throughout the movie is really interesting to me. He not only challenges Randy's OCD-influenced thoughts in a way Randy has never allowed himself to ("what, she said 'I can't date you because my cat died?'"), but often finds a middle ground between reassurance and agreeing with OCD. For example, Benson often reacts with laughter when given details on Randy's "2nd grade incident". This may not be the most sensitive or ideal middle ground (and other Tumblr users have argued given Benson's own experiences when he was around Randy's age, he's laughing more in relief than dismissal), but it is certainly a middle ground. Plus, when Randy's OCD sees Benson responding to Randy's worst ever deed with laughter, resembling joy, OCD may be inspired to leave Randy alone a little regarding haunting flashbacks to a twisted version of what actually happened. OCD doesn't expect that response, and that has the potential to reroute Randy's obsessive thought patterns.

And then, there's the actions Benson carries out to make Randy actually do exposures and prevent avoidance behaviours (Benson is, of course, mostly preventing Randy from avoiding exposures through the act of having a gun, but you know). Randy has been avoiding asking Lisa why she broke up with him, because OCD has convinced him he doesn't need a reason and that things are just allowed to happen to him. Benson makes Randy ask her. Randy is afraid to see Miss Beard again, for fear that she hates him and that he will find her with a ruined life. Benson facilitates their reunion, and Randy finds out that his OCD was lying to him. While Benson has gone about it in a hostage-situation kinda way, over the course of a day, Randy has done everything he's spent years being too afraid to do. Benson gave Randy fucked up ERP. Benson is his weird, violent therapist.

But, this isn't all. Benson gave Randy his weird version of help because he did not think Randy would ever be brave enough to stand up for himself against Benson. But he was.

Interlude: This Seems Not Very Straight

If you're somehow on Tumblr reading about The Passenger and don't know this, this movie is often interpreted as queer. And just to clear up my stance on that: yes. Of course it is.

"Oh but Randy says he's not gay!". Yeah, so did the guys from Brokeback Mountain. Means nothing to me. I'm Roland Barthes-ing this movie enough already, why WOULDN'T I be for making it gay?

source. if no one else got me, Kyle Gallner got me.

So, back to my mental illness!

"I was never in charge, Randy": Benson is a Passenger, Too

Here's a difficult truth: if you are constantly telling your friend that they have to stand up for themselves, and they need to be more assertive, once they learn those skills, they will 100% use them on you if you have mistreated them or others, and you have to be prepared for that. Benson was not.

Benson is probably the closest thing Randy has ever had to a meaningful relationship that wasn't a relative, and vice versa. Both characters become deeply important to each other throughout the film, but there's still a lot of toxicity there. Benson may be helping Randy do exposures, but he is also constantly punching him and ordering him around at gunpoint. Randy recognises this behaviour as not being right from the start, hence how terrified he looks in the beginning, but isn't about to visibly get mad at the guy holding the gun. (Though I will say, the moments where Randy allows himself a moment to fix Benson with a cold, hard "why are you doing this to me" glare are magical. He looks so mad. Little angry cat look.).

But Benson "creates a monster". Over the course of the movie, Randy's confidence grows little by little the more time he spends with Benson, the more time he spends confronting his past, and eventually that works against Benson. Randy calls the cops on him, and I urge you to pay attention to Randy's reaction after he does it.

Randy can't believe he's done it. Benson can't believe he did it; later, when he's looking for who called the cops, he doesn't even consider Randy, who was the only one that could have. It's just so unbelievable to him that Randy would do this; it does not line up with the person Randy was in the beginning of this movie.

Randy did it; he's finally brave enough to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. He doesn't want it to come at Benson's expense, and you can see that in this scene as well, and later when he calls out to Benson when the latter is headed out to face the cops. It's switching between joy and fear; the adrenaline that comes from doing what you're afraid to do as a person with OCD cannot be understated. The high is incredible, but the fear that comes with it is overwhelming. All of that is portrayed here.

And then Randy goes out and says, "Benson, I need to talk to you". Not "we need to talk". Randy prioritises himself and his needs. He's brave enough to do that now. And he says all sorts of things that Benson doesn't want to hear; "there's no point to what you're doing", and that for all Benson's talk about taking risks and standing up, he has barely left the town he grew up in all day, even though he has a very good reason to (Benson is currently on the lam). Randy has realised that perhaps Benson needs to practice what he preaches and do a little more of what he's afraid to do.

And Benson doesn't appreciate it at first. "Who the fuck are you to talk to me like this, after everything I've done for you?!" This is the first and most obvious response, "I helped you, you're not supposed to use that help against me! I'm in charge!"

And then, once it becomes clear that Randy used what he learned from Benson to drum up the courage to call the cops, the real response comes:

"I was never in charge, Randy."

The audience has very recently learned that Benson too suffered a terrible trauma as a child. It is not one that is as easily fixable as Randy's. It's damaged Benson too much, and Benson has known this whole time that he can't really fix it or himself. He damned himself with the shooting at the fast food restaurant. He snapped and can't go back. All he's known for sure is that he could help Randy. One last good deed.

Benson is a passenger, too. Benson was under the command of his own trauma this whole time, just like Randy. The difference was that Randy internalised his and punished himself, while Benson externalised his and he exploded like a grenade. Randy was maybe ten years and a few bad nights of sleep from doing something similar; Benson saw that and tried to stop it.

And that's the kicker: everyone is someone's passenger, even Benson was a passenger in the end. But in his own fucked up way, Benson broke the cycle: he fixed Randy. No matter what happens now, he went out having helped someone.

Benson is a weird, violent therapist. But he got results!

"Thanks, for... thank you": Life 'After' OCD

The reality is that with OCD, once it's done with one theme, it'll usually just move onto another. That's what happened to me; once I'd confronted my original false memory/real event, OCD just moved onto something else. But you know what? I was ready for it. And so was Randy.

No matter what way you swing it, you cannot deny that the life Randy has at the end of this movie likely would not have happened without Benson.

If you asked Randy at the beginning of this movie to play the eraser game with you, he probably would have thrown up on the spot just from the stress of you possibly knowing about what he'd done. And here he is, playing it with Miss Beard's daughter, someone he couldn't even imagine existed because having a daughter would have meant Miss Beard had a life after the incident, something he could never comprehend under OCD's spell. Randy tells his mother as he's leaving Miss Beard's house that he's going to get dinner with his friends. He has friends! They probably know his real name! Because he's brave enough to tell them!

And the thing is, you can see Randy appreciate this, and appreciate Benson. He hasn't forgotten Benson; the stuffed animals they made sit proudly among Miss Beard's daughter's playthings. Randy says 'thank you' to Miss Beard, for forgiving him and for allowing him the chance to move on, and I like to think the 'thank you' was also for Benson, too; Benson's methods may have been... unique, to say the least, but you can't deny the results!

Conclusion

I could not believe what I was seeing when I first saw The Passenger. There I was, in the dark depths of OCD, terrified to tell people about my false memory/real event themes for fear of being shunned and rejected or (because OCD likes to get irrational) imprisoned. But then I saw this movie, I saw this character, in the depths just like I was. And I'd never seen anything like it before. I couldn't stop crying. Someone made an OCD recovery movie. With queer undertones, no less! I was being well fed indeed!

And then, Benson reached over and wiped a tear from Randy's cheek and gently told him that he shouldn't be punishing himself for what happened. And then I thought, should I still be punishing myself? I got therapy. And I confessed my own false memory/real event to my therapist. And she didn't call the cops. She didn't yell obscenities at me. She comforted me. She taught me how to heal, and how to live. Without punching me in the stomach outside an elementary school! Didn't know OCD therapists could do that!

I interpret this movie as fucked up ERP. Like, really fucked up ERP. Violence and murder and abusive boyfriends ERP. But, this is the movie that helped me get the help I need. I wouldn't change a thing about it. Someone made it in a lab for me, and I'm so, so grateful. My weird little mentally ill gay movie. I cannot thank it enough.

And I cannot thank you enough for reading this!

[usernamesarehard1]

I feel like we don't talk enough about Call's backstory. I mean, it was really tragic and set the stage for all of his emotional turmoil throughout the series.

He lives in a town where his dad is considered crazy/insane/etc, and so everyone assumes that Call is crazy too or that Alastair is causing some kind of harm to him.

Adults and children alike hate him solely because they don't understand him. He is literally physically and verbally attacked and beaten constantly by his classmates for being disabled and for being "weird", and the teachers do nothing about it. Like he actually canoncially experiences constant abuse

And then he gets home and he can't even really open up to his dad, the ONLY person in his life, because Alastair is so emotionally closed off due to his own traumas. And then he has to worry about Alastair instead of worrying about himself.

Like, Call was literally traumatized and thought that he was an awful person because everyone told him he was and physically punished him for his existence.

And I am in no way an expert on any psychological disorders but when I have read about the basics of certain ones, it would not surprise me if Call would be diagnosed with some of them irl. Like when I was researching "quiet bpd" at one point it sounded just like Call to me. He has no sense of person identity and tears himself down inside thinking he is a terrible person, while simultaneously going back and forth between putting his friends on a pedestal and distrusting them entirely. And we see in the books how he is very clingy to Aaron and Tamara, especially Aaron, and has to use them as a safety net for himself. And how he is just constantly terrified of abandonment, especially by Aaron and Tamara. And how he isolated himself so much and struggles to process or express his emotions.

And when I read a bit about ODD (oppositional defiance disorder) I sounded similar to Call. Like, Call does seem to have a distrust for and rejection of authority in the beginning of the series, which makes sense because the authority in his life (teachers, etc) only put him down for struggling. It isn't until he realizes Rufus has his best interests at heart (most of the time) that be begins to trust him, but he is still very wary of the other Masters and Assembly members. And from what I have read ODD tends to primarily affect children and becomes easier to move past as they get older so Call slowly becoming more trusting of authority over the course of the books makes sense.

(Sorry if I didn't explain those things well, it's very indepth in my brain but hard to put into words)

Obviously these two diagnoses are very broad spectrums but it would not surprise me if Call feel somewhere on them.

And then of course Call obviously has social anxiety and depression in the books. And it would not surprise me if he had some sort of PTSD going into the Magisterium based on his upbringing. And I have seen a few people say that his Evil Overlord List could be a sign of a specific type of OCD.

Like, Call was a KID. This was the only world he ever knew. In his most impressionable years he knew nothing but hate from people outside his family and very limited emotional support or connection inside his family.

Again, I'm no expert on any of these things. I just have basic info, but when I did learn immediately made me think of Call. Tbh I feel anxious about posting this because I'm terrified I have something wrong here or that i am misremembering something. I just wanted to share the connections my brain made.

I really wish the books had more about Call's friendship with Aaron and Tamara helping all of them to start heal through each other's comfort since none of them ever really had that emotional support prior to each other.

And tbh I'm kinda surprised Rufus didn't notice a lot of what was going on with Call. I really wish the books had delved into that more rather than having Rufus get mad at Call for his trauma responses.

Also, what happens when Call goes home during the summer (especially when Aaron wasn't there)? Was he attacked again? Was he verbally harassed again? Did he return to the Magisterium with bruises or anything? The books did say that he would often have injures from the attacks by his classmates (I remember them mentioning a black eye, split lip, and bandaged arm in one flashback).

I have just been thinking about it a lot recently.

[unrestrained-balderdash-art-blog]

Going on a Riddler fanart break

I'm having a break from posting Riddler fanart to Tumblr. The backlog will still be posted on Cara and Instagram (both @ tbalderdash), and if the break is long enough for it to catch up I will post things made during the break on there before Tumblr. I will still be posting bird art here. I will still post fanart for other fandoms here if I make any (I am currently undecided about non-Riddler DC). The break will be for at least a month. I will probably come back when the OCD medication has kicked in for a bit. Thank you for all of the support on the last post. I don't want to take a break, but I have to for my mental health.

"Organised" ramble about reasoning (this is heavily influenced by neurodivergence/mental illness and I am not trying to sound like an entitled/ungrateful twat. I don't want to guilt trip anyone, please don't feel guilty):

The Timezone Curse: Tumblr has a reverse-chronological dashboard. I am British. I live earlier than the majority of the userbase. I have no idea what time to post things so they don't get buried. Recently I've tried to stop waiting for the exact right minute to post things, as it doesn't stop them from flopping.

Likes vs Reblogs, (and OCD?): I will preface this and say: a lot of this is my brain's fault. Since Likes don't do anything to spread things, my brain gets upset when things keep getting Liked without Reblogged. Unless it is from a bird fan on the fanart, better artist, or irl friend, Likes mean nothing to me. I know this is silly and irrational, but I can't help it and this is the main reason why my brain is suffering posting fanart. I hope medication will fix my feelings. Additionally, OCD brain keeps trying to find a reason: Am I dislikable? Is my art bad? Does it have no appeal? Is it aphobia? Did I do something cancellable without knowing and now everyone hates me? I (think I) know the answer is people just don't use this website that way, but my brain is never sure. This is why I don't have the problem on the other websites, every like helps the algorithm and actually means something in my brain

The combination of the Timezone Curse and lack of reblogs means my art often gets barely any reach (or reach my brain deems meaningful). I desperately want to feel like part of the Riddler fandom community. Unfortunately, due to Tumblr making me suffer (overwhelmed by compulsive need to scroll entire dash, repulsed aroace, and simple posts being able to make me ruminate unpleasantly for a long time) I find it very hard to follow new blogs or connect with people on this site. I love birds, but I need Riddler interaction. I can't look at much fandom on other sites, as they have barely any/no tag filtering, which means I will suffer if I look for him.

Why it's just fanart and not birds affected by this: I started off as a fanartist with no expectation to get big with birds, so I had a que sera sera attitude and I post them whenever they're ready, I didn't expect to get big. I am more fulfilled when it comes to the bird interest (more community interaction + every day can have different birds out there + people in my real life are interested in birds). Additionally, the bird art spreads a lot more (due to bird blogs reblogging). Bird art is my "job" art (it is where I plan to make money from) whereas Riddler is where my passion lies the most (I still love the birds but I have many other ways of interacting with them without needing art). This means I get more emotionally invested in the Riddler art than the bird art

Is art becoming a compulsion? This applies to the birds as well, but since they're "job art" it doesn't matter too much. I keep being worried about not posting enough Riddler art, and feelings of social media sometimes overshadow the joy of creating - I keep thinking about posting, rather than doing. I get too anxious to make art that is "unpostable" (eg: self-insert and him hugging), especially due to the fact I'm trying to get more professional. I feel like there's more I want to expand on this but it's been too long and I'm tired. This break might help me do more high-quality art instead of having to churn it out out of fear of everyone forgetting me.

Sorry for all the text. I don't know if I've explained everything very well but it's been an hour and usually if I post something after 8 it fails, which I don't usually want to worry about but it's a bit important for an announcement like this

[grapejuicegay]

A... rather personal defense of Pran

I've seen a lot of people being confused about Pran's behaviour and rather upset by him. But like @waitmyturtles said in their review, "I see Pran dealing with something really complicated." Which, yes. That's what this post is about. I just don't think it's about Singapore.

It's about Pran's OCD. I think there was a consensus last week with the way Pran talked about it that it was a recent diagnosis. And I think this episode just confirmed that for me.

This is where the personal part begins - I was diagnosed with OCD in 2020, in the very first few months of covid. When I told people about it I got about the same response that we had to Pran - it's not surprising but it's good that it's an official diagnosis now.

Such a diagnosis is almost a relief when you get it because suddenly a lot of things start making sense. But it also comes with a very fun challenge - learning to deal with it. Because while you understand why you get so much more anxious and overthink more than most people, you're also suddenly more aware of your thought patterns. You have to be, to find a way to work through them, to not give into the intrusive thoughts. But looking at the intrusive thoughts is one of the best ways to let them take over. You do have to look at them though, because you have to learn to recognise them. Because you cannot deal with them until you do. It's a rough cycle.

I was a few years older than Pran when I was diagnosed, and in a very different place in my life. The pandemic that we didn't know a lot about at that time looming over our heads did not help my anxiety, but the lockdown gave me something really special - time and space to work through it all. I wasn't in college so I didn't have the constant looming threat of deadlines and figuring out my future in that very moment. I also didn't have the very unique set of stressors Pran lives with - friends and family from whom you're hiding a relationship that if revealed could potentially lead to very severe consequences, consequences that in the past have been the worst of his anxieties come to life. Nor a relationship to maintain while being overtly aware at all times that this is not the kind of relationship your partner would really want, that they're only in this because of you.

And there is the sacrifice of it all. There is the thing that keeps coming up again and again - that Pat does so much for him. That Pat helps him all the time, that Pat's sacrificed so much for him, that Pran isn't sure he's good enough or ever will be.

Add to that the regular reminders from Pat that he overthinks. They're meant in a very good way and they do help in the moment, I'm not denying that at all. But it's also a fact that Pran struggles with. It adds to his concern that he's a burden on Pat with the way he thinks, that Pat has to do so much work because of Pran's brain, something Pat had no say over (something Pran had no say over but it's harder to see it like that in the moment).

I've had my diagnosis for the past 3 years now. And it hasn't been until the past year that I've finally started feeling confident in myself and my ability to regulate my anxiety, to finally start feeling like I have control over my brain. Because as much as knowing the diagnosis helps, the work you have to do afterwards is no joke.

So yes, Pran is going through something very heavy, but it's not the prospect of going to Singapore (I don't believe that exists just yet, but it's coming soon). Pran is in the process of figuring out how to make his brain work in his favour instead of actively against him. He's learning to rely on people when he needs to while fighting off constant reminders that he's a burden.

And we've seen Pran make a lot of progress. Any points at which he talks about being anxious are progress. Any time he lets himself be upset is progress. Any time time he says any of his worries out loud (even if he can't say them directly to Pat yet), he has fought his way through who knows how many intrusive thoughts to get to that point. And in the same regard - he probably feels guilty about having Pat say "I can't live without you" first. Because he's likely just as aware that Pat has done so much for him that this is just another thing he's adding on top of that.

But - and I think this is very big - he knows that he needs Pat to say it first, to give him permission to feel this, that this isn't too much for him to ask for. This is him asking for help to express himself when he feels like too much. It helps them both in the long run. And I do think it's a very important step to get what we saw in ep 12 - a Pran that demands love, that demands to be babied. This is him giving himself permission through the hardest part of learning his diagnosis.

I love that we get this between ep 11 and 12 because with this ep 12 also becomes a hug, a way of telling us things may be rough for him but he gets through it. He'll get where he needs to be, wants to be. Just give him some time. Because just like with the parents, sometimes time is just what you need.