#Told my psych about my extreme levels of anxiety and she was like “So when did the paranoia start?”

[skullshoal]

doctors be diagnosing me with problems.

[vtforpedro]

life update - long

It took me a hot minute to find the last update. December, I guess? I'm so tired I never stop being tired and time is not real anymore. Anyway. Disability Stuff: I won my case in federal court in February. They said it'd take a year so I was a little hm. Found out the SSA voluntarily asked the judge for the remand because the written decision was indefensible and they were gonna take another look. Pros: Hey, I won! I get a second hearing! Cons: I didn't get a brief written by the federal law firm because there was no time. This is actually a tactic used by the SSA. I have no doubt they're fine tuning another denial. I also have to wait for the lower level court to figure out what was so bad about it (that they'd already ruled was perfect) to give to the judge I will have another hearing with. The same judge. Who said I was a liar multiple times and omitted eight months of medical evidence and said mental health issues are subjective hahaha. I hate this country. Health: Boy howdy it's been better and worse. I had the tilt table test in late December, went... ok enough, but my neuro didn't like how ambiguous the report was and sent me back to them to speak to an autonomic disorder specialist. Scheduled in Jan, just had my appt with her this month lol she is busy. She ordered: genetics test, labs, and skin biopsy. I've done the first two, third is scheduled in July and I'm gonna be a mess because needles u_u Brain stuff is much of the same. Episodic. Manageable times are a godsend, bad times are really bad. My heart started to do some funky ass shit a few months ago. My mom kept writing it off as anxiety no matter how much I explained that it felt like my heart was pounding after exercise. My BP and pulse shot up high for a while and b/c my pulse never came back down and it was interfering with, you know, living, my PCP sent me to cardiology. :') Cause I wanted my heart involved in this mess One 24hr holter monitor, echo, and heart ultrasound later, and I have a new heart condition. He said 'your heart is beating so fast you would normally see it with exercise' bada boom baby and has nothing to do with fucking ANXIETY >:[ I'm on heart medication. 10 meds. I need to start another med for my psych but that's 11 and I'm honestly getting upset because it's so fucking much medication in one day but every single one of them is necessary so what can really I do? Personal: Relationship with my mom is at an all time low. This is extremely unfortunate because a few weeks ago, my mom told me she is basically being 'laid off' (she's not losing her job for a while, just retiring earlier than expected) and I have to leave my home of 10 years by mid-August. Got no sympathy from her about it *finger guns* I've gone through the devastation of that and am kind of just stuck in how is any of that gonna work. My brother and I can't live together, so he's gonna move into a family friend's rental. Except he has no job and hasn't been able to get one in months. He started one on Monday, is gonna leave by Friday because it's horrific ig. Anyway my mom promises he won't be there. We have to move based on my disabilities and my mom's house is gonna have to reflect what we have here. I'll see it when I believe it. I don't trust her anymore. Extra unfortunate that I'm gonna be living 24/7 with my mother who has been an abusive person in my life the past two years. The short break thru the day that my apartment is just mine, quiet and gentle, is gonna be gone. I'll be introducing my solitary 11 year old cat Lilly into a house with 3 other cats. She only knew Isis her entire life. She was just diagnosed with neuro issues this year after going through an MRI. We don't know if she has seizure activity or if it's movement disorder, but the med she's on treats both and she has gotten better. Same process Isis went through. Cannot believe I have two cats with neuro issues and likely the same one. May 18th was one year since Isis passed. Rough, tiring day.

I don't know how it has been that long. Feels like it just happened. I can still see her and feel her through my apartment and losing it in August will probably shatter me most because of losing the last place she existed in. I miss her more than I can say.

She was my little soulmate and her absence is felt in every corner here. Writing/Fandom:

I went through a whole fucking situation over in the Stranger Things fandom that has left me not wanting to post anymore. Idk if neuro shit has destroyed my ability to write but it's humiliating and painful every time I post a fic.

I posted stucky (1 out of 2 fics this year) on my main acct and lost 8 fuckin user subs? Like goddamn. What'd stucky do 😭 anyway it was even more devastating and kinda like 'here's your big ass sign to keep your writing to yourself.'

Between the god awful shit that happened in the ST fandom and my inability to put together even a good one shot, I'm feeling really down about one of two creative things I can do in my life. I used to love sharing my stuff. I want to write and share but it feels like it's harming my MH. I can't draw or paint right now, either. And I can barely move around my apartment without pain. I can't even leave it except for doctor appointments.

Idk. Very walls are closing in type of feeling and I hate it. In short: I'm tired, struggling, and too many things are happening at once. I love you all 😩💜 thank you for your patience and love and kind words. Your support is felt through one update to the next. I hope you're all well and I'm sending all my love and hugs to you.

[kitchenrat2-0system]

Today was not a good day. I found out the job I was supposed to begin with fake. And I don't mean fake, as in, " this is a fake company ", I mean fake as in real company, real job listing, was never going to be filled.

I feel like such a failure for this. I feel like I should have been a better host for this. I feel like I should have seen this coming and not stopped applying. As it stands I have wasted 9 days as far as the job search goes. And I am now desperate to pay rent. There is one charity in town which I can call, and I've taken out an emergency loan with a ridiculous payment plan. I feel stupid for getting us in debt. My mom came through and offered us a credit card with a $500 limit on it in order to at least keep us housed. If it weren't for her I would be literally shaking apart with anxiety right now.

In addition to that, I have, unfortunately, come face to face with the phenomenon of white people teaming up when one of them cries even when it makes no sense, or they shouldn't be. I told my roommate to stop interrupting me mid conversation because she kept making stupid asides and interrupting people and I was trying to say something important, and all three of them just had a game night along with their friends that I already know, and no one invited me.

So I feel like even though I just moved in with these folks and my chances here are already dead. I feel like I fucked that up even though I know that my boundaries are not to be crossed when I went out to get milk, literally nobody said anything to me and I caught some people doing the sneaky glance thing.

I wound up having a two and a half hour phone call with one friend that helped a lot with all of this but it's still a painful on the job aspect and annoying on the roommate aspect. That's okay though because as it turns out no one's better at sitting calmly during passive aggressive attempts than me.

All you have to do is pretend like you actually don't understand this level of subtext even though it's obvious. Basically the person will jump to provide you an explanation that explains their behavior to you but that doesn't give away what they were actually doing. The problem is they're just telling me a half story there, and I'm extremely empathetic. You can't talk a hole in a conversation without me figuring out that there is one even if I don't know how to look at it directly.

I kind of went back into my past a bit today and recalled what happened with the people who wound up helping me get out of the slow slide into death I was doing with my ex fiance. They wound up putting me in a psych ward, then pigeon holding me into going to fort worth, then basically abandoned me there to figure out my s*** even though I was physically incapable of working at the time and I was mentally desolated.

Speaking of desolated, I went to the mountain today and found that the area underneath was still extremely scarred and raw. To back up, the mountain is the machine that we run all of our logic and reasoning with it basically processes all of our ideas it catches our internal biases it runs checks for that jokes, implications that we might miss otherwise, etc.

Back when I went to the psych ward the area under the mountain was freshly destroyed and I thought that with time and with healing it would go away, but the area is still ugly it looks like a permanent scar on our psyche. And I don't know what to do about this, I don't really know what to do about anything inside the inner world anymore. C and W are still absent from the tower and so it is extremely quiet. It is still storming outside in the green space, so I know that whatever is going on with Kay isn't over yet.

I think what got me about today is that it's exhausting. And I'm so exhausted at this point that my passive suicidality has started to increase. And I know that this is incredibly dangerous territory for both the entire system and for me in particular. I have never once gone dormant and I'm not entirely sure what happens if I do. I'm not entirely sure I will come back out. I don't think I will. The system values stability and a change in host means an extreme instability that won't be simply fixed overnight.

But right now I'm so exhausted that I just want to never wake up. And I don't know what to do about this. I get no support from the inner world. I get the support that I can Garner from the outer world, but when all of your friendships are based on what you can't do in order to not be replaced, it's a risky move every time. I don't really know what to do with myself. I can't really take a lower paying job because I'll drop us in Texas I can't really take a higher paying job because they literally won't hire me.

So I guess back to the drawing board and hopefully I will not put my head through it.

[midnxghtsunwrites]

“ IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT ”

PAIRING —

andy barber x black! pregnant! reader

SUMMARY —

y/n knew something was wrong the moment she woke up with blood soaked sheets and a tightness in her chest.

WARNINGS —

this imagine will contain possibly extremely triggering content such as mentions of infertility, pregnancy irregularities, loss of pregnancy ( stillborn pregnancy ) , explicit language, sadness, and possible anxiety & depression under the cut

proceed with caution, viewer discretion is advised.

IT wasn't the cool draft of breeze flowing from the vent or the soft hum of the AC that woke you up from your sleep. It wasn't Andy shifting on his side of the bed or the loftiness of your two pillows or the fact that your bonnet slid off during the night.

What made you stir was the long forgotten sensation of something running down your inner thigh — the sinking feeling in your belly. Of course, you've felt it before when you were far from pregnant and set to start your period. Usually, however, you would have a gut feeling the night before which often prompted you to wear a pad to bed.

Tonight was different.

You stuck to just panties as pajamas since pregnancy made you hot when you're supposed to be cold and cold when you're supposed to be hot.

When you switch on the lamp on your side of the bed, Andy is spurred awake by the snap of the switch and the sudden influx of light. Since he was laying flat on his back, he just turns his head to look at you with squinted eyes, still adjusting to the brightness.

He furrows his eyebrows as he takes in the look of worry on your face. He knows you well enough to see that you're freaking out internally.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He begins to sit up, "Is it the baby?"

You don't want to look. You don't want to give yourself less faith than you already have. You can't look.

You've already endured years and years of being told that you would never have a child — and the one moment of happiness you got when you found out you were pregnant with your husband's baby is being stripped away. Just like that.

"I think I'm bleeding." Your voice shakes as you speak.

Andy was always the level-headed one in the relationship. Five years of being together and three years of marriage taught you that. You've seen him through his highest highs and lowest lows — lost cases and cases that kept him up at nights. But you have never seen him so panicked at something you said.

Even though his body language screams alarm, his voice is level and calm. "Okay, let's go to the hospital. I'll call ahead."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration, "Okay." You whisper.

THE gel is cold against your stomach, shocking you into reality. You listen for the sound of your baby's heartbeat — the one that will let you know that everything is okay.

Everyone seems to be frozen as your gynecologist shifts the wand along your smooth bump. When the room is deathly silent, the only sound to be heard is your heavy exhale, Andy shakes his head, distress on his face.

"What does this..." He can't even finish his sentence. You squeeze your eyes shut. "Why can't we hear a heartbeat?"

Dr. Moore gives her patients sympathetic glances — this is the last thing she would ever wish on any woman. "I'm sorry, Andy, Y/N. It seems... Your baby doesn't have a heartbeat."

It felt like you were struck by an entire planet. Your thought maybe you didn't hear her properly. "What?"

The doctor bows her head in shame, "I am very sorry. Your baby died in utero a couple of hours ago."

Her words seem to be blocked out as you shake you head profusely. You can't breathe, you can't see, you can't even function. You felt it.

"This cannot be happening." You mumble under your breath. This doesn't feel real. Your cheeks are stained with tears at the news.

Andy is by your side, running a hand over your hair that you barely managed to pull back before you entered the hospital. He's holding back tears, but watching you break was enough for him to allow a tear to roll down his red face.

"I'm going to give you guys some time. A nurse will be in soon to discuss your options with you. I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Barber." Dr. Moore reiterates one final time before leaving you to grieve.

When she closes the door behind her, you take no time to grab on to Andy's hand and curl into him. He rests his hand on the back of your head as you sob into his shoulder.

"I know, baby. I know. I'm right here."

ANDREW was right there when the doctors induced your labor. He was right there when you had to endure a painful delivery to your baby girl. Your beautiful baby girl. He was there when you held her for the first and last time. He was there for the next week when you'd decided to stay in the hospital, needing time to come to terms with how quickly everything happened.

With just a picture of her captivating face as a memento, you guys went home. Without your baby.

You felt frozen — stuck in your mind, thinking of what it would've been like had things gone differently. You would be walking in your house with a car seat and a sleeping or babbling baby, a wide smile on your face. Andy would've been absolutely amazed at what you two had made.

Now? You don't even know how you walked out of the hospital or into the house without breaking down and getting yourself admitted into psych.

You're fixed to the threshold of the door — you couldn't move even if you wanted to, struck by a sudden wave of melancholy. All you can think of is the talks you and Andy had about your shared excitement.

"Honey." Andy's voice draws you back to earth. He's stood behind you, going through his own tide of emotions.

He couldn't even imagine the toll this is having on you.

You close your eyes and lean forward, the palms of your hands pressing against the door jamb. "I just need a minute."

"Okay." Andy nods in understanding, resorting to rubbing your back, gingerly.

Moments pass before you finally step into the house, your breathing shallow with anticipation. Andrew is close behind you, eyeing you cautiously and lovingly. He just wants to hold you, but he knows you need some time to yourself.

That's why he simply nods when you suggest that you should go take a shower and lay down.

"I'll make you some food." He tells you.

Your footsteps seem to echo against the walls seeing as you kept your shoes on. You weren't sure you had the energy to care about tracking dirt inside.

Entering the bedroom, you're overwhelmed with a surge of anger and disappointment.

The bed hadn't been touched since the night you went to the hospital and now you can see the sheet is strewn in the center of the mattress, a pool of long-since dried blood staring at you — "Fuck," You run a hand through your matted hair.

Part of you gets to scrubbing because how else would you take the nap you told Andy about? The other part wants to scrub away the reminder of that night. The panic and pure fear in your veins — in Andy's.

On your knees, sleeves rolled up, and fatigue ramming through you like a train, you attempt to wash away the painful memory. No matter how much elbow grease you put into it, the stain doesn't budge.

Thoughts flood your mind — is this a punishment? Am I getting punished for all the harmless things I've done in my life?

You press down further, sinking the springs in the mattress. The frustration is clear in your gaze — exasperated sighs escaping you. You're so caught up in your action that you don't even realize when a loud and defeated wail renders you a sobbing mess.

You don't hear Andy run up the stairs at the sound and stand at the door, eyebrows furrowed in worry and tenderness. He watches you for a second as you hunch forward and hit your hands against the bed in anger.

"I'm so sorry," You cry to no one in particular, "I should've known something or done something — I should've taken more care of you."

Tears gather in your husband's eyes as he hears your words. He wastes no time in stepping towards you and resting a hand on your shoulder. You flinch slightly, not expecting Andy to have heard you.

You can't even look at him, so disappointed and ashamed of yourself that you can't gather the courage to look your husband in the eye.

"Y/N, come here." He gently goads you to stand, his hand warm on your shoulder. When you rise to your feet, Andy pulls you into him, not caring about the snot or tears that transfer from your face to his t-shirt. He rubs a hand down your back and another over your hair and sniffles, "Don't you dare blame yourself for what happened. It wasn't your fault."

In that moment, his words meant nothing to you. They just drowned under the grief you were experiencing. It was only during the silent night when you two were laying on the couch of the living room after dumping your mattress that you realized how much his words meant to you.

With your head resting on his chest, you crane your neck up and gaze at him, watching as he stares up at the ceiling in thought.

"Andrew?" You whisper, voice cracking after hours of weeping.

He shifts his gaze to you, giving you his full attention. "Hmm?"

You take in his blue eyes which have seemed to lose its sparkle. "I love you."

He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, layered in salty tears, "I love you too."

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[keepingthehopealive]

2nd appointment with my psych was equally challenging as the day prior. She was down to the point which I expected. I told her it felt mean and stern and she said that wasn't the intention. She believes I need a higher LOC. She was ready to have me sectioned and then later pushed i at least needed an "evaluation". This was even after I did the thing to keep myself safe, she still pushed that she was concerned and made me contract for my safety. Before our last few appointments shes never really used those phrases, "im extremely concerned" and that she cares about me and my safety. We were in a similar boat that we both kind of feel backed into a corner, me not feeling I can be honest with her and her feeling like im not letting her do her job to keep me safe. It's a pretty awful position to be in, as I do care about her and the relationship and not hurting her or putting her in this position. I have offered her "outs", that she doesn't have to work with me , but she says that would be unethical and abandonment at this point, is not what she wants and is not going to happen unless I go to the hospital.

I feel like it can be so challenging with her because she goes both ways in that she is very kind and validating but is also matter of fact and tough with me at other times. She's said before it's not tough love, but it's her job and her approach. I know I need those pushes and that I won't get them as much from my therapist as that just isn't her style. But I get stuck with my psych because it can feel very harsh and that triggers a lot of the anxieties and projections in the relationship. There's also quite a bit of transference for me, as she is similar to my last therapist K, so that's painful too. I also know that a lot of this depends on how well im communicating with her and that I really struggle with effective communication in our appointments (for many reasons). When I ask for the reassurance I need or communicate the projections, she is very reassuring and will clarify her thoughts and views. I just struggle to hang on to those things, like I always do.

Next time I want to ask her and communicate a few specific things which is asking her if she resents me, communicating how I've felt after the appts this week, and my thoughts about a higher level of care. I just feel that she doesn't fully understand or care about the consequences of that for me, and my experience last time with it. I may send it in an email since I do struggle so much with talking about it, but im gonna try to wait till day of as I've bothered and burdened her enough this week. Unfortunetly I only see my therapist once this week too which sucks as I rely on the 2x/week.

[someonefantastic]

I Think I need a Doctor

Fun fact, I started this whole month out with a mini bucket list and this fic was one of two things on there. I really wanted to do some Karen whump since she is so underrated and this idea spawned during a convo about Deez Nups with the psych discord. It's a little different from my usual but I hope y'all enjoy it nonetheless! Summary: Fun fact, I started this whole month out with a mini bucket list and this fic was one of two things on there. I really wanted to do some Karen whump since she is so underrated and this idea spawned during a convo about Deez Nups with the psych discord. It's a little different from my usual but I hope y'all enjoy it nonetheless! Warnings: hospitals, miscarriage, nausea, blood also on ao3 (recommended cause this gets long) ___ Karen sighed. The women’s restroom in the police department wasn’t the most ideal place but it had been an extremely long day and she needed answers. All week she had been feeling tired and nauseous- frankly, she would have chalked it up to sickness but then she remembered that she had also missed her period which caused her thoughts to go elsewhere.

That was at 8 am and since then, she had been called down to a murder scene, the victim turned out to be an old police chief, had to deal with two ex-cops butting heads with her consultants, and comfort her detective after some sexist remarks. So she shoved the thought to the back of her head- or at least tried to. But the curiosity remained growing bit by bit. Eventually, the anticipation became too great and she had used much of her break running to the drug store and waiting in the women’s restroom.

Glancing at her watch for what felt like the millionth time, she took a deep breath noting that the three minutes were finally up. Her hands shook as she picked up the small piece of plastic, stilling herself for what answers it might hold. Her eyes widened as she saw the results.

Two clear pink lines.

She was pregnant.

Naturally, she’d have to confirm it with a doctor first but judging by all of her other symptoms, she was pretty sure it was true.

Leaning heavily against the stall door, reality started to sink in. A smile began to spread across her face, her breath coming out in huffy laughter.

“Holy crap, I’m pregnant.” She breathed, staring at the results, her heart beating rapidly. Her smile had turned into a full out grin, joy rising in her chest. She and Richard hadn’t exactly been trying but they weren’t being safe either. They had always wanted another kid but due to both of their ages, had never really thought it would happen. But now…

She resisted the urge to jump up and down. She couldn’t wait to tell Richard. ___ Walking through the front door, she barely paused to throw her keys in the bowl and shed her heels before seeking out her husband. She found him tucking Iris into bed and paused in the doorway to watch them. He was reading the four-year-old a story- If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, her favorite- but the peaceful atmosphere was short-lived as her daughter saw her.

“Mommy!” She yelled, reaching out with grabby hands and Karen smiled, pushing off of the doorway to sit on her bed beside her.

“Hello sweetheart, I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Isokay.” Iris shrugged before giving her a gap-tooth smile. “Did you catch any bad guys?”

“Tons of them.” She leaned forward, placing a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “Did you have fun with daddy?”

“Mhmm,” She nodded vigorously, “We went to the park and had hot dogs and I fell off the swings!”

Karen raised an eyebrow at her husband who smiled sheepishly, “It was just a small fall, she’s okay.”

“I got a Wonder Woman bandaid, wanna see?” Karen didn’t have time to blink before the covers were pushed back and her pajama pants leg was rolled up, revealing a red bandaid on her knee. “Can you kiss it better?”

After exchanging amused looks with Richard, she bent down, pressing her lips against the wound. “There… all better.”

“Thank you,” Iris beamed, settling back into bed. “You can read more daddy.”

Richard laughed, “Sure thing pumpkin.”

After two more books- because of course, Iris needed her mom to read also- she and Richard gave their daughter one last kiss. Bidding their goodnights, they shut the door a little behind them, finally alone. Karen was suddenly very aware of just how nervous she was. It was big, life-changing news and while she was excited, it still made her stomach clench with anticipation and anxiety.

They made their way into the bedroom, out of earshot of their little one, before Richard turned around, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the bed. “So, how was work, really? I mean, obviously, you had to work late.”

“Yeah,” She sighed, shedding her suit coat and tossing it in the hamper. “An ex-police chief got murdered and now he���s suspected of laundering drugs. You can imagine the kind of PR nightmare this is gonna be.”

He frowned nose wrinkling, “That does not sound fun. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, “Well hopefully our detectives and consultants come up with something.” She shook her head, giving a little wave. “But enough with work, I have something I need to tell you.” Shifting a little, she bit her lip.

Sitting up straighter, he raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on her mood. “Yeah? What?”

“Well…” She started, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the pregnancy test that had weighed heavily there for most of the afternoon. “I’m pregnant.”

His jaw dropped, eyes going wide and she thought for a brief second that he may have been upset. But his face quickly broke out into a smile, leaping off the bed and pulling her into his arms.

“Holy crap, we’re gonna have another kid.” He gasped, burying his nose into her hair.

“Yeah…” The tears of joy that had been threatening to fall all afternoon finally did fall, slipping down her cheeks to land on his shirt.

They were going to be parents again, their family was going to grow. It was amazing and wonderful and she just couldn’t wait. ___ The next few weeks were a whirlwind of babies and cases. An appointment with her doctor confirmed that yes indeed she was pregnant, putting her at about four weeks along. She half-listened to his warnings about overexerting herself since miscarriage at her age was so common but she waved away those doubts. There was no use worrying over something that hopefully wouldn’t happen.

Shortly after that, they sat Iris down and told her the news. She was elated at the idea that she was going to be a big sister almost instantly berating her parents with an onslaught of questions about the baby. For the next two weeks straight, all her drawings were of her and her brother or sister.

As for her and Richard, they were thriving. They both decided to not tell any of their coworkers or extended family until the second trimester, not wanting to get any of their hopes up in the off chance that something went wrong. But they didn’t have any fear. Keeping the knowledge just to their little family made the whole experience feel more intimate. Sure they did have a few slips ups- especially since Iris couldn’t keep a secret- and she noticed her detectives giving her a few odd looks every now and again, particularly when she left early for a doctor’s appointment- but for the most part, the knowledge stayed between the three of them.

Between pulling Iris’ old baby stuff out of the attic, taking vitamins, working, and getting morning sickness, it felt like Karen’s life had gone to a new level of crazy. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it. The idea of having another baby was exciting and fun and caused her to seek Richard out and steal a kiss or two on several occasions. Of course, some days weren’t as great, like when she’d feel sick all day or wouldn’t get home until late or Richard had to travel for work, but regardless, she was still happy.

Truth be told though, she barely had enough time to focus on the baby or any preparations due to her job. It seemed like lately the crazies were just getting crazier. Not only did she have to deal with a hostage situation- on a boat of all things- two convicts wound up escaping, launching a manhunt. Then after that, there was a serial killer who was picking off people from a liver donation list, her consultants started acting weird, and somehow they wound up implicated in aiding an enemy agent. Of course, the Feds had to be called in which was a nightmare in of itself, and then her detective asked for two weeks off- which she was more than happy to give to her considering everything O’Hara had been through as of late- which was shortly followed by a retraction and a request to aid her partner in extraditing a convinced criminal back to the states.

So to say life was crazy may have been an understatement. It was downright insane.

On top of all of that, she had started feeling worse and worse and she worried for her unborn baby, fearing that getting sick could cause problems. But, luckily, she had a rare Saturday off and she was insistent on using it to relax and spend time with her daughter and husband.

And she did exactly that.

Sitting outside in the warm fall Santa Barbara air, she smiled, watching Iris run around the yard. Her daughter was playing her new favorite game, doggy princess, which basically was her running around and doing dog-like things. Laughing, Karen sent a content smile at her husband who exchanged the look and reached out a hand to cover hers.

“I can’t wait for Iris to have a sibling.” He squeezed her hand and her smile grew.

She glanced down, her hand rested on her stomach, fingers brushing the very small bump. “Me too, it’ll be good for her to have a playmate.”

He hummed in agreement, picking up her hand to press his lips against it. “I love you, dear.”

“I love you too.”

Turning back to their daughter, she frowned as her stomach clenched for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She had felt crampy pretty much all morning and well into the afternoon but had shaken it off. She worried that it would turn into morning sickness- after all, it had been a few days since she last got sick and she wasn’t looking forward to that again. She was never one to feed into her worries though and figured that if it continued into the next day, then she would call her doctor.

She turned her head, looking at her husband through tired eyes and he frowned. “Still feeling bad?”

She nodded lazily, “I guess I forgot how much being pregnant can suck sometimes.”

He gave a short laugh, leaning forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’ll all be worth it though.”

“You bet your butt it will.”

She closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her. She wasn’t planning on taking a nap- after all a four-year-old made that particularly difficult- but resting her eyes seemed like a good idea. With a sigh, she relaxed, letting her stress and worry ease away.

She didn’t get very far into her quiet time before she felt a warm wetness between her legs. Groaning, she stood up and started walking towards the house.

“Where are you going?” Richard asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think I wet myself.” When his eyes widened, she rolled hers. “Remember? It happened all the time when I was pregnant with Iris. It’s just my luck that it’d happen with this one too.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry darling.”

“It’s fine,” She shrugged, “I’ll meet you inside for snack time?”

“Of course.”

She sighed again as she headed into the living room and snagged a clean pair of underwear from the laundry basket- thankful for once that she put off doing chores. Wandering into the downstairs bathroom, she stripped out of her pants and peeled back her panties, blood running cold. They were stained with a dark red.

She quickly changed, hands moving of their own accord as her mind raced. Exiting the bathroom, she made wide-eyed contact with her husband who paused his trek into the kitchen, picking up on her distress.

“What’s wrong?”

Swallowing heavily, her hands gripped the doorframe, knuckles turning white. “I think I need a doctor.” ___ The wait in the ER had been quick- only lasting about ten minutes- but to Karen, time crawled by. Waiting for the test results was even worse, the nurse had hastily taken blood, asked a few questions, then rushed off. Iris had been dropped off at her nephew’s house with little explanation which left the two of them to their thoughts and worries.

She wrung her hands, a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. It felt weird sitting on a hospital bed, after all the last time she had been in the hospital was when Iris was born and those memories did little to quell her nerves. Richard stood behind her, hands working her shoulders and she was grateful for his presence. If he had been on a business trip… she shook her head, now wasn’t the time for what-ifs.

“It’ll be okay.” She heard him say, though she wasn’t sure if it was to her or himself.

She didn’t have the heart to reply nor did she need to as a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Richard called and a doctor walked in, holding a clipboard close to his chest.

“Chief Vick, Mr. Vick,” He greeted with a nod of his head. “My name is Dr. Phillips, I’m sorry for the wait.”

“It’s okay,” She replied, “Thank you for seeing us so quickly.”

“Well with something so-” He waved his free hand, “Serious, we wanted to get you in fast.”

Her stomach clenched. “Serious?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. I’m terribly sorry for this news but your blood work- and symptoms described- indicated that you’re having a miscarriage.”

Even though she had her suspicions, the words still hit her hard, knocking the air from her lungs. Her blood ran cold and she felt like she might throw up. Their child- the kid that they had been so excited about- was gone.

“In addition to your miscarriage,” He continued and she glanced up, barely registering his words, “Due to your age, I’m afraid you won’t be able to have any more children without serious complications. I’m very sorry.”

It felt like a punch to the gut, except she had experienced those before and this was so much worse. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. The world was falling apart around her, crashing to pieces. Her fingers found Richard’s, holding his hand as if her life depended on it- right now it felt like it did.

“Do- do you know the gender?” Richard spoke up, his voice sounding distant and shaky.

Dr. Phillips nodded, “While it’s not one-hundred percent accurate, the results of some blood tests indicate that the baby would have been a boy.”

“A boy.” He whispered, and her heart twisted again. They could have had a boy.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes.” The doctor said, though she barely registered his words.

Once he left the room, Richard climbed onto the bed, legs on either side of her, and wrapped his arms around her stomach, burning her face into her neck. She couldn’t even relax into his touch though, her body too stiff, too shocked to even move. Numbness felt all-consuming aside from the constant ache in her abdomen, stomach cramping with broken dreams- a signal that what they had longed for had officially come to an end.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until he wiped at her tears with his thumb and suddenly, all her emotions couldn’t get out fast enough. Her face crashed into her palms as sobs wracked her body. Behind her, she felt Richard tremble, his own tears beginning to fall. Her chest ached, lungs heaving as she grieved- because that’s what this really was, it was grieving. Grieving the loss of their unborn son, grieving the opportunity to have another child, grieving the joy that would have come with it.

They sobbed for what felt like hours until tears no longer fell and her cries turned to dry heaving. Her sleeves and back were wet, soaked by their combined tears but she didn’t care, too focused on the ache inside her chest. Leaning against him, she took a shuddered breath and he wrapped his arms across her chest, her hands coming up to grip his forearms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I lost our baby.”

She could feel him shake his head. “Absolutely not Karen.” His voice was scratchy from unuse. “You didn’t lose anything. It happens.”

“It happened to us.” She took another shaking breath. “We were going to have a son.”

He sniffled. “I know.”

The pain increased as a thought crossed her mind, “How do we tell Iris?”

His breath hitched, “I don’t know… oh gosh this sucks so much.”

Nodding mutely, she closed her eyes, letting stray tears slip down her cheeks. “How are we going to get through this?” She mumbled.

“I don’t know,” He repeated, “but we’ll get through this together. We always do.”

Swallowing roughly, she nodded. “Thank you for being here… I love you.”

“I love you too. For better or for worse remember?”

“For better or for worse.” She echoed. ___ Two years later and the pain had faded, though not completely. Some days seeing mothers with new babies or families with lots of kids brought her back to that hospital- to pouring her emotions out on that bed and feeling that pain. But time had gone by, Iris was 6 now having recently started first grade, she was still chief and loving it. Life was still moving forward, and definitely for the better.

Her head detective was getting married and she sat in a dressing room, watching his bride-to-be get ready for her big day. She talked about how excited she was to be marrying him and Karen smiled, reflecting on her own wedding day all those years ago. She knew first hand that marriage had its ups and downs and she didn’t hesitate to tell the woman exactly that- about her occasional dreams of running away to the South of France, about Richard’s failed attempts to make eggs florentine or how he knew exactly what she needed on a stressful day. Her heart twisted and she yearned to tell them all about her miscarriage, that even in the hard times, it would all be worth it but she stopped, knowing that now wasn’t the time.

Instead, she began talking about what might have been. About her dreams of Richard being there for the birth of their child- about their son. “Oh, or that day when he walks into your hospital room holding your newborn son, and he will lay him gently on your chest, and he tells you that you look beautiful, even though you know you look like hell frozen over…” They chuckled and she smiled fondly, “And it all will be worth it.”

The moment was cut short as the maid of honor began complaining about her parole officer but she didn’t mind, jumping on the opportunity to help out- and thankful for the distraction. And later, when her detective cornered her, asking about why she said son when Iris exists, she didn’t hesitate to share what happened, reminding her that all relationships had pain but often the pain was worth it.

Watching her detectives dance and party, she smiled. Yes, she didn’t get to have more kids but her family wasn’t small. While the pain was still there, there was also hope. She had found her family and while it was unconventional, she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[pornosophical]

three years of escalating medical interventions until finally the last Dr asked if I’d tried physical therapy

the one thing that finally worked came so late it was almost too late. and hten it was too late because my parents hired a drug intervention team to try and get me to a psychiatrist residential facility—after the dudes threatened me that my parents would put me in a guardianship

that was a lie. my mom got real upset. not as upset as I was. I made them pull over on the way tot the airport and told them to call the bluff and call the police

I’m white cis male and wear nice clothes. the police were fucking nice to me. I went to the hospital, the Psych nurse in the ER looked at me, heard what she needed to hear “I intend to seek help, just not with these fuckers” and said “okay, go one home, he’s fine, we’ve got real sick people to handle”

needless to say, that was the opposite of how I’d told them to communicate with me. it’s part of why my mom’s hypothetical pain at my loss wanes in my priorities now, it’s why I stopped trusting my therapist, why I am contemptuous of my brother in the extreme (loves to cry at the intervention, doesn’t ever get off his ass to help out side it—EVER) and. well. I already don’t give a shit about my dad and tell him so to his face when I feel like it

he’s earned it. the other day I offered to do a joint suicide with him just because he kept asking stupid questions about anxiety. ‘all we have to do is drive off teh bridge right now Dad. Or you can shut up and read one of the fucking books I’ve recced/my therapists recced/your wife recced you over the years’

they demonstrate the level of care by their engagement. I’ve told him I know he doesn’t care about me, he cares about being able to go to Hawaii without my mom worrying I’ll kill myself. that’s it. he doesn’t like it when I say it, but his defense is always passive-aggressive so then I get to tell him thanks for proving my point time and again

nothing like just not careing about anything anymore to really drive some shit home. I’m in my early 30s and I hate my life and I really don’t care about my relationship to a man who wants me healthy not for my sake but so it stops impacting his own life

[vergeangst]

Here’s a little something based off of this post by @coconut-cluster

Also, credit to @itsme98z for the idea of Emile being the teacher who helps Logan out with his situation.

Warnings: Mild self-hatred, comparing oneself to others, mild anxiety (mentions of fear for grades/being judged), Logan just practically drives himself to a walking being of exhaustion

Word count: 1,871

—————

Logan was one of those students who, to the outside eye, seemed to have his life together. He already had a plan for the future, already knew which college he’d go to and what he wanted to be when he grew up, despite only being a junior in high school. He got pretty good grades and seemed to dress to impress, wearing a tie and either a polo or button-up every day. Others in his classes seemed to look up to him in some ways. Logan, however, never saw himself in the way they did. He seemed to only see those above him.

Oh, how he wished he were them, the ones who graduated with a perfect GPA and got awarded as the valedictorian. Those who got all A’s all the time, who seemed to never have a problem with getting above a 90 on every test and quiz, no matter what class. Those who never knew what it felt like to fail so miserably at something such as grades. Logan tried so hard to be like them. He tried so hard to be perfect like them, though at this point it felt unattainable. He was in only 2 AP classes, as History and English weren’t particularly his best subjects. That alone proved to him that he wasn’t as good as a lot of other students. Even in his best class, Pre AP Calculus, he had a 91 as his grade for this 6 weeks.

His life was average at best. Sure, he had friends and a pretty good home life with a lovely pet and supportive parents, but he couldn’t bare to say anything about his disappointment in himself. He knew he wasn’t alone, but he sure felt like it. Logan knew that there were others, even some in his friend group, that got grades such as C’s and D’s regularly, so it seemed sort of selfish and mean to voice his concerns to them. And he just knew that if he told his parents all they’d do is try to reassure him that no, he was absolutely amazing and he had no reason to worry. But he knew that there would always be someone better than him. He knew he could never compare, no matter how much he tried.

These thoughts had been invading Logan’s mind more often this year now that college was just about a year and a half away. To make it worse, his AP Psychology teacher was leaving at the end of the week. Mrs. Kingswood had been Logan’s favorite teacher from the first day he’d entered her classroom. She had apparently been offered a new, higher-paying job in another part of the state. Logan saw the logic behind it, of course. She would’ve been a fool to turn down such a job, but that didn’t mean he’d miss her any less.

From what he’d heard, the person replacing her was a someone named Dr. Picani and he’d used to be a couples’ therapist, a fairly popular one at that. Logan didn’t have much time to think about him though, too worried about his US History, English, and Physics tests later this week.

—————

Logging into the home access center Monday morning, Logan sighed in relief. He’d made an A on both his English and History tests and a low B on his Physics test, which, with the square root curve, would end up as a low A, thank god. He walked into Psyche, a frown replacing the small smile on his face as he realized that the new teacher would be here today instead of Mrs. Kingswood.

The tardy bell rang just as he’d sat down in his seat, his eyes training on the stranger in the front of the classroom. He was wearing a white button-up with a brown sweater vest and a pink tie that matched perfectly with the shade of pink of his hair.

“Hello,” the man spoke enthusiastically, his bright smile immediately reminding Logan of his friend, Patton. “I am Dr. Emile Picani, but you can just call me Emile. Now, there was supposed to be a lesson today, but I figured that today could be a day for me to learn about all of you lovelies. Let’s start with the roll, now, shall we? Fiona..”

Logan sighed. While it seemed the new teacher was extremely nice, he also seemed to have the energy level of both Roman and Patton combined.

“..gan?.. Is Logan Foster here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Logan spoke, raising his hand.

Emile smiled at him and Logan offered a small smile back before averting his gaze. He seemed nice enough, and he was respectful of his students’ preferred names and pronouns, from what he’d seen. Maybe this new teacher wouldn’t be so bad..

—���———

Emile soon became Logan’s favorite teacher. He’d always leave little encouraging and helpful notes on Logan’s tests, which, to be honest, did help somewhat. Logan knew he wasn’t the only one to get the little comments though. He saw the writing in various colors of ink, pink, green, blue, or purple, scribbled at the top of every other student’s tests as well. That seemed to take away some of the meaning of it, except for when he used Logan’s name in them. Then, he knew the comment was for him and only him.

That was only a small booster for his confidence that lasted until he had to go to his next class, though, then he was filled with dread for the rest of the day. This feeling had become all too common these days. His grades began to slip, despite him doing practically everything he could to keep them up. He’d even taken to studying into the late hours of the night, trying to retain any information he could for upcoming quizzes and tests, going to tutorials for multiple classes a week, and asking his parents for help on his homework.

He still acted as if everything was fine though, because he was still better off than some others, right? So, what was the point in complaining about something if the person you’re complaining to is in a worse situation? That’s how Logan saw it, anyway.

Logan tried as hard as he could to do better, to at least just get back to where he used to be, but how could he do that when he could barely even stay awake during his classes? One day, Emile was passing the latest tests back, and Logan saw that he’d gotten a 75, the lowest grade that was still considered a C. He’d only sighed and looked at the note in the top right, this time written in purple. It read, ‘Logan, please visit my room after school.’ He’d frowned at that, but he assumed it was only a matter of time before one of his teachers questioned him about why he couldn’t seem to keep his grades up.

By the end of the day, all Logan wished to do was go home, curl up in bed, and hide from everyone and everything, but he still had to visit Emile. He plastered a small smile on his face as he walked into the room and toward the teacher, who was sitting at his desk, typing something into the computer.

“Um, h-hi..” Logan silently cursed the way his voice shook as Emile turned to look at him, smiling.

“Ah, Logan.”

“You, um, wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the desk nearest to him, which Logan made his way to, slipping off his backpack and sitting down. “Now, I wanted to ask, how much sleep have you been getting?”

That certainly wasn’t what Logan was expecting. “A few hours.. Maybe 2-4 a night.. Why?”

Emile pursed his lips for a moment. “You know how I write notes for each of my students?”

Logan nodded, the corner of his lips twitching up the slightest bit.

“I do that because I want them to know that I care about each and every one of them. I want them to see that they’ve done something that makes me proud, and that I’m here to help if they need it.”

Logan’s eyebrows drew together. Why was Emile telling him this? He knew that he cared for his students. He was one of the only teachers that actively sought out to help his students and acted as if they were actual human beings with different learning patterns. He used examples that students would understand and explained it to those who may not.

“I told you to come see me because I’m worried about you. I see that you’re trying very hard in my class, but you’re lack of sleep and possibly other factors are contributing to difficulties focusing.”

Logan looked down at the lines that squiggled across the wooden desk he sat at, biting his lip as he debated on telling Emile what had truly been troubling him.

“I-I guess my mental health has declined, as my grades have always been a cause of stress for me, but now th-they’re dropping and..” His eyes filled with tears as his voice shook again.

“And?” Emile rolled his chair to sit next to Logan’s desk, offering his hand for logan as a source of comfort.

Logan took the hand as tears began slipping from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “I’ve tried everything to bring them back up. Even before they started dropping I was trying to bring them up and I feel like it’s impossible to ever even get back to where I was..”

“Oh, Logan.. Here.” He retrieved a box of tissues, from where, Logan had no idea, and set them on the desk. “Have you ever talked to someone about this?” At Logan’s shake of his head, Emile nodded. “I encourage you to try to talk to someone whenever you feel like you need to. It could be a friend or a parent, or it could even be me if you’d like. No matter who it is, I want you to feel safe and less stressed. It seems that you’ve kept your worries to yourself for so long that they’ve manifested into this fear of failing, while also exhausting you to the point where you’ve accepted it, is that right?”

Logan nodded, a metaphorical weight lifting from his chest at someone finally understanding how he felt after so long of keeping it all to himself for fear of being judged. “Yes. Yes that’s..thank you, so-so much.”

“Any time, Logan. And hey, try to get a little bit more sleep tonight, alright?”

Logan smiled, nodding as he stood from the desk. “Alright. I’ll try. Um, could I possibly get a hug?”

“Oh, of course!” Emile stood from his chair to wrap Logan in a warm hug, allowing Logan to pull away when he was ready. Once he did, Emile offered a warm smile and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em tiger. You got this.”

“Thank you again.” Logan smiled, feeling happier now than he had in a while as he grabbed his backpack and left Emile’s classroom.

This new teacher had really grown on him, hadn’t he?

—————

Alrighty, I hope y'all liked it! I’m currently working on a pretty hefty angst fic involving Virgil and the snake man (not saying his name or speaking of anything that happens for those that could possibly have a trigger linked to the character), so be looking forward to that in the future!

[faithfulcat111]

Night Terrors

Summary: Virgil explains to Patton what his sleeping disorder is after a rough night. Part of my Sanders College Au

Trigger warnings: talk about nightmares and night terrors, no nightmares are described

Word Count: 604

Writing Masterpost

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

"Are you okay" Virgil turned from where he was lacing up his boots to see Patton staring at him from under his covers. His roommate sounded tired, which wasn't surprising considering he didn't have to be up for another two hours. The only reason Virgil was even up was that he stupidly took an 8 am class this semester. "Yeah?" Virgil said, giving the laces another pull. "What's up?" "You spent half the night mumbling into your pillow," Patton pushed himself up slightly, squinting at Virgil. "And I'm pretty sure you were trying to punch a hole in the wall at some point." "Oh, sorry," Virgil stood up, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it on. "Verge," Patton's tone stopped him as he started for the door. "What happened last night?" "Patton, I probably just had night terrors last night," Virgil said, one hand still on the doorknob. "I told you about them at the beginning of the semester, when you moved in. They've been happening less and less, hell my last two roommates never even saw them. But, apparently, they can still happen." "But what could have terrified you so badly? It can't be good to just not talk about your nightmares with anyone. Even if they aren't happening as much. I know you also have anxiety and such, could that be causing it? Or are your nightmares causing the anxiety? Or..." "Pat," Virgil cut him off. "I have night terrors, not nightmares." Patton stopped, now fully sitting up, "What?" Virgil dropped down into his desk chair, now resolved that he might be slightly late for being early to class, "Nightmares are what you are thinking of. Hell, most people think night terrors are just an extreme version of nightmares. Lord knows my sister certainly does. But the actual psychological sleeping disorder, night terrors, is not extreme nightmares. The main symptom is that they happen in the deepest part of non-Rem sleep, have you gotten to Rem and non-Rem sleep yet in Psych?" Patton shook his head and Virgil continued, "Well, there are multiple levels of sleep. Nightmares occur during Rem sleep. Night terrors occur during, I believe it is non-Rem 3, the deepest you can go. Of course, it is near impossible to wake up someone from that level and if you do manage it, the person certainly doesn't remember what caused it. Which is what makes it so hard to study. The only reason we know I have it is because my mom was concerned when I moved in as a teenager and was still having nightmares, couldn't remember them, and she could never wake me from the problem. It is where half my bruises came from then because I would just hit the wall, the bedframe, anything. It was an at-least twice-weekly occurrence when I was fourteen. But at least I had stopped sleep-walking by then." "Huh," Patton murmured as he thought this over. "And you never remember anything?" "Nope," Virgil shook his head. "Then why is it happening less and less, as you said?" Patton asked. "That's the thing, why night terrors are typically only a childhood sleeping disorder. Because as you grow older, you don't go into non-Rem 3 as much and, eventually, you stop altogether. Another mystery when it comes to human sleep patterns," Virgil explained. "So, you are likely never going to wake me up with another night terror?" Patton asked. Virgil shrugged, "Likely. Now go back to sleep, you don't have class till eleven." Patton laid back down, "Okay, have fun in whatever you're going to." Virgil chuckled as he slipped out the door, "Thanks, Pat."

[one-hell-of-a-bi]

Oh shit, that's so much worse than my problems. I am SO sorry you're going through that level of help. D: But if you can get somebody to listen at all, a lupus test might be good to at least rule it out. Osteoarthritis was what we suspected at first for me, and honestly I probably have a few arthritic joints on top of the lupus. But I really hope you get decent care and people who actually listen to you soon, because that is such major bullshit.

Thank you, cuz yeah it’s def total bullshit. I am seeing my primary doctor again in a couple weeks and when I do I’m gonna bring up what the pain specialist said and I’ll mention lupus and other tests and see what he says. The longer I’ve seen him the more nice he’s been and I dunno what that says about him but as long as he is listening and helping I don’t really care. 

Tbh tho the worst part is the pain management place. I know that the opioid addiction crisis is bad but it seems like the response has been to make disabled people suffer and it’s not actually solving any problems. Like it has been proven that the people who become addicted are overwhelmingly not disabled people who need these meds everyday, but people who are injured and have been prescribed too many of them them short term since all that Big Pharma is interested in is prescribing them as much as possible so they can make money.

But in response what has happened is that they are putting rules in place as to what pain patients can be given and it is hurting us. Because my pain is bad. Depending on what I do my average pain level is usually a 5-6 and can spike as high as 9 if I have to push myself. I need these pain meds to help me sleep and to make it so that I can function day to day. 

I also have debilitating anxiety that has symptoms that are almost on par with my pain. When my anxiety is bad enough I will stay up as late as possible until I legit cannot keep my eyes open because if I try to sleep at any other time I have anxiety attacks. I can be irritable for weeks at a time and have severe chest pain that lasts just as long. And when I have anxiety attacks, which more often than not happen when I am out in public, my symptoms are hellish. I start crying and hyperventilating, and my heart rate skyrockets to dangerous levels. When it gets bad enough I start disassociating so severely that I legit cannot process external stimuli at all(when I think back on such attacks I can’t really remember seeing anything properly, everything is either blury or weird colors or both and I can’t even hear) and so I def NEED this medication. I cannot function properly without it. (And to describe how bad my anxiety gets once when I was out of it and couldn’t get anymore I was having an anxiety attack before work but knew I couldn’t call out so I legit fucking took a shot of rum to help me calm down. Without this crucial med I would turn to drinking to relieve my anxiety. And that is not a fucking healthy option.)

And now I have to choose. Either have the medication that keeps my pain at a manageable level or have the medication that manages my debilitating anxiety symptoms. And as a side note I have tried lots of different long term anxiety medications and none of them work and anxiety like the attacks and long term symptoms I have are nearly impossible to “mindfulness” my way out of, believe me I have tried. The meds I am on currently are the only ones that have ever worked. So I legit have no idea what to do. And it’s so fucking unfair.

Like not to shame addicts in any way I know lots of people who have become addicted to lots of different things and it def is a disease and needs to be addressed, but I have NEVER shown any signs of addiction or abuse on my meds. The anxiety med they gave me is addictive, it’s a benzodiazepine, but they have me on a low dose and I only take it when I absolutely need it. I have never sold it or taken more than I need or given it away or anything. I am also on another controlled substance, a medication for my ADHD. And once again, no signs of addiction or abuse, I’ve never sold it or given it away or taken more than I need. The same with my current pain meds which are an opioid. 

I have done everything I can to be trustworthy and honest because it is the only way to get the meds I need, and since I have seen so many other people with addictions I am VERY careful because I don’t want to go down that path. It’s part of the reason that despite my current psyche office having an official policy of not prescribing benzodiazepines  they made an exception for me. But no, since other people become addicted because of Big Pharma I have to fucking choose between two medications I fucking NEED to function. 

Plus the fucking lady at the clinic was already treating me like an addict. I told her that I hadn’t taken my anxiety meds in a long time despite needing them because I was scared since if I take them too close to my opioid it can kill me and she still was acting all suspicious like she didn’t believe me. She even said “If you ever feel the urge to take the meds you need to tell me, we have to be honest with eachother, ok?” And I was like??? Bitch??? I don’t fucking “feel the urge” to take my meds, I need to fucking take them because my brain is sick. You wouldn’t describe me taking my adderall or my emergency inhaler as “feeling the urge to take it” because I fucking need them to exist as a normal human being. When someone is sick and needs medication they are not an addict, they are SICK. 

Tbh I think when I go back I’m just gonna tell her that I choose to take the anxiety meds. Cuz yeah the opioids help but I can deal with extreme pain. I cannot deal with my anxiety. But I’m kinda worried that she won’t let me because if it is a bulging disk I’m probably gonna need surgery and if I do I will have to take pain meds to recover and if so she won’t let me have my anxiety meds. I honestly hope it is a disk thing despite none of my other doctors agreeing with her just so I can get this all over with and be allowed to have my anxiety meds again. Cuz this really is such bullshit and I don’t deserve to be treated this way when my only crime is having a disability and mental illnesses. 

Anyway, sorry for the rant, this is just really frustrating and I am getting really close to being done with everything. I am tired and angry and feel like crying all of the time and I can’t have a life because of all of the appointments and pain and I just wish one fucking doctor would actually listen and help me or at least assure me that everything is gonna be ok instead of treating me like this. Thanks for the message of positivity, it means a lot

[queenofthefaces]

For psyche we had to do a project abt our development and shit, so for one: I was the CUTEST baby

And 2 I was such a DIFFERENT kid oof,,,,,jus hearing what my mom had to say abt how o acted and shit? Comparing myself andmy development to other kids?

When I was 3 months old I wanted to be mostly left alone and I didn’t like to be held and that’s like a defining part of Me, I need my silence and solitude

I was fluently reading and writing and talking in complete sentences by two—I was correcting grammar by TWO. And I had a logical reason for EVERYTHING I did. My mom had to COMPROMISE with me when she punished me bc I wouldn’t be satisfied until I felt I was being treated fairly, and I wouldn’t listen unless I knew WHY I had to act a certain way

Teachers talked to me like they’d talk to adults, not in topic but in tone

We had silent lunch tables which were desks far away from the other kids where you’d go if you were disrupting other kids and I ASKED to go there bc I wanted to not be bothered while I ate and I wanted the silence

I was a loner bc I liked being on my own with my books and my thoughts and it was hard for me to find kids who were, as my mom put it “on my level” bc I couldn’t really talk to them all the time

I was and still am honest to a fault; I rarely ever lied bc I didn’t see the point of it, and I valued the truth above all else. If I thought something was true I was going to say it. I was overly BLUNT and at times I hurt people bc I said smth that was cruel or hurtful but I didn’t MEAN it to be, I just thought it was saying something true and that ppl needed to know the truth. I didn’t get why they were hurt

I can still to this day be harshly oblivious and struggle w reading between the lines when it comes to, like, household chores. If you tell me to do smth I’ll do it, but you can’t just expect me to do it if I haven’t been assigned the task bc I assume if I wasn’t told to do it that someone else will do it?? Or t just won’t cross my mind a lot of the time??

Or if my brain catches smth I think is illogical it will cling to that and I’ll repeat it until it’s acknowledged bc it will stick with me, and sometimes social politeness goes completely over my head—ESPECIALLY when people offer to do smth for me. Why offer if you don’t actually want to do it??? Don’t expect me to lie and say I DOKT want a sandwich

I stim a lot, I fidget and rock and rub my hands and chew things sometimes, I have anxiety that comes up mainly around needles and unfamiliar social situations and conflict

I go through phases where I’m extremely invested in smth I like and if you go through my blog you can easily see where my phases start and stopbased on just how much content I reblog and at the frequency. I talk too much about things I’m passionate about and can go on and on for hours. Sometimes I talk too much and I’m insecure about that but I just love to talk

My mom’s brother likely has undiagnosed something. My mom grew up with him, learned his mannerisms, learned that they’re just a part of who he is, and then she had me, and knew how to deal with me a lot in part because of her experience with him, then she started working with the special ed program at the elementary school

My mom told me, if she ever bothered to get me checked as a kid, they probably would’ve diagnosed me with something too

Sometimes that just sticks with me.

[caxxiopeia]

Feel free to ignore this

Tw: suicide, Tw: hospitalization

I just need to write this down somewhere and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. I was hospitalized last March for overdosing on my anti-anxiety meds to try and kill myself. Not really important why, basically I was just extremely stressed about school and executive dysfunction and depression was kicking my ass. So they held me in the psych ward for two weeks and one of the psychiatrists suggested trying ADHD meds. I’ve suspected that I have ADHD for a while but I’ve never told anyone because I don’t have any of the stereotypical symptoms and I thought no one would take me seriously. I’m not hyperactive at all, my thoughts typically don’t run at superspeed, coffee gives me energy and more than two cups a day makes me anxious when I’ve heard it settles people with ADHD, I don’t lose or forget things that often, I can keep pretty good track of the time, I read lots so it’s clear I can focus if I want to, I didn’t have too much trouble focusing in school (unless the teacher was just plain lecturing and I didn’t have anything to do or look at). That last one might be a point towards ADHD now that I think about it. I’m extremely shy and quiet and do things meticulously instead of fast. The main thing I do have is wicked executive dysfunction to the point I’m bedridden sometimes, but that’s not exclusive to ADHD. Also little things like I can talk wayy too fast, boredom is physically painful, I have horrible time management, I get sidetracked with little tasks that I’ll spend way too long doing (ie. cleaning the dried paint off the lids of my paint bottles for a few hours instead of going to bed because my brain decided that needed to get done right that moment).

Anyway the psychiatrist put me on a stimulant like Adderall. Dextroamphetamine or something. At first it made my heart beat a bit faster and I felt anxiety without actually feeling anxious if that makes sense. Since I was in the psych ward there weren’t a lot of things to distract me in the first place (phone, netflix) but I found doing schoolwork easier. That psychiatrist was replaced and the new one (still not my current one) didn’t prescribe it which I only found out after I was released and went to the pharmacy to pick it up. However I got a text like a week after that saying it had been prescribed and it was ready to pick up. So not sure what happened there, if the old psychiatrist talked to the new one or what. I’ve been on it since then. The physical effects went away and it seemed to help for a while especially with the executive dysfunction. Something else happened and I ended up back in the psych ward in June where they increased the dose of my anti-depressant and added a new anti-anxiety medication for sleep. They kept the stimulant the same. But now my appetite has been shot to shit. It started June 15 (I remember cause it was my birthday) and it hasn’t picked up to before-hospital levels since. Most days I’m eating maybe 500 calories. I’ve lost 10 pounds and my period is late when it’s usually scarily regular. I try to eat and it’s like every part of my body is rejecting the food. Even drinking is hard sometimes. I’d almost compare it to my mom when she was on chemo, it’s that bad. I talked to my family doctor, a nurse and doctor on my province’s medical help line, and my psychiatrist. All of them say it’s from a different medication. My family doctor couldn’t do much of anything since she didn’t prescribe it and I’d need to get my psychiatrist to transfer my care over to her before she can. The nurse said it was likely the medication they increased and I could tell she was researching the medications while I was talking to her. She was the most help and she thought I might have had mild to moderate dehydration as well since I wasn’t drinking much of anything either. She set me up with a doctor who said it was the medication they introduced for sleep instead. And basically that I should try eating. As if I was just choosing not to. My psychiatrist told me it was unlikely to be the anti-depressant they increased even though it’s one of the first and most common side effects you see for it online.

But there seems to be a consensus that if I had to go off a medication it would have to be the stimulant. I tried that for a few days and my energy was so low I had to stay in the car while my sister went grocery shopping. I couldn’t do anything. My appetite did get a bit better but I’d rather starve than feel like that. Here’s the problem though. Does that mean I’m addicted? It’s basically speed right? And aren’t ADHD meds supposed to calm you down and focus you rather than give you energy? And neurotypicals use Adderall recreationally for energy, so isn’t that what I’m doing? But if it gets me out of bed and able to care for myself does it matter? I don’t want to bring this up to anyone because I’m afraid they’ll say “nope that’s not how people with ADHD react to this medication so we’re not prescribing it” and not give me another method for handling The Symptoms. And I don’t wanna make a big deal out of my appetite thing for the same reason. It’s easier for a psychiatrist or doctor to remove a medication rather than switch up another one or change the dose. Should I stick to my guns and insist I have ADHD even when I’m not sure myself? Could my low energy and executive dysfunction be from depression even if none of the treatments and therapy I’ve had for that changes anything? What if they’re working off of the stereotypical hyperactive pre-teen boy image as the default patient? Because when you compare me to that I definitely don’t have ADHD.

[pri5cillasanchez]

10/04/18

So a lot has happened surprisingly since I’ve last written on here. It’s Thursday today. Previously on Sunday night, I had mental breakdown. After studying, I all of a sudden wasn’t feeling good at all mentally. And it’s crazy because you would think with the book I’m reading about guidance to spiritual enlightenment and not being controlled by emotions/thoughts would help, but I’m starting to believe that there’s something really wrong inside my head that’s preventing me from applying the things I’ve been reading and what I already know what I need to do, towards my life. I feel like living and getting through the day is becoming increasing harder with every passing day, kind of feels as if I’m losing myself slowly. But anyways back to my story, so Sunday night I was losing it. I felt on edge extremely and my thoughts were eating me alive. At that point, I don’t even remember what I was thinking about, or if I was even thinking of anything at all. Or maybe I was thinking of too many things all at once and feeling too much at once that it all started to become a blur. So I decided to do something impulsive and drive 35 mins away to the beach at 11pm at night and stayed there for roughly an hour and a half. I’m not sure what came over me that night, all I felt was that I needed to get away from everything, somewhere quiet where I can just sit in front of the ocean and listen to the waves crashing against the sand and everything around me. I needed to be alone for once and figure out a lot of things in my head, actually not even that, I needed to let things go in my head. My ex boyfriend used to take me to the beach pier to watch the ocean when I’d feel uneasy about life, so I figured why should I stop doing something that brings me calm simply because he’s not around anymore? I realized I need to start being more independent and continue to live without someone by my side. And it was the most calming feeling, sitting there on the pier, by myself under the somewhat starry sky, no one really around me, and simply watching the ocean in front of me. I attempted to apply the things I’ve learned from the book I am currently reading, and whenever I found myself become too critical or judgmental in my head towards my self, I dropped that thought immediately and proceeded my attention towards the ocean and my surroundings again, sulking all in in order to be present in the moment and what is in front of me rather than suffering in my head. Just like the waves of the ocean, I imagined my thoughts to be similar in a sense that I need to let them come and go. I realized I was holding on to so many things, mistakes I’ve made in the past and a lot of things that went wrong that were in not my control constantly replaying in my head, and that I need to let them go if I’m ever going to move forward. I realized I was letting a lot of things that I do not have control over, affect me and how I feel about myself as a person and it should not be that way. Just as my doctor said to me, I care too much and that will always be my weakness if I do not learn how to set boundaries. As I was leaving the beach, I noticed there was another guy around my age as well sitting on the opposite bench from me. I felt as though I was looking at a mirror for he also looked like he was there to get away from the things in his head. He looked lost in thought while gazing off into the ocean and up at the stars, and sad. I realized in that moment that I am not the only one struggling, that I am not alone and I shouldn’t be feeling as though I am anymore. As I was leaving, he seemed as though he wanted to talk, he would glanced over at me briefly but I continued to walk away. Maybe that was a mistake I don’t know, I just felt as though I needed to be alone that was the sole reason for me going there and that I simply have too much emotional baggage at the moment to introduce more people into my life. I need to work on bettering myself and falling in love with myself again before becoming involved with anyone else.

So that was Sunday night and I thought I was feeling somewhat better after spending time to myself. Then Monday morning came around and I woke up feeling overwhelmingly off and on edge again. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I had this sudden urge to check my blood pressure in the morning and it came out extremely high at 157/118 (I normally have high bp but this has been one of the highest recorded). Repeated it three more times and it was around the same values. For some reason, I kept pacing back and forth in my house and talking super fast to my mom. Remember I told you about my random periods of sadness then all of a sudden spurs of heightened states? I felt it happening again and when it happens I don’t have much control when it comes to calming down. My thoughts felt as though they were going at 100 miles/hour. I could not get out of my head and it was beginning to become overwhelming and everything began to felt like a blur again. My mom & I ended up going to the hospital because she was worried about my high blood pressure. They retook my blood pressure 8 times at the hospital to confirm that my blood pressure really was that high. After explaining to the nurse what my symptoms were, which I told her was just feeling on edge all the time and constantly pacing, she scheduled me to see the doctor for both my elevated bp as well as anxiety. It took me by surprise but at the same time it didn’t. I figured maybe it’s time I sought out professional help instead of dealing with everything on my own. I’ve done so well dealing with all my problems myself but maybe I’m a tipping point now. So once I met the doctor, I’m surprised how much I was reluctant to talk. The first thing he asked was “Priscilla.. what’s going on with you? I heard your bp is way too high and possible anxiety?” I just said I don’t know. Then the strangest thing happened that I never would have expected to happen. He was talking to me more and more about depression/anxiety/self harm then he asked if everything was going okay in my life. I looked him in the eyes, tried keeping myself together, and lied as I said “Yeah I’m fine” then something inside me cracked and I began crying in front of him, then started apologizing for crying. I felt so embarrassed because I want to seem like I have it all together and that my problems aren’t even that serious and maybe I was just having a bad day or something. But no, I started breaking down in front of him. Then he asked if I ever had feelings of harming myself or others, and I told him not anymore and that I haven’t cut myself for about a year now but I still constantly think about it, but I don’t act on it. He then asked if he could look at my arm and I felt so embarrassed seeing my own scars. I couldn’t stop crying I didn’t know what was coming over me, it’s just nobody ever really asks if you’re doing okay or how are you. When it looks like you’ve got your life together and have accomplished a lot for your age, nobody ever bothers to ask if you’re okay anymore, it’s just assumed. He then asked what I was sad about and what I would think about that made me feel like this, I told him I don’t even know at this point and it’s literally just everything. He said I needed to start opening up if I wanted him to help me. I’ll probably express and verbalize my thoughts on a deeper level once I start meeting with my psychiatrist they’ve set me up with. Hopefully that helps. The doctor concluded his visit with me by stating that I suffer because I care too much about everything/that I do not know how to set that emotional boundary and that I need to let go of thoughts, people, places, things that do not make me feel good about myself because these are whats causing me to become easily manipulated and taken advantage of. He also said that he usually does not prescribe psych meds to patients that state they’ve only been feeling this way for a couple weeks because he said those are situational. But because I told him I’ve been feeling like this for years and have been silently dealing with it on my own, he prescribed me on antidepressants that he said will help lift me up and calm down my thoughts due to anxiety. He then set me up to see a psychiatrist next week so we’ll see how that goes. I’ve started taking my blood pressure meds.. but haven’t started my antidepressant meds yet. I’m a bit nervous that it’ll have that effect where it mellows me out so much and that I’m not going to be fully present, not going to be myself anymore. That there’ll be no more highs, just all lows. But next week, I’ll begin them and see where it goes from there.

[kylieryanette]

SELF LOVE BURIED

So, you've gotten through the beginning years! Buckle up, it gets worse from here. I will be getting into the more severe abuse from here on out, so this is a trigger warning for anyone who may have difficulties reading from here. The next few blogs will discuss years 6ish through my adolescent years and high school, how my self-love got buried under years of being told I was worthless, sexual assault, mental and emotional abuse, among other things.

After we left Wisconsin, my mother once again left Dirk, and we moved to Bloomfield, IA where we lived with my great-grandmother again, and Dirk moved to Omaha, NE, 3.5 hours away. During this time, Dirk started dating a lady named Sandy. My sister and myself went to visit Dirk in Omaha, and we met Sandy and went to Fuddruckers. At this time, I was approximately 8-9 and I was not dealing with Dirk dating another woman, so I called my mother bawling, wanting to go home. Little did I know that Sandy would be a permanent force in my parents marriage (she isn't the villain I made her out to be in my mind).

When my parents got back together, we moved to Glenwood, IA, a bedroom community of Omaha, and my parents were both working in LTL (less than truckload) sales, so they were gone all day, and once again, Dirk was gone on "business trips" all of the time. He was working for Midland Transportation at this time, and brought a couple of shady characters to our home, disguising them as "friends". It wasn't until later that I learned he was involved in a theft scheme with these gentlemen, but alas, he was never caught, only his partners.

There are many shady instances that I remember happening at this time, to include Dirk threatening a backhoe operator, who conveniently passed away less than one week later from "heart issues". I was 12 years old when this occurred, and I had the forethought at that age to walk away from the situation. When Dirk asked me later why I had walked away, I simply stated "because I didn't want to testify against you". Please tell me what 12 year old thinks that way, or has had to make that decision, well this 12 year old, as I knew he had a body count at this point, he used to brag about how no one would ever find the bodies. Something he has recently said about my mother and myself, which has caused us to get security cameras installed around our home. During this time, I also started experiencing disturbing and severe health issues, which were dismissed by Dirk and doctors for over 25 years, but I remained active and high achieving, as to not deal with the abuse at home if I did not perform at peak level at all times.

I remember one time sitting at the coffee table eating cereal from a pottery bowl. Dirk was going through my backpack (one of the rare times he actually gave a shit about what I was doing). I had gotten a B on a math test (I struggle with math), not the class itself, just a test. He proceeded to walk over to me, grab my bowl, and throw it against the wall, sending pottery fragments and cereal flying all over the living room. It was at this moment that I realized the only way I was going to make him happy was to be perfect, absolutely perfect, no mistakes, ever. You can imagine what that did to my 12 year old psyche. He would call me "half-assed Kylie" if things weren't done to his standard, which was unobtainable most of the time.

During this time, my parents fought incessantly. I would hear them at all hours of the night, Dirk telling my mother that he hated her, didn't love her and that he wouldn't have to have affairs if she were a better wife, even though she literally drove herself to the brink of insanity trying to make him happy. She was focused on us, her career and her weight, as Dirk covetted good looks and a slim, beautiful figure, anything short of that was embarrassing for him. This caused a lot of issues with not only my mother, but me and my baby sister as well. Both Kaitie and I had an unhealthy relationship with food; her, not wanting to eat and making sure she stayed slim, me, yo-yo dieting and making myself sick to keep that ideal. One of those instances where parents don't directly instill these ideals in their children, but through watching and listening, we learned. We also learned about alcoholism, extensively, during this time. large

I watched Dirk drink himself into oblivion every single night that he was home. He couldn't have a meal, including breakfast, without a drink. Johnny Walker Red and water was his drink of choice, although I knew how to make a mean screwdriver by the age of 10. If it wasn't hard liquor, it was Bud Light. If Dirk wasn't drinking, I was wondering what was wrong. He once got to drunk that he decided it would be a great idea to take my sister and I on a ride in our Porsche on the icy country roads, after having an argument with my mother, resulting in us losing control and spinning on the ice, something that gravely scared my mother as well as us. Scaring people was something he absolutely loved doing, and would talk about his intimidation tactics and whom he had used them on frequently, violence and intimidation were standard ways of dealing with issues. During this time I dealt with issues of self worth at school as well, trying to fit in and not really knowing where to turn.

My friends at this time consisted of a mixture of personalities. Most of the kids had their groups that they had since elementary school, but I had gone to 5 different elementaries, so I didn't have that core group of friends. I threw myself into basketball and school, trying to be the best at everything I did, not the best I could be, but the absolute best, because anything short of that, in my mind, was unacceptable. The basketball court was my happy place, and I spent every free minute I had at one of the basketball courts in town, playing pick-up games or one-on-one with my mother, which was always a tough game as she is an extremely talented ball player. I dealt with a lot of rumors and nasty comments as my mother was my coach and comments such as "you only start because your mom is the coach" were thrown at me almost daily. Comments like these stuck with me, making me work that much harder. I was constantly trying to outdo myself and my peers, just to feel some sense of worthiness.

Social functions were a huge source of anxiety for me, as I was constantly second guessing the words that came out of my mouth. Something I still deal with daily, at the grocery store, church, wherever really. One school function will never leave my memory, unfortunately. I was at the Corn Festival dance in Glenwood with a bunch of my friends, and their parents who were chaperoning. Dirk had gone out with some of his friends and decided to come crash the kids dance. He came into the church, found me in the middle of the dance floor, and just starting screaming nonsense at me, in front of everyone, drunk, I was mortified. My friends mom jumped into action, shooing me away into the girls bathroom until they had successfully gotten him out of the building, to say I was embarrassed is an understatement. This wasn't the worst thing to happen in middle school though, that would come where I least expected it, and with zero support.

When we lived in Glenwood, a family with 3 young kids moved in across the street. The father befriended Dirk, and we all became family friends. I would babysit for them a lot when they would go out together, this was a very normal thing until one night. The mom was out of town, the oldest daughter at her father's house, and the dad out with his friends at the bars. I went to bed in the oldest daughters bed, waiting to fall asleep. Around 1 am, the dad came stumbling in, drunk as a skunk. He then proceeded to come into the room I was sleeping in, and crawl into bed. I told him that he was in the wrong room, he proceeded to say "I know", and continued to lay there. I was paralyzed, what was I supposed to do? I had been raised to be a people pleaser, how was I going to gracefully get out of this situation? He then proceeded to try to touch me, I finally came to my senses and jumped up and ran home. I cried all night long, waiting for Dirk to wake up so I could tell him. The time came, he woke up and I told him. He told me "He was just drunk and probably thought you were his wife." I was dumbfounded, his wife?! are you serious?! This bedroom was on the other side of the house! I felt worthless, dirty, and that my body didn't matter. This is not a lesson a little impressionable girl should learn. I learned more about sex, unhealthy sex, in the next few years than any young person should.

Ok, I promise I will get to the lighter, easier things, but the only way to get to that point, is to get through the hard stuff. Stick with me! You don't get to appreciate the beautiful light without trudging through the darkness :)

[imaginarycircus]

What it’s like to explain that you have ADD to a new psychiatrist...

(this is a long and messy to illustrate my point. you do not have to read this unless maybe you’re stuck in a peat bog waiting for someone to come rescue you. if you are one mobile? I am sorry.)

Because my psychiatrist suddenly quit his practice with no warning and the practice didn’t contact me--I’m scrambling to find new doctors. I have time to do it so it’s not a total disaster so far. But I hate having to break in new psych/medical people. I either feel like I am making stuff up and exaggerating OR I forget important things like, “I have a history of epilepsy and asthma. Did I tell you that? Ooops.”

My mental health and cognitive situation is weird and hard to explain. It just sounds ridiculous. I have inattentive type ADD, sensory processing disorder, some anxiety, and chronic depression. I have a history of ptsd stemming from childhood abuse. So that sounds like too much and I immediately want to distance myself from it and pretend I am totally normal. Look at me. I am a normal. I can totally process what you’re saying despite that weird humming sound of some electronic device or those overhead lights. No. I wasn’t just randomly making sounds or humming while trying to think. I totally did NOT just swap all the letters or syllables around in what you said or what I wrote to make new words and phrases. And I am not laughing at them at all because then I’d have to explain that I am giggling about words turning into other words and I’m sorry were we having a conversation?

If you’ve been hanging out here a while you’ve seen what happens in my tags. I’ve tried to explain before. That is literally what it is like in my brain all the time: Here’s three thoughts. You can finish two. The third will lead you on a meandering path and hopefully you won’t stumble into that fen and drown. Those peat bogs are deadly from what I hear. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I need to spend an hour reading about how to make it through a peat bog so I don’t drown.

lol do you think I am kidding?

So. To make a long story as long as I could possibly ever make it--I called the new psychiatrist and they want to interview me about my ADD. I am totally fine with that because ADD drugs are crazy and over prescribed... 

Sorry. I’m still reading about avoiding death in peat bogs...

No. Wait. I am making this tumblr post about my ADD. For fun I am also doing a cryptic crossword.

Without filtering very much in this post--this is what it is like for me. Though oddly I can sit down and do one thing for like 10 hours. I can read, or watch TV, or write, or think for hours and hours without moving. This is not good. Because I will not notice that I am cold, or if I am thirsty, or hungry, or in low level pain. I can sure read a lot or get a lot of writing done. But not in a particularly healthy way. You can’t write screenplays and novels if you die of dehydration half way through. Speaking of which. I need to drink this water, which I have had sitting next to me for three hours. Oh. Just realized. I forgot to take my meds. Which is why I put my pillbox on the arm of the couch next to me. Next to this glass of water. Several hours ago.

Today is a particularly all over the place day. Because my doctor quit and I ran out of adderall over a week ago. I now have some because my GP wrote me an Rx. I am going to take my very small dose and things will quiet down somewhat.

The thing I wanted to describe from the start is that I called the new psych office and spoke to them last week. We set up two appointments. And I knew I was getting confused when the lady was telling me dates and times and office suite numbers and jumping around. But I wrote it down and I thought, “No. It’s okay. You totally understood what she said.” So I didn’t clarify. And yesterday I knew I had an appointment today and I set up reminders because I live in fear of forgetting appointments or meetings of any kind.

My calendar today said: dr “smith” 29 002 12:30 PM

So here’s part of the problem. The woman told me to come 10-15 mins early to fill out paperwork. I don’t know if my appointment was at 12:45 and I noted show up at 12:30 or if my appointment was schedule for 12:30 and I was meant to show up by 12:15. So I showed up at 12:10. The problem? My appointment is next Monday.

And that notation? I know it looks odd. I wrote the street number, but not the street. (Which I know because I know the building.) I do things like that all the time and I don’t even notice.

What I’m nervous about is my whole history of being diagnosed with ADD. I don’t have paperwork from a previous doctor with a diagnosis. So they won’t prescribe meds for me without evaluating me. Which is fine and they should. But when I was 5, I made my first trip to a psychologist to be tested for various issues. The psychologist told my parents I was bright and very shy, but like whatever. And every year after that my teacher would be frustrated and send me for testing, insisting I must have a learning disability or something. I was never “working up to my potential.” The disparity between my test scores and my work was always extreme. And the testers always sent me right back saying, “Oh. She’s so smart. No problems.” And then my teachers were LIVID. If I was sooooo smart I must be lazy or willful or have some flaw in my moral character that made me bad at organizing and completing school work. This went on until I graduated high school.

After I graduated from college (which is a separate story) I had a therapist who kept saying she thought I had ADD. And I wanted to scream. I’d been tested for ADD like 18 times. And then I found out about being twice exceptional and I am still so angry about this. I am both gifted and learning disabled. And they fuck each other up and mask each other. So I either seem not as smart as I should be OR too smart to be learning disabled and completely inconsistent. If you have a headache from reading this--try living this way all the time. I mean, I’m used to it. I’m fine.

So now I have to take this whole MESSY history and dump it on a new doctor and hope they agree that I am not an adult seeking a very low dose of a controlled substance for nefarious reasons. I need it to make my brain settle down.

Oh. I was going to drink some water and take some meds. Ok. I did that. And you know what I was doing before I started making this post? I was half way through a cryptic crossword...

[anon-luv]

TOSKA -1- (ReaderXBTS)

Genre: Psyche/Mental Institution AU Romance & Angst

Pairing: ReaderXBTS(Taehyung, Jimin, Yoongi)

Summary: “Will you be able to recover and move on, or will your past continue to haunt you?”

Trigger Warning: This Fic will contain explicit language and scenes. It will address controversial topics. We understand psychological illnesses vary from case to case. All contents in the following story are based on fiction. This story will not be suitable for all ages, due to the sensitive topics it will contain. Hope ya’ll enjoy :)

Word Count: 4k+

Collaboration with @riki-leigh-c

Author’s Note:

@anon-luv Hey Guys, I am so excited/nervous to post this fic. I hope you enjoy it as much as we are while writing it. You know I love feedback, so let us know what you think. Feedback, Comments, Reblogs, Likes, and mentions greatly encourage us writers. We are going to leave the final pairing as undecided until we further develop the story. Minor Grammer Mistakes. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

@riki-leigh-c : This is my first time writing a fic. Please bare with me, any constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

“Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness.

"No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level, it grades into ennui, boredom.

 White.

In most cultures, it signifies purity, comfort, holiness, cleansing, a beacon of hope.

For you, white had quite a contradictory meaning. To you, white meant prison, endless appointments, a padded room, the pages of the daily journal you never wrote on, and the shirt stained with red that laid upon his chest as the bullet sealed both of your futures. The future that had ended for him, and the one that had gotten you locked into this place.

The monotonous routine and smell of antibacterial flooded your days, causing a sense of panic. If it wasn’t for your best friends’ every other day visits, you would’ve probably collapsed of boredom.

 PTSD, that is what they said it was, the hallucinations, the ones that kept you up at night. Whatever it is, it was the only way you could see him, as if he was still here beside you. You didn’t want to close your eyes, in case he disappeared. Every morning you dreaded having to leave your room, for you had to pretend you didn’t see him standing nearby or smiling at you.

It was your imagination, you knew it…. but you couldn’t deny that just seeing him was what kept you going throughout the day. Even if reality had taken him away from you, the memory of him had fooled your brain into projecting him into your everyday life.

 It was 12:15……. Hoseok was late….. He was 45 minutes and 30 seconds late. What if he had forgotten to change those overused tires that you had scolded him time and time again to get changed?

Was he okay? Did he get sick? You had seen the rain falling mercilessly from your window pane.

The tapping of your fingers increasing in speed as the door opened again, but your eyes landed on an unfamiliar figure once again. It had been 2 weeks. TWO long weeks in this institution and Hoseok had yet to be late. He was always early or right on time.

The sweat forming in the palm of your hands caused an uncomfortable, sticky sensation which triggered your anxiety slightly more. A loud deep laugh blasted throughout the room, causing you to jump slightly. The same young man that you had seen on several occasions was sitting in front of the same black haired girl. She was constantly talking while he just stared emotionless at the white wall in front of her. He never addressed her back, but she never gave up. His eyes suddenly flicked up to meet yours and another manic laugh exploded from his lips. His gaze moved back to the white wall and the laughter ceased almost as quickly as it began.

You glanced back up at the clock on the wall. Another 2 minutes and 17 seconds had passed. Where was he?  Dark thoughts began to flutter through your mind. What if he’s had enough of you? Or what if something awful has happened to him? What if someone’s murdered him? Your breathing began to quicken, and your hands began to shake as vivid images of all the reasons why Hoseok was not there yet burned themselves into your brain, one by one. You could feel the all too familiar feeling of a full-blown panic attack start to creep its way into your chest. Breath, Y/N you thought to yourself, trying to remember the coping techniques they’d been teaching you in therapy. Gulping down air, you tried to get the attention of a warden. The sound of the door opening and closing drew your attention. Hoseok rushed in, red in the face and panting, doubled over trying to catch his breath. “Y/N” he yelled out across the room, causing more than a few heads to turn your way. He rushed over to you, already being able to see the effects of your panic attack. He put his hands on either side of your face and looked you dead in the eye. “Breath, Y/N. I’m here, I’m fine,” he whispered while using the clichè breathing technique of having you copy him. It worked though. Every time. After a few minutes, your breathing returned to normal and Hoseok patted your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, before getting up abruptly. “Y/N, I’m going to have a chat to one of the staff okay? I’ll be right back. No longer than 5 minutes, you can count them, alright?” You simply nodded in response, still slightly out of it after your latest ‘episode.

 There is a rush of adrenaline when people fall, it makes them feel like their insides bundle up, and make their way towards their throat forming a perfect knot just to come back down, just before they hit the ground. That’s how you felt at that exact moment as you saw Hoseok’s familiar messy mop of dark brown hair exit the room.

The numbness within your fingertips was now fading into slight prickles that you could feel crawling up your extremities. The heaviness in your chest that had felt like a piano had crushed it a few moments ago was being lifted, only leaving in its path a soreness that had begun to dissipate. Your pounding heart still beating loudly in your ears as your eyes traveled amongst the room to analyze the number of witnesses that had obtained a front row seat on your full-blown show. Much to your surprise, everyone was focused on their own task and you had gone under the radar. You assumed people were probably immune to the many spectacles that had taken place within these four walls.

There was only one set of brown eyes staring at you, and those eyes seemed to be more amused with the sudden predicament you had found yourself in, than worried. A small smirk lay upon his plush lips as he swept your body from top to bottom absorbing all your figure in as if you were a piece of fine art, on display in a museum.  A shiver ran down your spine. He made you uneasy. His sporadic, maniacal laughter sounded again as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He seemed like the true definition of insane. Just as suddenly as it started, he stopped laughing and went back to staring at you. You felt your heartbeat start to quicken and your palms getting sweaty, the telltale signs of another panic attack. Hoseok made a reappearance right at the moment you had started to feel your chest constricting and your throat getting tight.

“It’s alright (y/n), I’m so sorry I got here late, I got a flat tire on the way over” he said as he sat down on the cold metal chair and scooted his way forward, closer to you. The faint smell of his cologne calmed you down automatically.

The speed of your finger tapping decreased as you examined him from head to toe assuring yourself that he was indeed okay.

“You had me worried, I told you several times to get that thing you call a car checked Hoseok” you said as you grasped his hand “I’m sorry for taking away your lunchtime, you are honestly the only reason I am not in solitary confinement right now, this place is bonkers”.

Hoseok gave you a wide smile as he looked around the area examining the patients surrounding you “Yeah… it does seem pretty crazy huh? It is only for a bit though, Y/N.” Hoseok smiled brightly at you, a smile you always thought looked as bright as the sun, before shifting his chair to sit next to you and gently pushing your head down to rest on his shoulder. “I don’t know about that Hobi,” you sighed deeply, closing your eyes while a montage of memories filtered through your brain at the use of his nickname. You breathed in his comforting scent, already knowing he would smell just like springtime. “I don’t feel like I’m getting better.”

The silence that followed your statement thickened the air that surrounded the both of you. Hoseok looked into your eyes hoping to see the familiar twinkle of hope you used to carry around before that horrible night.

“Well, you know ...Rome wasn’t built in one night. Just promise me you will try, participate in activities and let the counselors in. Please do it for me” he said pouting cutely your way.  You lifted the corner of your mouth in a slight smile, but your heart wasn’t in it when you answered. “I will.”  

The dorm you had been assigned lacked personality. Just like everything else, it was white from top to bottom, with a few accents of a washed out green and mustard yellow. Whoever participated in coordinating the color scheme might’ve been color blind. Despite the general distaste you had for your room’s superficial overall look, it was the only place you felt at ease in. The rock-hard bed was unusually homey, and the fact that there were no windows gave you a sense of safety for some reason. No one would be able to sneak in through your window while you slept. Just the thought of being able to see what the outside world contained while unsupervised up-close gave a chill up your spine.

 The clock in your room showed 9pm, which meant there was a long night ahead and the dosage that had been prescribed for your sleeping medication was shit.  You were tired, but your eyes refused to close. You knew the night that laid ahead of you was going to be long and emotionally tiring. You sat on the edge of the bed trying to practice the exercises you had gone over with your primary psychologist, praying for them to work. The silence within your room was all consuming until you heard deep screams. The words were incomprehensible, but the volume kept rising signifying the person was getting closer and closer to your room. You stood up quickly and slammed your door shut, before peeking out the window, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“Fuck you! Take me back. That fucking bastard, how dare he fucking touch my shit.” a bleach blond man about your age screamed as two male nurses dragged him, one by the arms and the other one by the waist, towards the door opposite yours. He swung his right arm straight at the nurse’s jaw, which the nurse was barely able to dodge. He was putting up a good fight, surprisingly, for his size made you think he would be much weaker. You hid behind your door a bit more, only your eyes visible now. The man screamed more obscenities as he was thrown into the room and onto the bed, and two more nurses entered the room. They held onto his arms wrapping what seemed like cloth on his ankles and wrists. One of them was holding a visible needle, you were assuming it was some kind of medication. The man was no longer screaming, and you could see how his muscles relaxed into the comfort of his bed, and his eyes drooped. A sigh of relief escaping your lips, as you noticed the nurses had finished attaching the remaining restraints on him. You closed your eyes tightly as you walked back to your bed and covered yourself completely with the blanket, the fear of what was right across the hall getting the best of you. The dorm across the hall hailed a dangerous threat in the shape of a blond-haired man, and even though his features looked peaceful and quite charming as he lay immobile upon his bed, his vile words just now meant you knew better.  You felt the first of the night's many quivers in your stomach, letting you know that the horrible memories you tried to keep buried during the day we’re about to be released.

The shadow of the past, conjured now by your broken psyche, sat on your bed staring straight at you.

“It’s not real….it’s not real…..it’s not real” you kept whispering to yourself, but your eyes couldn’t stop staring at his face as he smiled….that smile you used to love  “He is not here…...he is not here…..he is not here……”

  Black circles flourished under your sunken eyes the following morning. It had been a sleepless night, just as you had predicted. The constant itch of checking up on your new dorm neighbor and the hallucination of who you thought would be your forever kept your eyes wandering around your room and sleep at bay. You weren’t due for a visit from Hoseok and only had a psychologist appoint late in the afternoon. You had absolutely no idea how you were going to keep yourself occupied in between. Maybe I’ll ask the nurses for a book or two, you thought to yourself as you changed into your uniform white shirt and pants, with matching slippers. You had just opened the door to step out when you noticed a number of nurses leaving the room across from yours. His room. After the sedative had worn off, the blonde man had screamed obscenities for hours, only worsening your hallucinations. He demanded over and over for the restraints to be removed to no avail. Eventually, he just wailed, long, harrowing cries that frightened you even further. As the last of the nurses exited the room, you caught a quick glance of the blonde man sitting upright on the edge of his bed, looking down and rubbing his wrists, before the nurse shut the door and began to leave.

“Excuse me,” you called after him, shrinking back slightly as he turned to face you. You averted your gaze and asked softly “is there any possibility of getting a few books to read?”

He smiled slightly before nodding, “sure, I’ll scrounge some up and leave them by your door.”

“Thanks,” you replied before indicating for him to leave. There was no way you were walking with your back to him, despite how nice he came across. You waited, back flat against your door, for a few minutes, wanting to give yourself a safe distance from the nurse. Just as you were about head towards the common area, the door across from you flung open, revealing the blonde man. His eyes were narrowed into slits and his rosy lips were positioned in an unfriendly frown. The fear that had gathered within you from the initial shock of his presence was slightly forgotten as your curious eyes traveled along his pale sugary white face. There were noticeable red marks on his wrists that made you unconsciously rub your own.

“Good Morning” you heard a deep voice say, catching you off guard. Your fly or fight system wanted to run away as soon as the words spilled out of his mouth, but your body was betraying you by staying frozen in place. He waited patiently for a response, but after examining your panicked expression he shrugged it off, and took a step forward closer to you “Yoongi’ he said extending his hand towards you.

You looked at his hand as if it was fire ready to burn you into ashes, but for some reason, your hand found his. Your voice though was not cooperating and all you could do was stare at his figure confused at the contrasting personality that radiated from him this morning compared to that displayed last night.

“Y/N?” he asked you as he read the name plaque outside your room. You nodded as you cautiously took a step back away from him. You felt exposed, and you wanted to escape the feeling of nausea that had started stirring in your gut. The white walls around you closing in as the image in front of you started blurring around the edges. The lack of sleep starting to take a toll on you. Your breathing had become visibly more agitated, but before your knees could give out, you felt another presence standing before you. The distorted image of an unfamiliar silver-haired boy came to view as he hummed a tune and encircled your body with his own as if to block you from any unwanted feelings that had lined up to once again drag you to the deepest pits of emotional hell.

“Calm down and try to match your breathing with mine” he whispered softly with a higher pitched voice than that of the blond boy who was still standing nearby, he seemed a bit uncomfortable as he took in the scene unfolding before him.

Your hands were gripping onto the boy’s shirt as if he was the anchor to your sanity. Before you knew it, the heaviness that had settled on your chest had once again faded into nothingness. You quickly stood up and pushed yourself away from the stranger embarrassed at your previous actions.

“Jimin” the silver-haired boy said quickly without any explanation before you could respond Yoongi welcomed himself to introduce you as well as himself.

“I am Yoongi and this is (Y/N), what you just did bro...thank you” Yoongi said awkwardly.

Jimin just nodded to the both of you quickly and then took off as if he was in a hurry. You looked at Yoongi once again, but before he had a chance to speak, you had already started walking off to head towards the common area, taking turns between facing forward and sneaking glances back at him to make sure he wasn’t pulling a stunt behind your back. As you made your way to the end of the hall you noticed his figure had disappeared back into his dorm. The shadow of what had happened still engraved in your mind as you walked into the common area, you just knew this won’t be the only interaction you had with your neighbor and the fear of what will come will more than likely be present throughout the entire day.

 “How is your sleep Ms. Y/N” the doctor asked in a fairly monotone voice. The lack of emotion in his voice aggravating you. His presence was that of a rock, and in all honesty, consulting with a wall would probably have the same effect as this.

“To be honest like shit” you replied trying to be as monotone as he was.

“Anything we can do to aid your sleeping habits?” He said as he scribbled down what seemed more like a doodle than a note on his notepad.

“Memory Foam?  Or one of those water beds. I have always wanted to try one of those.” you replied with fake enthusiasm.

The doctor took that as a queue to stare up at your figure with a serious face “Ms. Y/N, we can’t proceed with treatment without your help. It takes two to tango, so your cooperation is essential for you to improve. Now, I have registered you for some group sessions that I think will be of benefit to your case, and one of those is for patients with insomnia. That one is every night for 45 minutes, you will be learning techniques to clear your mind and be able to get some shut-eye. Also, please start writing in your journal, we find it helps patients significantly.”

You nodded no longer interested in his rant as you grabbed the paper he had placed on the table in front of you. There was a list of 3 different counseling sessions that you were expected to assist other than your 1 on 1 session. You sighed annoyed at your now crowded schedule.

 The green yard in the facility premises was crowded with bodies, some familiar, and some not, ranging from various ages and genders. When you had first arrived, you had felt out of place, but as the days went on you realized you fit in strangely amongst the people that had been locked in here. You had yet to make an acquaintance, but you had already heard a few of the stories, and in all honesty, some made your past look like a fairy tale. There were a few psychos within the bunch, and the rumors that surrounded some of the people were frightening, that is why you had isolated yourself for the duration of your stay. Hoseok had been, for the most part, the only reason you had the courage to step outside of your room. You surveyed the area, making sure not to lock eyes with anyone, nurses, and patients alike. You walked slowly towards an empty seat across the yard, body tense and eyes zipping around your skull, trying to keep an eye on everything all at once. You were monitoring the people on your left when you felt a presence to your right. You stopped dead in your tracks before whipping around, bringing your hands up to your face to defend yourself against whoever had dared to get too close. The first thing you heard was manic laughter, before noticing a semi-familiar pair of brown eyes, creased at the corners, staring back at you. You just about jumped out of your skin in an effort to put some space between the laughter and yourself.  You could feel your chest constricting and your breathing getting shallow. Please, not here. Not in front of all these people, you thought to yourself. You already knew it wouldn’t help. Just as quickly as the laughter started, it was over and the patient behind the laughter was sticking his hand out to introduce himself. Before he had a chance to say anything, Jimin came running over, shoving the laugher out of the way. “Taehyungie, what did I say?” He all but shouted at the guy.

The flourish of activity going on in front of you was causing your panic attack to worsen. Your hands felt like they were dripping with sweat and your throat had begun to feel like it was closing. “Y/N, it’s okay just breath with me again, shhhh,” Jimin said as he grabbed a hold of both of your hands and looked you dead in the eye.

He worked through the same breathing technique that he had done earlier, and you soon began to feel calm.

“Thank you,” you said softly, quickly letting go of his hands and dropping your gaze to the lush green grass you all stood on.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sorry about Taehyung,” he said as he looked down at him, still laying on the grass. He leaned down and offered a hand to Taehyung, pulling him quickly to his feet.

“Taehyung, introduce yourself the way we talked about please,” Jimin looked expectantly at Taehyung, who inclined his head bashfully.

“Hello Y/N,” Taehyung said, dropping his voice significantly in what you can only assume was an effort to keep you calm. “My name is Taehyung.”

“Hello,” you replied, bowing slightly but still not lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Manic laughter suddenly exploded from Taehyung’s lips, causing you to let out a scream of both shock and fear. You clamped your mouth, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart and took off running towards the spare seat you had originally been trying to get to.

You took a cautious glance towards where Jimin and Taehyung were still standing, clearly not expecting your escapade. Jimin raised his hand to smack Taehyung in a playful manner behind his head. Taehyung in exchange just hung his head looking a bit disappointed in himself. You averted your eyes before they caught you looking at them, hoping it would give them a clear sign that you were not fond of strange company.

You rubbed your hands against your knees nervously as you inspected your surroundings, hoping that the loud rapid beating in your ears would eventually quiet into nothingness. You took a deep breath as your eyes landed on a red rose bush. Memories of late nights hiding in your neighbor’s yards as you laid upon his chest caused your eyes to tear up. You looked at the figure that sat beside you, a perfect figment of what had been, staring right back at you.

“Jin” you whispered softly as your eyes devoured his familiar features. A pang of pain surging from the last memories you had beside him. His plump lips smiling at you like they had many times before, the temptation of leaning in to feel their warmth taking over, but before the contact was made a voice interrupted you.

“Um…..are you okay?” said a deep familiar voice, snapping you out of the enchantment of your imagination.