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caspercryptid · 1 year ago

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I just want to add on here because I had an experience with this that, while awful and stressful, ended up applicable to both my mental health journey and my physical health journey, if anyone is seeking formal diagnosis for whatever reason.

I have fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia is what is called a Diagnosis Of Exclusion. That means there is no test for fibro. There is tests for everything but fibro, and you have to go to every fucking doctor imaginable getting every test imaginable until they all come back negative. This is Fucking Expensive, and it sucks. It involves a lot of x-rays and blood tests, which are even more expensive. Allergy tests, also expensive. It was painful and awful and at the end of all of it I ended up at a pain center and they went "we would love to help, genuinely, but we need a fibro diagnosis to start treating you for fibro and we don't do that here" and I looked at the nurse and I just. Broke. I explained everything I'd been through and I ended up saying, fairly explicitly, "can you give me a referral to a doctor that will diagnose me with fibromyalgia"

And they did.

At the end of all of that was me saying the words "I need you to send me to a doctor that will BE WILLING TO GIVE ME THIS DIAGNOSIS" was the fucking miracle worker. So. For everyone dealing with this with psychiatry and psychology. Unfortunately this is a nightmarish awful process, and this advice may not be helpful to people who don't have the money or insurance to switch doctors. But if your doctor gives you this shit, drop them. Sometimes the practice you're going to will have another doctor on staff who does the same thing, call in and ask to see them instead. I have had to do this for migraines and adhd too! Sometimes you have to sit down in front of a doctor and go "I have been experiencing these symptoms and I am seeking this diagnosis so I can pursue treatment" and some doctors will hear you! It can be scary but you gotta say Treatment and not mention medications and usually that stops them from thinking you're drug-seeking.

Something I've also found helpful is to get a doctor on your side that isn't the one that can give you the diagnosis. Your primary care doctor would get bitchy if you tried to self dx with the flu without a test, but they're more likely to nod along if you describe adhd symptoms and say you're seeking an adhd diagnosis, and if you can get them on your side, they can write you a referral that will vouch for you, and then you can go to the psychologist and say "my primary care doctor sent me here for adhd symptoms" and then it's not you saying you have adhd! It's your primary care doctor! And they wouldnt get mad at a primary care doctor, would they???

Self-advocacy is fucking Hard and Awful and the deck is stacked against you but I just wanted to offer my own experience to offer a few tips for people who have the resources and to say that sometimes you do everything right and do everything they tell you to do and they still won't listen to you until you get another doctor on your side. And sometimes doctors outside the field of specialty can be the ones that are the most helpful (my primary care doctor was fantastic, and my physical therapist is actually who first went "Hey your reactions feel like fibro to me")

Good luck everyone, hope this was helpful, sorry OP for the long rambling reply this just really struck a chord with me— I haven't sought a formal diagnosis for autism even though I Know I have it because it wouldn't be helpful to me but i remember going through this with adhd and fibro and I learned a lot.

a while ago i attended this lecture on autism. guy in the audience said he had many of the symptoms that were presented and asked what should he do to get treatment and possibly a diagnosis. instead of answering his question the psychologist went on a tangent about how “the clinic reigns all powerful over guesswork”, and how actually it has become a trend amongst little children on the internet to claim that they are autistic for cool points, and that this hurts real autistic people. no she didn’t tell him how to get his symptoms looked into, she just made it very clear that to her, aknowledging your own symptoms is bad and evil and hurts the poor real mentally ill people.

an ex-friend of mine, then a psychology major and by now probably a full psychologist, once lectured me on how horrible and bad it was that i told her “i probably have some sort of neurodivergency”, and that if i were her patient she would never give me a diagnosis because “you aren’t like this now, but i know that if you get a diagnosis you’ll use it as an excuse to start treating people badly. that’s just how mentally ill people are.”

same ex-friend was extremely disgusted when she found out that fans sometimes make neurodivergency headcanons for characters that have the same symptoms as they do, and that authors sometimes write books with neurodivergent protagonists in stories that don’t focus on that (ex: she seemed horrified that percy jackson has adhd?)

multiple psychologists i’ve seen on facebook agree that they should refuse to treat patients that say “i’m here because i have symptoms of a disorder and wonder if i have it”, and that a patient should arrive to a psychologist as a blank slate.

school psychologist asked me how i was feeling about my trauma situation and i told him i thought my friends would leave me. instead of addressing the issue he said that that no i didn’t, that i was lying, that i had searched “bpd symptoms” online and now i was faking symptoms because i wanted to have bpd, that he shouldn’t have told me he suspected i had a personality disorder because now look what was happening. no, i didn’t search bpd symptoms online. yes, my friends left me, it was a completely founded belief and not a symptom, let alone a faked symptom.

so the next time you hear someone saying they’re “anti self-diagnosis” i want you to understand what they’re saying. what they’re saying is:

- i don’t want people to be aware of their own symptoms

- i don’t think my patients should have access to any information that doesn’t come from me

- i don’t think neurodivergent people should learn how to cope with their symptoms and live “normal” lives

- i think neurodivergent people should be denied a diagnosis because the moment they get one they will become evil and dangerous

- i don’t think people who don’t look like a stereotype could possibly be neurodivergent, even if they have all the symptoms, so i think they are faking it for attention and should be denied treatment

#disability info #now that im reading this its more applicable to physical disabilities #but i went through this same process for migraines #and a faster version for adhd #so maybe itll be helpful?#anyway OP if this isnt helpful feel free to send me an ask and ill move this to its own post #self diagnosis is valid

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deepdarkbrain · 2 years ago

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I've said just about everything to my therapist.

TW: all of them

Hi, my name is Ryn (they/them) and I've said just about everything to my therapist. Before I get into too much here, be forewarned, I don't want to pull any punches on this blog. I want to be able to share (just about) everything that I would share with my therapist. This blog is going to include posts about dark and difficult subjects ranging from basic mental health to suicide, self harm, substance abuse, etc. I'm 100% going to swear and say what could be considered terrible things. What I will promise though, is that I will always include trigger warnings at the beginnings of my posts and there is a permanent content warning at the top of my blog.

I want to be open and honest about these kinds of dark, intimate subjects not to romanticize them or to encourage others to follow me down what will sometimes be the wrong path. But to share my experiences in the hopes that it'll help someone else feel like, "Oh yeah, I'm not alone on this dumb planet." Having grown through pre-internet times to now, one incredibly helpful thing I've found the younger generations using is the internet to break mental health taboos. Being honest and talking about it, even with a little levity sometimes (I'm looking at you memes), can help.

I've been seeing the same therapist for many, many years now. We've worked through so many things; childhood traumas, hospitalizations, relationships, work struggles, and everything in between. We've had discussions about how shit the American health care system is and also shared wins.

They've had a couple kids. I've started to accept I'm not broken, I'm just really fucking neurodivergent. Not exactly equivalent to some, but to me, hell yeah. I'm killing it.

Here's a little background on me. I am in my early 30s and I've been dealing with mental illness (major depressive disorder mostly, plus anxiety, ADHD, and autism) for the entirety of my life. You'll notice I specifically say "dealing with" and not "suffering from," which is the more common phrasing. This is something I work really hard to do. For me personally, speaking about my MIs in a semi-light way and using specific language really helps me accept and advocate for myself. A psychologist I had in a group therapy session once told us,

Honestly that one statement changed everything for me. One of my biggest pet peeves around how people treat those of us with MIs is the age old trope, "Just think positively!" It drives me batshit insane. For one it implies that I enjoy feeling like garbage at random and destroying relationships with people I care about for no reason. And for another it implies that who I am and how I live my life is inherently wrong.

Something I'm going to tell you, probably over and over again as I write this blog, is that if you deal with any kind of MI, YOU ARE NOT WRONG. I even have to remind myself of this, pretty regularly to be honest. There is something that's going on in your life, in your brain, in your physiology that is causing this to happen and it sucks and we all wish it would just go away, but at the very baseline, it's not wrong. You're not broken. You're just different, and different is okay.

More about me, I am wildly queer and I will fight you about it. Not really, because confrontation is extremely triggering for me, but I do feel really strongly about my LGBTQ+ community. I truly believe they are one of the most welcoming, accepting communities on the planet. Personally I identify as pansexual/asexual/aromantic (pan/ace/aro) because sexuality is a spectrum and I love everyone and no one at the same time, and I am non-binary because gender norms are dead. Use whatever pronouns you want for me, this is an internet blog, who's to say I'm even a real human?

Something I've gotten into recently with my therapist is called "Internal Family Systems Therapy." So I'll probably bring it up a lot. As I am a mere mortal and not an authority on literally anything, please follow the link to read more educated material about this subject. Otherwise, here's my very, very broken down, idiot, tl;dr.

IFST is a type of therapy that centers around the idea that within every person's mind, there are separate parts with separate purposes, usually to protect the base part. Recently in therapy I equated it to, "a close cousin of Dissociative Identity Disorder," in that you think of these separate parts as different versions or personalities of yourself. For example, in my situation I feel that within my mind there are at least five separate "me's" that are all Ryn but also each their own Ryn.

Of course, firstly there is me. The very essence of who I am. Funny, smart, loving, and able to think clearly and rationally. This is the part of me that has been me from birth and will only ever change for the better. It is the base, the original. This is the part of me that wants to stand up for itself but most often gets overtaken by the other parts. Base me gets frustrated when people use MI terms flippantly (ie. "Oh I'm so OCD!" "I'm goth so I'm also depressed." "You're like totally schizophrenic!"). Drives me bananas. Just don't do it.

Next there is depression. This is the part of me that experiences deep sadness, mental anguish, self hatred, and many other nasty, no good things. Usually the depression part of me is equivalent to someone I like to call Floor Ryn. People who know me well, know if I tell them I have become Floor Ryn, it means I've gotten so low that the only thing I'm able to do is lay down on my kitchen floor and exist. It is not comfortable, it does not make me feel better, but I simply cannot do anything else. I'm nigh on catatonic. Though at other times depression is sobbing for hours and being unable to listen to music with lyrics for fear that I will start sobbing.

Because depression is what I deal with the most and what comes up for me the most, there's a lot to it. Depression isn't just emptiness, it can also be cruel. To myself and to others. It's the part that has been hospitalized for attempting suicide. It's the part that created the hundreds of scars that live on my body. It's the part that has told friends I hate them when really I don't. It doesn't care about the exciting plans the me part of me made for next week, it just wants to cry and rage and feel miserable.

Next there is anxiety, and this is the second of my more prominent parts. This part overthinks, panics, has meltdowns/temper tantrums, and tries to fix everything. It's neurotic and selfish. It's the part that picks at my nail beds. It's also both blind and hyperaware of everything around me. It's that toddler at the mall beating their tiny, fat fists on the floor while you're thinking their parent should be doing a better job parenting. This part is also surprisingly rational; it can be bargained with. It can be given evidence and shown that everything is okay. I find anxiety to be easy to manage on a daily basis. But I do have meds for emergencies.

Next is ADHD, Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. This one is somewhat new to me. I've probably always had it, but haven't been diagnosed until adulthood. This part always has at least five projects going at once (I'm an artist and just a creator in general). ADHD can't pay attention in lectures, can't stay still, is terrible at exams, needs to multitask, and constantly wants to go off on tangents. It's hyper, impulsive, and generally content, if not good-spirited. It makes me question occasionally if I inherited my dad's bi-polar disorder. I haven't; I've been told many times by many practitioners. But the thought's still there (hello, anxiety).

Finally autism, and again this one is new to me. This is the part that feels like an alien because I can't understand why you feel the way you're feeling or fathom what you're thinking. It's the part I think that is the most ace/aro. It's the part that doesn't care about dating or sex and doesn't understand how you can't live without your partner for two days. Also it's the part that can't look you in the eye when we're talking and says shitty things sometimes because it forgets that yeah, it is actually human and has to follow human social rules.

All of these personalities of me coexist at once but can also present themselves more individually. They're each trying to do something for me. Depression is, to use another therapist's words (Kati Morton), "pulling the ripcord" to yank me away from a situation it deems triggering. Anxiety is working to repair and investigate to find a solution to the problem at hand. As for ADHD and autism, I think mostly they're just along for the ride. ADHD is kind of a bro, a Gryffindor (big Harry Potter nerd here). But they have their uses, I suppose.

Am I perfect? No, absolutely not. Do I want to be perfect? Not really, no, sounds hard and depression isn't up for the challenge. In thinking about perfection, I like to think of the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi, which essentially means to embrace the beauty of imperfection. As an artist, I've heard of it mostly in the context of kintsugi ceramics where pieces of pottery that have broken -- whether on purpose or accidental -- are repaired using something that will emphasize that it was once broken. I've often seen it where the shards are attached back together with gold so that the cracks are almost more beautiful than the original piece.

So, to try to find a conclusion to this post, I am mentally ill. I have been for a long time and I will be for a long time more. I am not broken. I am not wrong. I am not perfect. And all of these things are okay. I want to improve myself, sure, but I think everyone should strive to do that, MI or not. All I want to do with this blog is share my experiences and the sometimes comical ways I twist my deep, dark brain to ease the pain a little in the hopes that someone else might feel comfortable sharing those things, too.

Because you know I totally want to hear the ridiculous and stupid shit you've said to your therapist before, no matter how cynical and morose. Seriously, so I can share it with mine next week.

#mental health #mental illness #trauma #depression #anxiety #therapy

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f4y3w00d5 · 10 months ago

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Lovely, and ive got a lil more to add.

-if youre in highschool and the school provides you with a device, thats great. My parents always have a specific tracking\security app attached to all my devices that tracks EVERYTHING i do and everything i download, and sends my parents notifs if i do, but if its from school, even if its untrue you can claim that the school dont want any security like that, and itll be more believable if you suggest another (but be careful if they ban stuff, ive fucked up a few times. thankfully Mother doesnt know how to use this one too well, and doesnt check it often, but it means if im not on home internet and i avoid blocked sites, she doesnt so much as know im on my laptop)

-DEFINITELY do not get comfortable, even using incognito. A few years back, i used a different social media platform, obscure. I got comfortable and when my Mother walked in, switched too slow. it ended up banned on all devices, and i lost incognito on my google account.

-make MULTIPLE alt emails, use one to make a gmail account. Fake names that cant be traced back to you. 'Faye Woods' is mine, Woods i took from creepypastas, created it in grade 6. not sure where Faye came from, but there are no similarities

-if your parents check your phone, randomly or at designated spots, only have the designated stuff on there. Tell everyone you text not to text about stuff youre not supposed to, or anything that might make your parents suspicious. (my friends have fucked up a few times, shit about sex, swearing, social media)

-You get to see a therapist? Do not tell them a thing about anything that could get you in trouble, at least until you know for sure that they wont tell. A year or two ago, i mentioned online friends and discord to a new psychologist. They told my mother. The school psychologist understood that itd be hell if my parents found out, and when they called her to check it, together we convinced my Mother i had checked it out once cos my friends were pressuring me. she thankfully believed it, but ive lost access to discord now.

-if your parents are light sleepers and your room is near theres, dont use then to go and sneak food or money or anything. What you do is wait until theyre out of the house, downstairs or work so that you dont wake them. if you can try and get home from school before them, thats a good opportunity too

-if theres a pet, make sure theyre used to you wandering around so that they dont alert your parents

-find someone who your parents like and try and have sleepovers with them as often as your parents will let you. you'll get fed, youll be safe for a little while.

-if your parents tell you to not tell anyone, dont tell anyone until theres enough to be able to get you away until youre an adult. I told cps about a series of stuff, cos thats what kidshelpline said. they came to my place and my parents convinced them everything was fine, and it got worse.

-think about everything they do critically. Threats are not okay. find a place to record them. Ignore your parents if they say that its fine and normal. they touch you in ways youre uncomfortable with? record it. Thats not okay either. Insults arent good either. Telling a neurodivergent, queer, or any type of kid that you wish they could be normal? bad. anything that hurts physically or mentally, record it. if you grew up with something, it doesnt make it okay. it makes it harder to recognise whats wrong, though. so record everything that hurts you, it may not be abuse, but it also might be, and its better to have it all recorded. I use a book and i pass it off as notes for school

-Flattery!!! do what they want as much as often to the best of your abilities, itll make them more lax. you fuck up after being REALLY good? well, itll still suck but it might be not quite as bad. and try and make up for it. try to avoid breakdowns until late at night and keep them quiet. I know whenever i cry my father is like 'OH SHUT UP ILL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT'. hes scary when hes angry. worse so since he tried to strangle me. if you cry when they dont see, its safer.

-get enough sleep. it makes it easier. ive gotten yelled at for not wanting to talk after pulling an all nighter. try and spend 'family' time with them, if they want. my parents like to pretend theyre good parents, and so they sometimes do family days (once directly after i was screamed at until i was sobbing and hyperventilitating and then trying to walk until i passed out)

-do avoid hurting yourself, starving yourself, any of that stuff. pain will make it harder to do what they want, and thatll prolly make it harder for you.

-try and go on walks whenever they get SUPER angry. like, at least an hour. Give them time to calm down.

-if you have siblings, back up their lies. theyll do the same with you, hopefully. look after them and theyll look after you

Thats all i can think of for now, i hope this helps

hey so protip if you have abusive parents and need to get around the house as quietly as possible, stay close to furniture and other heavy stuff because the floor is settled there and it’s less likely to creak

#save

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creatingnikki · 3 years ago

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What I've learned in 2021

1. Life is filled with its little miseries. Petites misères de la vie humaine. This is something Vincent van Gogh mentioned several times to his brother in his letters. Whenever he spoke of something unpleasant, he just mentioned it so casually. Oh, well, these are just the little miseries of life. That acceptance of this universal fact is something that struck me. And whenever I was going through something terrible but routine, I just told myself: It is what it is. Less poetic and less French but it had the same impact.

2. Just like space exploration and AI are the investment themes for this decade, ghosting people is the behavioural theme in friendships and relationships now. People will get rid of you as quickly as they do a strand of loose hair on their t-shirt when just a few minutes ago they couldn’t stop adorning their hair when it was still intact. I wish I could articulate this analogy better but what I mean is, everybody treats their hair so preciously until it falls off and is this isolated, embarrassing, useless strand. Not that you are. But people have started treating people like this. When you no longer fit their life or schedule or disposition as perfectly as you used to or as they would have liked, they forget you are this whole human being and just shrug you off. Dispose you. It sucks and it hurts and it’s unfair on so many different levels but with a heavy heart, I have to now admit and accept, that this is just another petites misères de la vie humaine.

3. I keep giving five-star treatment to people who give me two-star treatment and I need to stop rationalising that - both their and my behaviour - into okayness. Yes, there clearly is something so deep rooted in me that makes me do this. Maybe it is a trauma response. Maybe it’s just me accepting the love I think I deserve. Maybe it is me being a people pleaser. I don’t know. And at this point what I really want to do is this: Change it. I can keep figuring out the cause in the background. Clarity like that takes time. But I cannot wait to figure that out to change this behaviour.

4. You are not cool with just vibing with a guy and with keeping things casual. You want something that is undeniably real, wholesome, real, mutual. Something that is long-lasting and healthy and precious and there is nothing wrong about wanting that. Nothing at all. And if that makes you “uncool” then that is fine. Who wants to be cool when they can be happy, satisfied, instead?

5. Therapy is not all that it is hyped up to be. It’s very subjective. When you want to heal from past trauma, I can see why it can be helpful and effective. But when you are going through horrible things in the present, it can do absolutely nothing other than give you some coping mechanisms that may or may not work when shit hits the fan. Also, therapy is not this magical thing that will “fix you” or your therapist won’t always say these wise things that will be revelations. It is a lot of work and voicing things you have never been able to and sitting through uncomfortable feelings and moments. Coming across the right therapist, too, is a task. Just because someone is a psychologist or whatever does not mean they are good. You have to tread carefully.

6. Pretty privilege is a very real thing. You not liking that that’s how the world works doesn’t make it go away. It doesn’t make things any easier for you either. You rejected conventions and societal standards so consistently for so long and while I am proud of you, I also now see that to change what you don’t like or accept, you need to have the power to be seen and noticed and heard. Money, beauty, charm, these are very central to that in this world. It is what is. Get your pretty privilege back.

7. 한국어를 배우는 것은 긴 여정있어요. 하지만 열심히 공부할 거예요. 그리고 나는 인내하고 헌신할 거예요. 왜나면 이게 내가 원하는 거니까 // Learning Korean is a long journey. But I am going to study hard. And I am going to be patient and dedicated. Because this is what I want.

8. Stop being the first one to present your feelings. It does not afford you the first mover advantage but rather leaves no tricks up your sleeve. And god knows people love magic tricks. Even sincere things require calculations. Not because you are being manipulative or vain but because you need to let time allow things to run their course. And add some speed bumps to the runway of your feelings.

9. It’s only this year that I realized that your sun sign gives you a very limited and inaccurate view of your personality when viewed in isolation. It’s like looking at the rainbow but only seeing one colour. So I found out my rising sign and my moon sign and life just started making more sense instantly. My rising sign is aquarius. The one sign I always resonated so much with. My sun sign is Capricorn. Parts of which I related to but the others just seemed so inaccurate? I know a lot of people think astrology is illogical but I think that’s just because they don’t know the first thing about it. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be into it. But I am. Getting into it anyway. And I am not going to let you embarrass me about it.

10. It can do you a world of good if you pay attention to the insanely rich and successful men even if you don’t like them. Reading about how they built what they built, what their investment strategy is, what their take on the future of XYZ is, is more enlightening than you may want to give them credit for. But think of Park Sae Ro-Yi from Itaewon Class. He read, multiple times, the biography of CEO Jangaa, the man who covered up his father’s death. Sae Ro-yi did that while he was put into jail wrongfully. But he was clever. He picked up that book and he learned everything he could from it. And then he applied it with his personal values to get the results he wanted.

11. Don’t overestimate people’s feelings for you. That is dangerous. You may think someone actually cares about you because you picked up on some things they say about you or to you but the truth is words are cheap. And even actions are subjective. Someone may do X for every person and not just for someone they actually like. Don’t inflate other people’s feelings, actions, words towards you in your head.

12. Time most probably is an illusion. This feeling of not grasping how much time has gone by, how it’s already a specific month, how I am already this old - it is not fleeting. I think it’s just going to stay this way moving forward. This lowkey amusement and disbelief and inability to wrap my head around the passage of time and the speed at which it passes by me, through me, and sometimes with me. So carpe fucking diem. But not to do stupid things. To do whatever it is that you really want. There is no point to anything, anyway. You can make yourself go crazy trying to figure out what’s the purpose of life and why we are put on this earth but you already know that just means more time passes by and you’re left in a stew of your stale thoughts. Step out. Take a shower. Go for a walk even if there is microdust. Put on music. Get your favourite coffee. Do artsy stuff. Be art. Be.

13. You love iced coffee. Irrespective of the weather. It's okay. Continue.

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syscoursehell · 3 years ago

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my biggest bone to pick with pro-endos is that the majority of what i’ve seen them say when it comes to issues that they face pretty much all revolve around (mostly internet) invalidation and exclusion, to the point where i’ve seen some endos say that at least we (DIDOSDD anti-endos) are recognized as “the real ones” or like “well fakedisordercringe is laughing at all of us anyways you don’t look any better in their eyes” (the latter was a post semi recently in the syscourse tag and the former was an ask on the syscourse confessions blog). not trying to call out any particular person with this, just that it very clearly shows how unaligned the goals of pro-endos vs anti-endos are. and it blows my mind that they seem to think that not only being recognized as a DIDOSDD system is a GOOD thing, both online and offline, but that it means you’re immune from getting fakeclaimed harassed etc, or that it’s a good thing that FDC laughs at us too in the end. like, i don’t want to be “validated,” and being fakeclaimed over the internet is an annoyance to me at worst, and i don’t want to be unconditionally and radically accepted and included for everything because that leaves no room for me to potentially be wrong or grow as a person. and tbh this is why i think there’s no broader “plural” community because there’s a complete misalignment between the endo community vs the DIDOSDD community, and we as anti-endos know this by now because so many DIDOSDD systems have come out about how endo bullshit harmed them. sorry to dump a novel in your inbox lol it’s just been on my mind

Yep. they're also ignoring the fact that a lot of people who wind up on FDC are minors, who probably aren't safe being recognized as having DID/OSDD/UDD in their household, even if they have a therapist or have been professionally recognized. It doesn't make us feel valid, it just sucks. I've also had friends/mutuals from other platforms wind up on there, and the harassment they face is fucking horrific on a level you wouldn't believe, not to mention winding up on cringe comps just for being mentally ill on the internet. They don't see that people don't believe us. They don't believe that we exist, or they believe that we're too rare to be real. It's an uphill battle to get people to even listen to us, and it's exhausting.

Adding onto that, though, you're absolutely right. They want internet validation and inclusion, even if it excludes others. They can't seem to wrap their minds around the fact that being a system is so much more than just alters, so they build a community around one facet of the experience and push themselves into this anti-recovery mindset of "I don't need therapy, because my system isn't traumatic" even though having a system in of itself is only born out of trauma. Hell, a lot of them act like every psychiatrist/psychologist/therapist in the world is evil, so they surround themselves with the anti-psych community and ignore actual scientific facts about things that do, in fact, matter and need scientific backing.

I'm not saying the psych system is good. It's not. It sucks and needs major reform, and my personal experiences with it have been less than stellar. But that's no excuse to act like every professional who knows their shit is out to get you. There are good doctors out there. There are good, helpful people in this field who want nothing more than to see people thrive.

I also absolutely get your point. Blind inclusion and acceptance leaves no room to grow. It's not a foundation for lasting changes, and it actually behaves in quite the opposite manner. It makes it difficult for people to change when they realize what they're doing is wrong, because they've become comfortable just being accepted without any sort of questioning, or being asked to think about their stances. Not to mention, when all your friends are part of that situation, it makes it so much harder to leave.

Also, being diagnosed can lead you to getting more medical stigma in the future. I have BPD. I was not diagnosed by a former therapists choice, because if it was on my chart, that would make so many medical professionals treat me differently. It would make my life harder in the long run. But that doesn't mean that I think people shouldn't get diagnosed, quite the opposite. I just think that people need to be able to get the help that they need.

This is a tangent turning completely incomprehensible, but that's my thoughts. Thanks for the ask!!

#syscourse

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noah-moth-cursed-chaos · 2 years ago

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Being mentally ill sucks bc whenever I have a breakdown I have to be like “I know I look like I was crying. I did cry.” And the reason you say is just incredibly stupid and like that’s not the real reason but like “I feel like I have no control over my life and I’m just a useless piece of shit trapped in for a roller coaster I didn’t sign up for and a billion tiny things have been making this feeling worse and worse and today I couldn’t take it anymore and had a screaming crying fit and I think I bruised my legs by hitting myself to get myself to calm down enough to stop crying” isn’t something you can just lay on anyone who’s not a trained therapist or psychologist and even if you could it’s not like they can really help beyond going like “Shit dude that’s rough” which would be a perfectly valid response bc yeah it is rough but also isn’t what either of us need. What we all need is for me to be fucking medicated.

#i want to be back on mood stabilizers so badly holy shit #I want to feel in control of myself even a little tiny bit #vent #vent post

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princessphilly · 4 years ago

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Lovely banners made by @whatishockey

I drew on my own experience receiving extensive PT for this chapter.

Word Count: 2668

tag list: @nazdaddy @texanstarslove @shortstacks-blog @missymore @hockeywocs @puckbitchesgetmoney @defiant-mouse @myhockeyworld87 @chicagostylehockey @laurenairay @fiveholegoal @besthockeyfics @newlibrary @linkingdolans @heatherawoowoo @konecny-s @willieshakesqueer @joelsfarabee @himbos-on-ice @cutiesara23

Join the tag list here!

Over the next couple of months, it became increasingly clear. Nina Jackson, DPT was probably the toughest but fairest of the physical therapists at the site. If she assigned you exercises to help fix whatever issue you were having, she expected you to do them. Nina didn’t care about Geno’s glowering looks, Mur’s standoffishness, or any of the egos of the team. Many times, Nina told them, her job was to ensure that they could perform at their highest ability. Performing at their highest ability meant listening AND implementing her advice.

It was also very clear that The Kid had a crush. Sidney didn’t do anything that was obvious obvious but it was clear that he had heart eyes for the newest PT. He lingered in her presence; he always found a reason to visit her office. It wasn’t every day but the excuses were pretty flimsy to Nina. But she knew just how powerful Sidney was and she had no desire to alienate the star.

Nina had to admit that once he stopped staring at her, Sidney was reserved, self-controlled to the point where she wanted to suggest a sports psychologist, yet he had such a wry sense of humor. He made little observational jokes which let Nina know that he paid attention to pretty much everything. Sidney’s dry humor and sly sarcasm amused Nina. She knew he liked her but she liked that he wasn’t an overbearing oaf making her life miserable. At the same time, Nina didn’t encourage him. She read that contract when she took the job and despite how cool Sidney now was, it wasn’t worth it.

However, at the facility’s Christmas Party, things changed.

Every year, the facility had a party just for the staff. Sometimes players came as special guests but it was usually just the staff. There was mistletoe everywhere as well as all of the other symbols of Christmas cheer. Nina had changed her braids to green for the season and was having the time of her life. Working at the Lemieux Center had its ups and downs but so far, the past four months have gone well.

Nina made her way through the party and to the bathroom. Reentering the party from a different entrance, she bumped into something hard that had stopped directly in front of her. Nina was tipsy enough to admit that it felt very good until she looked at the logo on their shirt.

“Oh shit,” Nina muttered. Sidney’s abs felt good under his shirt but in her desire to forget that, Nina looked up. Of course, she bumped into him under a sprig of mistletoe.

Tanger grinned wickedly at his teammate, enjoying the slight blush on Sidney’s cheeks. “Lucky, Sid.”

Nina’s cheeks felt hot with mortification. This was probably the worst-case scenario. No one had said anything but she read her contract and she knew that this was skirting the line. She muttered darkly, “Let’s get it over with.”

Nina tilted her head up and pecked Sidney on the lips. It was a soft press of lips but there was a shock of electricity. Nina moved back and looked up at Sidney. He was looking down at her with a strange expression on his face before he kissed her. His lips slid over hers and Nina melted under him. It felt like an eternity, his tongue slipping into her mouth, taste of punch and Christmas cookies and something that was just him. He licked inside of her mouth, swallowing her moan as Nina grabbed his shirt. Then she felt his hand touch her hair, keeping her in place as Sidney sucked her lip into his mouth. Then, it just ended and Nina felt bereft. Nina closed her eyes. This was a fucking gamechanger.

Sidney looked at Nina with wonder. He truly didn’t try to manipulate Nina under the mistletoe but he was thankful. Her lips were just as soft as he thought they would be. She tasted like heaven and Sidney wanted more. But Nina had already quietly moved away and Sidney felt like he just received coal instead of his favorite gift.

“You’re in trouble,” Tanger stated.

Sidney glared at the defenseman while Tanger gave him an angelic smile. Kris Letang wasn’t particularly that romantic but he saw the connection between one of his best friends and the PT. Sidney looked around for Nina and when he saw her, the look in his eyes reminded Tanger of how Sid looked on the ice when it was time to score the game winning goal. ‘Poor girl,’ Tanger thought, ‘She has no idea what she is in for.’

“Normally…. I would be encouraging you to have a relationship. It’s good to have someone to come home to our league,” Mario started. Sidney started to fidget; he knew exactly what Mario would say. Mario had been on his case about getting serious about dating someone and settling down. He had his off and on girlfriend Kathy but he never really found someone he really liked, until now.

Mario continued, “Having a serious girlfriend would be great for you. You need someone who can help you think of something other than the game. But we have a problem.”

Sidney stopped fidgeting, his gaze sharpening as he absorbed the grave look on Mario’s face. “What’s the problem?”

“Nina has a no-fraternization policy in her contract she signed to work here. We love her; she is absolutely amazing working with the boys and Rick and Lori say she’s great with the public side. However, she’s off limits.”

Sidney closed his eyes. Normally, he absorbed the advice from his mentor with no issues but now, he wanted to fight it. “Is this because I kissed her at the Christmas party,” Sidney quietly asked.

“Yes and no. A kiss can be explained by mistletoe and Tanger and Guenzy egging you on. But I see the way you look at her and I know others do too-“

“How do I look at her,” Sidney interrupted, feeling a bit embarrassed and angry for Nina.

Mario sighed. He hated this, he didn’t want to do this but he had to and it made him unhappy. He wanted to see his protégé happy and it looked like he was taking that away from him. “You look at her the way I look at Nathalie. I hate this but, you have to think about Nina and her future. I know you mean well and that you haven’t done anything but I don’t want people to make up rumors and ruin her career because you can’t help but look at her like she’s the puck and it’s playoff double OT.”

Sidney slumped in his chair at Mario’s words. He instinctively knew that Mario was right but this was one of the few times in his life that he couldn’t work and take what he wanted.

Mario sadly smiled at Sidney. The competitor in Sidney was thinking of ways to get around it but Sidney’s rational brain won out. “So basically, leave her alone.”

“I’m not saying never talk to her but you may want to back off for a bit. And if Nina decides to ever leave on her own, it’s open season.”

Nina absentmindedly packed the extra KT tape back into the box. It had been a month since the kiss and she still felt unsettled. She wasn’t a virgin; while Nina didn’t date indiscriminately, she had dated and fucked her share of men. But that one kiss had set her world off-kilter. Now, Nina felt worse because Sidney was avoiding her.

Every day, Nina tried to tell herself it was okay that Sidney was avoiding her; it had become a bit annoying. However, she was missing his sly, sarcastic wit, those earnest brown eyes, and how he always gave her his full attention when she had something to say.

Sidney himself was not having a good time. Ever since looking into those unfathomable deep brown eyes, he was lost. At the same time, he also knew that pursuing Nina was not a good idea. The Penguins staff was tight-knit and Nina had ambitions, desires to move up with UPMC. As much as he would love to take care of her, Sidney also knew from his interactions that Nina would be devastated if her new career was ruined.

So, Sidney did the only thing he could do: avoid her. Like all men, he thought avoiding Nina would be easy but his teammates figured that out pretty quickly.

“Just talk to her, this is awkward,” Jake said to Sidney while they did post-practice stretches.

“Talk to who?”

Jake rolled his eyes as he did a quad stretch. “Don’t be dense, Cap. Talk to Nina. Everyone knows you two kissed under the mistletoe and now you’re acting weird. You’re making her look bad.”

Sidney gulped; that was definitely not his intention. He avoided Nina because that desire to kiss her again was amplified every time he saw her. However, he didn’t want to make her life harder for her. It didn’t help that they were all a family; Mario wanted the team and everyone around it to be close. Sidney didn’t want to just be close with Nina. He muttered, “I’ll say something to her before we leave for Colorado.”

After finishing his stretches, Sidney showered and changed. While the rest of their team made their way home or elsewhere from the complex as tonight was an off-night, Sidney went in search of Nina. She wasn’t in her office so Sidney wandered through the halls, towards the area where the general public received therapy. Looking through the door, Sidney noticed Nina helping a younger woman. Tossing a ball against the wall, Nina blew a whistle as the girl bounced the ball back and forth, moving laterally. Muffled because of the door, Sidney heard Nina praise her, saying, “Great job, Joelle! You’re starting to move better on that right leg!”

Sidney moved away with a soft smile on his face, hearing the ball bounce against the wall again. He was in awe watching Nina with her own patients. Carefully walking away, he planned his apology for ignoring her.

Meanwhile, Nina laughed. She noticed a face with dark hair and brown eyes looking at her with her patient and so did Joelle. “Was that Sidney Crosby,” Joelle asked when Nina gave her a break.

“Yup.”

“Cool,” was the response as Joelle watched Nina set up cones. Joelle groaned; she loved her PT but Nina could be downright evil with some of the activities she set up. But as Joelle walked over to the cones, she had to admit that ever since she started physical therapy here, her strength and ability to use her right leg had improved tremendously. “Do you work with the team?”

“Sometimes,” Nina replied as Joelle carefully ran around the cones. “Don’t worry, I’m just as tough on them as you.”

Sidney was still avoiding her and Nina had decided to stop giving a fuck. His problem, his loss. Men were a different kind of stupid. Therefore, Nina didn’t care that he had been outside of the door while she was working with her patient. Not her problem at all.

Joelle laughed before groaning, placing her hands on her thighs.

“One more time, and then you’re done,” Nina encouraged her patient.

After Joelle finished running around the cones and cooling down with stretches, Nina made her way to her office. Noticing the giggles and sly looks from the secretaries and other therapists, Nina bit her lip as she opened the door to her office. Expecting the worst, she was surprised to see a beautiful bouquet of daisies, peonies, and other flowers on her desk. Leaving the door open, she rushed towards her desk. Picking up the card attached, Nina read Sorry for being a douche. - SC

“Oooh, Nina has a boyfriend!”

Nina stuffed the card in her pocket as Gretchen came into her office, pulling her blond hair into a ponytail. Playing it off, Nina glibly replied, “Just someone who wants to be my boyfriend. I’m still deciding if I want him.”

“Don’t let Sid find out,” Gretchen warned with a wink.

Nina shrugged. “Like I care.”

Gretchen tsked as she left Nina’s office, closing the door. Nina grinned as she pulled out charts from her bag and started working on them.

The past several months were the quietest months for Nina since she started working for the Pens. The team was doing really well and there were hopes that they would repeat as Stanley Cup winners. Nina was hoping for the same; she missed last year’s parade and Nina had been sick for the parade in 09.

It was also the playoffs and Nina quickly realized that the rules about injuries no longer mattered. It was more about pain management than anything else so she wasn’t needed in the same way. The team was about to enter the Stanley Cup finals and the only thing that mattered was winning the Cup.

After giving her the flowers, Sidney had returned to his dry humor and observational humor whenever Nina interacted with him. But those interactions had dwindled as Sidney focused on winning his third cup. Nina had to admit to herself, this relentless competitor side of Sidney was hot. He was willing to do everything possible to win and will his team to win another cup. As someone on the sidelines watching it all, it was pretty awesome.

Since Nina wasn’t a part of the game team, she watched the games from home with her friends. It was a roller coaster of emotions, culminating in the Game 6 win in Nashville where the team won the Stanley Cup. Watching Sidney lift the cup with a roar, Nina hugged her friends as they all jumped up and down, making plans to go to the parade together. Two days later, the Stanley Cup was at work. Nina looked at it in awe, her brown eyes wide as she was able to look at it up close and in person.

“You can touch it.”

Nina turned around and it was Sidney with Mario, Ron Burkle, and a couple of guys she surmised were bodyguards. “I-I- I can’t,” she stammered. “It’s so amazing-”

“Just touch it,” Sidney urged.

Mario added, “It’s here for the staff to have their turns to take pics. We couldn’t have made it without you all.”

Nina touched the Stanley Cup before pulling out her phone. Unlocking it, she tossed it to Vince, one of the physical therapy assistants. “Take a picture of me with it for me, please,” she asked.

“Just you or with Mr. Crosby?”

Nina looked at Sidney who shrugged. “Sure, maybe my fam will finally leave me alone about working here and not having anything with the team on it.”

Everyone laughed as Nina stood on one side of the cup. Sidney stood on the other, a smile on his face. Vince snapped several shots and handed Nina her phone back before giving her a high-five. “Thank you,” Nina sincerely said to Sidney and everyone else with the team.

“No problem,” Mario replied while Ron nodded.

Making her way to her office, Nina looked at the pictures. The first two were perfect, just her and Sidney smiling around the cup. But the third had caught Sidney looking at her and that smile was different. Nina sighed. He still had that crush on her. But her own heart skipped a beat the long as she looked at the soft smile on his face. “Oh no.”

She couldn’t.. Fuck she couldn’t. Nina closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She couldn’t like him too; it wouldn’t work anyway. It was time to start dating again.

#drabbles #blurbs #sidney crosby imagines #sidney crosby #penguins #penguin imagine #penguins imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #all bets are off #Sidney Crosby imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction

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isaacthedruid · 3 years ago

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dear 12 year old me, a poem by isaac

Dear 12 year old me,

Hi, how are you? I’m 18, how was your day?

It’s been 6 damn long years now, let’s me show the way.

You like Minecraft and youtube, guys and girls!

Ooh congratulations, you’re gay.

Also, you quit ballet.

So we’ve cut off our hair and binded our tits.

We’ve been a dad to kids whose own haven’t given a shit.

You’ve done theatre and art and even more theatre.

And if you haven’t guessed it yet, you’re no longer a sister.

Hi, I’m a mister, you should’ve known that you like girls when you kissed her.

There’s no reason to be scared,

I mean look at me and see how well I’ve faired.

This fear we’ve felt was for no damn reason,

Your family is accepting so go enjoy the pride season.

You may not fit the clothes wear,

A tuque to hide that long brown hair.

Sharpie whiskers, scribbled on papers, it’s all gonna be okay.

Dan and Phil are also gay.

Eventually, you will find friends,

And they are a much-needed cleanse.

They will love you, and cherish you and treat you like a person.

They are with you, even when the days start to worsen.

The days and days of laying in bed,

The reminders that this is just in your head.

The thoughts too fast to think,

The possible ADHD boiling to the brink.

So here I lay:

Constantly questioning my reality,

Thinking that my friends hate me.

Save me.

Something please, talk to me.

My shoulders always hurt and my eyes don’t work too well

It boils and builds and suddenly, I feel the eggshells,

Cracking, breaking, shattering beneath me

Sit down, take a breath, please!

Just drink the tea.

Self-deprecation, self-actualization, god!

I need a vacation!

But no, I can’t take a break.

I’m driven by the need to succeed or all of this is some fucking mistake.

Everything I worked for, my hours and time,

Does any of it string a rhyme?

The club, the theatre, the youth-driven action,

What happens when I make the subtraction?

I can’t pull out now, it barely began.

Just don’t watch me as I pull out an organ.

Constantly I sit, wanting to tear off all my skin

While breaking all my limbs.

Call me a skeleton, I am thin.

White as a sheet, so let’s keep this discreet.

Kresblamania, it's insania!

Set me alight, pyromania.

Call me a skeleton, megalovina!

Do you remember that little game called Undertale?

Well, it’s taken over your world.

Unfurled.

Despite everything, it’s still you.

Boohoo!

Suck it, Buttercup and get it tattooed.

A constant reminder of all the things you’ve been through.

Whoo-hoo!

An unhealthy relationship, um, make that two.

I wish I could pull something, anything- A switcheroo!

But this isn’t up to you, this isn’t your fault.

This is just 6 years of emotional assault.

This is an unaccepting person, here and there.

A pride poster that they felt needed a tear.

So paint all your cares away,

Tomorrow is just another day.

I think what I’m trying to say is that it’s all going to be okay.

But I’ve got a question for you, actually two.

Am I the person you wanted to be?

When we were eight when you imagined me,

I’m probably falling all your expectations but that’s the key to life, kid.

Adaption.

We grow and we build and we change,

It’s okay to rearrange.

We said we were going to be a farmer when we graduated kindergarten.

A massage therapist when grade eight came to an end.

An actor, a psychologist.

Now being a teacher is up in the mist.

Our future is unknown but despite everything, we have grown.

So I must ask you this, do I make you proud?

#lgbt #lgbtq #transgender #trans #poetry #my poetry #lgbt poetry #poem #lgbt poem #trans poetry #trans poem #personal poem

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andromedaspark · 3 years ago

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Yes I'm posting about my autism. Fuck you.

I can't get diagnosed in my state (South Carolina)

Period. I just can't. There are no clinical psychologists who do autism testing for anyone who isn't like 5 or under.

Not even expensive ones. There's just None.

If I were to get diagnosed it would have to be in North Carolina or Georgia.

Since I'm not a toddler it's going to 10 times more difficult for me to get a diagnosis.

Since I'm AFAB it's going to be 50 times harder to get a diagnosis.

Since I also have ADHD it's going to be 100 times harder to get a diagnosis.

I want a service dog for my autism because

They can help with crowd control (they circle around you to push others back)

They can help with my skin picking disorder

They can help alert others or my guardian if I start to have a panic attack or meltdown.

They can help with mobility

They can preform active coping mechanisms

They can help encourage me to leave the house more

See, a service dog would be ideal. But my family can't afford a diagnosis for autism much less a service dog for said autism.

Service Animals with training are work.

The average autism service dog costs between $30,000 and $50,000 to be fully trained before joining their forever family. (Source)

I have autism, depression, panic attacks, C-PTSD, social anxiety, and am HOH. That's just with this one list.

I only got diagnosed with (at the time) Severe Chronic Depression, GAD, and (technically, at the time) ADD very recently, in around 2018-19. I was almost hospitalized. I was severely chronically su*c*dal and was actively engaging in SH (in my own 'unique' way).

My mom figured I had autism when I was like 4. She never told me.

That lead to social isolation, social anxiety, a good part of my depression and Daily Burnout + Meltdowns.

Luckily I'm past most of that now (after years of therapy, after 5 therapists and a psychologist, years of adjusting medication, DBT, CBT, PCT, Gestalt Therapy, bits of ERP, and even Somatic therapy)

Anyway back to the Diagnosis

Autism testing can cost between $3000 and $5000. (Source)

So why does a Slip of Paper from a psychologist in another state have to cost more than 5 new phones?

Fuck if I know. I'm not enough of an idiot to figure that one out.

But it pisses me off

Because it would cost about 4k for a diagnosis, then 40k for a service dog. And my family barely had 300 dollars spare to just throw at shit.

$44,000 for a dog and a piece of paper telling me what I already know.

And I just want accessibility. But they put prices on it that make me feel like my suffering is worth it because at least I'm not drowning in debt.

And I already have 4 dogs, but pets and service dogs are Very different.

I can't have anything good. And it sucks.

So next time anyone says they don't believe I'm autistic I want 4k cash in my hand by the end of the week or I'm going to go apeshit.

For legal reasons that is a joke

In all honesty I don't expect anyone to read this. This is purely just a jumbled up rant of all my tired autistic brain screaming.

I'm on the highest dosages of my Depression+Anxiety medication and my ADHD medication. If I want to go up I have to get a different medication.

And that scares me.

Even more so now that we have a new doctor that thinks my ADHD medication is a joke and doesn't think I should be on it at all even though I've been on it for a year now and it's done amazing work. It's just not where I want to be.

Anyway if she takes my meds from I'm just gonna bite the bullet and start taking weed.

I mean what's she gonna do? Arrest me? Maybe. Weeds illegal here. But fuck yall you made my medication inaccessible so I'm doing it my damn self.

My neighbors are smokers and they aren't shy about it, and my moms friend is like A Weed Veteran with how long she's been taking it and making stuff with it.

She started making cookie edibles and I swear to god. They have the weed ground down into powder and used with the flour in a half substitute ratio. They look so fucking good. I want the Calm Down Cookies. They're sugar cookies too which are like my fucking favorite thing on the planet.

And my mom wants me to start with the gummies but I Fucking Hate Gummy shit. I'd rather rot in hell than get gummy stuck in my teeth. But it's a small price to pay to work up to weed cookie.

And I genuinely thought about the Ecig THC because those are things and they taste good (supposedly) and it's 'not as bad' as unfiltered blunts. And the aesthetic of smoking is neat to me. But I decided against it because it would be more of a hassle than it's worth. It's risking my already shitty lungs and my sensory issues along with overall health and future complications. Edibles you get a snack And a good time And your lungs get to live another day.

Anyway I've done way too much research on weed and let me just say. They make up the wildest names. I can see a strain called "Fuck bitches get money" and it's good for like making you hungry and tired. There's like "cactus fetus" and it calms you down and is good for sleep. Like Bitch.

Anyway do you think in California they can UberEats you weed now?

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miracleonice87 · 4 years ago

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Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

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shinidamachu · 3 years ago

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I have an off top ask, but I figured I'd give it a shot because I use your Tumblr to distract myself a lot, it's my go-to source for when I'm overwhelmed. Anyways, lately I have been completely overwhelmed with anxiety due to some big life changes. I've always had anxiety but it's getting a lot worse. Do you have anxiety? If so, would you feel comfortable sharing how you deal with it? Thx so much, you're a gem.

First of all, thank you so much for reaching out. I'm honored that you see my Tumblr as a source of distraction when you're overwhelmed! I try my best to make a safe space out of this blog and it means a lot that it worked with you.

As for anxiety, well... I don't know for sure if I have it, because I have never seen a therapist and I don't feel comfortable self diagnosing. Especially because it's a serious mental illness and the last thing I wanna do is to treat it lightly by making a false equivalence with "normal" anxiety.

That being said, I do remember the very first time I had a "Whatever This Is" attack. I was a middle school kid and my history teacher made a question for the class. A question I knew the answer to. I wanted to raise my hand and speak up, but the thought of it made my heart try to burst out of my chest and I was totally paralyzed.

It only got worse from them on. College was particularly challenging in that sense. I've cried because of tests. I've cried because of essays. And this could be relativelly ordinary, except that, usually, I hardly cry.

And more often than not, I can spot the exact reason why I'm feeling that way. For instance, I hate to speak in public to this day, so when I'm forced to do it, I know I'm gonna shake and stutter and wish I was hit by a bus so I wouldn't have to do it... but sometimes, I'll just... wake up and feel this way for absolute no goddamn reason.

It affects me mentally by making me procrastinate important tasks, double check informations I already knew for the hundredth time, getting one hour earlier to a place because I was too afraid of being late, dreading phonecalls and text notifications from certain people, etc. But it's how it affects me physically that really sucks: I lose all appetite, I feel constipated, I get restless, my hands go cold.

And it happened every single time I had to make a life changing decision. It's like a little voice in the back of my head narrating the worst case scenario again and again. And it won't leave me alone until I start believing it will happen, that I'm a fraud and that my future is bleak.

Personally, I deal with it the way you seem to deal with it: by distracting myself. I put on a comfort movie or series. I read fanfiction. I scrool through Tumblr. I listen to music. I think to myself: what would make me happy right now? And then, if it's possible, I do it. If it's not possible, I take deep breaths and try to focus on the good and, to me, that is the finishing line.

Because nothing is eternal and, whatever it is that is making me feel bad, it will go away eventually. Sure, it will be replaced by the next thing that will make me feel bad, but hopefully I'll get some good days between one and the other. I also realized that I avoid doing things by fear of messing it up or finding out I'm not good at it. It helps when I break the process down into small steps or pretend I have my shit together as much as everyone else.

Of course, this is just me. If I do have anxiety, it's been quite manageable by myself so far, but I cannot stress enough that different people with different levels of anxiety might need different methods of dealing with it. Not everything works for everyone. Some people exercise, some people talk it out with someone they trust. There's no right answer. You gotta figure out what works for you.

However, if you're feeling that overwhelmed, I highly suggest you go see a psychologist. I know it can be expensive, but if you're short on money like the rest of us, maybe you can find someone willing to work pro bono. Professional help is very important.

Now, I don't know which big life changes you're going through right now, but I want you to know that you're not alone, even though it might feel like it. We've all been there, in a way or the other, but that's life. It's scarry. It's frustrating and not always fair.

But I have no doubt you'll figure it out and become all the more stronger for it.

#Sidmailing #Good luck anon #I'm rooting for you

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tonya-the-chicken · 3 years ago

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I’m not going to change your views but it does feel a bit dismissive when you say it wasn’t that bad because he had rich parents who neglected him but hey they got a maid for him and he probably wasn’t outcasted or bullied so hey it’s not that bad right 🤷‍♀️! I don’t know he definitely didn’t have the worse out of the villains but I don’t know it felt a bit dismissive is all. Although we need to all remember these are fictional characters so have no idea why the other anon needed to get so aggressive! Also the person in the notes I don’t know how to say it but uh the whole the Todoroki’s had a rich father they didn’t have to work a day in their life take is not a good look. Just because someone has parents with money it doesn’t derail the fact that neglect can cause trauma.

Anyways for the real reason I sent this, you wonder why Dabi is so insane. Well take into account the neglect alongside the fact that he burnt to near death up on that hill alone at the age of what 13? That’s got to be extra traumatising, especially for a child that was already not mentally ok. We also don’t know what his circumstances were like after that fire, like was he homeless? Or picked up by someone nefarious? Kind of like AFO(not him exactly but someone nasty) who maybe fed on his brewing anger and hate instead of positive healing. I’m sure we will find out at some point? I don’t think it was just what happened in the Todoroki household or the fire that broke his mind? There had to be other factors after the fire after his “death”!

[[WARNING!!! I love Dabi as a character but I am not a woobifier so if you are too much into him don't read!!!! No complaints taken, y'all will be blocked for being rude I am too old to deal with people unable to interact with me in good faith (anon it's not for you, you are good and I can't understand your point of view I am just not as good as a person and too old for that shit)]]

I don't think I will change my mind either but I feel like the belief that every trauma is equally bad is just... Simply wrong. Like, we can legit compare this stuff and how badly it affects our brain, what do y'all think psychologists research 🤷‍♀️ Like, your therapist won't tell you this because it's not their job to make you understand you not the centre of the Earth (and it won't help because it is a legit trauma response that is very valid but is annoying you're fucking 25 yo). And to say that, neglectful parenthood is probably the worst parenthood style, as far as I know XD I wrote coursework about this (neglectful bitches are having a lot of need to make us the biggest victims (the bitches is me))... It also feels really American to me? Like, are we going to pretend people who got to live in a nice house and were neglect somehow got it as bad as people living in poverty or warzones? Hello? Imagine telling some orphan "I know you have no parents but actually, my trauma of my father not spending enough time with me is just as severe as yours". Bruh couldn't be me sorry... Like, even taking into account the fact that we can have weaker or stronger nervous systems or be more prone to depressive episodes *looks in the mirror and cries* I simply wouldn't find the guts to say my trauma is as severe as idk people who had physically abusive parents or no parents at all or who were disowned for being gay

And like **again** I am not saying that neglect is not traumatic I WAS NEGLECTED THIS IS TRAUMATIZING AS FUCK. I just am living in a country at war and with lots of discrimination problems and I like... Can't say I am the biggest victim. Sorry I can't though there were times when I was a lot more bitchy especially before being in therapy so I understand where you are coming from and I know what I am saying won't resonate with everyone (it's ok go on your own healing journey I believe in you) but this doesn't mean it is garbage and won't help me or someone else... I've already talked once about it but as a person, I am very easily irritated and envious and really not your local Jesus and partially my trauma turned me like this so being more humble about my sufferings helps me not be a complete bitch (believe me or not but people with traumas and mental illnesses are often insufferable *looks in the mirror* not me though I am perfect... BUT IT IS OK TO BE INSUFFERABLE OK??? like, bitch, that's normal. That's normal to stink when you are depressed it's ok to be a bitch when you are hurting. Forgive yourself because I forgive you (when you are not being an abusive asshole but if you apologize and explain yourself I will forgive that too)

The reason why I talk about the fact he is rich is that I've got a disease called leftism and I am a person of several marginalized identities and since this fandom LOVES looking at characters like real humans, I looked at Dabi this way. And if Dabi was a real human, I wouldn't sympathize with him one bit. I would fucking hate him for being the biggest entitled asshole who commits crimes for the reason his Daddy didn't give him attention. Bitch, my Dad didn't give me attention either! But somehow I don't kill people! And I don't even have money!!!! But like... I am not denying that neglectful parents are not a problem. It is. But he is overreacting, bro. He needs to humble down and recognize the fact he is a fucking idiot (he is). He has inherently so much more resources to recover and heal himself than I had... Yes, I am just being jealous at this point but honestly. Making an entire country suffer for you is not a good thing and y'all need to stop using trauma and mental illness as an excuse for people. No! Being abusive to people because of neglect is not valid, is overreacting and you had no reason to do that. I am dismissing your trauma because you are exaggerating it to make me sympathize with your asshole behaviour. I won't judge people with different sets of standards as I judge myself

I bet it would be dismissive and bad if I said it in conversation with someone who is currently struggling with mental health and is not a murderer. But guess what! I don't talk with humans and my friends the same way I talk on my Tumblr about fictional characters 🤷‍♀️ Not to mention I don't have rich friends akabsksbxm

I think with Dabi there's this whole thing where we saw him at 14 (poor baby boy) and 24 (a grown-ass boy) and... Like, I am so sorry for 14 years old Touya not receiving the help he needs (bruh so relatable) but I am not gonna act like 24 years old bitch can't get his ass to a psychiatrist (extremely unrelatable and infuriating). We shouldn't apply the same standards to kids and adults. We can talk all day long about how society is bad and how our parents ruined us but at some points, you gotta take your life into your own hands and do something and be an adult. And it's fucking hard when you're born with a shitty brain that was fucked up by your parents even more in a society where no one gives a fuck but I sincerely don't know another way to live. You will feel bad and want to die but you either keep on recovering or keep on getting worse and at this point getting worse is Dabi's *choice* That's how I live, that's my framework and I am, of course, extremely fortunate in a lot of ways but I just don't know how are you supposed to survive without the notion that grown people are responsible for themselves and their mental health. We can't act like adults are babies

But as a character, Dabi is fucking hot ngl. Like, do I sometimes want to murder my entire family, make them suffer AND commit terrorist attacks? We all do. Dabi is the dark fantasy of us neglectful bitches craving some attention. Gotta kill the president and tell everyone that my Dad sucks. Imagine the entire country hearing your Dad sucks? That's the juice, that's the dream. Trauma makes you vicious. I get the sentiment. Imagine all those fuckers who made you feel like shit pissing their pants and crying? Imagine your Mom being afraid of you the way you used to be afraid of her? People do have the desire for some violent justice but like... Think of bullied kids committing school shootings. But instead of a kid, it's a grown man who graduated school and who also have a rich father

Ok too much about irl stuff and philosophy shit. I know my way of talking is kinda brute so just know the way I treat people is different from that I treat fictional characters, in particular, I don't call real-life humans submissive and breedable... And stuff...

Damn Dabi is kinda good to project your hatred of your parents in bruh, I should write a fanfic about that (would be cathartic)

To the plotline, I am also very interested in what the hell happened with him after burning because... How the hell he wasn't found? I kind of DON'T want him to be groomed at this point because I feel like it won't be as cool as him just more naturally evolving into what he became. Like, surely, he is an asshole but consider this: as a villain, he is morally obligated to be an asshole

I feel like someone hiding him and Touya overstating the gruesomeness of his living conditions to the dude so he feels *bad* for him and hides him and feels sympathy and Touya gets attention but also begins to reassure himself in the fact his Dad needs to be punished... Idk it's a lot of mystery but I feel like more suffering won't deliver the point the way I want it... I mean it CAN be handled this way and initially I thought a lot about Dabi being brainwashed a bit or having his memories altered so it seems worse to him or even him being groomed or lied too but nowadays I am not into it. I mean I believe in Horikoshi and that he will handle him well 🛐

I talk a lot so I will summarize

If we judge him as a real human

14 yo Touya - DID NOTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE PROTECT HIM

24 yo Dabi - go fuck yourself bitch you older than me and act like a child and kill people, I couldn't care less about your trauma rich boy

If you want me to talk as his psychologist

Yeah, it is painful and sad, I understand him so much and surely, his trauma is valid as is his hatred but probably revenge won't bring him what he wants. And what he wants is love and attention. But he gotta make choices that will lead to his healing. He needs to *want* to heal. And we will step by step go to the healing because it is possible. He is loved and he is enough. AND YOU ALL MOTHERFUCKERS WILL HEAL I BELIEVE IN YOU BESTIES

Also his therapist (behind his back)

You won't believe it but my client is the most infantile attention whore I've ever met

But if we talk about him as a character... Very delicious soup

If you talk with your friends

Please, if your friends are being abusive to you or someone else don't even LET them say how their trauma made them this way. No. Nothing allows you to be an abuser. Call them out and stop them and make them talk to the therapist. Like, surely, there are extreme situations like severe mental illnesses or extreme neglect where we should be more forgiving but babying adults won't do you any good and won't make them recover

Yeah, I guess this is what I forgot to say. When I say "it wasn't that bad" what I mean is that I would be more forgiving to people who had it worse. It's more of a personal measure where I can tolerate stuff from people who had particular traumas or from those who suffered greatly (it's not my place to be a bitch here). I can forgive 14 years old or a poor person for stealing stuff but not the 25-year-old man who got no need for money and is not a kleptomaniac. I would be more forgiving to Shigaraki than to Dabi because Shigaraki was groomed a whole lot. Same for Toga, who is not even an adult or Twice who is a poor orphan. But that doesn't mean I would forgive them completely. All of them are shitty people. It's just that they had fewer resources and possibilities to not be what they became while Dabi had more but he acts like he is extremely hurt and the biggest victim which is like... There will be people like this in your life, please, don't make friends with them, they WILL abuse you

I talked a lot damn. It's adhd I can't shut up

#asks #bnha #bnha manga spoilers #todoroki touya #bnha dabi #killing people is a legit coping mechanism #I mean I possibly do sound dismissive I am very brute in my talking but I really can't be bothered #all I am saying that I am not dismissing neglect what I am dismissing is the idea that is is bad enough to justify Dabi's reaction #neglect was bad Dabi's reaction is disproportionate though #you. don't get to kill people because your Dad didn't love you #you do get to kill people if those people killed your family #just so you understand #I got tired of talking

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ablednt · 4 years ago

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aren’t u that blog that constantly promotes self dx and bashes professional dx? like self dx is fine but it’s a last resort for people who can’t access prof dx.

I don't bash prof dx, first off. I fully understand and respect people who needed one for any reason.

However self diagnosis should never be treated like a backup for if you can't get a prof dx and here is why:

(Disclaimer: exact details vary by country making this not fully accurate in every country also I am not saying that treatment is bad or that therapists are inherently bad I am currently trying to seek therapy but any good therapist will treat you without a diagnosis if they are aware of the legal consequences of one)

You can and likely will lose your rights for your diagnoses. It's different by country but in the US if your diagnosed with things like DID, Autism, and probs a lot more you won't be allowed to go on HRT if you're trans. You may have your children taken away if you have any, you may be prevented from donating or receiving blood or organs, if you have abusive family members they may be able to put you under a conservatorship (what happened to Britney Spears) etc.

Literally the vast majority of psychologists do not study these disorders! Do you know what they do when they prof dx? THE SAME SHIT PPL WHO SELF DX DO. The dx process is exactly the same but with a professional dx you have someone who doesn't have that thing, who has no actual first hand experiences, listening to you talk about that thing and telling you whether or not they think you have it with literally no input from the community.

By saying every one has to try to be prof dxed before they're allowed to self dx you're saying that people of color should put up with blatant racism because there's so many documented biases.

Also the criteria that therapists use to diagnose is found in the dsm5, have you read it? I have, it says that autistic people cannot take care of themselves that they're prone to self harm bc of their autism and that they should have their needs ignored it uses all the labels that autistic people ask it doesn't. It says that even if an adult fits all the criteria of ADHD that if their parents arent available to say "yeah they sucked at school and were annoying" that you shouldn't diagnose them. The criteria for personality disorders, schizophrenia, and similar are all intentionally vague and/or exclusionary to one highly stereotyped set of symptoms. They literally admitted to trying to make the criteria for DID as specific and exclusive as possible because they wanted to remove it entirely because they believed people dxed with MPD before DID was coined did not deserve treatment.

The field of psychology started historically to abuse people, they were thrown into asylums and literally beaten and subjected to horrible conditions for any presumed mental illness. This actually has not changed very much at all, even in the last century a psychiatrist was caught physically abusing his patients and using the theory he made on DID to force them to keep coming to him for therapy. Psyche wards are notorious for mistreating patients there in every aspect and I've had psyche students tell me they believe that psychologists should have the right to physically harm patients. Children professionally dxed with autism are often physically harmed at school by their teachers, physical restraint is still used and it's killed multiple autistic students.

Children and teens in abusive homes have ableist parents often who may get violent or worsen the abuse or use a dx against them legally to trap them at home. Do you give them a pass for self dx? Except here's the thing you literally don't know who's being abused and who isn't and asking ppl that is really fucked up so you should be accepting all self dx to create a welcoming and safe space for them.

Physciatrists actually misdiagnose more than people mis-self-diagnose. Which isn't a reflection on the psychiatrist as much as the fact that people know their own experiences but they very often can't explain them. An example before I met someone who had OSDD1 and would explain it to me from first hand perspective no one would have ever suspected I had a dissociative disorder and was plural Because the only words I had for my experiences were "everything before a certain date literally wasn't me idk I'm just not the same person I was" "I'm a really good writer because I talk to characters in my head all day and they respond to things even when I'm not trying to think about them and they're real to me somehow idk lol" none of that sounds like DID but I was actually describing memory gaps from switches, internal communication and presence of fictives, etc. The best guest anyone had was depression and an overactive imagination. Self dxing is literally more accurate and accessible because people can look at the community and see the disorder explained from first hand experience.

Historically (but it's still happening in some cases) therapists would literally refuse treatment to anyone who talked to other people with their diagnosis. The case I'm thinking of is people with MPD (the dx that came before DID replaced it) would be refused therapy if they spoke to anyone else with MPD outside of therapy and even forbade them from going to support groups for survivors of incestual abuse because those groups advocated for the rights of people with MPD. To this day therapists often disrespect any and all ND/mentally ill communities because we happen to know our own literal lived experiences better than them.

Oh and prof dxes are often used against people legally so if anyone is in a minority group often targeted by police that potentially puts them in even more danger if they're arrested. Least we forget there's an entire field of study dedicated to criminalizing mental illness.

This isnt even half the reasons but I'm running out of spoons (I can source most of these things but I don't have the spoons so if anyone needs a source just ask)

I'm a firm believer that the need for prof dx not be pushed on everyone when it can have permanent and negative consequences and is no better than a self dx. If someone needs a diagnosis for access to medications, for financial support, or for any other legal reason then it very well may be worth the risk but they need to have the right to understand the consequences and make that decision. Imo it's professional dxes that should be not a last resort perse but it shouldn't even remotely be your first steps, your first steps are find the community and hear their actual lived experiences bc that will be so much clearer than anything a therapist who doesn't experience that thing can explain.

Also why do you care if people self dx? Why does their not having an Official Document saying they have their disorder bother you? I think it's deeply unsettling that you think everyone in the entire world needs YOUR approval to have something.

Jsyk the sentiment that self dx is lesser than prof dx is fostered by our capitalist nt society that's benefiting off of our abuse and systematic oppression so like you're literally helping us stay oppressed with this rhetoric.

If y'all really want to be progressive and anti-capitalist like most of this site does (and should) then that goes for disability justice too. Stop helping our own communities abuse and accept that not everyone has the luxury you apparently had to never be affected by your diagnosis ever.

#long post #outbox #negative #abuse tw #ableism tw #psychiatric ward tw #psych ward tw #police tw #ask to tag #self dx discussion #anyway if you think you personally approve who deserves a self dx then youre disgusting and need to figure something out for that power trip

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