#and I don't get withdrawal type symptoms if I don't have any

[chaos-in-one]

Having a sugar intolerance while also regularly craving sugar fucking SUCKS

Like my brain and body is almost constantly going 'eat sugar, eat sugar NOW' even if I'm not hungry or have just had some

But if I actually do eat sugar my entire digestive system launches an assault against me for it from anywhere between 20ish minutes to 3+ hours

[pygmi-says-hi]

any writing tips on drug withdrawal? specifically opioids?

yup!

opioids are narcotics (intense pain meds) and hiiiighly addictive. The type of opioid might effect the specific withdrawal as well as the severity of the usage before cutoff.

If the person is using narcotics for medical reasons - they are severely injured and they are taking low doses - it's likely they'll be weaned off. This means they take an increasingly smaller dose until eventually they stop taking it.

This minimizes psychological and physical symptoms to prevent further use and potential danger. There might be couple days of wooziness or irritability but likely they'll be ok.

if the narcotic use is recreational - they are taking it to get high or they don't need it anymore but still fell like they do - the withdrawal will more likely to be unscheduled and severe.

The issue with severe cutoffs of opioids

if the body has gone too long developing a dependence on the drug, it might go into shock after not having it. This could lead to a seizure or a cardiac event. (this is in really severe addictions, but it is a possibility).

timeline of symptoms: (regular is physical, bold is psychological)

You can look this up on samhsa but I'll make it quick.

immediate (24 hours after last dose)

fever, chills, nausea, dizziness, profuse sweating, hallucinations, insomnia, intense acute paranoia and anxiety

later (72 hours)

anxiety, irritability, paranoia, exhaustion, diarrhea, muscle cramps, body aches, dizziness, profuse sweating.

much later (first week and on)*** this greatly depends on the addiction severity, and psychological symptoms take precedence over physical if the addiction is severe.

cravings, insomnia, mood swings, onset of depression, suicidal ideation, irritability, weight changes, body aches, tremors, profuse sweating, cramps

Writing psychological symptoms accurately.

Psychological symptoms of drug withdrawal in general are kind of person-to-person. The character might had a specific reason they decided to start using. This reason will likely have a role in the way their mood swings/irritability/insomnia show up.

It's intense and lessens over time

The first month is like hella bad. Aggression, mood swings up to 100, probably some weight loss that might effect strength, paranoia. After that, if they receive treatment, the symptoms might lessen. The tricky thing about opioids is that the symptoms hang around longer than most addictions.

As in, the character will still have cravings for years (true also of nicotine and some others, but the severity of opioids is insane). Longterm symptoms are depression and cravings, and likely stick around for a while. The character might stay hypersensitive, or they'll succumb and start using again. Your choice, both have avenues of interest.

if the character starts using after a long time of not using

it gets harder to break the addiction every time they relapse. Statistically I think the chances drop something like 20% but I could be wrong, look it up. Either way, there's also a higher chance for overdose.

Because they had been taking a dose of (x) mg for a long time, their body adjusted and eventually needed more. However, their body after weaning off isn't able to handle that amount of narcotic right out of the gate. If they take a high dose immediately, it might shock the body (again) and they could overdose.

hope this helps!

[cumaeansibyl]

okay this is my biggest conspiracy theory except it's not really a Conspiracy Theory because I am not actually positing a shadowy prime mover who planned the whole thing from the start. that always ends up in wildly antisemitic places where I do not go, and also I don't think anyone in history has had their shit together enough to mastermind Schemes of this type. my theories are always more like "this happened serendipitously and at some point maybe someone noticed and took advantage but there's certainly no central figure in charge."

so we start with the normalization of overwork in our society, since roughly forever. in modern times this led to abuse of medical and recreational stimulants -- everyone was on speed in the 50s and coke in the 80s -- but we all kind of figured out that was a bad idea, for the most part. what we still had after the white powder settled, though, was caffeine. totally legal, totally normalized.

but people were still overworked, and they also still wanted to have energy after work, to do fun things with the little free time left to them.

enter energy drinks.

unlike coffee, which still has the feeling of a daytime beverage and also to some extent a workplace beverage, energy drinks are an anytime food! you can even get them in mixed drinks for a night out. they're for work AND play. they come in a wide range of dose strengths, including a shooter for when you're in really dire straits. after all, taking caffeine pills feels like "pill-popping," but having a little beverage is fine, right?

at the same time, there is increasing interest in remedies for a variety of unspecific ailments caused by "toxins," the new buzzword in a very old industry of patent nostrums and dubious cure-alls. the theory is that some sort of unspecified substance has entered your body, and in order to feel well again you need to detox and cleanse -- which in practice involves a lot of induced defecation. And this is supposed to be good for feelings of fatigue, muscle soreness, anxiety, stomach upset, and difficulty sleeping.

See where I'm going with this?

The "toxins" that make you feel terrible all the time are caffeine. Not heavy metals, or refined sugar, or vaccines, or yeast. It's just fucking caffeine.

Well, caffeine and chronic overwork/sleep deprivation, which is not entirely a direct result of the caffeine but is certainly enabled/exacerbated by it. Everyone is working too much and taking stimulants to get through the day and in fact experiencing mild overdose symptoms on a fairly regular basis (irritable? jittery? that's caffeine toxicity) and it's no wonder we all feel like shit.

And then! When you come home from your day of pushing your mind and body too hard! It is ALSO normalized to take downers to level out! Alcohol is also a toxin, and it takes a lot less of it to start doing systemic damage than most people realize. When you wake up in the morning feeling foggy and achy, it may not be enough to register as a proper hangover, but it's almost certainly the combined effect of alcohol and caffeine withdrawal. Both mild! Both nearly harmless and easily recovered from! If you're not doing it on a regular basis and if you're getting enough rest, which you're not, as we previously established.

It's the chronicity that's the issue, the neverending grind of it all. You can't recover from chronic sleep deprivation or overwork with an extra few hours of rest on the weekends. You can't recover from long-term chemical dependence with a 24-hour tolerance break. If you're a wage earner in late-stage capitalism your options for reversing the damage are pretty limited and they all look like deprivation: prioritizing an unbroken 8-9 hours of sleep per night may well mean giving up most if not all of your social life and leisure activities. Fuck that.

And to be clear, I don't consider choosing to stay out late with a vodka Red Bull to be a personal failure of any kind, just like I don't think poor people should never buy themselves anything nice. If work keeps trying to take more and more of your time, you gotta carve out time for yourself somewhere. But... y'all know me. I want people to know the risks.

I think a lot of people don't realize that their bodies are under this much strain. They don't know that we are better suited for a 4-6 hour work day, that 6-7 hours of sleep is genuinely not enough for most people, that as little as 2 cups of coffee might be enough to put them over the recommended maximum caffeine intake. They don't know that they're drinking enough alcohol to cause health problems.

If you know and you decide to do it anyway that's fine, it's your right. I do inadvisable shit all the time. But people don't know, they're not being told, because they can't be allowed to question the material conditions they're being forced to endure -- and then they're being sold a bunch of useless or even harmful bullshit to "cure" the inevitable consequences of those conditions.

[tragicallyuncreative]

Atsila Cade

Johnny didn’t look enthusiastic. He wasn’t a big fan of Curly, especially since he gave him weed under the guise it was a cigarette and had a bad reaction. He proceeded to spend four hours locked in the bathroom, in tears because he was hearing voices and terrified he was getting sick like his mom.

~

I have no clue what story this will appear in, if any. But I will continue to reference my headcanon that Atsila Cade is schizophrenic (obviously, we know little about her in the book other than the fact that she's an abusive alcoholic). I don't want to make her a truly sympathetic character, as there's no excuse for child abuse. However, I see her as much more than a one-dimensional character who's simply evil and abusive for the hell of it.

Atsila was born in the Cherokee Nation Reservation near Ottawa, Oklahoma and resided there with her parents until her early 20s, when she met Anthony Cade. She began showing symptoms of schizophrenia around age 16, which is unusually early but not unheard of. Initially, there was no cause for alarm. It was small changes; withdrawing from others, not sleeping, having difficulty focusing on academics. Her auditory hallucinations were also not a red flag, in face, it was considered a good thing. Many cultures and religions practice shamanism, a practice that involves interacting with the spirit world. This is certainly a valid thing and does not mean one is mentally ill, rather, they are hearing voices because they are receiving communications from ancestors, spirits, elementals, etc. However, Atsila's experience was different. Her hallucinations were intense and harmful, and she developed classic symptoms of paranoia and delusions of grandeur.

By the time she met Anthony Cade, she was extremely vulnerable: a minority woman with a mental illness and desire to escape her circumstances. He was an alcoholic with a bad temper and desire to control others- and she was an easy target.

She was diagnosed with schizophrenia following an involuntary hospitalization and prescribed medication. Like many individuals with this diagnosis, she struggled with medication compliance (stopping because they feel "better", fear that pills are actually poison, etc) as well as an alcohol addiction as it masked her symptoms and quieted the voices. Alcohol did a good job at suppressing her delusions, unfortunately, under its influence she was angry and abusive, no better than her husband.

Her longest stretch of sobriety and medication adherence was nearly a year, when Johnny was six. Her arrest and subsequent court-ordered therapy and treatment regimen did wonders. She became the type of mother little Johnny had hoped for- loving and dedicated to making a better life for her son. She was nowhere near perfect, but it felt like enough for him. She took him to the reservation to meet his grandparents, and he felt connected to his culture for the first time. She made meals. She helped with homework. It didn't last.

Johnny spent his teen years (and later in our happy alternative endings) terrified that he would become afflicted with the same illness that stole his real mother, the person deep down, away. He wouldn't touch drugs or alcohol, afraid it may trigger the process. He obsessively had Ponyboy find books on schizophrenia and read them to him, hoping to find something, anything, that could decrease his chances of developing it. And he clung to the memories of his mother in those good days, going back again and again to the home he hated, to shouting and abuse and fear, hoping for glimpses of her again. And sometimes, he was rewarded.

[the-blossica-fan]

Greetings!

Yeah i remember that Sonetto and Schneider swap art, probably could find it later.

Yk what would be a funnier combo? Lilya and Vertin swapping, or really anyone swapping with Lilya.

Literally the both of them suffering withdrawal; Vertin suffering in Lilya's body with alcohol withdrawals because ofc shes not drinking, and Lilya in Vertin's suffering picrasma withdrawal because she HATES the stuff probably.

Horropedia and Blonney swapping? Idk anything but the pure chaos in it happening, Jessica would IMMEDIATELY know they have swapped but idk the rest? Up to you!

You always give me the best stuff to put my brain to work, I love this!!

Allow me to use my beloved overworked brain for this.

Lilya in Vertin's body would not be able to hold onto the primal need to eat Picrasma Candy. Her mouth feels empty and waters taste like some sugary substance (I believe this happens when you eat too much sugar), her (Vertin's) body NEEDS Picrasma, but oh Lord Lilya is NOT eating that shit.

Drinking Vodka has a wrong reaction as well, she ends up on the floor 5 seconds before throwing up. She can't drink, nor does she want to eat Picrasma, she's in mental pain.

Meanwhile, Vertin can't eat Picrasma candy because of not drinking alcoholic beverages. Lilya's body is used to a certain quantity of alcohol, so even if she drinks something light, her (Lilya's) body NEEDS vodka, and Vertin is not Lilya and it tastes like shit so she's having terrible withdrawal symptoms.

She can't even nap it out nor concentrate on her work, her body demands alcohol and the nausea is way too much. She had to drink way too much low alcohol drink in order to get it to hold on for a while. She was drunk.

Horropedia and Blonney, my Lord...

Blonney HATES it. She feels so sweaty and she can't see shit every time she takes off his glasses. She definitely took off that sweater and wore something more comfortable on his skin, she's also complaining so much about his skin. He sleeps well, that's for sure, but my Lord is he greasy. He eats junk and she eats healthy.

Horropedia Is definitely more curious on this change from an investigative perspective. Blonney's chest is big so... He's experiencing the pain of women with big breasts and he doesn't like it

"Blondie, how can you live with this?! This is, really painful. I can't lie on my stomach!"

"Could you PLEASE stop mentioning this?"

They have so many troubles regarding each other's bodies but that's because of the gender of each person, and Horropedia's lack of skin care which Blonney will fix. Horropedia doesn't hate the body but he definitely wasn't made for it.

And Blonney is such a lesbian she can't hold onto this body any longer.

Jessica definitely has a dilemma. She loves Blonney and the softness of her body... Blonney's body is Horropedia. What is she going to do?! She throws a couple punches at Horropedia though

"Oh, finally, you don't smell like sweat and dust!"

"Hey! How dare you? I don't smell like that!"

"You're right, it's worse."

She definitely hangs out with Blonney more but, in her mind, she's probably like "I miss Blonney's soft body 😞", but she's not hugging Horropedia.

Mmmm, as for a couple extra body swaps... Matilda and J.

Matilda would be so proud in J's body, definitely happier to be taller and presuming her (his) muscles. She also loves his style so she's not changing anything.

J is quite in pain. He is now small and in the body of a silly girl, he has fun being small and the fact Matilda is pretty strong even with her body type fascinates him. He's working out in her body to have some muscles since Matilda had a lot of work and doesn't exercise outside of work.

"Hah, I can finally understand why you never appear in photos. You're so small you can't even see the camera"

"Consider your next words carefully! The great Matilda is in care of YOUR body and isn't afraid to damage it!"

And maybe Isolde and Marcus! You would think it's Isolde and Kakania, oh Lord no I'm not THAT cruel 😞

Marcus can't breathe in Isolde's body, she still wears corsets, and they're very, very tight. Marcus is actually pretty worried for her safety but it seems she's used it, meanwhile Marcus is suffering. Yeah Isolde's lungs are used to it, but Marcus' brain is not and Lord does it hurt to breathe. She did take Hoffman's coat from Isolde and ended up wearing it over Isolde's nightgown as the only clothing that's comfortable for her.

Isolde didn't find any issue with Marcus' body, not like she has any complaints to make. Without the coat, it just feels so comfortable and calming. She feels like she could be peaceful forever. She can't sing and can't hear the ghost's voices so she's quite peaceful. Drinking tea by the window, equally as gloomy as ever but you can feel more comfortable.

Oh, by the way, Marcus is having a fistfight with Heinrich's ghost while she's in Isolde's body.

[slashthrashandcrash]

You should spill your thoughts more on the vibes of slasher x final girl; it’s giving me something to chew on for my own Danny/OC fic haha

I’m rabid about the idea that they just upturn everything—a disgusting happy little accident that turns what they thought was important to them upside down and now it’s trying to decide if it’s wed, bed or behead?

*SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE* OKAY SO HEAR ME OUT--

I've said it before in an absolute word vomit here but I'll say it again: I love a Slasher that is so utterly out of their depth when it comes to experiencing genuine human connection that they're forced to rely on their homicidal instincts/habits for comfort.

Obsession at first sight is always a classic, but something that's also peak is a Slasher falling head over heels without even realizing it. They've begun stalking their Final Girl, as they do with all their victims, learning her routines, who could be potential victims by proxy, tease her with close encounters -- the whole shebang. They never realize that they've almost started watching her...without an ulterior motive? There's no reason they need to know what her favorite flowers are or how she likes her coffee or what she wears to bed, but they do anyways.

And then that moment when they finally, finally have her cornered and in their grasp, the end of a well drawn out hunt, they find that they suddenly can't go through with it. It's a very inopportune realization to have. All the work they've put in stalking and harassing her, picking off the people closest to her one by one, it comes to a screeching halt in their mind. She's trembling. She's frightened. She's bloodied and teary eyed and begging so sweetly when she's not fighting for her life. Of course, it's every Slasher's favorite sight to behold, the prize to be won! Yet there's something different about it this time...not regret, per se, not mercy.

They want her like this all the time. They don't want this moment to end with a blade to her throat like every other victim before her. And just as much as they love to see her petrified under them, they also want to see more of the times she's smiled and laughed and bat her pretty little lashes (all candid moments they witnessed from afar, mind you). They want her, just her. But they want her alive.

It's this moment of confusion and inner turmoil that allows the poor Final Girl to slip out of their grip and escape to the sequel, and the Slasher spends an embarrassing long time processing this new development. They've never experienced such a whiplash before. It felt like bloodlust, but not quite. They still felt the same type excitement when she shivered and pleaded for her life, watching her struggling and feeling her heartbeat again them. Killing her though? Not an option. In that moment, she became the most addictive feeling and they'll be damned if they let her get away again. She's better than any drug. She's all the fun and none of the mess, although does she still look damn good in the resulting mess regardless.

There is a hierarchy of needs and she is at the very top. They need to touch her, feel her squirm, hear those lovely little whimpers, taste her fear -- at the same time, they want to know what it feels like to have her lean against them, flash them that soft smile she gives everyone else who don't deserve it, kiss their cheek and promise she'll never ever leave them. They legit feel like they're on a high when she's around them and withdrawal symptoms are a real bitch. If they can just find a way to keep her by their side, they'd be set for life between the rush of a killing spree and the addictive effects of her fear/love...

[flamingo-writes]

Hello Flamingo!!! how are you? I hope ok.

This is an idea that came to my head a few weeks ago, if you'd like to write it, it's up to you! I hope you like it💕

Reader who was generating a great addiction to the medications that were prescribed for his anxiety and depression, adding other types of addictions such as cigarettes or alcohol, meets Hobie/Spider-Punk and helps they with this problem, empathizing with their situation, Hobie would visit Reader from time to time to ask how things are going or develop some kind of relationship with they.

I think it's an essence of Hobie that you don't often see and I think it's something he would do quite often.

I am finally replying to this! Jesus, I am so SORRY for the delay!

I absolutely loved this request! And I learned so much about addictions during my research. And got google constantly concerned offering me hotlines every google search.

Flirting With An Addiction — Hobie x GN!Reader

Title based of the song Particles by Nothing But Thieves. Love this band, love this song, helped me set the mood for the angsty parts. Especially any live or acoustic version 😭

A/N: i have to clear some stuff first, because some of you are too quick to feel victimised. I do not specify colour nor gender of the reader. I do mention the reader looks pale at some point. Now, because it happened to me once, that someone tried to get sassy with me because dark skin can’t get pale, yes, yes it can. If you have a heartbeat you can get pale, period. Pale is not only a synonym for white, paleness is a medical term used to describe the loss of normal colour in skin or membranes. Pale is a way to describe someone who presents paleness. If you have dark skin, you can still get pale when you’re sick.

Warnings: drug consumption, needles, depictions of several withdrawals symptoms like stomach issues (emetophobia), depression, anxiety,

Word count: 2.7K

Hearing from your parents first hand that you had gone missing was the worst that could have happened to Hobie Brown. You were his favourite person, his best friend, his go to confidant, his partner in crime. And hearing you had gone missing felt like the ground on his feet started crumpling down. His lungs ran out of breath as he mouthed:

"What?”

And your mother explained, drowning in her own tears. And even as she did, he couldn’t understand what was coming out of her mouth, as a horrendous buzz was drilling his brain. He simply heard: "drugs" "weed" "ecstasy" "used needle" "gone". His stomach turned, making him feel nauseous as he couldn’t find anything to say to your parents other than:

"I’m so sorry" he said. "I could’ve helped them" he said. "I wasn’t there for them," he said. And with that, he was gone. Somewhere along the line, he put his mask back on and took off.

Pav and Gwen were there with him when it happened. What started as an innocent hangout at his place, turned into a search party. When Hobie thought of inviting you over as well and realising you weren’t picking up the phone in your house, he decided to look for you. You weren’t at your place, you weren’t at his, your coworkers said you hadn’t showed up for work in three days, and that’s when he went to your mother.

"They’ve been gone for the last five days…" were the last things he heard before that painful buzz started echoing in his head.

He took off. And he’d never swung so fast in his entire life. Pav and Gwen didn’t even have the chance to exchange glances when both of them were running after him. "Running". Between not being familiarised with Old York’s building distribution, nor being familiarised with the streets, they had absolutely no clue where Hobie was heading. They simply guessed Hobie knew where you were.

Boy, we’re they wrong.

Hobie had not the faintest clue where you were. He had a notion of where you could be. But with every fibre in his body he wished he was wrong. "Used needle" was perhaps his best clue, and possibly the one that terrified him the most.

He had a pretty decent notion of where the most famous crack houses were. He’d grown in the streets, of course he knew. More than once he’d been in them, not to make business, but because he was looking for something or someone, or doing Spider-Man duties. And truth was, the very last person he thought he’d ever go looking into a crack house was you.

As he arrived to the first one and kicked the door open, the few junkies there flinched, expecting to see a copper. But instead they saw Spider-Man. He looked around. Pushers, burnouts, and crunched junkies passed out on the floor. Some, Hobie wasn’t even sure they were still alive. He walked around looking for you.

Pav and Gwen caught up with him, and soon realised what was going on. Hobie did not know where you were, he was looking for you. Gwen didn’t have much experience with the darker side of her New York, she was creeped out. Pav, on the other hand, was the youngest of the gang. And he’d been Spider-Man for so little, he hadn’t had the misfortune to end up in the lower parts of Mumbattan. Pav was terrified.

"Hobie?” Gwen asked as he quickly walked out of the flat.

"Not ‘ere" He mumbled, more to himself and took off again.

It went on like that for the next few hours. Crack house after crack house. Desperately looking for you, whether you were baked out of your mind, or simply OD. But the fact that with every place he went to, his chances of finding you grew narrower and narrower, he didn’t know what he preferred. To find you dead on the floor of one of those nasty places, or not finding you at all. With each location, Hobie’s anxiety grew, his movements became clumsier, rougher, even more aggressive.

"Hobie, wait—" Pav yelled after the fifth crack house.

But Hobie didn’t stop. He listened, but his mind was rushing with adrenaline, hyper focusing on his task at hand: finding you.

The guilt accumulated in his chest, weighting more and more with every passing minute. Why was he even feeling guilty for? It’s not like he’d given you the drugs, and forced a needle up your arm. But he knew you had problems with loneliness, he knew about your consuming anxiety and your seasonal depression. He knew you had a strange relationship with your medication. He knew you were picking up a liking for recreational drugs. Harmless stuff like weed and shrooms. Acid at most. He should’ve imagined you’d eventually try to stray into the drugs you swore never to mess with. Ice, dust, junk…He should’ve guessed something like this was going to happen. But he was busy. He was busy being Spider-Man, he was busy jumping between universes. He was busy helping others, but not helping you. Not when he knew you had it rough. That guilt consumed him. He was busy helping everyone else, but you. He was busy helping people from another universe, but not that one person who he considered his family, his world. And boy, that guilt was drowning him.

Was it good luck or bad luck when he found you? He couldn’t tell. He felt his blood turn cold the moment he saw you.

Despite the pale look on your face, and the dark circles under your eyes, but you looked so peaceful. Lying on a dirty mattress, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, relaxed face. You looked so beautiful in the most disturbing way. Thinner than what Hobie remembered. And so terrifyingly still. Were you alive and lost in some euphoric dream? Or were you dead? It was hard to tell. You didn’t seem to be breathing.

Hobie rushed to your side, and he quickly checked your pulse. He called your name, almost in a desperate cry as his eyes quickly teared up behind his mask with the most suffocating feeling of powerlessness and incompetence that he’d ever felt washed over him. You groaned in response, unable to form coherent words and simply stuck to noises, your mind was far too dissolved, drowned in heroine, trapping you in a haze.

He checked your pulse. He checked your breathing. Your eyes of course were almost completely black due to the high. And you had a couple of marks on your arms from needles. Hobie didn’t even dare to count them, the less he knew about your newfound addiction the better for him, or so he thought. He looked around and next to the mattress there were various classic heroine use paraphernalia, making Hobie’s throat close.

"No, no, no, no baby…" Hobie whispered as he stared at you as you lied there, relaxed and heavy in his arms. He pulled his mask off to better look at you. For you to look at him if you were there by any chance. "Not heroine, why heroine…" He whispered as he pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. "You knew heroine wasn’t to be messed with, one time is fine, two makes you an addict, sweet’eart…" He purred with his lips pressed against your skin.

"Hobie…" Gwen said gently touching his shoulder.

"We have to go," Hobie said at once as he carried you.

Once in his boathouse, Hobie gently set you down on his bed as he sat on the edge and stared at you attentively. His eyes looking miserable, as he caressed your cheek delicately.

"Hobie?” Pav said, slowly walking inside his room. "We’re very sorry…"

"I am too…" He murmured in response.

"Can we help?” Gwen asked softly.

Hobie was ready to tell them to leave him alone for a while, when he actually thought of something.

"Yes…"

He then gave them a short shopping list with food and over the counter painkillers and some medication for stomach issues. It seemed very random to them, but in that moment Hobie thought he’d keep you in his boat and help you through your detox. At least as long as he could. A week or two, to start, and from then, he’d improvise along the way.

His impulsive and spontaneous thought of keeping you there over the period of detox didn’t really prepare him for the absolute torture it turned out to be.

To him, it was terribly, awfully, agonisingly painful. Watching you suffer like that. The way you whined and curled up on his bed, crying in silence from the pain, dealing with the tummy issues. The nausea, the not being able to leave the bathroom, looking weak, constantly upset, the shivering, and awful ups and downs in your anxiety and your mood.

Everything hurt, your head, your limbs, every muscle in your body, your stomach, even organs you couldn’t exactly pin point where they were, now you could because of the sharp pain. Even the smell of food made you excruciatingly nauseous, and puke green bile across the room, even feeling nausea was painful. It was hell. You were dying, you were sure your entire body was shutting down and you were going to die in this aching hell. Too anxious to sleep, to weak to move, too nauseous to do as much as roll over on the bed, too shaky to even be able to hold things in your hands. Sometimes you didn’t even feel your limbs at all for hours.

He could only imagine how it was like for you. How it was going inside your head. But sitting and watching was awful for him. He wanted to help, and from an objective point of view he knew he was helping, but he didn’t want you to hurt. He wished time and time again that he was able to take that pain away from you. The first three days were the peak of your suffering. And there was nothing Hobie could do other than keep an eye on you and get you what you needed.

When the physical symptoms started to subside, when you were able to keep food in your stomach, and when you stopped complaining about everything hurting, the psychological symptoms began. The consuming guilt and anxiety, the fear of showing up at work or at your parents’ house, the fear of the disappointment. Pitying yourself, pulling yourself down into that depressive hole you’d been digging.

Crying every night before going to bed became a recurrent event. You crying your heart out as Hobie held you tightly in his arms, comforted you until you’d fall asleep. You cried several times a day, but the one before bed was always the worst.

And soon, it became a recurrent event. Hobie keeping you all in one piece, as you cried and your heart broke all over again. His long yet strong and warm arms managed to hold you together every single night. Soon, sleeping together became a habit. And more than a habit, soon, Hobie’s company became a better painkiller than the pills you took. His scent managed to soothe the nausea which was thankfully decreasing with every day. His warmth seemed to help you control the shivers and the goosebumps. His voice quieted down the mean anxious thoughts in your brain. His company drifted you to sleep for several hours without waking up with tachycardia and short breath.

Falling asleep in his arms became just the right medication, although the long term effects were still there. But they were much bearable. The mornings were the best time of the day. First thing in the morning, drowned in the aftermath of that sleepy haze, you’d always find yourself staring at Hobie.

He didn't like mornings, he wasn’t a morning person. But something about seeing him sleep, his face relaxed, thick lips slightly parted, and the dim sunlight hitting his face, making him look absolutely gorgeous. Had he always been this attractive? Easy, yes; he had always been an attractive lad. But had you always felt that feeling in your heart? That was new. And you were sure it was not the usual tachycardia you’d get from the drugs, but something Hobie did unconsciously.

"You know it’s real creepy that you stare at people while they sleep…” He whispered softly as he woke up slowly, opening his eyes slowly and seeing you staring at him with a subtle and sweet smile on your lips.

"Shut up" You chuckled.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was low and raspy, still creeping with sleep.

"Better…although that might change in a couple of hours" You sighed, already getting mentally ready for the awful up and downs in your mood and anxiety.

"I’m sorry"

"That my life now, I guess"

"It’ll get better…it’s been getting better hasn’t it?" He immediately added as he looked at you, slightly more awake, taking in the details of your face, as you were snuggled next to him, most of your body touching his, sharing the same comforting heat.

"Yeah I think so" You purred.

"Hey, I’ve got you, okay? Not letting you fall again into that dark place"He whispered, leaning forward, bumping his forehead against yours, as one of his hands caressed you cheek, making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you" You closed you eyes, as you savoured this sweet intimate moment with Hobie.

"Don’t mention it, luv"

"But I mean it…" You whispered. "You’ve been basically the entire time here…keeping an eye on me…ignoring your Spider-Man duties…I’ve heard you argue with that Miguel guy over your watch…"

"He can fuck off," He said with a cheerful whisper and a chuckle "he’s got another hundreds of spider-people at his service, he doesn’t miss me, he just likes to be patronising…"

"I still appreciate it very much…" Your eyes opened slowly with your statement as you stared into his eyes, and he seemed to immediately get lost in yours.

"No problem…I’d do anything for you…"

You both stared into each other’s eyes. And something about his eyes was slightly different. The eyes you grew up looking at, those eyes you knew how to read perfectly, almost being able to read his thoughts, now had something slightly different about them. Something that made your heart race and your cheeks grow hot. Something Hobie saw reflected in your own.

And you both read each other’s minds. And you both leaned forward without having to be told. Closing your eyes, you felt your breath leave your lungs when you felt his warm lips against yours.

Hobie wasn’t by any means a slow tender guy, he was the passionate dude who knew how to use his tongue. Not this time. This time he felt the world stop, time stop, and all there was, was you. And he wanted to savour it. He kissed you slower than he was used to. The kiss was gentler than what he was used to. He was used to kissing strangers, perhaps someone he shared chemistry with, but never really someone he cared for as much as you. This felt far more special, far more unique. This felt like something he could get addicted to, and something he wanted to relive often.

As he broke the kiss slowly, catching his breath, he opened his eyes and stared at you as you remained with your eyes closed, still processing what you’d felt. He smiled and bumped his forehead against yours.

"I promise you, you’ll be alright, okay? I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound…even if it kills me" He reassured you.

"Please don’t say that," You murmured.

"What?" He chuckled.

"Anything that’s in some way related to you dying," Hobie chuckled, thinking your concerns were very cute, although very understandable as well.

"Fine…" He replied "I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound even if…it’s a near death experience…better?"

“No, not really…" You chuckled, "but I appreciate the effort

"Hey, you mean so much to me, you know that?"

"You mean mean so much to me too…"

[bookwormcosplays]

SSRI Withdrawal Journey

I wasn't going to do this because I'm a very private person and I don't like talking about my mental health on social media, but I decided this is very important for me to remember how this felt and to give people a frame of reference.

I've been on lexapro for a year which I always knew it was going to be temporary because I was having a lot of mental breakdowns and I just needed to get through school. I told the psychiatrist I just wanted to get through school and she still prescribed me this. I was aware of the withdrawal, but I was under the illusion that it should be fine if I tapered.

Why not continue take it? It didn't really help me out a lot. It had more cons than pros. All it did was make me less angry and eat more which is something I'm capable outside of medication. The breakdowns though were affecting my school life that a round of therapy wouldn't help and this helped to minimize it, but now I graduated.

Fast forward to current day. I told my primary doctor I wanted to come off of lexapro, couldn't talk to my previous psychiatrist for other reasons, and my DOCTOR said "oh lexapro is easy just split your pills in half take it for a week then stop." I was on 20mg. I said I'm really concerned about withdrawal could I get 5mg pills. She said "okay" and gave me only a week of 5mg. Mind you I was already running out of my original pills. So I had no choice, but to follow her advice.  

1st Week (10mg): Insomnia, night terrors, night sweats, nightmares, and mania. I was very manic. I kept acting out of character, talking a lot, and pulling out old projects to work on. I was exercising. Doing a bunch of things even though I was running on very little sleep (2 hour naps basically). I also had some dizziness, but it wasn't too bad. I thought I could definitely handle withdrawal because I felt on top of the world.

2nd Week (5mg): Continued insomnia, night terrors, night sweats, and nightmares. New symptoms-- I crashed hard after the manic episode. Headaches (24/7 they will not go away with no type of medicine), joint pain, nausea, vomiting, no appetite. Can't drink water. Makes me sick. Dizzy spells get more intense. Static in vision. Can't walk straight. Bumping into walls. Falling more often. Can't look at phone or laptop without unbearable head pain or nausea. Migraines. Flu like symptoms (don't have flu, haven't been outside the house in a week). Sore throat, congested, fever. Increased sweating and what feels like hot flashes.

3rd Week (nothing): Continued insomnia, night terrors, night sweats, and nightmares. Headaches, joint pain, nausea, vomiting, no appetite. Dizzy spells, static in vision, still can't walk straight. Still bumping into walls and falling more often. Can't look at phone or laptop without unbearable head pain or nausea. Migraines. Flu like symptoms, sore throat, congested, and fever. Increased sweating and hot flahes. New symptoms-- Fatigue, try to sleep but nightmares keep waking me up. Yet I also don't want to sleep because the nightmares are so bad. Exhausted. In bed all day. No brain zaps yet? Noises make my head hurt. No matter how small. Cabinets closing, music playing, etc.

I will update the third week as we finish it up then make a new post as this goes on.

I don't know how people deal with withdrawal while working. If you want to take an ssri or lexapro specifically, I suggest you intend to stick with it. If you're just trying it out, figure it out within the first month. If you want to taper, do it with someone who understands the consequences of withdrawal. I seriously don't understand how this withdrawal is not different from opiods or any other drug. If I wasn't in a situation where I can't take it anymore, I would get back on it to stop this. Needless to say, I do not recommend lexapro for short term use or honestly at all (but also I'm in pain rn and very irritated).

[oxygenbefore1775]

AoT characters as types of poisons

warriors edition!

cw: poisons and all the ways they could (and would) kill; also mention of abortion in zeke's hcs

a/n: as a pharmacy student i also have to study toxicology for some reason so what better way to apply my knowedge than to use it for some hcs; the thing on the divider is citric acid - it's not poisonous, it just looks cool

don't fucking get any ideas from this, it's all harmless fun, pls be reasonable

Annie

strychnine

you're nothing but a pesky vermin to it that needs to be mercilessly annihilated

it's actually been used as a performance-enhancing drug - you know, before people realized how fucking deadly it is

it's very versatile in the way it can enter your system, be it through inhaling it, consuming it or entering you via your bloodstream, even through the fucking eyes, the possibilities are endless

the only thing that's the same is your inevitable death

it's a neurotoxin class, meaning it's destroys the nervous system to the point that your brain can't send signals to the rest of your body which leads to paralysis

complete paralysis of the body, including the breathing muscles

i.e. you slowly die of suffocation all the while your airways are completely free and not blocked by anything and you stay perfectly conscious and aware of the each second you spend uncontrollably twitching

30 mins hardly pass between the first time strychnine enters your system and your death but it makes sure that each passing minute is agony for you

what's worse, there's no antidote against it - you are litteraly doomed the moment you come in contace with it

Bertholdt

acetaminophen aka paracetamol (or tylenol if you live in the us)

a wolf in sheep's clothing

harmless fella at the first sight and is actually nice for relieving different kinds of pain

but it has a dark side

it takes a LOT to get an overdose dangerous enough to kill you

and even then it wouldn't be followed by any symptoms for a whole week - it'd be just sitting there, gathering its strength for one powerful obliterating attack on your system

but when it kicks in, you're in for a lethal treat

your liver is the first to go down and sets off a whole chain of events with your kidneys and pancreas following suit and failing as well

the next thing to happen is that your blood gets too acidic for your body to handle and all the tissue near your blood stream (which is all the tissue in the organism) gets constantly irritated by the acids

the death is long-awaited, devastating and quite painful but it doesn't last that long - once the symptoms kick in, you'll be dead in the couple of hours

Colt

caffeine

a sunshine drug loved by everyone (but mostly young people)

it's everything a tired person could wish for - it energizes, it relieves pain, it gives you strength and motivation to live another day

don't mix it with alcohol though, it's a very bad idea

it basically creates the illusion that alcohol doesn't affect you which causes you to drink even more and you will be even more drunk than usual and a total wreck overall (and the hangover part won't be that nice)

it can't kill you that easily, you'll literally have to consume 70 cups of coffee in one sitting to even be close to death

the most fun symptom of it is eye flashes - not deadly, but definitely annoying

Pieck

nicotine

because zeke likes her :3

highly addictive and causes severe distress during withdrawal

only good for killing insects, pretty useless against people

it's very universal in its entry into the body - nasal, oral, dermal - and each means of consumption has its own perks

will take a lot to even reach an overdose, let alone the one that may be lethal

the worst immediate thing it can cause for you is headache and diziness

sure, it is harmful but you won't see the effects of it until couple of years in the future

but that's how it gets you - by being nice and pleasurable to consume

but - it works very well in combination with other poisons, especially if nicotine has been in the system for quite a long time

any poisons - nicotine prepares the turf for them and increases their effects tenfold

overall, it can be deadly but only with some other poison at its side

Porco

phosgen

it smells very nice (like fresh cut grass or hay)

a perfect warfare weapon

it's down to the earth so there's almost no chance you can escape it - it's moving fast and out there to kill you

its only way to enter the body is through your respiratory system

insidious little fucker as it's colorless and by the time you would notice it, it would be all to late

very-very reactive

basically burns the inside lining of the lungs and causes swelling of the airways at which point you die of suffocation since your body is physically unable to take a breath

it's a bloody death though as the damaged lungs are exposed to capillaris connected to them and as the result your lungs fill with blood that you helplessly try to expell ou of you with irregular coughs

Reiner

quicksilver

once useful and irreplacable, it slowly loses its advantage to the more modern findings of the civilization (just like rei and his armor)

absolutely harmless if consmed orally - you can litteraly eat a spoonful of it and it can do barely nothing to you

but once the heat is on, that's when it gets dangerous cuz it evaporates and that what kills you - quicksilver vapors

even in smal concentrations it can be deadly

one of the most prominent symptoms of quicksilver poisoning are the rosy color of the skin as if you were blushing and isomina

when the exposure is prolonged, it can cause depression among other things

the other thing is - once it enters your organism it will not exit it, there's no way to remove it, it will stay with you forever

it's not that it can kill you but the more severe the overdose is, the more you would be yearning for the sweet release of death

Zeke

digoxin (like i stated before in the convo with st)

also works a medication, a wonder-drug that's very versatile and can help with almost any heart disease

it's also used in abortions (how fitting)

it has a side-effect of enlarging breasts, be it female or male (lol)

a deceiving little fucker - you have to be very careful in order not to overdose and the intoxication can be chronic and proceed over the months

very intricate, it affects the body on a less than cellular level and fucks with the mechanism as sophisticated as electro-cardial processes of your heart

its main mechanism is inhibition, i.e. it litteraly doesn't let your body function at its normal rate, it controls you from now on

it strikes your heart first of all and you're litteraly left at the mercy of this traitorous drug as it controls your pulse

after a long torture where this drug constantly either accelerates or slows down your pulse

heart is all the flutter because of it, to sum up

the death is less-likely to happen but everything before that would be a fucking torture and you'll be surely living in misery

but one day it will stop your heart

feel free to request if you wanna see other categories of characters like 104th or the veterans - im open to ideas; ik it's pretty grim but it makes my monkey brain happy

[buriedyou]

𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐎́𝐍.

previously found at: silvresaint.

Gabriel is from the Empire of the Vampire books, but fuck J.ay K.ristoff. Consider this portrayal inspired by multiple sources of vampire media. The primary world Gabriel exists within assumes the existence of many supernatural elements. Gabe is not generally kind or likeable, nor is he even distinctly approachable; please keep this in mind if interacting and plotting, which is highly encouraged because of his nature. PLEASE NOTE: Gabriel is an addict. As a half-vampire, he is always hungry for blood; however, as a Silversaint, he does not partake in this thirst the traditional way, relying heavily on a powdered blood-compound stimulant called sanguine. Not only does it quell his hunger, it also enhances his vampire abilities and strength. If he can get his hands on it, he will smoke it. I will do my best to treat the topic of addiction with respect and do my due diligence in researching the topic, but if ever I slip up, please do not hesitate to reach out to me about it. I do not ever want to treat this topic without care and I am wholly open to being called in about any insensitivity on my part.

FULL NAME: Gabriel de León EPITHET(S): Silversaint, The Black Lion GENDER: Cis-male SPECIES: Vampire ORIGIN: Blood Esani HEIGHT: 6'4” AGE: 36 years old

HAIR: Long, several inches past his shoulders. Glossy black and straight. EYES: Eerily grey in color. Silver, even, in some light. SKIN TONE: Pale as the moon where it isn't covered in silver ink. BODY TYPE: Mesomorph. VOICE: Low and rough from years of sanguine smoke inhalation. Almost always dry in its humor, given his propensity for sarcasm and disdain. WEAPON: His sword, Ashdrinker. NOTABLE FEATURE(S): His dozens upon dozens of tattoos which cover him from neck to ankle.

VULNERABILITIES: As a half-vampire, he is sensitive to the sun, though it is not lethal. Silver-made weapons do him more harm than any normal ones. Long exposure to hunger, as well as withdrawal symptoms, are detrimental to his health, both mentally and physically. ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

CURRENTLY.

the last silversaint. SETTING FLEXIBLE. tbd.

BIOGRAPHY

the world pretends it doesn't know what lies in wait around every dark corner. humans are stupid like that. but no amount of ignorance can keep away the dark and all the things hiding within it. daysdeath happens that way; one moment, everything is as it always was. in the next, there's only the blood. there's only the fear.

daysdeath happens to us all. it's an inevitability, an unpleasant one that shatters any hopes and dreams except the only one that matters: survival. because it's either that or you become one of them. and if you become one of them, it's only a matter of time before you have to turn someone else. and maybe that someone else is your mother or your husband or your friend. hunger doesn't care who they are to you. hunger only cares what they are to you. a fresh meal, a veritable feast, the only thing that matters in the end. if you're lucky, you're too far gone to understand what you're doing. but what does death care for luck?

gabriel was still a boy when daysdeath came for him. when you live in a world where those around you had their daysdeath already, you don't understand their fear. fear, to gabriel, was in the switch to his back when papa is angrier than he usually is. fear, to gabriel, was papa with a bottle of liquor and only his head the target of that breakable glass. fear, to gabriel, was split skin and bleeding lips and doing something wrong. until one day it's impossible that papa was ever the only thing worth fearing.

he watches his sister die on his daysdeath. her cries had dragged him from work even at the risk of papa's fury. the thing attacking her should have reminded him of fear, but all he knew was that same rage that stirred the same in him then as it always had in his papa. it is not simple strength alone that frightens that thing away; his hands are all fire when they rip its face from his sister's throat, leaching it of the black in its veins faster than he can realize what happens. it crumbles in his hands. but it's too late for little celene already dead at his feet.

little lion, his mother called him, knowing exactly what he was from the moment he was born. the hunger only woke in him when that daysdeath finally fell. there was a girl with soft lips and softer thighs, and hunger was the taste of both. it isn't until she's screaming and there's blood pooling in the bed beneath her, pooling in his mouth, that he wakes to the world gone black. her father chases him across town and the town joins him. his mother weeps and weeps and weeps. what is wrong with me? he cries amongst the throng of those who want him killed. and because mother is god, it's mother who both saves and damns him.

she'd sent for the man on the horse all those weeks ago when celene had fallen. little lion, she'd said as that man frightens the crowd enough that they relent their demand for gabriel's head. be brave for me now. it's the only goodbye he's afforded before the man on the horse takes him away. papa doesn't even look at him.

thus, gabriel begins his life in the wake of his daysdeath. he was not just a boy. he was born with that hunger, cursed with it, and was tasked now to use it. far from home, he learned how to destroy those things which destroyed his sister and he learned how to destroy himself piece by piece. trials by blood and trials by death earn him his slaying sword, ashdrinker, and the role of silversaint. soaked in the holy ink of angels and the blood of devils, gabriel was crowned the black lion and kingslayer. and when those monsters triumphed over the brotherhood, he was deemed the last silversaint and retreated into obscurity, leaving humanity to their fate.

NOTES

The Silversaint is a dying breed. Once a flourishing and holy brotherhood called The Silver Order tasked with relieving the world of those bloodlusted creatures of the night, only Gabriel remains in the wake of a cleansing which has destroyed a centuries-old faith that even he can barely hold space for within his chest.

Gabriel may or may not be known to your muse. He has many epithets and his legacy precedes him; if your muse runs in the right circles, they very well could recognize him by his name, his face, or even by the various markers of his reputation such as his tattoos or his sword. I welcome however your muse might react to his presence whether with fear, awe, or disinterest. It's always fun when he's respected; it's even more fun when he's underestimated.

Gabriel is a widower and is still very much in love with his late wife. On top of that, he has also lost his only daughter with her. Astrid and Patience were his everything. Gabriel is vulgar and he will flirt; he might even be open to a tumble in the sheets, but romantic and exclusive sexual relationships are hard to come by. Other dynamics are more than welcome, including but not limited to antagonistic, familial, convenience and work related, and platonic. Gabriel claims a preference for solitude, but he is lonely and family and loyalty are at the core of his ideals and beliefs.

ALT VERSES TBD...

[misscammiedawn]

On trauma anniversaries

Personal (and a little oversharing) post but I thought I'd speak out, even if it's just an excuse to type to myself.

Original was written October 2023. It has been sitting in our drafts ever since then. 6/22/2024 Dawn edit - Given we eventually posted the suicidality draft, I thought I'd finally share this. Especially given how much my mind has been on the end of June 2022 this week, both the good and the bad.

12/26 Dawn edit- this was originally written just after our birthday and then left in drafts. It is posted now due to the December holiday passing with no attempted intrusion from our No Contact family.

Plus I am in the middle of creating a self-harm safety plan with my therapist and wanted to see what we typed last time we were fucked up to reference for this project.

This is all from my perspective and my advice may not be useful to all. My therapist always says "take what you need and leave what you don't" when reading mental health advice. I hope there are things that will help on your end.

I've been finding a lot of joy recently in trying to write educational resources when I'm feeling a certain way and I'm feeling a certain way right now.

To those who don't know a trauma anniversary is a recognized within PTSD treatment as a sensitivity to emotional reactions brought about by the annual reminder of a particularly traumatic memory. A widely understood one is 9/11 though birthdays, Thanksgiving and annual family holidays tend to come up in the conversations too.

I suppose there is a little "chicken or the egg" back and forth on if the anniversary reminds the individual, summoning the symptoms or the symptoms of the disorder provide the reminder. My reading has said that in traumatic situations our minds become keenly aware of the circumstances and build an aversion to the situation as a survival mechanism and even the smallest hints of familiarity can activate those defenses.

Either way it is commonly experienced enough to be considered a sensitivity when performing trauma therapy. It commonly manifests via nightmares, excessive moodiness or defensiveness, avoidant behavior, social withdrawal or to put more plainly an exacerbation of existing symptoms. Danger of relapse goes up during these periods.

I know that very well. I try really hard not to let my negative instincts take over when I get this way.

October 23rd and 24th are bad days for me. One is a birthday and the other is the anniversary of the day my marriage ended and subsequently started the chain reaction that made the family I built for myself in the USA outright tell me they do not consider me family any longer, something which I am still not even remotely over. Bio-Fam can reject me, that's fine... but when the Found Family reject you? How the fuck do you recover from that? How are you capable of rationalizing that in a way that does not hold all of the blame to your own throat?

Both days represent the act of willingly burning my entire life to the ground and letting the fires consume every relationship and piece of familiarity I had built in 2 previous lives.

A little hyperbolic but that's the impact and fuck I am devastated by guilt and regret for having done it and a terror that I will do it again someday.

Prior to this year's birthday I had even made a post where I joked about how I wasn't dreading it this year but as the weekend went on the emotions started to fade in and then The Reminders kicked in via emails and IMs saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY. The sources were as innocuous as companies with my details who email coupons or work colleagues or even loved ones and people who I do not want contact from.

I've learned one thing this year and that is "you can't ignore this shit". I was arrogant and thought my progress through therapy and my recent stability would usher me through without incident. I was wrong. Luckily my ability to communicate is better than it was so I was able to warn people and ask for reassurance and care from loved ones and have them tell me that I haven't hurt them and am not alienating them and they aren't upset with me.

So, here's my handy guide (from me and to me) for how to survive this shit for future.

Get Distracted

The best moments of my past 48 hours were when I was busy doing things. Work was useful for me. My girlfriend wanted to go on a shopping trip so I forced myself to get out of the house even when I was feeling like shit and wanted to scream and cry.

The shopping trip was more annoying than it was fun but the chore got me doing something and that got me out of my own head for a little. Sometimes having something to be annoyed about, even if it's a stress, is better than being left to fester.

Communicate

I fluctuated between "I don't want to be alone" and "I want to never speak to another human ever again" about 4 times a minute during the worst of it. I was upfront with everyone in my surroundings that my affect would be off and that it was temporary and fretting over me would stress me out more. Everyone was kind and sweet to me. Also everyone at home knows NEVER CELEBRATE MY BIRTHDAY and so getting full compliance from the people in my life helped a lot.

Limit Decision Making and Stress Intake

When work started piling on I started to get a pit in my stomach that created "we're going to get fired!" thoughts that spiraled rapidly. I almost lost my composure with the screen, with myself, with my girlfriend, with the cat over the stupidest things because no matter how much I wanted to admit it, my threshold was in the toilet and I couldn't control it or will myself out of it. This isn't just anger, it's any and all emotion in excess.

Likewise I felt completely incapable of making even minor decisions during this period. Ensuring I had meals planned in advance helped when I would rather starve myself than commit to even buying food.

Commune with the grief instead

We are all quilts patched from every person who has ever loved us. It's okay to accept that there are complicated emotions. Life cannot be as black and white as we force it to be in order to survive. Part of healing is communing with the pain in a way that neither outright rejects it nor fetishizes pain to the point of which you are intentionally triggering yourself. I found a lot of comfort in watching the shows/playing the games that people from before always wanted me to. It's like doing a little bit of finished business, getting to share something with the living memory. It doesn't change the past but it lets you feel a positive connection. It gives positive momentum when the old scars itch and you want to scratch them. Growth off of the scorched Earth without interacting with the past itself and allowing it to intrude on the present.

So whether I support my dad's football team, watch something with the knowledge that she would have loved it or finally see the inspiration for the character he tailor made to be your character's villain in TTRPG, see that game they always talked about liking; I like doing this as something I can DO with the emotional build-up that depends a reaction.

Be Grateful and Show Love To Those Who Stand By You

I have spoken to every partner today just thanking them for dealing with me while I'm like this. I'll talk to my therapist tomorrow. Guilt and paranoia are ruining me at the moment. Assuring people what I lucidly think and feel helps.

Be Open to the Idea That You May Be Wrong

Just... I can tell I'm off. I know I have warned people I am off. I may actually be off. Communicate and offer love and understanding and apologies if needed. It will pass.

It's healthy to understand that while you're compromised you may not be fully yourself. Tread with caution. Do not make impulsive decisions, ask for outside opinions when you need grounding. Allow yourself to not feel guilt when you act in ways you're not proud of.

Help Others

Gotta admit doing the shopping trip with local girlfriend and being love and care for long distance one helped get me out of my own head. I find this one is actually really useful for me and I should think about how I can do it more in the future.

It's extra energy and costs spoons when you're not doing great, but it's applying effort in a positive regard.

Forgive Yourself

If I know myself I will be reading this in a year's time. That's why this post exists after all.

Just... forgive yourself. For abandoning people. For running away. For being imperfect. For choosing to be a woman. For not fighting harder. For not being who everyone needed you to be.

Don't seek to rationalize, don't seek to minimize. Do not even seek to accept what you did.

Just forgive. We are okay. We hurt people and ourselves. We handled things poorly. We broke contracts of the heart and shatters dreams of the future.

But we're alive. We have a chance to be happy again. It's okay to be the villain in other stories. It's okay to not be a perfect victim.

Forgive yourself.

Find something to look forward to

There is always "the next event". Plan for it. Get out of the present and the past. The future is there and it is waiting for you.

It'll be okay. The danger has passed. This week will pass.

It will be okay.

[nsfwmiamiart]

Incoming Text for @dreadematteo : I love you, Drea!

Hey Drea! It's me, Angelo.

The first time I saw you was in "Joey" episodes back in 2004, and then "The Sopranos." And then the cop show with Ray Liotta and JLO.

I have always admired your beauty, but you date only rockers, I mean men who are into rock music. I think his name was Michael Devin, or something.

I discovered that you were struggling two months ago but I was busy, and I stashed the news article somewhere and forgot about you. And then a week ago, I found another news article that spoke about your financial struggles and that's when I remembered to write a blog post about it and invite my celebrity readers to come to your rescue. I think Zoe Saldana and Rosario Dawson came to your rescue. They are my idiot sisters, don't ask, long story.

I just want to tell you that I love you and I care about you. I would love to be in your arms one day, you are my Italian dream girl, I don't care about your financial struggles, to me you are still the hottest woman in Italy. Just because someone struggles financially, that doesn't take away their beauty, am I right? You are sexy AF to me. I hope I will get lucky someday and become your lover or something along those lines.

Not gonna lie, you have been giving me boners since the early 2000s so don't be shocked by my sexual innuendos.

I want to introduce you to the adoptive daughter of JLO, did you know JLO adopted a daughter? Her name is @YesJulz. I encourage you to call her and become best friends.

Just FYI @YesJulz is my little sister. When you are with YesJulz, you are with my little sister.

You will be in good hands with @YesJulz, she doesn't judge you because she comes from humble beginnings as well, it means she grew up poor too.

Also, Drea, I have to let you know that you are one of the rare women that I could catch feelings for, which makes you addictive just like the pure Colombian cocaine, 99% pure addiction.

Zoe has a coochie that is 99% pure addiction.

Rosario has a coochie that is 99% pure addiction.

And now Drea has a coochie that is 99% pure addiction.

I just want to warn you that I stay away from addictive women like you, I avoid Zoe and Rosario, and now I have to avoid you too because you are highly addictive to me and if I want to survive this type of addiction, I have to stay far away from you to protect myself, that way I don't have to go through any withdrawal symptoms and avoid going to rehab.

Does my explanation make sense to you? What did I just teach you? I taught you that not every woman is addictive, not every coochie is addictive, but there are some rare women who are highly addictive to me and I just enumerated them for you, it's Drea, Zoe and Rosario. When I see these three women, I have to run away and lock the door or else I will become highly addicted to their coochie. Got it? Easy to understand explanation, am I right?

Some women don't evoke strong, lasting feelings after having sex with them. In other words, you can have sex with these women without becoming emotionally attached or addicted. However, there's another category of women who are extremely addictive. Once you have sex with them, you can't escape the emotional grip they have on you. This intense connection can be overwhelming and potentially harmful. To protect yourself from this kind of emotional turmoil, you choose to avoid these highly addictive women altogether.

Many women can have sex with me and I would never be addicted to their coochie because they are not in the addictive coochies category, get it?

But when Drea, Zoe, and Rosario come in the room, it gets very dangerous for me because three of the most addictive coochies just entered the room. That's why I have to avoid you, if you don't want to get addicted, don't even taste the coochie in the first place, am I right? Close the door, problem solved.

I care about you, Drea. You are the cool sister of Joey, I never forgot.

Your friend, and guardian angel,

Angelo.

P.S.:

Synopsis of the letter:

The letter is a personal and candid message from Angelo to Drea. In it, Angelo reminisces about the first time he saw Drea on various TV shows and expresses his long-standing admiration for her beauty. Despite Drea's financial struggles, Angelo reassures her that it does not diminish her attractiveness. He mentions his desire to be close to her and introduces her to YesJulz, JLO's adoptive daughter, suggesting that Drea connect with her. Angelo also confesses that he finds Drea highly addictive, comparing her to Colombian cocaine, and explains that he avoids highly addictive women to protect himself from emotional turmoil. He concludes by expressing his affection for Drea and recalling her role as Joey's sister in the TV show.

[cazort]

I share the deep concerns here, but I'm not sure I agree with this thread in saying that broadening the term "self-harm" is the problem here. I see this broadening as a way of resisting coercive psychiatry by drawing attention to the disparities in our treatment of different types of things deemed "self-harm".

One of the reasons that I consciously started using the term "self-harm" to refer more broadly to self-destructive behaviors that are deemed "normal", is that I have been close to a number of people who have self-harmed both in socially-acceptable and socially-unacceptable ways, and I've seen the way they've been treated with huge disparities in ways that exaggerates the mental state of people who do it in socially-unacceptable ways and downplays or ignores the problems of people who do it in socially-acceptable ways.

Examples of "socially-unacceptable" self-harm:

cutting yourself

addiction to illegal recreational drugs

anorexia when a person looks visibly emaciated

Examples of "socially acceptable" self-harm

equally bad levels of addiction to legal, prescription drugs such as opiates, ADHD meds, benzodiazepines, etc.

exercising until it is literally destroying your body

eating disorders where a person has a deeply unhealthy relationship to food, but "looks healthy" to the outside

I have seen people admitted involuntarily for all of the three examples of "unacceptable" harm. And yet many of these people were not in anywhere near as serious or extreme a situation as some other people I've known in the "acceptable" category.

Like for example, I knew someone who cut herself using razor blades and she was very careful to sterilize the razor blade each time, and she did it in such a way that it healed without leaving a scar. She was taking great care to take care of her body while engaging in this activity. On the other hand I know people who experience chronic overuse injuries and then push through them and develop serious, permanent damage to their body that they can never recover from. Because this behavior is normalized and even sometimes sanctioned as part of the "always give 110% mindset" that dominates much athletics, these people are not only allowed, but encouraged to engage in this behavior.

Another eaxmple, I know someone who ended up so addicted to benzos that she experienced the "electric shock" withdrawal symptoms, severe anxiety, depression, and trouble functioning for months when she went through withdrawal. And yet she got no help or support because the benzos were prescribed by a psychiatrist and she stopped using them without the support of a psychiatrist.

On the other hand, other people have gotten referred to mandatory drug counseling because someone found weed (back when it was illegal) in their room once. Even with no evidence they were addicted.

I also have seen people completely freak out when they see someone's scars from cutting themselves, even when there is no evidence that any of the scars are recent (a lot of people don't know how to tell) and then the person with the scars has to jump through hoops and expend a lot of emotional energy to avoid getting involuntarily hospitalized.

But then on the other hand, all around this same person will be other people who are engaging in self-deprivation of sleep, getting only 2-3 hours a sleep or even less, sometimes for many nights in a row. And this is an incredibly destructive behavior that is highly likely to lead to any number of serious mental or physical health problems. It can lead to immune suppression, illness, failure of wounds to heal, memory problems, other cognitive decline, psychosis even.

And yet no one is considering institutionalizing the people who sit around talking about how little sleep they got openly. Because this behavior is deemed more socially acceptable.

And the eating disorder disparity is ridiculous. I know so many women who have gotten compliments on their weight and how good they look, when they were at their worst in their eating disorders, and then when they finally snap out of it and recover and get back to the weight that is healthy for them? Nothing. Maybe even some people saying they have "put on weight" and "need to take it off" and stuff like this.

And I like the broadening of the term "self-harm" specifically because it draws attention to the fact that many of the more socially-acceptable behaviors, like depriving yourself of sleep, exercising until you permanently damage your body, taking prescription drugs as prescribed, or starving yourself, are actually a lot more damaging than some behaviors that are deemed less-socially-acceptable, like using illegal recreational drugs, or even cutting yourself.

Like when I look at the people around me it's crazy the disparity in how people are treated. It has nothing to do with whether or not people are harming themselves, and it has everything to do with whether or not the self-harm is socially-acceptable or even culturally-sanctioned.

I am begging Mental Health Culture to stop broadening the definition of "self-harm." If you want a term to convey the concept you're trying to express, may I suggest bringing back the term "bad habit"? "Self-harm" is grounds for involuntary commitment. Do you want people to get involuntarily committed for spending too much time on the internet before bed or volunteering for too many projects? No? Then don't give coercive psychiatry ammunition by broadening the usage of their coercive terminology! When I first started out in the Mad liberation advocacy movement, one of the arguments we made against involuntary commitment and coercive intervention for "self-harm" was that neurotypical people do things that are "bad for them" all the time, like playing football, smoking tobacco, or eating candy, and they still have the bodily autonomy right to make those "unhealthy" choices. The point was to highlight the double standard that some people were denied rights because of doing things that were allegedly "bad for them," while other people were allowed the dignity of risk and freedom to choose. Our point was "The neurodivergent/Mad person picking her skin should have the same right to bodily autonomy as the neurotypical person dancing ballet, even though both are doing things to their bodies that could be described as 'bad for them.'" The argument was that neither should be pathologized. Current discourse would pathologize both, as well as even more variations on human behavior. That's a big step backwards. "But it's only self-harm if it has certain emotional motivations" -- let me stop you right there. Coercive psychiatry does not ask us what our emotional motivations are. It dictates to us what our emotional motivations are, and increases the coercion if we disagree with it (because disagreeing with their assessments of our emotional state is also A Symptom). Do you think the Parental Surveillance Industrial Complex is going to listen to their children before following through on moral panic articles about how parents should take away their children's hobbies because they're "self-harm"? Don't ascribe good faith to coercive psychiatry, because coercive psychiatry doesn't ascribe good faith to you.

[bestcbd-gummies]

Debate - Is Marijuana Addictive?

Since quitting as well as determining to help others to do the same I am frequently asked the fiercely disputed 'Is marijuana habit forming?' concern. It is a subject that increasingly splits most 'specialists' and also even those that invest their entire adult lives inhaling it. Allow's effort to establish whether or not marijuana is habit forming. Beginning with a 'tough' medicine simply to make dependency less complicated to determine, decide and review the following passage for yourself if you assume the person is or isn't addicted to heroin: " When I can't acquire heroin or if I know that I will certainly be unable to have any type of for that evening, I promptly become a different individual. I am upset as well as psychological and also I really feel so depressed that I wont obtain that sense of relaxation as well as peace from the heroin. I truly despise feeling like I require it to make myself really feel much better."

In your opinion, is it reasonable to presume the person is hooked on heroin?

In my view there is no doubt whatsoever. I would certainly lay my home loan and also life on it! Okay, re-read that same declaration however this time the drug has now altered to marijuana. " When I can not get hold of cannabis or if I recognize that I will be incapable to have any type of for that evening, I promptly develop into a various individual. I am emotional as well as angry and also I feel so clinically depressed that I wont get that sense of leisure and calmness from the marijuana. I truly hate sensation like I require it to make myself feel much better."

With just the name of the medicine modified is it affordable to presume that person is hooked on cannabis?

Keep in mind just the name of the medicine has altered!

The declaration you have just reviewed remains in truth REAL as well as comes from a young woman who lately called me via http://www.quitcannabis.net who was clearly desperate for assistance - not because she was addicted to heroin yet hooked on our 'friend' marijuana. I am not suggesting marijuana approaches heroin dependency (naturally not!) and even that there are physical withdrawal signs and symptoms when we attempt to stop, but there is still that feeling of desperation as well as require for cannabis when conditions compel us to go without it for longer than we would certainly like. When your supplier is nowhere to be located and you can not find or kick back satisfaction in anything you do, like. That feeling of missing/needing cannabis is plainly a sign of emotional addiction. Think of heroin or cocaine as a maximum-security prison and marijuana a low-security open jail. Regardless of the regime and also problems found inside the prison, the bottom line is; even with exactly how slim and also lightweight the walls are or just how weak the protection at the major gate is, the feature of a jail is to restrict freedom. In this instance, your joy and pleasure of life. Don't fret! Not much more hard to quit when you accept marijuana is habit forming it comes to be even much easier! Let's effort to develop whether or not cannabis is addictive. " When I can not obtain hold of cannabis or if I understand that I will certainly be unable to have any for that evening, I right away transform right into a various individual. The declaration you have actually just checked out is in fact REAL and also comes from a young female who just recently called me using http://www.quitcannabis.net that was plainly determined for aid - not since she was addicted to heroin yet hooked on our 'close friend' cannabis. Imagine heroin or drug as a maximum-security jail as well as cannabis a low-security open prison. Once you approve marijuana is habit forming it becomes even much easier, not a lot more difficult to quit!

[thirtyoneflirtingnoneanddying]

9.6

I'm so like idk clogged I guess. I feel like I'm in a spiral that I cannot come up from. how can it get better than this? i want to see that happen. I'm typing this on my laptop waiting for Vanessa outside her house....anyway

I've been seeing all this stuff on ig about affiliate marketing and I really wanna get into it but idk how tf I'm supposed to do that......it's so overwhelming... I need to like actually sit down and do research uuuggghhhhhh there's also those straight to print shops I guess that are doing well UGH I just wanna make lots and lots of money and be very comfortable. I want a lavish luxurious life. I want to be able to do everything I want to do fuckkkkkk idk what's wrong with me like why can I not get my shit together

probably because I do not try. I always get so overwhelmed and uncomfortable and then I quit. why can't I adapt to that..... I feel like I can adapt to everything else... maybe that's the problem. I adapt too much outside myself and so inside I cannot adapt. ugh.

I did not go to school tonight. I feel a little guilty about that although it is wearing off.

I honestly feel like I'm not like physically addicted but mentally addicted to weed. like I won't experience any symptoms of withdrawal if I just stopped smoking tomorrow.......and like damn I don't necessarily hate being sober I just...... idk smoking is just something to do. it's cathartic. it's a ritual. but I'm using it without intention. so it's just like, starting to give me panic attacks again?

but not like an attack? like a really intense and uncomfortable wave.

I want to try being sober for a minute. but omg how overwhelming??? I need to have a big break from everything. a biiiiigggg break. I need to get off social media and just chill for a minute. no outside inspo just school, shadow work, and trying to make some more money.

something has got to hit for me. something has got to.... I know I will break into big money but idk how yet. I need to dig into the astrology surrounding that more...

one day I'll look back and laugh with 723K in one of my bank accounts

[the-black-dragons-den]

one of the withdrawal symptoms of quitting cannabis is having super vivid dreams and the possibility of dreaming about smoking weed and BOY-O THEY WEREN"T KIDDING. my most vivid dreams are most often nightmares and i've been having nightmares all week but last night were the most comprehensive and, they were super scary while they were happening but now that i'm awake, i'm like, these could be movie plots.

i totally get that some people don't like reading/hearing about dreams because they're not super cohesive and can be hard to follow, but i did my best to describe them below so if you're interested, read on

((also i used to be able to lucid dream and i might try to get my brain trained that way again, keeping a dream journal is one of the steps to making that work so this is also serving that purpose for me))

dreams under cut so i don't clutter up the dashboard -

my first nightmare: took place in the 1950's ish and I was at some kind of... political event? and during the course of this political event, the political party in power very suddenly announced that they were now planning to eradicate certain people, it was... pretty much nazi stuff without the pomp and circumstance of being an obviously nazi event. and i happened to be one of the unwanted-needs-to-be-eradicated type of people. so as people were leaving the event, the officials were pulling out us undesirables to be sent away to die.

i was alone and scared and trying to figure out how to get out without them realizing I was one of the undesirable people. and this family of like 8 people (who were not in the undesirable category) suddenly clumped around me, threw a hooded sweater on me to disguise me, and was like "we've got you honey, just keep your head down, you're one of us now, you're coming home with us". so they shuffled me out of the event and past the officials, passing me off as one of their family. one of them was wearing a nurse uniform like this which is what gave me an idea of the time period.

we had to walk back to their home, but we had to act like nothing was wrong even though I was terrified and shaking and wanting to just run. cars kept pulling up next to us and shining their headlights at us, and i would just instinctually freeze every time, but this family was like "nope no undesirables here, just us 'normal people'," until we made it back to their house safely.

we sat around their kitchen table, they fed me and took care of me, and were discussing what they could do to fight this horrid regime, when we heard a commotion in the front yard, and the mom of the family realized she hadn't locked the front door. we were all scared that this was the officials, having figured out that the family rescued me, and were now coming to take me away (and punish them for helping me). as the mom rushed to the front door, it burst open -- but it was another woman in a nurse uniform, who turned out to be a cousin or something of the family. she was also infuriated by the whole scenario and came to make plans with the family to fight against the nazis and rescue as many people as they could.

i woke up and told my husband briefly about the nightmare and that I felt like Anne Frank getting rescued by the Weasley family (fuck joanne and her books but that's who the family reminded me of).

--

second nightmare: you know how people don't join a cult, they join a "movement" or something and then later realize it's a cult? so me, my grandfather (pre-dementia) and my friends (from real life) A, S, and D (all male) were all wrapped up in the cult and we knew we needed to get out, and we had developed a plan to escape. but it was known that people who tried to leave would get drugged into mental oblivion by the cult leaders so they couldn't leave or cause any problems.

so we were all (everyone in the cult) sitting on these bleachers (like this but out in the woods) listening to the cult leaders talk, and i surreptitiously asked my grandpa if he remembered the plan. for some seriously idiotic reason, we had written it down, and he pulled out the plan and passed it to my friends to make sure they remembered. i'm sitting there like "what no put that away, the cult people are going to see, what are you doing?"

it was at this time that my friend A (who IRL we used to smoke weed with all the time, and who is being very supportive of me quitting smoking) pulled out some weed and started loading a pipe (which was not allowed in the cult), and i'm just thinking, "fuck I hope the cult leaders are more focused on that than this little piece of paper that we're stupidly passing around".

but i just knew the plan was blown, and i told my grandpa "no, we can't do it now, they know, the leaders know, we can't try to do this plan" but he didn't really get it. and he was invited to have dinner with the cult leaders and I tried to tell him not to eat anything because he was going to get drugged but he didn't listen.

cut to after the dinner, it was very clear that my grandpa had been drugged, he was not functional at all, just a totally empty shell of who he had been. and i panicked and i was like "scuff the plan, i'm going to get out and get away and then help my friends and grandpa from the outside when i'm safe."

so i took off running through the woods and the tree branches started getting caught on my clothes, and i just kept trying to run. but the tree branches became hands and arms pulling me back and i realized, i too had been drugged - i wasn't running through the woods escaping, i was deep within the cult's inner sanctum, i was heavily drugged, and the cult leaders were holding me down. i thought i had been careful but they had discovered our escape plan and had gotten to me without me realizing it. and now i was fully trapped and wouldn't be able to escape because i couldn't get a grip on reality. and that's when i woke up.

so yeah. crazy and scary when they were happening but really interesting to me now that i'm awake. idk if they're interesting to anyone else but they are to me.