#and are a bit more worried about other disassociative disorders

[ecos-syscourse]

Update! we're mixed origin! deal with it!

(is traumaneuro a term? we're traumagenic and neurogenic.)

we found that our existential ocd caused a lot of our dissociation, especially when we were young and our system was first forming. (idk, some time between the years 4-8 if you need that information. those were the years that we first experienced a bit of trauma (age 4) and then existential ocd (also age 4), and then the year we got out of therapy. (age 8, I think?))

it did cause us to dissociate, yes.

we actually didn't know this until recently, but apparently ocd can cause disassociative symptoms and can be comorbid with disassociative disorders. who knew?

we have two alters that we think may have been the first to split off, and one is neurogenic and one is traumagenic.

not only this, but a lot of our alters are formed from trauma, so we are still going to keep that.

[starlight-write]

🔥🧠Welcome to Braindump Central™🧠🔥

❤️ Welcome to my own personal Hell! ❤️ Here is where I store all my weird thoughts and writing projects that would have my neurodivergent ass shunned by my friends and family if revealed to the real world.

Originally, this blog was meant solely for writing tk fics (tw btw!). And while that is still our primary focus here, you can also find some regular-ass fanfics on my AO3 account, (which will be revealed soon enough) as well as sleep deprived ramblings, a shit ton of reblogs, and all sorts of other nonsensical shit.

The current annual hyperfixation that haunts my every waking moment is Hazbin Hotel, if that wasn't already obvious enough. So most of what I write will revolve around that.

Other fandoms I will write for are My Hero Academia, The Amazing Digital Circus, and The Owl House. (I live under a rock and don't know much else.)

Requests are Open and here are The Rules™!!!!

1.) Story Prompts, Character Headcannons, Character Pairings and similar ideas are all free game. (Also if you just want to talk, please I'm so lonely.)

1.5.) Requests aren't limited to fandom or tk fics! I love a good challenge so if you got a good prompt you wanna hit me with, I'm all ears!

2.) Obviously, I reserve the right to deny any requests if I can't vibe with it but don't think that means I appreciate your inputs any less!

3.) I will not write anything NSFW. (Dude, there are children here!)

4.) Requests will NOT be answered in a timely manner as I have the time management skills of a narcoleptic seahorse and run off of hyperfixation and spite alone.

5.) I'm not comfortable writing anyone's OCs for fandom fics, sorry.

6.) Keep it silly. Keep it fun. Don't be an asshole.

About the Author: (over sharing)

Here's some personal details about me that I feel like have a significant affect on my perception of reality and therefore my writing as a whole.

First things first, my irl pronouns are she/her. But let's be real, we're on Tumblr so call me whatever you want. Get creative with it.

I'm a 21y/o software engineering student diagnosed ADHD. (I keep praying to God but he's not answering) But y'know, that double homicide clearly wasn't enough and I got nerfed with a chaotic and relatively unstable living situation so if I go ghost for a hot minute that's probably why.

I identify myself as a sapphic-oriented AroAce abomination who ironically, is in a happy relationship with a man... (It was an accident I swear!) I'm just as confused as you are don't worry. So needless to say the pairings I write are going to be affected by that aroace lens but hey, if you're like me and enjoy exploring platonic dynamics a lot more then you've come to the right place!

Your girl also has a condition known as Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder (MaDD), as if my pea-brain wasn't screwed enough already. Pretty self explanatory, basically means I have this dumbass condition where I have to disassociate into my fantasy worlds for hours and hours on end instead of actually contributing to society. Fun, right? I mention this not only to spread a little awareness but also to *cite my sources* in a way. Pretty sure it's forced me to become a better writer in a way, too. So it's not all bad ig.

If you want any more personal information out of me you either gotta hunt down my FBI agent or fill out my friendship criteria form on Github.

Now scroll and enjoy yourself.

Also if I get one more dm blasting me for the badges I probably won't do anything but IT WAS FOR THE BIT!!!!

[clown-cars-blog]

o/ Hello again, wanted to offer our own advise about disclosing your system to a therapist because weve had to do it a few times now ourselves. Believe it or not most therapists now a days want you to just say it to them, all three of the therapists we told recently had the same reaction when we lingered for weeks and weeks and finally told them maybe a month or so in and every time they would say "why did you wait so long to tell me?" Now, weve been threw so many therapists not because they dont believe us but because none of them understand at all how to treat DID and one even flat out told us she had to transfer us to someone new because she just didnt know enough about it. So far in our therapeutic journey the only time a therapist told us they didnt believe DID was even a real thing was all the way back in 2015, most therapists now adays (prob because of the "trends" and "popularity" of it) at least know what it is and are a bit more informed about it. Honestly, the stress of worrying if your a system or not, while so very valid, is not a feature of DID. I kinda hate that denial criteria for DID because on one hand while denial is very common among systems and can aid in disassociation its also not a symptom that is consistent. The goal honestly is to kinda stop feeling denial at some point and we slowly have been reaching that point ourselves but is easier or harder for people depending on so much, namely how much shame you feel from yourself and your peers. ALL THAT TO SAY! If you feel your a system just say that "Hey, we have DID, can you help with that?" instead of "Do I have DID can you tell me I have it?". The genuinely worst casanerio is you get a new therapist if the one you have isnt helping you. And if your wrong about being a system? Thats okay too, its not a moral failing at all to simply be mistaken but to me it sounds more like you KNOW your a system and looking for a therapist rather then looking for a diagnosis. Also having DID is far more then just being a system! Having a list of what impacts you daily and what you need help with is really all you need. Id also recommend getting a therapist who has at least worked with a system before cause honestly our biggest issue is simply lack of knowledge and experience. I hope this ramble helped! Sorry if not and good luck!! Despite it all its still a scary thing to do for the first time so I do wish the best for you!

First off, I would love to thank you for your response! It was really insightful and made us realize a few things about ourself. Second, I get what you're saying. We're just nervous to say anything to our therapist because we're afraid of the switch that will most likely happen. Our funds for therapy come from our mother and she will definitely ask questions if she was told to switch therapists. And we know that denial is not a part of the DID criteria. It should be mentioned definitely to new diagnosed people because it's such a huge part of the disorder and it's brought up a lot in system communities. Third, this ramble really helped. We do experience symptoms that are related to DID, it's just that alters are more familiar with us. We struggle with dissociation, the ptsd, amnesia, SH, etc. We're just not very open about it, and I feel like we should. Anyway, thank you for your rambles. I love listening to others!

~Dylan

[willowwhispersspeakeasy]

Hi hi! I was the one who made the insomnia or MC with C-PTSD and wondering if I might be able to request it now :D I let it slip my mind. I tend to space out or disassociate alot, or even just shut down, feeling exhausted out of nowhere when reminded of the event. It'd be interesting to see how you write it ^^

(BTW I love your representation of insomnia because GOD does it get exhausting at times)

disclaimer: author does not have C-PTSD so please correct any mistakes made in the replies. I will do my best, but I am human so please be kind with your criticism

OM! big bros bros w/ mc who has C-PTSD

characters included: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, (+ Satan)

warnings: gender neutral reader, mentions of trauma, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, flashback mention

Lucifer he won't press the issue if you bring it up. hes incredibly thankful that you did, since he has little desire to make your life any harder by accidentally placing you in a triggering situation. if he finds you spaced out from a flashback, you can expect to be gently pulled or tucked away from anything that might over stimulate you. Lucifer might call for help if you have one of the boys you are closer to, or he will try and talk you back if possible. hes a very patient man, hands gentle but firm on your shoulders as he calls your name. your view of the outside world is blocked by his large frame and coat now pulled around you.

Mammon hes Upsetti Spagetti. Mams is very protective of you and he will vow to himself to never let something like that happen again. he won't press you with questions either, instead simply tugging you into his arms and refusing to let go. if he finds you spaced out from a flashback, Mams will suppress his own internal panic. he will cup your cheeks, trying to have your eyes focus on him. cooed soft words, calls of your name, and so many gentle reminders. that you are safe, you are with him, he won't let anything happen to you like that again, and that he loves you so very, very much. Leviathan Levi is quiet when you admit about your PTSD. he will ask questions, but less with the intention of learning the details of your trauma and more to try and understand what you mean by "C-PTSD" hes going to panic a little bit. what you have described sits heavy on his tongue, reminding him of the taste of blood, the feeling of bone slicing his hands, the horrors hes witnessed over the many many years hes been alive. your "flashbacks" sound a little to familiar. if he finds you spaced out from a flashback, hes going to probably call someone else for help. hes to scared, trying to choke down his own anxiety. if you two are alone, he will try and bite back his own fear and pull you into his lap somewhere, holding you close and trying to hide you away from whatever triggered you. Satan hes heartbroken. your words and your story reminds him to closely of his brothers story of falling from heaven. he will hold you close if you let him, asking gentle but pointed questions to understand you better. if he finds you spaced out from a flashback, Satan will set away from whatever situation you are in. he will speak to you softly, trying to find something to get a response out of you. he won't outright touch you like the others, worried he may trigger you further if he does. hes worked hard to maintain his temper and thus being around him can offer you an overall sense of calm in moments like these.

[whaleofatjme1920]

hi, we just recently discovered your blog and we're in love with your work!

if you're comfortable with it, can we please have tim, jay, and brian from marble hornets with an s/o who has DID (dissociative identity disorder)? thanks in advance :)

- gemini anon <3

Tim, Jay, and Brian with an SO that has DID

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: So, few notes: the information I'm talking about is directly based off of criteria from the DSM-5, as it is the source I am most familiar with. While I am a third year psychology student, I DO NOT know everything and am constantly still learning. This is simply to the best of my abilities, and more so focuses on the perception these characters have towards the Reader, and not really me going into depth with DID. Because of this, the headcanons are being kept short. I will not go into depth on alters themselves and ask for future reference no more DID related asks come through that expand off of this idea/ask.

Also, I saw your ask roll in on the 24th - will add your name if it isn't there already lol. Also also, thank you so so much! <3

If there's anything here that needs to get changed, or if anyone wishes to talk to me about this specific ask, please don't hesitate.]

Tim

I don't think he inherently gets it. If we're talking about Tim-Tim, he really doesn't get it? Might say some insensitive things in his quest for learning, but ultimately he goes hard for you because he loves you. He's got his own stuff to worry about, just wants to make sure you're doing alright in the long run. When it comes to switches themselves, if you're losing huge chunks of time, he's going to be really, really worried. He's already got some issues with his memory, but he always manages to help keep yours in check and in tact. Also, if one alter is fronting and that's the one he gets into a relationship with, he won't,, just start dating another alter. He can't quite explain why, but says it's cheating even if you share a body. He's still a bit confused on the whole thing, just tell him how to help you and he'll act accordingly.

Jay

Also very, very, very confused on how to go about this. Jay is somehow both self centered and very empathetic all at once. He loves you more than anything, but at the same time, he's confused and that confusion leads to some frustration. It is NOT your fault. Sit him down and talk to him about it. At first, he wants to "fix" you, wondering why you have switches, why you disassociate, why you're going through x, y, and z. Sit him down and tell him what YOU want first and foremost. I hate to say it but I don't think Jay ever really gets used to it. He's sweet and polite, but meeting another one of your alters has him a bit shy and unsure of himself. Depending on your experience with DID, he's more worried than in other experiences. Just,,, yeah. I'm not saying he's a jerk, he's just confused. He absolutely adores you, and wants what's best for you but doesn't always know what that is.

Brian

He's the most cool with it. He probably knows what DID is/already has a general idea of what it is. Brian loves you so so much it's unreal. He takes into account the host, and the alters, but like Tim, keeps track of who he started dating. Depending on who was fronting, he won't date another alter depending on how they feel about it. He doesn't want to hurt anyone or cheat because that's not cool and he respects everyone in the system regardless of how many there are. He asks a lot of helpful questions after doing some reading of his own. He wants to make sure he can help you without you babying him, and at the same time, wants to know when to back off! His memory is pretty great? Depending on if you have dissociative amnesia and to what degree, he can help fill in blanks when he can. I just think he's the most prepared, and helps you the most when you have no spoons left. He watches for your triggers as well.

[ranger-kellyn]

it's not exactly easy to sit here and type this up after two bad mental health days, but i'm doing my yearly tradition of sitting in lilsimsie's stream until it's midnight on the east coast, and have about ~40 minutes before this edible kicks in and well. better get writing lmao

looking back in my 2022 journal, i think it's fairly safe to say that the start of the year is always rough on me, mentally. we're officially in winter, and the seasonal affective disorder is in full swing, so like. i KNOW what's wrong. it happens every year. doesn't stop the low from kicking me in the gut, though

2022 has been a rough year. my job responsibilities have been picking up, we've been traveling more, and it's only looking to increase even further as i continue. and sure, that's the typical progression of a job regardless, it still stinks at times. the only thing that makes it manageable is the fact that i genuinely do like all my coworkers. it's always a good time when we go out for dinner and drinks when we're on travel, and the holiday party i went to the other week was a blast.

but 2022 has also been a bit of a...i can't think of the word. reckoning? the realization that like. (and DONT fucking come for me i KNOW i'm still very young but hang with me here) i'm aging.

and with aging comes different health concerns and whatnot. as much as i have the bad tendency to overshare on the internet, there's plenty i haven't really talked about, and i'm at a point where i really need to like. take control. before things get worse. two (or more honestly) health problems i've had this year are directly related to me having such a sedentary lifestyle. if i don't take control and start holding myself accountable to getting up and being more active, things are going to start getting bad.

i've already been trying to get up and do more stretches throughout my day when i can. it was also part of the "deal" i made with myself for allowing me to have my tv up in my bedroom. if i wanted to keep it up here, i have to do at least a few minutes of stretches each day, and so far it's never felt like a punishment, so hopefully i'll be able to hold myself accountable.

i'm also working on eating better. my aunt got me this super fancy rice maker for christmas, and it makes really good steel cut oats as well. there's not much i can eat in the morning without getting horribly nauseous, but oats seem to be the exception so. that's been nice to have! my first baby step goal with eating is to just. eat. 3 meals a day. they don't have to be huge elaborate meals, but at least something. from there, i can start worrying a little more about content. my other first goal is to try to ease off on the soda bc i KNOW i drink way too much. the last time i was able to cut it out was when i started by just. drinking a glass of water before i allowed myself to have the soda, so that's my plan for now.

also. cut back on the weed bc like...being high practically every weekend just so i can disassociate it away. is uh. Not Healthy, but clearly i'm not starting that one tonight dskflhk

BUT. enough about the negatives--

there were positives in the year, too. i moved to a bigger apartment. i got to travel to new places. i took my bestie to my cousins wedding and had a great time. i got to spend time with my friends. i went to a pride event at the science museum, and went to the My Brother My Brother and Me live show. i was fortunate enough to get tickets to see taylor this next year, nashville and two nights in seattle!

i also got a TON of writing done. i didn't finish my goal of finishing any of the three ongoing fics, but i DID get a lot of good writing done. after a multi-year hiatus, i was able to update Getaway Car with a new chapter before Midnights was released, and with only three chapters left to go, the end is within sight.

i've also done a ton of writing on countless other stories. i'm hoping i can carry this energy into the new year, and actually finish one of my fics in 2023 lmao

i'm also really hoping i can get back into drawing.

but anyways.

here's to hoping 2023 is a good one

[blackgirlcinephiles]

Warning: Long Rant

I want to direct attention to a specific exchange in the most recent clip. The part where Ava mentioned that Nora said “She’ll fail anyway” regarding Fatou handling her part of the basement cleanup.

It wasn’t that long ago when I saw someone on here say that Ava has a habit “talking behind other people’s back.” But Ava has never said anything behind someone’s back that she isn’t willing to say to their face.

In moments of conflict, she’s the only person who expresses the full extent of her frustration unabashedly. She doesn’t let everyone move past the problem without it being fully addressed and because of that quality in her, she’s constantly being positioned as the aggressor (read: villain).

Ava was upset for a perfectly valid reason, but it was going to be framed as an overreaction *once again*, until she pointed out that Nora also expressed the same frustration. Before she brought that up, it was just going to be another situation where Ava’s feelings are invalidated, bc no one else was speaking frankly about the situation so “Ava’s just overreacting because that’s what Ava does.”

The same thing happened with the hoodie launch. Sure, everything worked out just fine in the end, but before that, the girls were facing a situation where they wasted their entire budget on a hoodie design no one wanted and Ava’s former bullies were ridiculing them all over Instagram for it. Ava, in particular, was frustrated b/c she was in charge of communicating with their prospective customers and she basically headed the project. It was perfectly understandable (at least to me) that she wanted to push Nora for a real explanation on why all of that had to happen, esp after Nora said she didn’t care right before walking out of the event.

That’s not to say that Ava was entitled to a full explanation on Nora’s disassociative disorder and alcoholic mom, because she’s wasn’t. And that’s also not to say that her personal history with the Instas didn’t influence her response towards Nora because it very obviously did. But there was also a clear lack of communication, and because Ava didn’t let that slide, she’s the bad guy.

ETA: The point I’m making here is that even in situations where the other girls in the group share Ava’s sentiments (Curiousity about why Nora messed up the design: Mailin, exhaustion about having to explain racism: Fatou, frustration at Fatou messing up the basement cleanup: Nora) Ava is always the only one to address the problem and state her feelings in a direct, confrontational way. Even though we’ve seen her pull back a bit this season. And she’s becoming a pariah over it.

This treatment of Ava pisses me off so bad, bc this whole dynamic is so recognizable to me as a Black girl. It’s something that happens very specifically to Black girls. I can’t begin to count the amount of times where I’ve been the only person to confront an issue head on in a situation, no matter hesitant everyone else was, only to be left hanging.

Very quietly other (non-Black) individuals involved would tell me that they “completely aggreed with everything I said” and that “it needed to be said,” “thank you for doing that” etc. It happened so often that people would even default to me to address conflict. “Could you say something? I mean you’re just so good at it.” Yet, despite how much they claimed to support me privately, they never backed up me publicly.

And what is the result of a Black girl repeatedly being put in the position of sole initiator, instigator, aggressor in tense situations? Look no further than the nearest Druck youtube/instagram comment section for your answer.

I am sick of this.

When pre-dominantly non-Black spaces aren’t being actively hostile to Black people, they are unempathetic and indifferent. Black girls and our feelings/opinions/concerns are an inconvenience. That is how Ava has been treated by the fandom in general, but this season esp.

And perhaps that’s the fault of the writers. I know I have mixed feelings about how the topic of racism/allyship has been written, and that’s for another post.

But it would be dishonest of me to simply blame the writers, bc I know that’s not how racism and implicit bias works. I’ve unconciously distanced myself from Druck and posting about it seriously because Ava’s conflicts just hit too close to home. And it hurts to watch the audience response to her. It is a reminder of how I’m constantly afraid people will respond to me. But now I’m thinking of speaking up more because this is really just not fair.

It’s not fair to have grit my teeth and stomach completely tone-deaf, mean spirited comments about this Black female character while holding out hope that the narrative will eventually clear up all conflicts. I’m deadass worried about an Ava season now. How will she fare with an audience so unforgiving to her?

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Headcanon: Shouta likes fuzzy socks and all things warm and cozy. As soon as he trudges through the door, he sheds his outfit, uncaring where the articles end up. His shoes, however, are placed neatly where they belong. Contrary to what his appearance may suggest, he’s very tidy. He exchanges them for cotton pajamas, thick winter footies, a scarf, and a heated blanket to soothe his muscles. I imagine he does this even in the summer because it is therapeutic to be bundled and wrapped so tightly. His lounge wear of choice is an animal onesie. Yes, he wears the hood. No, he isn’t coming out unless he has to.

He doesn’t care much about the childish connotations. If it’s comfy, he’s gonna wear it.

It’s used to de-stress from whatever the day threw at him. He’s the type of guy that goes for showers, but that’s only for convenience’s sake. If he has the time, he’d prefer a hot bath to soak in. Shouta loves baths. He’ll stay in well after he’s pruned, and the water grows lukewarm.

Bubbles? A must.

Scented salts? Hell yes.

This man is the king of luxuriating.

He has depressive episodes where he won’t indulge in them. Besides that, he enjoys pampering himself. It’s a great way to look after his mental health.

Aizawa is tidy, but it doesn’t seem that way to others.

There’s order in his disorder.

They don’t understand his system.

There aren’t any clothes strewn about, no dirty dishes around. His desk is full of clutter—papers unorganized and browned from coffee stains. The hero has no problem finding what he needs out of the tall stacks. The mailbox is overrun with envelopes he’s been meaning to get around to.

Some days he’s overwhelmed—unable to bring himself to finish minute tasks. Everything he needs to do in his home life, basic things like washing utensils and doing laundry, on top of the pressures from work, sends him into silent anxiety attacks. They’re manifested in him spacing out and disassociating to cope. He never realizes he’s doing it. His mind blanks out and blinks back in like a TV losing signal. The worst is that he doesn’t recognize his attacks for what they are.

Little things escape him. Without a friendly reminder, he’d forget to eat. Gentle reminders go a long way. He appreciates being guided to the table or couch when he’s toiled at his desk for an unhealthy amount of time without pause. His mind is addled during such moments; the cotton fuzz makes mental cognition a difficult feat. He asks only for a bit of patience while it winds down. Please don’t become frustrated if it takes him longer than normal to respond to questions. He could also use a little reassurance that he isn’t a pain to deal with. Shouta has moments of insecurity like anyone else. Just...sit beside him; company is all he requests. Should he entertain greed, he’d also contend for tender hands scratching softly at his scalp.

His penchant for sweets is no secret. Aizawa keeps a dish full of candy on his desk to regulate his blood sugar in case he doesn’t ‘have time’ for a break. The amount of time this worrisome man has ignored his stomach, headache, and the beep alerting him of his body’s need is concerning. He only stops when his body mandates it. He’ll overwork himself until he hasn’t the strength to move. His tenacity is admirable, but it’s also very foolish.

Shouta won’t stop unless he sees the negative effects of pushing too hard in a concerned loved one, not the negative impact it inspires in himself. It isn’t a victory as it is not done for his sake, but more so for theirs.

He’ll run his body ragged. To him, his mental state is fair game. The erasure hero began treating himself kindly due to his lover’s insistence. It’s not that he cared for himself; it’s because he cared for them. Their worries mattered. It’s plain to see he doesn’t matter to himself.

[vtforpedro]

long, long health update - tw in tags please read them

I am going to speak very frankly about suicidal ideation; please don't read further if this is triggering for you ;3; but please know that I love you I had my follow-up appt with my neuropsych on monday to go over my results and whatnot. it was virtual, and I was in the middle of a head episode and I told her I wasn't doing well, but within about 5-10 minutes, she was saying I should probably go to the ER lkajflaj I guess it looked pretty bad lmao anyway I told her all the reasons I couldn't. medical trauma, being dismissed b/c I have doctors who manage my headaches, and I know it's not life-threatening even if it is 10/10 agonizing, so why are you here. they're so dismissive. she said that they have medication to possibly help break the cycle of constant migraines but I've been treated with those before and they didn't do shit migraines are secondary to iih. it's the iih that needs to be fixed ._. she said I still deserved to not suffer and that the ER is very strict about keeping covid patients away from other patients and I didn't have the heart to tell her they intubated a covid patient 10-15 feet away from me last time I was in an ER 😭 anyway so the results. she said she wasn't worried about anything going on that was concerning or indicating something wrong in my brain. I DID score quite a bit lower for someone my age on information processing (which is exactly what I said I was struggling with to my two neuros who were both like ehhh) and some issues with memory but they weren't super specific and so it could be something neurological, could be my migraines and constant agony lmao, could be my Emotional State. could be all of them at once, I suppose ;) she went into more detail about some of these things but it was the two questionnaires I filled out that were HNNN. so once all the data is entered from like 300 questions it shows a good look into my personality and perceptions and all that and it makes a cool little graph (OR SO I THOUGHT). the kind that looks like mountain peaks. so she points at the one that is waaay higher than the rest and nearly touching the top of the box and she's like 'do you see this one' me: yeah 😬 her: this is your feelings and ideations about suicide me: 😬 😩 😬 her: when I see a score this high, I stop what I'm doing and I call the police to have them escort you to a hospital me: 😬😬😬😬😬 her: but I didn't do that. because when we spoke in office you told me you felt this way and why you don't do it. you told me it's something you've lived with for a long time and the pain you are suffering is what makes it so bad. and I trust you me: 😭😭😭 okay her: do you see this line down here? this is people who have suicidal ideation recorded on this test. you scored 98% higher on suicidal ideation compared to people reporting suicidal ideation HNNNNNN. she said it probably wasn't surprising to me and asked me if I was safe again and all that. I assured her I was and said in my previous appointment; I've had suicidal thoughts since I was like 12? maybe earlier. there have been very few times in my life not surrounded by abuse and trauma so I'm never really free of it. I've had four traumatic incidents causing increasingly horrible episodes of ptsd in nine years. all through my 20s. still here woo, lol and she said she knew that and had a patient not long after my first appointment who had similar circumstances in their life. and they told her it's almost a comfort having it. cause I was saying it's in the back of my mind at all times and I won't do it, but yeah, it's always there. anyway she said they said the same thing; it's always there, always in the background as 'hey I'm an option!' even though we aren't going to harm ourselves. it's a comfort knowing there is an option even if we plan on never using it? idk it just spoke to me and I felt it in my soul we talked about some emotional stuff after and I cried and it was a thing. it felt really good to speak to a psychologist who, just as she was in the first appointment, seemed genuinely concerned and wanted to help

me. I told her I was ready for therapy and she said she'd already looked for therapists for me lkasjdlkja and gave me a group that I emailed yesterday. I don't think they'll take my insurance but she said to message her through the portal if they don't and she'll try to find someone who does I don't remember if I mentioned it, but since she knew about the head shit before I met her, she dimmed her office lights without asking if I needed it and like as soon as we started the virtual visit, she leaped up and dimmed them and said she should've thought about it before the appt 😭 (I keep my brightness really low on my computer and use the warming feature 24/7 on comp and phone and my apt is really dimmed but it still helped a lot when she did it) she kept saying 'you did nothing wrong. it was the choice of others to do what they did. you don't deserve to carry their choices. you deserve to be able to hand it back to them. you don't deserve to be in pain. you did nothing wrong. you deserve to be free of what they did and you deserve to not suffer in such physical pain' I'm so wary of doctors but I really like her and I feel fortunate to have been referred to her ;3; speaking for a long time and especially emotionally is hard for me, so I might try to do two sessions a month once I find a therapist and see if I'm ok with that. trying to keep everything virtual while delta is out there I read her report and her official diagnosis is uhh really strong for major depressive disorder, severe. and severe ptsd with disassociative symptoms so!!! I claimed both of those on my disability application and the person handling my claim told me when I had this appt to call and let her know because she wanted the info. I signed a release the day I was there when I told my neuropsych that cause MH stuff is different than other medical records. she said she faxed it to the woman handling my disability application but I was gonna call her and ask if she received it and also tell her I have a new neuro so she will probably request his stuff too I called today and her voicemail box is full so lol try again later today's been awful. last night was horrible. got a bill for over $800 from my colonoscopy/endoscopy even though I asked numerous times if insurance was covering it and was told yep, every penny. so I was on the phone with insurance and the surgery center for 45 minutes. insurance seemed confused af but the agent I spoke with got some help from people who handle this stuff I guess finally she told me not to pay it, they're going to send them a letter to get it sorted (idk if this means I won't have to pay it at all or if they're going to try to make it that way. but I think govt insurance, which is what I have, works differently. like doctors kinda have to follow what they say vs. the other way around) and not worry about it for the next 30 days. I'm still gonna worry about it lmao they used a nice scare tactic on the bill that this was the 'LAST AND FINAL NOTICE' despite the fact they've never sent me anything else. my mom and the insurance agent said nah that's just what they do to scare people into paying fuckin love america <3 land of the free. the american dream! greatest country on earth 💜🖕💜 I just don't want it to go to collections and have to fight credit bureaus to get it off my credit so it's not destroyed |: anyway my head hit like 10/10 bad while I was on the phone cause of the talking a lot and trying to PROCESS INFORMATION and stress and also the fucking hold music, which I have to hear in some way b/c I gotta know when they're back on the line hnnnnn bad day. it's 1pm and bad, bad, bad day. bad month all around. I want this shit to stop anyway. I'm sorry about the suicidal ideation talk, but it's important to talk about that stuff. it can get severe but it can also get better. it does, eventually, even if it comes and goes. it always does get better I'm sorry, I also really needed to get this down somewhere. feel like I'm going to explode emotionally AND physically and I need to talk about it. hopefully

soon I'll have a therapist to talk to so I can get a lot of this stuff worked on. got my whole life to chat about so it'll probably take a long time but I'm willing to let it lmao therapy doesn't usually work for me anymore but idk I've had a lot of shit happen in less than two years so maybe it will this time I'm trying! I really am trying if you read this rambling monster, thank you. love you all and please stay safe

[entitycradle]

A Tree Without Wind

Content warnings: mention of, discussion of, threats of, and plans to commit suicide. Panic attacks, disassociation, and paranoia are described, sometimes in detail. An eating disorder is alluded to. Characters are horny for each other but there’s nothing sexually explicit.

I promise the ending is hopeful. I genuinely am not trying to trick you, I know what this sort of thing is like, I want to respect your capacity while still being truthful to the experience and allowing tension in the story. If you’re in the right place for it, click that button.

A TREE WITHOUT WIND

I was nine years old the first time Phoenix told me he was going to kill himself. Is that too brutal? Sorry. It's where this starts. We were outside, in the morning before it got too hot, kicking around a ball in the scrubby grass. We used the long shadow of the I34Q tower to make the rules--you can't use your hands if you're in the sun, that sorta thing. It was fun because the boundaries of the shadow were always moving with the shape of the tower, and because the tower was a little scary. Phoenix lost a game and just said it, frustrated, "I'm gonna kill myself." I laughed.

When I was that age I loved looking at the shadow of the tower, because it made so much more sense than the real thing. You'd look at the dark, fuzzy stain on the ground and you could imagine it was some sort of antenna, or house, or marker. But then you'd look at the structure itself and your eyes would glaze over trying to figure it out. Unevenly rotating, stacked polyhedral structures, dark gray but covered with a rainbow film like an oil slick. Irregular pieces would be transferred between different sections with no apparent pattern. It smelled like someone you'd never met. The tower was doing something but no one was ever clear on what. That's how it is with I34Q stuff, I think.

I'm stalling. It was some stupid shit, he must've picked it up from some awful caster or something. As a kid Phoenix liked that sorta thing. He'd watch videos of mean people cursing and laughing and he'd laugh with them. I preferred my cartoons, or the I34Q casts, as weird as they were. Later I repeated what he said when I found out my dad was making squash for dinner, "I'm gonna kill myself," and my mom told me off pretty hard. Kept me from saying it again, at least in school and at home. Phoenix kept at it though.

- = -

Phoenix and I got put in the same dormitory when we went to T-school. Do they call it T-school in other places? It's the thing where 4Q tanks (as in I34Q) come and take a bunch of eleven-year-old kids to stay at "training" facilities. No one I've asked knows what T-school is actually for, same as the towers, same as all the 4Q stuff like I said before. An organic shape attached to the ground heads a classroom, gibbering except for the occasional english sentence (Phoenix said he also recognized some Cantonese). Mrs. Lough, who apparently also lives in the facility, tries to teach "formalist english," which is like english but the rules contradict themselves. You take notes on the behavior of a tank filled with inky fluid for four hours a week. One day a three-legged machine packs up your stuff and shepherds you to the gate.

I was ejected a year and a half after Phoenix. I went home on the bus and met him at burger king that afternoon. I caught a glimpse of him from outside. His hair was in long, tight braids. I felt self-conscious about the uncontrollable smile growing on my face. "Aco!" he said through a grin as I opened the glass door. A green poster advertised a meal made from "water beads," an I34Q plant thing.

"Dang," I said, grinning as I sat down. "Dang."

"You make it out? Fuck you to 4Q?" He'd stopped eating to greet me. His grin looked as uncontrollable as mine. Phoenix's nose was wide and flat, also like mine.

"Fork you, 4Q." I still felt nervous about cursing. I was fourteen. "How ya doing, Phoenix?"

"I'm good, I'm good. High school is interesting."

"Oh, man..."

"It's actually like, fucking nice to understand what's happening. But now there are actual smart kids and you actually get punished when you, y'know, mouth off. I'm like, I gotta get around to--" He swiped with his hand, bent his neck, and made a cracking sound with his mouth. I laughed. "Don't worry, I'll show you around. Maybe we'll have a class together."

- = -

We did have a class together. High school with Phoenix was fun, because I got to have a proper crush on him. Pining, sexuality, youthful obsession, yards and yards of it. It was weird, we kinda drifted--Phoenix hung out with kids that I was afraid of, I hung out with kids who played too many videogames. As our familiarity waned, I started seeing him differently. A foreign, adult desire began to penetrate me, replacing childish affection. It took me a while to realize that's what was happening.

It was a shame our familiarity waned, though, because Phoenix was really struggling, and I didn't see it. His friends were mean, when they weren't outright abusive. Not a lot of people liked him. I learned later that he started hurting himself when he was sixteen. Little cigarette burns, and then cuts. He got put on meds at seventeen--the wrong meds, for a year. He went to a psych ward when he was nineteen. His family did not have the money to pay for an extended stay. I still don't know exactly how that worked out. I do know he went into debt after his second stay two years later.

I wasn't doing too well myself, after I hit twenty-two. Something in me broke I guess. So when Phoenix told me he was going to travel to the Santitos digger and throw himself off a cliff, it didn't take me very long to ask if I could go with him.

- = -

"I... I didn't..." He paused for a long time. Ten seconds of silence feels unbearably long in a conversation, and I was quiet for fifteen. My teeth held each other tightly as his thoughts whirled. "I didn't..." He looked me in the eyes. There was an intensity to both our gazes. He'd stuck his jaw out, just a little. "I guess I did. I was, kinda, hoping you'd say that."

"Fuck," I said, looking away and down. "Fuck." I put a hand over my eyes, gripping my face as tears came.

"I'm gonna die," he said, beginning to smile and looking up. I felt the discomfort I'd felt since we were nine.

"Yeah, I wanna go, I wanna go," I said, pulling my hand away midway through and looking back at him with a force I didn't recognize.

He looked back at me and said, "I'm gonna die, and you're gonna die with me."

- = -

The Santitos digger is in northern California, in the Redwood national park. People have figured out the basic idea of what the digger is doing, unlike the towers or the T-schools: the digger is making a big hole. I'd heard that in some places it had dug more than a mile, almost straight down. Don't ask me how the digger would've done that. Don't ask me why it's called Santitos, either, since it's pretty big and not very saintly. Maybe it was the name of a town. Getting to the digger from Prince George County was about fifty hours.

"I figure we could do it in three days if we really fuck-you-pushed-it. But I'm planning on five." I craned my neck to look at Phoenix's cracked phone screen, where he'd pulled up the route.

Gas is expensive because 4Q takes most of it. Basically no one flies. Even in Phoenix's hybrid, it would be a thousand dollars to get to the west coast. But it's not like we'd need the money afterwards.

"We'll eat along the way," he continued. I bit my thumbnail. "I'm not picky, we'll just stop at wherever they won't run us out of town."

We'd sleep in the car. It was April, so temperature wouldn't be a concern. I packed a change of clothes, a water bottle, my meds, and a box cutter I'd stolen from my last job.

The next morning, he pulled his blue, dented '38 prius in front of my apartment building. I saw the car arrive out the window. There was an anxious pit in my stomach that deepened when I opened my front door. I didn't want anyone to see me. This is it, I thought, this is it, this is it. I repeated that phrase down the stairs. My landlord could fucking charge rent to my corpse, I could give a shit. This is it, I thought. That final T stretched to enrobe me. The sky was gray and wet. The sensation wasn't enough to rip me from my inwards reverie. I was about to get in the back of the car when Phoenix spoke. "That ain't it."

He was leaning out the window, regarding me coolly. "Morning. Shall we go?" I walked around the car and got in the front seat.

- = -

Virginia is beautiful once you get into the mountains, forested and rolling. I told Phoenix, "Once I read the Appalachians are millions of years old, and used to be taller than the Himalayas."

"No shit. Was there like an Everest? Where's the old Everest?"

"I don't know, I never heard anything about that. But yeah the continental plates looked totally different. And then things changed and the rain and wind and plants broke them down."

"Hah. Fucking awful. Just being broken down like that. I mean, it's better than what 4Q did to Everest."

I was quiet for a moment. "That's... the worst thing they did, right?"

"I dunno, dude, I think taking kids from their families is worse."

"No, right, right. But like... Everest was like... like everyone knew about Everest. When I was really little I had this big book about mountains and I read the bit on Everest so many times. And now it's like... they made it about them. And people lived in the Himalayas before 4Q came! It forced everyone out and carved a bunch of nonsense into it. A forever reminder that we're below them."

"Hah, literally. Hmmm. I still wouldn't say worst, but, I get what you mean. I'm so numb to it. It's good some people still care." Phoenix shrugged. "I mean I dunno. It doesn't matter much to me, at this point. But from an outside perspective it's good."

That first evening was alright. I drove Phoenix into a beautiful sunset. You hear the phrase "rode off into the sunset" and you think, what a nice ending, but it's not really an ending. If you're the cowboy you keep riding, and eventually the sky darkens and you have to set up camp and eat and sleep and wake up the next morning and eat and go riding again. A feeling of dread and desperation fills me when I think of surviving alone like that. Maybe I'd get used to it. The trip to Santitos was an attempt to write a story with a proper ending.

We didn't stop until we crossed into Illinois. We parked on the shoulder of a country road. I used the light in the car to look at the atlas we'd bought for when we didn't have cell service, and laughed. "We've been in five states today. Pretty good. Keep it up and we'll have visited every state by June."

"What the--?" Phoenix snorted, laughing. "You mean if we visit five states a day. Asshole."

I always giggled when he snorted and called me an asshole. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Fucking dumb. Doesn't even work. You'd have to wake up in a different state than you fell asleep in." He caught my eye. The smile felt intimate, mutual. Born of sleepy exhaustion from a shared journey. I looked at the divot between his nose and upper lip.

I realized something. "Shit, I forgot to bring a blanket."

"Poor baby. You cold?"

"Hmm. I guess not really."

"Oh, you know what I do have..." He leaned towards me and reached toward the back seat. I watched his shirt stretch over his chest. Phoenix retrieved a big gray sweater. "Feel free to stretch it out."

My fingertips touched the back of his hands as I took the bundle. I did that on purpose. His skin was warmer than I expected, as skin always is. We tipped our seats back. Not the most comfortable, though the sweater would help, hopefully. I checked out Phoenix to see him on his side, looking at me and smiling. I let my own smile relax into me as I watched his eyes. His irises were a rich, beautiful brown. His skin was the color of cardboard in your childhood memories. I loved the way his smile wasn't symmetrical, wider on one side than the other. I carefully resisted scanning my gaze down his body. I actually saw his eyes flick down my form, instantaneously. His eyelids half-lowered, and then, horribly, what seemed to be a great tide of sadness overtook him. I watched him hold it back. I watched his smile mix with growing grief and fear, then bow to neutrality. He covered his gaze with his eyelids, breathed in, breathed out. "All right," he whispered, then opened his eyes. The gaze was gone. "Time to sleep." He sat up and turned off the light.

The sweater had a very particular, subtle smell to it. I guess it was his smell. I was desperately horny, yet blasted to pieces. A heady mix.

"I think I could fall in love with you, if things were a little different." He broke the silence, fifteen minutes later. "I probably would. But I'd cling to you like a fucking baby. And you're here, right?" He paused. For a response? I didn't give him one in time. "That's what I mean, codependent hell. I'd only be alive for you, and you'd only be alive for me, and then the second anything goes wrong we'd be right back here except I'd, fucking, direct all my shittiness at you... and you'd blame yourself."

I was quiet. "Ain't... ain't being codependent better than dying?"

"Hah! But that's what I'm saying, it doesn't change anything, it just leads us back here."

I fumbled for something. "Yeah but if it could... like stave it off..."

"Why is that good? The world is fucked, Acoatl, totally and truly fucked. Things don't get better from here, for me, for people. Should I beg? Stay here in misery out of some misplaced sense of morality? We're doing the only thing that makes sense."

I stayed quiet, not unconvinced. Sleep came, eventually, uncomfortably, anxiously.

- = -

The International Astronomical Union provisionally called it 8I/2034 Q1. I had to look that up. The eighth interstellar comet discovered, identified in 2034. I don't know what Q1 means. The name was briefly changed to 8I/Pasarati, for the research group that had discovered it, but by that time I34Q was clearly accelerating non-gravitationally and on an Earthbound trajectory. 8I/Pasarati is still in orbit, technically. You can see it through a telescope, it's like five miles across. But I34Q is the name for all of it, the craft that came to the surface, the life it brought with it, the structures it built, the war, all the consequences. No one can make any sense of it, except the one thing everyone knows: something else controls the world now.

- = -

I just barely remember waking up to switch seats in the morning, and then desiring nothing more than to return to sleep. Eventually Phoenix nudged me awake. "Hey." We were parked somewhere in Missouri. I'd slept all the way through the night and Phoenix's turn to drive. At least twelve hours, depending on when I actually fell asleep last night. I'd missed the big arch in St. Louis.

Phoenix was curt and reserved as I drove. I thought he was still thinking about last night, or angry at me for leaving him alone on his drive. Then he tilted his head back and began to gag. "My... heart..." Tears streamed down him face.

"Phoenix." I glanced back and forth between him and the road. There were abandoned cars on the shoulder; I couldn't pull over. "Phoenix, Phoenix, um."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop." He bent, heaved, and emitted a yowling, harsh retch. Nothing else left his mouth. "My heart..." He was breathing hard. A panic attack, I realized, stupidly too late.

"Do we have..." Panic attacks can be interrupted with certain intense sensations. The general goal is to increase awareness of the environment, focus the mind on the current moment rather than the future or past. Holding an ice cube can help. There were no ice cubes. I reached into the back seat for my water bottle, which would at least be cool. A truck behind us laid on the horn. I swerved back into my lane. "Sorry." Phoenix dry heaved again. It was a uniquely distressing sound.

I searched for the hazards, feeling useless. Far too much time passed before I found them and started slowing down. A different truck laid on a different horn. I was able to slip in a gap on the shoulder between an abandoned pickup and a rusting minivan.

I led Phoenix onto the tall grass beyond the asphalt, where he collapsed onto all fours. His torso flexed as he heaved. I put a hand on his back. "Phoenix, look at the trees." There were bushy, broken trees lining the sides of the highway, a vibrant green against the blue and white sky. "The, listen to the road." No, the road was stressing me the fuck out. "Listen to the grass waving, feel it." Stalks crumpled in his fists. I twisted my head and saw the tip of an I34Q tower peeking up over the treeline. "Look, a tower, just like when we were kids." Over the next few minutes, his breathing slowed, his heaving stopped. But the tears stayed. He sobbed away the panic. I read somewhere that tears actually contain different chemicals depending on the emotion causing them. Something to do with hormones I think.

He apologized to me. I would've done the same thing. I've done the same thing. So I got it, but felt indignant at having understood--he didn't need to apologize!

We got back on the road and listened to static on the radio. Sometimes the edge of a station would pass by, and we'd get fuzzy country, or christian rock. I changed it whenever there was a sermon. Sermons always come back to 4Q and they're always awful. The 4Q broadcasts are actually better than sermons about 4Q. They're kind of like static, anyway, totally unintelligible. We encountered more of them than I expected. Maybe static itself is a 4Q broadcast. I don't think that's right, I think static is like cosmic background radiation. But maybe 4Q has changed it somehow, like it used to be white noise and now it's blue noise, a different random distribution but still random.

"I'm off my meds," he said, as we rolled into darkness. The moon was a crescent, low on the western horizon. He spoke flatly and calmly. "I didn't even bring them with me. I thought you should know."

I hesitated. I wanted to voice this diplomatically. But then, we'd be dead in four days, anyway. "Is that why you had the attack?"

"No. I panic even on meds." That made sense. I remembered a few times in the past year when he'd canceled an event with little notice, or left early. "But I'm not a person right now, and that's definitely because I'm off my meds."

"You're not a person right now?"

"Yeah. It's called depersonalization. Also derealization, which is when nothing is real. Or that's how it feels, as I'm told. It's pretty freaky if I'm honest. You don't get the same emotional reaction from stuff. It feels like you're watching from somewhere else." He wasn't looking at me. He was looking down. "You're not you. You're not even real." He whispered. "Pretty freaky."

"Can I--do you--"

"Ahh, I'm coming out of it. Some of it is just recognizing that you're in it." He drew a knee up to his chest and shook his head. "Uhh, could you. Could you hold my hand. Touch helps."

I gripped the wheel with my left hand and held his palm with my right. It was warm and sweaty. I wish I could say that was okay. I felt miserable. I wanted to feel happy, holding his hand, comforting him. I didn't.

Sleep came quicker that night, though still uncomfortable, still anxious.

- = -

I slept late, again. I hadn't touched the chicken sandwich I'd gotten from a drive-thru last night. It had awful 4Q stuff on it anyway. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, so I was pretty hungry, but I had no actual desire to eat. I'd deal with it later.

My own panic attack must've seemed similarly unbidden to Phoenix, though I felt it coming about an hour beforehand, and tried to stave it off. We were on I-80, driving through the hypnotizing flatness of Nebraska. Every ten or fifteen minutes I kept seeing this scarlet structure. It was like a giant, bloody caricature of a water tower, a skinny, triangular column maybe ten feet across and at least two hundred feet tall, supporting an enormous squashed sphere more than twice as wide as the column was tall. I'd watch it rise from the horizon, far too big. I'd never seen them before but guessed they must be 4Q. I started thinking we were somehow traveling in a loop, that my sense of direction was faulty and we were passing the same structure in the same field over and over again. Then I started thinking about how crazy that sounded. But I couldn't stop the thought.

I wanted to pull over but I couldn't stop anywhere in view of the structure, because it was watching me. Of course it wasn't, but I couldn't stop the thought that it was. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe only the mad can decode the purpose of I34Q stuff. I felt how hard I was breathing and glanced over at Phoenix, wondering why he hadn't said anything. He was staring down. He was probably disassociating again, I realized later, but at the time all I knew was that I was alone.

I get angry at myself after my attacks. I feel so stupid. Phoenix apologized to me that night, which made me feel even stupider. I couldn't wait to get to the Santitos digger.

- = -

The next day was bad. Quiet, lonely, and frustrated. A further reminder of the reasons. I saw patches of 4Q purple grass climbing up the Rockies. We both took long shifts and entered Redwood park just after midnight.

- = -

I read a story once about a man that was falling in the dark. He was falling so far that he would die instantly when he hit the ground. He realized that his brain wouldn't have time to process the impact, or even the few moments before. And he couldn't see the ground. He couldn't see anything. All that was left in the world was him and his death. I wondered if Phoenix had read the same story, and was hoping for a similar effect, coming here at night. Of course, we got it wrong. There were clouds, burgundy with light pollution, and every few minutes a star would gaze through; an unearthly glow was cast up from distant pieces of the digger.

Some parts of the digger looked like the towers, spinning and shifting. Some parts looked like exposed microelectronics, cables sutured to shiny terminals of minute complexity. Some parts were just made of asphalt blocks, cream-, gray-, and lime-colored pebbles tightly embedded in dark tar. Distant redwoods, many damaged by fire, ringed the horizon. The Santitos digger was less an object and more a place.

I felt wordlessly close to Phoenix as we scrambled over asphalt, looking for a pit. We touched each other frequently in our effort, to assist, to communicate. We'd have to give each other boosts, lift each other up, look for alternate routes. This place was not made for people.

Finally we came upon a deep canyon. I had half a mind to walk off the edge immediately. But both Phoenix and I stopped to regard it.

I couldn't tell if the rumors were true. You could only see maybe a hundred yards down before the walls of the abyss disappeared into ink. Or, not ink--not blackness, either. People are black. This was something else. The most prominent features were the semi-perceivable red blotches left on my optic nerve after gazing at one of the digger's glowing sectors. The unknowable told me nothing. It just revealed the flaws of my being. Maybe we would achieve our effect after all.

"This is it," I said, elliptically. The beginning is the end. If you take out the 'h' that phrase is a palindrome. "That was the first thing I said out of the door before I got into your car on Saturday. If you take out the 'h' the phrase is a palindrome. The beginning is the end. This is elliptical. This is it."

"That ain't it." He was regarding me coolly.

I laughed.

He was angry. "Are you fucking kidding me? The point of this thing, the whole fucking point is you do it in your right mind. You're letting your madness make the decision for you. You have to make the decision!"

I found that extremely funny. I laughed harder.

"Shut up! Fuck!"

"What's a right mind?" I asked, still grinning. "There's no such thing anymore. Even when it was a thing, all it meant was the most socially-acceptable, capital-promoting mind. Now? The world doesn't fit us anymore. The human condition is inconvenient to its purpose. 4Q can't even train us. The right mind is a dead one. You want a right mind, go ahead." I gestured at the abyss. That's what I did.

He stepped forward. He stepped forward. A foot hung above the end.

I don't know what I would've done if he had lowered that foot, changing his balance, tipping him forward. Jumping in after him wouldn't have felt right. Maybe I'd have gone back to those red eyes in Nebraska and begged for them to torture me. Maybe his idiosyncrasies would have been repelled by the unknowable, flowing away from his body and into me, and I'd be lost forever in a derealized paranoia. Maybe I'd have gotten in the car and driven back home.

His foot remained, hanging, the edge a gallows. "Suicide is about pain. It's the ultimate response to ongoing distress. I never wanted you to be normal. I just didn't want you to be in pain. In a twisted way, I guess I thought, if this was your way of dealing with pain, I wasn't going to stop you. That is your right. I feel like that has to be your right." His balance was incredible. He remained still, a tree without wind. "But you can be abnormal, you can be a bad fit for the world, you can be utterly broken, and you can still live without pain." We're both crying. Tears descend into the pit.

| ' , |

I do think madness is the right way to understand I34Q. I feel this mysteriously. I wonder what it would be like if I tried going to T-school while embracing my altered states, living in them. I suspect Phoenix would have more success, being more comfortable with unreality. Not that either of us would participate in whatever hegemony 4Q perpetuates. More that we'd figure out what it wanted, and how to resist. I've been thinking about this a lot. Maybe other people are, too. We need to find each other.

Phoenix and I wandered north. We found this incredible queer community in Oregon, with actual traditions and mechanisms to deal with communal trauma. I can't say anything about the world, the world is unknowable. But I think there's hope for us.

Phoenix and I are together, now, in a way I can't quite name. We did finally make love. That was beautiful. But we don't live together. I make love to other people, sometimes, and he does the same. Sometimes I'll go a week or two without seeing him, without notice. Sometimes I'll go a few days without even thinking about him. I love him, and I tell him that, and he says the same to me, though both of us have admitted that we don't know what that means.

We still panic. I still get paranoid. Phoenix disassociates. He's been using the state to make art. I think about I34Q and write down what I think. I'm pretty good at eating regularly, even if I don't feel like it. I don't know if we're living without pain. I think maybe that's a pretty tall order. But I don't want to kill myself anymore. So I think that's pretty good.

[Ed.: have this little treat. It takes me about the length of this playlist to read the story.]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5VD5lJJqNUJsITPj3Rg8Sn?si=d262096479104d4f

[mordigen]

I had not written anything in a minute, as I typically use this as my sounding board, or soap box, if you will....but I guess things just hadn't gotten under my skin lately to make me feel the need to sound off. Which is a beautiful thing, I suppose, even if writing is lacking.

Indeed it has been quite....quiet, quite harmonious within the circles I frequent. Which is unusual, especially as we've had a couple Holidays, which usually stirs all the controversy. And I know with my last 3 part post I noted I had much more to talk about....but I've forgotten them all. So, they must not have been that important, eh?

It has been nice.

But (as there's always a but) in this quiet time I noticed something else - something I am certainly not unfamiliar with, but have never talked about, or confronted at all really.

I find myself feeling drawn away - and no, not in the depressive sense, as I am also certainly not unfamiliar with, but in a way that I have a hard time defining.

It is melancholy in the sense that it feels like a deep seated yearning - but not in a bad way, by any means, as I feel like if those yearnings didn't come and go over time, then I wouldn't be wholly myself. They are a part of me - they are not a bad thing, even if bittersweet.

They ebb and flow, and sometimes recede completely - at other times consume me completely. Though they usually hit me without warning, they start gradually and I can feel the oncoming tide. And once they've run their course, they recede just as swiftly, and gently, as they've rushed upon me.

It has happened for as long as I can, lucidly, remember. Though putting an exact date or age to it is difficult, as childhood memories tend to mesh and bleed together over the years, it can easily be said adolescence, at least, so it has been quite some time. But I still haven't ever gotten used to them, or have figured out how to cope with them - mentally or emotionally, anyhow. They do not prevent me from functioning or living my life, but they do wreck my mental state in a way. Though, I'm not sure I want to figure out how to cope with that...

I have been told by various people, at various points in my life, that I suffer from various forms of a disassociative disorder. Knowing I have depression issues I have investigated....but, No. Just no - it's not right. In all the many ones I have done ample research in, it's just not right - that is not me, that is not what I am experiencing. That is not what is happening, the "symptoms", even if some appear similar superficially, are all wrong.

When I say I feel drawn away, I do not mean I feel *detached*. That is a very big distinction - I'm feeling pulled away, to somewhere or something else, I do not feel disconnected. You can feel a connection to multiple things at once - so to be pulled into a something or somewhere else doesn't mean I have to detach, or "disassociate" with the here and now. I don't. Perhaps it is a foreign thing to try to describe to someone who has never experienced it before, and yes it is a hard to find the right words to begin with to really explain it in depth - but it's not that I "disassociate". Stop calling it that.

It is this very reason why I have never talked about it in depth at all, because even the slightest mention of anything puts others on high-alert. I know they are only trying to help, but no - you are not listening, you are not understanding. The best, and simplest, way I can recount it is like prioritizing. This thing - it's always there. It's always in me, and sometimes it just needs it's time. It doesn't even come first, as I still put all the needs and wants and important bits of this finite world first and foremost, but it needs its time in the sun, too.

As a child, they would say I was "dreamy" or just had an active imagination - I would day dream frequently, locked up inside my own head. Though I loved to play, and read, and write, and draw, I didn't need those things to enjoy my time. I could lay around for hours, in my own thoughts, completely happy and content, drawn away, off on an adventure, listening to the silent things whisper when they think no one is listening. I would doze and nap, and sleep extra long through the night - not because I was bored, or tired, but just because it gave me time in my own head - in my 'dreamland', where all these other things happened that wouldn't - or couldn't - in the waking world. As a young child, these were always described as good things....as a teen, it's often described as having your "head in the clouds" - something that is not necessarily good or bad, potentially problematic if left unchecked, but still nonetheless endearing. But as an adult? Phh. Well. Something must be wrong with you.

You're expected to grow out of it, but I find in adulthood it hits harder, and comes heavier, than ever as a child. Possibly because as children we're given room to indulge...it's creative, imaginative, learning to be content with your own company is touted as idealistic means of coping skills and personal growth - until it isn't.

For an extended time of my adult years I was wrongfully persuaded that it was hormonal as others had noted I tended to feel this 'drawing' around my cycle. I do get more emotional, and boy does the fatigue hit hard - but that still didn't make sense to me as it didn't happen *every* time on my cycle, and there were plenty of times it happened not on my cycle at all. Well, it doesn't have to happen everytime for it to be related, and hormones fluctuate throughout the whole month, so you don't have to actually be physically bleeding for it to be cycle related. What a cop out. With that logic, anything and everything under the sun and moon can be "cycle related". Bonus points deducted for the fact that every person telling me this was also, in fact, a woman. Shame. Lazy medicine right there. Lazy womanhood right there. And that's not even a feminist statement - that's just a common sense statement. Oh, so is every possible problem you ever have because of your period, M'AM ? So stupid. Stupider, yet, is that I listened to them. But I did, and I followed their suggestions - none of them worked, but with each new wave I would think the next would be better and easier if I just stayed the course - ignoring the fact that nothing was inherently wrong, and that this was only deemed an "issue" as it was categorized as "abnormal" and therefore must be fixed.

What I have come to realize now is that all those incidents - people wanting to categorize me with mental disorders, emotional disorders, or hormonal imbalances - call came at I time when I was, in fact, disconnected with something : my spirituality. I didn't have any type of falling out, or disillusioned from anything I ever believed in. Life just simply got in the way, I had more important things to worry about and do, and much less time to do them all in, so you just let certain things go that are not as pressing. Looking back at it now, I think maybe that is why they pulled on me harder in those years. Perhaps it was something drawing back in... I'd like to believe so, anyhow. And that's why I was stupid enough to believe doctors, and counselors, about stupid things I knew were not right - because I wasn't listening to the other half. And of course, nothing the ever suggested ever made one bit of difference - because it's not what was happening to me. And truthfully, because nothing was ever wrong.

As life started to level out, I slowly started doing little things here and there with my beliefs, with my workings. Little things, but baby steps, right? You can't just get off the couch and run a marathon - you have to warm up those muscles, start exercising those parts that have atrophied, and retraining your skills. Same applies - baby steps. It grew slowly over a few years - the tidal waves kept their course, as they do, and I just sort of accepted it at face value. But then the pandemic hit, and the world shut down. And boy, did I have all the time in the world.....and I used it.

Over this last year what I have come to realize is that, firstly - I was absolutely not alone. But also that I wasn't really paying as much attention as I thought I was - or my attention was skewed , by 'professionals', to focus on the wrong things. There was much more a pattern than I had ever noticed. These waves didn't come out of nowhere - though once they were on me, I could feel the gradual build - but before they ever even tickled my feet there were signs, there were patterns. I'd have days of restless nights, strange dreams, then it would fold into die-hard sleep, with absolutely no dreams at all - but waking as if I hadn't slept a wink and had been working all through the night. I'd wake with aches and strains, sometimes even bruises. We'd joke that our mattress was beating us up at night - we even forked out decent money for a brand new one. It's fabulous, and it solved zero of my problems, though my husband now sleeps like a baby...

It's only after these restless, exhausting nights does the tide start to flow back in, and the dreamy, dozey longing set in. The ache for something I cannot put my finger on, and the willingness to relent and let it take me away, even for just a time, and indulge in that pulling out to sea. I let it take me now - I do not fight it, I do not endure it, I let it take me and draw me out. And this is what so many professionals call "disassociating" - but that's not right. That's not what's happening.

And this is not some great spiritual come to Jeesus moment I am preaching to any of you, or certainly not meaning to be, but just the simplicity of paying attention. We, as pagans, just have the driven, inherent understansung that there are many more forces, and much more out there than what you see on the surface. And I had forgotten. Though I've kept my mouth shut, I've taken note when the topics and discussions come up - tons of people were in my very shoes. But they had been paying attention all along. I had forgotten. Some of the stories thrown out there I can't always get behind. Some of them are just flat out - No. But there were many more that weren't - they talked of the moon. The conjunctions. Astral travel. Being spirited away in the night. The veils. The Oran Mór. I was so stupid, I had been so blind.

And then, this year of much more laxed time gave me the opportunity to actually listen. These tides... their pattern.

The restless nights always came with the moons - these tides, they always came around significant dates....days when the veils are thinning. And now, as I feel the sweeping tides begin to pull again - here we are. Bealtaine is on the horizon. And as I wrack my memories.... every time.

Every. Time.

What is happening to me exactly? I still do not know - is this the call of the Oran Mór? Are the veils pulling at something deep inside me? Are the Fae trying to steal me away, as so many are quick to warn... Is there danger in letting the tides take me? Is this some deeper part of me being drawn home, trying to jar me to pay closer attention to things I have left forgotten? Something in there makes me think of my brothers...

I don't know all these answers, but I can't ignore them now that I've taken the time to listen. What I do know is that, whatever they may be - I don't want these tides to leave me. And believing that doesn't give me a dissociative disorder.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Giving up - Carson series

-----Trigger Warning---- This chapter is heavily focused on mental illness, mild drug use, and eating disorders. Do not read if you find any of these subjects triggering. This part of Carson’s story is particularly dark. This takes place when he was 16 and a junior in high school. There is PHYSICAL and EMOTIONAL WHUMP in the form of self-neglect, fainting, and a trip to the hospital.

Carson stared at himself for an unknown amount of time. He couldn't really remember what he was doing in the school bathroom in the first place. He only knew that after he came to stand here in front of the mirror everything slowed to a stop. His feet were cemented into the ground, preventing him from moving. And he stared so closely at his own eyes that his vision started to warp. He looked tired... and he was. It took a full two minutes to ask himself when he last slept and another two to conjure the answer. Three days ago. He'd been awake for around 62 hours now. The fatigue settled deep into his bones. He wanted to collapse at any moment, give in to the static that threatened to pull him under. But at the same time he wanted this feeling to last forever. Distantly he remembered that he was supposed to be in class, or maybe it was lunch. He didn't have any plans of eating so it didn't really matter which one he was missing. Carson forced his muscles to move as he instructed them, using his hands to unzip his backpack and fish out the empty altoids container that was now home to a half smoked joint and some kind of cheap e-cigarette. It's not like he could get lung cancer, he'd just cure himself later.

"Life is meaningless," he muttered as he lit the joint, blowing the smoke out the propped open window. If the bathroom didn't perpetually reek of weed he might be worried about getting caught. The other kids were too scared of him to tattle. He may or may not have played up his psychic abilities so they were convinced he'd really find out anything they said about him behind his back. The bathroom door squeaked open and Carson started to put out the joint before seeing it was some child, a freshman obviously. "Get lost." He said through a cloud of smoke. The kid disappeared without a fight. They always did. Now that he was free from his temporary catatonic state and proved capable of moving and speaking, Carson decided it was time to go find his way back to class. Maybe he'd even learn something. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Making sure the stub of the joint was completely out, Carson settled on tossing it right in the trash can as he left. The hallway was nearly empty, emptier now that he was around. The hum of the air conditioner threatened to lull him to sleep as he dragged his feet down the hallway. Any intention of going back to class was quickly abandoned when he realized he had no idea which class he was supposed to be in or even what time it was. The hallway was lined with clocks so theoretically he should be able to check but his eyes didn't cooperate when he squinted at the clock hands. Lack of sleep will do that to you.  As the effects of weed started washing over him in waves, suddenly the heaviness of Carson's black hoodie felt lovely on his skin. His hood was already up, covering his mess of dark brown hair, but he pulled it down further over his face in an attempt to breathe in every scrap of comfort it had to offer. His mom washed it for him often, embedding the sweet scent of laundry detergent into its fibers.

Carson found himself in the staircase. Naturally his feet had led him here, one of the most tranquil places in the school. The walls and stairs were painted a solid white and large windows let in the mid-afternoon sunlight. In the back of his mind he couldn't forget that this wasn't where he was supposed to be. His mom would be so sad if she received another call from the school about his frequent disappearances. She said she understood how he felt. That he needed to get away sometimes. But still, she had basic hopes for him to graduate high school and get a decent job. As of now he wasn't on track toward either of those goals because while he still got A's in most of his classes his lack of attendance was borderline truancy.

"Um, Carson?" Someone asked from the connecting hallway. Carson looked up through red, glazed over eyes. It was Pete, one of the football players in his 4th period science class. "Mrs. Finn asked me to find you and bring you back to class." He stated plainly.

"Did she now?" Carson asked, habitually glancing at his left hand for something to smoke. Disappointment washed over him when he found it empty again.

"Yeah. She said she won't mark you up if you come back for the last 15 minutes," said Pete. Carson could tell he was trying really hard not to provoke him.

"Lucky me," Carson drawled, turning his gaze to the window beside him.

"Are you coming?" Pete asked when he'd officially lost Carson's attention again.

"Mmm, yeah I guess."

Without another word Pete turned around and allowed Carson to follow a few feet behind him. Pete wasn't so bad. He treated him more or less like everyone else did but being a tough football player he couldn't admit to being scared of him. It was refreshing to get within ten feet of someone without them flinching. Wow, he was so alone that walking vaguely near another person felt like a treat. They walked for quite a ways, showing just how far Carson had wandered. They had to go to the other end of the school and up a flight of stairs. The stairs proved to be a bit of a challenge. Carson was just so tired, physically, mentally, spiritually. That single flight of stairs took everything out of him. He had to grab onto the railing and half haul himself up with his arms. Pete waited up at the top while Carson took his sweet time with each and every step upward. Spots started to dance around his vision alarmingly but Carson wasn't about to admit that to Pete. Instead he focused on breathing a little quieter and keeping his eyes on the ground.

"You, uh, seem different lately," Pete said experimentally.

"How so?"

"Like... you're giving in. Becoming what people think you are." Carson stopped, speechless.

"Nevermind. What do I know?" Pete laughed nervously.

"You think, I'm not, what people think...?" The question sounded as disassociated as Carson felt but Pete still understood him.

"I think you could be dangerous, if you wanted to be. But you're not so different from every other student here trying to get through the day. Don't prove them right."

Carson laughed and stumbled a bit, catching himself at the last moment. Pete didn't miss the slip. There was judgment in his gaze, and something else, pity. Carson almost felt bad for being stoned right now. "Shouldn't class be over by now? We've been walking for forever." Carson whined.

"It's been 3 minutes," Pete corrected.

"Right, sure."

Pete had the decency to look forward while still slowing his pace to match Carson's. He wasn't watching when the spots took over Carson's vision again. The floor rocked beneath him, threatening to send him stumbling into the wall. What's wrong with me? Carson questioned himself. Maybe it was the complete lack of sleep and fuel normally used to propel a person. In any case, the carpet was looking real cozy right about now. The plaid pattern was so inviting as if to say Go ahead, sleep. You could just lie down right here, right now.

"Hey, wait a second. I wanna take a nap," Carson spoke up.

Pete spun around to dispute an impromptu nap when they were mere yards from the classroom but Carson had already resigned to the weight dragging him down. His eyes fluttered closed as the world tilted on its side. He collided with the carpet in a way that should have hurt but all he felt was warmth and oblivion. Why bother  anymore…

---

Carson woke up in an ambulance. Not the floor where he'd fallen asleep, not the nurse's office at the school, but an ambulance speeding down the highway. Either he'd slept through the initial evaluation from the nurse or they had thought it was that urgent enough to warrant a trip straight to the hospital. It was impossible to guess how long he had been out. Carson hadn't even considered that things might get this bad. He just needed some sleep, right?

A paramedic fussing with some tubes noticed his eyes open and put a hand down on his shoulder in case he tried to sit up. "Just lay down and relax. We're almost to the hospital." He said with a light squeeze on his shoulder before lifting his hand away and going back to what he was doing.

"Wha's that?" Carson slurred.

"We're just starting you on an IV, you're very dehydrated. The doctor will be able to tell you more."

"Did anyone call my mom?"

"Yes, the school is required to. I'm sure she'll meet us there as soon as she can." He said reassuringly.

They settled back into silence, leaving only the sound of tires skidding across bumps on the freeway. The siren wasn't on, it wasn't serious enough to warrant it. Carson was left to stare up at the metal roof of the ambulance wondering just how the hell he had gotten here. It added up. The lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of water, and the lack of will to obtain any of those things for himself. No doubt his mom would lose her shit and start watching him like a hawk at home. She'd probably offer to make his favorite foods and tuck him in at night just to make sure he actually ate and slept. She'd offer to help him with his homework then stealthily have him explain it all to her, completing the assignment without even realizing it.

"We're here. There will be a little bump as we guide out the stretcher," the paramedic said. His partner who had been driving came around the back to help and as promised there was a harsh bump when the wheels hit the ground, "there we go."

A nurse met them at the door and reviewed all the information they had while directing the paramedics to transfer him to ER bay 3. The whole thing was surprisingly boring, not at all like they showed on tv. It was embarrassing too. Something about laying down while everyone else is standing.. or the fact that most of this was overkill.

"Okay, Carson Hall, aged 16, date of birth November 8th, 1992. Your home address is listed as 2447 Farelly St. Is all that information correct?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"And you lost consciousness while at school," she said, reading off a paper.

"Apparently."

"Right, well, staying unconscious for longer than 10 minutes is concerning so I'm going to ask the doctor to order some tests. I'll just check your IV, okay, looks good," she said as she poked at him and double checked that the tubes and drip speed were all correct.

"Are all those tests really necessary?" Carson asked.

"We only need a couple blood samples to run them, it'll take less than a minute of your time." She informed him.

"You know what? I just remembered I don't have health insurance," Carson said, sitting up. She didn't stop him from sitting but she practically swatted his left hand away when he tried to touch the IV site.

"Nice try but you have to stay until a parent or guardian can sign you out. Your condition isn't serious for now so we'll wait for authorization before running tests. I want to be clear with you though that while you're not actively dying, long term neglect of your health can have serious consequences." Said the nurse. There was a slight sweetness to her tone. It wasn't entirely dry and blunt like many ER nurses he's encountered. "For now, feel free to get some sleep. If you need anything you can press that red button there. Any questions?"

"No."

The nurse dragged the curtain around his bed partially closed for some more privacy. While the ER wasn't exactly busy at that time of day she had other patients to tend to. Carson was left to sit on his bed and wait. Luckily he still had his phone in his pocket and the paramedics hadn't felt the need to cut off any of his clothing. He turned it on to find several missed calls and texts from his mom. Carson didn't like talking on the phone but she was most likely driving at the moment so texting might not be the best idea.

"Oh sweetie, how are you?" She said, voice practically dripping with sympathy.

"I'm fine. This really isn't necessary." Carson complained.

"Well the school has strict guidelines for when emergency services need to be called."

"I was just sleeping." He insisted.

"People who are just sleeping can be woken up, honey." He couldn't argue with that. "I'm almost there, see you in a few minutes." Carson heard some honking and swearing from the other end before she hung up. Probably road raging in her hurry to get to him. His phone slipped out of his hand as he involuntarily dozed off again. When he woke up both his mom and the doctor were standing over him.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"The doctor is explaining your test results," his mom said quickly, giving his hand a squeeze. He didn't even notice she was holding it until then.

"Don't you need to take blood samples or something?"

"Already did. The hard part is over. Would you like me to start over with your results?" The doctor asked. Since he was 16 they had some obligation to speak directly to him as the patient.

"Nah. It doesn't matter," Carson dismissed him.

"Actually it does matter. And I suspect you know that," the doctor challenged.

"Just get on with it so I can go home. I can go home right?"

"Yes, your mom can discharge you as soon as we establish a treatment plan." The doctor said calmly.

"A treatment plan for what?" Carson snapped.

The doctor took a deep breath as if what she was about to explain could take a while. "Well we're fairly certain your episode at school was caused by severe lack of sleep as well as severe dehydration. The problem goes beyond that though. You're also showing early signs of malnourishment. The blood test shows several vitamin deficiencies and anemia. The drug test..." Carson's eyes went wide, they did a drug test too?? "...came back positive for marijuana, nicotine, alcohol, and prescription sedatives such as Xanax, Valium, Klonopin, or Ativan."

"Klonopin," Carson stated, answering the unasked question. He didn't bother to dispute any of the other substances. It was all true after all. The doctor made a note on his chart.

"The levels are fairly low so we don't believe you have a drug problem. I'm leaning toward mental illness. Depression or anxiety. It's common for symptoms to start appearing in the late teens. Does any of that sound right to you, Carson?"

Carson laid on his side and crossed his arms so he didn't have to look at the doctor who didn't seem at all surprised by his uncooperative response. When he didn't answer his mom spoke  for him, "Depression, undiagnosed." Having it all out in the open now Carson felt the sudden urge to run far, far away. He could do it. No one would be able to stop him.

"I can write a prescription for antidepressants. We'd start at a low dose and see how he responds. I suggest finding a psychiatrist who can give more specialized care."

"I don't want antidepressants," Carson mumbled into his pillow.

"Are you sure you don't want medication? It is far more effective at treating depression than self-medicating which can make the problem worse."

None of this was news for him. He knew he was depressed, he also knew he wasn't handling it well on his own. "I don't want to be sedated."

"And here I thought you had a preference for sedatives," she told him, referring to the Klonopin.

"Fuck off," Carson bit, finally snapping under the tension of this entire situation. Lying helplessly on a hospital bed while his mom made sad puppy eyes at him and the doctor listed off all his flaws in medical terminology. It felt like his worst nightmare. There was a combination of fear, guilt, and bitter sadness.

"Carson!" His mom scolded, "do not talk to the doctor like that."

"It's okay. It's normal to be upset." She assured her. To Carson though the statement felt patronizing. You'd think it would feel good to have your problems be waved off as "normal" but it doesn't.

"I'll take him to see a psychiatrist for the depression and work on healthier behaviors at home." His mom said.

The doctor nodded, "Sounds like a plan. If you do find that you need more help you can always come back here or see your GP. I highly recommend getting a daily multivitamin and iron supplement at your local pharmacy. Being a nurse I'm sure you're more than qualified to monitor his eating and sleeping habits at home. If you don't have any more questions you can head on over to the front desk to sign the discharge papers."

"Okay."

"Have a nice rest of your day Mrs. Hall," the doctor said, shaking hands with his mother before leaving. Carson was still pointedly ignoring her so she just gave him a closed mouth smile without a handshake. With the doctor gone his mom's attention turned entirely to him.

"Oh, my poor baby, why didn't tell me you were struggling so much?" She asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't want to."

"Why? You know you can talk to me."

"Because this is worse. The doctors and medications and all that. I'd rather just be at home." He whined.

"Well sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. I'll go fill out those forms then we can go straight home. Unless you want to pick up some food on the way?"

"Coffee," he mumbled.

"No more coffee for you. You need sleep."

"Mommmm," Carson whined.

"No. You know I'm right." She said.

---

As soon as they got in the car Carson put his earbuds in to listen to some music. His mom hated when he did that, especially when she wanted to talk to him. Figuring he had already been through enough that day she let it slide this time. At each red light she glanced over at him, taking note of the way his giant black hoodie hung on his bony shoulders. All the signs were there, today was just the tipping point. Deep down she blamed herself like it was somehow her fault he ended up with magic. She wanted her son to have friends, socialize, and have fun. But he was so completely isolated, closed off from the world on both his end and theirs.

Once they got home she made sure he went to sleep on the couch before ducking out to go to the pharmacy. Carson napped for maybe five minutes before a spark of anxiety woke him up again. He didn't want to sleep and eat proper meals, take vitamins and see a therapist. He wanted to see how far he could go like this. He wanted his suffering to be so loud he couldn't think anymore. He had a number of ways to stop thinking.

Carson didn't hesitate to go out on the back porch and fish the plastic bag out of the bushes next to the deck where he hid his weed. He had maybe 20 minutes before his mom got back, plenty of time to get stoned and go up to his room. Everything felt right with the world while he held the joint between his fingers breathing it in every time he felt the need. A haze settled over the backyard and suddenly the breeze blowing through the tall maple tree was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It was like the whole incident at the hospital never even happened. He wondered what it would be like to go to school tomorrow. Maybe it was just Pete who saw him pass out. Carson sure hoped he was the only one in the hallway. Truthfully he didn't remember it too clearly.

Carson sort of lost track of time and had to hide his stuff quickly then run upstairs at the sound of the car in the driveway. His mom would easily smell the lingering scent of weed in the air but at least he had done it outside. Mere seconds after he jumped into bed he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Carson, we still have a lot to talk about." She called out. There was no lock on his door, it had originally been a closet so why would there be? Instead he sent just a hint of magic into the wards drawn onto his door that would keep anyone from entering. She turned the knob uselessly. "Carson, unlock this door." She demanded.

"No."

"I'm serious. It's not cool to use your magic against me like that."

"Go away."

"Not until you open the door."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would I open the door to make you go away? That's counterproductive." He argued.

She sighed. If he was arguing, he was probably fine, she reasoned. "Fine. I'll give you some more time but we will talk about this. Don't forget about your homework." Carson pulled the covers over his head. He didn't really know what to do. He didn't want to change. His mom was going to plan everything out for him, force him to be healthy. The school might even insist on having a meeting with both of them.

All at once the walls of his room started to cave in on him. The tiny space just large enough for a twin bed felt even tinier. It was suffocating. He hastily pushed open his window and took in a desperate breath of fresh air. He needed to get out. He needed to run. And so he did. Carson used magic to orchestrate the escape from popping out the window screen to jumping off the roof onto the driveway. His mom would just have to forgive him.

[lightanddarklove]

SU: Future - The Best Mother and Doctor I can be Ch 3

This chapter's the longest single part of something I've written in years, possibly ever. I’m working on the final part this week. I hope this long chapter makes up for the wait. Also, this part is probably as sad as it gets, but I do deliver some on the comfort part of this hurt/comfort.

Warnings specific for this chapter: more disassociation, trichotillomania (hair pulling), self-harm mention, skin picking mention, minor having alcohol mention, other alcohol mention, general drug mention, and talking around eating disorders but nothing concrete. Also a couple of mentions of sex and porn as concepts, no specifics discussed. Lastly, Kevin is discussed, so there's some discomfort around the disrespect he gave to Stevonnie and their autonomy in Alone Together. If there's something I forgot to tag, please me know.

Chapter 1 here | Chapter 2 here

Dr. Maheswaran and Steven discuss Fragments, Together Forever and then a few moments from SU from seasons 1-5, including Alone Together and the Wanted Arc, focusing in on Lars' Head. Afterward, Dr. Maheswaran speaks with Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl about Rose and the changes in Steven's behavior.

After making notes regarding Steven’s dissociation, Dr. Maheswaran heard footsteps slowly trudging up the stairs, signaling his return. She turned to face him as he reached the top of the steps.

“Did you want me to wait before we continue?” She asked.

“I can keep going.” Steven answered, sitting back down on the bed. He sat on top of the covers, about a third of the way back, knees bent, legs crossed at the ankles at the foot of the bed. His eyes were tired, but he was sitting up more than before, hands resting in his lap and was meeting her gaze again. He no longer looked guarded, his smile was still missing, but he wasn’t frowning either.

“Alright. I wanted to ask you about the few days between the car accident and your meltdown.” His expression sank from neutral to dejected. “I understand there was a confrontation between you and the gems regarding the accident.”

“I should have seen this coming,” he replied glumly. The doctor looked to him to continue. He sighed and said, “I was feeling defensive because they called the pink mode an outburst. I was still dealing with the swelling and their point in the argument seemed more about making sure dad or someone else didn’t get hurt. Which I was worried about, but I was trying to deal with it. I went to step away, because it was happening again, and if they were right, I didn’t want them to be caught up in it. They didn’t want me to leave, I felt pressured, and I shouted at them to ‘leave me alone’ which shook the house and cracked the windows. After that, time felt like it was slowing down.” Dr. Maheswaran’s brows shot up. “That had happened before when I turned pink, it’s a short term super speed burst. So when I saw what I had done and that they were all still trying to keep me there, I took off. I ran a few miles before time went back to normal, and I went to go hide out in the woods. I thought it was the last place anyone would look for me.”

“Steven, why were you afraid of being found?”

“I was afraid of hurting someone. I didn’t want to be around the people I loved because I thought I was dangerous. I wanted to alone, but a part of me didn’t want that, because I was hoping to get help controlling myself.”

“That’s why you went to see Jasper?” Dr. Maheswaran asked gently. Steven fidgeted and looked away.

“I was hoping she could train me. It was a mistake.” He stopped, apprehension written on his face.

“I understand you were gone for three days. Did you get enough to eat while in the wilderness? And did you sleep at all?”

“I broke my vegetarian streak, I cooked a few fish for protein. There wasn’t a lot of edible vegetation where I was and I didn’t bring my phone to look up what was safe to eat. I was sleeping on the ground, but I did get some sleep, at least.”

“Have you been sleeping better since? Any nightmares?” Steven shivered slightly, and Dr. Maheswaran frowned.

“I slept more last night, but I woke up twice in the night. I don’t wanna talk about my nightmares.”

“If you don’t want to discuss the contents of your nightmares, that’s alright. Would you say that you get them more than once a week?” Steven pulled his knees closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around them again before nodding. “Would you say hey happen on more days during the week than not?” He nodded again. “That’s a cause for concern. I understand not wanting to talk about this right now; we’ve been dealing with difficult subjects here, but you should be talking with someone about it if they’re happening with this high a frequency. Has this been happening for several weeks? Months or longer?”

“They’ve been happening more often in the past month or so, but they used to be not as much of a problem. I’ve had them basically since my powers started getting stronger before the diamonds showed up.”

“If it’s been that long, you would be helping your recovery to talk with someone about it.”

“Connie’s helped me sometimes in the past, but we’ve both been so busy lately I didn’t want to bother her with it.” Dr. Maheswaran let out a quiet huff and Steven looked back at her.

“Why not ask the gems or your father?”

“Dad wouldn’t have understood the gem power stuff and I didn’t want the gems to think I couldn’t handle some dreams that weren’t actually important. Anytime I thought it had to do with a mission we were working on I brought it up, but there were plenty of times I knew it was a memory or my head just playing out ‘what if’ fears. I didn’t want to give them a reason to stop me from helping, especially when I was getting a handle on my powers.”

“Right now we want you to focus your goals on helping yourself. You’ve been under a lot of strain, and your support network is ready to help. All you have to do is reach out.”

“Why…” Steven said trailing off. Dr. Maheswaran waited, looking at Steven with concern. “Why are you doing all this?” He finished, avoiding her eyes.

“Steven, you’re my patient. Even if I don’t have the expertise necessary to give you a full diagnosis it’s my job to get you the help you need-“

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” He interjected, voice thick with emotion.

“Why would I be angry at you?” She asked, her tone surprised.

“For proposing to Connie!” He bit back, eyes shut and tears finally spilling out. Dr. Maheswaran stood, shoving Steven’s chart into the chair and moved to approach him.

“Steven, I-“ her words were cut off by a thundering roar from outside. She turned to see Lion canter from a portal to a stop in front of the door. He let out a deep whine, looking at Steven with what seemed to be understanding. Steven’s tears didn’t slow, but he blinked them away enough to see the big cat at the door.

“C-C- Can you-” Steven stuttered through his sobs, “l-let him-m in?” She nodded and went to the sliding door, stepping aside to let Lion rush forward. The big cat shoved his head in between Steven’s neck and chest and his hands caressed through the pale pink mane. “L-Lion…” he said through a sniffle. The teenager stretched his legs out and Lion pushed his big face into Steven’s chest, stepping onto the bed and curling into the spot Connie was sitting in earlier, save for his hind legs spilling over the bed’s edge onto the floor. Dr. Maheswaran quietly walked back to the chair in front of the pair. She picked up the paperwork and sat, looking on at Steven worriedly as his pet let out comforting huffs and nuzzled into the young man.

Steven’s tears slowed as he stroked Lion’s mane. After a moment, Steven scrubbed at his face and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “S-sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t- you shouldn’t have to have sat through that.” Lion bumped Steven lightly with his head again.

“You needing to get your feelings out is something that you are working on,” she replied. “It’s not something you need to apologize for, Steven. It will take some time to get used to being more open about vulnerable topics, but I didn’t notice any swelling, or turning pink, so that seems like progress.” Steven sniffed.

“I… it wasn’t fair to Connie asking her to marry me and live as Stevonnie. I told her that today, but I don’t know if she told you.”

“She hadn’t. And you’re right, that wasn’t fair.” Dr. Maheswaran replied and Steven ducked his head, hiding in Lion’s mane. “However, I understand you were not in the best mindset when you made that decision. So as long as she isn’t looking to change her answer to getting married now, I have no intention of holding it against you.” He glanced back up at her, blush fading from his face.

“You aren’t mad? At all?”

“Steven, I believe I understand why you wanted to escape the emotions you were struggling with by throwing yourself into the deep end of a relationship. Despite how misguided it was, it was a way of trying to reach out. It’s not uncommon, and although it certainly wasn’t the best way to cope, I assure you there are worse methods to seeking attention when struggling with your feelings.” Dr. Maheswaran paused. “If you don’t want to answer this, I understand, but did Connie have anything to add when you spoke with her about the proposal today?” He took a deep breath and fidgeted slightly.

“She said it would be something we should talk about later. Next week maybe. She doesn’t want to make things more difficult.” He paused. “I was glad to hear that she still considers me her best friend, even after all this.” Dr. Maheswaran quietly sighed with a relieved smile on her face.

“I wouldn’t have doubted it for a moment. She and I almost had an argument over her staying over, but because her and your father both assuring me it would be best if she spent the night, I conceded. She doesn’t argue with me over spending time with her other friends. I can’t let her stay over again, she needs to go to school tomorrow, but I honestly don’t think I could stop her coming after class if I tried. She values your friendship very much.” Steven managed a weak smile.

“Thank you for letting her stay... And I don’t want to hold her back from her classes. I know how important they are to her.” He shifted timidly. “She never wants to do anything halfway: her sword training, classes, friendship… She makes it clear what matters to her, and maybe I just wasn’t paying enough attention before that I made it on that list.”

“Schedule conflicts were the primary reason the two of you weren’t seeing much of each other. Your value is not tied only to how much time you can put into spending together. I hope that you two being together today makes that clear.” Steven nodded, looking down at Lion, who licked the teenager’s cheek. Steven stroked the big cat’s mane. “Now, I have a few more questions regarding your time away from home.” His smile slipped from his face, expression becoming neutral. He nodded. “During your training with Jasper, were you hurt at all?” Guilt colored his face.

“Yeah. I wasn’t being careful.”

“Where exactly were you hurt?”

“When we started training, I punched a tree and that hurt my hand. My right hand.”

“Bare-handed?” Dr. Maheswaran exclaimed.

“I usually bubble my fists to avoid that but… Jasper was talking to me about channeling my powers and I was trying to impress because I wanted her help. It was stupid.” Dr. Maheswaran gave a quiet sigh.

“Has it been hurting since then?” She asked. He shook his head. “I’ll want to examine it to ensure nothing’s misaligned. But, was there anywhere else you were hurt in that time?” Steven chewed his lip before answering.

“Well, when we started training, she kicked me-” he rested his hand above his gem on his abdomen “–here and I hit the ground kinda hard.” Dr. Maheswaran’s brows drew up in alarm. “She also head-butted me.” He paused, curling his hands back through Lion’s mane. “And when we really got into fighting a-at the end she did it again, with her helmet.”

“Her gem weapon? She used it on you?” The doctor asked fearfully.

“Y-yeah, she said ‘I’m not gonna coddle you,’ and she meant it. I got knocked into some rubble and-“ his hand went to his left side along his ribs “when I hit the ground it felt like a sharp pinch in this area.”

“It’s possible you broke a few ribs when you landed. Did you have any trouble breathing after that?” He nodded.

“It wasn’t for long, but yeah, I was coughing a bit and it hurt for maybe about 15 or 20 seconds?”

Dr. Maheswaran swallowed. “I’m sorry that that happened to you, Steven. I’m going to want to examine those areas, and we should get you in for additional X-ray and MRI this week. If there’s any lasting damage, it’s better that we know about it sooner rather than later.”

“I have to go back to the hospital?” he asked nervously, meeting her eyes again, but his shoulders drew up to his ears. She took a deep breath before replying.

“I’ve been speaking to your father and the gems about getting you into seeing a trauma specialist. It’s at a different facility than where you were seen last time. Based on what your family told me, they think you would prefer to not have to stay overnight, which would mean that my hospital’s location would not be the best choice. Was their assumption correct?” He nodded rapidly. “The next closest location that offers outpatient care for an acute case such as this is the East Shore Trauma Center. It’s about an hour away. I’m in contact with one of the doctors there and I think it’s best if you go in tomorrow. I’m going to be sending over this paperwork tonight so you don’t have as much to fill out. They’ll ask you some questions and run a few tests. Between this discussion we’re having now and your first appointment, whether tomorrow or in the next few days, we should be able to give you a diagnosis and have you set up with a treatment plan. They will assess your needs and may suggest staying a night or two, but I will state on your chart that you prefer not to be away from home. Getting treatment there will help you prevent future adverse events like the meltdown and give you coping skills to move forward in a healthier way. It will take time, but you can get to a place where you are happier with yourself.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Steven replied softly. “I thought that... Connie had said talking with you would help, but this is a lot. I don’t know if anyone will really understand- I’m a gem, and gems don’t have doctors for this kind of stuff so how can they really help me?”

“There are many things we discussed today that doctors help people your age with. Trouble sleeping, dissociation, stress, feeling unsure about your future or relationships are struggles my patients have had. I gave them advice and helped get them on a path to tackling these problems.” She reached a hand out onto his shoulder and he relaxed it. “That’s what I want for you too. I know this can feel intimidating but you have a support system to lean on when it gets hard. You’ve been through a lot, and you deserve to get the care you need.”

“So, what do I have to do?” He replied anxiously.

“If after I leave, you feel like you’re struggling with your feelings or memories, reach out to anyone around you. They all want to help.” He tentatively nodded. “Make sure you have some dinner tonight, considering you hadn’t had proper meals for a few days. As for tomorrow, your father will be driving you to ESTC as long as you feel well enough to do so. I don’t recommend you driving, considering you’ve had head injuries that could be serious, for at least a week.” He opened his mouth as if to protest but she continued. “If you have any sort of adverse effects from the injuries, it’s best that you’re not behind the wheel. It would be irresponsible to let you drive.” Steven closed his mouth and ducked his head again. “For your safety and the safety of others, Greg will take you. I also suggest keeping screen time to a minimum for a few days, especially if you find yourself getting headaches from them. If you keep the brightness down on your phone and laptop, well as keeping screen sessions to a maximum of half an hour, it shouldn’t cause you further strain. After going to ESTC, keep your activity light. There’s no pressure to overdo it.”

“Wow. You really think that this will help?”

“I know it will take time, but healing from trauma is possible. You just need to take a few steps in the right direction.” She released his shoulder.

“I- uh, I’m glad you’re helping with this. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Steven.” Dr. Maheswaran said. She set his chart down on the floor beneath her chair. “I’d like to examine those injury sites now, if you don’t mind.” He nodded. “That means Lion will need to move over.”

“Oh, right.” Steven replied, shifting and keeping one hand to Lion’s head as he moved to prevent the big cat from following him to the edge of the bed. Lion let out a quiet grumble and curled himself into a ball at the foot of the bed closest to the door. He kept his gaze on Dr. Maheswaran, making her uneasy. Despite the fact that the big cat had slept inside her house when Steven had given himself to Homeworld years ago, the look on his face depicted a silent warning regarding the doctor’s standing in regards to Steven.

“Let me see your right hand first.” Dr. Maheswaran instructed, and Steven extended his arm, palm face down. She gently held it in her outstretched hand, examining the back first before manipulating his wrist to have him turn his hand over. “Nothing appears bruised, swollen or dislodged,” she noted quietly. Steven simply watched and moved his hand along with her inspection. “Curl your fingers for me.” He did as instructed. “Any pain or resistance when you move?” He shook his head. “Can you touch each finger to your palm?” He did, and nothing stuck you to her as being out of the ordinary with the alignment of his hand. “I don’t see anything wrong. Your miraculous recovery streak seems to continue.” She released his hand and he set it in his lap. She grabbed her bag from beside her and pulled out her stethoscope. “I’d like to make sure that fall you had that may have caused damage to your ribs didn’t affect your lung function. Can you roll up your shirt?” He grabbed the hem of the shirt, but hesitated.

“Before I do,” he replied quietly, “I wanted to warn you. When I had my meltdown, turning into the… you know… it left marks on my back. They look like big scabs, but they’re not from falling or landing badly. It’s from the corruption.” He paused and she eyed him worriedly. “The other uncorrupted gems have it too, but mostly they’re in the form of spots or horns. Mine look like four-pointed stars or irregular diamonds.”

“Are they causing you any pain?”

“They’re not sorer than the rest of me,” he answered. She nodded and Steven rolled up his shirt as she put the stethoscope on. Dr. Maheswaran observed him and warmed the end of the tool with her palm before gently resting it on the area of his ribs where he gestured the injury had been.

“Just breathe normally for a moment.” She moved the instrument along his chest and side before switching sides to compare the sound of his breathing. Glancing to his back, the corruption marks were noticeably pink, but didn’t look like raw wounds as she had expected, more like injuries that had been healing for a week or more. He had described them as diamond-shaped, but they resembled more of an X or cross shape from her perspective. She moved the end of the tool back to the injury site. “Now take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds.” He inhaled quietly through his nose and held it. “Let your breath out slowly,” she instructed. He complied, letting the exhale out through his mouth. “I shouldn’t be so surprised you have excellent breath control, given how much you sing.” She joked with a slight smirk. Steven managed a lopsided smile. Her expression faltered slightly. “Give me anther few deep breaths, okay?” He did as she asked, and her thoughts swirled as she listened.

I would have thought I could get a chuckle out of him, or even a little quip in reply. She thought. His distress from all of this is causing him to act significantly subdued; it’s worrying. I’ve never seen him act so unlike himself. All I can hope is that he’s not concealing his issues, and this isn’t just another mask to hide how he’s feeling.

“I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary in your lungs.” She said. He tugged his shirt down as she leaned back in her chair, pulling the stethoscope away. “Still, I’ll recommend you for an X-ray to be certain everything healed correctly. Now I have one more question regarding your time with Jasper.” She hesitated, seeing him tense. “I understand if you don’t feel comfortable answering right now, but this will have to be addressed eventually. When the two of you fought, before you came home, I understand she was-” his jaw clenched and began to tremble, so she held a moment before continuing. “Critically injured. Was what happened-“

“Don’t. Don’t say it.” He said softly, voice shaky.

“Was that your intention?” she concluded, trying her best to avoid the word he probably didn’t want to hear. His eyes were unfocused on a point over her shoulder. His hands shuddered in his lap curling into his sweatpants. She regarded him gingerly as she waited for his answer.

“No, I thought we were-” he answered, tone quick and quiet, punctuated by hiccupping breaths. His cheeks were flushed, but it was a coral pink, not the bright neon pink she had seen at the hospital. Her face fell. “We just- She told me, not to hold back and I never-“ Lion was swiftly pressing into his side. Steven’s hands went up, and Lion pushed his mane to the closer hand. “I- I didn’t think I could do that-“ His other hand fisted in his curls and gave a tug. She reached out for it and he flinched.

“Steven, you aren’t still there. You are safe here.” She moved her hand closer but didn’t touch him. “Can you still hear me okay or does it sound like I’m far away or muffled again?”

“M- muffled,” he faltered. Lion pushed his head to Steven’s neck and the teen let out a low sob.

“Can you set your feet on the ground and take a few deep breaths for me?”

Unsteadily, Steven stretched his legs over the edge of the bed and set them on the floor. His eyes were still unfocused and his breathing was still fast and a bit shallow, but it was a start. Gently, Dr. Maheswaran reached for Steven’s wrist and found his skin running hot. She slid her hand from wrist to palm until she touched his fingers, carefully untangling them from his hair as his breaths calmed slightly. Once his hand was away from his scalp, she guided it into Lion’s mane, noting his pulse coming in fast, but it was gradually slowing. “If you can hear me alright, describe how Lion’s mane feels.”

“Fluffy. Warm.” Steven answered, pausing slightly between each descriptor. His hands reached further down approaching the large cat’s shoulders. “Solid. Soft. Straight. Not knotted, or curly.” He blinked a few tears from his eyes, and the far off look faded as he breathed more deeply. His eyes flicked to Lion’ face and the pink beast licked at his chin with a gentle grunt. “Comforting. Like a blanket.”

“Do you still feel like sound around you is muffled?” Dr. Maheswaran asked. Steven shook his head. Lion gave a sound that resembled a sigh and rested his head on Steven’s lap. Steven continued carding his hands through Lion’s fur as he slowly calmed himself. “Steven, what I instructed you to do just a moment ago is a grounding exercise. When struggling to experience the moment, grounding exercises help to keep a focus on reality. From what I observed, you looked like you were dissociating.” Steven looked up at her, but kept petting Lion’s mane. “If you find yourself caught in a memory, feeling disconnected from the present or like things aren’t real, focusing on things you can feel, taste or smell are helpful tactics to ground you.” She paused. “If there’s strong flavored gum or mints you like, keeping them in reach can be very beneficial. A nice smelling hand cream or body spray would also work.”

“I definitely have some skincare products downstairs that might work.” He replied, voice rough. “I uh- didn’t turn pink, did I? During that?”

“No pink,” she confirmed.

“No pink,” he repeated before looking back at Lion. “I’m sor-“

“There’s no need to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

“I freaked out a little.” He stopped. “Did I- did I answer your question from before? I don’t feel like I did.”

“It’s okay.” She replied. “What I’ll ask is a yes or no question, and if you feel like you’re having trouble getting the words out, focus on Lion and just nod or shake your head.” He took a deep breath before nodding. “Was what happened to Jasper an accident?”

“… Yeah.” He answered quietly.

“Okay. You don’t have to say anything else about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“That’s alright.” She said, smiling amiably. “Do you feel like you can answer questions about other things? Or did you want to stop for now?”

“Lion’s helping.” He said softly, looking back to the big cat, who gave a gentle head-butt to Steven’s chest. “I can answer some more.”

“When you were dissociating, I noticed you were gripping your hair.”

“Oh.”

“Is that something you do often?”

“N- no. The last time, I was dreaming, and I had a horrible headache before I did that. I think… I was trying to distract myself… from the headache.” Dr. Maheswaran shifted in her seat as she looked at him. “I don’t feel like talking about the nightmare.”

“How recent was this?”

“Maybe a week before the hospital visit? I think...?” He replied, trailing off.

“There wasn’t any more recent incidents of this? Before the meltdown?” Steven’s eyes went wide and his head snapped up.

“I forgot. I did that, right before I became…” He trailed off, looking down. “And when Jasper and I fought,” his voice quickened, “right after I saw what I did, I was so freaked out-“

“Deep breaths, Steven.” Dr. Maheswaran interrupted. He stopped, giving a few gulps of air.

“I- I- it wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I felt sick to my stomach and then I was on the ground with my hands in my hair…” He paused. “I can’t think about that anymore, I’m sorry.”

“You needing to set your boundaries is not something you need to apologize for.” She replied. “You are allowed to tell me, your other doctors, your father, the gems or your friends you don’t feel comfortable talking about something at any time. Some of these things will need to be addressed eventually in order to get treatment for them, but if it causes you discomfort, you can tell them you need to move to a different topic.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding.

“I’d like to ask you a general question about the hair pulling, if that’s alright.” Steven nodded again. “Would you say it’s a reflexive behavior, one you don’t think about doing before you find yourself doing it?”

“… Yeah.”

“Do you find that you pull hair out when you do this or is it more of an urge to feel that sensation?”

“The second thing.” He paused. “I’ve never really pulled enough to have clumps of hair come out.”

“That’s good to know, thank you.” Dr. Maheswaran pulled Steven’s chart from the floor and set it in your lap before continuing. ”Do find yourself doing other reflexive behaviors to distract yourself, like scratching yourself or picking at imperfections on your skin?” Steven hesitated for a moment, curling his fingers through Lion’s mane.

“…No.”

“Have you ever knowingly and intentionally hurt yourself?”

“No.” Dr. Maheswaran watched his face carefully. He wasn’t showing any tells, but she wasn’t sure he was being honest.

Now is not the time to push him. She thought. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

“Do you drink alcohol or smoke at all?” He looked baffled at the question.

“No smoking, and I had a sip of champagne at the New Year’s party this year, but you and my dad said it was okay…” he trailed off.

“Doug told me you weren’t a fan.” She remarked dryly. He shook his head, his face on the edge of disgust. “Anything more than just a sip with your father’s permission?” Steven chewed his lip.

“Will I be in trouble?”

“No, I will want to know who gave it to you, so I can make sure they won’t do it again during your treatment. Alcohol can be dangerous for young people, especially if you are trying to better moderate your emotions. It also can stunt brain growth if you have too much before you fully mature.” He hesitated a moment more before blurting out his answer in a single breath.

“Sadie gave me half of a Rum and Coke with dad’s permission at a Suspects concert.”

“How long ago was this?”

“I was 15, I had my growth spurt about a month before that. Dad kept an eye on my after that but I didn’t really notice any difference.”

“And that was the only time you had more than a sip of alcohol?” He nodded. “No other instances of mixed drinks or Bello Shots?”

“I’m not really interested, to be honest.” He replied with a shrug. She nodded approvingly.

“Now Steven,” she remarked, “I have a worksheet here that goes over some of the things we discussed already, however, there are a few things that could be helpful for your doctors to know if you have experienced to help with your treatment. It shouldn’t take too long, but if you want to stop, I’ll fill out what I can and the doctors at ESTC can go over it with you.”

“Okay, I can try.” He replied, looking up.

“Now, if you don’t want to go into any detail, that’s alright. These questions have one of five answers, so as long as you can tell me one through five, we can move on or stop at any time. The five options are: Happened to me, Witnessed it, Heard about it, Doesn’t Apply, or Not Sure. Are you alright with moving forward with this?” He nodded. “These are all things that can cause trauma, that you have some memory of, whether it’s recent or when you were young. Have you experienced a fire or explosion?”

“Yeah, the green hand ship. I was on it when it crashed, but I had my bubble, so I wasn’t hurt. Oh, but there was also the time I fought an era 1 gem droid that shot fire and lightning at me and got burned. So I guess both happened to me and witnessed it.” She gave a sharp breath.

“How about natural disasters, like earthquakes or flood?”

“Uh,” he said, pausing thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Yeah. When the cluster was first emerging, that caused earthquakes. And when Lapis took the ocean, letting it come back caused a flood. So happened to me, again.”

“Have you ever been sexually assaulted?”

“No, doesn’t apply.” His face remained neutral.

“Have you ever experienced any unwanted sexual advances or similar inappropriate behaviors?” His lips quirked uneasily.

“Yeah, I was at a dance. Not one of Connie’s school dances, it was one of Sour Creams raves. A guy was trying to get us to dance with him.” Dr. Maheswaran’s brows shot up. “He was an older teenager, but we were Stevonnie, so we looked like we fit in there…” Steven clamped a hand over his mouth when he realized what he had just said. Dr. Maheswaran froze. Immediately his tone became more frantic, and he waved his hands out in front of him in an attempt at a placating motion. “I haven’t seen Kevin in years- and- and we both talked to my dad about it. I know you might be mad, and I get it, but she did talk to somebody about it at least, right? It’s not like we have to deal with him anymore. He thought we were just a normal older teen or twenty something, got kind of too close to us, we told him off and unfused… I know it’s my fault that we got put in that situation, if I hadn’t fused with her-“

“Steven, stop.” She instructed firmly. He set his hands back in his lap and nodded. Lion licked his fingers. “How old were you when this happened?” she asked, voice uneasy.

“I was almost 13. Like my birthday was about a week later. Connie was 11. I had no idea fusing could put us into that kind of position. I wanted to go to that rave. I wanted her to understand that it was okay to dance in front of other people…”

“Steven, some older teenager coming up to you because of how you looked is not your fault. I don’t blame you or Connie. I wish I had known about it, but I understand it took you two a long time to be comfortable discussing fusion with Doug and I.” she stopped, noticing he was fidgeting with his hands. “I’m guessing he didn’t immediately leave when you told him you weren’t interested.”

“Yeah. He made us pretty anxious and uncomfortable, even though he didn’t touch us, so we kind of danced at him aggressively and that’s when we unfused. After that, he left us alone. I’ve only seen him twice since then. The last time was at the party Connie and I made up at after I gave myself up to Homeworld. I barely think about him these days.” Lion pushed his head into the young man’s hands, and Steven threaded his fingers through Lion’s mane. “I’d like to move to the next question, please.”

“Okay. Have you ever experienced Combat or Exposure to a warzone?”

“I definitely have a lot of things I heard about the gem war, but the few sort of battles I’ve been in usually only had 2 or 3 enemy gems we were fighting. So I don’t think that qualifies as a warzone.”

“Have you had any life threatening injuries?”

“There’s been lots of times I was scared I was going to get killed or really hurt, but only twice did I get that badly hurt where I felt like it was actually going to happen. The gems came a lot closer to actually dying much more often.” He paused. “They tried to protect me the best they could. Both of those times it happened, I was facing the threat alone.” He hesitated again, shifting on the bed. “Can we move on, please?” Dr. Maheswaran nodded.

“Have you ever witnessed violent acts against others, including death?”

“The gems don’t die the way humans do, but I’ve seen them get poofed and even cracked more times than I’d like to. And Lars… that’s why he’s pink. Did Connie ever tell you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following. What happened to him?”

“It was when I gave myself to Homeworld.” He spoke softly, but the tone was nearly devoid of inflection. “He was still on the ship. After a couple days, we met up and made our escape, but there were these gem droids that were trying to shatter some new friends. He jumped on one of them and hit it with a chunk of rock, but when it exploded he got thrown off.” Dr. Maheswaran held her breath as he continued. “It was floating about 30 feet up and he hit his head. He was dead for less than a minute, I went over to him and I didn’t feel a pulse.” She felt her stomach drop. “I started crying, and I found out I had healing tears when he came back to life. It was only because of me bringing him back that I made it home when I did. His hair started acting like a wormhole so I could travel through Lion’s mane back home. Otherwise it would have been weeks, over a month, actually, before we would have made it back. He didn’t come home until after the school year was over.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?” She asked, voice hushed.

“I had to. I had to explain how I got home and why Lars wasn’t with me. But I skimmed over details on how he died. I tried to give more specifics about the other gems that were helping him, so they wouldn’t worry he wasn’t safe. I mean, neither of us were, really, but it wasn’t going to help to make his family and friends more worried.” He paused, a hand absently moving into his hair, but not pulling, before setting it down onto Lion’s back. ”I never told anyone how awful it was to listen for a heartbeat… and not find one. I felt so guilty- it was my fault he was on the ship in the first place, and I couldn’t convince him to take the escape pod without me when he had the chance to get away-“

“Take the escape pod without you?” Dr. Maheswaran murmured in disbelief. She put a hand to her mouth. “Why? Why would you have wanted that?”

“I told Homeworld I was my mom. If I kept them busy dealing with me, they wouldn’t have been snatching people up to put in the human zoo. I didn’t want my friends to have to suffer for me and mom’s mistakes. So I wanted to go either way, to keep them safe.” Dr. Maheswaran took a deep breath and wrung her hands before speaking.

“Steven, I hope you understand that is an unhealthy mindset to have. You were, 14, right?” He nodded, interlacing his fingers in front of his abdomen. “The gems, and the adults in your life were and still are responsible for your safety. You are not responsible for your friends’ safety. You should not have been put in the position you had to make that decision.”

“Connie was almost taken.” He croaked, voice rising in pitch. “I couldn’t do nothing! I- we wouldn’t have been able to get to her. We didn’t have a working ship and I would never have forgiven myself-“

“But you believe it was better for you to be taken.” She interjected. They looked at each other silently. Dr. Maheswaran’s face was stern. “I understand that your care for your friends’ safety comes from a good place, but to disregard your own well-being so much is incredibly harmful. Not just in the immediate aftermath when it happened, but from what I’m understanding, that feeling of self-sacrifice has warped your ability to form healthy relationships and hold onto a solid sense of self.”

“I was able to come home because of my powers. None of the humans,” he pulled his arms to the side and balled his fists, “who had nothing to do with this conflict, could have made it back the way I did. And my escape was because of a detour to Homeworld itself, and being lucky enough to have a gem lawyer who needed the palanquin to make her case. Connie’s resourceful and smart, but she can’t access gem tech. She’s not built the way I am.”

“She and I spoke when you were taken. She was very upset, not only that she was being left behind, but your lack of resistance to fight off these Homeworld Gems. She believed that together you would have stood a greater chance. I’m not sure which of you was better equipped for the situation, but your gems should have protected you and her. You did not deserve to have to choose whose life had more value!”

“They tried!” Steven bit back, voice cracking. “They were losing, and I didn’t see another way out. I could have made a better call, and I accepted Connie was angry with me when I came back, but at the time, I thought it was the only option. I couldn’t stand the thought of her and my other friends taken away because of what mom did! And that I gave Homeworld the list of humans that I knew back when I didn’t know better. They shouldn’t be punished for that. It was my fault!”

“This should not have been your burden to bear. You were a child.”

“But I was the only one who could fix it. I had to. The Diamonds had a grudge, and I was the only one going to put the pieces together. I fixed my family, and then I fixed Homeworld.”

“At 14, you took on far more responsibility than you should have had to. The harm that was done still affecting you now.” Steven looked away, fists uncurling and arms rested at his sides. “From what I can see, you are carrying a lot of guilt for making decisions that should not have been your obligation. The onus is on your caregivers. You need to understand that these things we’ve been discussing, the adverse events that happened, are not your fault.” She paused, and he swiped a palm across his eye, in an attempt to cover his tears. “That is the first step toward making this better. The second is having an expert guide you through these difficult events so they don’t continue to affect you in the same way. You didn’t deserve to go through these struggles, and you don’t need to face these things alone anymore.” He gave a few shuddering breaths.

“You really think,” he said, voice watery, “after everything I told you, the doctors at that hospital can help me?”

“If they don’t have the answers, they will get you to someone who can help. You’ll have to put in the time, and it may feel overwhelming at first, but you don’t need to justify needing treatment.”

“I think I’m spent, Dr. Maheswaran,” he said through quiet tears. Lion perked up and nuzzled into him again. “I don’t think I’m up for answering anymore questions.” She stood, grabbing the chart in her hand and slipping her bag over her shoulder. She gently rested her other hand on his shoulder.

“I understand. I’ll send your father some resources for more grounding techniques, though I recommend printing them out as limiting screen time is important if you have any concussion symptoms. I have one request, regarding tomorrow.”

“Oh?” he mumbled, looking up.

“Be honest with them.” She advised. He looked slightly taken aback. “If there’s anything you couldn’t tell me, or had to fabricate or omit details regarding your history, correct that if the topic comes up. Don’t allow them to move forward with wrong assumptions.” He gave a slight nod and she smiled at him. “I’ll speak with you soon. We’ll want to get you set up with a new general practitioner at some point in the near future.” She started to walk away when she heard him speak up.

“Why do I need to get somebody else?”

“There are a few questions I’m fairly certain you don’t want me to ask you that are part of a standard physical exam.” He paused for a moment.

“Like what?”

“Like ‘are you sexually active?’”

“What!?” He shouted, face beat red. Lion grumbled in protest of Steven’s yelling, and rolled into him, pushing him down onto the bed with a quiet “oof.”

“Call me if you need medical advice, and don’t forget to set boundaries if you need to,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way downstairs with a smirk.

Dr. Maheswaran got the stairs’ first landing and spotted Connie with a novel with a crow and crown in her hands on the couch. She had one earphone in, covering the ear closest to the stairs, and her phone next to her with a music application on. I bet it’s either low-fi or chill-hop. Dr. Maheswaran thought. I can’t tell the difference between the two.

“I hope you’ve finished your homework,” Dr. Maheswaran said, speaking up to ensure her daughter heard her. Connie’s head snapped up and she pressed the pause on her music. Dr. Maheswaran stopped at the base of the stairs.

“I did everything I can here,” Connie replied, taking out her earphone and putting the chord and her phone in her pocket. “I’m meeting Daniel after dinner to get my worksheet I need for tomorrow. The only other thing I have is an online Latin quiz that’s too janky to do on my phone.” She put her novel into her backpack and met her mother at the stairs. “How did it go?” she asked quietly. Dr. Maheswaran gave a slight smile.

“I think we can get through to him, but it will take time.” Dr. Maheswaran answered. “I’ll need to speak to Greg and the gems one more time before we leave so you’ll have a bit of time to say goodbye.” Connie smiled and stepped past her mother to rush up the stairs. “You better get Lapis, I still don’t want you alone in his room!”

“Mom!” Came Connie’s exasperated sigh from Steven’s bedroom. Dr. Maheswaran heard the glass door open before Connie shouted, “Lapis, you can come back in now.” With the exception of footsteps and faint voices from upstairs, the room was quiet.

Peridot and Bismuth were no longer in the interior of the Beach House. Dr. Maheswaran looked around. All of the groceries that Peridot was sorting through before were put away. Bismuth’s door closure was absent from the kitchen table. The only noticeable evidence that the gems had been inside were the canvas bags folded on the kitchen counter.

Dr. Maheswaran walked to the empty kitchen table and set Steven’s chart on its surface before sitting on the chair. From her seat she could see Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl quietly arguing on the porch. Greg was no longer in view, and the gems were speaking in hushed tones. She only spared them a glace before opening the chart and pulling out the PTSD checklist she had started before. Two more of the five questions she marked as yes: Have you had nightmares about the events or thought about the events when you did not want to, and Felt guilty or unable to stop blaming yourself or others for the events or any problems the events may have caused. Only one question remained unanswered; Have you felt constantly on guard, watchful, or easily startled? Perhaps Greg can ask him and text me so I can send it to Dr. Wilkins. It would prevent any redundancy in needing to fill out extra forms.

She opened to clean page of the chart and made notes about his dissociative episode, the trichotillomania discussion, what he was hesitant to talk about, the signs associated with the Atlas personality, and the potential risk factors she observed. After a few minutes, she was satisfied with her records and reordered the paperwork. She picked up the folder, stood and walked toward the beach house’s entrance, slipping the file into her bag as she went.

As she approached the front porch, the gems didn’t immediately take notice. Garnet’s arms were folded, her lips in a tight frown. Pearl was swiping a tear away from her face and tugging on her jacket sleeve with her other hand. Amethyst was a short distance away from the pair, glaring up at them and spoke in a low, agitated tone.

“I told you. I told you that we weren’t good at this. Yeah, we tried to do some nice things for him sometimes, but that doesn’t change the facts. We didn’t know how bad we fu-“ Amethyst’s eyes widened as she saw the doctor reach the former doorway of the house. “Hey Dr. M. How’s it shakin’?”

“Did you want me to step away for a few minutes while you finish your conversation?” she asked flatly.

“No,” Garnet answered, stepping forward. “You have questions for us and you want to get home for dinner. Our discussion can wait.”

She didn’t ask if I had questions, she just knew. How did she know that? Dr. Maheswaran thought.

“I appreciate you being respectful of my time. This shouldn’t take long.” She replied.

“How is he?” Pearl asked warily. “What else can we do except be there for him?”

“That’s the most of it, right now. There are a few areas of concern that I wish to address but making sure he’s eating enough, sleeping enough, making his appointments and being there to listen when he’s ready to talk is primarily what he needs.” Garnet and Pearl nodded solemnly and Amethyst shifted in place.

“So what can we help you with?” Amethyst asked. “So you can help him?”

“You were his caregivers for about the last 8 or 9 years correct?”

“Yes.” Pearl answered. “He moved in with us a few months before his 8th birthday.”

“Have you noticed any changes in his behavior lately before the proposal? Let’s say in the past few months. Change in sleep habits or diet?”

“He stopped eating breakfast during the time running Little Homeschool,” Amethyst replied. Dr. Maheswaran furrowed her brow.

“He’d been doing a protein shake in the morning.” Pearl interjected. “He said he was saving a lot of time drinking his meal instead. But since he stopped teaching, he went back to a normal breakfast.”

“Define what you mean by a normal breakfast.” Dr. Maheswaran said.

“Eggs and Toast, or Cereal, or Bagels. Usually things that weren’ high in sugar.” Garnet answered. “He was trying to avoid that by the time he had come back from Homeworld and often stuck with it.”

“It’s a good thing that he’s no longer eating liquid meals regularly.” Dr. Maheswaran advised. “Unless he is struggling to keep food down, it should be discouraged for teenagers who are still growing to have meal replacement shakes on a regular basis. That can quickly spiral and become a level of calorie control that borders on or becomes malnutrition.” She paused. “What about his sleep habits?”

“There were definitely some days working at Little Homeschool that he wasn’t getting enough sleep.” Amethyst replied. “But as far as I know he hadn’t mentioned not sleeping great recently to any of us until Peridot said something about it happening a few weeks back.”

“She mentioned it to me as well before I went to speak with him.” Dr. Maheswaran said. “There was nothing recent to indicate he hadn’t been sleeping well before? What about sleeping exceptionally late or being up at odd hours of the night?”

“We weren’t aware of it, even if it was happening,” Garnet answered sullenly.

“When we’re here in the later evenings, we’re often in the temple proper,” Pearl added. “Unless someone is at the temple door we can’t hear much going on in the house.”

“If I’m up for a snack or one of us has a mission or late night meeting,” Amethyst said, “we might notice Steven being up late in the past. He only had a wall put up in his room back after the Diamonds wrecked the place. But if he’s been awake at weird hours lately, he’s been sticking to his room and being quiet.”

Dr. Maheswaran frowned and instructed the Gems firmly. “While his immediate recovery is going on, someone should be in the house whenever he’s home. If he’s having trouble sleeping, you’ll need to make his doctors aware. It’s probably best if you track his meals as well. Having someone around will make him feel supported, and he’ll likely be reassured that he can come to one of you or Greg if he’s struggling with his emotions.” She paused. “His symptoms are for the most part typical for a trauma patient, and they need a lot of care until they are able to use the coping skills mental health providers give him reliably. It will take some time, but you’re going to have to make yourselves available until instructed otherwise.”

“For Steven,” Garnet affirmed, “we are committed to do whatever it takes to help.”

”For Steven,” Pearl and Amethyst chorused.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Dr. Maheswaran replied, her face relieved. “Now I have a few questions regarding his mother’s history for you.” The trio nodded, Pearl straightening and giving a melancholy smile as she did. “Was there anything in your time with her that indicated any sort of gem disease?”

“We don’t get sick, with the exception of the corruption.” Garnet answered. “And she was protected from the Diamond blast by her shield.”

“And Steven’s the only gem that sort of corrupted without being hit with the diamond blast or fusion with a corrupted gem.” Pearl added. “We’re still not sure if it was truly corruption, or simply a malfunction of his shapeshifting abilities. His powers are so unique, and with the corrupted gems all being healed, it’s not like we could have analyzed the composition of a corrupted gem and done a comparison. This was unprecedented.”

“Steven’s middle name shouldn’t be Quartz or Cutie-Pie, it should be unprecedented,” Amethyst said sarcastically.

“Now is not the time for that, Amethyst.” Garnet admonished. She turned to the doctor before speaking again. “Before Era 3, most gems either emerged as they were designed, or came out off-color. That’s the term used by Homeworld for gems that didn’t fit the mold. Cross-gem fusion was considered a defect, as was workin' on things that weren’t a part of your intended purpose.” She paused. “In that respect, all of the Crystal Gems, Rose Quartz included, are off-color. That is the closest thing that could be related to a human illness that gems have, save for corruption.”

“In Era 3, however, flaws are not seen the same way.” Pearl added. “We’ve worked hard to have gems see them as only a piece of themselves, and being able to make your own choices about how to spend their time. ‘Intended purpose’ doesn’t hold much weight anymore as personal choice and working towards collective benefit.”

“But if that collective benefit is harmful to the individual,” Dr. Maheswaran added, “what then?”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Pearl replied.

“She’s talking about Steven,” Garnet answered. Dr. Maheswaran nodded.

“This transitionary period has been very hard on him.” She warned. “The pressure that was placed on him has led us to this point. The responsibilities he had with the Diamonds, Little Homeschool, and everything else has been weighing on him. As he tries to navigate a new normal, he’ll need to have guidance so he isn’t simply trying to take on too much for the sake of others, or he might end up having another harmful meltdown. It will be up to you three and Greg to keep him from taking on too much and preventing self-neglect.” She paused, voice taking on a cold tone. “I do not want to be having this same kind of conversation again.” The gems nodded. “There are potential risk factors here, but if we have enough information, we likely can mitigate them. So, can gems be affected in the same way by certain earth substances that are unhealthy for humans? Like alcohol?”

“You’re asking if we can get drunk? Yeah. We gotta shapeshift a liver and stuff, but we can if we want.” Amethyst replied. “It’s not super potent though. We need more than humans do to feel the difference.”

“It only affects gem bodies, not the gem itself.” Garnet added. “Bismuth enjoyed drinking with humans during the rebellion. The only risk was if we were attacked while inebriated.”

“Did Steven’s mother drink on a regular basis?” The doctor asked.

“Only socially with humans, to my knowledge,” Pearl replied. “Though there were times she was unaccounted for when not with her human companions. I can’t say for certain if all of that alone time was looking for corrupted gems or spending time in the desert with the pride of Lions Lion is from. She kept many secrets, even from us.”

“So there is a possibility she could have had a substance abuse problem.” Dr. Maheswaran commented.

“This is beyond our knowledge,” Garnet replied. “I’m sorry.”

“The reason this is important is because addictive behaviors can be inherited.” Dr. Maheswaran said. “Have you ever seen Steven with alcohol or other things he shouldn’t have?”

“Like what? A bong? Porn? What are we talking about here?” Amethyst asked.

“Any drug paraphernalia, vapes, cigarettes, liquor, or things of that nature.” Dr. Maheswaran answered.

“Steven’s never shown any interest in that kind of unruly behavior,” Pearl remarked, sounding insulted.

“You really think Steven would get into that? Him?” Amethyst said sarcastically.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat this: Traumatized children often turn to dangerous coping mechanisms. If you think there’s any chance he may be hiding an addiction, his doctors need to be informed. Treatment is different for underage addicts than trauma alone. The same can be said for trauma patients who self-harm.” The gems looked each other worriedly before turning back to Dr. Maheswaran. She gave a sigh. “He mentioned a wormhole through Lion’s mane. If there’s a chance that space could be used to store unhealthy substances or things he might be using to hurt himself, that will need to be addressed before treatment starts.”

“I’ve been in Lion’s mane before,” Garnet replied. “The majority of the items in there are mementos from his mother. He previously stored his bike there, but he outgrew that.”

“I recommend one of you can going there just to ensure he isn’t hiding anything dangerous.” Dr. Maheswaran advised.

“It can only be traveled to with his access.” Pearl replied. “He has a connection with Lion that none of us have, so without him we can’t travel there.”

“Encourage him to allow you to go there. You are responsible for his safety and this is a part of that.” The doctor pressed.

“We’ll do the best we can,” Garnet replied.

“If you have trouble convincing him, call me. Hopefully if Connie or I support this, he’ll allow it.” Dr. Maheswaran remarked, nodding. “Now where is Greg? I have some questions for him too.”

“He’s by the van,” Pearl answered.

“If Connie’s ready I’ll tell her to wait in the car,” Garnet added. “I know you don’t want any interruptions.” Dr. Maheswaran nodded and began to walk away.

“We’ll speak again soon,” she replied. “Good luck.”

“Goodbye,” Garnet said, waving. The other gems waved and said their goodbyes as well.

As Dr. Maheswaran walked toward Greg’s van, she overheard from Amethyst just before she was out of earshot, “I could have been drinking with Bis since she’s been out? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

[quirkycombatants]

Noburu’s Personalities

Major Spoilers for his character below, fair warning! 

As stated before, Noburu has Disassociative Identity Disorder as a result of his upbringing. The intense training by his father along with being forced into kill or be killed situations inside the underground fighting pits as a child caused his mind to fracture, as a way to cope. Unable to cope with the intense stress and trauma that was being inflicted on him, his mind developed different personalities in order to deal with the strain. 

We’ll start with the dominant personality, or the ‘original’ personality, which is Noburu himself. Noburu is often ‘blank’ in the sense that he doesn’t seem to feel strong emotions and also doesn’t seem to understand them. He is, simply put, childlike in his way of understanding things; he sees the world in black and white extremes. Either it is good or bad, wrong or right. Things fit into places because they must, because he cannot understand the world outside of it. This is mostly due to the trauma impacting his higher learning ability. Normally, a child learns various ways to understand the world as they age. Noburu, due to the trauma, didn’t develop these ways. 

It’s not that he isn’t intelligent, he simply hasn’t developed the ability to handle stress or the skills required to interpret many things that he encounters. As a result, he tends to put them into the categories he understands. This is why he often seems confused by things, but also seems to be unable to relate to people’s emotions and feelings. 

One of the major characteristics of Noburu is that he doesn’t like to hurt people, and he doesn’t like killing people. In fact, he sees himself as a ‘failure’ due to his inability to do this, entirely unaware that he has in fact, killed people before. We’ll get more into that with his other two personalities, but Noburu is unaware of them, so as far as Noburu knows, he hasn’t killed anyone.

He defines himself by the ‘failure’ to be his ‘brother’ who in his mind is everything that Noburu isn’t. Noburu is ‘weak’ whereas his brother is ‘strong.’ Noburu is a ‘failure’ whereas his brother is the ‘heir’ his father wanted. He believes that his father and brother are out there, and that one day they will return to kill him. Why? Because obviously he is the mistake who needs to be destroyed. 

As covered before, his brother doesn’t exist, and his father is dead. But we’ll get to that. For now, it’s enough to state that Noburu believes that this is true.

As stated, the thing that caused Noburu’s mind to break was the intense training and trauma that was caused by his father. Part of it was intentional; his father, upon realizing that Noburu had a second personality, began to cultivate it in order to use it, but also control it. We’ll get into that when we talk more about it, specifically, but for now keep it in your mind that the secondary personality was dangerous enough to require controlling.

To do this, he made it so that the secondary personality would only come out during certain times. Thus, Noburu was conditioned by his father so that his secondary personality would only come out if Noburu was in the arena, if his life was in danger, or if he was protecting something that he couldn’t live without. This, in theory, would keep it under control, for his father thought that he was counted in that last category. 

We can thus call this personality the ‘father’ personality. You might also call it a ‘berserk’ state, or a ‘savage’ state. It has limited mental abilities, because it is the amalgamation of all of Noburu’s fear, his anger, his hate, but also many of his positive feelings that he can’t understand, such as the feeling of enjoyment he gets from hurting others instead of being the one to be hurt. These are visceral, basic feelings that Noburu’s mind was not prepared to understand or cope with, and as a result, became the secondary personality that’s locked away in his mind. 

This personality isn’t entirely wild, but it lacks deep reasoning skills of any kind. Part of this is because it naturally taps into the physical training that Noburu’s father gave him, allowing him to exist in the ‘fight or flight’ state where his body is using the base proteins and giving him enhanced physical attributes on top of what he already has. 

Thus, this personality is not an offensive personality. It does not exist as an aggressor. It exists as a way for Noburu to defend himself, a result of his primary personality retreating into himself to escape the trauma that was being inflicted upon him. And as a result, only comes out when Noburu’s life is threatened or he feels that something deeply important to him is threatened. 

This was how Noburu killed his father; or more accurately, this personality killed his father, in order to protect something Noburu cared about. Because Noburu is unaware of this personality, he is also unaware of the people he’s killed, or that he killed his father. In many ways, one could call this the ‘father’ personality because it is what Noburu sees his father as being; brutal, efficient, violent, and strong. It is the monster he created to protect himself. 

It can speak of course, though not very well, and cannot read or write or reason beyond basic needs. It is at least vaguely aware of things that are important to Noburu. For example, it knows who is and is not important to him, able to determine friend and foe accordingly, but it likely doesn’t know names or anything about them. It only knows whether they are individuals that are threats to Noburu. 

To sum it up, this personality is the one that does the killing. It is the one that kills without remorse, that revels in the power it has and the powerlessness of others, and which contains all of Noburu’s negative feelings towards a world that he didn’t understand and felt alone in. It is a beast in a cage that hates and fears everyone else and enjoys the feeling of being able to victimize others the way it was victimized. 

However, these two personalities are not alone. When Noburu was found, alone, in a police raid on the underground pit where he was, he was taken into state custody. There, he was taught things like reading and writing and was exposed to many things he’d never seen or thought about before. 

On one hand, this was good, because he was in theory safer than he was before. But on the other, Noburu didn’t have the normal coping mechanisms that children develop to handle the world as it gets more complicated. Noburu, struggling to deal with the world, and still rather afraid of things he didn’t understand, retreated inward again, and thus a third personality was created. This third personality is a result of Noburu retreating from the ‘complex’ world that doesn’t fit in with his simplistic worldview. 

We might call this personality the ‘brother.’ Noburu often talks about his ‘younger’ brother that he has like it was his ‘older’ brother, and this is because the ‘brother’ personality is a more mature personality that is able to understand more complex topics and stimuli. 

It still exists as a ‘shield’ for Noburu. We might think of this as a bridge between Noburu’s primary personality, and his ‘father’ personality that exists to defend him from physical threats. This ‘brother’ personality is one that is aware of the other personalities, but isn’t entirely aware of everything they know. It has bits and pieces, but not everything. It can also be noticed because it has a different handwriting than Noburu, but also speaks differently than he does. 

One problem that has been occurring as Noburu has grown older is that his ‘primary’ personality has been retreating from the world more and more, afraid of everything that he encounters due to not being able to understand it. As a result, the ‘brother’ personality often finds itself randomly in control of Noburu, and while it exists for that purpose, the worrying part is that it has been happening more and more often, and for longer and longer periods of time. 

One major difference with the ‘brother’ is that he is fully aware that he is not the ‘main’ personality, given that he knows about the other two. He is also created from the parts of Noburu that are curious, and want to learn, which is why he is more mature and thoughtful. He is, in some respects, a reflection of Noburu’s interactions with other people, because he only came to be once Noburu began experiencing the outside world. 

[mybipolar-coaster]

An Introduction

I would like to say it was an easy decision to write down my experiences thus far in life but that would be a lie. I don’t really consider myself an interesting person. As a matter of fact, I consider myself rather boring. I like boring things like history and science. I studied statistics in university. I’ve led what I would consider an amazingly average life. That is, until late last year when I was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder, or as those in the states would call it, Bipolar I. Since then, so many things in my life have clicked into place. Things that had always seemed unusual now had a reason behind them, a cause. I had something I could point to and say, “that’s why”. Since being diagnosed I have found an entire community online of people both living with the disorder and coping with the fallout of it. I have also had my own share of trials and ordeals to deal with since my diagnosis, but that’s getting ahead of myself a bit. First, let me explain what it was that finally made me commit to writing this blog. I am currently waiting for the right opportunity to ask the girl I have been dating for the past 10 years to marry me. I have the ring. I know the when, I know the where. The how is still slightly eluding me but I think a small amount of improvisation on that front won’t hurt. This is what made me want to write this blog. I wanted to detail my feelings leading up to asking the question. I hope to portray the excitement and nerves leading up to the moment of truth so that afterwards I can get my (hopefully) fiancée to read back and see how much thought, work and planning went into this and how much I love her. But then I thought, “hey, why stop there”? I could keep the blog going afterwards, talk about ordinary, every-day things. Perhaps even give people an insight into how I live with my condition and how it affects those around me. I have always been a creative person and I enjoy writing, so maybe this could be a new hobby for me. I certainly hope so. So, this will be the first post in a hopefully ongoing series of blog posts. However, in the off chance that my girlfriend does happen to stumble upon this blog, I will be operating under strict anonymity for the time being. I won’t say my name, or the name of anyone that could be used to identify me in these blogs, at least until after I’ve popped the question, but everything else within will be true. I think an ideal first post then, would be for me to give a quick recap of my life so far, and give you the reader an introduction to my life and how my messed-up brain works. I hope you enjoy!

I was born in the UK in the early 90’s (trying to be vague) into a working-class family. My dad worked as an electrician in a dog-food factory and my mum volunteered as a cook in a nursing home. My parents were quite old when they had me, so there is a large age gap between me and the rest of my family. In fact, when I was born both of my older brothers were teenagers. My mum says that one of my brothers refused to talk to her or my dad for a year after they told him they were pregnant because he was so disgusted that they were still having sex “at their age”. Having an older family definitely has its advantages though. When I was young, all my siblings had jobs, so I got four times the amount of presents that most other kids got. I should point out that I also have a sister, who is the closest in age to me. Growing up, me and my sister got on like oil and water. I’m surprised my mum managed to survive through my early years – in the same year my sister turned sixteen I was going through my “terrible twos”. I have always been a mummy’s boy. Even now that I’m in my 20’s, I get on great with my mum and have a good relationship with her. I bring up my mum because she was my first ever contact with mental illnesses. My mum had panic attacks and generalised anxiety when I was younger. I have multiple memories of us being somewhere and my mum suddenly bursting into floods of tears, sometimes running away, and my dad having to track her down and console her. It was an incredibly scary experience as a child but, to my mum’s credit, she did a great job of explaining things as she calmed down. She would tell me it wasn’t anyone’s fault, that it was something that was medically wrong with her like being sick and that I shouldn’t blame myself for her attacks. Her explanations were pivotal in my understanding of mental illnesses and my dad’s behaviour during these attacks served as an example to me for the rest of my life on how to deal with a crisis situation.

Even far back in my childhood, symptoms of my bipolar were there. It was subtle, but there were things about me that made me different from other kids. I could be morose or have fits of worry every now and then. I would worry about dying, or someone in my family being hurt. I was very young when I realised that, because there was such a big age gap between me and the rest of my family, I was most likely going to have to watch my whole family die. I’d have to attend their funerals, possibly give speeches, and then I’d be left alone at the end. This terrified me as a child and even now it still serves as a strange sort of morbid obsession during my low days. For instance, I have the speech I will give at my father’s funeral memorised and have done for quite some time. My dad isn’t even ill and shows no signs of kicking the bucket anytime soon, but it plays in my head so often that I’ll be prepared for when that day comes. In fact, I’ll be prepared in more ways than one. Ever since I was a child, I have been experiencing a symptom of bipolar affective disorder that I didn’t even realise was unusual until I was diagnosed. I spent my entire life thinking everyone got this at certain points in their lives and it was only after a conversation with my girlfriend where she pointed out that this wasn’t normal that I went to a psychiatrist and got diagnosed. This symptom is called Disassociation. Disassociation can happen multiple ways, but it always affects me the same way. During moments of crisis, moments of importance or sometimes when I feel I am in a place of some significance, I feel as if I leave my body and allow another entity to control it. That sounds far more sinister than what it actually feels like so let me try and explain it as best I can. Most people experience going on autopilot, where their mind switches off and they continue to do some monotonous or repetitive task. My Disassociation feels a bit like that. The entity that takes over my body is my autopilot. He will do what I would want to do anyway. He doesn’t have his own needs or wants. He just does. I, on the other hand, leave my body. I picture it like that episode of Tom & Jerry where Tom accidentally kills himself with a falling piano while chasing Jerry. His soul leaves his body and rises up to cat heaven only to not be allowed in because he’s been so mean to Jerry. Well my “soul” (I don’t believe in a soul so the more fitting term here would probably be id) leaves me in the same way and floats, just above and behind me, and observes. I feel like I am acting like a documentarian in these moments. Like a wildlife cameraman observing the animal he has been tracking for years being eaten by a predator – I am totally detached. I’m there to watch, not to influence. Sometimes I think maybe I’m me in the future, remembering this event and not actually the present me at all. Does this make sense? It’s a very strange sensation and, from what I gather, kind of unique to me so I really struggle to explain it to other people. My girlfriend thinks she can sometimes tell when I’m disassociating though. She says I become wide-eyed and emotionless, talking in a monotone. This might be true, but she has only been able to correctly identify when I’m disassociating twice in the entire time I’ve known her so it might just be they were particularly noticeable incidents.

Of course, the other big symptom of Bipolar Affective Disorder is the mood cycles. When I was younger, my cycles were generally rather enjoyable but as I have gotten older, they have gotten less enjoyable and more something to be monitored and observed. Before I go any further into how my cycle affects me, I feel I should spend a bit of time explaining the cycle as a lot of people don’t really get the Bipolar cycle and there is a lot of misinformation in the media. To put it in the simplest terms, lets imagine a scale from 0 to 10. Now if you are a neurotypical, normal person, I want you to imagine the happiest you have ever been. Then I want you to imagine the saddest you’ve ever been. Now if I was to say to you that 0 is the worst and 10 is the best, where would you put those memories? Probably 0 and 10, right? Well, in terms of measuring bipolar moods, we tend to use the 0 to 10 scale as well but ours is a bit different. When you get down to 0, there should be extreme hopelessness. Either you haven’t moved for extended periods, haven’t eaten and most likely have self-harmed, tried to commit suicide or have at least given it serious thought. Now your 0 may hit a lot of those same notes. You may have considered killing yourself after the death of a close loved one or a life event that hit you particularly hard. Once again, I want you to think back to that worst moment in your life. Now what if I said you’d feel that way every few months. You feel like that, not because something has happened or because you lost something but because it’s September. It’s just that time again. Now let’s go to the other side of the spectrum. This one is a little trickier because it involves more than just emotion, it involves energy levels and sanity levels. This is an important thing to bear in mind with bipolar. If you’re a normal person, your 10 is the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. If you’re bipolar, you’re 10 is the furthest from reality you’ve ever been in your life. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes mania can feel great but sometimes it can feel like hell. A 10 on the bipolar scale can involve hallucinations, delusions of grandeur, an insane amount of energy that absolutely must be excised, a manic state and way of speaking and a lack of need to sleep. Seriously, while manic I can sleep for as little as 2 hours in a 48-hour period and feel absolutely fine. The only upside to a manic state is that it can sometimes feel really good and all that energy helps you get through a lot of work if you can keep focused. You also tend to get a burst of creativity while manic which can help with business projects, artistic creations or even writing the first post for a new blog!

I think I’ll leave it here for my first blog post, I’ve explained a little about myself and why I wanted to start this blog, but mostly rambled in my scatter-brained way about my bipolar disorder. I think I’ve put enough words down for today and I’ll pick up on this tomorrow. I promise I will get into more of the general diary keeping and talking about the proposal, but I feel it is important to get this bipolar stuff explained first so that you know what lens I look at the world through before I start telling you what I can see. And if you’re reading this, I love you Gorgeous!

-B

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

im gonna ask you a question. so, right now i identify as female (cis). and i'm not sure about it. how did you realize you were nonbinary? i tried out they/them pronouns once and i didn't like it. but like. sometimes i don't feel right with my name and my pronouns and my body. but that just might be depression or me zoning the heck out haha. i'm young, i have time. but i just want help? ? ? haha thank you and i really love your blog

Aw, no worries, nonny.  

So I’m going to preface this by saying that everyone’s experience is unique, I’m not a professional anything, take anything I say with a grain of salt and do your own research and come to your own decisions.  I will also mention that I have Borderline Personality Disorder, and one of the major symptoms of BPD is a lack of identity, sort of the… throwing yourself into things and other people and other people’s styles and making that who you are over and over and never quite feeling like you have an identity that means “you”.  I mention this because that’s one of the things that currently has the biggest impact on me of all my BPD issues, and that has colored my entire gender journey, which in turn colors my advice and thoughts about it.

So as far as me realizing I was NB, it was a looooong process.  I felt kind of dysphoric and maybe not-female for literal years, then I came out as trans because I figured “this probably means I’m a trans guy” and it felt MUCH better but still not quite right.  After a couple years I went “yeah, not quite a guy either. …I guess that means I’m neither?” and that’s pretty much how that happened.

All that said, I’ll mention the following things: 

1) the more I recognized and processed the internalized misogyny I have, the less dysphoric being read as female has become.  It’s kind of plateaued and I think I’ve mostly just hit “i’m nb but more comfortable on the feminine side of things than I used to be” but hey, who knows, right?  I mention this one first both to get it out of the way and because of stuff you mentioned in your ask.  It’s not unheard of at ALL for cis women to feel very dysphoric about their bodies and uncomfortable with their womanhood.  It’s not universal, though, it’s just a possible option.  Our society hates women and teaches women to hate themselves, but whether you’re just a woman dealing with the fallout of living in a deeply misogynistic society or a trans person is something only you can decide.

2) I have known more than one cis female lesbians who identified as nb and don’t anymore, or identified as a trans guy and now identify as nb or cis.  There is a lot of bullshit that most of us are trained into unknowingly about hating women and hating ourselves, and when we find ourselves loving women, it just compounds like… EVERYTHING.  So if you’re a lesbian or bi, this could be something to keep in mind.

3) my most dysphoric moments were also tied to what I would consider my most disassociated moments.  When i’m struggling so hard to even feel a connection to my body, things that make me actively NOT identify with my own body are like that much worse.  It could also be the other way around, but either way, they can feed into each other.  Mental illness can be a huge influence on your identity.  That doesn’t mean your identity is wrong just because you’re mentally ill - i firmly believe that part of the reason I identify with nonbinary so hard is because it’s sort of an “in-between, unspecific, not really anything” sort of identity to me, and that’s how I feel about my identity at large most of the time.  That said, identifying as NB has been a source of relief and joy, so even if it IS stemming from my BPD I don’t give a shit because it makes my life better.

4) It’s okay to change.  If you’re cis now, and you identify as NB or a trans guy later, that’s okay.  If even later, your identity shifts again, that’s ok too.  Some people find who they are young and never really stop feeling that.  Some people are really fluid and have a complex and ever-evolving relationship with their identity.  Neither one is wrong. Your labels are for YOU.  To make YOU feel like you have a handle on yourself.  As your understanding of yourself changes, your labels might change too.  That’s ok.  Anyone who tells you it’s not is not worth your time.

5) You are valid.  I know that’s basically a meme at this point and it’s a funny one, but the thing is that you are.  You are you.  You’re allowed to be you, and feel your feelings.  The important part of any of that is how you REACT and ACT ON those things. 

6) You’re allowed to tell people no when they ask questions.  You’re allowed to say “that’s personal” or “I don’t feel comfortable answering that” or “sorry, you must be at least a level 5 friend to unlock that part of my backstory” or whatever.  You do not have to feel obligated to explain yourself and your identity and how you came to that identity and how it affects your sexuality etc etc ad nauseum to everyone who asks. It’s okay not to answer questions about things that people technically have no right to.  It’s also ok to answer them if you’re down for it, but you’re not being rude by saying “no, that’s too personal, I’m not comfortable with that”.  If they push it, THEY’RE the ones being rude.

7) The last and possibly most divergent from the original topic thing I’m going to say is possibly the most controversial?  And it’s more about attraction than gender, but in my experience, dealing with one inevitibly means dealing with the other at the very least inasmuch as where they intersect, but that experience is why I’m including this. Unless nothing else has worked for you, I would stay away, at least initially, from the split attraction model.  That’s the x-sexual/x-romantic split, and identifying them separately.  I am not saying they’re bad or that they can’t be useful or helpful, but the thing is that they are mostly of use to the ace community, and only to a limited extent.  Diving into them when you don’t need to can just over-complicate things; as much as labels are for YOU, it also doesn’t help to be overly specific.  If you can be sexually attracted to both guys and girls but you’re only interested in being in relationships with girls?  Sure, you could say you’re bisexual homoromantic (as a girl that is) but unless that is something that is NECESSARY FOR YOU, you could also just say you’re bi with a preference, or say you’re a lesbian because yes i think bi women who are still attracted to guys physically but have no intention of or desire to be with men can call themselves lesbians if that’s more comfortable for them.  I say this mostly because I and more than a few people I know have done the split attraction model because it’s what is being done or w/e and it messed with them being able to actually deal with issues they were having and correctly identifying their sexualities and etc etc etc.  It’s not intrinsically bad or harmful or wrong, but it’s also not intrinsically good, and it’s not useful for anyone.  Unless you think it’s absolutely the only way to find your identity, I would largely steer clear of it for yourself.  I put this last because it’s the least related to your actual question.

…I can’t think of anything else rn.  Use the identifiers and terms that you’re comfortable with but don’t feel bad or ashamed of changing them if you realize they don’t apply anymore.  Don’t feel like you have to identify things super-specifically just because it’s common practice.  Uh…. idk, i’m a wee bit tipsy but hopefully some of this was even a little bit helpful?  GOOD LUCK MY SMOL ONE, EVEN IF I CAN’T HELP I’M HERE TO LISTEN IF YOU NEED AN EAR OR A SHOULDER!