#and my therapist was like 'yeah that seems perfectly normal. depression explains all of this' and i was a bit like ?????

[mercymaker]

as if struggling to crawl out of the mental illness pit™ and accidentally causing a chronic pain flare up wasn't enough the deer god said 'sickness be upon ye' and gave me full body shivers and a cough

[beelspillowpet]

Hello... Could you do some headcanons of the brothers reacting to MC having an ED? Like... Food restriction and p*rging, and, yeah... All of that... Sorry if this is very weird and/or uncomfortable... I struggle with that and I kinda seek comfort... Thanks

So I’ll be the first to say; you’re perfectly fine in asking for this request. You’re not alone in your fight with eating disorders; I have one as well. I try not to touch on it too much in my own media with my characters and such, but I hope you manage to overcome yours, anon. Learning to eat more (or less) is so important and it’s so hard to try and force ourselves to do it right. Please don’t feel like you’re a burden for this ask, it’s brave to even say it outloud, despite being on anon. You’re brave, you’re strong, and you can overcome this.

MC Has An Eating Disorder

CONTENT WARNING BELOW THE CUT!!!! Eating Disorders | Depressive Themes | Generally triggering - please be careful with reading this one.

PLEASE speak to a professional or call the hotline ( (571) 257-3378 ) if you feel like it’s getting beyond your control. Take CARE of yourselves. I don’t know you personally, but I would be sad if you weren’t able to help yourself, especially with how harsh the world has been for the past year.

Lucifer

He notices you don’t eat much at dinner. Originally suspects it’s because the food palette is far from what humans are used to. I mean, brains? From a dragon? They may be Belphie’s favorite, but you weren’t Belphie, now were you? He decides to try and cook (and have his brothers do the same) much tamer foods.

It doesn’t seem to work at first, with how you barely seem to eat. Sometimes you can feel his eyes on you, so you force yourself to scarf down whatever you can before handing the rest to Beel. He keeps an eye on you closely. He invites you to dinners, brunch, the likes. He’s just trying to see what you will and won’t eat.

It’s amazing how he hadn’t caught on to such an obvious answer yet. What makes him realize it though, is after he’s cleaned up from your lunch with him, he finds you in the bathroom, emptying your stomach. He doesn’t fully understand it still. You’ve been found out to been doing this for a long time; even before you got here to the Devildom.

He suspected you were just a smaller person. Something in him just couldn’t believe you were doing this to yourself. He wanted to know why, but getting an answer out of you didn’t seem like a good idea. Chances are you didn’t know either. He brings it up carefully while you two are alone. He explains why he’s concerned, instead of being roundabout with it, choosing to be direct. He cares about you, not just for Diavolo’s sake. He wants you to be able to take care of yourself when he can’t look after you anymore.

Mammon

Is probably the first to notice that you’re starving yourself, save for Beel. He’s been in the business of being a model for long enough, he’s seen others starve themselves and purge just to look thinner. That’s exactly what he catches you doing one day.

He’s worried. He’s dealt with helping his fellow models out with this sort of thing in the past. Albeit not as sensitive, he always managed to get his point across with others. But you? You were eating fine one day, and then for the next three or four days you barely ate anything at all. It’s like you were punishing yourself.

His approach is similar to Lucifer’s but a little more experienced in his talk. He’s explaining that he’s worried about you, and that you need to get some food in you if you’re gonna be able to do anything. With each bit of resistance you give, any excuse you can give, he shoots it down quickly. Mammon has probably heard it a thousand times before. You’re not getting off easy.

He’s trying to be soft yet firm about this. You can tell even he is nervous about this confrontation. Regardless of how you take it, he’s patient and supportive. He even asks you if you’re doing this for a specific reason. He doesn’t expect you to be able to eat full meals the very next day. He catches you snacking on foods every once in a while. Thankfully, healthy stuff instead of junk food. It’s not much, but it’s something for your sake.

Leviathan

He knows almost immediately. He may or may not have a similar issue. Maybe not to the same degree, but he understands it. He decides to wait until you two are alone. Probably in his room. Still he waits, he waits until he can form the words in his head.

When he finally does pick the perfect moment, it’s probably not in his room while you two were watching anime or playing games. He’d likely chickened out in that moment, too afraid of upsetting you with the topic. Instead, he’s now in your room, standing at the door way. Like he’s an intruder, coming to scream at you for your problems.

His words are running together and he’s on the verge of tears. He practiced what he was going to say nearly a thousand times over, but he can barely get a sentence going before the dam breaks and he’s crying. How is he supposed to help you when he can’t even fix his own horrible eating habits? He gets so wrapped up in his otaku life that he sometimes forgets to eat. So who is he to lecture you?

He sits down with you, and you both look into how to fix this. While his problems aren’t as severe, yours definitely are. He doesn’t want to be dramatic, but you seeing a professional about this is probably the best course of action. Neither of you can build up the courage to ask someone else in the house for help, so you call a doctor together. Therapy is now on the table for options of seeking help, and while reluctant still, you wouldn’t bare to see Leviathan like that again. It was for you after all. You wanted to feel better, so he could feel better too.

Satan

Doesn’t pick up on it immediately, but once he does realize it, he’s on to you about it. He makes little remarks about it here and there, never teasing, but very curious. He’s trying to play armchair therapist and figure out what’s causing you to do this to yourself.

Eventually he comes to you while you’re alone and asks you about it. He’s calm and respectful the entire time, trying to get you to open up to him. Is it a lack of control in your life? He can relate to that. Not everyone gets forced to live in Hell for a year and be an exchange student.

He doesn’t exactly shut down each of your attempts of denial so easily as Mammon might, but he’s trying his best. The nonsensical pattern of your eating habits throws him through a loop, and he’s not sure if he’s able to keep up.

He does get one of his friends involved, who happens to be an expert in this field. He just wanted to wager for himself how severe the problem was before he got any help involved. He’s only hoping you can snap out of it and get yourself together. He doesn’t want you starving yourself for any reason.

Asmodeus

Like Levi, he may or may not have had a similar problem. Maybe to the same tune as a model, but it’s not a severe case. Regardless, when he catches you starving yourself, he’s unnerved by it. You said you weren’t hungry but your stomach is growling for food. Everyone thought it might have been Beel’s stomach, but it’s yours.

You’re only eating specific things at specific times. You can’t allow yourself to snack at all, and sometimes when you do, you withhold yourself from eating anything for the next day or so. Sometimes you won’t even leave your room. on those days.

Asmo is smart, so when you start wearing bigger clothes in vain hopes to cover up your skinny body, he steps in. He’s soft spoken and gentle, telling you how much he loves you and cares about you. He’s not afraid to tell you that your eating habits are hurting your body. He’s careful about it, and he’s trying to make sure you understand where he’s coming from. He’s doing this because he sees so many things that can go wrong with this. He doesn’t want any of them to become a reality.

With his help, you start to pick healthier things to eat. You aren’t eating full meals yet, let alone half your plate, but it’s more food than you were consuming before. He keeps you at it and overtime starts to see even more progress with you. He’s glad you’re coming around with his help.

Beelzebub

He for one, is glad that you seem to eat a lot. It’s not every day you see a human able to put food away like he does. Well- not quite like how he does, but close enough! You eat normally while in the dining room with the brothers, but then at night when everyone is in their rooms, you’ll go to the kitchen with him and eat the entire fridge’s contents.

You figured the last person to notice these issues is someone else who has a problem with their eating habits. While Bele isn’t exactly a human, you could consider his eating habits similar to just bingeing. Almost constantly, at that. Disappearing after eating with him is common practice. You’ll rush to the bathroom and purge your stomach of all its contents you had just consumed. Part of you is extremely guilty, eating all that food just so you could throw it up later.

Beel is a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. At some point, he does catch you throwing up into the toilet. He was coming to take a shower before leaving for RAD when he found you doubled over the bowl. It was a few minutes after breakfast. He had figured by now, you’d been doing this for a while, long enough to where you’d start turning the sink on (sometimes flushing the toilet or turning on the shower) to hide the sounds. It didn’t work today.

He didn’t understand why you’d do this to yourself. He’d never really heard of eating disorders before, and always assumed it was normal to just eat whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. He figured trying to be careful with his own eating habits around you, would help you learn to eventually figure out how much you could eat. He’s patient, always talking to you while you eat with him, trying to distract your brain from the stress of eating. When you can’t finish all of your food that’s okay; he’s there to eat however much is left. It works out perfect for the both of you. He just wants to make sure you’ve at least eaten enough for your own body first.

Belphegor

Pica is a strange one. Belphie knows about these sorts of things. His twin brother is Beel, how could he not?

He’s almost certain you’ve got it. He’s never seen a human eat things like dirt, mud, or rocks. Beel, of course has eaten an entire pillar in the Demon Lord’s castle, but he’s not human. He’s not even a normal demon. You, on the other hand, are presumed to be a totally normal human. And humans don’t eat rocks.

He doesn’t know how to properly bring it up at first. He takes you up to the attic for a nap, and while you’re both laying there together, realizes that you two are alone. Now is just as good of a time as any, right?

Because it’s such a fatal things, Belphie is more than just determined to help you. As soon as possible, you’re seeing a doctor for this. He wants you to feel good about yourself, and your body can’t be feeling good if it doesn’t have normal foods to keep itself going. It may seem a bit selfish, but he wants to make it up to you. If you can’t properly care for yourself, he’ll make it his life’s goal to care for you. 

[lockedstuck]

beyond our fury and our silences

2021, 04/17 - Sollux Captor

You envy the patients on the unit who have a “normal” to return to. You never have, and never will. You’ve had periods of more gentle oscillation, like high school as opposed to the jagged highs and equally disruptive lows of your undergraduate years. However, you haven’t been “normal” in terms of psychopathology since you were a kid.

Dr. Vandayar suggests that perhaps your childhood years did a number on your sanity, though not word for word. He’s way more polite about it. You kind of want to hit him for it.

Your dad did his absolute best to raise you, all seventy hour weeks to afford summer camp for gifted kids and SHSAT prep classes. So did your mother, teaching you math and history, even if she was psychotic, even when her mental landscape frequently shifted like sand on the beach. 

Once, when you were maybe ten, she came home an hour late from a quick run to the grocery store five blocks away. She explained, gentle yet adamant, that people had decided to follow her home, and she did not want them to know where she was going. What if they’d decided to rob her? Your dad sighed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She sat at the dining room table later, repeatedly drawing pictures of seashells. When you sat down next to her, and pulled your chair close so that you could see her work, she started to explain the Fibonacci sequence to you. It wasn’t hard to understand adding the sums of the two previous numbers together. She launched into another explanation of the not unrelated golden ratio, and you just sat there and let her go on for a while, even when you didn’t quite understand. 

She took out a nautilus shell that she had fashioned into a necklace, showed it to you, and wound up giving it to you. When you asked her why, she smiled and shrugged. You continue to wear it underneath your clothing. 

Perhaps you’ll give it to Feferi when she gets discharged, given her love of all things aquatic. At this rate, she’ll probably get out before you do, what with the nine ECT treatments you still have to complete.

Out of nowhere, Roxy walks over to you, and you glance up at her. You know by now that whatever comes out of her mouth will be either offensive, amusing, or both.

“Aradia’s on the phone for you, Lispy! Hey, could you tell her something for me?”

You stand up and stretch, fingertips toward the ceiling. “What is it?”

“Tell her that her voice is really cute, but that she’s way cuter in person,” she replies. “Wait, hold up. Tell me she’s not straight. Is she straight? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

You don’t know whether or not to answer truthfully. You should probably ask Aradia about that beforehand. You walk over to the pay phone, and put the receiver to your mouth.

“Ray? Is that you?”

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. Then, a pause that stretches into infinity, or ten whole seconds at the very least. “Is it okay if I visit tonight instead of tomorrow? One of my students is actually attending my office hours, which--”

“--overlap with my visiting hours,” you finish. Maybe you should have let her complete her sentence. 

You’re tetchy and impatient, the first thing having been induced by your session with Dr. Vandayar, and the second by the fact that next week will mark one whole month since you arrived at this hospital, and what precisely do you have to show for it? 

Roxy’s almost completely weaned off methadone and will probably leave next week, to go to inpatient rehab. June is going home the Monday after next. Feferi got here the same day as you and will most certainly be gone the same week as June. Eridan will be gone before you finish out your ECT treatments, since his conclude next week, as will Karkat, Porrim, and probably even Calliope. The only person who may not leave before you is Latula, and although she’s perfectly kind, you don’t know her very well. 

You didn’t realize how long you’ve stewed in your thoughts until you hear Aradia ask, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. You said you wanted to come tonight as opposed to tomorrow. That’s fine.”

“And what about you?” she asks.

You shrug.

“What about me?”

“Are you fine?”

The only person you suck at lying to more than Aradia is your father, and your dad is only leading by a narrow margin. That may be why you signed a HIPPA release so that your treatment team could talk to both of them.

“I had a weird therapy session today. Normally I get along with my therapist, but today I almost wanted to punch him in the face.”

Aradia asks if you’d like to talk about it, and your kneejerk is to say, “hell no”, but during another therapy session a couple of days ago, Dr. Vandayar stressed the importance of not being unwilling to depend on one’s support team. As vaguely annoyed as you still are at him, you did concede the point on Monday afternoon.

“I guess it was because… well… fuck, I don’t know how to explain this without sounding like an asshole. He didn’t actually say anything that wasn’t true, but maybe it was the way he said it? I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ray, I’m rambling all over the fucking place.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go on.”

“He pretty much said that my situation with my parents could have contributed a lot to why I’m all fucked up in the head. Not currently, but like, before, when I was a kid. I was like, where exactly does this guy get off making that kind of judgment? And then I was like, dude, you weren’t there, you didn’t see it, so how do you know? ‘Cause my parents, they did the absolute best they could with what they had. I mean, I didn’t say that to him, but I felt it. And I felt angry at him about it.”

A long silence, one that you feel sink down to the pit of your stomach.

“Well.”

“Well, what?”

“I get that you’re upset, but Sollux, it’s not like this is something you’ve never said to me.”

“But Aradia, that’s different. I was there. So were you, for parts of it. You’ve met my parents a billion times. But aside from a few conversations with you and Baba, Dr. V barely knows anything about my life. For him to say it like that… I don’t like it. I don’t know why, but I don’t.”

“Because it seems like he’s judging people and events he hasn’t had the opportunity to witness first-hand.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s it!”

It feels like an indictment against your family, and if you are anything to a fault, you are loyal to Mituna and your parents. All of them came together for you, the youngest, the most successful. Even being here, unable to provide for them both emotionally and financially, feels like the worst blow in the world. 

You shouldn’t be here getting the memory zapped out of you in some last-ditch effort to quell your mania and depression. You should be outside working, seeing to the needs of someone besides yourself. You should be meeting Aradia at her apartment every other night, helping her clean out her apartment, which quickly devolves into chaos, ashtrays full of spent cigarette butts, and dishes piling up in the sink, as she scrambles to finish up her master’s thesis.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from your father, it is that you are what you contribute, and being here, seemingly unable to contribute anything, might just be the worst sensation in the world.

You’re alone with yourself here, face to face with everything you hate about yourself, with all your aspirations and all your neuroses, and you hate it, you hate it, you hate it, you want out so badly. But what if they don’t let you leave and you end up at your mother’s worst fear - involuntary status? If four weeks of hospitalization seem like hell, what about sixty days, your fate handed down via court order?

What if that knee-jerk desire to 72 hour letter yourself away from thrice weekly therapy sessions is just another trap? What if you leave and try to slit your throat again? What if you actually succeed this time around? Who the fuck is going to take care of your family?

It all comes down to that.

You’d rather like to bang your head against the wall until you either make things clearer or knock yourself out. 

“I’ll be there tonight, Sollux,” Aradia says, suddenly. Not for the first time, you wonder if she can read your mind and tell when you’re starting to decompensate more than usual.

Aradia gets there long before six o’ clock. In fact, you notice her tell-tale garnet-colored blazer, as you look through the small rectangular window in the door of the main unit, sometime around 5:20. A woman in a small black dress stands not far away from her, and once you notice her carefully coiffed blonde hair, you walk over to the women’s side of the unit and loudly knock on Roxy’s door.

“And what can I do for you?” she asks, removing the headphone radio that has all but been surgically attached to her head. “Do you have news about Aradia’s sexual orientation?”

You roll your eyes at her, more to keep up appearances than an actual rebuke.

“Your mom’s here,” you reply.

Roxy seems to consider this, then picks up her stuffed cat from her bed and pads into the hallway. Calliope waves at you, the light on their side of the room switched on so they can write. You wave back, then follow Roxy back to the main door of the unit, to resume your little vigil.

You stand without word or gesture, a good six feet away from the door so the night staff doesn’t bitch. They seem to have given up on Roxy, who stands only two feet away from the door and jumps up and down as she waves to her mom. Her mom waves back, though in a more sedate fashion than her child. 

You rather like Ms. Lalonde, honestly. It’s hard to dislike a family member who comes so often. According to Roxy, she only misses Mondays for work related reasons. You think the only person who has her beat in terms of visiting is June’s dad, who has yet to miss a day of seeing his daughter, at least during your stay here.

After about ten minutes of furious waving, Roxy starts doing the YMCA with her arms. Her mother actually returns the motions. 

Aradia glances at her, cracks up, and giggles helplessly, which makes you smile.

When they finally start letting visitors in, Aradia steps behind Ms. Lalonde without a word. Aradia signs the book after her, and then Mr. Egbert signs after that.

Maybe he smuggled a whole ass lemon meringue pie onto the unit. You’d probably kiss him if he did that, and you’re pretty sure macking on your friend’s hot dad is frowned upon in most situations.

Aradia walks into the unit, and it’s only a moment before you’ve scooped her up into your arms. You’re so skinny that Karkat calls you a walking skeleton comprised of caffeine and spite, and Aradia has more curves than a parametric equation. You still manage to pick her up so her toes momentarily leave the ground, pull her close, and kiss her forehead before you let her go. 

She interlaces your fingers with hers.

“What table are we sitting at tonight?” she wants to know, gazing at the sea of round wooden tables in the dining room.

“The one by the window, in the corner,” you decide, after a moment’s thought. The chairs are heavy, so they can’t be thrown across the unit by angry patients you suppose, but you pull out your chair and sit down easily enough. It occurs to you that maybe you should have pulled hers out, but she gets the job done. 

You sit right beside her, and before you can think on it, you let her pull you close. Your head on her shoulder, and your arm thrown around her back. It’s not the most comfortable position, but she smells like lilies, cocoa butter, cigarettes, and home. 

You bring to mind all the animal skulls on her shelves, all the volumes of dead poets stacked haphazardly around them. Everything has been arranged to display her fixation on things that have shuffled off this mortal coil, for the exception of the flourishing plants on her terrace. 

Her arms come up around your shoulders, and she scoots over so the position is more comfortable for your lanky ass. She presses a kiss to your temple, and then to the shell of your ear. You smile in spite of yourself.

 It occurs to you that you have not had a self-loathing thought since she arrived.

It’s easier to not hate yourself when someone who would either try to refute or talk you through your issues sits beside you, singing softly.

“Tastes like strawberries on a summer evening. And it sounds just like a song...”

You snort. “I had no idea you were so fond of Harry Styles.”

She stops singing for the moment, but you’ve already started to hum the next part of the song, while she explains where she first heard it.

“My neighbor used to like to sit on her balcony and listen to the radio while I talked to my fig tree. It was on constant replay on Z100. And it’s catchy. So I sang it. A lot.”

You imagine Aradia as she sings, the long dark curls of her hair unpinned the way they usually are when she’s at home, moving along to the music as she waters her plants. It’s a nice mental image, the kind you wouldn’t mind getting lost in.

Here is one way you might safeguard yourself from the impulses and the dorco razor-blades. 

You can’t watch Aradia bustle around her apartment if you’re not alive. You can’t help her, or your dad in their gardens - why do so many of your loved ones have an affinity for plants when you can barely keep a cactus alive - if you’re six feet under.

You also cannot remind her of her own neglected tasks - “Aradia, c’mon, you have to wash these dishes, there’s fuckin’ fruit flies here, I hate fruit flies.” - and then watch as she makes a meal with the newly washed dishes just so that she knows you’ve eaten that day. 

You think she’d give an approving nod to your thoughts.

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. You glance at her face, the anxiety written across it.

That won’t do. You never liked seeing her worried about anything.

“Yeah, Ray? What’s going on?”

“When you get out of here, after all your treatments are finished, I was wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

She exhales slowly. She takes your hand in hers. You let the warmth suffuse through you. 

“Would you like to move in with me? I know you need to be close to your family, but it’s just the F to the 7 train to get to Flushing.”

You consider this. You’ve known Aradia since the sixth grade, and you are now twenty-seven, which adds up to something like sixteen years of friendship. Aradia knows you like nobody else. Not even your father.

She’s handled your weird mood shit and chronic suicidality with more skill than some clinicians you’ve had. In return, you’ve kept her alive - her parents coddled her to a fault, and she had next to no idea how the world outside academia functioned - and helped her through her occasional bouts of clinical depression.

“You’ll take me to Essex Market and get me that bougie vegan cheese?” you ask. 

There are more questions, several in fact, that you need answered before you give her a decision, but you’ll start with the inanities and work your way up to the logistics.

“When have I not?” she replies. 

You snort.

“How much am I going to pay in rent, for one?”

Aradia seems to consider this for a moment.

“For now, nothing, since you’re not working, and I’m already covering my rent with my job,” she says. “But once you get a job, I’d like you to kick something in. Not too much.”

“Where would I even sleep?”

“The couch in the main room is a pullout. And even If you wanted to sleep in my room, I think I have enough space for another bed.”

You think it over, and some traitorous part of your brain bristles at what is essentially charity from her. Her family - comfortably upper middle class - must be helping her with rent. There is no way in hell that she scored a one bedroom near Bowery on her salary as an adjunct professor. You don’t know what they’d think of letting you live there, or maybe you do, and that’s why you’re hesitant to accept this. They’ve come to actually like you, but you’re not eager to test out how far that goes.

She must sense your hesitation. She once more interlaces her fingers with yours, and lets out a small sigh.

“At least think it over, Sollux.”

“You know I will.”

“I think we function better when we’re in the same place than when we’re not.”

You grin. “You know it.”

The other thing that gives you pause consists of your own confusing feelings about her. 

Some days you want to kiss her senseless, peel her out of that red jacket, the black tank top, the long gray skirt. You want to see her, and only her. You want to shed your t-shirt and skinny jeans and have her see you. You want to hold her, press against her, and have her return the gesture. Your longing to be as close to her as humanly possible sweeps over you like a wave, and you have never been known for any particular skill at swimming.

Other days, you just want to sit next to her and make fun of her when she sings Watermelon Sugar. Or like the time she forgot her umbrella at home, a torrential downpour decided to strike and you had to run to the Second Avenue F train station and hope you got there in time to catch her. Still, more recently, the pair of you playing video games and swearing at each other with a giant container of mapo tofu between you. You want the easy rhythm of your close friendship, something familiar, and easy to navigate.

Most of all, you’re afraid. You’re afraid that if you take the plunge and alter the parameters of your relationship, that you’ll lose her entirely if things don’t pan out. And where the hell would you be without her?

[desultory-suggestions]

hii!! how can I bring up to my therapist the topic of diagnosis and such? my psychiatrist is a bitch and my gp has offered me to change to another because se put under diagnosis "sadness and other difficulties caused by childhood" (I don't remember but I was some bullshit like that) then on the most recent one she wrote possible BN (bulimia nervosa) or smth like that. she had to write that for the educational home services because my mental illness make me so disabled that I can't go to school, the problem here is that in the paper saying why I can't go to school she just put anxiety, like just that. and I'm not really sure if she should've just put that, every time I've talked to her I've brought my social anxiety, when I first started seeing her 3 years ago I was extremely depressed. and it makes me so angry because I don't know what I have on paper, yeah I have anxiety, I have some sort of eating disorder, and derealization and depersonalization tendencies but that's just things me and my therapist discuss, they're not on paper. I don't have a proper diagnosis for all of these things. I want to bring the distress this brings me to my therapist because i want to change psychiatrist and get a complete diagnosis on what is happening to me, not to use it was an excuse but as understanding. and to explain what happens to me to the to people I love without just having to be "I feel bad a lot of days for multiple stuff that's going on in my brain" I just want that shit on paper, some validation , it's the least I deserve, to have my suffering recognized

Hello, love! Communicating with your therapist is so important. I am so sorry to hear that you’re receiving such poor health care from this practitioner. Wanting a diagnosis is perfectly normal and healthy! Knowing what’s happening to us is key to healing, and even if you are tested for something and the results don’t confirm, there’s still something going on. I 100% think you should find a new psychiatrist. She seems to have a very ineffective and improper practice. I think unpacking this with your therapist is good. Be honest about what you have been dealing with, and it’s okay to ask to have specific things listed on documentation for school. If you want your depression listed because it really affects you, ask! I hope you find someone who is really kind and listens to you. Take care!

-Evan

[kingsuckjin]

The Enigma of Bunny | Pt.4

Pairing: Jungkook, Taehyung, Yoongi, Jin x reader ft. Namjoon and Hobi

Genre: angst, fluff, mystery (later: horror) smut (soon) yandere

Warnings: (I’m so sorry Tae stans) hints and talk of noncon/dubcon, hints of sex, self hatred.

Synopsis: You find a very sick young man in an alley and out of the bottomless barrel of kindness that is your heart, you decide take him home. Only then do you realize this stranger doesn’t speak, but that’s not the only strange thing about him by far. Who is he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? And why can’t he remember anything or even speak?

Words: 3.6k+

Tag list: If you want to be added to the tag list just let me know @rikkafunthepureone @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sam-moss @minyoongi-infiresme @appreciatethefoolishness @sugajinny @loserjeonjk @savanna-1 @bulletproof-points

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——

“I need you to come in NOW. We need to talk about your obvious slacking.”

That message from your boss terrified you. It was true you were slacking at getting work done but you were busy helping Jungkook. Of course your dictator boss, Kim Taehyung, wouldn’t understand that, he only cared about himself, his company, and which Gucci suit he would wear that day. You were surprised he was letting you work from home at all but you did work more diligently at home and more hours of course and that made him money.

You had no idea what to do with Jungkook as you threw on your office best, a pencil skirt, heels and a nice dress shirt.

You dialed Yoongi’s number as you got dressed and you thanked god as he answered but he sounded tired. you spewed apologies and explained that you needed his help again asking him to come over and watch Jungkook for you. You knew if you had to leave him it would have to be here at the house with someone he liked and that’s what you told him.

Jungkook looked at your attire and his eyes followed you across the room  as you walked over to him and sat down next to him.

“Jungkook, I have to leave for a bit but-”

“Leave?!” He interrupted suddenly panicked.

“Yes, but not too long. Yoongi will be here with you.”

“I don’t come?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, you can’t.”

“Why?” It was his newest favorite word that you had heard countless times over the past few days.

“Because I have to go to work today.”

“Work? Why?”

“My boss probably wants to yell at me”

“Yell?! Yell at noona?! No! Did noona do bad?” He was now also concerned along with flipping his shit over you needing to leave.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“No! No yell at noona!” You had noticed when he got upset his speech got worse.

“Its okay.” You laid your hand on his larger, warm one for reassurance and it seemed to do the trick in calming him a few notches. “It won’t be too bad. I’ll be back before you know it. Be brave for me and be good while I’m gone, okay? Don’t get upset. I’ll be back.”

He had a pained look on his face but he nodded apprehensively but in understanding just as there was a knock at the door.

You threw open the door and Yoongi blinked at you before glancing at what you were wearing.

“Shit.” You swear he said.

“What?” You weren’t sure why he had said that, but you were sure he had.

“I- uh- meant to bring snacks… for Jungkook.” He said suddenly not wanting to look directly at you, choosing to look past you to Jungkook instead.

“Oh its fine, we have plenty, he eats so much so I’ve stocked up.” You said as you let him in.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back but-”

“Its fine.” He shrugged.

“Jungkook. I’ll be back. Please be good. If you are we can get you more art supplies, alright.” You promised him a reward in hopes he would keep a level head at least for that.

“Okay Noona.” He agreed but didn’t seem exactly alright with it. You had no choice but to grab your bag and go.

Before you knew it you were sitting in a chair in your boss’ office just across his desk from him.

Kim Taehyung radiated power in his well fitted dress pants and crisp white dress shirt. Although you couldn’t see his shoes, you knew they were Gucci and probably cost more than your rent. He said nothing for a moment as he leaned back in his chair with his dark hair perfectly glossy and parted. A dark eyebrow lifted at you. You felt incredibly intimidated by his silence and something told you that that was what he wanted.

When he simply just said nothing you decided to try to explain yourself.

“I-I-I’m so sorry I’ve been taking care of someone lately and-”

“I don’t care.” His reply was simple but sharp.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“I still don’t care.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of his very fancy office chair.

“What I care about is progress, because progress is money, and money is happiness despite what people say. You haven’t been making progress this week. I’m going to be honest, normally you impress me with how much you get done especially at home, that’s why I let you work from home, although, I do miss your pretty face wondering around the office.”

You were stunned by his boldness, but you’d be lying to say you didn’t expect it from him.

“As I said though, money is happiness because there’s not a problem it can’t solve. Car broken down? Buy a new one. Loved one need taken care of? Pay someone to do it. Depressed? Pay for a top notch therapist. Need love? Buy it. Now, it seems like you have a problem of some kind preventing me from making more money, and I’m not happy if I’m not making money. I guess that means if you’re not happy then neither am I… so how much would it take to add on to your pay every week for you to make us both happy?” He leaned in to his desk, bringing himself menacingly closer.

“What?” You replied not expecting this meeting to go this way at all.

“Shall we talk it over during a very nice dinner at six tonight?”

“I- I-”

“Alright. Still live at the same address in your employee information you listed?”

“Y-yes?”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at five forty. You may go.”

“I- uhh- thank you sir.” You sputtered as you stood but he began fiddling with papers and ignoring you like you weren’t even in the room anymore.

You walked home stunned and wondering what the heck just happened.

“Noona!” Jungkook was happy to see you when you walked back into your apartment to see him watching tv with Yoongi.

“How was he?” You immediately asked.

“Fine, a little on edge and kept asking if you were coming back yet, almost had a meltdown, but it was fine. It’s good for him to be away from you sometimes. So, are you in trouble? He said you were going to het yelled at.”

“Uhh no actually? I… I got a raise I think.” You still weren’t even completely sure what had happened in there.

“For what?” Yoongi seemed just as baffled as you

“For slacking off? I’m not really sure. The meeting was strange. I have to discuss the raise with him tonight at dinner, apparently hes coming to get me at five forty tonight and I have no say so in it.”

“Huh.” Yoongi said “listen, he might be your boss but don’t let him make you do things you don’t want to or aren’t comfortable with.”

“I’m comfortable with going, it’s for more money so-”

“That’s… not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” You clearly didn’t get it.

“Go to dinner, it’s fine just… I don’t know… just don’t let him make you uncomfortable or anything. I just- I know how you are now that I know you and… never mind, you’re smart.”

You blinked at him wondering if he would elaborate further, but he didn’t.

“Okay.” You replied “so you’ll watch him tonight?”

“Of course I will. We’re working on his speaking, right Jungkook?” Yoongi looked him and Jungkook nodded.

“Thank you so much Yoongi.” You felt so grateful for all his help that you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him and locking him a tight hug.

He seemed a little stunned but he did bring his hands up to finally hug you back for a moment before you released him.

“You’re welcome.” He muttered “just make sure he knows it’s not a date, you know… unless…”

“No, no. It’s not going to be a date.” You said quickly with a laugh at the thought of dating that power hungry buffoon.

“Alright well I’ll see you both later tonight then.” With that Yoongi left.

“Noona, okay? Jungkook asked the moment you had closed the door.

“Of course.” You answered before sitting down beside him and taking a peek at what he was drawing.

You were shocked to see it was you. 

Every detail of your face was there on the paper but some how it looked so much better than you but you weren’t sure how.

Your mouth fell open and you looked at him.

He seemed kind of embarrassed as he tried to flip to a new page but you stopped him.

“That- that’s me!” You stated in awe.

“I- uh- I’m sorry.” He stuttered over his words as his face was going a bit red.

“No! Its amazing. Did you just draw my face from memory?” You were in utter awe but you were so flattered he would take the time to draw you and especially since he thought you looked like that

“Yes?”

“Its so good!” You smiled at him as you looked back down at the paper, scooting closer to him for a better look.

“You’re not…?” It seemed he couldn’t remember the word, but you did.

“I’m not upset, I’m delighted. You have so much talent. We have to get you more art supplies.” You reached up and patted his cheek tenderly.

“I- I missed you so… so I made you.” He explained looking like he was still hoping you weren’t mad and a little nervous.

“That’s sweet.” You grinned. You were glad he had found a way to cope with your absence in a creative way.

“You want? Not done… but you have?” He pointed to the page and offered it to you.

“You finish it first.” You urged and he nodded.

“So… so you leave again later?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, but Yoongi will be with you again if that’s alright. You like Yoongi, right?”

He nodded.

“But… not Jimin.”

You tilted your head at him. You had of course noticed this but you were now curious as to why.

“Why don’t you like Jimin?”

“Jimin is… he… looks…” he thought hard until let out a grunt of frustration at not being able to find the right words and you could tell this topic really bothered him.

“Hey, its okay.” You laid your hand on his arm as he brooded in frustration.

“Don’t like Jimin.” He muttered.

“That’s okay, I’m sure you have your reasons or you just don’t know him well enough yet. Either way, it’s okay.” You assured him before dropping it so he didn’t get anymore upset.

He relaxed as you made him some food and watched tv together for a while, he even laid his head on your shoulder for a while too and you let his soft deep colored hair tickle at your cheek as he did.

——

Your boss was right outside your apartment complex waiting for you at five forty on the dot.

Of course he drove a beautiful brand new sports car and of course he wore expensive looking clothes that were just a step more casual than his office attire. You wore a nice black dress that of course wasn’t Gucci.

The both of you didn’t really talk on the way there, you didn’t really know what to say to him anyway. The restaurant he took you to was as high class as you were expecting from him. It was all too much for your liking, but you were here for that raise not for the nice restaurant or your bosses company which was a good thing because he barely acknowledged your existence.

“So,” when he did finally speak he startled you with that deep, intimidating voice of his. Actually now that you thought about it, everything about him kind of reminded you of a super villain in real life form from his money to his posture to his presence.

He took a drink of wine and peered over the glass at you. “What would you do with a fifty percent raise?”

“I would…” as soon as you began to think about the hypothetical question, he spoke again.

“I was expecting you to be surprised and ecstatic, not tell me what you’d actually do with it.”

Of course.

Of course he actually meant it.

“Wait. You really plan on giving me a fifty percent raise? Why? I don’t deserve that- that’s- that’s a lot.” You were actually surprised.

“Depends.” He stared off towards the direction of the waiter.

“On?” you questioned.

“Would you like to keep me company for a few hours?” His question threw you off for a moment and confused you, you felt like he was speaking in riddles.

“But I just did, didn’t I?”

“Not this kind, sweetheart. Tell you what, you come with me to my house and we’ll see what comes of it and we’ll see whether you get your raise or not.” His smirk made you feel like the room had just gotten colder. It dissolved as he got the waitresses attention and asked for the check.

You got it.

Once it clicked in your brain, you were frozen.

You felt uncomfortable and Yoongi had told you not to let him make you uncomfortable, but what were you supposed to do?

Well, you could say no and leave.

“You could always say no.” He offered seeing you in shock. “But I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Why?” You asked but you were afraid to know.

“Because you could be making more than any other person on the marketing team… maybe more than on anyone on any marketing team in the city. I could make you head of marketing, your job would require less work and you’d be getting paid so much you won’t know what to do with it. Or…” he stared you down now “you could not have a job. I could fire you right now for any reason I wanted, you could never work in marketing again once I put your name out there along with all of your inadequacies. Hope you didn’t go to school too long for it.”

You felt sick.

You knew he could do it. You knew he had the power to.

He was one of the highest earning men in the city and here he was threatening to ruin your career.

It made your skin crawl.

Did you need the money, no, but you did need a job and you had worked yourself to death at university to be what you are now. You had invested the last couple of years in Kim Taehyung’s company.

You swallowed down your nervousness and everything in your body telling you to just get out of there, that it didn’t matter… but it did matter.

“H- how many times?”

“Just once.” He said “but lets hope your fucking isn’t as terrible as your conversational skills.”

At least he wasn’t terrible looking, but the crawling feeling your gut paid that no mind anyway.

—–

You stopped right before your apartment door for a moment as you tried to compose yourself before unlocking it and going in as quietly as you could. You thought maybe you could just sneak into your own apartment.

You were surprised to see Jungkook still awake with Yoongi though.

“Hey guys. Thanks for keeping him company, Yoongi.” You tried to get out before Jungkook jumped up to hug you and squeeze you to death.

You hoped that he wouldn’t say anything about how late it was.

“He wouldn’t go to sleep until you-” Yoongi was cut off by Jungkook poking your neck and examining it. You clapped your hand over it and Yoongi’s eyes narrowed

“Can we talk?” Yoongi’s friendly tone had completely changed.

“Um… uh… no. I’m pretty tired.” You lied.

“Is there something else wrong?” You already knew he knew, he probably did upon you walking in so late.

“Umm…” You didn’t know what to say, you were just standing there holding everything in. Right now, you just needed him out, you needed his judging eyes off of you.

Yoongi suddenly took you by the arm and told Jungkook to stay in here while he dragged you off into the kitchen.

“Are you alright?” Was the first thing he asked.

“I- uh, yeah.” You did your best to sound casual.

“Why did you do it?” Was his next question.

“Do what?”

“I see the mark on your neck, I know, okay? I told you not to let him make you feel-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine okay?!” You were beginning to feel irritated because talking about it only made your skin crawl more.

“It’s not.” He crossed his arms and stayed calm with you.

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Your reply was quick.

“Which is a huge red flag! What did he threaten you with? I know you’re not like that.”

“You don’t! You don’t know what I’m actually like okay?!” You whisper yelled at him but he just rolled his feline like eyes.

“You can’t be serious. I know you wouldn’t fuck your boss! It’s obvious you wouldn’t! You always want to do the right thing and-”

“Shut up Yoongi! You still don’t know me and I said I didn’t want to talk about it! Just leave, okay?!” How many times did you have to tell him? You just didn’t want to talk about it and you wanted him to leave it at that.

“Whatever.” He replied and stormed off out of the kitchen.

You reentered the lounge just in time to see him whispering something to Jungkook and he gave Yoongi a nod in return.

“I said leave, Yoongi.” You stood  firm and he did as you asked this time.

“Noona?” Jungkook said after Yoongi slammed the door behind him and you locked it.

“I’m going to have a shower.” You said angrily, you couldn’t take any more questions or judgement. Would Jungkook judge you though? Could he?

You scrubbed your skin red and raw attempting to get the scent of your boss’s expensive cologne off your skin, but it was burned into your brain, you couldn’t stop smelling it and it disgusted you further.

It wasn’t that he was bad in bed or even cruel or anything like that, you just hated yourself for sleeping with your boss when you didn’t want to, you hated that he had made you do it, that you had felt so pressured to give your body to him. Now your body didn’t feel like your own.

You wordlessly headed to bed and the moment you laid down you had to work harder to fight off the tears.

You continued to fight it more and more but you just couldn’t sleep.

And then you couldn’t fight the tears or disgust with yourself any more and began sobbing into your pillow.

“Noona?” There were soft knocks at your bedroom door.

“Noona okay?”

“I’m fine Bunny.” You called back just to get him to stop worrying, but you clearly weren’t fine and it was obvious in your voice and there was no hiding it.

Your door squeaked open.

“Not fine.” Jungkook whispered as you sniffled and tried to get yourself to stop crying. “Yoongi said noona not fine, take care of noona.”

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” You sniffled again as tears continued to flow down your eyes relentlessly.

“How do I take care noona? Noona take care of Bunny and… I don’t know how to care noona.” His brows knitted together and you read the desperation and sympathy on his face.

You began to cry again and felt the side of your bed sink in.

“Jungkook, just-”

He was lifting you up to just look at you. He seemed confused like he had never seen a person cry before, surely he had in his dramas, right? Or maybe he was just lost as to what to do for you.

His eyes followed a tear rolling down your cheek and he lifed a sleeved hand and wiped at your wet face.

“Cry. Sad? Why is noona sad? Work yell?”

That’s it, he didn’t understand why you were sad, and you weren’t about to tell the poor sweet soul.

“No, no.” You shook your head.

“Then why?”

His voice was quiet and as smooth as always like a melody, only this time it held a tinge of sadness.

“I- I can’t really explain.”

“That’s okay, it’s alright.” He told you what you remembered telling him a few times before, he was reassuring you.

“I know, Bunny.” You sniffled once more.

“I don’t like noona sad. It… it…” he put a hand on his heart and squeezed it into a fist in a swift and powerful motion. You realized what he was trying to tell you.

Heart crushing.

He thought it was heart crushing that you were sad.

You looked into his big, pretty brown eyes and you began to cry again and you didn’t know why. Just looking at him made the sadness, the guilt even heavier.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, he laid back taking you with him until you were laying directly on top of him, head on his chest with his arms wrapped around you. You willingly cried on him. It was an intimate position, it probably would’ve given you a heart attack had he done this at any other time, but you didn’t concentrate on that right now. It didn’t feel strange or foreign at all to you, it felt warm and comforting and safe. You thought about how it was the exact opposite with you boss not long ago. Jungkook helped to take the feelings away, to cancel them out with his warm breath on the top of your head and arms holding you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay noona. No more sad. It’s okay.” He whispered quietly to you. “Noona is good person, noona is kind, noona cares. It’s okay.”

Your brain flip-flopped at his reassurances, Maybe he did know.

He just kept whispering kind things to you, anything and everything he could say until your sobs quieted.

[happiness4jane]

The Scariest Thing I’ve Ever Done

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Well, this is terrifying. Paralyzing almost. My hands are literally trembling as I try to punch the letters on my keyboard. When I allow myself to think about the people that might read this. People I know. People I work with. Students I teach. Students I’ve taught. My soon-to-be-in-laws. My exes. Their families (they’ll say, “I told you so!”). My friends. Their friends. My family. My children. All 836 of my Facebook “friends” are potential critics. And they’ll share it with even more people that might know me or will know me, that see me around and will avoid making eye contact with me in Walmart forevermore! When I allow myself to think about that – the people that might read this – every self-doubting, loathing, shaming, insecure demon inside me surfaces in protest. BUT… but. That’s the point, after all. For people to read this. To maybe help others claw their way out of the uncompromising, crippling, and degenerative grasp of the illness known as Bipolar Disorder (no, but seriously, this scares the shit out of me and I can’t breathe).

Here’s the thing though – I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. It isn’t fair we live in a society that shames people with mental illness into silence. That calls us “crazy”. We can’t just snap our fingers and make it go away (but, oh, if I could!). We can’t just act normal, act rational. It’s not something we can tame on command. And we didn’t choose this. Who would choose this?! Who would choose to leave behind a legacy of wreckage? Well, I don’t doubt there are some who’d choose that… As for me, when I think on all the destroyed relationships, the lost jobs, the unfinished projects and departed dreams, the reckless moments that would haunt me for years, the countless days stolen away by infinite darkness… the shame, the shame, the shame – I would never choose this. And yet, despite all the chaos and ruin and regret, it took me about twenty years to get help. Why? The simple answer is, I didn’t want to be Bipolar. I didn’t want people to think I was crazy (Ha! Like they didn’t already!). So, I refused to accept it. I refused to seek treatment. And it got worse. Much, much worse.

About seven months ago, after another life-is-amazing-and-I-don’t-need-to-sleep-and-I’ll-hyper-focus-and-finish-that-novel-and-train-for-that-marathon-and-FUCK!-you-better-stop-getting-in-my-way-or-I’ll-bite-your-damn-head-off-so-feed-yourself elevated state (Symptoms of a manic episode: increased activity, energy or agitation; decreased need for sleep; abnormally upbeat) followed inevitably by a crashing-into-bed-and-plotting-out-the-details-of-my-exit-because-I-just-can’t-live-in-this-world-anymore-and-I’m-worthless-and-horrible-and-you’d-all-be-better-off-without-me depressed state (Symptoms of a major depressive episode: feelings of sadness, emptiness, hopelessness; marked loss of interest in activities; fatigue; feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt; thinking about, planning, or attempting suicide), I sought the help of a counselor. So, what changed, you might be wondering? What made me seek treatment at this point, after shunning it for so many years? Well, it used to be that I had normal periods of time between the depression and the elevation. It used to be fun and ambitious and productive (euphoric but always beguiling) to be elevated. It used to be the depression came maybe a couple times a year. The unwarranted distrust and insecurity and ultra-sensitivity was fleeting. The suicidal thoughts were daunting rather than soothing. That’s what used to be. It was easier to pretend I was normal then. I was just eccentric! I was special! Like some of the greatest artists and inventors and individuals that made history. I was a mad genius just like Salvador Dali, Vincent Van Gogh, Charlie Chaplin, Ben Franklin, Sir Isaac Newton, Michelangelo (Symptom: exaggerated sense of self). I was able to ride that train of twisted thought for a long long time, because I could finish what I started then, because I was younger then, and there was always another job, another lover, another place that would accept me. But around seven years ago, that all began to change. The depression seized more frequently. The elevation became less euphoric and more agitated, even rageful at times – lashing out at and rejecting the people I loved most. I started projects but never finished them. It became more and more difficult to go to work, and when I got there, I had to convince myself out of the car and into the classroom. In the classroom, I felt like an alien. I couldn’t stay on track, couldn’t focus my thoughts (Symptom: rapid and frenzied speaking, racing thoughts). I felt like I was disconnected from everything around me, like I wasn’t real (Symptom: dissociation). And then over the past year, the episodes seemed to be crashing right on top of each another with no reprieve in-between. It was relentless, crippling. One day of unbridled energy followed by two days of extreme irritability followed by one day of bed-ridden depression and then rinse, lather, repeat. Weeks, months, a year like this. The darkness that occasionally consumed my thoughts mutated to a pervasive utter blackness – leaving a void where hope and happiness used to visit. My fiancé pleading with me to get out of bed. My 10-year-old son asking me why I was so angry. My six-year-old daughter saying, “Mommy’s sick again.” I hated myself. I couldn’t pretend I was perfectly healthy – just eccentric – anymore. I was sick. Very sick.

You see, Bipolar Disorder is a degenerative illness, and by denying myself treatment, I had enabled a progression into periods of rapid cycling, meaning I was basically Bipolar on steroids – my depressive and manic moods shifting in a constant unpredictable shitstorm. This is the way it was explained to me by my counselor (in much more eloquent terms). She said that in the same way progressive diseases like Cancer will eventually cause organ failure if left untreated, Bipolar Disorder gradually diminishes brain function if left untreated. Oh, did I mention this conversation took place just a month ago? And, perhaps you remember that I went to see her the first time about seven months ago? No, it didn’t take that long to diagnose me. It took that long for me to commit. I honored my appointments only twice before I disappeared for another two months and then for another five months after that (I was still battling my desperate desire to be “normal”). During those initial appointments, I either purposefully omitted the symptoms of my elevated states, or honestly didn’t know they were elevated states. Hard to tell. On the one hand, for most of my life the elevated states were something to look forward to. They were a tremendous relief since they often followed a long period of depression, or, they were a welcome rush of intense energy and focus and ambition after a period of normal moods and routines. On the other hand, there was a part of me that hoped, if I had to be diagnosed with something, that it be depression and/or anxiety – just not Bipolar, please, not that! For some totally illogical reason, having depression and anxiety seemed more socially acceptable to me. People posted about their depression and anxiety on social media. My students openly discussed their struggles with them in class. Lot’s of people are depressed and anxious! Poor reasoning but, I convinced myself that my elevated states were just “normal” times when I wasn’t depressed. After all, I didn’t behave like someone that was manic. I was nothing like Bradley Cooper’s character in “Silver Linings Playbook”! I didn’t suddenly become totally irrational. I didn’t spend everything in my bank account in some obsessed frenzy. I didn’t abruptly start making good on all my wildest fantasies and desires. I didn’t incoherently speed-talk and jump around from one interest to another. No, it was never that pronounced. Or, was it? I’d certainly been called Bipolar enough in my lifetime – and not in a concerned or encouraging way. More like I was being called a “crazy bitch”. It was a bad word. And I did spend [a lot] more money than I should when I felt “good”. Like, when I bought that boat with a personal loan on a 50% interest rate. Or, when I financed that international trip while negative in my bank account. And on all that professional camera equipment when I decided to be a video editor, and on this website two years ago when I decided to be a blogger (Perhaps, now, I’ll finally make use of it?). And the hundreds of dollars I invested in gear when I was suddenly inspired to run a marathon (but I did follow through on that one, thank you very much!). Oh, right, I guess I do jump around from interest to interest when I’m feeling “inspired”. I’m going to be a motivational speaker, no, a novelist, no, a personal trainer, no, a corporate trainer, no, a filmmaker, no, an entrepreneur, no… the list goes on and on. But these things felt so good. Even though I had to clean up the wreckage whenever I smashed back down on the pavement. The rubble of estranged relationships, busted bank accounts, retired jobs. So yeah, I went with depression and anxiety, masking the symptoms of mania. And I refused medication (because all I really needed to do was get my shit together, not numb myself with zombie-making pills). Until the progression to rapid cycling imprisoned me and I sulked, defeated, back into therapy five weeks ago.

After years and years and years of heartbreak and rejection and confusion and self-loathing and denial and protest, I began taking a daily mood stabilizer and seeing my therapist once a week. It took a couple weeks before there was any discernable change, and after four weeks, the change in my behavior was nothing short of striking. At that point, I realized I hadn’t been swallowed by the black void in three full weeks – a record time in nearly a year. I hadn’t lashed out in rage at anyone either. And the most surprising thing? I wasn’t the living dead. I had heard these nightmare testimonies about people with Bipolar Disorder beginning medication and going numb, like they’d been lobotomized, and that panicked me. I didn’t want to stop feeling, I just wanted to experience my feelings in a regulatory fashion. And I was, for the first time in years. Now, I want to be very careful not to sound like the poster girl for medicating. My strong belief is that we over-medicate in this country (but that’s for another post). No miracle has occurred. I’m not “cured”. In fact, there is no known cure for Bipolar Disorder. It can be managed, with a combination of medication and psychotherapy. Some days are better than others. But every day, I still battle my demons and the life-long conditioning of patterns, emotional reactions, and behaviors. My recovery is a continuous journey where no arrival point exists. But I have hope today. I wake up motivated to get out of bed without needing the boost of mania. I carry out the responsibilities and routines of the day without fighting off panic or becoming despondent. I fall asleep without the “lulling” melody of my own death dancing around my thoughts. Yes, I still get anxious and angry and sad and overly eager. The difference is in the way I’ve responded to those feelings since starting treatment. My awareness of the condition and the symptoms that accompany it, along with my medication, has helped me acknowledge my feelings before acting on them.

I hope it’s not the honeymoon period. I hope it lasts.

It’s early yet.

But if this remarkable change is here to stay [with dedicated treatment], I can’t help but feel frustration with myself for not seeking help sooner. Just to think on all the chaos and anguish I could have spared myself and others… But I’m here now, and perhaps it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be – writing this blog so that you may read it and be inspired to act now. For yourself, or for someone you know, before it’s too late. Make no mistake, this disease does kill. The suicide rate for people with Bipolar Disorder is twenty times that of the general population, and nearly 30% will make a suicide attempt at least once in their lifetime.

Don’t pity me, and please don’t fear me. I’m not very different from you. I have a family, friends, a career, hopes and dreams and struggles and fears. For those of you that know me, I’m still Jen. Maybe I’m even a better Jen – my greater and more genuine self. As a society, we need to reframe the way we perceive and speak about mental illness. Help me promote a fair image for those individuals and families that are afflicted with it – so they won’t suffer in silence. So they get help.

My name is Jen Hogue, and I’m diagnosed Bipolar II. Today, I’m in treatment. I take my medication everyday and see my counselor every week. I have a sense of hope that I haven’t had in far too long. I still don’t know if I’ll be brave enough to publish this. But I hope I will. After all, it’s often in the greatest risks we take that we find our greatest triumphs, and our greatest gifts to one another.  

[hauntedbyvisionsof-flight]

A Crush

Day 2 of the Medda Crusade! Medda helps Smalls with her feelings.

“Miss Medda?” a small voice called.

Medda stood and walked towards the direction the voice had come from. She emerged into the theatre outside her office and saw a small girl standing in the middle of the aisle.

“Well, hello, sugar!” Medda greeted Smalls. She crumpled her hat in her hands, but gave Medda a smile anyways.

“Hi, Miss Medda.”

“What brings you to my theatre?” the older woman asked. “Is someone after you?”

Smalls laughed. “Nah. I’se too slick to get caught by those Delancey oafs. I ain’t like Jackie-boy, I got skills.”

Medda laughed with her. “Well, I’m glad to hear that! Would you like some tea?”

Hesitantly, Smalls nodded. Medda led the way back into her office. Smalls took a seat as Medda pulled out a tea set and set the kettle on the small stove. Medda busied herself preparing the tea while Smalls looked around the office in awe. Sure, she’d been in here a few times, but there was still a lot to see. Newspaper clippings about the theatre and high school covered the walls, along with a few pictures of the students who had grown up and moved on in the theatre wall. There was even the TONY winner Jeremy Kelly, Jack’s older brother up on the wall.

“So, Smalls, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Smalls snapped out of her thoughts and took the cup of tea Medda was offering her. She blew on the hot drink before taking a sip and grimacing.

“I kinda have a problem that the boys can’t help me with.”

Medda’s eyebrows rose as the girl reached for a sugar cube. “Is it about . . . things in your . . .” she looked at Small’s pants, “down there?”

Smalls looked up, surprised. She cocked her head in confusion for a split-second until her brain made the connection. “OH! Oh, no, Bird and Rebel already explained that to me years ago. I’m in high school, Miss Medda, I’ve been handling periods for a while.”

Medda’s eyebrows rose. “Bird and Rebel told you?”

“Well, mostly Rebel,” Smalls said, stirring the sugar into her drink. “Bird didn’t look like she enjoyed it too much. But Rebel told me all about how the blood is my body gettin’ ready for a baby and if a boy comes toward you to run away and how babies are made-”

“Okay, honey, seems like you’re good on that front then,” Medda said. Miss Medda could handle a lot of things, but blood was not often one of them. “So what was it you were wanting to talk about?”

Smalls looked down at her teacup and stirred it slowly. She was acting bashful, something Medda had rarely seen in the young girl.

“Smalls?”

“I kinda have a crush.”

Medda’s eyebrows rose and she let out a pearly laugh. Smalls’ head snapped up and she stared at Medda quizzically. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Medda said. “Who is it?” She had a pretty good idea, but she wanted Smalls to confirm it.

“Nuh uh,” Smalls said. “Not tellin.’ He can’t know.”

Medda’s laughter turned into a small smile. “Alright, then.”

“I just,” Smalls started. “I really like him! And everyone teases the two of us about getting together, but I don’t want to do that because what if we break up and we’re not friends anymore? I don’t want to lose my friendship with him because of a stupid crush!” The teen huffed and fell back against the chair.

“How old are you, Smalls?” Medda asked.

“‘Sixteen. Why?”

“That’s perfectly normal for a girl your age,” Medda said. “Healthy, even.”

“Not for me,” Smalls murmured.

“What?” Medda asked.

“I haven’t had a crush since fourth grade, Miss Medda. I don’t know what to do with it! I like not having crushes, it makes life so much easier!”

Medda ‘hmm’d noncommittally, knowing Smalls had more to say.

“And I’m not supposed to have crushes! I got more important things to do! I gotta get my GPA up so I can get scholarships to college, and I gotta go to college, and I gotta get a job this summer and I barely have time to look out for myself, much less another person and-”

“Whoa, whoa, Smalls,” Medda stopped her. “You’re sixteen, honey. College isn’t for two or three more years. Why are you so stressed?”

Smalls shrugged. “Dunno. Just can’t get it out of my mind.”

“Is that really why you think you can’t handle a relationship?” Medda prodded.

Damn her, Smalls thought. Damn her and her perfect intuition. “No.”

Medda sat silently, waiting for her to continue.

“Medda . . .”

“Spit it out, honey,” Medda said. “Its okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t think I want to admit it,” Smalls said. “If I say it it’s true.”

Medda chuckled. “Words are powerful, but not that powerful. Go ahead and tell me.”

Smalls took a long sip of tea. “I’m unlovable.”

Medda’s eyebrows rose. “Who told you that?”

Smalls shrugged. “No one. I just know.”

“Victoria,” Medda said. She crossed the room and gathered the small girl in her arms. “That’s not true. Not at all.”

Smalls let out a wet laugh. “Well, nobody ever tells me otherwise. Least’a’ways, they don’t mean it. They say it all the time, but they don’t mean it. Just sayin’ it.”

“When you say it to your friends, do you mean it?” Medda asked, turning Smalls’ head to look her in the eyes.

Smalls’ eyes flickered to the floor. “I- I- yeah.”

“Then why wouldn’t they?” she asked.

Smalls shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Smalls, where is this coming from?” Medda asked. “I know it’s more than what you’re telling me.”

Smalls shrugged. “Y’know how Davey got diagnosed with depression a bit ago?” Medda nodded. “I think I might have it too. And since then it’s just gotten worse, and I can’t think right.”

Medda squeezed her tighter. “Do you want me to set up an appointment for you with David’s therapist? I can make it right after his, and he’ll probably be able to give you a ride.”

“Really?” Smalls asked. “That’d be great. Thanks, Miss Medda.” She burrowed herself into the woman’s chest in gratitude.

“No problem,” Medda laughed. “Now scoot along, I know you’re late for your next class.”

Smalls stood and grabbed her back, running back through the theatre.

“And don’t worry! I won’t tell Tommy Boy!” Medda shouted to her retreating form. Immediately Smalls froze and looked back at Medda. Medda chuckled and walked back into her office to begin prepping for the next lesson.

Tag List:

@albertdasilva  @albertslamb  @actually-races-erster  @alixismad 

@ben-cook-can-cook  @thebookofbella  @broadwayandbookblog  @brooklyns-here-enthusiast  @bwaysrose 

@daeynore  @daveys-pet-snake   @delanceys-pantsies  @djrebeldr 

@elmers-half-a-cup  @esyazzmean 

@fandomscraziness22 

@heytheywascoronas 

@ishouldprobablyworkoutmore  @i-got-personality 

@livingdeadmeme   

@marvelmerlinao3  @mcoomcoo 

@newsieofnj  @nymphadoratonksx 

@racetrackscigar  @races-cigar  @races-erster    @rebecko 

@santafeis mycity @thesmallestbi   @spot--conlon  @stuckinmyneverendingheadspace  @sparkleystallion  @spracetrack-higgins 

@thatshiscigar 

@wetcoffeee 

[horrible-monstrosity]

Those last three episodes of Steven Universe: a mini-essay

JUST FUCK ME UP

kevin party, donner party, what's the differenfe

hey guys, remember when lion disappeared? i legitimatedly don't. he ran off with connie or something and even though lars is probably in mortal peril and lion's the only way to get to him... naw don't need him. even though now steven's all worried bout lion he didn't give a shit enough earlier to search for him just for lion's own sake. nothing matters.

the party sadie and co fucked off to in the last episode and the tit-ular kevin party are not one and the same. why not? because none of this matters. nothing fucking matters. just... some stuff happens and none of it ever fucking lines up or amounts to fucking anything. why is this show still airing?

Kevin thinking Steven's name is Clarence is the best if not only joke this show has produced in the last like twenty episodes. Or thirty. How long has this season been going for? How many episodes does this show have?...

kevin is allergic to dog but lion is still here ok. the joke is he think lion it dog but the fact he hasn't like broke out in hives should maybe tell him something?.......

So the crux of this episode is, Kevin gives Steven this patriarchal man male romantic advice which basically amounts to "have a good time and don't be a sniveling soyball" and is entirely reasonable. But since this is Steven fucking Universe, it's clearly absolutely fucking terrible. I mean, maybe it's not the perfect solution for *this* particular situation, but why the fuck would he know that? Is he supposed to read Steven and Connie's fucking minds? Why does the feminist solution to problems so commonly require the male reading peoples' fucking minds? It's a perfectly fucking reasonable piece of general advice, and Kevin even seems to be at least the littlest bit actually concerned about Steven's love life issues beyond getting the cool quantum-tranny Stevonnie at his party... but no, he's gotta be wrong, because he's the designated small-time patriarchal oppressor and 84opposition to the gender revolution.

connie assumes that steven doesn't want to talk to her not because she's been bitching at him and been doing shit like accusing him of being friends with kevin leaving him to wonder what he's done wrong... but because he's friends with kevin, obviously. female accountability and logic at 0%

kevin doesn't know how to friends. are we supposed to hate him or feel sorry for him? ... never mind, both of those options are equally depressing with the way the show treats him.

connie likes steven's maximum soy pink polo shirt, because the way to get grils is to treat yourself like a defective woman who needs re-estrogenizing and soy yourself up. just fucking go cry at her and wear the soy clothes she bought you and drip snot upon her. bitches love snot and then even though steven said kevin had his heart broken and it looks like they have some sympathy for him connie goes "lol ofc he did" and he falls in the pool and they shit on him. fuck this gay earth the rebellion was a mistake homeworld did nothing wrong

So... what the fuck was the conflict here again? Seems like the only thing keeping Steven and Connie from making up was bad timing and mutual awkwardness. Did anyone learn anything from this, aside from Steven discovering he needs to get even more soyful if he wants to inject his gem cummies into a strong big-nosed short-haired minority female someday? Did any of this fucking matter?

Also, I've no idea if this is just fan conjecture or what, but apparently the "Sabina" (because yeah that's a name normal people hsve) who fucked Kevin up is actually the le mysterious pink-haired person mute lesbo who hit it off with Pearl forever ago and probably showed up again at some point in the last X episodes but I don't fucking remember it. You... you... how did you manage to make this even worse? So not only is Kevin terrible and wrong and evil for existing, and for hitting on hot five-gendered quasi-minority manchicks at parties, and for giving reasonable advice... he hit on a thicc pink turbo-lesbo and we're supposed to hate him for that, too. Just... how the fuck do I put this? It's like... stupid fucking cis straight normal fucking a white male, thinking this world is full of other normal people like yourself- the real Earth's population is 99% minority queer demigender faggosexuals, how dare you think you can get into a normal heterosexual relationship with a female of the species? He tried some normal human courtship instead of feminist-approved all-gendered-yet-female-oriented interactions fit only for mentally-deficient degenerate aliens, so he deserved to have his heart trampled on. She's a stryng fymyle fat womyn person, you fucking piece of shit, not some thing for you to treat like (an object/your property/an animal/whatever) by treating her like a normal human being. You're shit, normies are shit, and treating a transcendant gender-goddyss as equal to yourself is oppressive. Or... some fucking shit like that. fuck i don't know whatever

-

c'mon plot it's time to go the fuck back into space already!!! It occurs to me that Connie (probably, I don't fucking know) knew all this time Lars was trapped in spacedanger and Lion was the only thing Steven or anyone else on Earth could use to rescue him, but she decided to fuck off with him anyway. Because why? Because her selfish little emotional snit over Steven valuing her life is more important than Lars' own fucking life? Remind me, why are we supposed to like Connie again? Also why did Lion stay with her this entire time anyway? Usually he just fucks off and does whatever he wants. He never wandered back to Steven?

Connie immediately shows her ignorance and downplays the situation as a fun and funny adventure, steven and connie in space o ho ho! an attitude which hey you know might be conducive to PEOPLE THINKING YOU'RE NOT FUCKING FIT TO HANDLE YOURSELF IN SPACE AND THEY SHOULD LEAVE WITHOUT YOU TO PROTECT YOU... Pretty fucking retarded thing to say after all that bitching about... no, wait a minute, Connie never said anything about being treated like Steven's equal or being coddled, did she? I mean, she barely said anything about anything because this was an underdeveloped aborted fetus of an arc, but the entire crux of this disagreement really was just... #

god fluorite still creeps me the fuck out. She's basically some magna-tranny that's gone through eight different transitions of like three genders each and gained a new fat roll for each one. Is this supposed to make me like "diverse" people? Because it's not working. Every single second of her vocal drone grating across my eardrums makes me want ever more to perpetuate a holocaust against the legbutt people. Eugh. two children are all we need to save lars, don't bother bringing garnet or any of those other fucking main characters we have lying around or anything naw fuckit

On some level I almost enjoy how few fucks Lars has come to give, even doing shit like spouting the aesop he was just given as a kewl one-liner as he (kind of) trounces the bad guy... but still, it's all off-screen development that raises a lot of questions. Maybe it's just the change in environment and the lack of anyone to try and impress (the shitgems sure as hell aren't the cool kids) that's brought this out of him- that almost makes sense, but there's nothing indicating that's the case... or anything's the case, really. Maybe it's just some kind of tangential stockholm syndrome where I'm happy to see something actually fucking happening, I don't fucking know.

also how did they steal the ship? they """explain""" but... they really don't. They're just that good because take our word for it lars is really happy for those clean pants. how much did he shit himself over the past couple weeks

And then shit gets terrible again. Lars is more triggered over sadie than his own parents... because of fucking course he is. No, she wasn't worried sick, she was faffing around whining about having to do your work for you or having to work at all and then fucking quitting her job to go become a marxist rock guitarist. Hey, remember the purple cake incident? Lars was legitimately fucked up over his social anxiety and his inability to hang with the cool kids despite wanting so badly to do so, so Sadie just fucking around with them like it's nothing because she really is barely worried about his wellbeing... yeah, I think that shit's gonna fuck him up a little bit.

But no, Steven basically just... tells him to get the fuck over it. Because, like, he's not there so she can do whatever the fuck she wants, immediately. Fuck is this shit? Like all of five minutes into the episode Steven just starts fucking explaining this shitty twisted aesop to both Lars and the audience. Yeah man, you go die in space, your gf can immediately go do everything you ever angsted over with ease and I'll come rub it in your face and you should just fucking get over it because u totes love her that much, lol. *You* aren't entitled to your own emotions.

Oh and then Steven compares Sadie's faffing to Lars's fucking comandeering a space ship in order to keep himself alive. Because the woman's feelsies are equivalent to the man's fucking life. Guys, what the fuck am I watching?...

I think this is one of those... things... this show does, where it at first vaguely approaches something that would pass for a normal human cognitive outputting, but then turns, farts in your face like that sexy alien from Star Wars and flits off like Tinkerbell leaving you confused and asmellied. Where in an attempt to create an unthought new aesop never before cognizized by mankind it ends up with a bizarre twisted mess.

At the very least Steven maybe shoulda thought twice before bringing some of those photos. "Oh, look how well your abusive not-gf has been doing without you! Befriending everyone you ever wanted to befriend but couldn't because you need a fucking therapist! Yeah that'll make him feel better". Hey, remember when Steven was empathic, you guise? I mean that being thrown the fuck out was part of what defines this arc, but come on...

It also severely hurts the thing that it's played out so fast. Lars is #triggered by the photos, okay, but then Steven immediately gets on his case and REEEEEs at him for... trying to destroy Sadie's something or other, because I don;t fucking know feminism is the radical idea that a man's emotional freedom is so disgusting it'll destroy a pure beautiful deserving woman from a distance of a thousand light-years in a fucking instant- Calm your fucking tits, Steven Sugar, we're in the middle of fucking space, Lars has no way of destroying Sadie's whatever the fuck it was he was supposed to be destroying. Let him have his knee-jerk reaction. Also, all of a week or a month away from your best friend slash romantic interest is enough you should expect she's moved on from you completely. Okay.

... Hey, wait a minute, I thought Kevin Praty taught us that sniveling was the way to get all the pretty wymyn? What might have changed between then and now, a difference of one entire episode? ... No, really, I have no fucking clue. This time, the contradiction is so fucking incoherent I can't even turn it into "because Sugar and feminists like her place female emotions above all else". The only way I can see it is if shitting on certain types of males is equal to or higher than muh womans, as the Kevin Party incident was twisted specifically to work at Kevin's expense. ... It's funny how this runs completely opposite what I'd think most people would find healthy. If the person you're hurt over is nowhere fucking near you then get it out of your system, but don't go dumping all your emotional baggage on them at a fucking party. This show wants us to bottle up our emotions when there's no fucking reason to at all but mainline emotional diarrhea in the most inappropriate of situations. what is this shit?

lol the crew are made so fucking useless just by a single fucking photo phone just take it from him One of the shitgems calls Stevvie "friends"... plural. they aren't a singular "they". SOC JUS FAUX PAS

man i can;t believe stevonnie;s fucking dead to bad the show ended here guys i guess homeworld can just go take over the world now. it's better this way

-

This was apparently some sort of special event called "Stranded", but the stranding only lasts one episode. Oooooookay.

This one is entirely just a nitpick, but I find it so strangely interesting from a writing perspective that I just can't leave it out... The "everything is broken" joke is like three lines long and two lines two long. Stevonnie is like, man what's broken and we're shown the readout from the ship showing everything flashing red, okay... and then she's like, ohhh man wow look almost everything it broken?? who expect that ha ha. And then she says, at least the screen works... and that immediately gets broken. Ha haaaaa. I dunno bout you, but I woulda laughed more if they'd just cut it short- have Stevonnie see the screen and go "oh, everything" or even just "oh", in that high-pitched, slightly breathy tone of voice that says "well, shit". Then crash. Boom, short sweet and to the point and gives you like ten more seconds this episode to spend on the plot of the epi- oh wait

Stevonnie is stranded on spaceplanet because no communications, but... xei have magic. Just... shoot some magic fireworks or start a magic fire for smoke signals. Or a normal fire, even. If the problem is that random new green gem will also find you if you do this... actually mention that. Steven and Connie don't even seem to consider sending a physical signal of any kind, even though it should be an obvious idea.

And then Stevenconnie just... finds a random alien species? And casually eats it? This... this just raises so many questions... Throughout the entire run of this show up until this date, the only alien species we've seen has been the gems. The center of the entire show, something that's been continually developed (if not consistently, coherently or well)- there's a decent amount of thought put into how these lifeforms that're completely unlike anything on Earth function, both in biology and society, with some degree of interplay between the two. The show was kept focused on the effects of Rose's rebellion and events related to it, and we avoided all the extra thought, logic and possible scientific plot holes that would be brought into existence by trying to create and balance multiple forms if alien life from multiple different origins. But now they just... dumped this stuff on in there? Because why

This is at once the first new alien species we've seen since the very beginning of the show, the first organic species, the first animalistic/non-sentient species, and the first found in it's alien habitat... and not only are a fucking bunch of them all introduced at once, they're thrown in casually and Stevonnie fucking eats most of them. What the fuck? There's no thought put into these things either, they're just a bunch of wacky squacky animals mainly comprised of random Earth animal parts. There's no logic to how they work, why they exist, how they evolved like this, they're just... wacky funny animals for no reason. Fuck you. After the series up until this point has focused on developing one species with an entirely different biology, history and culture from humans, with all of those things to at least some degree influencing or connected to each other, seeing these critters introduced just at random with no logic or context is incredibly jarring. This was such a fucking bad idea...

Also Stevonne eats the fucking fruits and animals and drinks the water because all planets just have human-compatible food species and good old motherfucking H2O I guess

stevonnie has more stubble than steven ever did because i hate life and i hate everything. this is disgusting. It's even distributed weirdly; instead of being on ziouir's chin it spreads up either side of zoidrgh's face and actually on to the cheeks. And we just have to see it's fugly little cheekstubble for the entire fucking rest of the episode. gagh

And then we get to this... really weird dream sequence where some really weird writing decisions are made. It starts off in Connie's house with Connie's mom... uh, rising up out of the carpeting, but Stevonnie identifies them as "my house" and "my mom". Stevonnie is both Steven and Connie, but given we're used to Steven being the main character and usual viewpoint throughout the entire series this comes off as though it's Steven saying this is "his house/mom". But, you know, they're not. And for any fan who's not devoted enough to commit to memory which character's household interior this is, it's misleading until Connie's mom shows up and then confusing after that. Why the fuck did the writers decide to write the scene like this? Why not have Stevonnie go "my, uh, your, uh, Connie's house" or some shit? Or just remove this part entirely because it gets really weird when the mom starts talking about EXTERMINATING ORGANIC LIFE and setvonnie notices nothing. Then the mom turns into this... weird brownwashed minority fusion version of YD with a big ol' jellyglob of Conmom's hair slapped onto the back of her head. What is this shit? if you're going to make it a meaningful dream you can't just do random shit like that. stop mixing messages. Just... stop. why did they choose to do this, and with Conmom specifically? If it's supposed to imply PD and YD's relationship is like Connie and her mom's... well first of all, that doesn;t fucking work because PD is nothing like Connie at all. But ignoring that, if it's supposed to imply YD is some sort of a parental figure to PD... why Connie's mom? She's not particularly important, and we don;t know her all that well. If it's not a comparison to her specifically and it's just that she parent... why Connie;s mom? Of all the parental figures in the show, because... I don't know, this is dumb fuck this

Though once that shit stops I actually almost like this dream sequence. Having our main character taking the place of PD in the dream, reliving her memories, it not being clear we "are" PD and that Stevonnie is acting out this memory rather than acting under xfer own will until we get to the mirror scene, where Stevonnie punches the reflection of PD while their own appearance remains the same... that's pretty fucking nice. This might also be a manifestation of that Stockholm syndrome I mentioned earlier, though. PD wants things and is frustrated with her current situation. She tries to get what she wants by bitching at someone else to give it to her, sure, but the way she storms off on her own and punches the mirror implies she wants to change things, there's just something holding her back. She has a trajectory. Apparently the fnadom hates her for being a brat, but I almost like her. ..... bets are open on how long it takes for the writers to completely fuck this up.

and then steven and connie just go home and who fucking cares nothing mattersfuck this show

... It seems the fandom has latched on to PD being an off-color because she's small (because height is a color what the fuck is that term why is it that). Like the rich family that hides their embarrassing retarded offspring in the basement, I guess. (i still crackship lars with kevin by the way)

[meanwhileinoz]

10+ Misconceptions About Mental Illness Need To Be Cleared Up Right Now

Mental illness is a myriad of conditions that appear in different ways. Moreover, because of the constant misinterpretation of mental illness on social media. Mental illness is often misunderstood.

Therefore, to inspire a more positive discussion on mental illness, here are a few anecdotes to clarify the confusion:

Depression comes with a mask.

I have depression. People don’t believe me because I appear outgoing and gregarious in social situations, but it’s just a large coping mechanism and something I need to do in many cases for client meetings and gatherings and such.

It’s exhausting. I’m drained and many times feel horrible afterward. I wish people knew that just because you appear happy or content on the outside, you can still be the opposite on the inside. Many people with depression go to great lengths to disguise or mask it, which makes it all the more difficult for others to see that there’s something wrong.

– ldn6

The intricacies of Mental health.

Mental Health is a spectrum. It’s extremely unlikely that any one person is 100% Mentally Healthy, and it’s unlikely that they’re the opposite. The  U.S. Department of Health and Human Services estimates only about 17% of adults are in a state of “optimal” mental health.

Just because you may have an issue though, doesn’t mean that you’re spiraling and unhealthy. Much like a physical health issue, a single episode isn’t the end of the world. – (Source)

Dispelling the ADHD myth.

ADHD; it DOES exist, and it’s not just about looking at squirrels outside the window.

And we’re not just seeking stimulants. Many of us hate taking medication because it makes us into zombies that can barely function and choose to deal with the symptoms of the condition rather than take Adderall or any other pills. – willflungpoo & Ketrel

Bipolar disorder needs to be understood better.

Usually when you say ‘I’m bipolar’, you get odd responses from either a) the people that think you are this rabid psycho bouncing off the walls one second and is dangerously suicidal literally the next second or b) the people who think “bipolar” is a normal, quirky personality trait. You know the kind: “you’re bipolar? me too! I’m so damn emotional all the time.”

I simply try to explain it to people as best as I can with a metaphor I came up with once: It’s not a balanced, steady rollercoaster of emotions, that most people experience and enjoy. It’s also not a rollercoaster that does 60 loops in a row, derails and explodes onto the ground below. it’s more of a rollercoaster that goes too high up with a bit too much energy and then gives everybody really bad whiplash when they drop to the bottom of the ride over and over until it’s too much.

The metaphor is kinda dumb at not completely accurate, but it just helps people understand better.

– zapsquad

Mental health and crime do not correlate.

Some people have an inherit fear of others who suffer from a Mental Illness. The media over-sensationalizes the effects of Mental Illness to a point where it seems that crimes are only committed by people who suffer from it.

This is completely untrue, as the American Psychological Association found that only 7.5% of crimes are directly related to Mental Illness.

– (Source)

Depression is not an illusion.

Depression.

“But you don’t have anything to be depressed about, sweetie.”

That’s like saying, ‘But you can’t have asthma! This room is full of air!’

– kernunnos77 & eeyore102

The importance of decreasing stigma.

Mental Health affects everyone. Research estimates that 1 in 5 people experience mental illness in their lives. So even if you aren’t suffering from it, someone you know might be suffering.

This is why it’s so important to decrease a stigma about Mental Health and open up a conversation about it. Everyone will experience the effects of it and the more we are able to understand and communicate about it, the more positive our relationships can be.

– (Source)

Psychologists are really trained professionals.

On the heels of that, it’s important to talk to a medical professional about your mental health instead of just your close family and friends.

Treating Mental Health takes more than just ‘Talking and Listening’ and the techniques that Psychologists use are developed through years of education and training to positively impact their patients.

– (Source)

I think you deserve that rest.

I have severe anxiety. So much so it’s developed into agoraphobia. I stay in my apartment most days, and only really go outside in public accompanied by my safe person. The common misconception is that I’m lazy. I don’t have a life. Because I stay inside all day, most days, and I’m content not leaving. But I do a lot. I draw, I’m learning how to sew, and I try to get out a little more every day but it’s baby steps.

People also think I’m lazy because I sleep a lot. I have regular panic attacks. At least 3 times a day. It’s rather exhausting. My brain feels like it needs rest after having one.

�� MetalMaiden420

Misconceptions about Anorexia.

I have anorexia. I think the most common misconception is that it is about being thin. I have honestly never met a person who developed an eating disorder because they wanted to look like some photoshopped model. For us, it’s about perfection and control, it just so happens that thinness is a trait that our society admires, which is why we strive to achieve it. At a certain point, you are intellectually aware that you are not attractive and dying, but this irrational little part of your brain won’t let you eat because you’re still too big. There is no such thing as “small enough”, once the disease takes hold no amount of weight loss can satisfy.

– purpleelephant77

Seeking help isn’t a sign of weakness.

For some reason, even with this debilitating stigma that people dealing with Mental Illness face, it’s still seen as weak to look that in the face and say: “I’m going to go to a therapist anyways”. That doesn’t make sense at all.

But for people with Mental Health issues, opening up emotionally is a very trying experience. That’s exactly what happens in therapy, you open up your emotions and face your mind at its worst.

How could that be seen as weak? – (Source)

Yeah, just stop thinking like that.

OCD isn’t about being organized and anal. It can be overwhelming and paralyzing at it’s worst and telling us to “just not have those thoughts” isn’t helpful.

– mycatisawh***

Another great analogy for anxiety.

Anxiety is that unwelcome, creepy stranger at a party that won’t leave you alone.

One thing people don’t get is how debilitating mental illness can be. With anxiety, it isn’t simply just worrying too much about a deadline…that’s stress. Stress is good. Anxiety is bad. Anxiety starts with automatic thoughts that ruminate into something bigger. It’s worrying about things out of your control. I’ve been told more times than I can count to “just quit worrying so much.” I don’t think people realize how much effort I have to put in to getting myself into healthy thought patterns. It is a daily battle to fight off thoughts like “everyone hates me” and “you’ll never amount to anything”, and not let them ruminate to the point where I cancel my day and crawl back into bed. – frazzled_wumbologist

When people think your illness doesn’t even exist.

I have Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Easiest way to explain it is that I’m so good at compartmentalizing, the compartments can’t all access each other (work-me can’t access school-me can’t access home-me). And since people are kind of the sum of their experiences, my different ‘mes’ seem different from one another.

Did you know DID affects from 1-5% of the population? That’s the same as depression, schizophrenia, and a host of better know physical illnesses. Did you know that doctors trained in trauma only find the CATALYST for DID to be controversial? In other words, they know it exists, they just don’t know why only some child abuse survivors end up with it. Most people think the existence of DID is controversial when it really isn’t anymore.

And the really bad part is, abuse is always denied, always minimized. To come out from that scarred, with a mental disorder that was, in essence, thrust upon you by others when you were too young to resist, and to then be denied or minimized….there is a reason only my spouse and my therapist know I have this disorder.

– ThrowawayDIDhardenuf

Maybe people are actually sick?

People who really are suffering from a Mental Illness aren’t faking it for the medication. I can’t understand why this is such a permeating thought. Mental Illness is such a debilitating condition and the stigma is so overbearing that it would be completely undesirable to fake it.

These are real medical conditions that are treated by real medicine and real doctors. Ignoring a broken foot and continuing to walk on it won’t let it heal

– (Source)

Misconceptions about Borderline Personality Disorder.

Borderline personality disorder does not mean I am an axe-wielding homicidal bunny boiling stalker. Never have been.

Therapy helped massively with my emotion regulation and crisis management skills. Also suffer from depression, so life is a constant juggling act and some days are better than others. I’ve been mean, manipulative and suicidal and I self-harmed. The guilt of the way I acted is what usually drives the depression. Many people make the assumption that all borderliners are evil, usually because of bad experiences.

There are bad people with BPD. But there are also good people who want to change their lives for the better.

– Welshgirlie2

Clearing up more misconceptions about OCD.

I have autism & OCD and as soon as people find out, they start making Sheldon Cooper jokes and asking if my pencils not being aligned perfectly on my desk makes me freak out. OCD does not universally equal being a neat-freak, and autism does not universally equal being a socially stunted outcast.

My desk is a disaster and I can function fine in most social settings, but I can’t drink out of a cup without rinsing it out first(even if it just came out of the dishwasher), I pick my bottom lip till it bleeds, I can’t look people in the eye, I add up number sequences(like totals on receipts) till I’m left with a single digit number and if the number isn’t “good” I get uneasy, and I have horrifying intrusive thoughts that replay in my head for sometimes weeks at a time.

The autism isn’t so bad, but the OCD is really bad. It sucks and I wish I didn’t have it.

– Lydious

No one is immune.

Children can suffer from Mental Health problems too. It’s also not just a product of a bad childhood experience or a bad parent. These things just happen to everyday people.

In the UK, 1 in 5 children have been diagnosed with a Mental Health problem, and 1 in 20 teenagers suffer from depression specifically.

– (Source)

A personal account of the stigma people face.

High Functioning schizophrenic. Being close to 40, I’ve lived with the stigma of not being able to be trusted, that it’s just an overactive imagination & that I have more than one person living inside of me since I was a teenager. But mostly it’s the overactive imagination one that really bothers me.

– iwsnvrhr

Stop saying this please.

Having suffered from both Anxiety and Depression, many times I’ve been told to just “snap out of it”, which obviously isn’t possible. I’m not sure people always realize how debilitating these illnesses can be for people.

– Anonymous

Maybe don’t judge people by their medical history?

People with Mental Health concerns can absolutely hold a job. Like we mentioned before, these people aren’t violent or constantly having manic episodes.

In fact, studies have shown that employees with Mental Health issues are just as punctual, motivated, and work at a level on par with or greater than other employees.

Misconceptions about Tourettes.

It really drives me nuts when I say I have Tourettes to someone and they immediately let out a string of swear words.

Yeah no. If you told me you had alcoholism, my immediate reaction wouldn’t be swaying back and forth and slurring my words. Thanks for belittling my issues.

I wish there was more awareness about Tourette’s outside of the Hollywood version of it. It sucks living with constantly twitching, but it sucks telling someone you have it and having them think you have a hilarious malady and making a joke about it. I’m easy going, but for some reason, that really gets under my skin.

– my_Favorite_post

Although, there are some terrible people out there.

PTSD is something that stole certain joys away from me (shooting guns, fireworks, etc.) And it really sucks. To see people fake it and use it to get notoriety and discounts makes me sick to my stomach. I can only trust therapists or doctors with my issues. Not complete strangers.

– nessn12

We’ve been talking a lot about the debilitating effects of Mental Illness, but the truth is it’s not a life sentence. People can recover completely from their Mental Illness with the right help and medication.

Some issues aren’t curable, but they are treatable. Again, with proper medication, it’s entirely possible to live a happy and positive life.

– (Source)

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