#because the therapist is more unhinged than the supposed murderer

[thelittlestspider]

yesterday i was wanting a book about a crazy man character, and today i picked up The Silent Patient because i thought it was about an unhinged woman. turns out this is a two for one special.

[cameron-allen]

What If... Symona went to therapy for her trouble processing her husband's death?

ooohhh..... 👀👀 Excellent question!!

See, the trick would be getting her to accept therapy in the first place. She would probably have to be dragged in kicking and screaming. They probably would put her on meds and it would likely have to be a forced ordeal. It seems to be that the more moral a guy is that tries to help her out, the more she resists any sort of help. A therapist is the extreme end of 'morally good' and she thoroughly rejects it. This is why Symona hates Cameron so much. lol

@dravocn took about a week or two to finally get through to her and even then, the only reason anything changed was because she wouldnt allow Dravocn to be self-loathing. Symona is the only one allowed to self-hate in her world and the fact that he would not shut up apologizing for his very existance, she kissed him out of sheer frustration to shut him up (theres much more nuance etc going on, but thats the gist and the basic point).

With a discord mun rping as Batman, it took him months to break through to her and the only reason THAT happened was because apparently Bruce looks remarkably like Connor and it only hit her when he was wearing a certain outfit that one time and... um. well. She had crisis she couldnt avoid.... That uh.... changed things.

Theres also a thread with Clark Kent and he seems to be making even less progress than Bruce did. lol

But then theres the morally grey/dark characters and it seems the more unhinged they are, the faster they get through to her.

One discord with an assassin OC succeeded in like. 3 days. With Darth Maul it was less than 12 hours. With @howlofthewolf it was also less than 12 hours (not that Wolf is unhinged but he DID help her cover about a passion murder). With Jason Todd, also within 24 hours.

There was that one thread in the detroit be human verse where she was supposed be working with a child droid but when she met that one (name escapes me; hes just an npc but was beat up and keeps referring to himself in third person), the just CLICKED like. Instantly. And it was so bizarre because that droid got through to her immediately with no hurdles at all and SHE got through to HIM and was able to experience the rare moment when HE spoke in first person- just to her. Such a brief interaction but that was AMAZING to see. Also, this is the closest Symona ever got to real therapy cuz the droid in this thread used art therapy and actually referred to it as such.

Also: kids. Any thread with a kid (the younger, the better) will like. almost instantly knock some sense back into her and make her find actually healthy ways to cope.

So uh... take her track record as you will. lol

[allofmycrushes]

blanca was the one who wronged both yut lung and ash though. and what do you think about headcanons like eiji redeeming yue like he did ash and them being best friends?

Blanca didn't fail Yut lung like he did Ash? He did desert Ash but with Yut Lung the situation was different? First time Ash was 13 in the cluches of his abuser and then 19 and hunted down. Yut Lung upon Blanca meeting him was 18, free from his abusers, in a position of power, his freaking employer and unhinged. What do people expect from Blanca to do for Yut Lung here, be his therapist? Stay and keep servicing the toxic person and try to "fix him"? Yut Lung rejects friendships if people aren't acting like he wants them to anyway. And essentialy he looked at Blanca as his devoted underling more than anything. Blanca was honest with him, gave some good advice for once and proceeded to go help Ash finally, can't really blame him there. Blanca wronged him because he ruined Yut Lung's plans by refusing his awful orders which made him feel bad? Yut Lung's the one who keeps making others suffer, yet we're constantly supposed to feel bad for him? Because they stand up for themselves and their friends and leave him? Neither Blanca nor Sing or Eiji owe him anything, he's not a victim in relation to them.

Btw how can anyone throw a tantrum and whitewash Yut Lung partnering up with a pedo, preventing club cod from getting exposed in the media and not caring how thanks to this abuse will be going on, forcing Ash to go back to his rapist because Ash's a beast for him, what he did with Lao, Eiji and Sing, idk was he forced to murder his brothers wives and children who were likely victims, too or it doesn't count because he's an 18 years old? 

HC of Eiji and Yut Lung being besties is OOC for me, usually it entails Yut Lung being being a flamboyant alpha bitch and Eiji being the boring one who takes being deingrated with patient sighs and indulges him or them having girly sleepovers.

I also dislike the HC of Eiji taking responsibility for fixing/healing/saving Yut Lung? This HC stems from this view of Yut Lung as a vulnerable hurting woobie who didn't mean what he did and just needed a hug. And how he's like Ash so Eiji can do what he does for Ash. Yut Lung and Ash aren't the same. It's like saying Arthur and Ash are the same because they both killed people. Yut Lung choose his ridiculous cosplay as Big Baddie and didn’t care that what he did was horrific, he gloated about it. Didn’t have anyone who hunted him, wasn’t in a situation where he had to fight for his freedom after he killed his brothers but still went after people who literally didn’t do anything to him. See the difference?

First off Ash cared for Eiji, equally selflessly and despite what Blanca said didn't just use Eiji as an emotional crutch or treated him like a service. Second, Eiji and his friends are Yut Lung's victims. Are they not at least as vulnerable? The idea of Eiji coddling the person who despised him, ordered to have him/ash shoot/stabbed and made ppl he loves suffer showing no remorse is uncomfortable to me. Nobody should take it upon themselves to befriend their bully. Eiji's kind and empathetic but not a doormat, he stood up for himself and set boundaries. Everyone talks about Eiji's mental health and how he's not subservient but when it comes to Yut Lung we should wish for Eiji to do emotional labour for him, someone who's treated Eiji with scorn and put him down constantly? Be a comfort provider for someone who put a person he loves through hell? He doesn't exist to serve and cater to possible needs and well being of the person who acted abusive towards him and didn't even acknowledge it. Nobody should be expected to maintain a relationship, care and try to change someone who abused them even if it's because they're damaged. Abused isn’t even covering it here though, he didn't just stop on feeding his own ego proclaiming how he's better than everyone. As Yut Lung freed himself his goal became being this cartoon villain complete with deranged laughter and he ordered to kill both Eiji and Ash and his machinations ensured Eiji got shot and Ash got stabbed in turn. Funniest of it all is, everyone forgets about it just like almost all main characters forget that he even exists when not in direct presence while Yut Lung is obsessed about them. I don’t think Yut Lung is even on Eiji’s radar 99.9% of the time. He drones on and on how much of a failure Eiji is and yet you can’t think of more stereotypical loser than him considering nobody ever even spares him a thought.

Yut Lung should redeem himself by himself and I wish we stopped acting as if he didn't actually do anything ever or didn’t cause anything or what he did wasn't his fault, poor him. He isn't entitled to other characters he hurt making him feel good and becoming stepping stones to his possible recovery.

All attempts at invalidating/redirecting the discussion about him I see are gross and kids thinking they take the high moral ground by stanning him and judging everyone who doesn’t are weird.

[throwaway-sinfulwriter]

The Same - Chapter One - Malcolm

Malcolm Whitley has one, dirty, dark secret. A secret he has yet to tell anyone in his life. One that his multitude of therapists, psychiatrists, and doctors had yet to hear.

No one had ever known his secret. That is, no one besides his own reflection in the mirror after violent night terrors and days of exhaustion.

He was in love with his father.

His psychotic, serial killer, locked up but somehow still loving, biological father.

It was sick. So, so very sick. Much like Malcolm himself. He had never been called sick directly, but after years of his mother's pitying glances and shoving pills down his throat (not literally.. anymore. she had stopped once he turned 19.) He had figured out that something was seriously wrong with him.

Now, thinking of it, perhaps in love wasn't the right word, the healthiest word, but he knew that it was the correct way to describe the way his soul seemed burst open with feelings when he thought of .. Dr. Whitley.

It was hard to address him as his father in his mind sometimes, even though that was exactly what he was. it was a barrier that he could not cross when his thoughts became depraved. Like now.

He supposed it all stemmed from their incredibly unhealthy relationship, after Malcolm had called the police and turned his monster of a father in to the law's hands.

As a child, he didn't truly grasp what was happening, or why his mother was refusing to let him visit his father.

After many tantrums and countless doctors, he was allowed to see the man again. Even though it downright disgusted his mother.

He had been locked up for nearly 3 years before Michael saw him again. Malcolm had expected him to be furious, to yell and bash his hands against the bars, maybe.

Be resentful towards his son for stopping his spree.

Let out the anger Malcolm felt for himself.

But he wasn't. All he got from his father was a smile that lit up his eyes and a soft "Malcolm.. my dear boy.."

Sometimes he wished his father would be outwardly angry at him. Maybe it would take away the anger he felt at himself. Perhaps it would lighten the load of self loathing he felt at the decision he made all those years ago.

Maybe his father's anger would feel better than his father's disappointment.

Malcolm shivered in a cold sweat, sitting at the end of his too-big bed. Turning his head, he looks at his bedside clock. 3:45 AM. He had taken the restraints off his wrists after roughly 4 hours of pitifully trying to fall asleep.

It was cruel, his body refusing to obey and sleep. It would be 3 or 4 more days until it finally gave up and he would pass out. Then the night terrors would start, and the cycle would repeat. The tremors in his hands were constant.

It was even more cruel for his tired mind to think about things he would rather not, things that he had not allowed himself to think for a decade.

He knew it was because of the copycat case, because he had seen him again. His mind latched onto it, sucked onto it greedily until it was all he could think about.

Until logic had left him completely.

His love for his father had always existed, though at some point in his life it had twisted into something darker, something different than familial love.

It was unhinged, in an inherently unhealthy, sexual, borderline romantic way.

Malcolm laughs bitterly out loud, cold tears already dripping down his face as his mind fights itself. Like romance had anything to do with what he felt.

Though there were times when he thought of laying with Dr. Whitly and running his fingers along his skin, naming each of his bones and telling him how much he loved him, what he would give up to be with him.

Seeing him again, it brought back all of the (mostly) latent feelings he had experienced in his youth, tenfold.

He was more strung out than ever.

His eyes close as more tears of ice fall, his father's face flashing behind his eyelids.

The man looked so different from when he was first incarcerated, even from when he last saw him ten years ago, to now.

Still, he spoke the same. Regarded his son the same. Treated him no differently than the loving father from his memories. It made him seethe.

In the 7 years Malcolm had regularly visited his father, the more unhinged and broken he slowly became.

He obsessed over him, thinking no other thoughts and preparing for their next visit even when they were months apart.

It got to such a point he researched his murders in his spare time, agonizing over every little detail and the precision his father put into his work.

He had been planning on confessing, pressing his face to the bars and whispering his dirtiest secret to his father, straining his neck to kiss his cheek and then his lips and..

However, his plan was put to an end before he had even truly thought of setting it into motion.

His mother found some of the print-outs he had made regarding the cases, and he had been admitted into a psych ward for 6 months because of it.

Malcolm came out of the ward changed, mind different from treatment.

He began working in the justice career, trying to get a job with the FBI. Deliberately trying to go against his father.

He felt like a rebellious teenager, though he was past that stage of his life at the time. Even though he wasn't speaking to him, he was goading him. Hoping, wanting a reaction.

His father's reaction to him wanting to join the FBI is something he will never be able to erase from his mind.

"I should have been more supportive when you wanted to work with the FBI.."

Malcolm laughs, though it doesn't sound joyful at all. It is hysterical. Right. Supportive. His father was many things, but supportive was not one of them.

He goes through their conversation once more, picturing his father in his sweater (covering his cuffs) and how happy he was to see him. How he called him his boy, immediately became concerned over his exhaustion..

The hair on top of his head was curly now, mostly gray but streaks of brown running throughout it. It gave him a strange salt and pepper look, and when Malcom pictured his profile his heart beat in his ribcage erratically.

He was still so handsome. Devishly so. It made Malcom so angry. How dare he look so- so god damn pristine when he was here, out, suffering because of him?

How dare he look so perfect and attractive Malcolm wanted to taste his lips and cut him open and study every inch of him from the inside out?

Malcolm sobs, covering his face as his shoulders shake. He tries to compose himself, wiping his face and staring at his reflection at the mirror affixed to his dresser.

His watery blue eyes staring back at him, identical to his father's.

I will always love you. Because we're the same.

Out of everything his father was, a serial killer, a psychopath, a manipulative abuser, a liar.. He was never, ever wrong when it came to Malcom.

He was always right. They were the same.

And being in contact with his father again made it so much harder to hide that fact.

[imuybemovoko]

I die inside while dissecting Jesus music, part 4

I don't understand how they can justify still making more of this stuff. It's not like they say anything new...

Anyway, here's another round of psychic damage I could avoid by doing literally anything else, including healthy things like sleeping or finding a better job and a fucking therapist, but here I am anyway :^)

Since I mostly just Deadpool my way through these, I might come across as very fuckin sarcastic in a way I don't really intend (at least not this time. I might've in the past, I forget because it's been at least months since I did this to myself.) So I'd like to clarify this time that I don't mean this as a dig against Christianity as a whole, nor do I presume to analyze the way every Christian approaches this song (unless I do a Bethel one, then I'm going to feel pretty free to assume only the unhinged ones engage with it since that's my experience). Bethel aside, I'm looking into the way the people I used to run with interpreted these songs and how fucked those interpretations get. They do worse shit with the doctrines in general than many do, and music is not only a useful way to analyze it, but in evangelical and fundie circles literally functions as a way to speedrun the practice of inducing a panic attack in everyone present and marketing that as the presence of God. In the past I've kinda just been venting with these, but I can probably shoehorn it into some kind of useful analysis of a specific fucked up subculture if I'm not lazy about it.

Today, no guarantees on consistency in that. I should be asleep instead of writing this at the moment.

Anyway.

CW: extensive discussion of toxic religion, also I manage to bring up conversion therapy somehow.

Today's victim source of absurd suffering that I could've avoided: None But Jesus, by Hillsong United featuring Brooke Ligertwood.

That's right motherfuckers, we're getting into Hillsong.

I chose that one because I liked it when I was still cringe enough to unironically enjoy this kind of music. I don't think that's exactly what they mean by "kill your darlings", but fuck you, language changes, I can death of the author a phrase thank you very much >:(

alright. Strap in.

The particular version I linked above is an acoustic version of a song that maybe they do in other ways? I'm not aware of them if they exist, at least not anymore. Not being able to remember shit like this off the top of my head is kind of nice. I'll be getting lyrics from Genius like I typically do.

The format is a pretty standard verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus kind of situation, with a prechorus that's different each time it shows up. Hard to go wrong with that format.

Nah, they find other ways.

First verse:

In the quiet, in the stillness I know that You are God In the secret of Your Presence I know there I am restored

I think the stillness here is a reference to an incident from 1 Kings 19 where the prophet Elijah fucks off into the mountains, where God hits his favorite mountain with a downright apocalyptic wind followed by an earthquake, and then a fire?!, and Elijah finds God's presence in none of that but rather in the calm afterwards.

And then for a reason I forget, God says "bro what the fuck are you doing on this mountain?" I remember Elijah being a bit of what God would call a dramatic lil shit and I would probably call "fuckin relatable, I mean holy shit the guy goes through a new life-altering trauma a week in his role as prophet, no shit he wants to disappear into the hills and never come back sometimes, I feel that way and I haven't seen a few dozen murders, several wars, visions of an apocalypse that I'm supposed to share, and to crown it all, some eldritch horror with nineteen wings and a crust of eyes all over its body". It's not super relevant to the song. The reference to 1 Kings that I pick out of this might be a bit less than conscious anyway, the idea of God's presence as a voice in stillness is pervasive. Maybe the singer is just referring to just like reminding herself of her faith during quiet times, an incredibly common practice across probably all branches of Christianity including the sane ones, and also common in quite a few non-Christian faiths. I didn't need either of these paragraphs, but I have them anyway because fuck it.

Anyway I don't know why she would call the Christian God's presence a secret in the second half of this verse, they don't treat their ideas around God's presence being healing/cleansing/etc. as any kind of secret. Maybe there's context I'm forgetting or maybe it's a neat way of referring to it for the song because it does carry over some of that quiet place vibe. In either case, she's saying that this presence is restorative.

Nothing super fucky just from this verse, which is actually unlike the deathculty vibe from Even So Come, the pretty surface-level gaslighting of Gracefully Broken, or the "Jesus is my boyfriend and dying for him would make me cum" vibe of Even Unto Death. This one is honestly just "God has been a positive influence in my life", the song. Where this gets fucked up in the churches that weaponize this stuff is where just how intense they are about original sin and making people feel like absolute piles of shit for existing comes into play. I spent a couple of years in a Pentecostal campus ministry cult (AoG affiliated, if you know what that is I'm terribly sorry) and a couple of years involved with Calvary Chapel and in both cases, "restored" here is going to carry connotations of having any shot at being a moral person, being "right with god", being plucked out of eternal suffering despite having no fucking right to that, etc. We didn't tend to do a lot of interpretive work on songs, but this is the role it would play.

First prechorus:

When You call I won't refuse Each new day, again I'll choose

Sane Christians are probably going with something a bit resembling reciprocity here. Like a "God is a stabilizing influence on my life and sometimes I do things for him because I'm thankful" kind of situation. The source material they're drawing from frames this as an obligation, so they do that incredibly often as well, and I'm actually not aware of Christians who don't, but I'm sure there's a lot of healthier approaches than what I was learning from 2015 to 2019. Because in fuckin Chi Alpha or Calvary Chapel, this becomes "Trying to have my own agency is Satanic and I have to fight it every day, I'm a lifeless hole empty vessel for you God".

Yes, that's a reference. Dorian Electra is cool.

The chorus is a touch weirder just on the surface of it:

There is no one else for me None but Jesus Crucified to set me free Now I live to bring Him praise

It's giving "Jesus is my boyfriend" meets, in the last line, "Agency? Who's she?". I assume sane people think, "yeah, there's only one son of god, I only worship one god and he did do the whole sacrificing himself for my sins thing, I really like him" or something. In my series of cults, they take this something more along the lines of "hello yes i am either addicted to Jesus and my sole purpose is singing neat little songs to him and yelling about him in places where no one wants that and abusing children so they do the same thing, or i am not only deeply evil but not trying to do the impossible task of becoming not evil". These people literally want to fucking delete their own agency and be empty vessels for God. One guy spent like 20 minutes telling me about how he wants to rely on God rather than the mechanisms of his own fucking body to breathe and held that up as an example of what we should be. These lyrics are a little "agency? who's she?", but holy FUCK does what's inherent to them pale in comparison to how they had me trying to live. These people also lean incredibly hard into sin as a thing that makes a person thoroughly fucking evil. The last time I ever spoke to the pastor at the Calvary Chapel I subjected myself to, he pointed to his grandchild, a literal baby, touching a stove when he said not to as a sign that this kid is evil to their core and not as a sign that they didn't know what "don't touch that, you'll burn yourself, it's hot" means at this early point in their life. Every fucking thing you do is, to these people, a sign that you're infinitely bad and deserve to die and then burn forever.

Oh, and being queer in any way? Very much worse.

I need ✨therapy✨.

Verse 2 is also a touch hard to divorce from the insanity, but I can imagine it being, in the right hands, about as ambiently toxic as it's unavoidable for Christianity and its authority-based language structures to be.

In the chaos, in confusion I know You're sovereign still In the moment of my weakness You give me grace to do Your Will

First half is more of the normal actually stuff from the first verse, just like... the singer reads God as a stabilizing influence on her life. "Sovereign" here is an example of that ambient authoritarian language, which means culty people will do insane shit with it and sane Christians will just say that God is... I don't know the exact takes, but like an underlying force of the universe and has a good plan or something. And what is life except a parade of chaos and confusion punctuated with some nice chill moments? It's just how we exist, and that's neither here nor there, but it can be nice to feel like you have a stabilizing influence.

The second half is where this not only gets a bunch worse in culty settings, but becomes a little harder to avoid problems from, the latter mostly because I honestly fail to see how this doesn't end up becoming shaming. Like "God gives you everything you need to avoid fucking up, so why do you, asshole?" is a thing that I don't see being absent from this bit in any circumstance at all, it's just that sane Christians will go "eh, learning experiences amirite????!!1?" and cultists will go "we are all living proof that every single human deserves D̸̟̫̙̮̝̃̍̊̊̊̾͋̎̒É̶̛͚͓͙͎̈́̓͋̎̽͑͌̂̈́̏̕͠͠A̶̹̳͚̰͓̰̾͑̎́͌̀̄͋͜T̴̛̪͓̹̲̋͋̌̍̅̒̓H̴̟̳͈̔̈́̃̆͛̈́̏̕͝͝ for literally just existing, go forth and hate yourself until you're better".

Oh, also, conversion therapy rests on this premise. Christian bigots typically say "God says don't be gay or trans, and God can change you, so change, [REDACTED]".

That is, it rests on strained, uncharitable interpretations mixed with hate and a copious amount of outright bullshit.

Second prechorus:

So, when You call I won't delay This my song through all my days

First bit feels a bit ambiently authoritarian, just "God says frog, we jump" vibes that can't really get out of it there. Answering God's call is important to the singer and they express it in a way that's like "oh, ok yeah sure just hand the bastard a weapon why don't you". Christianity has that as a structural problem. Second line is a lifelong commitment. Nothing too weird there, I mean, people do that with other humans too, sometimes for worse reasons than someone who has a positive experience with a god might have for saying this.

Or, as AoG or Calvary types would put it, "Hesitating to obey God's commands is a sin and God might kill you for it." Because they're at best not approaching the faith in a healthy way and at worst, weaponizing the ever-loving FUCK out of it.

Time for the bridge.

Bridge is just this, twice:

All my delight is in You, Lord All of my hope, all of my strength All my delight is in You, Lord Forevermore

This is very "all your eggs in one basket" for me, but hey, I'm not a monotheist, plus the god she's referring to here didn't deliver for me. A sane person's approach to this might be something like "God is the source of these good things and also I like him a lot".

AoG and Calvary both told me:

that unbelievers are incapable of happiness (bullshit, but scary)

that people, even Christians, who don't yeet themselves as deeply as possible into God are pushed around by every idea that gets thrown their way and also probably fully want to die as soon as life gets fonky

that people who aren't the right kind of Christian who say they have any hope are either bullshitting, deceived by Satan into thinking that, or both

that people who enjoy things other than God are idolaters

and probably a lot of other similar shit that I'll uncover in therapy sessions one day

being God's literal puppet slave forever will be like cumming for all of eternity actually (of course they're far too prudish to actually use those words, it would've been funny in retrospect though)

or, in other words, they take all these ideas in the worst direction possible, of course.

I should sleep now. And probably also find a therapist.

Deste hságâneutá, sa dorá se hajse dlázo, se termíneko...

[sexygarbage]

1:20am

Have I written about how I realized that I have a hometown murder???! I recently finished every episode of MFM that isn’t a live show and isn’t a minisode. So, now I’m going down the list of minisodes. Which, are just as entertaining, if not more so than the good ol fashioned shows. And every time I hear these hometown murders I am like so jelous that I don’t have a story to tell! I mean, people are writing about close encounters with famous serial killers or even unknown killers. Or like not even murder related but touching and thoughtful or about ghosts or the super natural. And I wanna be featured on it so bad. I was listening to them talk about a mother who had murdered her own baby or something and how it’s the lowest of the low in prison if you’re a mother who murdered your baby. And then it all came back to me. I had a middle school/high school friend named Barbara Ramirez Sufuentes who drowned her two twin babies in her bathtub like 4 years ago!!!!!!!!! I honestly thing I repressed this memory because at the time, she had started posting more on her facebook about them and also she had commented on a depressing instagram picture I posted of a bb gun to my head. She was like “are you okay? guns are kinda serious” And then she straight up murdered her two twin daughters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At the time, I just could not believe it. It was a numbing time, a depressing time. Me and Barbara had fallen out of touch. It was weird of her to even ask me anything about myself because we had not spoken for years. So, I’m sure at the time I just repressed it. I wasn’t into true crime shit just then. And when I was listening to MFM I re-remembered. I wrote to them but I doubt that it will get read because sometimes I feel as if I have to dumb myself down a little bit and I probably did that in the email, causing it to probably be boring and I don’t think it would make the cut :/ 

But! It was interesting to re-remember something from my past. Barbara was like one of those girls who were super intimidating and like really pushy. And you kinda just had to feed into their delusions in order to maintain peace you know. There was something about her that was always a little unhinged, or like off... I always thought that... which is why I wasn’t so committed to staying friends with her after middle school yanno. But upon my research, she was arrested on mothers day and she claimed it was a horrible accident. She started the twins bath and was listening to music very loudly and the next thing she knew they were dead... She was also seen smiling when she got arrested! She was found guilty and is serving a 6 year prison sentence. People in the fb comments were heavily debating. A lot veer into the side of it just being a crazy accident and then some people are too ragefilled about it. Also upon researching, I discovered a prison penpals website where she wrote an ad seeking friends while she was in prison. And it was very strangely written, she only said she was in prison for a crime that was due to recklessness on her part and that she hadn’t done anything wrong before that. She also used a lot of quotes and named the bands she listened to... It just seems so creepy to me. Because with all the red flags, it’s so obvious that she totally killed her babies and it was not an accident. But this was a girl I basically grew up with!! We might have even had a sleepover or she at least came to my house once or twice!! She was someone that I knew. Someone that I had study hall with, someone that influenced me as a kid and she totally fuckin murdered her own children!!!!!!! I mean, it’s crazy when I think about it now. Now that I am so invested in crazy shit like this and have heard so many fucked up stories. And the thing that baffles me is that when you’re in school, it feels already like a prison. And everyone around you can bond over the fact that you are all pretty much miserable. And Barbara was def not a student who stayed out of trouble. She was always in trouble. She was fuckin crazy! School is like baby prison. Prison is like real life adult serious prison!!!!!! Like, murderers, rapists, unfathomable, unforgivable crimes is where prison is! And I already empathize way more than I need to so when I realize the legitamcy of it all, it fuckin freaks me out. Ofc I didn’t write anything as poignant and personal like this when I wrote the email for MFM. But, I still shared the small barely interesting story. 

I keep thinking about it and I just wanna know that they read it. But I can’t count on that outcome. I’ve just listened to like 5 minisodes in a row and they have all made me laugh and cry and scream and get goosebumps. They make me feel so many emotions, and they trigger me and I begin to feel genuine feelings which is so hard to come by especially because the people close to me are a majority of sociopaths. And when I listen to the stories and the carmraderie and the sense of belinging, it just warms my heart. I mean I hate to be so cornball about it. But shit, I’m mostly having a bad day and I’m mostly secretly struggling and feeling out of place and uncared for and this just totally turns me around and I become intrigued, I am put in a trance where things are just not so shitty and the hottest of tea is being spilt in the most twisted of ways! It is everything I live for! 

So yeah, I’ve been emmersed in these crazy stories, I might be gong insane a little bit. I also wanna write about my thoughts on my therapist because I don’t write about it that often. Me hanging out with Coco so much and hating it is an indication that I, too, am quite insane. Because I have no where else to go. And so I keep going back to Coco when I know she makes me feel like shit. It’s not normal that every time I call Sas, we have to have a Coco complaints hour. I know it’s fun to talk about the dysfunction of others. But at a certain point, it is spilling onto me. And look, the situation is not easy for anyone. Idk if anyone would care, but I would be certainly sad if I just straight up ghosted everyone cus I couldn’t stand Coco. No, I love everyone else, that’s why I have to put up with Coco. And when I go to my therapist about it, I could be talking about so many other things... My committment issues, my daddy issues, so many other issues but all I wanna talk about is how many times Coco has rubbed me the wrong way within two weeks! And I tell my therapist how shitty I’m feeling, and it upsets him to know that I’m upset so then I feel even more shittier. And we know the only solution is to get rid of her but it’s not easy and it’s not realistic. And I’m kinda just looking for a scientific explination of my dynamic with Coco, of my reasoning for my own attachment. But we never get there. With my therapist, he never gives me a scientific explination as to why I am the way that I am with certain people. He praises me a lot, he tells me positive things about myself and shitty things about everybody else. And on one hand, I do need to hear good things about myself because not many people are praising me and I need validation. But on the other hand, I am uncomfortable about it and I don’t know how to make that clear. I just think my therapist is way too emotional. Way too empathetic. And way too on my side! I mean, I know I’ve been gaslighted to believe everyone should be mean to me, but I need someone who is unfeeling. Someone who will give me scientific explanations. I’ve been kinda wanting to break up with my therapist :/ Which sucks because I love him so much. And part of it is me. Because I just don’t know how to deal with someone who sees me for me. I only know how to deal with people who make me the butt of the joke or something like that. I’m not used to people being so nice to me and it freaks me out and it makes me uncomfortable. And I know I shouldn’t feel guilty about it. But idk what to do. Also, my therapist is good at taking this into accountability, but it is different to have a white therapist when I’m not white. And he’s like super aware of racial differences, super understanding. And sometimes I just feel like I need a person of color therapist you know. Maybe not straight up filipino because you know pinoys are judgemental and hella religious. But at least just another person of color and a woman, so we’re all on the same page. Like, my therapist is an openly gay trans man and you could not ask for a better sense of open mindedness and a radical stance on politics. But, I am already so emotional. My therapist cannot be more emotional than me. It makes me feel like I have to retaliate and so then I become unfeeling. 

And also, the thing about therapy is that your therapist is always gonna be on your side. I was talking to Sas about what Coco’s therapy is like and it’s true, you can just straight up lie the whole time. And that’s probably what Coco is doing. She is doing her mother teresa act, crying her crocodile tears and her therapist has to buy it, her therapist has to be on her side and tell her the things she thinks she wants to hear. But her therapist is missing a huge chunk of Coco herself because therapists will only ever get your side of your story. I have probably hurt a lot of people too, and it’s not supposed to matter to your therapist. But sometimes I just wish it would so I could know how much of a shitty person I am. The way Coco’s therapist would never tell her. I wanna know all the bad things about me. A stranger just can’t know that about you because ofc I’m seemingly nice, and so are the thoughts that come out of my mouth and into my therapists’ ear. Ofc, he’s not gonna tell me all the bad things about myself. Ofc it’s just me finding new ways to hate myself even when I try to get better about it... Sometimes tho I feel as if I don’t even need therapy when I know so much shit already. But that’s just me being cocky and stupid... Anyway, idk! Imma just ride it out. I still have writing. And I still have my podcast and other creative endeavors. 

Actually, you know what I think this is me just like dealing with the fact that therapy is really that hard. I mean, you tell everyone to go to therapy but it’s only if theyre willing to work at it. Because it is a constant constant battle. And it’s never gonna be easy. And it’s so hard for me to like not feel bummed out about it because life is so hard. And then sometimes I just feel like there is no hope at all. Even when I put myself in a position to see that there is.. 

[jaysennettauthor]

New Post has been published on http://www.jaysennett.com/the-truth-about-why-transsexuals-hate-gender-identity-disorder/

The Truth About Why Transsexuals Hate Gender Identity Disorder

The real reason many transsexual and transgender people hate the DSM and GID?

We don’t want to be perceived as crazy.

I am NOT Craazzzyyy!!!

Transsexualism, to be treated legally by the medical establishment, needs a diagnosis. In my case, and most typically for most transsexuals, I think, therapists diagnosed me with gender identity disorder (GID).

GID is a psychological diagnosis, as is another diagnosis I have been given, transsexualism.

When I started hormones in 1996, GID enraged me. I didn’t have a psychological problem, people with bipolar disorder or schizophrenia had psychological disorders.

“There is nothing psychologically wrong with wanting to change my gender!”

I had a medical problem and believed my interests as a transsexual female to male would be best served by creating a medical diagnosis, i.e. an endocrine disorder, for example.

A medical diagnosis would surely be better than a psychological one. A medical diagnosis had little social and medical baggage, I thought.

Being lumped together with people with autism or bipolar disorder terrified me.

I wasn’t demented, deranged or unhinged.

A deep seated fear of Crazy bubbled up from somewhere within my socialization. All my middle-class fears about not fitting in and being different was like adding gasoline to a fire.

Not me, nope. Just an ordinary, taller-than-average female to male transsexual in great need of hormones.

The system of gender socialization created the problem, I railed. The problem lay with society, not my mental state or mental health.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to a Disability Rights Meeting

I possessed no ability to see the flaw in my logic.

If I believed a system of gender socialization created behaviors some people deemed normal and others not-normal, mightn’t that also be true for other psychological diagnosis?

No. I wasn’t crazy, just pursuing a right I believed belonged to every human being, the right to define and express gender as each person desires.

Then I became aware of disability activism and the neurodiversity movement, an approach to disability that sees neurological conditions as a result of variations in the human genome.

Wait. What?

Psychological disorders aren’t disorders at all unless considered by therapists, psychiatrists and the general public.

A person doesn’t need to be cured of their autism or tourette’s or bipolarity, neurological states that carry heavy social approbations, but accepted as part of the diverse human experience.

The striking similarities between this argument and transsexuals argument regarding unencumbered access to hormones free of social controls failed to impact me immediately.

I understood the arguments of the neurodiversity movement, and I’d like to be able to say today how I was struck smart instantly, but I would be lying if I said that.

In truth I bumped around my own internalized ableism.

Our society profoundly hates and loathes people with different-than-normal neurological conditions.

We joke about them, fear them, round them and murder them, corral them in institutions and betray them repeatedly with shock therapies, water treatments and all kinds of tortures more suited to an Inquisition chamber, not a modern medical establishment.

Oh, and if the person is also transsexual and taking hormones, we’ll be sure to take away their hormones, anytime we want.

Just because we can.

When the Corners Don’t Meet

When I learned medical authorities, particularly doctors, men and women sworn to do no harm, confiscated hormones from patients presenting with other issues/problems/concerns related to their neurological condition, my confusion began to lift.

Seizing hormones is a cruel punishment for a transsexual. How does taking them away from someone who feels suicidal make them feel less suicidal?

Around this same time a dear friend with an exceptionally strong form of bipolarity gave permission for several rounds of ECT or shock treatments. Doctors convinced this person of the efficacy of these treatments.

They ultimately went through several rounds, then stopped. We spoke not long after that.

“I’m sorry but there will be entire months, and maybe even years, of our relationship I won’t remember. I’ll probably never remember.”

Then this person said words that changed my life.

“You’re my memory keeper now.”

I couldn’t square this deal anymore.

What that FtM don’t to warrant a death sentence from people who are supposed to help? Or my dear, dear friend?

Why must we fix different neurological states?

When the objective goal is to make a person normal, perhaps we need to change normal.

At this point I had come full circle.

As a transsexual, I hated normal and realized disability and neurodiversity activists did as well.

One or Two Things I’ve Learned

My fear of being diagnosed with a psychological disorder is arbitrary and results from my wrong-headed beliefs.

Now I’ve learned psychiatric treatments often center around making a person productive, which I think codes out as “go earn the system some profits,” or unitary or stable, whatever that means.

Psychiatric treatments seek to make neurologically diverse people their kind of normal.

I can relate.

A therapist once asked me if I had ever tortured animals, all because I needed his professional okay to pursue top surgery.

The questions and tests and interviews facilitated by the diagnosis of gender identity disorder often seem more about the clinicians than me.

Now I’ve learned psychotherapeutic communities want control. They want to mold us into an image in which they see themselves. Whether or not we survive such extrusions, who cares? We’ll get a stamp of “normal” or we should die trying.

But the most important thing I’ve learned is that a diagnosis is a diagnosis.

Whether the diagnosis is medical or psychiatric, I must still navigate through a system of channels and locks controlled by people who may or may not have my interests in mind.

Medical diagnosis don’t offer better solutions. People with diagnosis of cerebral palsy, for example, or dystonia, can, and are, treated like children by clinicians.

I’ve learned that if you are a black man fighting against a system out to kill you, you’ll probably get diagnosed as schizophrenic.

I’ve learned what happens to a white woman fighting against the malaise of confined, middle-class womanhood.

Either way the cure – whether the diagnosis is schizophrenia or severe under stimulation – doesn’t address the problem, which is racism and misogyny.

Now I’ve learned few circumstances exist that warrant denying a person hormones because they have an additional neurological condition.

I’ve learned a person’s gender dysphoria  and another neurological state can follow parallel paths and never intersect. Most therapists I’ve known misunderstand this phenomena, believing that gender can’t be independent of any other diagnosis, even a medical one.

I find it difficult to believe psychiatry a value-neutral proposition. Too many therapists have feed me and my people loads of crap. I’ve had to eat my share of shit sandwiches when it comes to managing my transsexualism, but I’ve always chosen to eat them.

It’s different when someone is shoving it down your throat, while sitting on your chest with their hands around your throat, implying you are abnormal because you struggle to eat the sandwich.

When I really listened to disability activists, sitting with my prejudices and discomforts, I realized a diagnosis is a diagnosis.

Now I’ve learned a medical diagnosis doesn’t make things better for people. A diagnosis of cerebral palsy or dystonia can, and does result, in being treated by like a child by clinicians.

Mostly I’ve learned how desperate middle-class people are for everyone to fit it, get along and keep a low profile.

When I worked at a social work school, a new coworker once called me in a panic.

“A man is sitting in the common area, shouting and biting his fist.”

“He has Tourette’s syndrome,” I told her after walking past the man to her office.

“We know him,” I said.

She smiled, sort of.

The social norming of my employer told her she needed to accept him. He had a right to sit in the common area and shout and bite his fist.

“Oh. Okay.”

Her upbringing, however, suggested a different outcome.

Middle-class people prize quiet and social conformity.

Crazy is a very bad thing among the middle class. Your head is broke.

Now I realize my head is broke, too, when examined through the lens of extreme middle class blandness, gender conformity and the DSM.

Whether a little bit or a lot, a broke head is still broken. I needs  diagnosis to get fixed.

When I fear crazy and rail against gender identity disorder and makes claims that I’m not crazy, I’m not really doing anything to change a system I say I hate.

The problem isn’t people who are neurologically different from me. The problem is the system that wants me to believe they are the problem.

Let’s work on changing the system, a twisted, violent thing that really is broken.