#but do you know how expensive a psychiatrist is? or how much energy it takes that i just dont have (for some reason)

[trannydykes]

ngl, self-diagnoses doesn't harm anyone.

"They're taking away resources from actually autistic people!" where. proof for that. Also, most resources that non-diagnosed autistic ppl can get are just DIY remedies(headphones, sensory toys, ect), how is that taking away from your remedies.

i think instead of saying "no you cant self-diagnose or can only under specific circumstances", we should be sharing resources to help people who are questioning if they really have a condition or not

if you want ppl to stop incorrectly thinking they have autism, maybe we can just make content where we talk abt what autism actually entails and what is/isn't an autistic trait. instead of saying all self-diagnosers are faking on purpose

Information is the best killer of misinformation actually if you didn't know

[xaytried]

Dan Heng x Depressed Reader

self-Indulgent idk what im doing bro. first fanfic ever??

not proofread!! 1.4k words

─── ･ ｡��☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The day you had begun as it usually does. Being woken up by your cat at 6 in the morning, even though you had gone to bed at 3 am. You should have learned your lesson by now. Why do you still choose to go to bed so late, knowing damn well your cat would wake you up with the sun. 

It was hopeless trying to go back to sleep after getting up to feed the cat, so it might as well be productive right?

Your idea of productivity was different from others. For most people that meant maybe checking their email or cleaning up a little. For you though, it meant feeding yourself and taking your medication. Things most people don't think twice about, but the hardest part of your day. Your boyfriend knew this. He usually got up around 6, not because of the cat. He’s always been a productive and curious man. He gets up early and takes care of himself without any issues. That's not to say that he doesn't have his problems, but even he can admit that he doesn't have it nearly as difficult as you do. 

You get up and don’t even bother getting dressed, it was impressive enough that you even got up in the first place. It’s just another extra chore. You’re not going anywhere today anyway. The only thing you have today is online, and surely your psychiatrist won’t be able to tell you don't have pants on while on the video call. 

You make your way downstairs and on arrival, your lovely boyfriend, Dan Heng, greets you with a gentle smile, as he does every morning. 

“Good morning, darling.” He looks at your exhausted expression, a little worried that you look so worn out despite having just woken up. But he knows how awful your sleep schedule is. You honestly don't know why he still even wastes his worries on you.

“Good morning.” You reply.

You make your way across the living you into the kitchen. The medication you take requires food before you can take it. Supposedly you'd get sick if you missed this vital step, but you have never risked it. The last thing you wanted was to puke all your expensive medication down the toilet. Unfortunately though, you never really found anything appetizing, not ever. 

“I made you a breakfast taco, it should be in the fridge.” Dan Heng's voice startled you.

“Oh, okay… Thanks.” You make your way over to the refrigerator.

Dan Heng watches you. He watches through concerned eyes. It makes him sad that you always seem to wake up feeling absolutely nothing. No motivation or anything. And it's not like your sad or anything like that. It just hurts his hurt seeing you suffer. 

Ever since you first met him you've been very open to him about your depression, but once he moved in with you it's been more apparent. It's just not fair. It's not fair that a beautiful and kind-hearted individual such as yourself struggled so fiercely to function. You never had energy, you were always tired and your body constantly ached. 

He watches you take your pills every morning. This has got to be the fifth anti-depressant you've tried and it makes his heart ache to see you get absolutely no relief. It's like you're immune to everything you try. All he can do is be here for you, but he wishes so deeply that he could do more.

You slowly eat your breakfast and take your pills, standing in the kitchen for about 5 extra minutes just to stare at the remaining water in your glass. When you were little you used to always drink chocolate milk with your breakfast. That was too much effort now. You zone out, staring at your water, thinking about how much things have changed.

Your mother used to call you a “ray of sunshine”, her “sweet baby”. You never lost that kindness from your mother but it seems you certainly lost yourself. These are things that only Dan Heng can see in you now though. And no matter how hard you tried you could never see it in yourself. If it was the middle of the night and the sun wasn’t awake to mock you, this certainly is something that would make you tear up. But you physically couldn't cry right now. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by your boyfriend's arms wrapping around your waist.

“You okay?” He asks, chin pressing against your shoulder as he speaks. 

“Yeah.” You reply. Which is the truth. Nothing is ever exactly wrong, it's just never right. This is just how things always are. The cause of your depression was a chemical imbalance, there was nothing that could be fixed. So overall you’d say you’re pretty okay.

“Are you sure?” He lets out a breathy laugh. “You’ve been staring at that water for quite a while.”

You give him a soft smile. It’s not often your serious boyfriend lets out a laugh, but it seems even he knows the power his joy has over you. Coming over here and letting out a laugh into your ear, it’s enough to help you push forward for today.

You turn around, now facing Dan Heng, his hands now resting on your hips while you lean against the counter. Before you started dating him you would never have guessed how important physical touch was for him, he had always been so distant, wanting nothing more than to lock himself in another room and isolate himself for hours. 

Dan Heng certainly preferred to be alone, but ever since he met you he realized her much more enjoys being alone with you. Moments like this, when the world is still and it’s just the two of you, with some peace and quiet. That’s what he lives for. 

You were tempted to speak but then Dan Heng let out a sigh and rested his head on your shoulder. You let your concern show by moving your hand to his back, but you knew that if he wanted to talk he would. Perhaps right now all he needed was some quiet.

After a minute or two of silently rubbing Dan Heng’s back, he spoke. “You know you can talk to me right?”

You have nothing to talk about.

“I love you, I would love to listen, I would love to support you.”

“You’re already my biggest supporter.” You let out a giggle, hoping it would soften the mood a little more. 

“I want to help.” He’s more serious than ever.

“You do help, baby. More than you’ll ever know.” Your comforting words also help to comfort you. It was true. Even before you started dating Dan Heng had been your best friend and biggest supporter. Honestly, without him, you don’t even know if you’d still be here. But you don’t tell him that. He doesn’t need to know that you ever think of not being here. 

He stands straight up again to brush his hand across your cheek and that's when you can see it. His tears. There aren't many but he is without a doubt crying.

“Hey, what's wrong?” You ask him, no longer leaning against to counter, hands cupping his face, deep concern wavering in your voice.

“Y/N, you’re the most loving, kind, most perfect soul I’ve ever met, so why is the world doing you so wrong? You deserve to wake up every day full of excitement, full of energy, ready to take on the day. You deserve to smile, to laugh, genuine ones. Genuine smiles and genuine laughs.” Your eyes start to water, you continue to hold onto his face as tears roll down his cheeks and onto your fingers. “You deserve to be happy, Y/N. It’s not fair. You do so much good for so many people, for me. You make me smile, you make me happy, you make me feel alive. I don’t feel like I need to run anymore because I have you. So why must the world put you through so much pain?”

You had never seen him like this. 

“Shhhh…” you hush him and he looks at you, no longer breaking eye contact to speak. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been because of you Dan Heng,” you promise him. “I finally feel loved.”

After a moment of looking at you, he kisses you. Its soft and warm, a kiss to tell you that he’s not going anywhere and that he’ll be with you forever. 

With him… you’ll get through this.

[compo67]

struggle bus

this is a mental health/chronically ill post/personal info dump

cn for suicidal ideations, bipolar disorder, depression, mental health

my therapist is on leave for a month, so in the meantime, i'm meeting with my DBT group leader for therapy once a week

the mental health struggle has been real this past month. lots of depression, anxiety, and voices that get so loud that tell me what's even the point of living

i struggle a lot with managing my bipolar disorder and depression. i struggle with getting dressed and showered most days. even the stimulants i'm on don't help as much as they used to before. i spent all day last saturday asleep or crying. i lost a whole day of working on my big bang, something really important to me, because i just couldn't wrangle my brain into functioning in a positive or healthy way

i'm hopeful about sitting with my psychiatrist this thursday and talking about switching antidepressants and maybe upping either the mood stabilizer or the anti-psychotic

i'm also hopeful that he'll be on board with one of the two treatments my other providers have recommended: keta and TMS

both are concerning to me, but they're both recommended for treatment resistant depression

i can't hardly picture what it's like not to be depressed

i know this might be weird to read, because i write such happy/romantic stuff, but it has been a continuous struggle to deal with being so depressed, especially in the past 2 years

i can't keep up writing or my patreon as much as i want to because i'm either too depressed or in too much pain and i just... feel like i let people down because of it

i have been avoiding doing really important paperwork (applying for financial hardship assistance and LTD stuff)

now it *has* to be turned in and the deadline is looming

coming back to this post a few hours later and i feel a bit better sharing this. it's important to me that i share not just the happy stuff but the other stuff that's going on too

i know i will get out of this spiral/flare. it's going to take time and effort, but i *want* to do it

it just gets really hard sometimes

especially when i'm under so much pressure from financial stress

like, i am doing my best to take my benefits and dig myself out of debt while at the same time trying to stay afloat with things like my car payment, car insurance, gas, phone bill, groceries, medical/dental premiums, medical expenses, and everything else

i am hopeful that doing some light SP work will be another income stream and lessen the pressure, but i can't depend on that until you know... i actually start. and who knows how many hours or projects i'll be offered and can physically do?

this flare up has just been awful. i've been flared up since the end of march and prednisone is not doing the trick, which means it's not inflammation, it's probably just EDS

i say just EDS like it's a cold or something when it's a genetic debilitating disorder/syndrome

i think EDS is one of my biggest struggles. it just takes so much energy to keep my joints together

sigh

i just want to be back working full-time, thriving and surviving on my own

but it's not possible at the moment

if i go back to work too soon, i'm just going to wind up in the same place i was in 2021--a big mess

i've been on and am still on the struggle bus

even if it's a struggle bus, i still want to stay on a bus

i still want to be "here"

even if some voices get really loud and try to convince me otherwise

if you made it this far reading, please know i appreciate it

you didn't have to read this but you did and therefore, i <3 you

things will get better.

[vizthedatum]

At the start of the pandemic and up until about sixish months before I left them, I was in shambles.

I had been struggling to complete my PhD (and I honestly don't know how I managed that one - even though I do know. Of course, I know. It's just hard to connect to myself sometimes. :/ Is it just the PTSD from all of it?).

I threw up a lot. Nearly every day.

I know why initially. Usually, it's because I would dab cannabis at very high temperatures when I had debilitating chronic pain. I had sworn off opioids, and NSAIDs were causing these small lesions in my GI ... and bleeding and IBS ugh. Then, I'd take more (edibles, dabs, etc.) because of the pain. Then I took even more - I kept getting so high that I couldn't feel my body so I could just concentrate on my work. And then I took even more because my ex/spouse... hated me. They loved me and hated me.

In 2019, my ex/spouse bullied me into not taking my painkillers during a depressive episode despite my healing from a broken arm.

They bullied me a lot.

In 2020, when I started having panic attacks more frequently, my psychiatrist prescribed klonopin - the lowest dose, of which I was to take a quarter or half. I argued for that dose! I didn't want to take it at all.

My ex/spouse went on and on about how I would develop a dependency. My psychiatrist kept affirming to me that I would not be dependent on this dose. It took a very long time before I was able to take it regularly. I would look at it and skip taking it.

Meanwhile, due to my panic attacks, I could barely remember days - I was in constant horror.

I remember throwing up on my favorite comforter - a comforter that I had saved up to get - it was a teal peacock print and too expensive for what it was but I loved it so much. I threw up on it, and they just threw it away. They threw it away! Neither one of us had the energy to do much of anything. I was at a low point, and they were dissociating. They stayed perpetually dissociated and stoned.

Later, I remember being in such a state that I typed up incredibly morbid messages on our cursed queer pandemic Discord server... and then people deleted the messages (although other people's morbid messages stayed) because... why? Why? Why was I not allowed? Because Jon and my other friend thought I was being extra? Because we didn't want someone to call the cops even though my brother did? Because I wasn't allowed to be anxious and sad? Because I'm too intense? Fuck you.

*too tired to keep typing*

[nayialovecat]

BPAD (period of manic) / ChAD (epizod maniakalny)

On the last occasion, I wrote about depressive episodes. Today, on the occasion of World Bipolar Day, I decided to say a few words about the other pole of BPAD.

This time it is much more difficult, because in my case the manic episodes are extremely mild (the so-called mild hypomania), they are almost harmless and desirable (especially in comparison with my severe depressive episodes), so to make yourself aware of how dangerous a depressive episode is, I had to search for information about people who are not so lucky.

Let's start by explaining the difference between manic and depressive episodes. As the name of the disorder "bipolar" implies, these are two opposite poles and absolutely everything known from a depressive episode in a manic case is inverted one hundred and eighty degrees. In a depressive episode, you have no energy for anything - in a manic episode you have too much of it. In depressive people, you sleep many hours a day - in manic, even an hour or two of sleep is enough to function fully. And here the first danger begins, because although you don't feel asleep, such treatment of your body overloads it. But more on that in a moment. When in a depressive episode an ill person thinks he/she is useless, that he is a burden for others, that he should not and cannot do anything - in a manic episode it is exactly the opposite: an ill person is certain of his/her infallibility, his/her abilities, and his/her strength. Additionally, when we are dealing with a severe course of a manic episode, they can occur (like on the side of a depressive episode there are depressive delusions, suicidal thoughts and the desire to mutilate) - various types of mental disorders such as hallucinations, misinterpretation of facts, and even be accompanied by a lot of more dangerous schizophrenia and various types of delusions and manias (e.g. persecution). However, a person during a manic period has one thing in common with a person in a depressive period: they absolutely should not be left to themselves.

Again, I would like to share with you a handful of good advice on how to deal with a person at this stage of bipolar affective disorder... Some points will be based on my own experiences (as I wrote many times: I have a very mild manic episode), others on the knowledge I gained from other sources. If something is missing here, I'm sorry, I have much less experience with this part of bipolar.

You should not leave a person in a manic period to themselves. The mania must not be underestimated, like depression must not be underestimated. Different people react differently and have a different course of the disorder - for some (like me) it is just a flow of ideas and willingness to act. In such a case, it is enough to inhibit the more risky ideas, not to allow, for example, to resign from work at the expense of a "new business idea", and to remind about certain obvious things, such as the need to eat or sleep. However, there are people who begin to behave... unbearably during this period. They are more impetuous, violent, maybe more swearing or showing aggression. There are people who get paranoid, stop trusting others, make strange or even stupid decisions.

A manic episode involves an increase in energy - so it's a good idea to put that energy back on track. Perhaps it is worth suggesting to such a person that he/she start practicing some sport or engage in some activity (necessarily giving visual effects - people in a manic period do not like to perform activities whose effects cannot be seen immediately). This will help relieve energy and tension, allow such a person to focus on something specific, and will not allow for racing thoughts and the implementation of dangerous ideas.

It is essential to remind the ill person to sleep at least these six hours a day and eat at least three wholesome meals. Being in a manic episode, it's really easy to forget about it - there were times when I slept 1-2 hours a day and spent the whole day having a single tea. However, it really destroys the body, it's not healthy for it - that's why you must even force the ill person to go to bed or eat and make sure that they actually do it.

Medicaments - again, you should be reminded of medicaments and be careful about taking them, not only those for bipolar disorder, but also all others. You must know that during the manic period, the mind of a sick person is at the stage "I know everything better than others" (also from doctors) and "everything is better than okay with me, why should I poison myself with it?" Which means that they very easily give up medicaments they think are unnecessary. Or it may be that, in their opinion, they don't need any medicaments.

If he/she has a severe manic episode (with, for example, delusions or other psychotic illnesses), talking may help. Just again: let's not try logic. Logic doesn't really work with most mental illnesses. It is worth listening carefully to the ill person, even agreeing them, even if they say absolutely incoherent things. The thoughts of ill people wander very often, they can change the topic of conversation even while uttering one sentence. When the conversation takes a wrong turn, it stimulates the ill person a lot, triggers aggression in her/him, you can try to gently direct the conversation in a safe direction, it's necessary to try to calm down. Most often, however, it is enough to just listen and not show the interlocutor that he/she is talking stupid or that we don't understand something - so you should show a lot of understanding and patience.

Manic people are more prone to taking risks and are often bold enough to be stupid. They are willing to try things that threaten their life or position - therefore they can easily fall into drug addiction, gambling or alcoholism. They may take loans, become more promiscuous or quit their job overnight. Be vigilant.

I didn't write about it in my journal about depressive episodes, 'cause I thought it was obvious, but I will write here: very often it is necessary to provide an ill person with the help of a psychiatrist who will help an ill person master certain techniques of silencing.

Well, personally, I still think depressive episodes are a much more dangerous part of bipolar affective disorder, but the truth is, all of bipolar disorder is insanely dangerous. In the case of a depressive episode, the danger is more focused on an ill person - in the case of a manic episode, it also transfers to an ill person's environment (he/she may pose a threat to life for those around him, e.g. by accidentally starting a fire or driving in a dangerous way in a car). That is why it's so important to be aware of the existence of this disorder and to treating it as soon as possible by the ill person.

I hope that with this text I will slightly increase people's awareness of bipolar affective disorder and maybe help someone who has it or knows someone who has this mental ill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Przy ostatniej okazji pisałam o epizodach depresyjnych. Dzisiaj, z okazji Światowego Dnia Choroby Afektywnej Dwubiegunowej postanowiłam powiedzieć kilka słów na temat drugiego bieguna ChAD.

Tym razem mam o wiele trudniej, bo w moim przypadku epizody maniakalne mają wyjątkowo łagodny przebieg (tzw. hipomania o łagodnym przebiegu), są wręcz nieszkodliwe i pożądane (zwłaszcza w zestawieniu z moimi ciężkimi epizodami depresyjnymi), dlatego, aby uzmysłowić nawet samej sobie, jak niebezpieczny jest epizod depresyjny, musiałam poszukać informacji o osobach, które takiego szczęścia nie mają.

Zacznijmy od wyjaśnienia, czym różni się epizod maniakalny od depresyjnego. Jak sama nazwa choroby "dwubiegunowa" wskazuje, są to dwa przeciwne bieguny i absolutnie wszystko, co było znane z epizodu depresyjnego w przypadku maniakalnego jest odwrócone o sto osiemdziesiąt stopni. W epizodzie depresyjnym nie ma się na nic energii – w maniakalnym ma się jej aż za dużo. W depresyjnym sypia się po kilkanaście godzin na dobę – w maniakalnym wystarcza nawet godzina lub dwie snu, aby funkcjonować w pełni sprawnie. I już tu zaczyna się pierwsze niebezpieczeństwo, bo choć nie ma się uczucia niewyspania, takie traktowanie swojego ciała mocno je przeciąża. Ale o tym za chwilę. Gdy w epizodzie depresyjnym osobie chorej wydaje się, że do niczego się nie nadaje, że jest dla innych obciążeniem, że nie powinna i nie potrafi niczego zrobić – w maniakalnym jest dokładnie odwrotnie: osoba chora jest pewna swojej nieomylności, swoich umiejętności, swojej siły. Dodatkowo, gdy mamy do czynienia z ciężkim przebiegiem epizodu maniakalnego, mogą dochodzić (tak ja po stronie epizodu depresyjnego są urojenia depresyjne, myśli samobójcze i chęć okaleczania się) – różnego rodzaju zaburzenia umysłowe takie jak halucynacje, nadinterpretacja faktów, a nawet mogą towarzyszyć mu dużo bardziej niebezpieczne schizofrenia i różnego rodzaju urojenia oraz manie (np. prześladowcza). Osobę w czasie trwania okresu maniakalnego łączy jednak z osobą w okresie depresyjnym jedna rzecz: absolutnie nie powinna być pozostawiona samej sobie.

Znów chciałabym się podzielić z Wami garścią dobrych rad, jak postępować z osobą będącą na tym etapie choroby afektywnej dwubiegunowej… Kilka punktów będzie opartych na moich własnych doświadczeniach (jak wielokrotnie pisałam: mam bardzo łagodny przebieg epizodów maniakalnych), pozostałe na wiedzy, którą zdobyłam z innych źródeł. Jeśli czegoś tu brakuje, bardzo przepraszam, mam zdecydowanie dużo mniejsze doświadczenie z tą częścią dwubiegunówki.

Nie należy zostawiać osoby będącej w okresie maniakalnym samej sobie. Nie wolno bagatelizować maniactwa tak samo jak nie wolno bagatelizować depresji. Różne osoby różnie reagują i mają różny przebieg choroby – u niektórych (jak u mnie) jest to po prostu przypływ pomysłów i chęci działania. W takim wypadku wystarczy jedynie hamować co ryzykowniejsze pomysły, nie pozwolić na przykład na rezygnację z pracy kosztem „nowego pomysłu na biznes”, a także przypominać o pewnych oczywistościach, jak potrzeba spożywania pokarmów czy snu. Są jednak osoby, które w tym okresie zaczynają zachowywać się… nieznośnie. Są bardziej porywcze, gwałtowne, może więcej przeklinają lub przejawiają agresję. Są osoby, którym włączają się paranoje, przestają ufać innym, podejmują dziwne albo wręcz głupie decyzje.

Epizod maniakalny wiąże się ze zwiększeniem energii – dobrym pomysłem zatem jest skierowanie owej energii na właściwe tory. Może warto zasugerować takiej osobie, aby zaczęła uprawiać jakiś sport albo zaangażowała się w jakąś czynność (koniecznie dającą wizualne efekty – osoby w okresie maniakalnym nie lubią wykonywać czynności, których efektów nie widać od razu). To pomoże rozładować energię i napięcie, pozwoli takiej osobie skupić się na czymś konkretnym, a nie pozwoli na gonitwy myśli i realizację niebezpiecznych pomysłów.

Należy koniecznie przypominać osobie chorej o tym, że powinna spać przynajmniej te sześć godzin dziennie i jeść co najmniej trzy pełnowartościowe posiłki. Będąc w epizodzie maniakalnym naprawdę łatwo o tym zapomnieć – zdarzały mi się okresy, kiedy sypiałam po 1-2 godziny dziennie i cały dzień spędzałam na pojedynczej herbacie. To jednak naprawdę wyniszcza organizm, nie jest dla niego zdrowe – dlatego trzeba wręcz wymuszać na osobie chorej, aby kładła się spać czy jadła i zadbać, aby faktycznie to robiła.

Leki – znów należy przypominać o lekach i pilnować ich zażywania, nie tylko tych na chorobę afektywną dwubiegunową, ale też wszystkich innych. Musicie wiedzieć, że w trakcie okresu maniakalnego umysł osoby chorej znajduje się na etapie ��wiem wszystko lepiej od innych” (także od lekarzy) oraz „przecież wszystko ze mną jest lepiej niż w porządku, po co mam się tym truć?”. Co oznacza, że bardzo łatwo rezygnują z leków, które ich zdaniem są zbędne. A może tak być, że w ich opinii wszystkie leki są im zbędne.

W przypadku przebiegu ciężkiego epizodu maniakalnego (któremu towarzyszą np. urojenia lub inne schorzenia psychotyczne) pomóc może rozmowa. Tylko znowu: nie próbujmy logiki. Logika naprawdę nie działa w przypadku większości chorób psychicznych. Warto za to wysłuchać dokładnie osoby chorej, nawet jej przytakiwać, choćby mówiła rzeczy absolutnie nieskładne. Myśli osób chorych często bardzo błądzą, potrafią zmieniać temat rozmowy nawet w trakcie wypowiadania jednego zdania. Gdy rozmowa przybiera zły obrót, pobudza bardzo osobę chorą, wyzwala w niej agresje, można próbować delikatnie kierować rozmowę w bezpiecznym kierunku, koniecznie próbować wyciszyć i uspokoić. Najczęściej wystarczy jednak po prostu słuchać i nie wykazywać rozmówcy, że mówi głupoty, albo że czegoś nie rozumiemy – należy wykazywać zatem wiele zrozumienia i cierpliwości.

Osoby w okresie maniakalnym mają większą skłonność do podejmowania ryzyka i często cechują się odwagą graniczącą z głupotą. Są skłonne próbować rzeczy zagrażających ich życiu lub pozycji – dlatego łatwo mogą popaść w narkomanię, hazard czy alkoholizm. Mogą brać kredyty, decydować się na większą rozwiązłość seksualną czy rzucić pracę z dnia na dzień. Należy zachowywać czujność.

Nie pisałam o tym w moim dzienniku dotyczącym epizodów depresyjnych, bo uznałam, że to oczywiste, ale tutaj już napiszę: bardzo często niezbędne jest objęcie chorego pomocą lekarza psychiatry, który pomoże choremu opanować pewne techniki wyciszenia.

Cóż, osobiście nadal uważam, że okres depresyjny jest dużo bardziej niebezpieczną częścią ChAD, ale prawda jest taka, że cała choroba afektywna dwubiegunowa jest szalenie niebezpieczna. W przypadku epizodu depresyjnego niebezpieczeństwo jest bardziej skupione na osobie chorej – w przypadku epizodu maniakalnego, przenosi się także na otoczenie chorego (chory może stwarzać zagrożenie życia dla osób wokół siebie, np. niechcący wzniecając pożar, albo poruszając się w niebezpieczny sposób samochodem). Dlatego tak ważna jest świadomość istnienia tej choroby i podjęcie jej jak najszybszego leczenia przez osobę chorą.

Mam nadzieję, że tym tekstem odrobinę zwiększę świadomość ludzi na temat ChAD i być może pomogę komuś, kto się z nią boryka albo zna kogoś chorego.

[all-things-skam]

Jens’ season | Chapter ten (finale)

Saturday, March 7th

They arrived late in Utrecht. Or, early.

Lucas’ father had refused to make the drive but allowed him to go and take the train if he wanted to. Jens get that they were divorced, but still. She was his ex-wife, the mother of his child. She must still have a place in his heart.

Apparently not.

Lucas had been fidgety and tense during the whole train ride, biting his lip and checking his phone every ten seconds in case there were any updates from his dad - who was in contact with the clinic -, but there weren’t.

Jens felt helpless. He didn’t know what to do or even say, having never been in this situation before. A part of him wanted to comfort Lucas, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but he wasn’t a psychiatrist nor a doctor. He didn’t know shit.

So, he stayed quiet, his head pressed against the cold window of the train, his right hand holding onto Lucas’ tightly.

When they got to the train station, someone was there to pick them up. He had blond hair and a darker beard, and seemed older than them. An old friend, Lucas said. He dropped the two teenagers at the clinic and told Lucas to call him if he needed a ride before driving off.

The door of the clinic was unlocked despite being the middle of the night. They walked in and the lady at the front desk frowned, seeing Jens and Lucas walking into the building. ‘’Hello. How may I help you?’’

‘’My...my mom’s been admitted here a few hours ago,’’ Lucas replied, his voice strained. ‘’I’m here to see her.’’

‘’I’m sorry, visits have ended hours ago. You should come back in the morning-’’

Alas, Lucas wasn’t taking no for answer tonight. He was scared and worried for his mother and wouldn’t calm down until he sees her.

‘’No! I took a train all the way here. I have to see her,’’ he insisted, hoping the woman will make an exception for him. ‘’She needs me, I- Please.’’

Still hesitating, the desk lady glanced at them, noticing the tired look on their faces and the backpack on Lucas’ shoulder and sighed, giving in. ‘’Patient name?’’

‘’Lieke Van Der Heijden.’’

She typed in the name in her computer, giving Lucas an apologetic look when reading his mother’s file. ‘’I can’t let you go in the room past visiting hours. But, I’ll call up the psychiatrist on shift and he’ll be able to give you details about your mother.’’

You could see on Lucas’ face that he wasn’t completely satisfied with the bargain, but it was better than nothing.

Jens smiled at the woman. ‘’Thank you.’’

.

Jens didn’t go in.

He waited on a couch in the waiting area of the clinic while Lucas went to talk with the doctor, not wanting to intrude Mrs. Van Der Heijden’s privacy. While Lucas wanted him by his side at the clinic, it didn’t mean Jens had to be all up in their businesses. And, if Lucas needed him, he’ll come to him.

Having nothing else to do, Jens checked his phone, seeing the group chat blowing up with unread messages and a few personal ones from Robbe, asking what was going on and where the hell he and Lucas went.

Did you guy ditch us to fuck? Moyo had bluntly asked.

In another situation, Jens would’ve rolled his eyes and laughed - maybe he would’ve told him to fuck off -, but not tonight. Instead, he he simply told them that Lucas had a family emergency and had to go home - sparing them the whole details for privacy purpose.

Half an hour later, Lucas returned and filled the empty seat beside Jens. His hair was a mess from touching them so much - a habit he picked up when he was stressed or anxious. Jens slipped his phone back in his pocket, giving his attention to his boyfriend.

''How is she?''

''Sedated,'' Lucas responded, forgetting to laugh at his own bad joke. ''Sorry.''

Jens shook his head. ''It's okay.''

‘’A neighbor called the cops. They said she was acting like a lunatic, throwing out my father's last belongings on her porch since 6am and was planning to redecorate the whole house to 'clean it from his bad energy'. The doctor said it was a psychotic episode. She hasn't been taking her meds for a few weeks.’’

Lucas's parents' divorce was messy and heartbreaking. She truly loved Lucas' father - he was her high school lover -, but the man didn't want anything to do with her after being diagnosed although he had vowed to love her in sickness and health.

‘’I don't understand. She sounded very lucid last week on the phone. I should’ve gone home-’’

Shaking his head, Jens didn’t let him finish. ‘’Don’t do that. Don’t guilt yourself for something you can’t change. You’re here, now. It’s all that matters.’’

‘’If I had been here, I could’ve made sure she was taking her medication. I always do. Sometimes, she forget...and other times, she doesn’t want to take them. When she’s off her medication for too long, things gets bad and she has psychotic episodes. Dad and I tried to have someone from the clinic to come and check up on her, but it’s really expensive and we can’t afford that. That’s what he said. Maybe he doesn't want to pay for her, I don’t know.’’

It was simply an assumption, but Jens hoped it wasn't true. If so, Mr. Van der Heijden was a very shitty person.

Feeling a wave of tiredness hit him, Jens glanced at the clock in the waiting room and then to Lucas who's head was resting on his shoulder, trying to control his anxious riddled brain.

‘’It’s late. Should we head...home? You need sleep.’’

Lucas shook his head stubbornly. ‘’No. I need to stay here. I need to be there when my mom will wake up.’’

''The clinic had made an exception for a short visit and a conversation with the doctor. You'll have to wait till visiting hours to see her. We can't wait seven hours here.''

The night had been long and stressful and Jens couldn't wait to head to bed. He understood Lucas' want to stay at the clinic, but sleeping in those uncomfortable waiting chair would only make him feel sore and shitty in the morning. Lucas needed rest. Good rest.

‘’They gave her medication. She’ll be out for a couple more hours. We’ll come back in the morning.’’

‘’But-’’

‘’We can ask the office lady to call you when your mom is awake. How about that?’’

To Jens' relief, Lucas agreed.

.

It was almost 10am when the doorbell rang, stirring Jens from his deep, dreamless sleep. He groaned, the noise keeping going again and again - unable to ignore it. Who the hell could be at the door so early? He almost yelled at Lotte to go open, but remembered he was in Utrecht, at Lucas' house.

Fighting sleep, Jens opened his eyes - keeping them open was the real challenge here - and saw Lucas still fast asleep beside him. He smiled, soft snores coming from Lucas' slightly parted lips. It took Lucas over an hour to fall asleep this morning, constantly checking his phone every five minutes to see if he had any missed calls from the clinic. Jens had pulled him into his arms and played with his hair, knowing it worked as a kid when his mom would do it.

Now, the doorbell was getting on Jens' nerves and he wanted it to stop.

Carefully removing himself from Lucas' grasp, Jens got up and searched for his pants from yesterday, not about to answer the door in his boxers. He was barely awake enough to function as he walked down the hallway to get to the door, not caring that he was looking like a mess right now. That’s what a middle of the night bus ride and falling asleep at 4am does to you.

Before opening the door, Jens checked through the peephole and saw a short girl with curly hair and a boy with darker skin and messy hair whom he recognized as Isa and Kes.

A frown formed on Isa’s forehead when the door opened, confused why someone else was answering and not her friend. ‘’Who are you? Where’s Luc?’’

‘’Erm, I’m Jens. You’re Isa, right?’’

She nodded slowly, still a bit confused until she realized who Jens was. ‘’Oh my god! You’re Luc’ boyfriend aren't you?’’

Jens nodded, eyes squinting at the brightness outside. ‘’Does Luc knows you were coming? Did he tell you about-’’ He interrupted himself, uncertain if Isa and Kes knew about Mrs. Van der Heijden’s mental illness.

Isa hummed. '‘Yeah. I figured he’d be here in the morning.’’

Jens didn’t have to invite them in, the two walking right in and making themself home in the living room.

‘’Where’s Luc?’’ Kes asked, looking around for his best friend.

‘’He’s sleeping. The night has been long.’’

Kes hummed. ‘’How is he?’’

‘’Not good,’’ Jens honestly responded as he sat down in the armchair.

The trio didn't have time to engage in much of a conversation, footsteps coming from the hallway a few minutes after sitting down. They tried to be quiet to let Lucas sleep some more, but failed. Or, maybe it was the emptiness in the bad that woke him?

‘’What are you guys doing here?’’ Lucas asked, seeing his friends and boyfriend in the living room. He was wearing Jens' hoodie, finding the comfort he lacked of when he woke up to an empty bed.

Isa stood, meeting Lucas halfway and pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back before going to sit with Jens in the armchair, unbothered by his friends' presence.

Kes, on the other hand, wasn't as nice as Isa and looked at Lucas with hard eyes laced with deception. ‘’Why didn’t you tell me about your mom? I had to learn from Isa who heard it from Liv who was talking with Ralf. We’re best friends, Luc.’’

‘’Sorry you weren’t the first thing on my mind when my dad called me to say my mom was in a clinic.''

Kes sighed, changing his tone. ‘’You know I didn’t mean it like that...’’

‘’How is she?’’ Isa asked, switching the conversation.

‘’She’s in a clinic, Isa. How well can she be?’’ Lucas responded, his tone a little too harsh.

Unhappy with the way he spoke to his friend, Jens put han hand on Lucas’ thigh, a silent way to tell him to not get worked up. Even if Isa’s question was stupid to him, it wasn't a reason to talk to his friends like that. They came here because they cared about Lucas and his mom, not to get yelled at.

''Have you seen her?'' Kes asked, blaming Lucas' attitude on stress and morning grumpiness.

''No. Visiting hours were over long ago. I'll be going today.''

''Do you need us to come with?''

Although Kes' offer was nice, Lucas already had an emotional support. ''No. Jens is here.'' He leaned into Jens' chest and Jens kissed Lucas' shoulder over the hoodie, confirming his words.

‘’Tell your mom we say hi, okay?’’ Kes said.

‘’Will do.’’

.

Sunday, March 8th

The past two days had been difficult and emotional for Lucas - and Jens, by bias.

Lucas had spent hours at the clinic at his mom's bedside, just sitting there and watching her sleep most of the time, too high on meds to stay awake. Sometimes, she'd talk to him, but never for long. She was happy that her son was here, but also felt guilty that he had to come home just because she went off her meds again. Lucas denied her wrong assumptions and promised her that he had come here on his free will, that he wanted to be with her, but she still insisted that she was disrupting her son's life and being a burden to him like she was to his father. Lucas knew it was the depression and meds talking, but it still hurt.

When Lucas left his mother's room with tears in his eyes, Jens decided it was enough for the day. Taking care of someone didn't mean allowing them to disturb your own mental health. You need to know when to take some space from them, even if it's just for a few hours.

Back at Lucas', Jens made them dinner while Lucas took a shower. He was a terrible cook so pastas will have to do - not that there was a lot of options to cook with in the pantries and fridge. Ten minutes later, Lucas came out of his shower and Jens brought the bowls of pastas to the living room.

''Talk to me. I need a distraction.''

''Okay...'' Jens racked his brain, trying to think of something to talk about when he remembered that he hadn't told Lucas about the move yet. ''My parents are separating. My mom, sister and I will be moving.''

By the look on his boyfriend's face, Jens realized he should have added more details in the first place. Now, Lucas must be thinking he's moving from Antwerp. He was supposed to distract him, not make him sadder. Well done, Jens...

He shook his head, swallowing his bite of pasta. ''I'm not changing school, don't worry. We are just moving to a new neighborhood where the apartments are cheaper.''

Relief washed over Lucas' face. ''Hopefully closer to mine.'' He smirked and Jens hummed.

They lived relatively close to each other, but they could be closer. Living closer would mean easily meeting up in the middle of the night when one of them couldn't fall asleep instead of texting or take the bus together to school.

''That would be nice, wouldn't it?''

Lucas nodded before snickering. ''As if we don't see each other almost every day already.''

Jens laughed. ''Wanna watch a movie?''

The brunet shrugged. ''If you want.''

''Any preferences?''

''No, you can choose.''

''You trust my movie taste? Be careful what you wish for. We might end up watching the Notebook or some other chick flick shit.''

A small smile curved on Lucas' lips for the first time since Friday and Jens took it as a win.

''I know I must not be fun to be around right now and this probably isn't the weekend you had planned, but I...I’m just not in the mood to do anything. All I can think about it my mom and-’’

Jens shook his head, understanding. ‘’It’s okay. I don’t mind. I like chill nights too. As long as I’m with you.’’

Lucas wrinkled his face in disgust. ‘’Ew. Don’t say that. I’m gonna vomit.’’

‘’You don’t like cheesy?’’

‘’No. Jens?’’ He hummed in response, but didn’t budge. ’’You might think that you aren’t helping, but you are. By making sure I get enough sleep, eat and don’t get stuck in my head too much. You distract me with movies and cuddles - lots of cuddles. All of this helps me a lot, I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.’’

''Look who's the cheesy one, now!''

''Shut up. This was supposed to be cute, but you ruined it...''

.

Monday, March 9th

Goodbyes, even temporary ones, always hurt.

Jens’ arms were around Lucas, holding him tight, dreading the moment they’ll have to part. If it hadn't been for his mother’s request, Jens would’ve stayed longer, but Fenna wasn’t too happy to learn that her son had left the country without any warnings and skipped school. She understood the situation, sending well wishes to Lucas and his mom, but still wanted him to come home.

Lucas sighed, sad blue eyes looking at Jens. ‘’I don’t want you to go.’’

Give it to Jens and Lucas to make their departures dramatic and seem like they were parting for war when it was only a couple days. They had been standing at the train station for half an hour, clinging to each other and being one of those couples.

‘’I don’t want to either, but I can’t disobey my mom. She’s already mad that I left without warning. Lucky for me, she loves you or else I’d be grounded for weeks.’’

Lucas smiled before pushing his face in Jens’ shirt, not caring that he was behaving like a baby at the train station. ‘’I’ll miss you,’’ he said quietly.

‘’That’s why I gave you my hoodie. It’ll feel like I’m with you when you close your eyes,’’ Jens explained. He kissed Lucas’ temple, his face hidden from view.

‘’I still prefer the real thing...’’

‘’Me too,’’ Jens agreed. ‘’But, it’ll have to do for now.’’

A voice echoed through the station, warning travelers of the trains that will be leaving soon and, sadly for them, Jens’ train was in the list. Lucas recognized the number and clutched the back of his boyfriend’s shirt, refusing to let go.

''My train is here,'' Jens announced, trying remove Lucas's grip from him but also not wanting to part either.

.

Tuesday, March 10th

After dinner, Jens sat on the floor, surrounded by the mess of his bedroom. He was folding and packing clothes, getting ready for the move when a text from Lucas came in and distracted him, abandoning the pile of clothes.

Lucas: I don’t know when I’ll come back

Jens: That’s okay. Take your time. Your mom needs you. I’ll be here waiting ❤

Lucky for him, his mom was there to keep her children on track with the packing. They were moving the following Friday and the whole house had to be packed up. It was a small delay, but doable if everyone helped.

''Have you started packing yet?''

''Yes.''

Fenna looked around the room and raised an eyebrow, not seeing much progress since she last came here to check - which was two hours ago. ''Quit talking to Lucas and pack your bedroom, it won't pack itself. Even Lotte has started putting her toys in boxes.''

Jens frowned, raising his eyes from his phone. ''How do you know it's Lucas I'm talking to? Why not Robbe or Moyo?''

''Because you have that smile on your face when you talk to him. Others might not notice it, but I'm your mom. I see these things.''

A light blush coated his cheeks.

Jens: Gotta get back to packing...😞

Lucas: 🥺

Jens: We'll facetime tonight, okay?

Lucas: I'll wait for your call. Love you ❤

.

Friday, March 13th

A mix of laughters and shoutings filled Jens' bedroom as the four boys battled at video games. They were in the middle of a heated competition between Jens and Moyo when the doorbell went off, forcing them to pause the game.

Jens handed the controller to Robbe, being the only trustable person out of them, and went downstairs to answer the door. A confused frown and a wide grin shared space on Jens’ face, surprised to see his boyfriend on the other side.

''What the-''

''Missed me?'' Lucas asked, a small grin on his lips, interrupting Jens.

Jens' grin broadened and he pulled Lucas into a hug after getting him inside, shutting the door behind. Lucas returned the embrace, snaking his arms behind Jens' neck, missing the closeness of his boyfriend.

''What are you doing here? You couldn’t get away from me for long, uh?’’ Jens teased instead of pointing out Lucas’ tired look, the bags under his eyes looking darker than at the train station on Monday.

Lucas rolled his eyes. ‘’Yeah, I missed your pretty face too much.’’ He squished Jens’s cheeks with his hand, making him pull a fishy face, and laughing at how ridiculous he looked.

‘’I knew it, you can’t get enough of me.’’ Smug look on his face, Jens leaned in to kiss Lucas.

Sooner than usual, Jens’ tongue pushed past Lucas’ lips and Lucas slipped his hands under Jens’ shirt, feeling the warm skin under the grey cotton, catching a soft sigh of content from the taller boy.

They hadn’t had a lot of occasions to kiss more than a quick peck since last Friday and it felt good to share a longer kiss. The weekend had been emotionally difficult for Lucas and his head wasn’t in a mood to make out despite having the house to themselves all weekend.

For a moment, the two boys almost forgot that they were standing in Jens’ entry.

Lucas pulled away, but kept his hands on Jens. ‘’I’m only here for the night, I’m going back tomorrow morning. I came to pick up a few things from my dad’s...and see you.’’

Jens hummed and leaned to kiss Lucas again when loud arguing was heard from upstairs, catching Lucas' attention and making him frown.

''You're having people over?’’ he questioned, feeling bad for taking Jens away from his guests. ‘’I can come back later if-''

Jens shrugged. ''It’s just the boys. We were playing video games. Come.’’

Lucas toed off his shoes and let Jens pull him upstairs.

As they got closer to Jens’ bedroom Lucas’ stomach knotted, worried Jens’ friend will ask questions after the way he left last week at the party. He never gave them an explanation and he was hoping Jens hadn’t told them what happened to his mom. He might be okay to share this personal information with Jens and his own close friends like Kes, Isa and Ralph, but he didn’t want everyone to know.

‘’Now we know why he was taking so long to come back,’’ Aaron pointed out when he saw Lucas behind Jens.

Jens flipped him off and went to the empty spot on his bed, pulling Lucas onto his lap, taking advantage of having limited seating space in his cardboard boxes filled bedroom.

Robbe handed Jens back the controller, ready to get back to the game.

''How are you gonna play with Lucas sitting on you like that? You can hardly see,'' Aaron pointed out.

Jens smirked, feeling confident. ''Don't worry, I can still beat your ass.''

[transjoyblog]

The Many Astonishing Ways Abuse Can Affect Your Money

Photo by Darío Martínez-Batlle on Unsplash

People will use money, and your need of it, to manipulate you in various ways. Some are relatively harmless, and extremely common i.e. an otherwise neglectful parent buying their child lunch to get some time with them. However, some are more nefarious, and insidious. Here are a few common tactics people regularly use to control you financially:

Manipulation- This category is comprised of various types of manipulation including emotional appeal, constant desperation, and the use of younger siblings/dependent adults i.e. grandma against you.

Most everyone has been on the receiving end of an emotional appeal before. We use this to declare our love for each other, ask someone we have hurt for forgiveness, and so many other very positive interactions. But emotional appeal is also regularly used to try to influence a reluctant person to continue offering support with which they have become uncomfortable. A common use of emotional manipulation is for the dependent person to respond with an outburst of anger when support is threatened. They may genuinely feel that they have a right to be angry, and that may in fact be true, but that doesn't change the fact that the person providing support also has a right to their feelings, and ultimately, to their own time, energy, and money.

Another type of tactic that is very similar and often used in conjunction with emotional appeal, is for the person receiving support to be in a constant state of desperation. This person will often come to you at the end of the month to say, "Can I just borrow a couple hundred to get us through the month? I'll pay you pack the second I get paid." This is essentially asking for a payday loan from you, which we all know, is just a cycle of debt that actually benefits no one. This type of manipulation can be difficult to extract yourself from because there is probably a genuine need. However, it is ridiculous to expect anyone to loan you money on a frequent basis. If you cannot support your lifestyle on your own, reduce your lifestyle to the best of your ability.

If you have dependent family members, constant desperation becomes all that more effective. If grandma is on a fixed income, and Timmy is only 12 years old, they come with fixed expenses. Anyone knows this. And therefore, anyone should be able to plan for these expenses. If you are not living in the home, you are not responsible for grandma, or baby brother. I know this sounds harsh, and if the need is true, you can always offer other material support such as taking baby brother school clothes shopping, or asking only grandma what she might need from the store. But you do not need to provide money to people who may or may not be spending it in the way that they say they are.

Use of access to credit- Directly taking money out of an account they have access to, taking out a credit card in your name (or a joint one, if married) and using it indiscriminately or without permission.

My father was a big fan of this type of control. By the time my mother left him after 8 years of abuse, he had taken out something like 13 joint credit cards and run them all up to the limit. Not to mention all of the cards he took out in only his name or my mother's. He used my mother's maiden name and social security number to take out cards without her knowledge. He then chose to reveal the existence of these cards in moments when my mother was seriously considering leaving, claiming that if she left she would have nowhere to go because he had ruined her credit. This is obviously abusive behavior and should not be tolerated in any relationship, whether that is a relationship between adults, or a parent/child relationship. If you find yourself in a situation even close to this one, I highly recommend contacting the National Foundation for Credit Counseling (nfcc.org), as they may be able to provide concrete guidance on how to challenge behaviors like these in court.

Another form of manipulation could be pressuring you to take out a card and let someone else use it. This has actually happened to someone I know. Their parents put a lot of pressure on this person, basically the minute they turned 18, to take out a credit card in their name and let the parents use it, and pay it off. Or so they said. Ultimately, they were not able to make the payments on it, even the minimums, and destroyed this child's credit. The parents also convinced this child to take out payday loans in this child's name, and then just "loan" them the money. Please do not fall for this. This is manipulation, pure and simple. No reasonable person asks another to take out a loan for them, regardless of if you can afford it, or if they'll pay you back right away. Forget it. Any money loaned out is not a loan. You should be comfortable with the concept of never seeing that money back, and it should be an amount of money that you can afford to never see again. Regardless of how close you are, if not getting paid back would ruin your relationship with this person, you cannot afford to lend them money.

Monitoring- Keeping track of how you spend money, not allowing you a say in the family finances, or being cagey with their personal finances, while expecting you to be completely forthright with yours, usually perpetrated under the guise of "handling the finances", are all tactics that many people in long term relationships use to control their partner(s) or sometimes parents use to control their young adult children. This behavior can usually be spotted early on in the relationship.

1. Do they check up on you when they know you have other things to do?

2. Do they expect an unreasonable level of communication?

3. Do they ask to move in together pretty quickly? (This can be a tactic to more fully control your environment, or to begin the process of isolation, or dependence.)

4. Do they regularly ask for small sums of money, and always pay you back? (This can be a way to warm you up to the idea of giving them access to your accounts, or to loaning them large sums of money, which they will likely never pay back.)

5. Have they asked to share bills or accounts early on in the relationship, or before you have moved in together? (This could be a dependence or control tactic, because if they are on the account they are entitled to control and monitoring of the account, whether that is a cell phone bill, or a bank account.)

This is just a small selection of the types of questions that could come up as you negotiate the financial terms of your long term relationships. There are tons of questions that pertain to specific situations, people, and relationships. A great rule of thumb is to ask yourself whether you can communicate regularly, openly, and safely about your feelings with this person. If you do not have solid communication, trust, and safety with any person, they do not deserve access to or control of your financial life.

"Losing ambition" or other types of dependence- This can best be described as someone depending on your money while refusing to work when otherwise able - and this one comes with a huge caveat. Many people are truly dependent, and truly cannot work or find work for reasons beyond their control. But this needs to be communicated. Usually, the people who use dependence as a tactic to control you do not keep a regular conversation about finances going because that would reveal the extent of their use and abuse. My fiancee is pretty much entirely dependent on my income due to a chronic illness. I do not resent this because we have had tons and tons of conversations about our finances, and she has her own money and bank account. She contributes as best she can around the house, and constantly has ambitions of making her own money. She even buys me dinner sometimes. She is still driven and ambitious, it has just had to change in scope and degree from where she was before she was ill. That being said, refusing to work, find work, or otherwise contribute around the house can be a way to manipulate you into continuing to take care of someone. Keeping themselves dependent on you can make you second guess your desire to leave because "What would happen to them, they aren't working, I'm the only one paying the rent, where would they go?" This is a spiral that they want you to have because as long as they have nothing, you have to stay with them. The way to deal with this behavior is to do your best to sit with them and discuss their goals, what plans they have of achieving them, and how you and your money fit into that picture. Both parties should come to an agreement that feels ok for both parties. This will not feel good, do not expect it to. But this plan should offer both of you some level of psychological relief, and guidance on what the next steps could be for the dependent person. If someone is resistant to making substantive change in themselves and their lives, when they are otherwise completely capable of doing so, you do not need to feel responsible for their life, even if they do not feel responsible for it themselves. At this point you are forced to accept that this person is resistant to change right now, and will probably continue their pattern of behavior and manipulation regardless of anything you may or may not do. So, it would be in your best interest to distance yourself from the dependent person as much as possible. Ultimately, I encourage everyone to seek the professional help of a therapist, psychologist, or psychiatrist whenever possible. It always helps to have an objective lens through which to view a difficult situation such as manipulation or abuse.

Actionable Advice:

1. If you take nothing else from this article, always remember the 3 C's: Consent Communication Consideration. - Every partner in any relationship has a right to these three C's.

2. Protect yourself - we are raised to extend our trust, love, and vulnerability to the people who are closest to us, but this does not take into account the reality of toxic relationships and family members.

3. Educate yourself - Continue to advance your knowledge of personal finance and relationships. None of us are perfect. We all have gaps in our understanding, especially when it comes to interpersonal relationships, and getting along with others. Kindergarten can't teach us everything.

[pmak2002]

NOTICE: I’m not suicidal! I’m currently dealing with some sadness and bad feelings. I’m safe I’m ok do not be alarmed!

RANT! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

TW/CW: surgery, suicidal ideation, paranoia, trauma, emotional abuse, harm, etc.

It hurts knowing that as you get older you discover the truth about your family. Extended family and even your parents. You hope it’s not true but deep down you know it all is.

It’s funny how even though your parents don’t want to develop their own parents personalities they do anyway. Especially your dad who makes it harder for you to even want to live. He’s part of the reason your in therapy for anxiety, paranoia and OCD. He’s on medication too but he doesn’t seem to understand the severity of your issues cuz he can barely understand himself. (He’s gay too)

Mom has been struggling too. She’s better now thank Goodness. But still there’s that fear of her getting upset again. You fear the worst. Visiting your dads house is hard because he monitors your weight and blames you for the puppy’s mistakes because she’s yours. You try your best with her and it still doesn’t work.

He’s mad at you almost constantly he gets it from his bitterness towards his family your sure.

It’s funny how you get mistreated by family members for making a mistake. It’s funny because even though you try your hardest it’s never been enough.

It’s funny how one day when you get a job you’ll owe your parents every paycheck because of those mistakes.

You’ll help pay off your future service dog. (if she even makes it). hospital bills from a surgery 3 years ago, those mistakes you made with money, horse back riding lessons, special education services, regular school fees, therapy, medication, stuff for your dog. Your fine with that. You won’t be able to live fully independently anyway so It doesn’t bother you.

You know better they say.

You should have asked first they say

The dog is all yours they say

Horse back riding is expensive

You don’t understand money

Your selfish

You should be grateful they say

Things cost money they say

You don’t care about others things they say

Your dog is expensive they say

You should exercise they say

You need a job

Why can’t you get a job or learn to drive?

You need to lose weight it’s not good for your height

You aren’t doing enough

No don’t do that

Why the hell are you like this?

What’s wrong with you?

Why haven’t you learned from your mistakes?

It’s funny because even though your the miracle baby of triplets. He seems to forget your his miracle child and you could take that away because you have reached that point before.

It’s funny how he doesn’t seem grateful that your alive. It’s funny how mom has to fight for your needed services and how he’s there for support but again doesn’t do enough!

You have fears of him snapping and taking away your dog or harming you or your dog or both at once.

It’s irrational sure but that thought does seem like a possibility.

He seems to good a person to do that but it does seem very possible. Very possible

He should be in therapy too but he’s not.

He’s only on medication for anxiety and depression but it’s clearly not enough. Instead of talking to someone who’s qualified to help, he just takes it out on you.

The special needs, expensive, idiotic child. The one who makes the most mistakes. The one who’s more expensive. The one that was once so sick in the PICU/NICU. You weren’t sure if the child would even live.

You learn not to fight back, to just leave it be, your brother isn’t as mistreated as you because he’s better with money, actually has friends, is rarely home and plays sports. Of course he only understands your brother he’s a guy.

While you don’t have many friends who don’t even have the energy or time to hang out with you.

How no one is available, how all your friends are poor. How you have to be the one to facilitate everything with a friend or two.

But everyone is busy or sick or at work. So of course you’re almost always home. You are slowly trying to be more independent but that’s bad too.

He doesn’t seem to realize how much the words hurt. How you remember every evil word out of his mouth and then you turn around to tell you’re therapist and psychiatrist. They try to help but you can’t just have a conversation with him about it cuz for sure it’ll just make it worse and not realize his mistakes.

None of it matters to him

He doesn’t care if your struggling

He doesn’t notice

He’ll call you out on all mistakes even if was a accident or wasn’t your fault or wasn’t done intentionally.

He’s so damn bitter about his family it sucks

He worries about wether or not the job you want to get will pay you enough. Which is fine except You rather have your dream job then a shitty one like his.

You learn to not trust many people because no one has time for you.

You learn you can be bitter towards family that it doesn’t matter.

You learn to rely on almost no one because of your mistakes of begging for things you could do on your own with little assistance.

He wants you to be as normal as possible and go to college but you don’t want too.

After all those mistakes you still don’t learn from them so he gets more frustrated and you get punished.

Sure all families have issues but it hurts like hell when your family is the reason why you are who you are. The positives are there sure. But there’s definitely more negatives then positives.

The trauma will never leave

The pain will never cease

Beggars can’t be choosers

Choosers can’t be beggars

Watch your back

Family might the worst to trust

[omoi-no-hoka]

Hey! I saw your blog today and I love it very much!! I see you're an open person so, I also have a question: HOW does one survive studying japanese at uni?? I'm in my first year and only my second (online haha) semester and we started out with Minna no nihongo 1 but we're supposed to finish Minna 2 by the end of this semester, same with Basic Kanji book 1 in the first sem and now Basic Kanji Book 2, all while also learning mostly of Japan's history and others in this semester. Exams will kill me

Hello! I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog! I am open to a fault lol. Let me recount my meandering journey through uni, illustrating my feelings through gifs of Noel Fielding because he is my celebrity crush.

Uni is such a difficult time for so many people, trying to figure out who you are now and who you want to be later. It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized what I wanted to do. I started writing out my university experience and it got super long, so allow me to just summarize my “Lessons Learned” here and you can read the rest if you want to know all the dirty deets lol. I double-majored in Japanese and English, so I think that my experience can perhaps be useful to people who are majoring in things other than Japanese as well. 

Hard-Learned Lessons from Uni

Do not choose a course of study because it is “practical.” Choose it because it is something you love. Seriously. Nothing is more important than this point. Do not choose a major because “I’ll make a lot of money” or “My parents are telling me this is good for me.” 

If you are learning multiple languages at once, you must give your brain time to organize what you learned from one language lesson before moving on to the next. You can do this by waiting a couple hours between lessons, getting up and walking around, studying one language in different space from the other, etc. Otherwise, it all becomes a terrible mess in your head.

It’s okay not to know what you want your career to be. It’s okay not to have a specific plan. Life works out one way or the other.

I know how expensive uni can be. (It’s been six years since I graduated and I’m still making hefty loan payments.) But don’t feel like you have to take a full courseload every single semester and graduated asap, particularly if the classes are hard and/or you are working. I took the maximum credit hours allowed every semester on top of working RIDICULOUS hours and it nearly killed me at one point. I’m not kidding. 

It is not unusual to have an identity crisis and/or mental breakdown. Take care of yourself. Know when you are nearing breaking point. Seek out the help of professionals. Most universities have psychiatrists and therapists that will see you very cheaply. 

Surround yourself with good people and look out for each other. 

Do not rely on substances to ease your suffering because sometimes the remedy becomes the malady. Not saying you should avoid all parties or anything square like that, but just don’t be one of those people that parties every night and gets in over their head. 

Let me preface this by stating that I’m an American, and our universities are stupid because they force us to take a ton of “general education” courses that are irrelevant to our majors, and many students spend their first couple years taking only a couple courses related to their majors and minors, and try to focus on getting those stupid gen eds out of the way. 

Year 1: Oh Shit, This Is Harder Than I Thought It Would Be

I come from a town of less than 2600 people. Our high school prepared its students for the following career paths:

joining the military (boys only)

becoming a farmer (boys only)

welding, carpentry, or other practical jobs (boys only)

becoming a housewife (girls only)

So basically I coasted through high school never having to study anything because it was one great big joke, only I thought I was like super duper smart because I was in the top five of my graduating class of 48. LOLLLLLLLLL

I entered university as a German major, Japanese minor. (Japanese was not offered as a major at my uni). I had never studied German previously, but I studied Spanish and French in high school and I just had this feeling that German and Japanese were the languages for me. 

The first semester, I had Japanese 101 and German 101 back to back, in the EXACT SAME CLASSROOM. I can’t stress enough how much of a mindfuck it was to go from thinking about Japanese for 50 minutes, having a 10 minute break, and then trying to switch your brain to German. IN THE SAME ROOM. It actually gave me headaches to try and make that mental jump. Managed to pull through the year with A’s in both, but German was much more of a challenge to me than Japanese. Which was really unexpected. 

I also flunked several gen eds because I didn’t give a shit about them and skipped them and got placed on academic probation and was nearly kicked out of uni because of my poor grades

Basically, I was such a weeb that I had watched enough anime with subtitles and sung along to enough anime songs that I had absorbed about 90% of the first year’s worth of Japanese vocab and grammar through osmosis. I really did have the power of God and anime on my side.

Year 2: The Year of the Mid-Midlife Crisis and Mental Breakdown

There really is no gif that will encapsulate the level of turmoil I went through that year. I looked really hard for one, trust me.

It became apparent very quickly that I could not keep up with German. I ended up dropping it early in the first semester, which meant I had to choose a new major. Thinking of what would be practical to pair with a Japanese minor, I went for International Business for a semester, took Accounting, and realized that I HATE The Man, corporate bullshit, and also numbers as a concept.

All I knew at this point was that I liked Japanese but couldn’t make it a major. I also knew I didn’t want to transfer universities. So I kept taking gen eds, just barely passing them because to this day I cannot bring myself to put effort into something I do not care about, and also taking more classes related to my Japanese minor. It was the Japanese classes that saved my GPA and kept me from getting kicked out of uni.

At the same time, I took a creative writing course because that’s been a hobby of mine since elementary school, and I kinda thought about an English major, but then was like, “Eww I don’t wanna be forced to read books I don’t give a shit about. And also, what will I do with that degree?”

Also, at the same time, I was working full time, and often getting stuck working from 2 pm to 7 am (Yes, 15-hour shifts, because the overnight dude would call in sick last minute and I’d be begged to cover his shift), and then dragging myself to classes and drooling on the desks because I’d fall asleep.

Also also, I started to have possible hallucinations? To this day I don’t know what was going on, but either I was legitimately going crazy, or there was a demon following me around and being quite rude to me, making light fixtures fall and shatter inches from my head, throwing papers around my room, opening and closing doors, turning lights off and on, coming to me in dreams and doing some really, really traumatic things to me in them, and just standing in corners staring at me at all hours of the night. Had me so scared that towards the end of the school year I was waiting to sleep until sunrise, when it would go away. And no, I was not using any mind-altering substances of any sort. Not even going out and getting drunk. 

So, yeah. Year Two was a hard one that I can’t believe I pushed through. Probably the darkest year of my life, I’d say. What got me through it? An unhealthy amount of energy drinks, friends, and my love of Japanese. Also Aerosmith.

Do I still see that demon? No. He vanished when the school year ended and I moved out of the dorms. Do I believe in the supernatural? Yes, to an extent. Do I think that what I was seeing was actually a demon? I honestly don’t know. I have had actual supernatural experiences verified by multiple witnesses, and a few years before Year 2, several friends and myself had seen an entity similar to what was following me around. But this one in Year 2 only did things when I was alone. So it could have all been in my head, and I will never know. 

Since then, I have been diagnosed with general anxiety and also a form of insomnia that keeps me from sleeping through the night, and I know that my anxiety manifests itself in psychosomatic ways. In other words, my mind will take my anxiety and turn it into a physical symptom that feels real in every way, but is actually not occurring. So far it’s manifested as: sensitivity to sunlight, the symptoms of a stroke or heart attack, half of my face going numb, and headaches in my left eye. Once I realize that the symptom is just my anxiety, I can force myself to ignore and overcome it. But then my anxiety finds a new form to manifest, and the cycle repeats a few months later. It could be that my stress caused me to see this demon for a while.

Should I have consulted a psychiatrist and gotten help? YEP. If you find yourself struggling like that, seek help please. 💕

Year 3: Adrift But Afloat

I moved out of the dorms and into an apartment with my best friend, a Japanese girl I met in the dorms freshman year. I will call her Setsuko. Setsuko is basically the reason I graduated uni. She memorized my class schedules and took copies of exam dates, woke me up, forced me to go classes instead of skipping, forced me to go to the library and study with her, and cooked me dinner most days since she didn’t have to work like I did. I can’t express enough how much she did to improve my life outside of school and work, and how much that improved my mental health. She also acclimated me to lots of subtle things about Japanese culture just by living with her, and this helped me later when I moved to Japan. Thank you, Setsuko. 一生の恩人。

I was still doing those bullshit 15-hour overnight shifts way more than I should have, and also had the maximum courseload.

The Japanese classes got a lot more difficult in Year 3. But I loved them. They were the only classes I never skipped. I took more classes towards the minor like Buddhist Philosophy and Japanese History, which I really enjoyed. While polishing off more gen eds, I thought over what to do with my major. 

My family and friends all told me that I should become an English teacher. I had always been good at words and at explaining things. But I didn’t really like the idea of being a high school teacher. I became an English major, though, because I knew that I didn’t hate English. Took grammar classes and HOLY SHIT did I hit my stride.

I realized that I didn’t like English lit. I liked linguistics. So I focused heavily on all grammar and linguistics courses, taking the bare minimum of literature courses required for the major. My GPA improved substantially. 

Yet I still was consumed with this nagging fear. It was Year 3 and I still had no fucking idea what I wanted to do when I graduated.

Year 4: Clarity At The 11th Hour

Urged on by my “Don’t you dare get one of those stupid arts degrees that won’t get you a paycheck” parents, I decided that the most “practical” degree would not be “English,” but “English Education.” I began taking the English Ed classes with linguistics, grammar, and second language acquisition classes. The goal was to become a qualified English high school teacher who could also do ESL (since I had Spanish and Japanese under my belt more or less). 

At the same time, I entered into Independent Study for Japanese with two other students. We were tasked with reading Izu no Odoriko, a classic short story. Independent study was its own beast. It required a lot more concentration and work on my part, obviously. But because Japanese was my first and foremost passion, I centered my efforts on those courses, and then on the others.

The process of getting certified to be an English teacher was lengthy and expensive in my state. This meant my graduation would be further prolonged, and I was worried about money, because I was already about $50,000 in debt at the time, despite working those fucking overnight shifts all the time that were eating me alive.

Then, during the summer vacation when my 4th year ended, I got a scholarship and went to Japan to study abroad. Education majors had the option to study abroad in several countries, and as luck would have it, one of them was Japan, and it was Setsuko’s HOMETOWN! The study abroad program itself was the first month of summer vacation, and Setsuko said, “Okay, just come stay at my house for the rest of summer vacation!”

Never have I said “yes” quicker in my entire life.

On the train headed from Sapporo to the town where I would be actually staying during my studies, I looked at the lush rice paddies and mountains in the distance and my entire heart just hummed with this “This is where you’re meant to be.” I knew then and there that I would move to Japan upon graduation.

What would I do there? Well, teach English, obviously.

My three months in Japan effectively aligned my entire life. My path had materialized before me. It was a roughly hacked, hard-to-see path through thick underbrush, but I could see it nonetheless. 

Year 5: Let’s Hurry It Up, I’m Ready To Live

Come Year 5, all of my Japanese classmates that had been with me since freshman year were gone and I was alone. My professor taught me Classical Japanese through independent study, and it was the must grueling course I took my entire five years there. But I found it invaluable and am eternally grateful to him for teaching me, because you see Classical Japanese a lot more than you’d think you would in everyday life. Particularly in formal settings. 

I still wanted to get certified to teach English in American high schools, because while I knew I wanted to go to Japan for now, I didn’t know if I wanted to spend my entire life there and I wanted a solid job opportunity when I came back to the states at some point.

However, the more education courses I took, the more I saw that the American education system was just as full of red-tape and The Man’s bullshit as corporate America, something else I rebuke with every fiber of my being. I also realized I’d need to take a 6th year of university, and that just wasn’t financially feasible for me. So I switched to a plain old English major with a heavy focus on linguistics and second language acquisition, and continued classical Japanese. 

I took the remaining 3 gen eds online in the summer, graduated, popped up to Chicago to do a month-long intensive course to get the CELTA (Certificate in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages issued by Cambridge.) It’s the most widely accepted and revered certification for teaching English as a foreign language.

So in the span of five years, I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English with a focus in linguistics and SLA, and what is technically a major in Japanese Studies. 40 credit hours were required for a major, and I completed 42 credit hours tied to my minor, so while it isn’t listed on my diploma as a major, I did the coursework. I also got a CELTA Pass B, which only 20% of applicants achieve and never expires. The grand total for all of this was roughly $100,000 USD in loans.

Post-Graduation

The week I came back to my hometown from Chicago with my CELTA in hand, I packed my suitcases, threw a going-away party, and then flew to Sapporo, where I began my first job after uni, teaching English to children aged 0-18 at a private English conversation school. I did that for three years before changing careers and becoming a Japanese-English translator/interpreter for a global company. 

So how useful have my choices during university proven to be?

I’m sure I don’t have to explain that studying Japanese helps me tons with translating Japanese to English or living in Japan lol

Studying English grammar, linguistics, sociolinguistics, and second language acquisition has allowed me to recognize minute nuances that can make the difference between a successful and unsuccessful business negotiation when interpretation is necessary.

My background in education also means that I know how to present information clearly, concisely, and in a way that engages the audience. I am known as “The PowerPoint Pro” at work lol. 

I also have a keen eye for performance evaluation, behavior analysis, and improvement action plans. 

I offered English conversation lessons to coworkers for over a year, and now that is being done in other branches across the company! (Well, they were before COVID haha.) 

I DO NOT RECOMMEND WORKING THE HOURS I WORKED WHILE IN SCHOOL. My grades suffered and I wish I had worked less and focused more on classes. However, by working 15-hour shifts and doing full days of classes, I developed a very good tolerance for overtime, which comes in handy in the Japanese workplace. Just last month I had three 15 hour days in the same week. Sweet, sweet overtime pay. 

All of these facets have culminated in me earning a pretty nice promotion to 正社員 seishain back in February, which means I get nice benefits and basically my job is guaranteed until I die or the company goes under.

Should I decide to return to America someday, I will probably not go into the education field. Too much red tape. I will likely continue translation/interpretation for companies, because it isn’t too difficult and pays well. Though ideally I’d love to just make a living sharing cool information about Japanese and stuff, and maybe writing those stories that are bouncing around in my head when I should be working haha.

Do I think the debt is worth it?

Well, I don’t think I had any other option than to take out those loans. I didn’t have the means to learn the things I wanted to learn unless I went to university. 

Unless Japanese work visa requirements have changed, you are required to have a bachelor’s degree in order to obtain my sub-type of work-visa, so I needed a degree of some kind no matter what. 

Frankly, if I hadn’t gone to that university and met my best friend Setsuko, I don’t think I’d be where I am right now, living the life I am now. So just having met her is worth any price to me. 

Paying off all the loans is daunting, especially when yen is weak to the dollar. There were months I had to ask my parents for help, especially early on. But now I’ve got multiple loans paid off, my salary has increased, and the “omg i have money and no supervision so I can buy whatever I want” idiocy has mostly gone away. But I did get a super sweet pair of blindingly silver Converses a couple days ago that I definitely didn’t need

Do I have any regrets regarding my time at university?

I still regret dropping Old English for a stupid English Ed class. Seriously, how cool would that have been? But I still have the textbook, workbook, and I contacted the professor last week and she was kind enough to send me a syllabus. God bless her. So now I’m working on that bit by bit, which is fun.

I wish I hadn’t been such a cocky, naive idiot my first year. Thinking I could just “show up for tests” was the stupidest thing. It messed up my GPA, and my parents forbade me from retaking classes so I couldn’t go back and fix my mistakes. I think I graduated with a 3.4 overall GPA out of 4, but my English major GPA was 3.9 and my Japanese GPA was 4.0. So it’s pretty frustrating to have those gen eds and my dumbfuckery mar my transcript like that.

I really didn’t party at all. Most all of my friends were straight-laced Japanese exchange students, and I was also working ridiculous hours so I just didn’t really have the time. A part of me feels like I missed out on that part of the college experience.

Recently I’ve been putting more effort into improving my creative writing by reading a lot of books on the subject. Not a small part of me wishes that I had gone with a Creative Writing major instead of English major, because I still would have studied all the grammar and linguistics. Then again, I do believe that creative writing can be self-taught.

I wish I hadn’t worked as much as I did. There were a lot of times I couldn’t complete assignments or I missed lectures because I was just so drained. It wasn’t even good money.

Well...I did not intend for this post to become as long as it has. I’ve been cooped up in my apartment with nothing but two goldfish for company for over a month now and I think I’m a bit stir-crazy. Thank you to anyone and everyone who bothered to read all of this and become my therapist for a bit haha. Love you all. Stay safe and well. 💖

[canttelliotte-blog]

Incredibly long, overly detailed post I spent too much time on.

Tl:dr AITA for telling someone they were coming off as an ungrateful, privileged asshole who didn't seem to recognize or truly appreciate what they have? I blew up after a series of encounters, they seemed oblivious to their lifestyle and support and how truly different life could have turned out without it. I called them out after weeks of trying to be empathetic but couldn't take how helpless they were acting when I would kill for the kind the support they were complaining about and taking for granted.  

I should use a throwaway because I know this person will probably see this but I don't have the energy. I'll try to keep this short (actually super long sorry) I feel like I already know I was sort of harsh and out of line. This whole thing has just been sticking with me and I feel really messed up about it.  

Alright, so context, back story. I had a breakdown in February and tried to kill myself. By some miracle, I got a bed at one of the best mental hospitals on this side of the east coast. After a long history of chronic mental illness, being on disability for years with medicare, getting an opportunity like this was amazing. I had been on waiting lists for months before my attempt, but fate, acuity, and availability all lined up. A true miracle. Unless you have a family with money or amazing health insurance, getting a bed is just extremely difficult at this particular facility.  

The reason being, they provide real treatment. Comprehensive, attentive, life-saving treatment. They actually provide real care with empathy, actual therapy, psychiatry, and groups, with educated staff, real food to eat, world-renowned providers, and treatment teams that listen and work with you to come up with effective long-term solutions/aftercare plans that set you up for long term success.  

Out of pocket, this place is unfathomably expensive. The more exclusive programs on-campus are for the ultra-elite/ ultra-wealthy, taking celebrities like Selena Gomez. The institution itself is known for its education and research. It is not funded by the state like almost everywhere else. Most state-run facilities are atrocious. a disgusting holding cell, where you're stripped of your clothes, dignity, and rights, fed prison food, overmedicated, physically and chemically restrained, only to be thrown back on the street in 3-5 days with no aftercare, med refills, or plan. Been there, done that, many times, not the point. The point was, I got some really helpful expensive ass treatment by the luck of the draw.  

While I was there, I met someone lovely. We instantly connected and expressed interest in one another. They seemed really cool, we talked at length about income inequality and how unfair it was that this kind of treatment wasn't the norm or easily accessible and how unfair that was. They seemed passionate and bright and we got along great. They were set to discharge only a few days after I got there, so we exchanged info before they left. We talked a bunch while I was still there (my discharge was a couple of weeks later) and decided to go on a few dates after I got out.  

A few days after I got out, I unintendedly overdosed, confused about my meds, and was incoherent by the time I got to the ER. I was restrained and chemically sedated. I was confused and fought so was deemed severely acute, and got sent to a state-run facility similar to what I described above. It was all very traumatic and I shut down once I got home. I was lucky I made it out semi-okay, that they let me out at all.  

I wasn't replying to anyone's messages but the person I had met kept reaching out wanting to hear from me and make sure I was okay. I was embarrassed but it was really sweet and soon we starting talking a lot again and really connecting.  

As I got to know them, I definitely thought they were very cool, we seemed to have a lot in common, they made me laugh and we got along really well. I was really digging them and saw us potentially becoming a thing.  After talking for some time, we decided to anxiously have our first date. It went okay but something was off.  

I didn't really pick up on it at first but the more we talked, the more privileged they offhandedly revealed they were. I know it's judge-y and lame, but that kind of put me off. I've been poor my whole life and struggled hard for everything, it's a whole different world living in poverty, so it made me a bit uncomfortable.  I still live in poverty, on disability, with food stamps, and can barely hold it together enough to have a part-time job, but I have no choice. It's rough. I've been homeless, lived in institutions, went through foster care, and have no familial support. I have one of the most serious debilitating mental illnesses. It's been very very hard.  

I am biased but I haven't met anyone well off who gets it. Some people don't realize how hard things can be when you've really had nothing, and had to work hard for everything. Even simple things are taken for granted, not understood, or there are miscommunications or assumptions made due to the lack of understanding. That's just my personal experience, it's hard trying to explain things and it's invalidating sometimes, it can be hard to relate or connect due to the lack of understanding.  

Honestly, though, it took me by surprise. We had both talked passionately about the struggles of being on disability, the importance of income inequality, how unfair the system is set up, the barriers against the poor receiving adequate mental health treatment. They explained how they advocated for social justice and regularly went to protests. I felt dumb because I did meet them at higher-end facility, but I assumed they ended up there by dumb luck as I did with how they presented and initially came across.  

They made it seem like we were in the same boat, poor af, chronically mentally ill, and 4 ever struggling. It was just a surprise because that was very much was not the case.  

They moved up here from Florida, (where admittedly their life was much harder and different), but since moving, they were being supported by their aunt and uncle, who were very, very well off. They had a very expensive private practice psychiatrist, multiple treatment providers, and an apartment in a very well-off area, that their aunt owned, so they paid no rent.  Their car/insurance/phone everything was paid for.  

They seemed to have money to burn, dancing around being well taken care of and not really having to worry. They were on disability though receiving payments and food stamps in addition, not reporting the assistance from their family. When I lightly inquired, they said their grandmother mostly controlled their finances and they didn't deal with bills etc. They spent freely, getting take out almost every night, etc. enjoying all the pleasure of life without a second thought.  

I was uncomfortable with this like I said, but they did seem cool and understanding, we did get along and I wanted to give them a chance. I put my biased experience aside and tried to give it a go.  

First example that really blew me away was their dog. They had several animals, including a cat and two dogs. Even for someone working, three animals is a huge expense. I only have one cat and while she's my world, it gets hard sometimes. The vet is expensive, litter, food, treats, it adds up. And she's only one animal!!! I provide for her and take care of her, but a $350 vet bill still packs a punch. Of course, I pay it, she's my baby, but it might mean only eating sandwiches for a few weeks. I love her, so I sacrifice, she is worth it in every way, but animals are expensive and a lot of work/responsibility.  

When this person and I first started seriously talking, they mentioned the dog they were closest to was very sick with a rare condition. I don't know the full details, but I guess it took a while for the vet to figure out what was wrong, he was on a lot of medications, needed loads of tests and scans. There were weeks of extensive treatments/ blood transfusions, all in a long, painful, and strenuous attempt to save him. They tried for a long time in the hopes he would get better.  

He, unfortunately, passed away a few weeks after we started talking. It was devastating to them and I tried my best to be supportive and help them grieve. They were understandably at a huge loss. Their mental health tanked. Their dog meant the world to them, I understand that completely. Pets are family.    

A few weeks after he passed. They were talking a little about the course of treatment and how hard it had been and what a long, painful road it was. They kind of casually remarked that his treatment cost over $20,000.  

I honestly thought I had misheard. I had to ask twice because I thought they meant $2,000. No. $20,000. $20,000.Holy shit.    

I just...$20,000 is what I make in a year. A year. Dogs are family, I totally, totally get that. People will do anything to save their loved ones. A pet is like an uninsured child, even with pet insurance, it can be expensive. I get that. If you have that kind of money, you pay it, without a thought, no problem.  

I just... wow. I still couldn't even wrap my mind around it. My cat is my world but it breaks my heart to say, if anything happened to her like that, it would kill me, but I would be forced to put her down. I just couldn't believe, $20,000. And they said it like, no big deal, of course, like anyone would/could afford that, it was obvious, a no-brainer. I just...wow.  

Next, kicker. I  came over to hang out one night and watch movies. I had never been to their apartment before. They claimed it had been super messy and they made a big deal about how they had cleaned for me. Sweet, but unnecessary, I get mental illness is tough. It was two bedrooms, all to themselves, decent space and light, but definitely scattered and cluttered. They had a huge king-sized bed, a bidet in the bathroom, and a super nice living room set up. Big comfy couch, loads of nice blankets, and honestly the biggest tv I had ever seen. They joking bragged about having all the streaming options. No kidding. Hulu, Disney plus, Netflix, Amazon, HBO, Paramount, and at least half a dozen more I hadn't even heard of. It just seemed crazy and excessive paying for that many streaming services every month.  But to each their own I guess.

We were both huge fans of anime, and they sort of decided to venture to studio ghibli. They asked if I had seen a particular favorite of theirs. I hadn't. They searched and it was only available to rent. $17. I nearly had a heart attack. I was like no way, we could definitely find it streaming for free somewhere if we look, or watch something else, shortage of options. They were like no it's no biggie that's what I want to watch and clicked rent. Like no problem *sweats intensely* Anytime I spend money, I have a heart attack and second guess it, it takes me like 10 minutes to click buy and my heart always drops when I do. I overthink, whether I really need/deserve it/whether there's a cheaper option, or if it's truly necessary. I know that's a poverty thing. It's just like we could have easily found it somewhere for free with a little effort!  

We go to order food, we both have celiac so finding takeout is a chore. They knew the area better so I was trusting them. They were very adamant about ordering expensive sushi. It was $36 for just one of the things they wanted. Not including delivery or tips or fees or anything else, which included appetizers and drinks, the whole nine. I wasn't feeling sushi. They were like fine, we'll order from two separate places then. Double the delivery fee, not something I ever do, it would be cheaper finding a place together, I could get something small and affordable but they wouldn't budge. I didn't really have money to order a big thing on my own, I wanted something small, but I felt pressured. I figured anything I got would be cheaper than having to split a big sushi order I didn't want. I was like okay fine.  

They kind of seemed annoyed that I didn't just give in and get sushi. They were a little short with me, didn't give me many options of other places, and were weirdly controlling, not letting me look at their phone to find something. I kind of gave up and said like just a burger is fine. I figured it would be cheap and filling, probably $20 max. I didn't take into consideration that they live in an extremely expensive area. It ended up being almost $30, plus tip. For a burger. I almost wanted to cry. I would have picked somewhere else cheaper given the option. They didn't even tell me the price until after they ordered it. I was like oh how much like $15 and they were so casual like oh no, $30 with tip. When it arrived, it was cold and disgusting, really inedible. I picked at the fries, which gave me a stomach ache as they were not gluten-free friendly and had been cross-contaminated in the fryer. I assumed they picked a place that they knew was safe.  

When I wasn't eating, they asked if it was bad. I said yeah and they were like oh well just order something else. Like no, I can't afford anything else, it doesn't work like that. I was like no it's fine I'm not really that hungry. I wanted to say, I trusted you, and you kinda fucked me. I guess they picked that place because there was a gluten-free brownie sundae (prepackaged and not cross-contaminated) on the menu that they really wanted. Obviously more important.  

My stomach ached all night. They ate their food happily. No big deal to them, $30 wasted on food I didn't really want, that I couldn't end up eating and got me sick. If it were them, they would have just ordered something else. No big deal to them. It was more important they got their brownie sundae and expensive sushi than making sure I was able to get something edible. Didn't matter that was half my grocery money for the week. Bologna sandwiches it'll have to be then. Awesome.  

We spent the night talking, I didn't let on to how sick I was or that I was upset about not being able to choose food. They picked all the movies. I wanted to go home, but it just got later and later, one more movie I just *needed* to see. I asked them several times as the clock was ticking if it was getting too late to drive me home. No, no they were fine. Let's just watch another one. Then casually, they went to their room and brought out their night meds, threw 'em back, and settled into the couch. I started to panic. I asked again, you're taking me home, right? I guess they decided they weren't. I was miles away from home, no public transit running or close by. They were like oh I'm so tired, it got so late. Just order a car. I pulled up uber, $25. That would definitely overdraft my account.  

Thankfully, after they saw me sweating and looking panicked, they were like, oh, I feel so bad, I'll order the uber for you. (If they hadn’t, I would have had to explain like, getting home on my own wasn't the plan nor was staying the night. If they thought I would be cool with just staying, they should have said something, if they wanted me to stay, it should have been a discussion, not a surprise.)  

I just felt really disrespected. I was simultaneously hungry and sick from dinner, broke and unprepared to stay over with no prior discussion. I didn't have meds, my cat didn't have food out, I was blindsided and essentially stranded/put in an awkward position. They didn't consider that it might be stressful or beyond my limitations to get home. Being able to just roll with punches isn't financially feasible for everyone. It just felt like they were self-centered and inconsiderate. The whole night was what they wanted, what they wanted to eat, where they wanted to order from, what they wanted to watch, changing plans to what was convenient for them without any regard toward how it might impact me. Just inconsiderate and self-centered behavior.  

We did keep talking though, I just sort of chalked it up to miscommunication and sort of beat myself up for not speaking up. It was weird though, kept just casually mentioning shit that was so privileged and complaining about shit that made them sound so ungrateful. I don't think they realized how it came across, just completely oblivious to their access to resources and not appreciating their position or supports.  

They started talking about starting ketamine treatments to combat their ongoing depression. They had received them in the past and went on about how life-changing and helpful it was, and that everyone should try it. Now, being on disability (and even with most insurances) the treatments are not covered. The clinics that administer them are all out of pocket, bougie as fuck, and extremely expensive.  

They talked about having several rounds in the past like it was nothing. It's easily $250-400 a pop and they were going 1-2x a week for a long time. They kept talking about all their options like what a painstaking burden. Should they start with lozenges and work up to IV clinic or ask for patches, and start that way. They wanted to work up to twice a week again but their family was giving pushback. They wanted me to agree with them, saying it was so unfair and lame and unreasonable/closeminded of their family for not immediately agreeing. The same family that would be footing the bill.  No, not unfair or unreasonable at all. You sound privileged as fuck.  

I was super bothered they were endlessly going on about it and complaining about pushback and asking me to agree with them. My treatment-resistant depression hasn't responded to anything, I've been on every waiting list for MDMA-assisted treatment whenever they pop up but never been selected due to demand and availability. Even ECT is too expensive and not covered. I'd kill for an opportunity like that! And it wasn't even like their family was saying no, they were discussing it in family therapy and seriously considering it.  

They talked about it so nonchalantly and kept going on and on about how amazing it was. Like great, tell me all about something else I'll never be able to afford. I'm sure Paris is great, and backpacking across Europe is awesome, like please do tell me more.  

I finally mentioned like okay that sounds great, will never able to afford it, glad it's so helpful They told me that I could just buy it off the street. That's what they used to do occasionally. It's only a couple hundred dollars and you get way more. Like oh okay. Let me just not pay a third of my rent in the hopes that this jam band kids ketamine isn't fentanyl or some shit and maybe have a shot at not wanting to kill myself for a week, you know on the off chance it works. Sounds great, super safe, much more affordable. And like as ridiculous as it was to offer that as an alternative, that still wouldn't be something I could afford! They just came off so clueless and privileged and oblivious.

What really got me was how they eventually talked about their family. They did weekly family therapy with their aunt and uncle and occasionally their dad since moving up here. They stayed with their aunt and uncle (lived down the street) more often than not so they weren't alone. This was encouraged/appreciated/welcomed. They did activities together regularly to help with depression and loneliness/ managing symptoms. They had their grandma and brother, whom they saw often and cherished greatly. They portrayed the relationships as really solid and important. I thought wow, truly wholesome and wonderful.  They seemed so loved, close, connected, cared for, and supported. Across the board, they had support.  

But then tables would turn. They complained often their family was too close, too conservative, and not understanding. They didn't want them so involved in their life, their treatment, decision-making, and recovery process. They resented the support, complained they weren't a kid and were capable/in sound mind to make decisions/have control of their life. I tried to listen and be understanding but I didn't get it. They came off almost like a spoiled, ungrateful teenager.  

You're getting help, love, and support all around, everyone wants to support you and see you do well and will give whatever that takes. Like legitimately whatever ?!?  You don't have to work, pay for anything, and it is made sure you don't have to struggle for anything. Anything you need, you've got.  

I get the concept that having family so close/involved could be crippling or invasive or just downright unproductive. But it was such a slap in the face they would complain to me of all people about having that kind of support.  

Family/support is such a foreign concept to me personally. Like I said, I grew up in foster care. I've never had family involved, healthy relationships, or any sort of support like that. The concept of calling your aunt when you're sad and she offers kind words, support, and tells you to come over to do something fun? Like, can't relate. I could only take so much of them complaining about being taken care of.  

Living with extreme mental illness, not being able to work for periods of time, living solely on disability paychecks and food stamps is damn is impossible to survive, especially where we live. Without the help they were being given, they wouldn't be able to survive. The cost of living is out of control, you can't even rent a room with a single disability payment. I know, I'm doing it. It takes everything for me to keep a part-time job, barely making enough to make ends meet. But if I don't. I'm homeless again. No matter what, no matter how bad symptoms get. And I have one of the hardest, most debilitating mental illnesses. I don't have any other choice.  

Their aunt would pay for them to go to school or learn a trade or anything they wanted. They have a world-renowned private practice doctor that prescribes them literally anything they could want or need to help and they have a great bond/ working relationship. I have a psych who can barely remember my name and sees me for 5-15 minutes maybe once or twice a month. I was asking for medications recently to get through a hard time, nothing serious, but my state-assigned psych does not prescribe benzos. Period. Neither does my PCP. It's state rehab or psych facility for me or bust. Another thing they take for granted. They almost bragged to me about immediately getting two heavy-duty benzos and another maintenance medication,  just by saying their panic attacks were slighting increasing. Meanwhile. I was at risk for DT's after relapsing and begging for basic Librium to maybe not die and was denied.  

The real reality of being on disability is the bare minimum or bad treatment. My psychologist is thankfully amazing but it took 10 years and hitting absolute rock bottom and being homeless to find her. She's a diamond in the rough but only works with the sickest of the sick. I would be in a state institution right now if it weren't for her and I avoided it by the skin of my teeth.  

So here's where I'm probably the asshole. After weeks, I broke. We were texting as usual and they started to sort of mope and complain. They were venting about having a hard time again and how symptoms were bad and there was just nothing they could do and it was so hard. They started going on about how helpless they were and how there was no opportunity to get better and everything was just super hard and impossible for them and how rough they had it. Their family was checking in on them too much and they were annoyed at them for being concerned and that they had no options and no chance and everything was just so hard and impossible.  

I understand, that's depression. I'm pretty empathetic and understanding and have been up to this point but it just felt like the rich person complaining to the homeless guy sleeping on the street, how awful it was they forgot their umbrella that day, and how unfortunate it was to be getting wet. I just wanted to scream. If you're anxious take your benzos, take your other meds! Call your aunt. Text your on call therapist. Call your fancy psych who answers night and day. Utilize any of the resources you have and all the support you are given!    

I was just tired of it. Things in my life have been super difficult, especially lately, and I have to figure it out alone. The voices were getting loud again which lead to a bad relapse that went off the rails, which I had to pull out of completely unassisted. I am in between jobs, my housing isn't stable, my bank accounts are low, my mental health is chronic and very severe, my treatment team was threatening to section me if I didn't reel it in. Things were bad. But I deal with it, alone.    

I know it was wrong of me, but I couldn't take it. They have everything to help themselves!!! They could go to a fancy hospital, they could ask all their supports for help! They would receive the best care. All the medicines, the best treatment. Anything.  

I basically kind of spelled it out for them. You have privilege, you have support, you have money, resources, a great treatment team, family, everything... please for the love of God, USE IT! You wouldn't have to worry about losing your job going into treatment, you wouldn't lose your housing. You wouldn't have to worry about falling behind on bills. You'd be fine.  

How can you not see or appreciate all you have and or see how oblivious and privileged you come across and how hurtful that is? You're complaining to the wrong person.

I went on a bit too long. I was definitely coming from a place of hurt, mental illness, and jealousy. I wasn't trying to make them feel bad, I just wanted them to understand. That kind of support would make all the difference for so many that are struggling. They are sitting with gallons of water around them, complaining to be inconsolably parched and that don't know what to do, all while sort of offhandedly bragging about how much water they have and how they can easily get more. I've been carefully conserving a 16 oz Poland spring bottle, rationing for weeks not knowing if/when I will be able to refill. They aren't alone, expected to make it on just disability. They weren't recognizing their position, how they were coming across, how hurtful that was. I didn't get anyone to catch me, love me, support me. This is the real reality of living with extreme mental illness on disability looks like without that opportunity or support. This is hard fucking work. We are not the same. You got lucky. Now do something with it.

They ended up calling me a dick, saying I didn't understand, that I was being cruel and mean for no reason. We haven't talked since. I do feel bad, I just couldn't take it anymore.  

So if you made it this far, lay it on me, AITA?      

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for grannyweatherwaxshat

To my gift recipient: I hope that this is what you were looking for. I went along with the "Hurt/Comfort with a Happy Ending, Healing, Soulmate, and Mental Illness" suggestions all in one. I wasn't intending for this gift to get so long, but here I am with yet another multi-chapter hahaha. I hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

*****

The Springs of Life

"Welcome to the Springs of Life, a healing center for the soul. Please feel free to take a pamphlet on our activity offerings, and may your healing be swift and kind."

A pale blue pamphlet with a printed cloud motif was set into Wei Ying's hands. It felt glossy under his fingertips. It crinkled slightly under the pressure of his thumb and forefinger. Just as it began to crinkle, he had the sudden urge to smooth it out again. He pulled his hand slowly across the pamphlet, giving his best attempt at pulling it flat again. No matter how hard he tried, however, it wouldn't return to its original state.

He pursed his lips, choosing instead to pull his focus from his hands to the waiting room he stood in.

The whiteness of the room was probably intended to be neutral and soothing, but to Wei Ying it was a blindingly bright reminder of everything that was wrong with him. The soft blues of the furniture did little to offset it. There was soft music playing in the background, the kind that they typically played at spas to relax the customers. But Wei Ying wasn't a customer, he was a patient; and this wasn't a spa, it was an inpatient facility.

There were others in the lobby, but they blurred together without recognition. Families. Loved ones. People there to support the other patients' journeys to healing. It was uncomfortable. Wei Ying's lungs suddenly felt a bit too heavy. He swallowed audibly, turning back to face his sister who had been checking him in at the front desk all the while. "I... I don't really need to be here. It's for broken souls. Mine's fine. I'm fine. Everything is good. All I need is my job, my life, my family... I don't need... whatever this is."

Wei Ying's hand slightly shook. He hid it behind his back, desperately hoping that no one saw.

Jiang Cheng turned from where he was filling out paperwork to roll his eyes. "It's good for you, idiot. Just... go heal or whatever. Your life will be there when you come back."

"He's right. You need to go and heal yourself from the inside out. Then you can come back and be the happy whole A-Ying you used to be." Jiang Yanli said softly, worry evident in her kind gaze.

Guilt bubbled in Wei Ying's gut. He was fine. Really. He didn't need the white rooms and soothing music and soft blue furniture. His soul would be fine. Sure, thing's had gotten bad. But he always stepped up before, who was to say he wouldn't do so now? Still... he didn't want to worry his sister any more than he already was. He'd made a mistake. He should have powered through it all instead of moping in his apartment without leaving for three weeks straight. He shouldn't have let his family know how bad he was getting. He could handle it. Really. Most days, at least...

"Just take the help." Jin Zixuan said, scrunching up his nose. "This is the best soul-healing center in the country. Think of it as a paid-for vacation and come back after you're good and healed."

A mandatory vacation. Thought Wei Ying. He shot a look at his brother-in-law, but nodded in agreement all the same.

It's not like he wanted this. It's not like he wanted any of this to happen, for anything to lead to him standing where he was at that moment. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and clenching his jaw just to feel the discomfort of it. It distracted him from the discomfort in his brain.

Jiang Yanli hugged Wei Ying. "Take good care of yourself in here. I'll miss you lots and lots the whole time. And then I'll cook you a big dinner when you get out. Okay?"

It wasn't okay. He didn't need to be there. He didn't want to be there. He was going to be left alone with a bunch of broken souls and have to force himself through class after class that attempted to soothe him, but only made him all the more unsettled. There was no fixing Wei Ying. Whatever he was, it was there to stay. Taking him into the facility was like signing away the last of his freedom. He truly doubted that he'd ever leave again.

"Okay." He found himself agreeing robotically. Funny, the things he'd agree to when his sister asked.

What could he do? They were the ones that broke down his door, that pulled him out of the burrito of covers on his bed, that forced him to shower for the first time in weeks. They were the ones that force-fed him, clothed him, led him to the car and away from everything Wei Ying had ever known. What could he do if his family no longer wanted to put up with him, with his shortcomings, and would prefer to send him off to some old facility to become someone else's problem?

A man in white scrubs opened the door from the lobby to the inpatient facility with a soft scrape across the floor and a soft thud as it his the door-stop. The soft sounds reverberated across the forefront of Wei Ying's mind. Everything else became white noise. Whatever his family was saying, whatever music was playing, whatever noise the other families seemed to be making, all of it became a low rumble. He heard the squeak of the door hinges, the swallow of his own throat, the tapping of someone's fingernails upon the front desk counter.

The man in white scrubs called out Wei Ying's name. He barely recognized the sound.

They made their goodbyes. Jiang Yanli cried some more and held him close. Jiang Cheng hugged him briefly. Jin Zixuan offered him a supportive nod of the head. And then Wei Ying was escorted through the big white doors that led to the inpatient part of the facility. And his family? They were gone.

This is a good thing. Wei Ying repeatedly told himself no matter how much he disbelieved it. He repeated the phrase over and over again like a mantra as he followed the man in white scrubs down the hallway. By the time he reached the end, he still didn't believe it.

Intake was a bit invasive. While they didn't do anything as untoward as a cavity search, they drew blood and took vitals and asked incredibly personal questions. They all seemed to blur together into a single block of mushed up dialogue in his memory, difficult to pick anything individual out. The female nurse in white scrubs scribbled notes on a clipboard as she asked her typical questions. They came out of her automatically, in a rote sort of way that only came from extended repeated use.

"Do you have any known triggers that could have caused the soul break?" She asked.

"No." Wei Ying responded automatically. There was nothing. Nothing was bad. Nothing was wrong. It was just the same old situations Wei Ying always found himself in. It was Wei Ying himself that was wrong.

"Any mental illnesses?" She checked another box in the sheet.

"How is that relevant?" He asked a bit more defensively than intended.

"Mental illness, when run unchecked, can cause distress to the soul." She explained. "Sometimes, if it gets bad enough, it can lead to a soul break. It is very common, especially in your age demographic."

"..."

Wei Ying didn't want to say it. Saying it made it real. Saying it was like admitting to weakness, like he needed all of this crazy expensive soul help. Which he didn't. He was fine. There was nothing off about him that wasn't off already. Nothing new happened. It was just Wei Ying. It was who he was as a person. There was nothing a bit of soul classes was going to do to change that.

"We can request medical records from the psychiatrist your guardians listed on your intake forms, but it would be easier for everyone involved if you just tell us outright. Not knowing how your brain chemistry will react to any sort of treatment can hinder your progress and leave you staying with us longer than necessary." The nurse said.

"..." Wei Ying released a heavy sigh, not even bothering to plaster on his typical sunny smile. These people evidently wouldn't be fooled, and he hardly had the energy for it anyhow. "The B word is scary, I know I know. But I'm really fine. I've got it under control. It's not... I'm fine. I'm good."

"The B word?" The nurse raised an eyebrow.

"... Bipolar disorder. Type II." He muttered under his breath.

The intake nurse nodded. "Any co-morbidities?"

Wei Ying pursed his lips. "Anxiety. ADHD. Insomnia. You know, the whole buy one mental illness get three free deal. But really. It's fine. I've been dealing with this for years. It's nothing I can't handle."

"It's not about how much you can handle. You are very strong for getting this far, and very brave for making the steps to see us today. It is not easy to accept that a soul has been broken, but getting to the point of admitting the problem and seeking treatment is already the first step to recovery."

Wei Ying made a face, but said nothing. The nurse continued.

"Do you have a soulmate?"

"No."

Ah, soulmates. Those uncommon-but-not-unheard-of special other halves that match your own very soul. It was one of those things that everyone knew someone who knew someone that had one, but most people never had direct exposure to one. Which honestly, was probably for the best. While a soul break would not necessarily cause damage to the other half of your soulmate pair, if both souls broke at the same time it could cause what was known as a "Complete Soul Split." It was the most dangerous form of soul-breaking. Not only could it cause permanent damage to the souls themselves when left unchecked, like the lesser individual or "partial" soul breaks, it could also cause damage to the delicate soul bond between the pair of soulmates. In worst cases, bond-severing and even death.

But that wasn't a concern for Wei Ying. He didn't have a soulmate, for one. And even if he somehow had one, which he didn't, he'd have to be unlucky enough to have broken his soul at the same time as Wei Ying. Which was... incredibly statistically unlikely. Soul breaks happened, but even they weren't that common of occurrences. The odds would have to have completely been stacked against him, and even he wasn't that unlucky.

Besides, he didn't have to worry. He was fine. Really.

"Okay then, everything seems to be in order. The door behind me leads to the common area. Feel free to get to know the other guests at your own comfort level. We will be serving dinner at six."

Wei Ying rose and left the nurse behind, but he chose not to interact with the other "guests." There were several people crowded around a table playing cards, another group quietly taking markers to coloring sheets, and a third circled around a quiet subtitled television. Everything in the room was the same color schemes as all the rooms before it, white in walls and pale blue in furniture. It did little to settle Wei Ying's unease. He watched a clock on the wall, eying the minute hand as it moved ever-so-slightly with each passing second. He found the rhythm oddly calming, as if it were the one thing left of the outside world that could keep him from drifting away into the cloud-like rooms of the inpatient facility.

Despite typically being an outgoing person, Wei Ying couldn't find it in himself to put on his happy facade. He wished to be alone, to hide away from the world as he once did in his apartment. He couldn't do that yet, however. He hadn't received his room assignment yet.

He found himself drawn to the empty pale-blue living chairs in the back corner of the room. It was slightly darker there, as if the light couldn't fully reach it. Wei Ying immediately liked that about it. There was a man sitting in one of the chairs, reading a novel in utter silence. He liked that too. The man sitting in there was calm, quiet, peaceful. He simply sat in a perfect upright position and turned the pages of his book every-so-often. Wei Ying found his place at the man's side, leaving a chair's space between them out of courtesy.

Wei Ying may have been known to be bold and tactile, but he found that that part in him had diminished along with his soul. He pulled his knees in to his chest, closing his eyes and resting his head upon his knees. Time passed between them. Wei Ying found that he felt comfort in the man's presence. The man was grounding, a constant that neither moved nor spoke, a hand to grip Wei Ying before he floated away.

They remained like that as time continued to move around them, stuck in their own bubbles of comfort. Eventually, the intake nurse in white scrubs found Wei Ying and pulled him back into her office. As he stood to leave, however, the man with the book looked up at him. They caught each other's gaze for a moment, something slight sparking in the abyss of their eyes. He was beautiful, that comforting man. His clothing matched the rest of the facility in color palette, but was distinctly stylish. A soft flowing somewhat-sheer blouse in light blue sat over a white tank and white jeans. Had they been permitted to wear shoes, Wei Ying imagined that he would probably have chosen white for them as well. His look was completed with a pale blue ribbon tying up the top half his shoulder-length black hair.

A tap on his shoulder pulled Wei Ying's gaze from the man in blue. He offered the man a soft smile that didn't reach his eyes. The man returned the favor with an expressionless nod of his head. He followed the nurse back into her office, taking a seat as he stared at yet more white walls.

Cleaning this place must have been a bitch.

"Mr. Wei," The nurse interrupted his straying thoughts. "The results of your physical examination indicated something irregular. We ran the blood test as a precaution to rule out anything unusual, but it unfortunately confirmed what we initially suspected. We are happy to inform you that you do, in fact, have a soulmate. Regrettably, you and your soulmate have both experienced circumstances dire enough to cause a Complete Soul Split."

Wei Ying blinked. What? A soulmate? Him? How could he, out of all of the people in the entire world, get the unluckiest draw? Wasn't it enough that his soul was already broken? Did life truly have to gift him a soulmate only to have them ripped from him before they could even meet?

Well, what did he expect, really? This was Wei Ying. Literal human disaster. False genius. Faker of ingenuity. Speaker of tall tales. Of course he couldn’t have simply just not had a soulmate. Of course life had to tear him down just that much further.

Wei Ying suddenly felt very small and very empty. Very small and empty indeed.

"Your treatment period will need to be lengthened to accommodate your new diagnosis, but not to worry. You won't be alone. We have another guest that will be attending the specialized classes for Complete Soul Splits along with you. Ideally, you would go through the classes along with your soulmate so that you can heal together to avoid re-splitting. Is there anyone you can think of, anyone at all that could potentially be your soulmate? Anyone that you felt even a slight pull towards even if you met them in passing? Having the pair of you heal together can speed up the process and help mitigate some of the potentially permanent effects."

Wei Ying shook his head. There was no one. He was as alone as always. Just Wei Ying stuck in a head full of swirling, racing, stampeding thoughts.

☀︎

Dinner was an uneventful affair. The food was about as exciting as the decor, and Wei Ying pushed it around on his plate for the majority of the lunch hour rather than actually eating. He searched for the pretty man from before, the one that he'd shared that oddly intimate gaze with. The man was nowhere to be found, however, and Wei Ying had little energy to try and join in the conversations at the pristine white tables surrounding him.

He knew it wasn’t like himself to be withdrawn. He was social, enigmatic, friendly, and exciting. He lived for conversation and never shut up and genuinely enjoyed being around people. Typically, at least. When he wasn’t holed away in his apartment during a bad depressive cycle.

Perhaps his Complete Soul Split had done more of a number on him than he initially expected. Could a soul break... really change the core of a human to that extent? To make them a shell of their former self? Or perhaps it was his former self that was the shell, and this empty mess of a person was who he truly was all along. It was a disheartening thought.

Wei Ying followed slowly behind the crowd of broken souls as they exited the dining hall, making his way back to the chairs he’d first sat in after his arrival. The pretty man was nowhere to be found, but he found himself seeking the comfort of the chairs nonetheless. It was easier to stick to himself, far from the crowds. He was safe there in his loneliness, blessed to be free from the obligation of pretending to be anything but the broken human he knew himself to truly be.

He spaced out for a while, following trails of thoughts that tumbled about and went nowhere and everywhere at the same time. He detachedly observed the tables at which people were playing cards and games. It looked fun in a distant sort of way, as if it was fun in concept but couldn’t exactly be applied to him personally.

Eventually, after an indeterminate amount of time had passed, the patients were gathered for a group therapy class. It was set in a moderately-sized room with couches and chairs lining the walls to create a sort-of circle for the patients to sit in. Wei Ying immediately sought out a chair in a corner that was pushed slightly further back than the neighboring couch and chair.

Once the patients had finished filtering in, Wei Ying finally caught sight of a familiar face. The man in white and blue silently took a seat across the room from Wei Ying, giving Wei Ying a small nod of the head before turning his attention to his hands in his lap.

Though no emotion crossed his blank face, Wei Ying couldn’t help but to feel somewhat comforted by the simple gesture. It was nice having an ally in this cloud-like atmosphere. It was... grounding, in a minute way. Just as it had been earlier that day. As if the man’s very presence gently grasped Wei Ying’s sleeve and pulled his drifting head from the endless ethers and back into reality.

The class began with the instructor introducing himself as Xie Lian, a licensed therapist with a specialization in soul healing and (more importantly) a survivor of a Complete Soul Split. There were a few gasps amongst the crowd, the newer patients evidently not having had worked with Xie Lian yet.

The man in the sheer light blue blouse didn’t bother looking up from where his gaze lay upon his hands. His blank expression seemed somewhat somber despite its indifferent appearance, and a small part of Wei Ying longed to reach out a hand to gently touch the man’s face in a show of comfort. That part was, fortunately, reigned in by the physical distance and societal convention separating them.

“We have a lot of new faces with us today.” Xie Lian smiled. “Well, let me welcome you to the Springs of Life. We’re all here for a common goal, right? We all came here from different places in our lives to try and heal ourselves. Healing is such a powerful act, and together I hope we can find the strength in each other to help lift ourselves up.”

A few faces nodded in agreement. Wei Ying remained as he was. He highly doubted any amount of happy words and supportive surroundings would be able to bring him back from a Complete Soul Split. His own sister couldn’t manage to do it so far, and she was the living embodiment of positivity and support.

No, Wei Ying was certain. Certain that he would never truly be able to recover.

Xie Lian handed each patient a blank sheet of paper and a brightly-colored marker. "Today," He began. "We will be compiling a list. You may list as many or as few things as you like. Today's topic will be 'Obstacles.' I would like each and every one of you to jot down a few of the obstacles impeding your life from getting to where you want it to be. What is getting in the way of your healing? Of your progress? Of your goals? What obstacles have led you to this very room?"

Wei Ying popped the cap off of his blue marker, but somehow couldn't manage to touch the ink to the paper. He glanced around the room, eyeing where the other patients were obediently scribbling away. His gaze returned yet again to the pretty man in the pale blue blouse. The man popped the cap off of his red marker, expressionlessly wrote down a single word upon his piece of paper, and then closed the cap once again. Wei Ying returned his attention to his own paper. He sighed deeply and began to write.

1. My brain

It was his sick brain, after all, that had gotten him into this mess. If he only could've held it together, or if he hadn't had to bother with mental illness in the first place, his soul most certainly wouldn't have broken. His life was fine. Everything else was fine. It was just Wei Ying that wasn't.

2. My soulmate

This issue was, in part, due to his soulmate as well. The pair of them created a

Complete Soul Split

together, which most likely is what incapacitated Wei Ying in the first place. So it made sense, then, that his soulmate was partially to blame. Deep down he knew that such projections were childish. It was not as if his soulmate chose to break his soul, just as Wei Ying did not choose to break his. But a far more childish and petty part of Wei Ying's mind enjoyed having someone else to blame. To resent. To feel bitterness towards. Even so, Wei Ying found that writing those two words did not bring him any comfort.

3. My-

He hesitated. There were a million things he could put in that place, but ultimately only one held truth. He scratched through the first three points on his list and instead started anew. He wrote upon the page only one single thing:

Myself

For ultimately, it did not matter that his brain was sick or that his soulmate caused him potentially irreparable damage. It did not matter his relationships with his family and friends, nor did it matter his place of residence. It did not even matter whether or not he enjoyed his job. And... he did. Sort of. Most days. He enjoyed the flexibility of freelance work. He loved creating new designs, even if they had to be constrained to the requests of his clients. He took great pleasure in lording the fact that he didn't have to go into an actual office over his brother's head.

But none of that mattered. Wei Ying's greatest obstacle, as always, was ultimately himself.

Eventually, the caps of the markers closed and Xie Lian stood with a soft smile upon his face. "Good, good. I'm glad to see everyone feeling so participatory this evening. Now anyone who would like to is free to share some of what they put upon their list. Some people may feel the need to protect their privacy, and that is also okay! But for those of you that feel like sharing, we can go around the room counter-clockwise. I will begin with one from my own list."

Xie Lian took in a deep breath and continued. "A large obstacle in my life right now is conflict between those closest to me. It makes me feel obligated to step in and fix things, but that is not always the healthiest or most needed step of action."

The patients nodded in understanding. Then the person to Xie Lian's right declined. A few patients here and there began to share things from their own lists: poor communication, a dead-end job, an unfaithful spouse, etc. Wei Ying had begun to tune them all out when he found himself being asked to share. He stared upon the single word on his own list, looked back up at Xie Lian, and shook his head. The moment passed, and other patients began to share their own obstacles as well.

The attention made its way around the circle, eventually reaching the man in the light blue blouse that had yet to look up from the paper in his hands since he first wrote it.

"Mr. Lan?" Xie Lian asked. "Would you like to share any of what you've written with us?"

The man in the light blue blouse, Mr. Lan, slowly looked up from his piece of paper. His eyes met Wei Ying's for a single electrifying moment before he turned to look at Xie Lian. He then turned his piece of paper around for all to see.

Wei Ying couldn't help but to gasp. He'd thought the man attractive, surely. And electric. Magnetic, even, one could say. But he was also cold and distant, untouchable in an indescribably distant way. Yet, somehow, this man that appeared to float amongst the very clouds that formed the motif running about the Springs of Life had come to the very same conclusion that Wei Ying had.

Mr. Lan had written a single word in large red strokes:

Myself

Wei Ying studied the man's blank face, searching for any sort of explanation as to why he'd answered the same. When the man offered none, Wei Ying flipped over his own sheet of paper. The man's eyes widened and his jaw dropped ever-so-slightly, creating a small 'o' between his lips. They shared an electric gaze fueled with curiosity. They remained locked in their shared silence for several moments before Xie Lian cleared his throat and re-diverted the attention back to the class at hand.

"Thank you, thank you. Anything either of you would like to elaborate on that tonight before we move on?"

Both Wei Ying and Mr. Lan shook their heads. Xie Lian gave the last few patients a few moments to speak before the attention finally circled back to him. "Good, good. Now then, next I would like each and every one of you to take the paper within your hands. Now imagine that this paper holds the very obstacles you listed. Good. Envision it. Feel it. Believe it. Now take the paper and tear it to your heart's content. Don't hold back. Really let those obstacles have it!"

The sounds of ripping and shredding sounded throughout the room as everyone appeared to rather enthusiastically fight their problems. Wei Ying's eyes met Mr. Lan's. There was almost a... twinkle of amusement in his tired eyes. It certainly was odd to ask the pair of them to tear up representations of themselves, but in a way Wei Ying supposed that might have been exactly what he wanted. He ripped the paper. Tore it. Decimated it to smaller and smaller bits. It certainly was cathartic, even if the metaphor was probably not what Xie Lian intended. Mr. Lan ripped his own as well, albeit in a much more calm and organized fashion. Wei Ying found his own amusement in the action.

After all of the obstacles had been good and obliterated, Xie Lian began to hand out a second sheet of paper.

"Now then," He began. "Let's start the next bit by writing down how we can see our lives with our obstacles no longer holding us back. Really dig dip and envision it. I want everyone to really put in the effort to visualize it."

Wei Ying looked upon his blank sheet of paper. What would his life be like if he didn't get in his own way? What would he see? What would he feel? What would he be?

Wei Ying decided that he had no answer to any of those questions. He left the page blank, setting it to the side and bringing his knees into his chest. He spent the rest of the time observing Mr. Lan, who sat long and hard staring at his paper with the slightest furrow in his brow. He noticed that Mr. Lan wrote nothing either.

"All right, all right. Now then, I'll start the sharing and this time we'll go clockwise." Xie Lian instructed. "I envision that when my obstacles are overcome that I will find a more peaceful environment where I can have more group gatherings."

A handful of patients either skipped or shared, then made their way to Mr. Lan. Mr. Lan glanced between his blank sheet of paper, Wei Ying, and Xie Lian. Xie Lian smiled encouragingly. Mr. Lan eventually shook his head, choosing instead to skip his share. Wei Ying didn't miss the slight look of disappointment that crossed Xie Lian's face before he returned once again to his perfectly sunny disposition.

The remainder of the class skipped and shared, but Wei Ying tuned out the noise. His focus was drawn to the white of the walls, the fabric of the chair beneath him, and the silent rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Wei Ying wasn't sure if or when he was addressed, only returning his focus to the moment at hand when everyone began to stand and filter out of the room. Mr. Lan looked ready to bolt immediately, but Xie Lian called him back to stay behind.

Wei Ying slowly rose to his feet, knowing it was rude to eavesdrop and yet wanting so very badly to know any sort of detail about Mr. Lan. He made his way out as slowly as possible, picking up bits and pieces of dialogue as he made his way out.

"I'm very proud of you sharing today."

"You've gone so long without speaking up that I was worried about the lasting damage to your soul."

"You've made good progress, but you have to be willing to keep going, okay?"

"Your brother sends his regards. Your uncle, too."

The door closed being Wei Ying with a click. Suddenly he was back once again in the main gathering area with all of the other patients. They had resumed their card games and coloring pages, eager to discuss all sorts of unimportant bits of chatter. The sort of useless chatter Wei Ying once loved to partake in.

He sat once again in the chairs in the corner, bringing his knees into his chest and resting his head upon them. This was his life now. This was where he would remain until the facility finally realized that Wei Ying would be an incurable case. Until, perhaps, he even died of Complete Soul Split. He didn't want death, not really. It's just that he didn't much care for life. Not as it was, so empty and banal and draining. Not with the heights of pain and depths of despair. Not when he, and likely his soulmate as well, were broken beyond repair.

Wei Ying closed his eyes, listening for the gentle tick-tock of the clock on the wall opposite him. He could hardly pick out the sound over the noise, but once he managed to isolate it he focused on it and drowned himself in its rhythm.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The white walls and pale blue furniture that decorated Wei Ying's new life fell away. The sounds of the world around him ceased to exist. It was just Wei Ying and the gentle tick-tocking that grounded him and prevented him from truly flying away.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The strict rhythm allowed for no error, no manner of mistakes. It was a force to be reckoned with, not a disaster waiting for a moment to go off. It was... everything and nothing at all. Even as Wei Ying fell far enough into his head to disappear, the tick-tocking still stuck to the forefront of Wei Ying's mind. That, and the sight of a soft pale-blue blouse gently blowing in the breeze. Everything else, including Wei Ying himself, momentarily ceased to exist. But the clock and the blouse? They were all that remained in the world.

TBC...

[theravenclawmonster]

I thought getting diagnosed would be able to get me help...(post 2 of dunno how many)

The previous post of this series of posts can be found in this link post 1

Trigger warning: This post (and the later continuation posts after it titled the same) may contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, suicidal thoughts and many more things which i will try to edit in it after writing the post(s) (hopefully i’ll remember to) [yes, this is the same in all posts in series]

Disclaimer: this is just a written account of events that happened in my life in the past few weeks and my emotional/ physical response to those events. I am writing this here so that it stays here as help for people to read and maybe see what certain things feel like, and as proof or diary for when i forget what really happened and start to believe her words. Also, this is going to be a long post... a very long post. 

Okay, where was i? The first visit to the doctor. I had my tests done and bought the acidity medicine and the vitamins he suggested (i had already started to take vitamins again since a couple of weeks before, he just added folic acid to that. I also have a bit of an issue with vitamins and people telling me to eat them indicating that all will be well after that; but more about that later). in the pharmacy, my mother was pretty upset with me cuz i kicked her out of the room and told me some stuff i don’t want to remember right now. ummm... basically she said “ why did you ask me to leave, what secret were you going to tell the doctor? what did you tell him we did to you? i know what you think about me. you could have just said it all in front of me. what was with all the secrecy” [funnily enough, although i did ask her to leave, my reason was cuz i can’t really speak in front of her (she interrupts a lot too) and i was worried that i’d cry and didn’t want to hear about it for another 6 months. there was no secret or i didn’t even think about mentioning the abuse, cuz how do you just go to a stranger and say “ hi i am in pain and my parents abuse me”. even asking for help for my pain was demanding enough for me.] . she also “informed” me very angrily that the it wasn’t allowed for a woman to be alone with a male doc, a nurse must be present (which was not present) and that is probably why doc didn’t do the proper physical checkup. Well! he should have (if he thought an extensive one was necessary; he did check my breathing and stomach softness), called a nurse in or my mother in. i didn’t have any issues with him doing my physical checkup alone too.  and he didn’t mention anything about that to me at all.

Anyway, I went back thinking God knows how long was this process was going to take and if i had the energy to fight for myself and make people believe that i was actually in a lot of pain. the reports came back fine (the expensive test one too, to much displeasure of my father “but this came back fine, so expensive for no use. why did he even write that test?” as if it would have been somehow better to get a positive test back for a disease?! I really don’t know how his mind works. By the time all reports were in, it was time for my appointment at the psychiatrist and it was decided to go to her first, then on our way back show the reports to our primary doc. that way we could also talk to him about what she said.

Oh wait, i forgot to mention in my last post. the doctor only suggested the psychiatrist and later sent me her number saying that i have told her about you please take an appointment. i had to call her and i asked about her fees which she very nicely said would be discounted and that helping me and understanding what was stressing me was more important. I felt so weird then, i don’t really hear these type of things very often.... or almost ever. 

going to the clinic was easy enough, of course my mother and father accompanied me. and my mother did follow in. [let me just add that i only remember about half of what happened so...] the doctor ( hereby referred to as Psy lady) asked me “so, how are you?” and i said “ i’m good *smiled awkwardly as she realised that was not what she meant to ask*. she was like okay, how do you feel and what do you want to discuss me with. so i just sat there like a dumbass. then i asked her how much the other doc told her about me. she said it was just that you are his patient and needs psychiatric help in his opinion.

I am just going to make a dialogue format written account for that and the next doctor’s visit as this seems way too confusing.

At that time (not sure) my mother interrupted;

Mother: *turned to me* “if you don’t mind may i tell her the history etc” *in pointed politeness*

Me: “ok.”

Mother: *launched from how i was such a brilliant smiling child and wanted to take this scholarship abroad but she said no* *went off a long tangent about how she was just being a nice worried parent in controlling my life and now feels guilty cuz i can’t let it go* *finished by saying* “Dr., she just can’t forget that, she is stressed no job plus the lock down etc you know how it is. then she found out she has scoliosis in january and i think she has taken it to heart, like really it is completely asymptomatic and i have asked the doc she won’t have any problems cuz of it in the future” (i am guessing she meant having babies but really who knows) “she has just taken stress over that”.

Psy lady : *scribbled something on her paper* “My i have some time alone with her?”

Mother: “yes yes sure” *left* 

Psy lady : “so tell me a bit about yourself.”

Me: *was still fuming and recoiling and shaking in my seat cuz i just don’t understand until how long is my mother going to throw that in my face. it has been years and i wasn’t even that upset about it (at least i just quietly internalized it) but she refused, controlled my life (since birth btw and still does now) and not even let me do anything else i want to do, nor find a job, then proceeded to throw her ‘oh i feel so guilty, i am such a good parent. i have commited a crime by being caring and now i must be punished oh!’ at me. Like where am i in all that? you say no, you control, your guilt, your love, your care, your image as a parent that must never be broken. where am i in all that? ALSO you never listen to my complains about pain so shut up* 

Psy lady: ...

Me: “umm... hi... i umm never had a dream, but then i found this thing in my mid-twenties and i loved it, but they didn’t let me pursue it, then didn’t let me do anything. and now they act like i am a burden on them. now i have nothing to do or like, and i can’t even find a job or have anywhere to go. i don’t even really wanna die, i am just tired” *burst into tears yet again as i realized i had no idea why i was telling her all that and it felt so fake and story like at the same time*    “... i can’t even breathe and i am in so much pain all the time that i feel like detached from my body cuz every time i try to be in it it fucking hurts.”

Psy lady: “are your parents always this much controlling” *pointed to the door indicating my mother*

Me: “they are emotionally abusive”

Psy lady: *had been looking into my eyes but looked away at the word abusive and didn’t say anything*

Me: *continued after a little shock that i actually said it out loud* “I can’t walk, my knees hurt” *tried to repeat almost all that was possible from the previous doc*   *also told her about feeling dissociative and explained a bit how that feels for me* * told her all about how i was fine in dragging me through life but now that my body has suddenly collapsed (where as before it was just emotional pain and numbness and occasional body pains in back and stuff nothing too overwhelming or maybe i was mentally strong to ignore it) i feel very scared and lost. I was dealing with everything fine on my own even when i felt like dying but now i cant handle anything, i can’t even act in front of others; something i am exceptionally good at* *talked about lowered brain function, slowness, low blood pressure, no energy suddenly, not being able to retain information or remember anything, not having a concept of time and memory*

Psy lady: *explained about DPDR disorder and asked me about sleep eating etc.*

Me: *repeated the same: loved sleep can’t now, loved eating can’t now* 

After some time of explaining asking and answering, she said that i have depression and what happens is that our brain stops making certain chemicals and to get it to make them again we have 2 options. one is medicine; the other is motivation and exercises. it seems like the latter would be hard for me (and i confirmed that i infact cannot walk or do almost anything and exercise is too painful cuz pain everywhere) she said that the best route in my situation is to start the medicine for some weeks (she said she’d not give them for more than 4 months; whole course including tapering them out) and explained that the medicines were very safe and answered all my queries about dependency on them or side effects etc. I said if that is what she thinks would be best and if taking them means i could feel alive again and my brain function would return to normal.

she then asked me to bring my mother back in. she explained the medicines to her and said i have diagnosed her with MDD. My mother asked what is that. She said Moderate Depressive disorder. my mother asked if the medicine was necessary. she  said yes, and to not worry as these were safe and she’s only giving to get me started and pull me out of this extreme state, only for a short time. she also said that come back after 10 days of eating these, so we can see the effect and the side effects if any, and that day she’d also get me an appointment for a psychologist who worked in the same clinic as she thinks it would help me immensely. we agreed. took the medicine and left for the doc no. 1′s clinic. My mother didn’t say anything.

we reached his office and throughout the short car ride and while sitting there waiting for my turn, i was feeling very... accomplished? enthusiastic? Dunno... I was just trying not to cry cuz i finally had it written on paper, i was finally diagnosed, i had finally gotten help. yes, it was only a start and i don’t know much about how doctors work diagnosis and how much more can be added in future visits but it was a start. i finally did something to actually help me.

Finally, our turn came. we showed him the reports and told him what she said and prescribed. My mother asked him if the meds were necessary. 

doc: “yeah they really believe in starting meds right away.”

mother: “I don’t want her to take them, it’s like giving up. she can use her will power and get better right?” [she also added something very weird like ‘these stamps (mental disorders diagnosed on paper) are not good for a woman’ or something along this line]

Doc: “yes she can. i too would suggest she do that.”

Mother: *went off on a long tangent about how when she was my age she had depression after having my older sister. but she will-powered through it and didn’t take the meds etc*

doc: “yes i agree, but it really depends on her is she willing to do it” *in a tone that suggested that i should say yes immediately and will-power though life*

Me: * realizing no one is listening to me* “doctor, can you please talk with the Psy lady and ask her if they are necessary in her opinion cuz i have no will left to power though with.”

Doc: “okay.” *called her and talked right then* * told her that he thinks it would be better to willpower through it?

Mother: “well she can will-power through right?”

Doc: “well the Psy lady said that she has been powering through with her will power for years; she has none left anymore. so she thinks that meds are the best option and besides” *looked at the prescription again* “these meds are not addictive and very safe.”

Mother: * insisted on no meds for 15 more minutes and had a long discussion with doc about praying, watching motivational speakers and what not*

doc: *joined in enthusiastically*

Me: *stared into the distance and stops listening with my wobbly neck and painful back*

Doc: “well she is not even listening. can you do it? exercise?”

me: “no it hurts, as i have explained before, not like the yayy muscle cramping up cuz i worked out way and i will love exercise in 2 weeks time way. No! the tendons hurt the bones hurt the joints hurt extremely painfully and it increases with time, even after 2-3 weeks it doesn’t get better.”

Doc: “okay, how about friends? social life? what do you do at home etc”

Me: “my friends are not here, i never made new ones. no social life. even when i was going to class before the lock down, it was from home to uni, uni to home. had no friends there. and i did walked in uni for about half an hour or even more but it hurt in the beginning, i thought okay, cramps (although my knees and heels were very painful too) but it almost felt like it got better (the cramps part) but then it got way worse and after a month i couldn’t walk for more than 10 minutes at a very slow painful speed.”

Doc: *asked about pets, anything that would suggest i was a living being with a life*

Me: “pets are not allowed and so is leaving the house by myself.”

Mother: *interjected* “we have never restricted her for anything.”

By this time, i had frankly given up and i don’t remember what happened next or where the conversation went. just remember something along the lines of “ for these 10-15 days before the next Psy lady appointment, let her do whatever she likes to, don’t ask her don’t control her. let her start up her social life again. she needs to be around friends and the things she can enjoy” something like this. to which my mother said very confidently “sure whatever she wants to do”

then, we left his office and in the car she told me to “not eat the meds as we have ‘now discussed it with your doctor”

this is getting way longer. i think i’d make one more post about it, or maybe one more after that for bits that i forgot. this post seems so badly written upon second inspection. this is not even the 40% of what happened but i don’t remember what happened exactly, or even the timeline.

The third and hopefully last post of this series can be found here post 3

[maurianasravenholdt]

Mental health stuff has slowly been getting better. Antipsychotics seem to be a bad fit for me, so now I’m on a combo of two mood stabilizers. Things seem to be holding steady, and more adjustments are on the horizon, but I feel like I’m out of the woods.

Because I love to write, and I am often frustrated with how mental illness is portrayed in fanfiction specifically, I did just want to give people a peek into the disorganized thinking that comes with a manic episode for me.

Here is a picture of my usual journaling notes. The content isn’t important, I’m looking more at *how* it’s written.

Handwriting is fairly neat, there are numbered points to talk about. It all follows a topic.

And here is a page I wrote while ramping up to a manic episode.

Doodles. Illegibility. No cohesiveness. And the eye sketches are honestly a recurring theme tied to a pervasive sense of paranoia or ‘being watched’. The eyes are on nearly every page during the episode.

People often talk about mania as a sense of euphoric, super powered bliss. And for some it may be. I know my hypomanic (nearly manic) stages are like that - I feel amazing, never tired, super productive. But a full blown manic episode is frequently terrifying. Literal voices whispering in your ear. Feeling like you can do anything because you are so ‘lucky/gifted/indestructible’ so you find yourself balls deep in a situation that your brain thinks is totally fine but your deeper instincts know is *wrong*, and feeling like the dichotomy is going to tear you apart.

Being Bipolar isn’t cute. It doesn’t mean having ‘wishy-washy’ moods. It’s your brain feeling like it’s on fire, like some kid of cascade failure that you can’t stop. It’s *horrifying* for everyone involved.

So if you are writing a character with a serious mental illness, there are two take aways.

1. Serious Mental Illness is pervasive. This affects every facet of my life. I see a therapist weekly (sometimes twice a week) and a psychiatrist at least once a month. There are blood tests, medications, and so much home management. I have really, really good insurance and I pay $120/month for all of my treatment. It’s expensive and exhausting.

2. Unless you are witnessing a crisis, or are in a close relationship with a person, you have no way of knowing they have a serious mental illness. A large portion of my mental energy goes toward ‘passing’ as someone who is not mentally ill. Because the stigma, especially for illnesses like Bipolar Disorder, is so great that I have no choice but to fake ‘normal’. I do my best. And when I can’t I retreat. Your ‘flaky’ friend may be in a fight for their life.

So when you write a character with a mental illness, it’s so important to keep both facets in mind. And the dichotomy between having something be such a massive part of your life and needing to hide it. It’s like being soaking wet and trying to convince everyone that you’re dry.

[iamlithiuminati]

*Please note, the below are from my personal experiences and opinions. I will not be naming any person or hospital within my stories. I will show evidence, and censor any needed information, to back up my story. Please note, if you are feeling suicidal then please call 911 and speak with an operator as soon as possible. In addition, all artwork is the property of the artist. Some artist’s names cannot be located.*

Amongst my depression, social anxiety disorder, and my supposed “cannabis abuse disorder”, I have recently been diagnosed with bipolar 2 disorder. I had been diagnosed for the past 5 years with major depressive disorder, and social anxiety. Well, since I just recently found out I had bipolar disorder, I didn’t realize my depression medications, that I had been taking for the past 5 years had actually been making my manic symptoms much more severe; unannounced to me. Studies show, if taking depression medication while one has bipolar disorder, it can negatively affect moods. Now, a little background, bipolar disorder is a mood disorder, where an individual cannot control their moods. These moods typically range from extreme highs to extreme lows, to feeling absolutely nothing at all. With bipolar 1 disorder, a person will have more elevated and severe manic moods than depressive moods. Now with bipolar 2 disorder, a person will have more depressive states, and have hypomania states. Hypomania is a milder form of being manic, but still heavily prevalent in the disease.

    I always felt there was more than just depression that I was suffering from when I first sought a doctor out in 2015. However, the doctors would never listen to my suggestions. I spoke with many doctors over the past 5 years. The thing that angers me the most is when people ask me “Well, did tell your doctor this?” As that one of the most common responses back I get when talking to people. Yes, I have told numerous doctors about my symptoms and how I was feeling. I was ignored. Yet, because my father would never get tested for mental illness and his side of the family has no history of mental illness, my doctors would never rule me as having bipolar disorder. Which, in my opinion, is very dumb. But who knows more about myself than a doctor I saw 1 time, right?

    Why did I feel the doctors were incorrect? Because I watched my own behavioral patterns, personal movements, even speech patterns, and observing my own family members try to find what illness I had so I could eventually treat my madness. I knew depressive people were not so angry and are able to control their moods better. Finally, in July 2020, I told my 6th psychiatrist he needed to listen to me. I was finally diagnosed correctly. He was either going to listen to me, or I was going to become another statistic. I am now on proper medication. Bipolar disorder is one of the most expensive mental illnesses to treat and diagnose. My medical bills prove it. It cost me anywhere from $3k to $6k a year just to treat my mental illness. Without insurance, it would be more. However, at the end of the day. My life is worth so much more than money, worth more than gold, and worth more than medical bills. I am done. I found my voice, and this system better watches out. Because mental healthcare is about to get called out. This is one of the most difficult things I have ever dealt with in my life. This will never end. No. No, stimulus check will help. I have a permanent illness that will never go away, that I have to continuously treat.

    Where many people would have given up, committed suicide, and not seen the 6 different psychiatrists, 3 different counselors, 1 – 4-day stay at an inpatient hospitalization for suicidal ideation in 2019, 1 extensive outpatient therapy program designed for 6 weeks – 4 days a week for 3 hours a day, weening on and off several handfuls of different medications, wrong ones, right ones, fucked up ones, a denied trip to the mental hospital for suicidal ideation in 2015, then finally being accepted 4 years later to the mental hospital for suicidal ideation.

    Through all these struggles I kept going and going. I kept going with all these obstacles against me, all while still taking care of my relationship, taking care of my mental health while still on the wrong medications, taking care of our children aka dogs, receiving promotions, and praise at work. I held myself together. I felt it all inside, a madness. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run. I didn’t know where to run, or where to scream where no one would hear me. Where no one would worry about me if I just needed to explode. I was constantly putting everyone and everything else besides myself first, and as a priority in life, and it had been eating me up.

    Statistics show I already have an average of 9.2 years taken off my life span, due to me having bipolar disorder. Bipolar disorder affects approximately 2.3% of the U.S. population, affecting more women than men. Some of the medication I take that helps treat this illness, also has damming effects to the body, as well. This does not mean only weight gain. But I am referring to the shrinkage, and damage to your central cortex. This can occur if taking certain medications daily, for many, many years. Additionally, 1 in 5 people who suffer from bipolar 1 disorder, will commit suicide, and that statistics doubles for people who have bipolar 2 disorder. Now, you may understand why it is so important for me to keep myself grounded, levelheaded, and away from any negativity.

    But, you know what statistics also show? Statistics also show that people with bipolar disorder are more empathetic, more creative, and more talented than other individuals. Research says this is due to people with this disorder using their talents as an outlet of their mania. It kind of helps them speak externally. Carrie Fischer was one of my idols, who suffered from bipolar disorder. If you have time look up her interviews about the manic depressive disorder, which is also known as bipolar disorder.

    I have recently found a new light, and I am trying to stay grounded and speak my truth. People have thanked me for telling my story, and I just want people to know that you are not alone. I thought I was alone, left in a very dark place for many years. You can make it, you can and will survive this. On a personal side note, I do take work and my work ethic seriously. Some call me a workaholic, but work feeds my mania. Where drugs, drinking, and social engagement feed other’s mania, work always fed mine. If my story can help someone, touch someone, save a life, make them smile, this is all worth it to me. If I can ultimately erase a statistic of suicide, then that is a life well worth living to me. This is not my journey alone. Yes, this is my story, but there are millions of people across the world that have and are currently suffering.

    I found a quote that I’d like to share that I feel perfect grasps at what being Bipolar actually is minorly like, below.

“I have bipolar 2 disorder:

    My moods change more often than the seasons, and with that my moods, my energy levels change also. I am either too up, or too down, but I am rarely in between. When I am down, I cannot just snap out of it. I cannot think positively to make it all go away. I can barely pull myself out of bed and into the shower. Being around people is just too hard. I do not always feel sad sometimes I feel nothing at all. It may seem like I am giving up, but this is when I am fighting my hardest, just to stay alive. When I am up, life is wonderful. Nothing can go wrong, and I have all the energy in the world. I want to go out, I want to DO, I want to accomplish. I am confident. I talk too fast, and I think too fast. And it bothers me when those around me cannot keep up. Sometimes I am irritable or snappy. I want things done my way. I want everything done at once. I am impulsive. I like being up more than being down, but I am down much, much more often. The hardest part of the disorder is that I never know when my mood will change. It is a rollercoaster, and it is exhausting to ride a rollercoaster every day of your life. I hide what I am going through in order to make you feel more comfortable, and I am tired. I did not ask for this any more than a person asks for cancer. I fight it every single day. I AM STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW”

    I respect people who recognize that they have a mental illness, and/or take preventative maintenance, and take medication for it. That is the socially responsible thing to do. I feel people who do not take medication will ultimately blame their negative behaviors on their illness, and not take ownership, or responsibility. I take medications and I feel alright. Yes, I do not work as fast, and my thought processes have totally changed. But I am still the same person at the end of the day. I have no time for drama or negative people with the limited time I have in this world. You do you, and I will do me. However, the last thing anyone will pretend to be is better than anyone else. Because chances are people aren’t better than anyone else. God knows I am not. You are only as sick as your secrets, and I have none.

    I will not be silenced because it may make one feel uncomfortable talking about a subject. Welcome to my life, and the 21st century. ​

#IamLithiuminati

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[bentonluna]

10 Steps to Attract the Life You Want

By Heather Mathews Author of Manifestation Miracle

“What you seek is seeking you.” - Rumi If I told you that you could create the exact type of circumstances you want, would you call me crazy? What if your very thoughts could create ripples of change that not only impact your life… …but those around you as well? Philip, a call center worker from the Philippines certainly didn't think so. He dreamed of moving overseas so he could secure a better life and provide for his family. But at every turn, his own mind shut down every opportunity he thought of. For instance, Philip considered seeing an immigration consultant, but he either “didn't have the time” or “couldn't afford it”. So, he resented his situation and cursed himself (and the world) for his “bad luck”. He didn't realize that the real culprit was his mindset - not his circumstances. And it seemed like the more he ruminated, the more bad things happened. Thus, he kept feeding the cycle of being stuck in a rut and feeling bad, trapping him even more. That was, until his aunt Sara introduced him to the Law of Attraction. Turning the tide Before she moved to California, Sara had been close with Philip and treated him like a son. She had her own share of struggles finding greener pastures abroad, but she applied the principles from the Law of Attraction to overcome them. So she sent a few books on the topic to Philip through Amazon so he could gain the clarity to turn his life around. Click Here To Discover the Lazy Person's Secret To Get Everything You've Ever Wished For  At first, Philip didn't really think much of it, but he decided to read through the books since his aunt went through the trouble of sending it over. After he started applying the lessons he learned from the material, things started to change for him. It came as a complete shock to Philip - he never thought in a million years that making a simple shift in his thinking could have such a direct and POWERFUL impact in his life. And soon enough, the fog of negativity and despair around Philip lifted and he found a way to make his dreams happen. Through his persistence, he was eventually able to borrow the money he needed for the consultation fees, and learned the step-by-step process to get work overseas. Philip was finally able to find a fulfilling and rewarding career in Australia. Not only does he get to support his family back home, he also made friends and enjoys his new life abroad. Just a few months ago, Philip's parents started their own business, thanks to his help. At the rate they're going, his family could save enough so they can pass on their business to another relative and follow Philip to Australia. ould wait for Philip to take the offer so they can move there instead. Whatever option Philip chooses, the possibilities for him are almost limitless. But he's just one of thousands who made the Law of Attraction to work for him. Like Philip, a lot of people are initially discouraged to try because they think it takes a lot of work. But the reality is that it's surprisingly easy to get started. You just need to follow these 10 Super Simple Steps to Attract Everything You've Ever Wanted: Step #1: A little gratitude goes a long way The first thing you should learn about the Law of Attraction is that it operates on energy. YOUR energy, to be exact. Everyone has a different kind of energy they bring into the world, and it affects them in ways they often don't see or appreciate. The secret lies in the FREQUENCY of a person's energy - and you need to raise yours in order to change your life. Think of your unique energy as a sort of gas that fills the space of your reality. Whatever “gas” or “energy” you pump out into your immediate space will define your existence. Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, said this in his book, “Man's Search for Meaning”: “To draw an analogy: a man's suffering is similar to the behavior of a gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber. Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the "size" of human suffering is absolutely relative.” So if you want to invite great things into your life, you need to set the stage first. And you can do that by leading with the right energy. That's why being grateful and appreciating what you have is powerful way to re calibrate your frequency. Most folks hold off on feeling this way for AFTER they get what they want. But that's putting the cart before the horse, as the saying goes. When you LEAD with gratitude, it will act as the precedent for everything good that follows. Click Here To Discover the Lazy Person's Secret To Get Everything You've Ever Wished For  What I like to do is start of my day by making a list of things that I'm grateful for. If I miss anything, I save it for later and update my list at the end of my day. And when I go over my list during the weekend, I'll see exactly how much good stuff I've accumulated. This creates a kind of snowball effect and helps me attract even MORE good stuff down the road. Step #2: Be generous This can be a challenge for some people if they feel like there isn't enough to go around. But if you take the initiative to SHARE whatever you can without asking anything in return… … you'll generate the kind of energy that attracts prosperity for everyone… …including YOU. Again, this is the Law of Attraction at work. Try offering your time, talents and material wealth to those who need it - you'll soon invite blessings without even trying. Step #3: Visualize your future What I find amazing about kids is how powerful their imaginations are. When they role-play with other children, you can see in their eyes how REAL their games are to them. This is something that's lost on grown-ups, and it's important to recapture that ability to envision the kind of reality you want. The Universe likes to play games with us- the better you are at visualizing, the more you'll be rewarded. Like I said, a certain type of energy attracts a certain kind of reality. So if you focus your energy and thoughts on that dream job you want or the car you've always wanted to drive, you'll raise your frequency to ATTRACT those exact things. Step #4: Let the negativity pass When the bad times roll in and you feel like dirt, sometimes it's better to step aside and let it run its course. Having negative thoughts and emotions are totally normal, but you don't always have to wrestle with them. You can simply acknowledge what's going on in your inner world - then CHOOSE to keep moving forward anyway. Let this negative energy pass through your system like bad case of gas. The sooner you let it do its thing, the quicker you can get back to what you were doing. (Sorry for the fart analogy, but it get the point across, doesn't it?) Step #5: Never stop growing It's good to have a daily routine in your life, but not at the expense of your personal development. Most people are so set in their ways that they're afraid of the thought of doing something new. Then they complain about their humdrum lives, or that some folks “have all the luck.” Breaking out of your comfort zone is never an easy thing, but it's a step worth taking. No matter how loaded your schedule is, find some chunks of time to do things that will help you grow. Whether it's taking an online course, joining a community, or taking up a hobby, this is a powerful way to attract new and exciting things in your life. Step #6: Avoid the “toxic” crowd There are people who seem hell-bent on pulling others into their world of misery. Whether they're trying to lessen their own pain or simply enjoy doing it, you need to steer clear of them. Instead, choose people who will have the opposite effect on your psyche. Not only does a person's energy attract circumstances, it's also CONTAGIOUS. So make sure you hang out with the people who'll inspire you to achieve greater things - and not bring you down with apathy or inaction. Click Here To Learn How to Force the Universe to Manifest Your Dream Life  Step #7: Give yourself permission to succeed Most of the world's most brilliant people were put down in some way. Somewhere along the way, someone told them they'd “never make it” or were “destined to fail.” In your own life, certain people have tried to discourage you in some way. They might have tried putting you down when you were growing up - or it could have been last week. It doesn't matter. What's important is that you understand that NO ONE can put labels on you. And more importantly, they can NEVER give you permission to achieve what you want in life. You need to do that for yourself. Don't let their words define your “story”. You don't have to fit whatever petty narrative they're trying to force on you. Step #8: Affirm who you are Instead of feeding into the lies that people tell you, let this be the day to start living your truth. Create statements that embody the truth you choose to be, AND to live in. People do this all the time. When Elon Musk tried to launch the world's first privately owned rocket and failed, he told himself, “I'm going to try again, and I WILL get that thing into orbit.” (Well, maybe not exactly like that, but you get the point.) And so his company SpaceX went back to the drawing board and got it right after the third attempt. Elon affirmed his truth and it manifested into reality. In the same way, you can choose to affirm whatever truth applies to you. Be honest with yourself and acknowledge the things that TRULY matter to you. You know it, and the Universe knows it. The key is to repeat it yourself every day. For example, if you know deep in your heart that you want to make a better life for yourself, you can say something like this: “I may be struggling right now, but I know deep inside that I have what it takes to improve my life. I see myself transforming into a happier, wealthier person who makes other people's lives brighter.” When you operate from even the tiniest shred of truth, you can grow that into a powerful force over time. Step #9: Fail spectacularly Here's something most people don't know about the Law of Attraction: before you can enjoy success and find true happiness, you need to crash and burn. It's better to go after what you want and risking failure rather than playing it safe and not trying at all. To create order in your life, you'll have to embrace the chaos that comes before it. This is where you'll find the real lessons, even if they hurt a little. (Or in some cases, a LOT). Think of yourself as the beautiful Phoenix, like in the legends. Imagine burning off bits and pieces of yourself that you don't need. As you rise from the ashes, you're reborn into a NEW YOU. That's evolution. It may be an imperfect and unpleasant process, but the results are worth it. Step #10: Remove your BIGGEST barrier to success People don't realize that their greatest roadblock is none other than their own mindset. They may say they want something to happen, but don't REALLY mean it. For instance, someone might want to lose weight, but they don't want it bad enough. Worse, they might not actually believe they can shed those pounds. A part of them refuses to acknowledge the faintest possibility of it happening. This is pretty much why people NEVER attract the things they want in life. In order to remove this barrier, you'll need to change something inside you. You need to dig deep and understand WHY you don't want it as much as you say you do. Are you scared of suffering through the process of getting what you want? This is what turns most people off - they simply can't process the discomfort involved with growing up. At the same time, you need to deal with the reasons why you think that your desired reality is impossible. It could be some deep-seated beliefs brought about by past events, or experiences growing up. Once you sort this out, you'll be free to do what you want without any pre-programmed beliefs holding you back. Now, these ten steps we just talked about will get your foot in the door. Once you start doing them regularly, you'll experience remarkable breakthroughs you didn't think were possible. But if you want to witness even MORE changes on a massive (or even cosmic) scale, you need to check out my FULL course called Manifestation Miracle. Like the name suggests, I enjoyed nothing short of a life-changing revolution not too long ago. In a lot of ways, my situation was the same as Philip's. I worked myself to the bone and felt unfulfilled. I was trapped in my soul-crushing career. Even though I needed the money, I HATED having to put up a hollow appearance of a happy, successful businesswoman. But then I discovered how turn my mind into a magnet for prosperity and abundance… Learn how I unlocked the secret to ATTRACTING anything AND everything I wanted - CLICK HERE to watch the video now…

[chiseler]

“You Devilish Mummy!”: Mexican Horror in America, 1958-1963

Rosa Arenas

For some people, Cinqo de Mayo means a nacho party platter, a cooler full of Corona, plastic sombreros and a pinata filled with stale butterscotch discs. For a few of us, though, Cinqo de Mayo means one thing and one thing only: Aztec mummies. The sad part of it is that it might actually make much more sense than the nachos.

After Tod Browning and his crew left the set at the end of the shooting day while working on 1931’s Dracula, they were replaced by director George Melford and a Mexican cast and crew. Using the same sets, the same cameras, and a translated version of the script, they worked all night to shoot the Spanish-language version of the film. Those who have seen both tend to agree that the Spanish version is the superior of the two. The cinematography is more vibrant and less stage-bound than the Browning version, the atmosphere is richer (possibly because they were shooting at night), and most important of all, the Mexican Dracula (Carlos Villar) smolders with a sexual energy and menace Bela Lugosi, great as he is, lacks.

Prior to the mid-’50s, most American audiences would probably be surprised to learn that Mexico even had its own film industry. That’s when low-budget producers from Sam Arkoff on down recognized the economic advantages of snapping up the US distribution rights to existing foreign genre pictures. It made perfect sense. You didn’t need to hire any directors or cameramen or gaffers. There were no actor hissy fits to smooth over. All you needed to do was dub in some English dialogue that more or less made sense, fit the action on the screen, and approximately matched the actors’ lip movements. Or maybe not, whatever. Sometimes you might want to bring in an editor to try and rearrange a few scenes so the picture and dialogue’ll make more sense to the kids at the drive-in, but even that wasn’t always necessary. Come up with a snappy English title, Americanize some of the actors’ names, and you’re good to go. The important thing is these films could be picked up for a song, and minus a few minor expenses everything they brought in was gravy.

Suddenly US theaters were full of sci-fi, horror, and westerns from Italy, Japan, Spain, and yes indeed, Mexico. Low-budget distributor K. Gordon Murray quickly established himself as the king of marketing Mexican horror cheapies to American audiences, handling films like The Man and the Monster, The Brainiac, Curse of the Doll People, and a whole lotta movies with “Aztec Mummy” in the title.  It would be nice to say these films have complex and thought-provoking storylines, that the acting is strong and subtle, that the cinematography is dazzling and the special effects on a par with any major American studio at the time, but that would really be pushing it. A lot of the films were just slapdash, flat-footed remakes of popular American films but with cheaper sets. A few of them do stand out, though, in that even the dubbed and edited versions remain uniquely Mexican, even if they do seem to tell the same story over and over again. And some of them are just plain nuts.

Genre director Rafael Portillo and screenwriter Alfredo Salazar were best known for their Aztec Mummy and wrestling pictures, and in 1958 topped even Santo Meets Dracula with La momia azteca contra el robot humano, translated as The Aztec Mummy Against the Humanoid Robot or, more simply, The Robot Meets the Aztec Mummy.

As the opening narration assures us, the film is based on an “actual experiment” conducted by two scientists from “The Los Angeles University” and verified by witnesses who “signed sworn statements with a notary public” so “there is no question about this story’s authenticity.”

Please keep that in mind.

The film is told mostly in flashback and through voiceover, which is generally a sure sign you’re watching a heavy-handed bit of editorial butchery. The same sort of thing was done regularly to the US versions of Toho films, usually with a mind toward simplifying the story.

Okay, a psychiatrist (Ramón Gay) is mocked by his colleagues when he presents a paper about past life regression, so he storms home and hypnotizes his wife Flora (Rosa Arenas). We slip into a low budget flashback within a flashback as we learn Flora was once an Aztec maiden on schedule to be sacrificed when she runs off with a warrior. The village priests find them, bring them back, and bury the warrior alive after placing a curse on him. Then they fit the old Flora with a gold bracelet and breastplate inscribed with directions to the location of “the secret Aztec treasure.” Then they cut out her heart, which may say something about the effectiveness of that breastplate.

Returning to the first flashback, we learn the evil Dr. Krupp had spied on the experiment and now wants in on it. Nevertheless the good doctor decides for some reason that the best way to prove his theory is to find the bracelet and breastplate, so they all go looking. Lucky for them they find a secret passage under the pyramid that I guess is in their backyard. Moments later they find the ancient temple, the skeleton of the old Flora, and the breastplate which they take home with them. The fun doesn’t last long, though, as  the warrior’s mummy shows up at the house, grabs the breastplate, grabs Flora, returns to the temple, and prepares to cut out her heart again. At this point we’re about six minutes into the film.

Then it turns out, see, that Dr. Krupp is really a sinister underworld figure known as The Bat, and...oh screw it. Over the course of the rest of the film we get gangsters, a shootout, hypnotism, a mad scientist, a pit full of rattlesnakes, that mummy again, some Aztec rituals, a few vanishing bodies, a police investigation, a stolen corpse, a stolen brain, and a stolen “machine that uses radium,” together with lines of dialogue like, “oh, you devilish mummy!” and “continuing our search we hurried to the snake pit.” Eventually we even get a robot there near the end (though it’s more of a reanimated corpse wearing a metal suit festooned with some blinking lightbulbs),and it has a brief and slow wrestling match with the mummy.

And all of it, believe it or not, is crammed into a zippy 65 minutes. No, it’s not a particularly good film as the term is traditionally used, but it is a fascinating one. As crazy as it all gets, as big as some of the plot holes and lapses in logic may seem, the craziest thing of all is that you can’t really criticize it for any of that given that it’s, y’know, based on a true story.

Robot Meets the Aztec Mummy is a pretty extreme example of what was coming out of Mexico at the time. Other genre pictures were no less strange, maybe, but a little more sane.

Three years after Bert I. Gordon’s Attack of the Puppet People and 25 years after Tod Browning’s The Devil Doll, Benito Alazraki released his 1961 film Muñecos infernales, better known in the States  as Curse of the Doll People.

An archaeologist interested in ancient rights and such and her physician husband (Ramon Gay again) visit an art collector friend who regales them with the exciting tale of his recent trip to Haiti. While there, see, he and two friends witnessed a secret voodoo ritual that included human sacrifice. For all the crazy goings on though, the art collector couldn’t take his eyes off the idol the voodoo priests were worshipping. He thought it would make a fine addition to his collection, so the next day he went back and stole it.

(Given that the story is not told in flashback, just by some guy sitting in an easy chair, I’m tempted to think the whole Haiti angle was an invention of the screenwriter for the American version. Maybe the producer was a little tired of Aztecs by this point.)

It’s not hard to guess that stealing a revered idol from a voodoo temple is not without its repercussions, and sure enough before you know it the children of all the men on the Haiti trip start receiving new dolls in the mail. Real nice, realistic-looking ones too. None of the parents seem a bit concerned by the arrival of anonymous gifts for their children, merely handing the dolls to the tykes and sending them off to bed. After a few cuts to an oddly Mexican-looking Haitian voodoo priest, well you guessed it. the dolls start coming to life and knocking off the parents in ways that can’t easily be traced back as the work of an evil dolly.

The one surprise here is given the budget, the special effects (midgets in doll clothes on oversized sets) are really, really good. Better than Bert Gordon’s, even. It’s just too bad the story around them doesn’t have a bit more zing to it. It’s a little flabby and obvious. Still, you start to get the sense a pattern is developing.

El baron del terror (released in the States as The Brainiac in 1962), directed by Chano Urueta, marked a bit of a break from the simple revenge plot. Oh wait, no it didn’t. But it was still a break from the standard storyline.

As the film opens it’s 1661, a comet has appeared in the sky, and  an evil baron  (Abel Salazar) is being burned at the stake by Inquisitors for practicing black magic. As evil barons are so wont to do when finding themselves in circumstances like that, he places a curse on all those who condemned him, vowing he would return in 300 years when the comet reappears and kill off all their descendants. The Inquisitors, for some reason, don’t seem terribly concerned by all this and go ahead and burn him anyway.

Cut to three hundred years in the future and true to his word the comet has reappeared and so has the baron, who  starts snuffing people who didn’t even know they were related to Inquisitors. Yes, it’s a plot we’ve seen how many times already? But the Brainiac, as the title might hint, does offer a twist or two. First, before he kills his victims the Baron transforms into a kind of hideous horned demon monster (the doll special effects were better). Then during the murders he sucks out his victims’ brains, which he keeps in a big salad bowl in the kitchen. When he lures someone over to his apartment and confirms their identity, all he needs to do is excuse himself to the kitchen for a moment, have a spoonful of brains, and shazam. No more descendant and more brains for the baron.

A year later  Ueueta returned to more standard form with La cabeza viviente, aka The Living Head. Here again he opens with a long prologue in which he went to some pains to at least give the illusion of historical accuracy. When a great Aztec general dies, not only is he buried, but so are a few of his servants and a high priestess to help him on his way in the afterlife. That those others weren’t quite dead yet doesn’t seem to matter much. It’s all quite a big to-do.

Cut to 450 years in the future, as an incredibly bad archaeologist and two assistants stumble upon the tomb. First they completely destroy the mummy of the high priestess and shrug it off. Then when he finds the invaluable Ring of Death, the archaeologist immediately announces that he’s going to give it to his daughter, “who likes ugly things like that.” Then after reading aloud the very clear curse that will befall anyone who desecrates the tomb, the trio scurry’s off with the general’s mummified head and the mummy of his servant (the one still clutching the knife). Do they then deliver them to the museum where they can be properly cared for and kept in carefully climate-controlled environments? Well, almost: he brings them back to his apartment and keeps them in the living room.

Yeah, it’s not really hard to see where this is headed. The daughter starts wearing the Ring of Death and gets a little kooky in the head . Then the servant and head come to life and all three of them (the daughter carrying the head) go tracking down the desecrators in order to cut out their hearts.

“I know what you’re thinking,” a police inspector says after the first murder. “But I don’t believe in legends. Or in superstitions either. All I know is that this is a very difficult case.”

That’s the real killer in The Living Head. Even more so than most, the dubbing is miserable, with most of the lines either being non-sequiturs, or so plainly obvious and logical they come out sounding like non-sequiturs. I get the feeling sometimes that the voice actors they brought in were never given scripts, simply shown the film and told to make it up as they went along.

Ah, but this is merely a taste of what’s out there in terms of Mexican horror. We haven’t even considered the Santo pictures yet, and there are hundreds of those. I’m not sure if the likes of Robot Meets the Aztec Mummy would really enrich anyone’s  appreciation or understanding of Mexican independence, but there are doubtless lessons to be learned here. Namely, should you happen to find some neat stuff in a sacred temple next time you’re in Mexico, for godsakes just leave it there, no matter how cool it is. Those Aztecs mean business.

by Jim Knipfel