#but yeah i want to talk to my current therapist about both my ocd and dissociation problems but im scared to flat out say that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

that1britishperson · 4 years ago

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Another World - Chapter 1

pls note that this story does contain mentions of mental illness such as; social anxiety, depression, anxiety, and ocd. this is to spread awareness, as i am diagnosed with three out of the four. i understand it is not fun and it can put a huge burden on your life, and some things are better to be talked about than left in the dark. always remember that there is help and know that you are loved and that you are not alone.

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[6 months earlier]

It was the same thing almost every day. Her parents arguing, failing almost all of your classes, going to meet your therapist. And every day, she comes home from school and locks yourself in the only place where she could feel secure; her room.

"And how are you doing today, Miss [L/N]?” The therapist had asked. He had a notepad with a pen his daughter gave to him. Mr Meaner crossed his legs while looking in your direction, hands folded on top of one another while he waited for a response.

[Y/N]’s head was thrown back against the leather sofa as she stared at the ceiling. The old lights were replaced with a chandelier with crystals on the side, it wasn’t too bright but enough to make the room feel cosier. “Same as any other day.” And it was the truth. She didn’t have many friends. It wasn’t like she wasn’t a likeable person, it’s just her anxiety telling her that nobody wants to be her friend.

And that is something the young woman hated. Feeling as if everything was her fault, that the reason nobody wanted to hang out with [Y/N] was because of the parents or that she came off as ‘weird’. “I see... And how are you doing on sleep the last we talked.”

Silence.

That was a good question. If only it were that easy to sleep in the current situation - but it wasn’t. The yelling, throwing, it kept her up most of the night and even with the prescribed medication, it was not enough.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.”

Mr Meaner sighed and took off his glasses and placed them on the desk. “Do you have anyone else you could stay with?”

“No. Almost all of my relatives are in California or out of the state. Nobody that I know is in New York.”

The therapist nodded his head and took a moment to figure out what to do. Mixed with [Y/N]’s social anxiety and insomnia, he understood that it was not easy to make friends and get out and meet new people. “You mentioned last week that you have a computer?”

Rising her head, she finally looked at the person who has been listening to her vent and help the young woman cope for almost a year, “yeah.”

“Okay,” He nodded, “I want you to do something for me [Y/N] - it’s to help you and settle your anxiety. Try making YouTube videos, music.. anything like that. I understand it sounds crazy now, but I promise in the long run that it will help you.”

“Absol-” She began but was immediately cut off.

“You don’t even have to show your face. I realise that you may be nervous, but doing this with help soothe your nerves when you talk to people. Give it a week, and if you do not like it then you don’t have to continue. Just give it a try.”

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And so, that's exactly what she did – almost a week later. After using the last of her birthday money buying a few games for her stable PC, and having the recording fail about five-time; she managed to film -webcamless-.

It was called Fallout 3, as it was always her favourite out of all of the four and was really great at it -- aside from the national guard depot, as she had little to no grenades and had died quite a bit, however, it was nothing editing couldn’t handle.

‘There you go,’ [Y/N] whispered to herself after she was done with her editing, it was not the best but would get better if she were to continue, ‘All you have to do, is it publish.’

To her, that was easier said than done. Many thoughts had run through her head: What if they didn’t like it? What if someone pointed out how she mixed up her words because of her nervousness? Would they call her out for not being able to get the vault 87?

As these thoughts carried on, the cursor slowly inched towards the ‘publish’ button. And just like that, it was done. Out, for anybody to see.

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The following morning she awoke to the phone buzzing, signalling that somebody was calling her phone. Groaning the young woman rolled over and picked up her cell that was on the nightstand next to the bed, being careful not to knock the [favourite colour] lava lamp on the ground. It was a gift that her father had gotten her on her eighteenth birthday just last week, and it’s something she would always remember because that day felt like everything was normal again -no parents fighting, staying up watching movies until all of them had fallen asleep.

Once in a blue moon would that happen again. “Hello?” Her voice was raspy, clearly telling the person on the other line that she had just woken up and most likely disturbed her.

“Hey honey,” It was her Nan and the only one in the family who she actually liked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

[Y/N] gave a soft smile even though the elder on the other end couldn’t see, “No, Nan, it’s okay. I had to get up soon anyway for school.”

“How are you doing there?”

“I would say I’m doing good. Although [major] is beating me up.”

A laugh was heard on the other end, “I am sure you are doing the best you can, sweetie. What about your parents? Did anything change?”

And there was that question.

“Same thing, different day.”

“You know you are always welcome to stay with your gran’dad and I in California.”

The young woman sighed, “I don’t have the money to fly down there, besides if I did, it would put my scholarship at risk.”

“We will gladly fly you here; and there are plenty of opportunities here [N/N]. Besides you are a smart girl, any school down here would be lucky to have you as a student.”

She laid back down and stared up at her ceiling, phone in one hand and the other tracing the patterns that the light gave above her, “I’ll think about it.”

“Just let us know, I love you.”

“Love you too.” After hanging up, [Y/N] tossed the phone to the side. Sure New York had some great places and many things to do even if you don’t have that much money; however she did have people in Vacaville that loved her (or more so her grandparents and her only friend she made in grade 8 who sadly moved away just before their graduation to grade 9: though both still try their best to talk to each-other.

Her phone buzzed, groaning as she debated weather or not to answer it. Thinking of the latter, [Y/N] reached for her phone and checked to see who was texting her.

New text from Ezra

Speak of the devil.

Unlocking the phone, she made her way to the messages and read what was sent.

EZRA YOU BITCH!

EZRA YOU MADE A YOUTUBE WITHOUT TELLING ME???

EZRA GURL, I HAD TO FIND OUT BECAUSE YOU ARE TRENDING!

EZRA i thought what we had was special 😔

Wait what? She had to go back to make sure she had read that correctly, she was trending? Exiting the messages, she had made her way over to YouTube and sure enough, she was at #6 for gaming.

Shock ran through her body. Her first video has gone viral overnight. And then reality settled in; she has gone viral in one night.

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erinoddly · 5 years ago

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Can I just rant for a bit?

Okay so. Discussions on representation of mental disorders under the cut

Also probably a little bit of passive aggressiveness oops

Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying a couple of things.

1. I’m not a mental health professional. All I’ve got going for me in that regard is that I’ve taken one psychology class in college. Which is to say...nothing.

2. I am diagnosed with, though currently not being treated for, Bipolar Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, minor OCD, and insomnia (which isn’t a mental disorder, but I’m putting it in here anyway). I’m also, though undiagnosed, most likely ADHD. I’ve been dealing with mental disorders for at least 13-14 years now, if not longer.

3. Everybody experiences mental disorders differently. Nothing is universal. So I’m only drawing off of my own experiences for this post.

Let’s get into the meat of my rant. Or...actually....probably two rants. One about how mental disorders and representation in media and one about Bipolar in specific, since those are both things that I’m thinking about today.

Mental disorders are not a character trait. They are an illness and need to be treated as such.

I saw this a lot when I was younger, mostly with younger teens/kids building their first OCs. They be writing out their personality description and use “bipolar” or some other mental disorder as a descriptor for their personality. But, like I said, those were mostly kids who didn’t really understand what they were doing and were likely uneducated on these topics, so I’m not trying to shame them for that.

But I’ve seen something similar. Recently. In writeblr (though I’m not going to call anyone out. Partially because I’m sure they wouldn’t listen to me even if I did.) Where symptoms of mental disorders are intentionally disregarded as such and are instead purposefully used as character traits, where mental disorders are considered to not be ‘illnesses’ but are instead just parts of people’s character. And part of me understands how that could be cathartic...

But it’s extremely damaging to others, especially impressionable younger people.

As I said, I’m mostly drawing off of my own experiences here, so feel free to enter into a discussion with me if you disagree or feel differently. I’m

I have extremely low self-esteem. That’s just a fact of life. I’m not sure what caused it and I don’t feel like delving deep enough into my mindset to figure it out. And let me tell you, being diagnosed with mental disorders did not help a single bit.

Society is, at least in my eyes, beginning to get a little more accepting about mental disorders. As long as those disorders are Depression and Anxiety and your symptoms are mild enough that they don’t effect the people around you, that is. But the fact of the matter is, other disorders are still heavily stigmatized. As are the symptoms. And so if you try and tell me that the symptoms of my disorder aren’t that, but are instead just inherent traits of who I am, it honestly makes me feel even worse about myself.

Even beyond that, there’s a fine line that I feel people with mental disorders need to walk. On one side, you have to accept that your disorder isn’t going away. It can’t be cured and it’s going to stay with you. It is, all things considered, a part of you. On the other side, you have to create some distance between yourself and your disorder. You can’t let it define you and you can’t use it as an excuse. And yeah, there’s a fine line between the two. It’s a line that I’m still learning to walk and it’s a line that I do stumble off of sometimes. But letting your mental disorder define you is dangerous both for yourself and for the people around you, as well as creating even more harmful stigmas about mental disorders that effect those that can’t let themselves be defined by it for their own well-being.

Thinking this way also leads to a mindset that people don’t need treatment. And even though I might be untreated as of right now, I am 100% for people with mental disorders getting treated. It takes some time, it takes some trial and error, but there are treatments that work. Personally, I went through a crap ton of medication before I found a combination that worked. Not to mention that this was worsened by the fact that I was misdiagnosed as Depressed for years before being diagnosed as Bipolar. And also, therapy doesn’t work for me. I’ve tried multiple therapists and haven’t found one that really, truly helps. But the fact of the matter is that for a good number of people, they do. I will never tell someone talking to me about their problems not to talk to a doctor or get in to see a therapist if they have the means to do so. Treatment helps. And getting treated, if you’re getting the right treatment, makes life so much easier to live. But telling people that their symptoms are just a part of them is telling them that it’s 100% okay for them to feel and act that way and that there’s no need to get treated, even if that treatment might actually make them feel better. You’re sacrificing their well-being to further your own ideals that mental disorders shouldn’t been seen as illnesses.

But that’s just it. They are illnesses. And they need to be treated, just like any other illness.

And that’s another thing. Mental illnesses are already seen as “fake” or “not that bad” in society. They already aren’t considered actual illnesses. So if I want to miss work because I had a cold, that’s fine. But if I want to stay home because I’m in the middle of a massive depressive episode and I’ve been staring at the wall for nine hours because I can’t get out of bed, it’s just me making excuses and being lazy. This mindset just furthers this issue.

(also I lived with a girl once who refused an treatment for her mental disorders because she refused to admit she had any disorders and that all her symptoms were just part of her personality. She also tried one (read that again. one.) anti-depressant and it didn’t help. She didn’t even try any more. And let me just tell you. Every single person in our house was completely miserable. Because her symptoms were awful and effected not only her, but how she treated others. And she refused to acknowledge any of it or try and seek out help because “it was just a part of her.”)

Now. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that people need to write stories that are brutally realistic about the stigmatization of mental disorders. That’s not at all what I’m trying to get at. But we do need to normalize accepting yourself for your disorder without letting it define you. And we also need to normalize getting treatment. Because trust me, being extremely depressed and dealing with suicidal thoughts isn’t normal. You need to get help for that. And it’s terrible when you feel like you can’t or don’t need to get treated because society looks down on people on medication or in therapy and makes you out to be “crazy.” And we need to make sure that others don’t have to go through that. And the best way to do so is to normalize it, not to act like it’s not an issue.

Anyway. That’s all I have to say right now on that. So let’s move to my next issue. Which will much shorter because I’m just....tired.........

Can we.....please........pretty please.........for the love of god please................get some good bipolar representation? i’m begging here.

I’m so tired of the same old shit about “oh this character/whatever is bipolar!! Which obviously means chaotic and violent and unable to control their temper!!!!!”

it’s so shitty and disheartening that that’s the majority of representation that we get. i am the most passive, conflict-adverse, pacifistic person I know. And trust me, I get called out on it all the time. like....yeah. there are people with bipolar disorder that are violent and destructive. but there are also people without that are. and yes, one of the symptoms of bipolar disorder is ‘irritability,’ but that doesn’t mean violent and abusive and constantly angry!!!!

so please....please........let me have some good representation. i’m so tired and upset by the entire “bipolar means destructive and violent” bullshit.....

#erin screams into the void #venting venting venting erin is venting venting venting

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pruebopruebapruebe · 5 years ago

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30 days of autism acceptance 2020 part 5

Day 21. Talk about comorbid conditions. Do you have any other disorders commonly related to autism? Were you misdiagnosed as something else first?

Ufff... tbh I think that some comorbid conditions are, in fact, natural responses and adaptations to daily life in todays world. Al final me da la impresión que todo esto consiste más en patologizar a la gente cuya biología le impiden adaptarse fácilmente al sistema de mercado global actual y al estilo de vida social que conlleva.

I am not diagnosed, but probably I got adhd and ocd [déficit atencional y trastorno obsesivo compulsivo].

No exactly, but they diagnosed me with depression... And one therapist hint to bipolar disorder [I told him about autism but I recognized the language he used in next sessions as concepts from bd].

Well I was depressed, but that was just a symptom, I think. They were on the right track, though.

Day 22. Talk about autism parents. How do you feel about this section of the community? Do you feel as if they speak over you? Do you find the term ‘autism parent’ rude or offensive?

I have not come across such kind of people, but I have hear about a problem with parents that make autism about themselves, I don’t know if this question refers to them. If that’s the case, I think this people doesn’t understand autism at all and I even think that some of them and/or relatives must be undiagnosed autistics themselves, because, you know

I can’t answer the two last questions because I don’t have enough sources, but if they are what I just described, then yes, I feel they speek over someone, but not me, I am an adult and have a supportive and educated family, a career, health and resources. I think they speak over their children, and that makes me even angrier, because they are persons, human kids, and depend on these people. I yet don’t understad what does “autism parent” mean as a concept so I can’t comment on that.

Day 23. Talk about your living situation. Where do you live? Do you live alone or with other people? Are you happy with your current living arrangements?

I live in the capital city of my country. I don’t have any problem of housing and I probably would not have never or not for a long time, since both my parents sold their souls to banks to have their own houses (and since they are divorce that’s two houses) and none of them would let me be on the streets even if I were 50 with a kid and unemployed.

I live with my two mothers and one of my sisters.

I am happy, but I know that eventually I’ll need my own place. I would like to buy something from the start instead of renting because at the end is the same money. Also i need a job cause right now I’m not studying nor working. I just don’t now what to do D:

Day 24. Talk about the stereotypes and misconceptions that neurotypicals and allistics have. What stereotypes have you heard about autism? How do you respond to people who have incorrect stereotypes about autism? What kind of things should people not say to autistic people? What’s something you wish NTs/allistics knew about autism?

Today I heard some comments from a friend of the family (who is a doctor) and it was all like “yeah mildy asperger tbh I think y’all are more OCD”.

Stereotypes are bad and lead to harmful stuff like more people going undiagnosed.

I have heard that we lack empathy by default [”yeah and empathy towards us, what about that, u b*tch” are the kind of things I want to respond], that we can not get hints or be social or have a group of friends or “ordinary” special interests, and other stuff like that because at the end it all depends on the person and how they express their interests, personality and ideas through their actions on the environment, and their relationship with others, and all of this under different circunstances and with different sets of habilities and limits determinated my time, space and -overall- chaos.

I try to not get made and not engage in any kind of discussion about the subject.

There are a lot of weird things to say. “You need to behave/control yourself”. No, I don’t “have to” behave/control myself. I have to keep a balance in our interactions and stay in your zone and do the job to bring you to mine and guide you while you stay on your zone without helping me and coming just sometimes to my zone. Idk if that makes sense so I’ll try it again: I have to translate all the time between your language and mine, and you take for guaranteed that I do speak your language and that I do have to speak your language and that is your language the one that’s the correct, good one. In that scenario, "control yourself” is the same as “speak the only language, my language”. Still, I get where this kind of comments come from. I understand. And sometimes these comments are fair. “You always have the last word”, I think this is a mix of an adaptation to abuse through life and the fact that the true and facts are important for us and we need to get the facts straight + maybe some RSD if you got ADHD [or somehing else along these lines], so we fail to come to realize that, in that situation, facts and the true doesn’t matter, but feelings and relationships, so while the other person is fighting over what they felt, we tend to talk about who is right.

They should know that our mind is not defective, but different, and that affects everything.

Day 25. Talk about meltdowns/shutdowns. Do you have them? How often? What are your triggers?

I had some strong meltdowns before knowing about autism and didn’t have a name for them or any clue to understand them and protect myself. I also had shutdowns and even if they sometimes got me in troubles, I didn’t really hate them... It just felt “like me”.

I do have them, both meltdowns and shut downs. I go through meltdowns and it looks like a little crisis and I can hide in my room if is not too bad. I do have shut downs sometimes when I’m tired but tbh i like the feeling of surrender that comes with them.

[Surrender? Is that the feeling? Or it feels “like”, “similar to” surrender?].

The shut downs can be once a week or maybe more, and meltdowns after enough stress to drain my self, and I can’t really give an average for month or year cause it’s more about how much I’m asking my body and mind to go through at the time.

My triggers are usually a hard, long, stressful day that leads to social misscomunications that leads to conflict that leads to me doing some kind of mental short-circuiting which leads to te meltdown.

#30daysofautismacceptance #autism #texto

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poetic-beats · 6 years ago

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Update: Good news

The lady I saw with the crisis team was absolutely amazing. Honestly I wanted to hug her at the end but i felt that would not be appropriate.

She sat and listened to us for over an hour. Like we were literally in there with her until gone 8pm...

I was like what now...its gone 8 wow...but she didnt like say anything about it she didnt like stop us or whatever...you know she let me and my mum talk away and she asked the questions she needed to ask.

She was just so lovely. So SO lovely. She completely empathised and understood my situation and my mums feelings and situation handling all this.

She is gonna refer me back to meadow lodge but hopefully i get the other psychiatrist not my old one.

But also it was more because i obviously need emergency care and to refer me to a brand new psychiatrist place outside of my area too would take longer.

Also there is this whole thing because i was discharged less than 6 months ago when the crisis team put in a referral the process should happen very fast from her sending in the referral to the psychiatrist team at Meadow Lodge making an appointment for me. Because of the time span between the referral from her and me being discharged from Meadow Lodge.

Where as a new place I would just be getting an appointment as a new patient with no record of ever being under their care and I wouldn’t necessarily get seen as fast.

I am hesitant if i do end up with my old psychiatrist again but she told me I can always write in a complaint to my psychiatrists manager. I did not know this was even a thing as she is the head of the psychiatrists at Meadow Lodge but the lady explained to me they should usually and always do have someone in charge of that whole place as they have more than just psychiatrists working there so its like the top guy who runs the whole meaodw lodge and the psychiatrist i saw just was sort of the manager of the psychiatry department within the lodge but thats comforting to know there is someone above her at the lodge that i can file a complaint with if i get her again.

Also my GP and the crisis team lady were confused about why i’d never been offered CBT or even told that there is a free self referral place in my town that offers CBT the crisis team lady was very shocked that I was NEVER given this option or ever told about it.

Because I had mentioned I had asked my ex psychiatrist for CBT as an example of the other kinds of therapy I had wanted. Because one thing to point out.

BPD’s main treatment is DBT with mindfulness. Bipolar therapy is CBT.

The mindfulness portion of the BPD therapy which i sat through before having to leave for my own good due to a Mania that was not helped by the teachings of the mindfulness course which told me to live in the moment and forget the future or past and consequences basically like trying to reduce anxiety i suppose but someone in a bipolar mania cannot handle that youre basically giving me a green light to spend all my money and be reckless.

And the lady at the crisis team completely understood this! Which was refreshing. It is as if they didnt take into account BOTH my conditions when offering me this therapy. And when i brought up this issue to my ex psychiatrist she got defensive and rude and then discharged me.

But yes...I am excited now that i can do CBT which is not gonna trigger the BPD and will be effective for the Bipolar oh and its not that CBT doesnt work on BPD patients its just they believe BPD patients might respond better too DBT.

But as you know every patient is different and its not a one shoe fits all. Also this information only goes on the basis of someone having JUST BPD not that AND bipolar.

So you cant say oh BPD patients respond to DBT that is what you will do. Because I also have Bipolar and DBT is NOT recommended for obvious reasons for that. So they should have taken that into account. AND CBT on patients with BOTH conditions well it can work.

Obviously in an ideal world I would receive a multi disciplinary approach a psychotherapist who draws the best bits from multiple therapeutic techniques to combat the issues within both my disorders. But I NEVER have and NEVER will expect that on the NHS given its current state. Sad thing is when looking for private therapists in my surrounding areas. They do not seem to be helping out BPD and Bipolar patients. Let alone someone with both.

Most just offer therapy for PTSD OCD ANXIETY AND DEPRESSION and GRIEVANCE THERAPY like literally the BASICS.

I found one woman who is trained extensively in BPD adults. and has done a therapy which ive read up on and sounds amazing and results sound amazing but its relatively new to the Therapy world as most therapies have been around for a LONG time so this schema therapy completely redefines how we treat a patient with BPD. But as i said its shown amazing results.

But she IS around £80 a session possibly up to £100.

and I would more than likely be having bare minimum fortnightly meetings with her. So that could be anywhere between 200-400 pounds a month depending if its weekly or fortnightly.

That is a LOT of money.

Money neither me or my parents have right now.

However if i DO get my DLA (PIP) which currently I cannot do given the horrible letter my Psychiatrist gave me. Then I might get enough money from that to pay for my therapy.

But right now though I can self refer to this CBT therapy so that might be enough and might be all I need at this moment in time to help myself and unlock the tools i need to further my development and recovery.

So yes. I also really need to be on some form of anti psychotic or mood stabiliser as i am currently on a high dose anti depressant and my psychiatrist discharged me on this dose without warning really oh this is probably very dangerous and your risk of Bipolar relapse is VERY high.

So..yeah and here I am now. Although every meeting I actually had with her this year before discharging me I was in a Bipolar relapse. My GP when i got discharged and went to see him did make a comment on my moods there and then.

Something my psychiatrist either did not pick up on or did but chose to discharge me anyways because as she said to us in our final meeting that other people are waiting for this service we cant help you forever and ive got to learn to manage my conditions on my own and handle it on my own.

Which we get but if youve not given me tools to manage on my own im going in blind which is why i need therapy. To increase the tools in my toolkit to help myself.

That is like taking a persons walking stick away and saying youve got this problem with your leg but more people are in the queue behind you so you need to learn to manage this on your own and find out your own ways of coping but we arent gonna give you any tips or tools to help you good bye...and then expecting someone to know how to help themselves aka get a walking stick although its an obvious answer to get a walking stick so the analogy maybe doesnt work at that level but you get my point.

But I feel a lot less worse than i was yesterday. So I am not too bad right now given how yesterday went.

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pherryt · 6 years ago

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#8, 18, 31, and 41

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom?I was about to say Supernatural was my latest fandom, but it's just my biggest, most persevering fandom (My husband, btw, who first turned on netflix and said "Watch this. Yeah, I know you don't like horror. Watch it anyway. I promise you'll like it.")

so i think the correct answer would have to be Venom - and it's @feathers-and-cigarettes fault cause he talked up the movie so much I had to go watch it, and then i fell in love, and he's been spoon feeding me bits and pieces of the comic stuff here and there too

18. What ship have you written the most about?

probably destiel, to be honest. *does a quick check just for Shits and giggles*

Okay, so, out of my top 10 most used relationship tags on A03 - the top tag (Destiel) has 96 instances, and all the others combined come to 79.

Yeaaaaaah. Destiel it is.

31. What’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about your writing?

I can't possibly pull receipts right now - I wouldn't even know where to look. Some of have been for my writing in general, some have been for specific stories, some have been in comments, others reblogs, or even PMS

but I've had other writers tell me how well my dialogue flows, others tell me how strong a certain character voice is, and those are definitely heartening to hear.

I've had a few readers say something along the lines of "This was great! I just finished and I'm about to re-read it" which is mindboggling.

any time i see my fic rec'd i'm absolutely tickled pink.

i love the short and sweet comments, the in depth comments. the comments on a long fic that only come at the end because they were so engrossed they couldn't put it down, or the commenters who manage to somehow comment on every chapter - I find all those things so awesome.

41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:

I tend to start and finish stories in one sitting if I can - which is what makes reading longer fics more difficult for me. I love ‘em and I don’t want to put them down, even if i have to, so I actually LIKE reading WIPS because it helps me control myself. That means, my current reading list is full of WIPS:

manage me (i'm a mess) by technically_direct

Venom, symbrock, 17+ chapters, 76k+ words, Mature (Funny as hell!)

SummaryThe thing about Eddie, right, is that he's kinda an enormous fuckup. And it's starting to catch up to him a bit.

For real, the BEST thing to happen in those six months after he and Anne broke up was getting an alien parasite, and that was accounting for the whole 'it was eating his organs' thing.

Or Else by @jupiterjames

Supernatural, Destiel, sabriel, 15+ chapters, 78k+ words, Explicit (slow burn)

SummaryIn the years following his mother's death in a house fire, Dean Winchester begins to develop OCD as a way to cope with the loss. After more than a decade without a diagnosis, his symptoms grow more severe. And after the sudden death of John Winchester, Dean is left to cope by himself and Sam is forced to quit his undergrad in order to care for him. Ashamed of his shut-in life, and guilty that his little brother has become his caretaker at the expense of everything else, Dean seeks out therapy, and five years later, is holding down a full time job, can freely visit his favorite coffee shop to get a daily dose of Castiel, the (hot) hippie owner, and Sam is now free to return to school.

Sam Winchester would do anything for his brother, but he is more than thrilled to finally be returning to school, even if he is a 23 year-old sophomore. It also helps that a certain smart mouthed TA is helping him get back into the groove. Of course, getting a good read on Gabriel is just about as easy as advanced Chemistry, and he's not so great at that, either. As the semester goes on, he gets the distinct impression that his orderly life is about to get messy.

Crossing Lines by Hungrydean

Supernatural, Destiel, Saileen, 7+ chapters, 15k + words, Explicit

summaryHighly renowned therapist Dean Winchester knows how to help just about everyone. He's young yet experienced; the perfect blend of understanding his clients and knowing his job.

C. Novak is cheeky, bold, and obnoxious- but Dean does not shy away easily. Castiel Novak is a challenge, one Dean is determined to win. But Dean soon learns that Castiel is different from his other clients in more ways than he expected.

Pieced Together (part 2 of A Broken World) by mishaminion69 and sydkn3e

Supernatural, Destiel, Saileen, A/B/O, 15+ chapters, 154k+ words, Explicit

SummaryDean's equally exciting and terrifying news are forced to take a backseat for Castiel as he struggles to find the Omega ring for which his Omega's abuser was recruiting. While Cas is away, Dean grows closer to Eileen- also expecting her first pup- and her Alpha mate, Sam, which gives him insight into his foggy past and a glimpse into his future.

The increasing time apart proves difficult for both Dean and Castiel, leading way to feelings of inadequacy for Dean and discomfort in his rapidly changing body. Meanwhile, Cas fears that spending so much time in his wolf form while searching for the imprisoned Omegas will drain away his humanity...and ultimately lose him his mate.

Thursday's Angel by @unforth

Supernatural, Destiel, 14+ chapters, 65k + words, Explicit, Murder Husband

Summary:Castiel, angel of the Lord, is at peace with the mission assigned him by God almighty. His job - no, his purpose, the meaning of his existence - is to slay demons. He can see them, their eyes blackened by the evil they’ve done, their souls corrupted beyond hope of salvation, and when he finds one, he sends them to hell. Yes, the work is hard, the price to himself steep, but God has commanded it, and it’s better that Castiel bear the stain of murder than some poor mortal suffer because Castiel wasn’t strong enough to do what must be done.

And tonight’s demon - a murderer at least twice over, confirmed by Castiel's own eyes - is no different, no matter how fair his visage appears when not warped by sin.

Castiel will do his duty, as he always has, and when the deed is done - and no sooner - he’ll pray for the souls of the fallen, and for the forgiveness Castiel knows God will not - cannot - grant.

*Please see author's note for more information (this is dark but it's not as dark as it seems and I've added some explanatory information there)*

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rainbow-sides · 7 years ago

Text

Anomalies: Chapter Two

Summary: Anomalies is about different reactions to grief and how four brothers each respond to the death of their mother. The oldest brother, Roman, gets custody of the twins, Patton and Virgil, and the youngest brother, Logan, after their mother`s death. Virgil is also trying to navigate through a multitude of anxiety disorders, including OCD and trichotillomania, with the help of his brothers and his therapist, Dr. Picani. But meanwhile, Roman isn`t sure he can handle the responsibility of taking care of his brothers, Logan doesn`t process loss in a way most people can understand, and Patton isn`t nearly as okay as he seems…

Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, anxiety, panic attacks, passing out, obsessive thought spirals, fear of contamination/germs, intrusive thoughts that could probably be classified as body horror but it’s about illness/infection and it’s not graphic, trichotillomania, poor self image, guilt over the death of a loved one, OCD, some swearing, mentions of terminal illness, discussion of isolating oneself/cutting off contact with loved ones, agoraphobia, thoughts about death. For a list of the content warnings for the whole story as well as more information, please see this post. Please heed the warnings and stay safe.

Word Count: 4,239

Notes: Okay so this chapter and the next chapter are mostly a flashback and are about Virgil’s journey with trichotillomania and starting therapy, but it does pick up right where the last chapter left off with Virgil passed out on the floor of the hospital. I love you all, read the warnings and stay safe! <3 ~Martin

Masterpost to All Chapters

When he opened his eyes, he was lying on his side on cold tile floor. His head was in someone’s lap, and they were rubbing his back. For roughly two seconds, he couldn’t remember what had happened. Then he did, and it was like he was hearing it for the first time again. He let out a quiet sob. The hand on his back paused, then started stroking him again.

“Virgil?” Patton whispered. “Virgil, you awake?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil managed.

“You passed out,” his twin said. “It’s been eight minutes. Roman left you with me and went to...to take care of some things. Logan wouldn’t let go of him, so...it’s just you and me here.”

Virgil appreciated it. It was routine at this point for someone to give him the rundown of what had gone on while he was unconscious. It happened too often, so all of his brothers and a couple of his close friends knew what to do. But even though he didn’t get along with his twin all the time, Patton was the best at it. And he was also the only one who could consistently calm Virgil down from a panic attack before it got to the passing out stage. Plus, he never tried to make Virgil stand up or do anything afterwards. Somehow it was like he could tell exactly how exhausted the attacks left Virgil, how heavy they made his limbs feel. Virgil didn’t really believe in any of the crap about twins sharing a psychic connection, but sometimes it seemed like there might be something to it.

“It wasn’t a nightmare, then,” mumbled Virgil.

Patton inhaled sharply. “No,” he replied. He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I know.” Virgil tried to sit up, but could barely move. Patton shushed him and kept rubbing his back, making sure he didn’t try to get up again. “How...how is Logan holding up?” he asked after a minute.

“Oh...you know him. He hasn’t said a single word since...since Ro told him.” Patton’s voice quivered. “Or cried at all. He just sits there and holds Roman’s hand so tightly I’m scared he’s gonna break it.”

“Probably not done processing it yet,” Virgil sighed. The youngest of the four brothers, Logan, had a difficult time when it came to emotions. He had strange ways of dealing with it. When it was too much, he would go completely non-verbal, sometimes for days. The others had learned to accept it by now.

Patton made a small sound of agreement and then sniffed. He seemed to be holding back tears, and continued rubbing Virgil’s back almost fiercely, like he was trying to distract himself. His hands kneaded at Virgil’s black and purple hoodie. “We're going to be okay,” he whispered, more to himself than anything else. “We're going to be okay, so we are okay. We're going to be okay, so we are okay.”

Virgil didn't even bother trying to understand what he was talking about. He didn't get what Patton was saying half the time anyway, and the exhaustion and emotional shitstorm going on inside his head certainly didn't help. He would have started chewing on his thumbnail or picking at his eyelashes, but swirling thoughts about what might be living on the doorknobs and floors in a hospital stopped him from beginning the self-soothing behavior. Antibiotic-resistant deadly bacteria, super viruses that didn't give a shit about vaccinations...Virgil knew it was stupid and irrational, but lying there on the floor, he could feel them crawling into his eyes, into his mouth and down his throat, getting inside his cells and hijacking his DNA and multiplying until the infected cells lysed and released the infectious contents all over the nearby cells. His body might be starting to die already if the pathogens were present, and he would have no way of knowing.

“Help me sit up,” he asked hoarsely.

Patton broke off his soft chanting about being okay. “Yeah, sure thing. Come here, Virge. You need something?”

I need to wash my hands and my face and my mouth, Virgil thought, but he couldn't let himself do that right now. He tried not to let himself think it, but the thoughts came unbidden anyway, like they always did. I deserve it for not being here. I deserve the pain of not doing it.

“Virgil?” Patton prompted. He was holding Virgil upright in a sitting position. “Talk to me.”

“It's nothing,” Virgil muttered.

“I know what ‘nothing’ is, and none of what's happening right now can be classified as ‘nothing’,” Patton said.

“I don't want to talk about it yet.”

“That's different. I can accept that.” Patton put his head down on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil’s thoughts were still spinning around and around. Some of them might be airborne, he thought. I could still be breathing them in right now. I have to stop breathing. I have to-- He buried his face into his elbow to breathe through his sleeve. He knew that it wouldn't really protect him, but it made his fears ease slightly, and he didn't want to pass out again, so he allowed himself the one small ritual.

Patton let out a sigh. “Virgil,” he murmured. “I know I can't understand completely, but please--"

“Leave me alone,” Virgil snapped, muffled against his sweatshirt.

“Can't do that.”

“Please!”

“Virgil! You've got to--I need you, too, Virgil, I need you right now, you can't tell me to leave you alone when we're sitting on the floor of a hospital because our mother just died,” Patton said with a catch in his voice that quickly turned to sobs.

Tears were flowing down Virgil’s cheeks as well. He opened his arms and Patton fell into them. Virgil sat back against the wall and held Patton to his chest, burying his face into his twin’s hair. It smelled like the shampoo they both used, and the crisp, clean scent managed to drive away his fear of infection for a little while.

The two of them were identical, but nobody who knew them would have a hard time identifying who was who because the way they altered their appearances was completely different. Virgil straightened his hair and had it dyed dark purple--Patton’s was encouraged to be more curly with some sort of hair gel, and was left its natural light brown color. Also, the only makeup Patton wore was to cover up a red scar on his jawline where he had stood on his tiptoe and put his chin onto the edge of the stove when he was eight, trying to see what their mother was cooking, but forgetting that the edge of the other coil burner was still hot. He didn't like having to explain the large burn scar after some of his friends had laughed at him for being stupid enough to do that. Virgil, meanwhile, wore pretty heavy foundation and dark eyeshadow, eyebrow pencil, and eyeliner, mostly to distract people from the fact that he didn't have many eyelashes or eyebrow hairs left. Currently, the makeup was smeared halfway down his cheeks from his tears.

The twins had never let their mother dress them alike, even as very young kids. Virgil wouldn't wear anything with bright colors, and Patton didn't like dark clothes. They were pretty much complete opposites in behavior, too. Virgil was anxious and cautious, snarky towards authority even though he was terrified of being punished for it. His OCD and particularly his trichotillomania had caused him to isolate himself for most of his life--even Patton hadn't known about the trich until everyone else found out a couple years ago. As sweet and empathetic as Patton was, he could also be pretty oblivious. Or maybe Virgil was just really good at hiding.

Either way, it had caused a rift between them. They had been so close when they were little, almost never fighting. But when Virgil had begun developing his disorders sometime in the middle of elementary school, he had become so terrified that something was wrong with him that he had pushed everyone away. Including Patton. And Patton had been so hurt by the sudden distance between them. He didn't understand, of course. How could he? It wasn't like Virgil had explained it. He wouldn't have had the words to explain if he had tried.

Things only began to improve between them a couple of years ago, when Virgil hadn't been able to hide his nearly completely bare eyelashes anymore and Roman had made a remark about them at the dinner table. Virgil had fled in a panic to his room and locked the door behind him. Their mother had come to talk to him in a few minutes, giving him enough time to calm down a little. After asking him about what had been going on with him, she had realized that he really needed to see a therapist. That he probably should have been seeing one for years. She had tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead, assuring him that there was nothing wrong with him. Eyes tired from crying, Virgil was about to go to sleep when his twin crept into the room.

“Virgil?” Patton had whispered. “Are you awake?”

Instinctively, Virgil turned his head away. He hadn't let people look directly at his face for years in fear that they might notice it. Even though he was aware that the others knew now, it was still a habit.

Patton sat down on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Virgil mumbled in response.

Patton was silent for a few minutes, tugging at his shirt collar as he tried to think of something to say. “Is...is this why you hide so often?” he asked finally. “And why you don't hang out with us anymore?”

“Kinda.”

“Oh.” Patton paused again. “I'm sorry, if...if I made you feel like you couldn't, like, talk to me anymore. I didn't mean to--"

“It wasn't you,” Virgil said quickly. “It was just me. I didn't talk to anyone.”

“But you should have been able to talk to me,” insisted Patton. “We're supposed to be able to share everything.”

“I'm sorry,” Virgil said softly. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Patton shifted on the bed as he reached into his pocket. “I brought you something,” he said, and grabbed Virgil’s hand to press a strange object into it. “Logan wanted to give you one of his koosh-balls, but he was worried that he would make you mad if he came to talk to you. He thought it might...help.”

Virgil sat up and stared at the many-stranded toy in his palm. It was bright blue and purple, and the stiff rubber strings made a nice texture on his skin. He rolled it around his fingers carefully. He had seen Logan playing with it before, along with his many other fidget toys, and had often kind of wished that he had something similar to occupy his hands. But he didn't want to take one, because Logan would definitely notice and would definitely be upset, and he didn't want to ask for one because he would have to explain why he wanted it. And now Logan was giving him one.

He started to cry.

“No, no, don't cry!” Patton exclaimed. “No, what did I say? I'm sorry, don't cry!”

“It's okay,” Virgil said. “You didn't say anything, it's fine. I'm just…” He made a vague gesture and wiped his eyes. “I'm just tired.”

“I should let you sleep, then,” Patton said, and started to stand up.

“No, wait,” Virgil exclaimed, reaching out and grabbed Patton’s hand. “Stay for a little while?”

Immediately, Patton sat back down. “Really?” he asked. He sounded like he couldn’t believe that Virgil wanted him to stay.

“I'm sorry,” Virgil said. “I'm sorry, I should have talked to you, about any of this, this stupid…” He poked roughly at his eyebrow. “Stupid fucking...I hate it, I fucking hate it, that I can't just make myself fucking stop, and--"

“Okay, first, stop swearing,” Patton scolded.

Virgil laughed and wiped his eyes. “Let me express myself, Pat.”

“There are better words to use to express yourself! I personally prefer using the names of ice cream flavors. Much better opportunities for puns as well.” Patton grinned. “I guess it's been a pretty rocky road for you to get to the point where you're ready to talk to me about this.”

“Oh, god,” Virgil groaned. “Screw you for making me laugh, Pat, I'm trying to share my deep dark secrets.”

“Why cookie dough-n’t you go ahead, then?” Patton invited. He squeaked a couple seconds later as Virgil poked him in the stomach. “Hey!”

“Stop making puns!”

“Never!” Patton giggled. He squeaked again and fell backwards while Virgil kept poking him. “You can't make me stop my puns! They're part of my ice-dentity!”

“Now, see, that one was just disappointing,” Virgil informed him, continuing to prod at Patton’s stomach and sides.

“Well, you can't expect me to come up with something better while you're tickling me!” Patton whined. “Stop it!”

Virgil backed off. “Are you gonna let me talk now? I'm really trying here.”

“I know, I was just trying to lighten the mood.” Patton adjusted his shirt with a pout. “And I am...strawberry upset at you for tickling me.”

“See, this is why I don't talk to you about serious things,” Virgil muttered, flopping down onto the bed to lie shoulder to shoulder with his twin. The way they had ended up, their heads were at the foot of the bed.

Patton suddenly looked genuinely upset. “Really? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

“No,” sighed Virgil. “No, no, no, shut up, I didn’t mean it like that. Your stupid puns aren’t why I didn’t fucking tell you about things.”

“D--”

“If you try to tell me off for cursing again, I swear to god I will keep tickling you and I won’t stop until you can’t breathe,” Virgil informed him.

“Hmph.” Patton laced his fingers through Virgil’s and squeezed gently. “Alright, fine. Serious time. I’ll be as serious as Logan in his goofy little necktie, and you can tell me as much or as little as you want. No more teasing.”

Virgil could tell that he was being honest. Patton could occasionally calm down and be serious, and a very particular tone in his voice gave him away. Staring up at the ceiling because he wasn’t comfortable looking at Patton while he spoke, Virgil said, “I don’t remember exactly when it started. The whole...pulling, thing.”

“Logan told me there’s a word for it,” Patton said softly. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“I…” Virgil was at a loss for what to say. “There’s...a word for it?”

“Uh-huh. Logan looked it up in one of those psychology manual things he borrowed from the library last week.”

“What a weird eleven-year old,” Virgil scoffed. “It’s not me who looks it up, or our mother, it’s our baby brother. And he doesn’t even Google it, he has a damn book for it. Of course he does.”

“Hey, we love him,” Patton reproached. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean, and yeah, I love him. Doesn’t mean he’s not a weird kid.” Virgil paused. “What...what’s the word?” He was almost nervous. It had just been a strange, undefined thing that was wrong with him for half his life. Knowing its name was a daunting prospect.

“It’s called trich--um, hold on. Trich-o-till-o-mania,” Patton said slowly.

“That’s a long fucking word,” Virgil said flatly. Inside, he was reeling. There was a word for it. That must mean that more people did it. That must mean he wasn’t entirely alone.

As if he had read Virgil’s mind, Patton said, “Apparently close to one out of every hundred people is affected by it at some point in their life. It’s usually really little kids, but if it goes on for a long time, it gets harder and harder to stop it.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. His voice shook a little. “Okay.”

Patton continued, “Logan read out to us that in older kids or people who have lived with it for a long time, it can really start hurting their self-image. Sometimes it gets to the point of a--agraphobia, or something like that.”

“Agoraphobia,” Virgil corrected automatically.

“Yeah, that one. And they’re afraid of being looked at by other people, so they isolate themselves, and it negatively impacts their relationships. Seems like that’s pretty common. They learn to hide, even from the people they’re closest to, because they feel alone. Like something is wrong with them that they might get judged for, as opposed to a disorder that’s completely out of their control,” Patton said, very gently. “Sometimes it goes on for years.”

Virgil tried not to, but he was starting to cry silently. Patton wasn’t looking directly at him, so he didn’t notice. Every word that Patton said hit him hard, right in his chest. He squeezed Patton’s hand. “Pat--” He couldn’t even get the full word out before letting out a sob.

Startled, Patton rolled onto his side to look at him. “Virge? Oh! Oh, no, that’s not what I meant to do, oh, no...”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said through his tears. “It’s just--it’s so much, and a couple hours ago I was--that, and now you’re saying it out loud, and I just, I can’t deal with it right now, I know what you’re trying to do, I appreciate it, I just...please? I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, Virgil, you don’t have anything to apologize for. Oh, please don’t cry, please, it’s alright, I’m here.” Patton sat up, pulling Virgil with him. “Shh, Virgil, it’s okay.”

“I’m so tired,” Virgil whimpered. “I can’t deal with this right now, I can’t--” He was breathing too quickly.

“No, no, no, shhh, shhh,” Patton soothed. “I know you’re tired, I know. Let’s get you to sleep, okay? That’s what we should do right now, we can talk tomorrow. I shouldn’t have pushed you. Come here, let’s get you up here.” He guided Virgil up to the head of the bed and put a pillow in his lap. “Hug this for a minute, okay? I’m gonna get you some pajamas. Mom might not have made you change before bed, but I’m not gonna let you sleep in skinny jeans. That can’t be comfy, Virge.”

Virgil tried to laugh, but it came out as another sob as he pressed his face into the pillow. “Okay.”

“You keep hugging that pillow, and don’t let go until I’m back,” Patton instructed. “‘Cause then you can have me to hug, and I’m a whole lot better than a pillow. Plus, I hug back.” He headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Virgil asked. “My dresser is right there.”

“Your pajamas are t-shirts and sweatpants. Right now, you need something a lot softer and a lot more cuddly. I’ll be right back!” Patton promised.

Virgil rolled his eyes and sniffed. His tears were making dark spots on the purple pillow, but he had to admit, it did make him feel better to be hugging it.

Patton returned a couple minutes later, wearing fleece pajama pants and a soft shirt with some dogs on it. His pajamas were mostly designed for younger kids, but they made him happy, so nobody dared to tease him about it. He closed the door mostly, not quite latching it, and walked over to the bed. In his arms were another pair of fuzzy pants and a grey mass of fabric that Virgil recognized as Patton’s beloved cat hoodie, which Logan had given him for Christmas a couple years ago. It had little ears on the hood and everything. When Patton had first got it, there had been a solid month or so where he had refused to wear anything else. “Put these on,” Patton told him. “You’ll feel a lot better, I promise.”

Muttering to himself about how it was silly but not really protesting, Virgil got into the pajamas. They were a little too brightly colored for his taste, but they were soft and warm and comforting. Patton had slipped out of the room for a second and came back with a wet washcloth. He sat down cross-legged on the bed and waited for Virgil to come back and join him.

“I know you've got some makeup on,” Patton said. “You don't have to, but if you want to, you can wash it off.”

Virgil trembled a little. “Pat, I...I haven't taken off the eyebrow stuff around anyone else for as long as I can remember,” he admitted. “I stole a pencil from Mom in fourth grade and I've been using Roman’s stuff for years and I haven't--

“Like I said, you don't have to. But, I mean...it's just me here. I think it might even help.” Patton handed him the damp washcloth. “Up to you.”

“I...okay,” Virgil whispered. He turned away and scrubbed at his face to get all of the makeup off. His hands were shaking and he seriously considered just running away and locking himself in the bathroom instead of turning around and letting Patton see. All the words that he heard when he looked at himself in the mirror and saw his patchy, nearly non-existent eyebrows were flying around his head. Freakish. Gross. Inhuman. Weird. He tossed the damp cloth onto a plastic school binder on his desk and turned around.

Patton’s face was impassive as he gazed at his twin. “Come here,” he said, and patted the bed in front of him.

Virgil came over and sat down, still shivering. He could barely look Patton in the eyes, forcing back tears as he tried desperately not to turn his face away and hide.

After a minute, Patton reached out and put his hands on either side of Virgil’s face, pulling him closer so he could kiss his forehead. “I'm really proud of you,” he whispered.

That did it. Virgil burst into tears and fell forward into his brother's arms. “You don't think I look horrible and--and weird, and bad?” he asked.

“No, Virge. You look brave. Shhh, I've gotcha. It's okay, it's alright.” Patton hugged him tightly. “Shhh, it's okay.”

The door creaked open slightly. “Everything alright in here?” their mom asked. Logan was pressed to her side.

“Everything's fine, mama,” Patton said. “I've got him. He'll be okay.”

“I believe you, sweetheart. Make sure you get to bed soon,” she said. “I love you both so much.”

“Love you,” Virgil managed to say with his face hidden in Patton’s shoulder.

“Love you, mama. Goodnight! And goodnight, Lo,” Patton added.

“Sleep well,” responded the eleven-year-old. “Did Virgil like the ball?”

“I love it,” Virgil told him, still crying. Without looking up, he held up his hand where he still had the koosh-ball clutched in his fingers.

“Good,” Logan said, and that was that.

The door closed quietly and the lights were flicked off. As Logan and their mom walked down the hallway, Virgil could hear her say softly, “See? It was a good idea, baby.”

“He was crying,” Logan replied.

“Not because he didn't like it.”

“I don't understand, but I believe you.”

Virgil sniffed. “He's so sweet,” he mumbled. “Even though he doesn't really get most of it.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, Mom is right. It's time for bed. You want to lie down?” Patton suggested.

Virgil was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. But he didn't want Patton to go back to his own room and leave him all alone, so he clung tighter and let himself keep crying.

“Shhh,” Patton murmured. “Oh, Virge. Oh, you're gonna wear yourself out so bad. Shhh, shhh.” He stroked Virgil’s back softly, which shook with every breath as he sobbed. “Talk to me, how can I help?”

“I just...don't want you to leave,” Virgil told him. He hadn't meant to say it out loud.

“Wasn't planning on leaving. Aren't we having a sleepover? I thought that was obvious.” Patton ruffled his twin’s hair with a little laugh. “Silly. As if I'd leave you alone at a time like this.”

Unable to verbally express how relieved he was, Virgil settled for just slowing down his sobs until he was barely even crying anymore. Patton let him lie down with his head on the pillow and pulled the blankets around until he found a comfortable position for himself. Then he tugged the blankets up around both of their shoulders and wrapped his arms around Virgil like he was holding a teddy bear while Virgil got rid of a few lingering sobs.

“I've got you,” Patton said in an almost sing-song voice. “I've got you, don't worry, you're gonna be okay. I'm here, don't be scared, everything's okay.”

Virgil closed his eyes and nestled closer to his twin. He had almost forgotten how nice it was to cuddle with him like this. They hadn't done it in years because of Virgil pushing him away and also because at 14, they would probably be laughed at for still cuddling with each other. “Love you, Patton,” he breathed.

“Love you, too, Virge. Now go to sleep,” Patton insisted, pressing a kiss to the side of Virgil’s head.

Feeling more comfortable in his own skin than he had in ages, Virgil actually managed to fall asleep.

See what I meant when I said that this story is really dark but also has plenty of fluff? I’m the biggest sucker for hurt/comfort and I absolutely love any form of Moxiety. The puns are fun to write, too.

So about trich. I’ve dealt with trichotillomania for pretty much as long as I can remember, and I’ve never really been brave enough to write about it before this. Like Virgil, I spent most of my life not knowing what it was or that I wasn’t alone. Unlike Virgil, I didn’t have quite as supportive of an experience figuring it out, so I guess in a lot of ways this part of the story is me projecting and writing what I wish had happened. I don’t know. Is this too personal? Probably!

But hey, if by some chance there’s someone reading this who identifies with anything I wrote in this chapter, or if I gave you words for something you didn’t even know you needed (I’m positive that there are people reading this who are younger than I was when I learned what the word was), please come talk to me! I’m here for you and I want to help support you. I don’t want anyone to have to go through this alone.

If you haven’t read it yet, check out my completed story Sunshine and Foils! I’ve finally made the masterpost for it, so that’s cool. If you want to be on the taglist for this story, just let me know! Have a fantastic week and a fantastic April, my friends. Stay safe, I love you! <3 ~Martin

@i-will-physically-fight-you @alextheodd @a-lexicon-of-words @cinderlunarcyborg @justamassivenerd @quietdeerfan @haikyuupaladin @anonymous-at-midnight @toriwithacamera @k9cat @anuninspiredpoet @afilhadehades-blog @logicallyanxious-morallyromantic @akiraaria @drunken-ghost @hanramz-the-fander @callboxkat @blubblubfish @spectacled-renegade @anuninspiredpoet @amemberofanotherfandom

#sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #trichotillomania #anomalies #my writing

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mychaoticdiary · 4 years ago

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January, 7th, 2021

Dear Diary,

Another day, another edible and I’m very tired so I don’t know how accurate I’ll be but future me you better be thankful, you fuck. When I’m woken up I can’t remember what day it is, what’s happening and I’m reminded. Today’s the day we surrender Cali. I wish I never woke up. There’s about an hour before it happens and she’ll be gone out of our lives forever...I don’t cry but I certainly can’t be soothed. Cali is walking around and I stop to pat her for a few minutes, I don’t think she’ll remember me in a few days but today is gonna be hard for her too and I just wanna give her all the love she allows me too. We put her in the cage and start driving, she’s silent the entire time, no crying like my other cat. I put my fingers through the cage door to try and bring her comfort even if she’s not meowing she might still be scared. We arrive, we can’t find their number so mom goes up to the front. It takes a while for things to get done. There’s a woman walking one of the dogs around, he’s some sort of shaggy mutt, he’s very cute and looks incredibly friendly as he walks by and I just try to remind myself that maybe he came here like my sweet senior girl and they helped him to become a healthy happy dog again. I have to believe that. Suddenly it’s all happening at once, I get out of the car and drop off the cage, because of Covid they’ll take her in and put her in a room and then bring back the cage...the goodbye feels so quick. The air out here smells awful like sulfur. It’s in the middle of factory land because it’s cheap here but the smell of rotten eggs is so bad it hurts my asthma or maybe that was my approaching panic attack. I couldn’t tell you. We get in the car and pull away...my mom is silent, she can’t talk or she’s afraid she’ll cry. I try to hold back my tears for her sake, I point out dumb things like: That’s a nice yellow car, that’s a nice house, what an ugly dude in that car, can you believe that idiot driver? Eventually it works, we’re both talking as we got on a long drive. It’s a nice drive, a couple of hours, it helps both our heads. I keep playing Melancholy Kaleidoscope by All Time Low over and over it’s just a song that seems to soothe me right now, my mom doesn’t mind. When we get back we decide to clean under the bed where my sweet senior girl liked to spend a lot of her time. It’s filthy, there’s so much stuff underneath here that we’ve kept for years. We throw out almost all of it and deep clean the floors, it feels good to be productive. My mom leaves so I can have some privacy for my therapy appointment, eventually she calls and I almost wish I was as emotionally distraught as I have been all week as I tell her everything that’s happened but I feel like I’ve hit a wall. I almost feel robbed of my emotions at the moment, I know I have them but someone inside is holding them hostage and won’t let me talk to them. My therapist mainly lets out soft ‘yeahs’ a lot, she mainly listens, offering sparing advice here or there, she validates how I feel and tries to expand on my emotions for me. She says I should check out The Artist Way by Julia Cameron and Why We Sleep by Mathew Walker, she often gives me books to read and I mean too read them but I haven’t read any yet. Maybe this year I will, maybe this year I won’t, I’m not sure. I tell her about my audio hallucinations and ask if she knows where I should go to help with that, she points me in the right direction but I know she has to be careful with her words for legal reasons. When we finish the phone call I find my mom outside cleaning out the back of the van, I help her finish. We come inside and I decide it’s time to put together the shelf we’ve had for nearly 3 years now as it’s the only thing left under her bed and so we do. We’re proud and I decide there’s no time like the present to fill it. I go to the next daunting task: cleaning out our massive collection of DVD’s. I don’t have OCD but I like my movies to be organized by genre and series. It takes me 2 hours to do but I manage to whittle down our collection to fit on the shelf and I feel very proud, my mom is too. We throw everything we don’t need out. Now there’s nothing to do and to spite the fact my body is tired my mind is restless, it’s still restless. I pace in the house going back and forth between my room and my moms, not really saying much but saying something every time I go into the room. I decide to get the DVD player for her going too, might as well right? It’s what she’s currently watching and I feel good that she can just relax with some movies now. And here we are. I popped an edible before this post about an hour ago and it’s taken it’s effect enough. My sweet girl is laying down beside me after a big play time, she’s eaten 5 tablespoons of food today and gone to the bathroom. I’m happy she’s okay and just hope things will stay that way. I know to spite the fact it’s not a mental choice my mind has done distraction after distraction in reaction of what’s happened today. The emotions of surrendering my sweet senior girl have not yet fully hit me and I know it...I’m scared for when it will but I know I can’t run from grief, I must simply let it happen. My friend’s have messaged me online but all day I just haven’t been able to open any of it, I know I should, I don’t want them to feel like I’m abandoning them but I just don’t think I could take a single ‘sorry’ right now. I’ll have to get back to them tomorrow and just hope they understand. It’s early but I’m heading to bed after writing this or if I’m honest probably in an hour. I don’t have the mental capacity at the moment to check this for grammar and mistakes so figure it out future me.

#diary #diary entry #my diary #January 2021

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askmadampresident · 7 years ago

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((This is a mild PSA about some recent drama, If you’re honestly sick of it, trying to avoid it or don’t want to hear it go ahead and skim right by this, otherwise I personally don’t want to just ignore this, but after this post, this ask blog shall move on resume as usual, continuing with the latest M!A with Prez getting slapped for every stupid idea :3))

((for those wanting to read on it’s all under the cut, and all of it is ooc))

I’m going to be honest. I’ve thought about this for awhile and I legitimately do not know how to phrase this no matter how much I think about it so, I’m just going to ramble and share my thoughts and hopefully not offend anyone.

Alright, heeere we go, moment of truth, moment I’ve been dreading for two days

alright for those of you going what the hell lemme give you a breif rundown of the situation: As brief as I can put it, this recent thread sparked quite a bit of controversy in the discord under the accusations (none of which I deny, let me make this clear) of unnecessary angst and lack of proper tagging.

I don’t know why but my brain is going into speech and debate mode so I guess i’m formatting this like an LD round argument now, but essentially I’m going to go over my defense, the counterarguments against my defense, and finally a summary to conclude

welp defense time. In my defense, I’ll address unnecessary angst first and foremost, while I do admit that thread was going overboard the way I RP is I am given a situation, or some sort of stimulus essentially, be that an ask, a thread, an M!A, an IM, etc, and what I do is I react as the character to said stimulus. The argument can also be made that I did not need to reply to said thread, that at the sight of it going overboard I could have stopped, BUT you see, the thing is I honestly can’t not reply. I have 4 prominent mental disorders, one of which being OCD, which I was very recently diagnosed with. Whenever there is a thread or a message or something and it doesn’t feel complete and it’s my turn to respond, I HAVE to respond, otherwise it can sometimes bother me for weeks on end. I don’t mean to use my mental disorder as an excuse, since that is just honestly a dick move and because either way I am still at fault, I still made the choice, even if my mental disorder caused my decision to lean toward one side more so than another. The argument could also be made that I did not have to write out that scenario and that I could have had Prez do something else, but you see, doing that would actually bother me more than not replying. Because it really, really rEALLY bothers me when I don’t play a character as accurately as I can, and it just feels so ooc and I just cannot stand that feeling at all, so I suppose yeah I made my decisions, and yeah, in retrospect they were wrong, but I honestly wouldn’t have done anything different now because it would really bother me, call me selfish, but that is how I feel.

Okay I’m just re reading this and whoops looks like I’m doing the counterarguments on the way oh well, it works

As for lack of tagging… I have no excuse, I completely forgot and that’s all there is to it. I mean I have the classic defense of “You could’ve just not read it” But that’s just dickish and shifting the blame on others which I will NOT do after a lot of people have thrown blame around ann it just… it disgusts me, all are at fault in an argument, it’s not just ever one person and if you disagree with me on that then please do not talk to me. We will never see things eye to eye if that is the case, and I would rather not have all that conflict in my life. Anyway, that defense is really just rude and I do not have any excuse to defend myself with so yeah I just outright forgot and I apologize. In the coming days I’ll be getting to work trying to tag what I can but please if you want me to tag you triggers please tell me what they are so I can tag them, otherwise I honestly won’t know.

On that topic please allow me to at least explain why I space about triggers since I believe everyone at least deserves the chance to see a story from both sides, but if you don’t want to hear it just skip over the next paragraph.

I’ve got two things here to address, my lack of triggers and my accidental habit of spacing about tagging things. As for my unfortunate habit, remember how I said I had 4 prominent mental disorders? One of which is bipolarity. I’m currently having a passive manic episode, and for those who aren’t familiar, having bipolar means having episodes of mania or depression that can last months on end, it’s not just a thing that happens and is gone in a day or two. As for why it’s important that I’m in a manic episode, for me this manifests on inability to focus on one thing at once, I have to be doing 10 things at a time or I can’t focus and get extremely bored extremely quickly and make extremely stupid and impulsive decisions, essentially I cope by doing too much at once, and unfortunately, that translates to me missing small details and sometimes large ones, and in this case that translates to forgetting to tag things, then remembering I forgot later, only to get completely distracted before I can, repeat. Then my lack of triggers… yeah this is ‘fun’, and well my manic episodes also come with minor suppression of empathy, so I at the moment cannot understand people who get triggered easily (in my depressive episodes I understand all too well and it affects me greatly then, but during a manic episode all that empathy boils down into sympathy which is something else and not completely synonymous with empathy, especially when talking in psychological terms) as well as a second factor here which is that a third mental disorder I have is severe anxiety. What does that have to do with it? Well you see I’m extremely strong willed by nature and well over the years I got reprimanded so often that I wound up sealing myself off, I made it so that nothing got to me that way I wouldn’t be anxious anymore, and as such the lack of triggers, or at least that’s the theory my therapist has. Nonetheless there are a few things that still make me breakdown in terrible panic attacks, where I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t anything and I get violent if anyone tries to touch me. Such an attack nearly occurred when this discourse initially started, due to one of those few things being reprimanded by not one but many people I respect. I spent the next two days off of social media and trying to not fall apart, and only just succeeding.

AGAIN the fact that I have mental disorders in NOT to me a valid excuse for my actions! I still chose to do it and I accept full responsibility for any pain I’ve unintentionally inflicted, and I hope to do all I can to prevent it next time. If there is a next time, I do hope not.

All in all, I’ve spent two of my evening writing this, part of me being angry and upset about how this went down and because of the respect that I have now lost for some of the people whom were involved, part of me wishing preventative measures had been taken such as alerting us that we were going wrong beforehand or getting on our case about taggs early on, and part of me, the logical part, is jut ready for this to be over, but also knows that if I don’t publicly address it I’m pretty much digging my own grave, and seeming like I do not care or am a coward for not getting to this, of which I am NOT.

I thank those of you whom have read this far and listened to my little unorthodox part apology part summary part rant, because honestly it means a lot that you’re putting the time in to look at something as long as this since I believe that everyone should be allowed to know the full story before continuing on.

Well that and the fact that this is literally the blog of the biggest politician in gloomverse I’m surprised people actually care so much about it.

So thank you once again, get ready for more content momentarily~!

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psychotherapyconsultants · 6 years ago

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Anti-Aging Psychotherapy: Dr. Ellen Langer Versus Your Green Smoothie

The anti-aging movement is taking off at warp speed. Many people are willing to do whatever it takes to live longer, better, or both. Take me. I often start my day off with a green drink. No, I'm not talking about mixing a few avocado slices with a cucumber in a blender. No way. I'm a serious player! I'm talking about ingesting a serious organic product with nearly 100 superfoods. Yep, I said 100. I want something that packs a punch. But wait, I'm just getting warmed up. I'll often chase it with a liquid supplement sporting well over 230 other superfoods (I'm up to over 300 for those of you with a touch of OCD). I might also swallow a teaspoon of bee pollen, a whole food multivitamin, and a supplement packed with nearly 50 fruits and veggies, just for nutritional insurance.

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Since this won't fill me up, and my behavior is anything but consistent from day to day, I will often wolf down something healthy like an apple, or more likely, a food source theoretically not so healthy, such as a can of commercial soup loaded with enough sodium to keep the average NFL team bloated until Super Bowl Sunday. You might ask, "Well do you really feel like a million bucks on this regimen?" (I was hoping you wouldn't ask.) Um, truthfully, no, not really. Some research on superfoods and antioxidants has not demonstrated longevity benefits in animals and on occasion has shortened their lives! Moreover, experts don't agree on what constitutes a superfood and what doesn’t. Take coffee and caffeine. One day the news reports they are poison, while the very next day you will hear that nothing matches their nutritional benefits. It's enough to make a therapist see a therapist! Ditto for diets. One expert advocates a plant-based diet while another castigates you for consuming an apple loaded with sugar and recommends near zero carb lifestyle. The only remedy we know of that is almost guaranteed to extend our lives is caloric restriction, aka nearly starving yourself—and who wants to do that for the next 50 plus years? And just for the record, even some of the zealots in this arena are now backing off and claiming calorie restriction is not turning out to be the panacea we thought it was. Okay great. So now what? Well, what if we are all barking up the wrong tree? Enter Harvard psychologist of mindfulness fame, Ellen Langer. What if anti-aging is mainly psychological? In her landmark book Counter Clockwise: Mindful Health and the Power of Possibility, Dr. Langer shares a study she performed in 1981 that was a total game changer. She and her colleagues took men in their seventies and eighties to a monastery in New Hampshire. The monastery was set up as if it was 1959 or 22 years earlier. The books, radio programs, television shows, and newspapers were from the 1950s. One group of men was instructed to embrace the present moment but reminisce about the era. The other group was told to pretend they actually were 22 years younger and to act as if it was actually 1959 once again. Hence, if a man was currently retired, but owned an auto repair shop in 1959, he was instructed to act and talk as if he owns the auto repair facility in the present; which again is 1959. The results were spectacular. Although both groups of men made some anti-aging progress, the group who imagined they were younger, and acted as if it was the 50s again, made tremendous progress and literally seemed to age backward. Biomarkers of aging including strength, flexibility, vision, hearing, and cognitive abilities improved in just five days! They even looked younger. Langer reports that a group of the men gave up their canes and she was playing touch football with them by the end of their stay. Show me a green drink that can instill that kind of change and I'll say, "I'll have whatever he is drinking." Yes, there were minor criticisms of the study such as the fact that the results were illuminated in her book rather than published in a professional journal and no women were part of the study. Nevertheless, the quintessential question seems to be whether psychotherapists are the real anti-aging specialists. Could we become the premier movers and shakers in the quest for longevity? Should we be attempting to instill an anti-aging mindset in willing clients? Perhaps therapists ought to be at the forefront of the movement using cognitive therapy, hypnosis, guided imagery, mindfulness, and a host of related techniques to roll back the clock. Even Dr. Langer is purportedly contemplating counterclockwise rejuvenation clinics. Should we trade in our green drinks and cupboards overflowing with vitamins, minerals, enzymes, telomere boosters, workout schedules and the next breakthrough for sessions of creative visualization from the Bill Clinton era? We can lead the charge by decorating our offices with a 1996 ambiance. When the client strolls in Adam Sandler will be on the television showcasing a key scene from the 80s classic movie “Happy Gilmore”. Everything will go great until your 11-year-old client asks, "Why is that man on television running toward the golf ball?" You can glance at his mother and respond with, "Here, have a piece of candy, dark chocolate is a superfood." Yeah right. At least for this week! from http://www.psychotherapy.net/blog/title/anti-aging-psychotherapy-dr.-ellen-langer-versus-your-green-smoothie

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