#i ran out of my meds before my next psych appointment and it turns out they were working better than i thought they were

[skywalker42]

What people think ADHD is:

So I went to my room to grab sticky notes to leave my roommate a reminder on the dryer but then I saw my week old mug on my nightstand so I went to put it away and then when I was in the kitchen I realized there's no room for it in the cabinet and now I'm measuring the wall for shelving units.

Which, yeah, it is that. It's definitely that. But it's also this series of texts I sent to my friend this morning:

[henrycavell]

homecoming part 2

summary: Syverson has been medically discharged from the army after a suicide attempt. He’d been able to hide his deteriorating mental health for years from the men around him, but now he has to face it head on. Hopefully not alone.

word count: 1,899

pairing: Syverson x OFC warnings: none

authors note: this is another slow/kind of boring chapter!! sorry, i don’t want to make these chapters very long because i know when i read fanfics i prefer shorter chapters soooo, but i promise next chapter is gonna be sad and probably hurt your feelings <3

taglist;  @littlefreya​ @mary-ann84​ @wondersofdreaming​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @geralt-of-baevia​ @asylummara​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @promptandpros​ @mansaaay​ @daddys-littlewhitegirl​ @vacant-writings​ ​ @80scavill​ @kaatelyyynn

PART 1 | PART 2

So the first meeting with Syverson could've gone better. Penelope had better first impressions with Aika than the with the former captain, but she was determined to turn things around. Returning to his home the next weekend, Penelope knocked before letting herself in, multiple grocery bags hanging from her arms. "Hey!" Her voice echoed quietly in the hall, the only response she was given besides the sound of Aika's nails hitting the wooden floors as she came running down the stairs. Making a mental note to schedule her an appointment with the groomers', Penelope brought the groceries into the kitchen, setting them down on the table. 

Syverson's pick-up hadn't been in the drive today, but Penelope didn't think on it too much. Beginning to take the groceries out of the first bag, Aika went running up to the back door, placing her paw up near the door knob and whining. "Need out, girl?" Penelope asked, setting down the coffee she held in her hands. Before letting Aika run free in the backyard, Penelope checked to make sure the gate was secure and then disappeared back inside to continue putting up all the groceries she'd bought. Every few minutes, Penelope would raise her head to look out the window to make sure Aika was still in sight. She couldn't help but feel on edge, she was still in a complete stranger's home and it was even worse when she knew he was out. 

Her gaze moved around the kitchen, noticing a thin layer of dust on the window sills and in the back edges of the counters. The floors looked like they could've used a decent mopping and there was a small pile of dishes in the sink too. Checking on Aika once more, Penelope moved to open the back door and decided to leave it open, allowing the dog to decide when she wanted to come back in. Placing her phone on the kitchen table, Penelope played her favorite band as she moved around the kitchen, starting with wiping down the counters and sweeping, before making her way to other rooms in the house. 

♫ We get colder As we grow older We will walk So much slower ♫

Making her way down the stairs after cleaning in every room upstairs, Penelope held a basket of dirty clothes on her hip with the intention of taking them to the laundry. Aika sat at the foot of the step, with her leash in her mouth, her head cocking to the side when the two made eye contact. "What's up, Aika?" Penelope asked, stepping off the last step before reaching down to take the leash from the dog. "You wanna go on a walk, huh?" Dropping the basket by her feet, Penelope knelt and clipped the leash to the dog's collar, holding it tightly in her hand as she opened the front door. "Okay girl, c'mon!"

Syverson had been gone most of that morning and afternoon to a psych appointment. He hated Friday mornings for that exact reason, twice a month a doctor sat across from him and tried picking his brain apart. And then by the end of the appointment, usually his meds were switched around, doses were changed. It was all such a big headache. Shutting the door behind him, he let himself slump against it, his shoulders drooping as he waited to hear the sound of Aika's paws hitting the floor.

Except he didn't. And the air around him had a slight scent of lemons to it. Pulling his brow together, Syverson stood up straight again and looked down seeing a laundry basket that he surely hadn't left there. "Aika?" No answer. Even though he was telling himself not to panic, Syverson could feel his heart start to pound heavy in his chest. Moving through the house, he stepped into the kitchen and saw things had been moved around, the dishes had been washed and new things sat on the counter like a fresh loaf of bread and a new box of cereal.

"Penelope?"

Still no answer. Sliding the back door open, Syverson stepped out onto the porch and called once more for his dog before his hands started to shake. Panic ran through every vein as he turned on his heel and returned back into the kitchen. If he could've just paused, taken a deep breath and just thought logically for just a second, he would've realized there was nothing to worry about. That it was obvious the volunteer from the VA had been here, that Aika's collar was missing from next to the front door, that they were just on a walk. But the only thought running through his head was that Aika was gone. Just gone.

Just breathe, he told himself, forcing his feet to carry him into the living room where he sank down on the couch. He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as he took in deep breaths through his nose, trying to focus on how his chest would rise and fall. Closing his eyes, Sy told himself to wait, to try and relax before he spiraled out of control.

Penelope had only taken Aika for a short walk around the block. It had only been about ten minutes after Syverson arrived back home that they came in through the front door. The door shut behind Penelope and Syverson rocketed up off of the couch in the living room, no longer able to listen to the voice in his head trying to calm him down. Penelope unlatched the leash off of Aika’s collar, and the second she was free, she darted straight up to Syverson, whose entire body was tense and rigid. She licked his hand, but he didn't respond, instead, glaring a hole into the side of Penelope's head, waiting for her to give him her attention. When her eyes lifted to meet his, he launched straight into screaming. "You don't take my dog anywhere!" He stepped forward, backing Penelope up against the door. Aika whined, laying down in the floor on her belly, hiding her eyes behind her paws.

Caught off guard, Penelope pressed her back up against the door, lifting her hands up by instinct, her eyes widening in fear as Syverson seemed to grow in size, bulking up on her. "What’s the matter? I just took her for a walk-"

"I don't care!" Syverson shouted, feeling like his face was on fire, sure that it was blistering red. He didn't trust Aika with anyone, certainly not a weak looking thing like Penelope. Syverson only knew Aika to listen to him and he didn't even want to think about half of the horrible scenarios running through his mind had she broken loose from the girl. Aika was more than just a dog to him. Hell, Aika was the only thing keeping him alive, especially on his bad days. His hands tightened into fists by his sides, veins popping out and running up his arm. Penelope could feel her heart hit her stomach, watching the anger on the man's face as his chest swelled. "Get out," he growled.

"W-what?" Penelope frowned, pulling her brow together as she looked down at his fists. She could feel her heart in her throat, wondering briefly to herself if he was the type to hit a woman. His fist alone seemed like it was the size of her head and she didn't really want to think too hard on how it might feel to be hit by a man his size. Aika was getting back to her feet, coming up behind Sy's legs, nudging her head against his knees in an attempt to comfort him, hoping it would help him to cool down.

"Get. Out." His voice had lowered now, though Penelope could still hear the exasperation in his voice. The man took a step back, his hand reaching down to scratch behind Aika's ears, trying his damnedest to get himself under control. Penelope felt frozen, her feet glued to the floor as she felt hot, burning tears in her eyes. For the last few hours she had worked hard around his home, nearly finished with everything besides his laundry. "Don't make me tell you again, girl!" Syverson stepped back towards her, feeling his anger spike once more. The sharp gaze he gave her was enough to startle her into jumping forward, slinging the front door open.

He slammed the door closed behind her and she heard the locks falling into place. Her hands were trembling as she looked over her shoulder towards the front door, slowly moving off of the porch. This time, Penelope had no intention of coming back. There had been plenty of times where she found herself in arguments or uncomfortable situations with other veterans she helped, but never had she felt directly threatened. Penelope kept her head down as she hurried to her car, not taking a second glance back.

That evening, Penelope had been quick to submit a report on Syverson, detailing his sizable outburst and how she had felt threatened. One of her counselors had asked if she felt comfortable continuing to see the former captain and she had answered no. 

"I'm sorry this happened," he sighed, closing Syverson's file and pointing towards the door, seeing Penelope out. "I'll have you a new client on Monday morning." 

It didn't feel good giving up on someone, but she told herself that she had to put herself first, her safety first. Penelope had never found herself in a situation with a man where she felt in danger, but now when she closed her eyes, her brain was just sending her into what if circumstances, the image of his tightened fists and clenched jaw permanently etched into her mind. Penelope just nodded, trying to keep her head held up as she left the counselor's office.

Out in the hall, she was having a hard time shaking this sinking feeling she had, like guilt was already beginning to eat her alive and she had only made her decision mere moments ago. Heading out into the lobby, Penelope stopped by the front desk, leaning her elbow against it and letting out a heavy sigh. The receptionist, a girl named Katherine, looked up at her and gave a confused look. "You alright? Ready to sign out, girly?" At the same time, a psychiatrist came walking up to the desk to check back in from their lunch hour. 

"Not really-" Penelope sighed, hearing her phone ding in her pocket, but for the moment, she ignored it. "When do you get off today? Wanna go get drinks?" she asked, picking up the pen to scribble her name on the sign-out sheet. 

Outside, the sun was already beginning to hide behind the horizon and storm clouds were rolling in. There was a heavy scent in the air, like the smell right before it rains. Penelope had been disappointed to hear that Katherine was pulling a double shift as she sank into the driver seat of her car. It seemed like she was heading to the bar alone.

Ding! Her phone went off a second time, reminding her of the message she had ignored only a few minutes prior. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw the the name that popped up on the small screen.

𝚃𝚎𝚡𝚝: 𝟽:𝟸𝟹𝚙𝚖 𝚂𝚢𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛.

[audiodiaryofasuperhero]

About that Unannounced Hiatus...

Hi, y'all. Remember us? We took a pretty long unannounced break from… well, just about everything to do with the public side of this show.

While we can’t go back & make this hiatus have never happened, or hell, even go back and handle it better, we can explain how & why it happened. If we can’t fix it, we can be honest about it. Maybe we can even bring about a little awareness in the process.

Note: This post is almost entirely about the past year & a half. We will write a separate post covering what’s going on now & what’s next for ADoS. We don’t want to cram those things onto the end of this long post when those are the things worth getting excited about!

Now, to do this, I need to address you as Laura Henderson, the writer/producer/nearly everything on this show. Because the reasons behind the Unannounced Hiatus of Suffering pretty much all have to do with things that were going on in my life.

Hang with me - this is a long explanation.

Some content warnings before proceeding. This explanation includes anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, self-harm, mania, hypomania, dislocations, & doctors being shitty people who are bad at their jobs.

I made an announcement right before the hiatus, publicizing what was meant to be a small break in production while my household dealt with a clusterfuck of a moving process. What I didn’t mention was the fact that I was struggling with some worsening anxiety & depression issues as well.

As soon as we’d moved, when I was meant to be finishing episode six, three different things happened. 1) I got caught in one of the worst depression spirals of my life. Like, I hadn’t felt so terrible since middle school. I struggled with awful focus issues, self-harm, & suicidal ideation. 2) I got a promotion to sales lead at work. This sounds fancy, but it functionally means that I became the lowest tier of management at my store. With our staff numbers dropping post-Holidays, my hours ratcheted up to 35 hours a week. Plus school. Plus chronic illness. Plus mental health issues. Which all feeds into - 3) I wasn’t happy with the draft of episode 6. I needed that script to do five different vital things, & at the time, it did maybe two of them. I recorded that draft, but ended up deleting it out of frustration at what it didn’t set up for later plot. With everything else going on, it was easiest just to… put it down.

Spring came & my depression receded, although my focus issues increased. This was just in time for me to dislocate my knee pretty majorly. With EDS (an illness I share with Adira), dislocations are pretty commonplace. But most of them are small, slide back in nearly immediately with little to no intervention, & do very little damage to the tissue surrounding the joints. Others are major, where the joint slides farther out of place than usual & stays out of socket until manipulated back into place, doing a fair bit of damage to the surrounding tissues. This was definitely the latter. I was in pain for weeks, & all my spoons were spent trying to get through my shifts at work.

The knee eventually healed. My first night out dancing after it healed, some asshole stepped on my ankle & dislocated it. Not my foot, mind you - my ankle. (I am still very salty about it.) Wash, rinse, repeat from above.

Then things really started to go to hell.

In late June, I started seeing a psychiatrist for my focus issues. My dad has ADHD, & we’d begun to wonder if I may have inherited. The psychiatrist, understandably, chose to start by treating my depression and anxiety instead. She also indicated that she suspected I may have a bipolar disorder. She prescribed me Zoloft, & told me I should call her immediately if I started experiencing suicidal ideation or mania.

Lucky me, I got both.

By week two, I was drifting into a mixed affective state, where I’d be slightly uncomfortably energetic but also a bit depressed. By week four, I was on a little carnival rollercoaster. I was energetic, anxious, depressed, & had a very small voice in my head suggesting awful but non-fatal things I should do to myself. By week six, I was riding a Six Flags thrills rollercoaster, with celestial highs & infernal lows. I felt like I was going to vibrate out of my skin, I went from aggressive cheer to rage at minor provocations, and the voice in my head was nearly indistinguishable from my regular thoughts, telling me all the different ways I could & should kill my self. I was manic. I would have been suicidal if my friends hadn't been acting as voices of reason. I called my psychiatrist in tears & left a message with her receptionist. She never called me back. I stopped taking the pills.

Needless to say, I found a new psychiatrist, an awesome guy who believes in evidence-based practice. We started experimenting to find a good balance of meds. We started with the assumption that there was a low but substantial probability that I had a bipolar disorder, but that it was more likely that Zoloft was responsible for most of the mania symptoms. As the milder medicines mostly failed to stabilize me, we adjusted the probabilities of bipolar upwards, eventually concluding with a diagnosis of bipolar 2. 

While we were still in the early stages of medication experimentation, & I was mentally stable enough to sort of function & get a bit optimistic, my body decided it was its turn to be a melodramatic little bitch. 

Everything started dislocating. Everything. 

My knees, normally prone to minor dislocations around 4 times a week or so, started going out constantly. And then my hips got in on it. And then my ankles. And my ribs. And my shoulders. I went from using a cane, to using crutches, to using a rolling walker. I usually had more joints out than in.

I tried to work through all of this, but it was a nightmare. At one point, I was sitting in my walker at the cash wrap, twisted around to grab something from behind me, and both my hips popped out with an audible “snap.” I tearfully handed the guest what I’d been grabbing for them, then backed myself away from the register to cry for a moment.

Right at the end of October, I asked for a medical leave of absence from my job, with the intention of seeing my rheumatologist to update her on the situation and see what could be done.

When I went to see her, I had a list of ten things that needed to be accomplished. I managed none of them.

When she arrived in the little room, I started explaining what had been going on with my joints for the past two months. She cut me off.

“I can’t help you with that,” she said impatiently. “I can’t help you.”

She went on to add, “But I see you’ve been losing weight - that’s excellent.” (I’d been in too much pain to eat.) “And I’m glad that you went dancing,” (referring to the ankle dislocation from June that had been giving me so much trouble since). “You should exercise as much as possible.” (Ignoring that I’d been trying to tell her I could barely move.)

At this point, I was very teary. My joint doctor was telling me that she could not help me with my joint condition.

“You should look into being treated for depression. You seem very upset.”

To say I left her office devastated is a bit of an understatement. I sobbed in my car in the parking lot for twenty minutes.

I called my auxiliary brain, my most rational, anti-suicide friend. 

“Please, come keep me company. Make sure that I don’t do anything stupid,” I pleaded.

He had some errands to run, but I sat in the car with him. On the interstate, I had to fight the urge to open the car door and throw myself into traffic.

But he got me through that awful day. The next month and a half was a long, drawn-out depression swing.

At the beginning of December, my manager called me. 

“Are you coming back?” she asked.

“I - I don’t think I can,” I admitted.

“I’ll consider this your notice, effective immediately,” she said. “Get better, Laura.”

Things slowly got better. My body calmed down. One of my psych meds was able to pull double-duty as a joint pain medication. I could walk again, even if I wasn’t quite comfortable dancing. I became happier, and if I was hypomanic or in a mixed affective state more so than even-keeled, it was better than being manic or depressed.

I withdrew from my college program, and applied to an online program. While the new program was not my beloved data science, combining information technology with mathematics was close enough.

I was accepted too late to start spring classes.

In early February, I managed to find a new rheumatologist, after calling four offices who explicitly said they weren’t comfortable treating me. She didn’t do terribly much for me, but she explained what she was going to watch for. She referred me to an orthopedist.

By this point, I was thoroughly bored of sitting around the house. I re-applied at my old work place, and was welcomed back with great enthusiasm.

Then my psychiatrist cancelled an appointment. It was nearly impossible to get ahold of his office to reschedule over the phone. Every time I went in person to reschedule, there was no one at the desk. I started rationing my medication, and then I ran out. Things, rather predictably, went pear-shaped.

A few weeks ago, summer classes started for me. I finally got back on medication. My work place started a big hiring push, which reduced my hours to my betterment.

After all that shit, I’ve finally begun to feel like a person again. It was rough and it tested me in ways I hadn’t been tested before. It made social media seem like an overwhelming prospect. I couldn’t manage a huge undertaking like my beloved podcast. But now....

Audio Diary of a Superhero never once left my mind, and now I’m ready to get it up and running again, better than ever before. I’m healthier, happier, and very motivated.

I’m not going to talk about what comes next in this post. But it’s coming. Look out.