#i sound schizophrenic well Maybe I Am

[rainbowtvz]

*grits teeth*

i do not want to discourse here or anywhere anymore but it does kind of affect me as a transmasc bi person when i see shit that indirectly misgenders me and implies that bisexuality is an icky no good word and identity and you have to be bi and gay and bi and lesbian and bi and straight at the same time or support them or you're an evil stinky stinky terf like... hello where am, i

[petew21-blog]

I'm the dad now

"Come on Dad, this is gonna hurt both of us. Just stop fighting and let go. You're not gonna win."

The hairy man was alone in the bathroom fighting with himself, screaming in pain, grabbing his neck and trying to comfort himself. He spoke to himself, which may sound schizophrenic, but this wasn't the case. He was being possessed for the first time by his teenage son, Joe, who had big troubles at school for skiping classes. Joe wasn't usually the type to skip school, but there was this bully he wanted to get back at. He found way to possess someone, but it took a lot of practice to do. You couldn't just possess someone asleep, but them being awake was the thing that made it so hard. They fought and the more they fought the harder it became to stay in the body. But after many many hours of possessing multiple students of his for just a few seconds, he finally felt like he could be ready to possess his bully now. If it weren't for the letter from school that came in mail this morning. Joe opened it and saw that they asked his father to come by for a meeting with the principal. "Oh, no. My dad can't see this. I have to do something." An evil and slightly reckless idea followed.

And as you guessed correctly, Joe's idea was to just possess his father and go to the meeting himself. Did he think about the consequences? No. But that didn't matter now, because his father still faught for his body pretty hard. The only lucky thing for Joe was that his father won't remember the process of possession.

"I win dad. I am stronger. You have to sleep now and let it go!"

Few minutes of fight followed and then quiet.

Joe laughed with tears in his eyes. Sweat all ower his body from the fight. "You could have atleast made my possession a bit easier than this, dad."

Now was the perfect time to hurry up, dress dad's body and meet the principal. But Joe's teenage mind went to a different place. His dad can be late. It's about Joe's life. Not him. He only has to show up

Joe P.O.V.

"Damnnnnn dad! You have really been hitting the gym recently, haven't you? Maaan look at me" I didn't expect this to be so hot. I was a bit grossed out possessing my own dad, but now I might actually enjoy this.

"I never noticed, how really handsome you are, daddy." Hairy pecs, beautiful biceps. You're a real man, I'd like to be some day. Well... not someday. Now."

"It's actually not your biceps now, dad. It's all mine. Just look at it. So amazing. The boys at school would be so jealous. No they WILL be jealous. Just wait till I show them who I am now."

"Oh dad. Why the hell have you been hiding all this from me. I would have never thought about possessing that fucker Bill. Why should I even bother now about some dumb school shit. I can be an adult man for fuck's sake. I am the man now. I am my DAD."

"These muscles are so firm and tight. I wonder how many times a week you have been going. Might get used to it now." Wait, am I really thinking what I am thinking? Do I want to stay like this. No, this must be the after efect of possession, not just a desire to be the hairy dad of mine.

"Haha, I'm so heavy now that I'd most certainly beat all the boys in the football club. Well maybe not the quarterback, but everyone else I might. Maybe I should get Trevor to possess him. We could enjoy being two studs together. I would be a bit older, but I'm sure he won't mind. Especially not while we are exploring our new bodies."

"Which brings me to this awful towel." I dropped it on the floor where it belongs

"Wohohooo, much better. Damn dad, the razor stays clean all the time for a reason right? I won't change that don't worry. I'm pretty sure Trevor likes his men hairy. Not like he would know what a man's touch is like or even sex. But tonight he will. I will let him scratch my beard, kiss my biceps, massage my back."

"Oh boy, I have to go take care of this beast now. Don't want to cum in the principals office. Haha, I love being my dad."

[auschizm]

(This is more of a vent and I completely understand if you don't want to post it)

I'm scared of developing schizophrenia. I don't know for sure that I will, but I am at risk for it. My great-grandmother was institutionalized for most of her life because of it, though no one else since her has had it. But plus that, I'm also autistic, which raises the risk a little. I've heard schizophrenic people talk about their experiences, and while I understand that it's important not to fear the people because they aren't "dangerous" like society says they are, I'm afraid of the disorder itself. I don't want hallucinations or delusions or psychosis. Nothing about schizophrenia sounds positive and being autistic is hard enough. I'm on the young side to develop it, but that just means I get closer to the "danger zone" so to speak every year. The risk for me to get it is kinda low (it's not like an immediate family member has it) but it also is higher than the average person. I'm just...scared.

I get that you're just venting and mean no harm, and if you someday develop psychotic symptoms/schizophrenia, this blog is part of a movement of people ready to help support you through that as well as we can. But I really don't appreciate asks from non-schizo spec people about how they're sooooo terrified of Maybe Someday Becoming Like Me. I don't like the implication that there's no joy or happiness to be found in a life like mine, and that just by existing like this I'm someone's darkest worst case scenario. It's hurtful and ableist, no matter how genuine and impersonal your fear of schizophrenia is

[nalyra-dreaming]

Something something about the sequence of "Marius de Romanus, Venitian contemporary of Tintoretto's", "The Groan" and "I serve a god" in the very same dialogue exchange + Real Rashid + Marius burning Eudoxia's acolyte Rashid + Eudoxia wanting to take TWMBK for herself + the way Children of the Millennia worshipped Akasha + Teskhamen being part of Akasha's original cult, the founder of the Talamasca and Marius' maker + the Talamasca finding Marius' painting + these paintings hanging in Dubai

I sound schizophreinc but I swear I'm not. I feel like I'm onto something that I can't fully grasp yet but something like the show merging the concept of Marius and the Talamasca together somehow??? I don't know I need to watch S2 right now😭😭😭

Alright *cracks knuckles* :)

So I am (not sure if you know but probably) firmly in the team "Marius is somewhere around and TWMBK are in the basement. And Lestat is probably there in his coma as well.".

For me (myself and I) all the hints point to that.

The painting, the comment re the prime minister, the groan, Fareed, Armand's little comment re serving a god. If the groan is Armand being annoyed or TWMBK will be something that will be interesting to see, but...

I really do not think you schizophrenic :)))

Marius has ties to the Talamasca (Raymond Galant), not only through his maker (though that is indeed a rather strong tie) but also through his contacts to it through the ages.

I absolutely believe that some of his painting will play a rather important role still in the show(s), especially since the set design emphasizes their meaning so much.

So yes. Marius' painting(s) in Dubai. I would bet anything that there are (at least a few) more in the basement. I would bet a lot that there is more than furniture in the basement, too. (In fact I think @cbrownjc might be right on the track in their fic installment, but that just as a note, this aligns to 99% with what I expect as well^^).

It's just the setup of it all. It carries meaning.

Like, Armand wouldn't hang that painting if some things haven't happened. And, as much as he loves/hates/wants Lestat... would he say Lestat is a god? Then again, him being sun-proof (and Louis not) puts us in such an interesting time frame in the books.... and that little easter-egg/hint with the "Book of Hours", too... because remember where that was mentioned?? Right, in Memnoch. By DAVID. David, who implies that they, aka the Talamasca, were tracking said Book of Hours... which had been lost in Berlin in the Second World War. (Btw, I will forever and for all time adore them if Louis just happens to lose some luggage with that darn book on his and Claudia's travels. Seriously. Please.)

Fareed and Seth... and Gregory. And Teskhamen. And Raymond. Hesketh. The Talamasca. Gregory's pharmaceutical empire and Fareed's research. (Which could easily produce special medicine for Daniel). Seth, Akasha's son. The paintings in the living room depicting "mother and daughter"... and "twins".

It's all connected.

And I mean.... knowing the last books... it's not really a far stretch that Marius is involved with the Talamasca. Leads them even, maybe :))))

The show is building up the lore in a quite incredible way, imho. I just hope they do not lose sight of all the threads, because this... if it unfolds over the next seasons as I suspect it will??? ... will be breathtaking.

[ecopunknerd]

i begin to think the poster is schizophrenic… much like myself. their posts sound familiar to my own delusions i have during an episode. i fear that continuing reading this page will only fuel my mind with ideas to torture me with. but then there are the wriggling thoughts in the back of my head

that maybe this is real

what they are talking about is happening. and all that i have experienced has not been just hallucinations. this probably won’t end well for me in the long run, but i am urged to push forward

[andreybogoslowsky]

As a central element, there is a guy on his knees who appears to be screaming something and grabbing his head and he is on his knees in front of a painting, flat on the floor, and it looks like he’s painting landscape, although, if you look onto the painting, those are flowers and the flowers from the painting explode into the universe and create all around, the visible reality, the goddess of life, the tree of Gaia!

On the left of the guy there are cans of paint that being shaken by the waves created by the energy emanating from his painting, and the paint from those cans is flying upwards, creating a vortex. On the left you have bizarre scenery of two giant cacti 🌵 , the kind you have in Arizona spearing each other, killing each other. Well this is a vision from 5 million years into the future when humanity dies out, and cactus 🌵 cacti will build intelligent civilization with languages, computers, and nuclear power.

Of course they will be engaged in perpetual military conflicts because they will continue genetic predispositions inherited from their abusers, and DNA manipulators a.k.a. human beings, who decided to create erotic toys for sexual satisfaction in the middle of 21st century, in our times.

Ultimately humanity will cause its own destruction. how it’s gonna happen I haven’t thought about it yet.

In my novel cactus civilization will rise to prosperity because they have special human DNA to make their skin smoother, or something like that, so the cactus could be used for erotic satisfaction in our times, and it can grow any size you want. Of course any shape you want. On the window of your kitchen, it doesn’t require any thing. it requires only sunlight are very resilient species. I had a bunch in my beach house in Delaware in Fenwick Island.

Then you have the moon or, circular object. It could be the sun and then on the right above horizon you also have a strange more dynamic shape of possible moon, or sun. The idea is this particular image of the sun is created by cactus 5 million years in the future, so it looks like cactus 🌵 Sun 🌞 -CactiSun “

I know it sounds stupid, but this is the usual logic of creation. As humans say -“God created human to its own liking” so humans create everything around to their own goddamn liking regardless and with disrespect to absolute beauty existing without human presence.

I know it’s ridiculous, but this is the usual pattern of behavior of invasive species, which humans are.

There are also two barely visible figures of 🌵 killing each other on the right, and they are depicted as if they were smashed by “spacetime” paradox. Basically, this is a vision of the future. This artist 👨‍🎨 on his knees is experiencing. I am not saying I’m schizophrenic. This is the whole show. This is the Vision I am offering humanity.

It’s a window into 5 million years into the future.

also upper right there are traces of silver lines. The idea is that this is a giant comet resembling the one that smashed into Jupiter 20 years ago, and it broke into smaller pieces as it approached Jupiter closer.

This is how 🌵 civilization will end, or maybe not,

maybe what I meant to say how human civilization will end.

I don’t know 🤷‍♀️

what the !

it’s beautiful to have some silver somewhere on the edge and take away attention from all these black and white, because black is creating a lot of dramatic forces. How can I say?! surrealistic feelings!

my friend started calling me five years ago asking if I’m suicidal.

I was saying “no.

I just recover from two years of suicidal and I’m full of life and prosperity and I am painting new style.

The feeling people get from looking at those drawings is the feeling of danger. Something eminently scary is going to happen any second and I know that.

I’ve been doing it on purpose.

I’ve been manipulating human emotions by those powerful visions.

[terrifickid]

I think pets are fundamentally wrong

You bred them with each other for generations, making this weird imbred mutant creature that can't possibly survive on its own, neuter it, then keep it locked up and feed it gruel - demand complete subordinance and punish it for going to the bathroom.

Sounds like ya'll .

And you love your pet! Just like a member of the family. Except when it's inconvenient or too expensive - then they're dropped off anywhere or at a kill prison.

That's great. Oh and free Palestine.

I think this is a big deal since, thus far and what likely drove me insane was being subordinate to you murderous, obstinate, grotesque cowards.

Having fought out of your hell as a schizophrenic for 40 years, losing my will to live and regaining it leaves me with an interesting taken on the human condition.

I think I'll have to live as a political dissident. It's not a choice to live or die, it's what my relationships will be until I'm dead.

Cause I wanted to get all that schooling.

Now that I see as an insane person, bitch I don't have a future, I guess this changes the algebra on what I can and can not accept.

And I think Blockchain is the ultimate egalitarian arena or at least Bitcoin.

I am not a murderous, grotesque, obstinate coward though this is levied upon me on a daily basis. "Who!?" - motherfucker don't speak to me.

I don't know if being a pacifist precludes me from SSI. But maybe it won't. If I were a misogynist that would be a different story but I am not.

So I think I'm going to double down on being as bad as I want to be. Or at least I'm thinking about it thinking about it.

I dunno, tact can be super useful but tact has become the new state religion and isn't this the very thing that's instigating this so called 7th gen warfare and also the arena predators use to kill?

I think I have passed the point of no return. Or intend to cross it. I don't want to go back. My greatest fear was that it was my fault, that I was being an asshole. I guess I kind of was but not because I was an asshole, just that I was severely mentally disabled at birth and well nobody 'had the heart' oh poor you. I could have been aborted, I could have received the medical care I required, I could of been put in foster care but no, I was just kept in the car, like a dog and trained to speak and sit and be a good boy to cover for everyone so they could destroy the environment with their fancy cars and their hairspray and their addiction to their familial rape fantasy romance.

But thanks to the intrepid women of this era, fuck this. And I think this is my great opportunity to openly wage jihad - since, yes, to my astonishment you shit stains dared to say something. Kudos kudos kudos.

If you had ever dared to train at the dojo I'd graduate you.

But instead it's still 100% fuck me, because it's easy and who has the time or inclination to recognize that you're not the ultimate polysci guru the moment you realized there was anything beyond drugs now that you're 'on the road', or that your political party affiliation is just the carefully constructed pimp game you still crave - perpetrated by your now truly living nightmares, festering merchant molechian golem corporations, which you irrevocably committed all rights and privileges grantable- primarily the flesh of your children - which is cut, processed and sold back to you in the form of violence and violent accessories.

Because I am not a misogynist definitely and because I'm schizophrenic, NOT because I huffed paint or just jazzed out to much, and NOT an asshole. Than I guess I 100% fuck you back.

And isn't that the real meaning of Kobayashi Maru solution space in the end?

Dad killed himself - why? Because he feared the retribution and as a doctor he had sworn an oath. An oath we could never share.

To conclude,

Buy your dog a nice shirt or a wallet or something this Christmas, giving is a beautiful thing.

Kirk, like Picard got told. Told by a little boy. Who was creative and not really boldly made emotional contact with people immediately around him. He being actually thoughtful rather than brash was upset and instead of turning to alcohol got high in this weird Indian seance.

I think you know the rest.

No?

Well, some set jerk was mean to him or something I guess and he quit the show and played d&d with his funny friends.

Kirk too, intrepidly leaving the nexus, followed suit and went on to make a difference again being a paid spokesperson in advanced 'name your own price' technology.

As for Picard, last I heard he was saving the universe, again, from some clthuthonic tentacle AI? While Starfleet got back to war with the Klingons using mushroom teleporters cause they're evil now... Something about a vegetarian space beetle.

Morally murky I grant.

The power is yours!!!!!

[amiabletaxidermist]

“well are you an endogenic system” ????i think im just schizophrenic and thats why i have, for lack of a better terms, headmates, but???? sometimes there are moments where i am them and??? but i do technically have trauma???? or maybe i dont it wasnt even that bad but say that makes it sound worse???? hell am i even considered a system?????

fuck i gotta go to the alps

whenever i see “endos dni” on a post, i have to go on a spiritual journey through the alps and find the cure to mortality before i ultimately decide to scroll by

[weaselle]

It’s time to believe in magic again.

But that’s dangerous. Because what else might I start to believe again? What if... other things... are real too?

Wait. Back up.

a couple years ago I spent a year depressed. Flat-on-my-back depressed. 

Every day for a year, I would wake up and once again refuse to let suicide be an option. So. I would force myself to eat enough to stay alive one more day, and wait for tomorrow. Because I do not. give. up. So stay alive one more day. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.

And somedays maybe tomorrow meant maybe tomorrow it would get better. But somedays it meant, maybe tomorrow I’ll let myself give up and rest forever, so maybe tomorrow, but not today. Never today.

Yet somehow, somehow I seem to have died anyway.

When I left that darkest place, in the year and a half since then, I’ve been a zombie. As I slowly wake up from that state, I’m realizing. The old me was an illusion. This pile of pieces that used to be me... they were all duct-taped together and crumpled into a shape I called whole. But that was never a real person. And now they’ve died, fallen to frankenstein pieces that I’ve swept into a pile, ready to remake, but completely unmade.

Surely these pieces fit together into something amazing.

Someone magical

I’ve experienced magic. My grandmother was gifted. There’s a reason that word is used, because, it’s not like she had powers, just, sometimes in her life she was given a gift. Knowledge of the future, or the ability to alter reality for a moment. These were not things she could do, they were occasional random gifts from ... wherever.

Grandmother had a birthmark on her back. I have the same birthmark. Grandma was there when i was born and when she saw the birthmark she made a minor prophecy. Nobody in the family has ever told me what it was, just that she made it. Sometimes that’s the only way these things will work.

I have also been gifted on occasion, and felt that magic work through me. 

But i was given to scientists to raise.

I realize how this sounds, but it’s not fiction. My mother died when I was young and I was given to my aunt and her husband, an ER nurse and a doctor of internal medicine. And they believe in Science with a capital S.

Which is fine, I too believe in science, and think that every haunted house should be tested for carbon monoxide leaks before getting all spirit-y about it. Science is real there is no doubt.

But at some point I took the entire mystic, magical nature of the universe, and I labeled it all UnKnowable Mystery, and I boxed it all up, and set it aside, like a problem I had solved. It’s all beyond human understanding, i decided, unknowable to the human mind, no need to think about it ever again.

Yet the science of aerodynamics may remain unknowable to the bird in flight, may it not?

So I am determined to unwrap that too-tidy box, and resume my exploration of its mystic contents. Not to know things about how it all works. Just to fly.

But.

Some dark nights, when I remember that I have believed in magic, I find myself ready to believe other things as well. Things that would get me locked away and force-fed medication. Things about aliens and time-traveling government agents and parallel universes. Things about entities watching me, or searching for me, or trying to prevent me from becoming involved in. Something. Vast conspiracies enacted by agencies that make use of messages sent through movies and television. You know, schizophrenic things. And the magic in which my childhood was steeped folds in neatly right along with it all.

But my life has been.. made of many miseries. And if I had to choose between miserable sanity and crazy fulfillment for the rest of this life... I feel ready to choose the second.

So I stand over this pile of pieces that used to be me, and I wonder, what shape shall I build them into this time?

I think it’s time for magic

[dialovers-translations]

Hello! I'm gonna add my HUMBLE opinion on Christa since we're on it; this is not an attack, mind you, just wanna discuss it, anyway sorry for my English and let's go-

Well, I've gotta say that i read your opinions on her and there's something that worries me, when you say that you "won't excuse her just because she was abused too", and also when you say "she could have treated Subaru better" etc... Except that.. she couldn't, and you know why?. Because she was CRAZY and wasn't AWARE of it. That's it, Christa, thanks to his loving husband, became literally delusional and in my opinion she didn't even know it, she simply snapped and wasn't aware of her condition. And when you're not aware of something you just CAN'T CONTROL IT. How can you?? Sometimes you can't even control something even when you're aware of it!

So, when you say -"I won't excuse her, because she could have left Karlheinz, be a damn good mom and care about Subaru more (even though she had no control over her emotional state because she became practically crazy and didn't even know it, great)"- to me it's like saying to someone who suffers from ADHD- "Why can't you just concentrate like others and be normal even though you absolutely have no control over that?!!". That's what I don't like about your reasoning (unless i misunderstood), unfortunately, it's not like "she could have been different", no, there's no "different", she couldn't change herself because she was just crazy mad, like, i don't know, schizophrenic-mad, that's the truth. It's not like ASPD, or NPD or whatever where you go to a therapist, they tell you from what mental illness you suffer and then you try to change yourself to be a better person and function in a society, no. Christa, in our society, would be locked up into a psychiatric hospital, there's no therapy for her, as bad as this sound. That's why I think you're argument doesn't work, you talk as if she had control over her state of mind and consciously did all that shit, but that's the opposite. It doesn't matter if she knew that Karlheinz was using her (I think first she fell in love, then when she found out the truth, she couldn't believe it and just snapped); she probably forgot about that in some of her attacks (when she treated Subaru aka Karlheinz with love), and then remembered that in some others (when she told Subaru aka Karlheinz she hated him). And if you say "yes, i know she didn't have any control over that but she still did it and I hate her for it".. well, the same argument can be used against people who suffer from Alzheimer, like- "I know you have a syndrome that let's you forget your own name but I still blame you and held you accountable for it"... Like, sure.

So, am I justifying her?? I think, yes?? I mean, how can you not?? She was mad, unaware of it, and even therapy wouldn't be able to help her honestly. And if people blame her i think they should also blame people with Alzheimer or ADHD (a mental illness where you can be aware of your problem but still find it impossible to control it, ahahah) etc.

Btw, I'm not arguing about who's the best diamom and all that shit, i don't care, i just think that this reasoning is stupid and, believe me or not, ABUSIVE. Because this way you're gonna blame "neurodivergents" (people who suffer from mental illness) for things they can't control. And that's a problem, because you could say things like:

ASPD/NPD- Why can't you just feel empathy for other human beings even though during your childhood you were emotionally, verbally and maybe even physically abused and as a defense mechanism you literally switched off your own empathy to not feel other people emotions because you are terrified to be hurt again?

DEPRESSION- Why can't you just be happy and smile a little more?? The world is so beautiful! (People don't know that the ones that suffers from Depression usually have a different brain structure from the one of a 'normal' person)

And so on. And to make you understand the stupidity of this argument even more, look at this-

ASTHMA- Why can't you just breathe??!! There's so much air outside!!

I don't actually think you'll use or have used this argument for people with mental illness (tell me you didn't pls). You seem like a good person. Of course, neurodivergents should be held accountable for things they CAN control, and they should try to be better people (not all of them have the humility of doing that unfortunately), but when I read your opinion I got a bit worried honestly. Today, mental illness are very stigmatized, and people in general should start to learn more about them, me included. Hope I didn't offend you, if there's something I misunderstood about your opinion then sorry

Of course, if Christa were a real person, it would change the situation and my opinion on it entirely. I also fully realize that she probably had episodes where she completely lost control, while at other times the rational side of her takes over again and she can think more clearly. (e.g. when she was dying from the poison)

However, since she is a fictional character and not a real person, I don’t necessarily judge her by the same standards. The original question was whether or not Subaru’s DF route made me like her more or redeemed her character, to which the answer would be ‘no’. I genuinely found her constant SCREECHING and crazy behavior to be annoying and I really couldn’t bring myself to sympathize with her. :/

I guess my issue with this whole deal is that Rejet touched upon subject of mental illness in a very shallow way by not fleshing out her character more through flashbacks of her younger years with Karl, her internal struggle between loving and loathing him, etc.

It is mentioned in bits of pieces but only on the side because Yui, Subaru and the Founders all need their screen time as well.

As a result, we’re left with somewhat of a clumsily put-together character who just comes across as a crazy lady throwing anger tantrums because her crush doesn’t like her back.

Christa did have a lot of potential for sure, but a character with such a complex emotional state of mind needs her own whole story to be done justice, rather than serving as a side character to stir up drama or provide the plot with some juicy angst.

[coldbones222]

it’s so exhausting letting myself feel full even after f4sting for a day or longer . the guilt and sadness comes every single time I eat. it makes me wonder how I’d feel if I just stopped 3ating altogether .

then there’s fears I’m gonna go too far

but how far is too far to be confident with myself? how much do I rly care? I’m only gonna have one lifetime as the person I am right now in this body , and I want to feel sexy again and get the attention that I will be entitled to once I’m at my gw.

maybe I should just stop thinking so much and just do what she tells me to do :)) every time I listen, the more I lose so I may as well just stfu and heed her advice

I’m not schizophrenic but I do have an Ed voice (idk how to describe it it’s not literally audible or like a whisper it’s just like instructions and before I eat it’ll be like “ur gonna regret that”. and if I do what I wanna do and eat without listening to it it just gets silent. and I hate when it goes silent bc then I feel like I’m no longer doing what I need to do to reach my goals

this prob sounds crazy asf again im not the best at explaining but yea

[lordtonic]

If it helps the messaging thing sounds like an attachment disorder of some kind. At least when I explained the same thing to my councilor that’s what they told me that is.

Mine works i “the moment I feel we are getting to a certain degree of close my brain starts to shut you out and reject them and the relationships”.

It’s hard to deal with and makes bonding extra hard especially when you start seeing message after message being ignored or seeing your the one that usually has to start or. But you have to remember that’s it’s all okay. And everyone has their own special way of functioning and sometimes that function may clash with your own but that doesn’t mean they don’t want love or appreciate you.

The multi pages reading and assignment thing could be signs that you are close to a burn out or are subconsciously overwhelmed so procrastination is kicking in hard to try and subside it but. We both know it’s not a good time for it so our body is also subconsciously hurting us unknowingly.

I sadly can’t help much there. Cause everyone has different focus methods to help them there. Maybe after reading a couple sentences try incorporating the info too some type of scenarios and the more you read the closer you are to getting to the end of the scenario. Or pretend one of your oc’s or a character(s) are trying to read it too you then switch who’s talking when you start losing the focus again.

Thank u for being logical about it

I am schizophrenic and it's response to my panic response doesn't mix well

I know relationships ebb and flow differently at different times, don't worry!! I get emotional and sentimental at times like this but it still stands that I really miss people that I would message everyday and suddenly there was a change and now I don't, not even maliciously, it's just hard when I try again and it doesn't seem like there's an interest on the other side at the moment, it's not a big deal it just sucks a little

it's really hard, I want a healthy amount of my own time with my schooling but, the education system doesn't rlly work that way, it's just a struggle

I try really hard to keep myself under wraps and last night and honestly still today just isn't good for me, I know it will come to pass I'm just incredibly sensitive at the moment

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Eleven (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Language, Violence, Injuries, Fluff, Mentions of Mental Disorders and Personality Disorders (of which I've used personal experiences as references)

Word Count: 2.8K

A/n: Fourth day of ficmas and y’all get an alternate ending!! The end of this has given me an idea for a new dark!Fic that could potentially become a dark series but idk yet. Anyway, enjoy!! 

A/n 2: This doesn’t fall in line with Madness or Bad Dream, but idc

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“(Y/n)? Honey? You in here?” Bucky hesitantly pushes open the front door, senses on high alert in case you make a hostile move.

“James?”

He walks slowly into the living room, smiling softly when he sees you.

“Hey,” he whispers. You eye him warily and he sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he begins gently, sitting down next to you, “I know what I did was wrong, and I know it looks like I chose her over you, but I’m here for you now. And I’m gonna be here for you as long as you’ll have me.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before grinning.

“You need me,” you state. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “That’s why you came back,” you elaborate, “because you need me. Because you know that Natasha won’t be able to handle you the way I can.”

He swallows hard, thinking back to the way Nat was appalled by the video.

“You’re right.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him. “I know. I know I’m right. I’m the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you! You’d be lost without me and you’re now realizing it, aren’t you?” His guard is up in an instant, your outburst making him uneasy.

You get up off the couch to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“You hurt my feelings, James.” He nods, reaching for your hands slowly. You allow him to take them and watch as he presses gentle kisses to your knuckles.

“I know. And I’m sorry. And you’re right again. I do need you. More than I’ve ever needed anybody and that scares me.” You ponder this for a moment, thinking about all the pictures he received.

“How long were you with her?” He sighs heavily and closes his eyes tightly.

“A month. Maybe longer. At first, she was just something for the soldier when you weren’t there but… I’m not sure why I kept going back. I care about you, I really do.” You hum, pushing his hands away and straddling his waist.

You lean down, lips brushing over his just gently before you smile again.

“I fucked Steve last night. Several times.” A growl rumbles deep in his chest and you pull away for a moment, grinning wickedly as you see his eyes glaze over slightly. His hands grip your hips tightly and he takes a deep breath.

“Your best friend fucked me. For hours. Because you were too busy picking that stupid fucking bitch over me. That’s a lesson for you. I can get whoever I want, whenever I want. You need me, not the other way around. Remember that.” You push yourself off of his lap and walk to the staircase.

“In time you can have me again. But not now. If the soldier needs me, he can have me, but not you, James. Not yet.” He sits panting on the couch, eyes trained on your backside as you leave him confused and aroused.

You close the door to your bedroom and plop yourself down on your bed, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of your mind, the one that’s begging you to leave him. He hurt you, but he’s back. He must care about you or else he wouldn’t have come back, right?

As you’re pondering this, the window slides open with a soft thud. You turn to the sound, anger coursing through your veins as you see the redhead climbing into your room.

“What are you doing here?” You demand, uncurling your legs and climbing off the bed. She closes the window silently and holds her hands up in surrender.

“I just want to talk. Please.” You eye her warily but stay seated at the edge of the bed.

“He came home to me. He chose me. So if you’re gonna try and convince me that he wants you, think again,” you snark, hoping to hurt her feelings before physically hurting her again.

She shakes her head, sitting down slowly on the floor a few feet in front of you, giving you the upper hand if you wanted to get physical.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” You furrow your brows in absolute confusion at her statement. You were expecting a lot of things; yelling, screaming, insults, violence. But this is the absolute opposite of what you had prepared yourself for.

“You don’t even know me,” you scoff, shaking your head at her.

She raises her eyebrows at that. “I know about your parents. Your dad, the paranoid schizophrenic who abused you because he thought he was doing what God wanted. And your mom, the Narcissist who neglected you.”

Your hands start trembling as she brings up people who you’ve fought to forget. The people who made you the way you are.

“You don’t know anything about them. Or me. You’re just-” “Just what? Telling you the truth? Reminding you of the fact that you were raised by them, yet you turned out to be a beautiful, smart, independent young woman?” You look at her, uncertain of where she’s going with this but still angry at the fact that she knows about your past.

“You may have been raised by them, you may have had a difficult childhood, and you may be dealing with something that very few other people can understand, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re not a bad person. You’re hurting, and you’re scared, and I know deep down that you know this isn’t a healthy relationship. But it can stop. We can stop this.”

“You think you know me, don't you? You think you’ve got me all figured out. You don’t. You don’t know a single damn thing about me and I’m tired of you pretending like you do.”

You stand up, glaring at her as she slowly rises to her feet.

“First you come in and intrude on my relationship, make the man who loves me question his devotion to me. Then you come into my room, in my space, and try to tell me that you know all about me. Well, guess what? You don’t. You don’t know a single damn thing about me. You think that because you’ve got the files and the information that you know a single thing about what I’ve done.”

You lean closer to her, lips just barely brushing over the shell of her ear.

“I’ve killed people before, Natasha.” She furrows her brows. You pull away and grin, batting your lashes at her.

“I’ve killed so many people, I’ve lost count. But I remember their faces. Do you wanna know why I did it?” She’s silent but you continue anyway.

“I did it because of the rush. The power of knowing that you hold someone’s life in your hands... and you ended it. It’s euphoric. I may never get enough of it. And when I plan a kill, I plan it precisely. I make sure they have no idea and then... then I pounce.” She backs up a step, inhaling sharply when her back gets pressed into the wall.

“I guess I should thank you, Natty. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be that sweet innocent girl I pretend I am. The one who I’ve been since I moved here. But now that I don’t have to pretend anymore... I feel free. And I’m ready for my next kill. Do you wanna know who it’s gonna be?”

She shakes her head, feeling genuine fear as you talk so casually about ending innocent lives.

“I’ll give you a hint: she’s a woman. And she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Do you have any guesses yet?”

“If you kill me, Fury will kill you. I have no doubt about that.” You snicker and pull away, looking her up and down.

“Yeah... but I’ve got someone on my side who isn’t afraid of him. Someone who’d choose me over you in a heartbeat. You may have James, but I have the soldier. He's perfect. Everything I need and more.

“He broke you!”

“He didn’t break me!” You snarl, fist slamming into the wall beside her head. “He showed me who I am and how much I can take. And let me tell you, having those boundaries pushed... it really opens your eyes to what you can endure as a person. It’s a really spiritual process. Would you like to try it?” You ask, eyes wide and full of mischief.

“No. (Y/n) you’re better than this, I know you are.” You laugh, shaking your head and staring into her eyes.

“See, that's where you’re wrong. And that’s what your problem is. You think you’ve got everyone all figured out. But you don’t. You think I’m better than this? I’m not. I can tell you that right now. I’m not the damsel in distress that you think I am. I don’t need your help. Because I like the way I am. I’m fucking perfect! Men want me, I have a purpose. And now, I can get away with whatever the fuck I want. Murder included.”

“James would never-” “You wanna call James up here? See how he likes you intruding on his space? As soon as he sees me and you in any type of fight, the soldier will step in. I know how to trigger him without those special words.” The colour drains from her face and you nod.

“Him and I? We could be great together. I just need you and James out of the way. And look, you’ve handed yourself to me on a silver fucking platter. So Bravo, Natasha.”

“So what? You’re gonna kill me? Then what?”

You shake your head, fingers stroking her cheek gently.

“I’m gonna post that little video of us first. And then, after the good name of The Avengers has been destroyed, I’m gonna take you somewhere nice and quiet and I’m gonna put a bullet between your pretty green eyes. By then, James will be too consumed with his feelings to fight off the soldier, and I’ll have everything I could ever want.”

“Why?”

“Why am I like this? You said it yourself. Daddy was an abusive schizophrenic and mommy was a neglectful narcissist. They made me like this. I’ve pushed it down for too long.”

“But you can be kind! Caring and compassionate and forgiving! You don’t have to be like this!”

“You want me to be kind and forgiving? Ha! The world isn’t kind nor is it forgiving. Why should I be any different?” She shakes her head at you. “I can’t let you do this.” You raise your eyebrows at her and look her up and down.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? You gonna hurt me?”

She has the two of you in opposite positions in a heartbeat, a knife from her thigh plunged into your side.

You cry out in pain, slumping against the wall.

“James!” You shout, eyes full of pure evil as you look at the redhead in front of you.

Her eyes widen as you rip the knife out of your gut and shove it into hers.

The door bursts open as he runs into the room.

“Nat? What’s...” he trails off and you see the switch as the soldier takes over upon seeing you injured. Natasha is torn from you and tossed to the floor while the soldier hovers over you, inspecting the knife wound for a moment before looking back over his shoulder to where the threat is.

She scrambles to her feet and holds one of her hands up in surrender, the other going to her gut and gently holding around the knife wound

“James, listen to me. You need to understand that she isn’t who she says she is.”

You grab his hand, holding tightly and doing your best to look innocent.

“She came in here and tried to convince me to leave you. When I refused she stabbed me and said I was a monster just like you. I-I didn’t want her to hurt you... I had to do it...” You can see him struggling, trying to regain control of his body as the soldier reaches out to you.

“Bucky, Listen to me. She's not who you think she is. I know I vouched for her in the beginning but now it’s different. You’ve gotta listen to me. She’s dangerous. Please. She stabbed you and she stabbed me, James please.”

He looks between the two of you, clearly measuring his options.

“You chose her once, James. Don’t make the same mistake. Please. I trusted you.” You can see the confusion and anguish in his eyes as he looks at you then over at Nat.

“James, please. Please, you need to believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know you’re in there.”

“No! She hurt me! She tried to get me to leave you! She tried to come between us! Don’t let her get away with it! Please, James. Please. She did it once, what’s stopping her from doing it again?”

It’s silent for a very long time, the two of you staring at the man, waiting for him to make his decision. When you see his shoulders tense and his jaw clench, you know you’ve won this fight.

The soldier turns to Nat, metal plates in his arm whirring as he clenches his hand in a fist.

“Leave. Never come back. If I ever see you near here again I will kill you.” His words are spat with a thick Russian accent, and it takes all of your self-control not to smile wickedly at the redhead.

“James please! Please, you’ve gotta listen! She isn’t who you think she is!” He says nothing, simply takes your hand and nods at you.

“He picked you last time. Now he’s finally picking me,” you whisper, smiling softly at the man only to grin wickedly at Nat when he turns away.

“Leave now,” he barks, glaring at her until she starts moving. She half runs half limps out of the house, leaving you alone with the soldier.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hugging him tightly then hissing as the wound in your side burns.

He lays you down on the ground, inspecting the gouge before nodding to himself. He stands without another word to retrieve a first aid kit and when he’s beside you again he starts stitching you up, his fingers gentle and kind.

You spend the rest of the day relaxing with the soldier, Bucky hardly making an appearance at all.

You’re getting ready for bed when you feel someone’s eyes on you.

“God, do none of you have any respect for other peoples’ privacy?” You demand, turning around with your hands on your hips.

Steve stands by the door, his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face.

“You know why I’m here.” Is all he says. You nod, pursing your lips and plopping down on your bed.

“The redhead sent you. Came and tattled on me for being a bad girl, right?” He says nothing, but you see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Fury’s gonna find out.”

“Oh yeah? And then what? Is he gonna deprive his pet of the one person who can keep him calm and contained?” Steve’s silence is answer enough.

“Don’t act like I’m the bad guy here. You and I both know that you’re just as fucked up as I am, if not more.” He swallows hard and avoids eye contact, making you chuckle.

“Imagine what would happen if people found out about Captain America’s depraved fantasies. Imagine if they knew how badly he craves power... how he longs to make people cower before him. Well, I don’t think they'd react too well to that. Do you?” His nostrils flare as he finally looks at you.

“What do you want?” He asks.

“I want to help you find her. Whoever it is you’re planning on taking. I want to be a part of it.” He furrows his brow, taken aback by your request.

“Why?”

“Because,” you whisper, pushing yourself to your feet and standing right in front of him. “The power is euphoric. It’s addictive. And I wanna feel it again.”

He stares down at you, blue eyes fighting a battle as he mulls over your words.

It’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong. He knows you’re not a good person and that wanting the things he wants isn’t something a good person, a normal person, wants. And yet... there’s something so alluring about you. Something addictive about the darkness inside of you. And he desperately wants a taste of it.

With a huff out of his nose, he glances down.

“So we have a deal?” You ask, a smile playing around the edges of your pretty lips.

“We’ve got a deal.”

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

[thenightlymirror]

See, articles on schizotypal personality disorder always make it sound really weird, like “occasional schizophrenia”, but reading into it now it really doesn’t seem that exotic at all. It’s really like the least charitable possible descriptions of the behaviors.

When you frame it more in terms of, people with schizotypal personality disorder believe they have depression, but really what they have is kind of unevenness with the level of “color” in their lives. When I was referring before to “a biological predisposition to religious experiences”, that is exactly this. And I think the difficulty with close relationships comes from the same picking up on small cues and amplifying them to be more meaningful than they are. That’s paranoia. It’s like what I describe as there being too much noise in my mind, in regards to strange thoughts and observations.

So would that mean I am more schizotypal than depressed or bipolar? Also, the similarities to temporal lobe epilepsy really are striking (asking a schizophrenic about plausible correlations). But, also, derealization and hyperrealization seem like perfectly reasonable expectations as reactions to trauma. It really does feel like my brain is just out-of-whack in that regard.

Pot also helped surprisingly well with my almost permanent feelings of derealization. See, “derealization” is way too scary of a word. It’s not like I’m in cartoon-world. It’s just that every single sense of mine is very dull. And when things get shaken up and the veil lifts, it’s so intense. I think when I’m high, the derealization lifts and I can actual hear and see things normally, but then, haha I’m high and that can’t help any grounding to “reality” at all. So, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just another whiplash method of flinging yourself from derealization to hyperrealization.

Because the nouminous is by it’s very nature ineffable, indescribable, I think that might be the difficulty in separating depression and schizotypal diagnoses. Maybe depressed mystics are not that common anyway. But that’s really fascinating to me.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

so hi, this ask might be worded bad because it's late and i'm tired but. my parents were constantly fighting. my dad was very physically abusive to my mom, i can't remember any of my childhood except for small snippets. and i still have to live with my mom, who i think is emotionally abusive. sometimes i wish i was old enough to move out already (i almost am, just a bit longer thankfully) because i can't stand being around her and then other times she'll do something nice and i'll feel guilty and wonder if maybe it's not that bad and i'm just blowing fights out of proportion. she's told me she wishes i was never born and has told me to go die two times, and that her life was so much better before i was born. but then she'll tell me she loves me and that she doesn't mean any of it. she used to hit me but hasn't done so in months. i'm also autistic and have to mask my symptoms constantly or else she'll get mad, and i'm also schizophrenic and she says my hallucinations "scare" her and she's started calling me crazy. she'll start fights and then say it's my fault. but she's not like this most of the time and i just don't know what to think anymore. do you have any advice? is my mom abusive?

Hey anon,

I'm so sorry you're going through this. What you've described sounds awful, and I promise you that none of it is your fault. You deserve better than this and I'm so sorry you aren't getting it.

Based off your description, I would agree; I definitely think your mom is emotionally abusive. She's put you in a position where you need to hide the symptoms of your neurodivergence--a lot of abuse survivors felt like they were "walking on eggshells" around their abuser in order to keep the peace, so to speak, and this sounds a lot like that to me. No one should be put in that position; it's horrible and ableist and you don't deserve any of it. She's also gaslighting you by blaming you for fights she started and by telling you she doesn't mean anything she's said--even if she truly doesn't mean what she's told you, she's still saying it, and explaining that she doesn't mean it doesn't detract from that. It's manipulative and awful and she needs to work on not saying what she does in the first place, not promising you she didn't mean it after the fact.

I think the clearest sign that your mother is abusive to me is the fact that you think she might be. Abuse victims, as a general rule, don't want to believe that they have been or are being abused, especially by the people they love--this is part of the reason why so many people will make excuses for their abusers or will overlook harmful behaviors. If there's enough of these behaviors that you think it might be abuse, therefore, it's quite likely that it is (this isn't true in every case, but I strongly believe it is in this one).

It's important that you remember people can be abusive and still do nice things from time to time; it might be because they feel some (I'd assume temporary) remorse for their actions, because they genuinely do love their victim, or for any other reason. This doesn't change the fact that they're abusive, and it doesn't change what they've done to you in the past. If your brain is anything like mine, knowing this won't change the fact that you still question it, but it's still incredibly important to remember.

It sounds like your best course of action is to wait until you can move away from your mother. For now, a good option might be therapy--if your mother won't let you, it might be a good idea to hint that it would help with your schizophrenia. I hate to suggest that, but it seems like what would be most likely to get her to allow you to go, and ultimately that's what's the most important. You might also consider keeping a journal where you can write about what your mother does to you--that way, you'll have proof when you're questioning your abuse, as well as a way to express it.

I really hope this helps, anon. Please feel free to send in another ask if there's anything else we can do for you; we want to be here for you.

Stay safe,

Mod Henrie