#i think even if they aren't psychiatric patients

[the-cookie-of-doom]

for a while now, I've really been doubting my career choices with nursing. I know a lot of it is burn out and depression, and being so overwhelmed between work, school, and clinical, that I didn't have time to breathe. I was in the hospital/on campus for 60 hours a week last semester, and that's not counting the time I had to study outside of that. It was awful. I quit my job because of it, I was almost involuntarily committed because of it.

But the scariest part for me has been how much I've hated clinical. It makes me miserable. And that's terrifying, because once I graduate? That's what I'm going to be doing for the rest of my life. So if I already hate it now, what does that mean for my future?

Sometimes, though... Sometimes I'll have a clinical that is just so good, it reminds me of why I'm doing this. Why I'm putting myself through the pain and suffering of becoming a nurse, which is honestly one of the hardest careers a person can have. It's mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting. It destroys your body and your mental health. Most of the time it's thankless. It doesn't pay nearly enough for what we go through.

Despite all of the reasons there are not to become a nurse, there are some patients that will remind you why it's all worth it anyway.

Last week, I had a crotchety old bitch of a patient. She had been in the hospital for 10 days, was refusing all of her treatments, screamed at anyone that came in her room, and demanded dilaudid around the clock, despite having no injuries to justify it. Everyone hated her. Her own nurses went in her room as little as possible; I think in the entire 12 hours I was there, her nurse spent maybe a total of 20 minutes in her room. I was in there for hours. A couple minutes at a time in the beginning just so she could warm up to me. Then I spent 2 straight hours at her bedside just talking to her. Letting her tell me her life story. Which was tragic, of course, and no wonder she was so run down and bitter and wanted to get high off narcotics. She was miserable, lonely, and in chronic pain from a body that was deteriorating around her.

So I spent as much time with her as possible. Sure enough, she didn't ask me for any pain medications a single time, once she realized she could trust I was going to look after her. I Explained her medications and her treatments, and the reasoning behind them. I offered to reach out to out chaplain when I noticed she was hyper focused on some televangical broadcast. I got her to call her son to come visit her. I got her to agree to take her medications and allow us to take blood sample for her labs, which were days overdue. I got her up and working with physical therapy so she could start walking again.

By the end of the day, that patient loved me. Not a single complaint all day, she wasn't screaming down the halls and cursing everyone's existence. She was still crotchety and mean in that way old hillbillies are, but she wasn't angry. She wasn't lashing out. She was finally being cooperative. All because I took the time to talk to her and offer her company.

Tonight, I had a shift in our mental health unit. There was a patient who I noticed was very withdrawn and avoiding everyone, mostly just standing in a corner at the end of the hall, by a window. I went down and talked to him. Kind of stilted at first, but slowly he opened up to me. I really only meant to talk for a few minutes, mostly for my own sake, to get used to interacting with mental health patients like this.

Instead, we talked for hours. Nearly 3 hours straight at the start of the day alone, and then more throughout the day. My feet were killing me by the end of it, but it was completely worth it to see the way this poor guy came to life. We talked about everything from social topics like music and movies, to his medications and treatments, and how to manage his depression once he leaves. Something I was able to connect with him about on a personal level in a way his nurse hadn't, because I've been living with depression for a decade, I've been on antidepressants, and I understand. I think that was the point it clicked for him, when he really started reaching out to me, instead of answering when I prompted him. Because humans need connection and understanding.

By the end of the day he was talking freely and smiling nearly non-stop. We'd made plans for him to get back into an old hobby he hadn't touched in years, and he seemed genuinely excited to start it back up again. He was nearly bouncing in place when I went to say goodbye to him at the end of the night, and thanked me for talking to him all day. Even the staff nurses noticed the way his demeanor had completely changed.

Another patient (my actual patient for the night) started the day very combative. To the point she had to be redirected to her room (not locked up, just strongly encouraged to go and cool down). She was screaming at everyone, having some very serious and severe delusions. Same story; I talked to her throughout the day, little bits whenever she was feeling calm. I noticed she had a tattoo from an old semi-niche XBox game I used to play, and we bonded over that. By the end of the shift she loved me. Kept asking me if I'd gotten lunch/dinner, made sure all the other patients on the unit got their snacks, told us all to get some rest once it was curfew for the unit (we had to stay another 2 hours) and said we could use the spare bed in her room if we needed. Which sounds really weird but coming from her was incredibly sweet. Again, total attitude change.

I am very cognizant of the fact that the way I approach my patient care is largely a privilege of still being a student. It's easy for me to stand at a patient's bedside for 2 hours straight and listen to her life story when I have nothing better to do, let alone 3 other patients to take care of. But that nurse didn't talk to her at all. Even when she was in the room, she dismissed everything the patient said. The mental health nurses? Most of their time is spent in the nursing station gossiping and messing on their phones. There's no reason for them not to put in the extra effort of spending time with their patients. And especially there, it can have such an impact.

All of that is to say, I love the relationships I'm able to build with my patients. It's so important for me to be able to connect with people like this, to make them feel seen and cared for and important. No one wants to be treated like an inconvenience, especially not while they're in the hospital, sick and hurt and exhausted and in pain.

Nights like these are why I'm going into this field. I love medicine and I always knew I would end up in the hospital, I've always wanted to be able to save someone's life. But I think now that I've grown up and I'm actually working with these patients, I've come to see not only how rewarding it is to save someone's life, but to nurture that life, too.

[ckret2]

Do you believe bill will eventually get better, even if it takes close to an eternity? Or do you think that is just his destiny, to forever be in denial of his mistakes?

I think on a long enough timeline change is inevitable. One way or another, Bill can't stay the same for an eternity.

He isn't necessarily getting better, though. Meds could leave him brain damaged, brain dead, or dead-dead—that's a real risk in psych wards from overmedication, errors, or adverse reactions to drugs, and I doubt Bill would have complained about the place being overmedicated unless the drugs were actually doing something to him. He could crumble under the stress and end up complying with whatever it takes to get him out of there and leave as a broken husk of who he once was. Or he could get more traumatized, more angry, more defiant, more hateful, spiraling on into infinity.

Psychiatric hospitals are, by and large, awful places to be. In fact the only time I've ever seen positive reviews of a psych hospital are from people who have been to multiple and are relieved their latest one is so much better than normal. A very common happy outcome of a psych hospital stay is literally "I absolutely needed to be there and going was the right choice, and I'll be traumatized the rest of my life because of it." And that's when the psych hospital did well.

The Theraprism uses solitary confinement + total sensory deprivation—which humans use as a torture and interrogation technique—as a punishment. I don't think they're doing it well.

I think Bill can improve—mainly because, frankly, at this point there's not a lot of ways left his situation could get worse—but if he does, at this point? It'll be in spite of the Theraprism, not because of it. It's pretty common in psych hospitals (particularly forensic psych hospitals, where all the patients also have the stigma of being criminals) for the treatment to hold patients back more than help. Things like patients that have committed more violent crimes being scrutinized much more than other patients and thus rated as more unwell than other patients displaying the same symptoms. Or patients objecting to taking a med that makes their mental condition worse, and being written up as noncompliant for it and pushed further back from being released until they agree to take the drug that makes them worse. Or patients having innocent behaviors reinterpreted as signs of mental illness ("keeps a journal" = "pathological need to write").

But he could improve. Maybe being cut off from his powers & his enablers will cause him to think over his life for the first time; maybe he'll make actual emotional connections with fellow patients that help him improve; maybe he realizes "this is the worst place ever, I've GOT to turn my life around" and starts checking out self help books from the hospital library. There's even a very slim chance he might get a competent psychiatrist who listens to him, doesn't assume he's incapable of self-insight just because he's mentally ill, and sees him for more than fifteen minutes once in a blue moon—all of which aren't traits you find in psychiatric hospitals as often as you might hope.

Dandelions can grow from the cracks in sidewalks, and people can improve in shitty psych wards.

But I expect the Theraprism will have to reform before Bill reforms.

I expect even more that Bill will find a way to escape before either thing happens.

[simply-wlw-kpopstan]

7. Home

⚠️ Spoilers ahead, brief mention of suicide (implied in 1 sentence)

You got a message from yewon with everything you needed on Sunday. She even did more than you asked and hacked into the psychiatric visitor's list to get your name on there. She truly was a gifted hacker if she can do all of that without getting caught. Now what will you do when you get there?

First things first, call your aunt and explain everything that happened. Step two get a good lawyer so you can fight harin's sorry excuse of a family and get her out. Step 3 get your aunt to agree to let harin stay with you. Thinking it over, the hardest part would be step 2. You knew your aunt would let harin stay if you asked, she already knew a little about her since you accidentally slipped out you had a crush. What will happen when you see harin? What if she thinks you're there to take her home and you have to tell her that you can't? You shook your head and waved those thoughts away.

The day had arrived when You were going to visit harin for the first time and got nervous. At first glance it looks like a small hospital but once you actually look, you notice the barred windows. you realize how isolated it actually is when you don't hear a sound and it starts to feel eerie.

When you arrived at the doors, they were locked and you buzzed the intercom. A woman at a desk looked up from inside, smiled and the buzzer made a noise before her voice came through "hello, how can I help you?"

"I'm here to visit someone, my name is y/n y/l/n."

"hold on just a second. " a slight panic creeps up. Does she know? What if they arrest you for hacking into the system? "ah yes I found you. I see you're visiting a new patient here. I'll buzz you in and you have to fill out a form"

"alright." you took a deep breath of relief once the line cuts and the door buzzes open. You walk in and take care of the paperwork, once that was done she gives you a visitor's pass and asked you to wait until one of the nurses comes down to get you.

The big doors swing open and a middle aged woman walks up to the reception with a clipboard. "I swear things are getting worse up at 4. We got a biter." she sighed as she hands over the papers.

"isn't this the 3th attack this month?" the receptionist asks and the nurse nods, "they should up the dosage for those people. Can you please take that girl to visit so Eun? She's the newest arrival, she's on floor 1."

So eun? Right. That was harin's name before she got adopted. That family really stripped her from everything didn't they? " ofcours." she turns to you with a smile and motioned to follow her" Come along. Sorry It took so long. It's been a hectic day." you quickly follow after her as the doors begin to close again. "You're the first visitor for her, we didn't think anyone would come since there aren't any emergency contacts mentioned in her file."

"It's complicated but I'm taking care of it. She had a family but they abandoned her recently. "

The nurse smiled broadly. " I'm glad she still has you then. Being here can take a toll on a person the first few days, it's important that she knows she's not alone in this. "

" I've told her that before. No matter what happens she'll always have me. "

"I don't mean to be rude but what is your relationship to her? Are you family?"

"I Uhm I'm a friend."

"hmm, a friend." she smiled, "or perhaps you're more? It's okay. Love is love, you can't help who you fall for." you smiled at her words and were thankfully she didn't ask anything else, "well here we are. She normally has roommates but they are all participating in classes at the moment so you have some alone time for the next 2 hours."

You thanked her for everything and stood in front of harin's door. You try to control your emotions before you walk in, she doesn't need to see you emotional while she's going through all of this. She needs a shoulder to lean on and you will be that for her. You walk inside the room and see her sleeping, she looks peaceful and you're debating on letting her rest or waking her up. Before you can decide harin shifts around in bed and opens her eyes, looking straight at you with a little frown. "hi there." you spoke softly

"Why do I always dream about you being here?" her voice cracks and you saw the tears well up in her eyes, "It's not fair, please go away." she turns around and faces away from you.

"harin this isn't a dream," you walk around her bed and squated down so you'd be face to face with her, "i'm really here." you tug a hair strand behind her ear and she just stares at you with teary eyes. "i'm here harin. This is real love. I promise you."

She loses the battle and a few tears slip down as she cups your face with one hand and traces her thumb in circles, "H-How did you find me?"

"does that matter?" you lean into her touch and kissed the palm of her hand. "I'm sorry that it took so long but I'll get you out of here, I promise. I'm already working on-"

"don't" she pulls her hand back and shifts to sit up in bed. "this is what I deserve"

"what? No. You don't deserve this." you shook your head and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"I do. I've hurt so many people and never even cared about anything but myself. I deserve to be in here. I deserve what happened to me. "

You wondered if she knew about what happened after the fire. What her 'family' did. You took her hand in yours and started to play with the bracelet you had given her, she's still wearing it. " do you know about your-"

"that they disowned me? Yes. When I woke up I asked to call my grandma but they told me there weren't any contacts and that's when I knew." she sighed.

"you still want me to believe you deserve that? You don't. I'm working on this, I'll get you out and you can stay with me. I'll expose them for what they did. How they treated you and-"

"don't. Let me stay."

"what ? You- you want to stay here?" to say you were shocked was an understatement, you would've guessed she would want to get out immediately.

"yes. I don't want you to go against them. They have too much power, you don't stand a chance against them. Just let me work on myself in here, I'll prove to everyone I can change. When I get discharged we can go out on our first date. I'll have that fresh start I wanted with you."

"are you sure? I already have an amazing lawyer who's looking into things. I can get you out of here, you can still work on yourself without being here."

"there are professionals here that can help me. I know you want to help me but this is what I want. This is my shot at redemption."

"alright. If this is what you want I'll support you. I'll visit as much as possible. Once you have your schedule we can work out which days I visit."

"that works for me." she smiles, "I'm really sorry I dragged you into this. I asked my grandmother if she could get you into baekyeon and in my class. If I just left it at that one meeting you woul-."

"Harin, don't. In the end I made the decision to go didn't I? I don't regret anything because if you didn't ask your grandmother we never would've had a chance together."

"I can't argue with you if you put it that way." she pouted.

"then don't argue with me." you smile and you leaned in until your eyes caught the sight of medication and then the overdose popped into your head making you pull back.

"what? What's wrong" she frowned and followed your gaze, "Oh." she looks down as she catches on to your thoughts. "they give us these pills in the morning. I guess it's to keep us calm? We don't have to take them but they write it down if you don't so they can see who actually needs them and who doesn't."

"were you actually planning to...." you couldn't get it over your lips but you didn't have to, she knew.

"I don't know. I want to say that I knew how much to take but I didn't. It was all pure luck. I don't really want to think about what could've happened, to be honest."

"that's okay, at least for now. I do want to talk about it but only when you're ready."

She nodded and tugged at your hand, "can I get that kiss now?" She asked as she looked down at your lips.

"you don't have to ask" you smiled and leaned in for that much awaited kiss. The moment your lips touched everything felt right again, she was here in your grasp and nothing else matters but that. "just so you know. Once you're discharged from this place you're coming home with me. My aunt and her lawyer are taking care of all the legal stuff."

"so we'd be living together?" She smiled.

"well, my aunt will be there in the beginning so she can get to know you and once she knows she can leave us alone she'll take off again. That were the conditions."

"I look forward to the baby pictures and all the stories." she teased.

"I was a cute baby for your information! But she does have some stories that I'm already dreading." you thought over all the embarrassing moments of your childhood she could tell. "maybe don't ask her in the first few weeks I'm begging you."

"hmm, you'll have to keep my mind off of it then." she smirked.

"Oh I'm sure I'll find a way to keep you busy." you smile, "I did want to ask you about what you want me to call you. Do you want to keep harin or change it back to so eun? Or maybe you can get a new name?"

"harin is fine. So eun is my past, I can't go back to that and if I change my name again my-- they will win. I don't want to give them that satisfaction." her expression changed from sad to determined really quickly once she said that. "they might have disowned me and are revoking the adoption but they can't change my name."

"what about your last name?"

"maybe I can mix my names? How does So Harin sound?"

"perfect." you kiss her hand and she smiles. You look around the room and it feels so empty, "so, what do you usually do around here?"

She chuckled at your attempt of normal conversation, " at the moment I usually talk with a bunch of doctors and psychiatrist so they know what type of therapy I need. They're all nice which makes talking about what I did worse. "

"Well, I'll sneak in a book next time." you wink and she laughs.

"I can have books. This isn't a prison where you need to smuggle stuff in. I am getting my own room soon though. Apparently they want to take me to a different floor, one with more people my age and stuff."

"as long as you don't fall in love with someone else I'm okay with it."

"Oh so you'll ask the staff to relocate me if I do?" She clocked an eyebrow.

"are you saying you'll find someone else?" you fired back.

"nobody would compare to you. You've seen me at my highest and lowest, enjoy it 'cause that' s for your eyes only. No one has seen me the way you have."

"I kind of like the thought of that if I'm being honest."

You stayed until visiting hours were over and promised you'd be back soon. True to your word you made regular visits after harin got her schedule and after a few months of good behavior on harin's part you could go out for a few hours. You mostly took walks in the nearby forest and did have some little make-out sessions in more secluded area's. Eventhough you had planned some cute little picnics harin refused to call it a date, she already planned out what she wanted to do with you when she was discharged and that was going to be your first official date. You didn't mind to call these picnics dates but since harin was so stubborn you agreed to calling them hangouts, as long as you were with her you were fine with anything.

It took a year for her to be discharged from the place. You had gotten yourself a drivers license and borrowed a car from your aunt to Suprise her. She didn't know you got one and were planning this for months but you'd do anything for her. You're leaning against the hood of the car when she walks outside. She stops and takes a second to close her eyes and bask in the sunlight, you can't help but stare at her and fall even more in love.

"will you finally tell me where we're going tonight?" you smile as she walks up to you.

"no. Not yet." she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you close, "hi there." she smiles.

"hi gorgeous." you smile and kiss her, "you ready to leave"

"yes. as Nice as everyone was, I'm ready to start my new life with you." she looks around and frowns, "where's your aunt? Isn't she driving us home?"

Home. You could get used to hearing her say that. "actually," you grab the keys from your back pocket and dangle them in front of her face, "i'm driving. I wanted to be able to pick you up when the time came so I got my drivers licence. Now you can be my passenger princess."

"You're amazing." she smiled and gave you a peck on the lips before pulling back and putting her bag in the trunk with you scolding her for doing it herself. "i'm a big girl i can put it away myself."

You hummed and got in the car together, "are you ready to meet my aunt tonight?" you ask as you pull out the parking lot and drove home.

"I'm nervous but knowing you, you've already told her a lot about me." she smirked as she leaned her head against the headrest while looking at you, "you look really attractive driving."

" whatever is going on in that head, stop those thoughts. I'm driving." you throw a quick glance to see her smile. You took a hand off the steering wheel and placed it on her thigh, "we have all the time in the world now. No need to rush."

"I'm happy you said that because as long as your aunt's home we're not doing anything." she laughed at your small pout.

"define anything. Does it include-"

"nope. Stop those thoughts you're driving." she smiled and you loved how relaxed she looked. For the first time ever you saw her posture falter a little bit, she's just leaning against the window but the harin from a year ago would still have a straight back and a straight face while looking out the window. She's looking at the scenery with a content smile and you're happy she chose to stay and work on herself. it couldn't have been an easy decision to make when she heard you talking about getting her out but she stayed and it worked.

She was finally showing who she was, the girl that she had pushed back all those years. The person you saw when everyone else saw a mean powerful heiress. She was excited in showing people she had changed. jaeun had agreed to meeting up with the both of you in a few weeks, suji hadn't really answered but jaeun had mentioned she'd get her to join. It was an important step for harin to face the people she hurt and to try to make amends with who was willing to listen. she prepared for the worst when she asked you to contact them, not expecting them to agree and now she was looking forward to the meeting. You hated to remind her there was a chance they wouldn't except her apology but she said she was ready for it.

Once you got home you took harin's bags to the spare bedroom, sadly also one of the conditions of your aunt. You did compromise that you could sleep in the same room for the first few nights. As you were walking to her bedroom with some drinks you hear a thud from her room. "What was that? are you okay?" you ran into her room to see her laying down on the bed with a smile.

"yes don't worry. It's just this bed is so comfy compared to the bed I had." she sighed as she stretched out. You laid down next to her and she immediately cuddled into you, laying her head on your chest with a leg thrown over yours.

"I love you" you said as you ran your fingers up and down her back.

"I love you too." she leaned up a little and planted a kiss on your lips, "it's about time I said it isn't it?"

You chuckled, "you wrote it down, that also counts."

"no, not for the first time."

In the end everything worked out for the both of you. You went on your first date and harin got to talk with jaeun and suji. It took some time but the both of them saw how much she had changed, how much she regrets what she did and eventually forgave her. Harin occasionally woke up from nightmares and you always took a walk around the block when that happened. You'd sit down on the couch with hot chocolate and some TV show playing in the background as she talked about her dreams. There were a lot of things that she still had to overcome from her childhood, some things she wouldn't and it would be hard.

In the end harin knew she had a home with you and your aunt. Come to think of it She might be your aunts favorite since she calls her more than you but you didn't mind. It's about time harin felt the love of a parental figure, to have them care about her without any expectations. You slept in separate rooms when your aunt was home most of the time but once she left harin always ended up in your bed. Things slowed down and as the both of you settled into this new life you couldn't wait to see what the future had in store for you two.

masterlist

This is the end of this story🫣 thank you to everyone for reading, sharing and liking❤️ special thanks to @iwendix (I know Suprise mention😁) for reacting on the posts and leaving those comments. They really helped me come back to the story to finish it.

[thoughtsonkm]

What's even the point of taekookers anymore? They aren't fans at this point. I mean if you think everyone in the group are paid actors and you don't even like the show, then what are you watching for? Even if jimin and jungkook aren't anything more than friends, I still like both of them, still like watching them and all of bts' content.

I've seen a lot of taekookers leaving the ship since AYS, sadly they didn't leave the vitriol and instead just turned on jungkook and I guess are basically tae solos?

Idk, I just don't get it. Like imagine not being able to enjoy bts' authenticity because you're too swept up in delusions that everyone is a paid actor like a mentally ill patient in a psychiatric ward screaming at the walls to "protect" someone who would hate your fucking guts if they met you in person. I've just never seen a group so detached from reality outside of literal cults and so hateful and demeaning of the thing they're supposedly a "fan" of. I can't imagine how miserable that fan experience is, like I said, what's even the point?

Anyway, jikook are signing more signatures than when they were active, tae is becoming a hot thiccc bitch in his special unit, joon is putting in the work in his military band (you just know he carries that whole band) counting down the days, yoongi is hopefully resting and surrounded by friends, jin's preparing his album and fighting children, and jhope already has his bags packed. Life is good when you enjoy the people you're a fan of.

Yeah same old idea of not actually being a fan but being so jobless that all you're left with is engaging in fandom wars and bashing humans.

Jikook signing so many autographs and little dedications and the difference between what Jimin writes versus Jungkook is hilarious btw.

[lobotomy-lady]

rant incoming bc I've been spending my downtime at work preparing my taper regime & I'm just thinking about how utterly fucking demented it is that psychiatrists are so uninformed about medication withdrawal. it's literally their JOB to keep up to date with this shit!! like I still can't believe mine recommended I cut my dose in half twice a week then drop off within a month after 15 YEARS of being on this stupid fucking SSRI & having it change my brain & body. we know SSRI wd (along w/AP wd & especially benzo wd) often is faaaaar longer lasting & more dangerous than even fucking fentanyl withdrawal & tapering too fast can literally break you, permanently. it's not just a few weeks of hell but a possibility of a lifetime of total anhedonia, pssd, & a fair chance you might just kill yourself (or even someone else) bc it can make you psychotic even if you've never had those symptoms before. how fucked up is it that mentally ill people have to just do our own research bc we can't trust the people who went to school for like 8 fucking years & get 6 figure salaries NOT to just be useful idiots for big pharma??

it's even more grotesque when you think of all the people who aren't capable of doing this type of self advocacy bc they're just too ill, or bc they're in one of the fucking maximum security prisons we call "psychiatric hospitals", most of which have not progressed whatsoever from the 60s except they've switched from ice pick lobotomies to chemical lobotomies. despite all the evidence of the unbelievable harm they're doing, mentally and physically (patients treated w/APs on average live 20 YEARS shorter than those who are not due to their effects on the body).

and people literally just do not care. mental illness is criminalized, especially if you don't have deep pockets bc god fucking forbid you're sent to a state institution/concentration camp rather than a private one. state asylums are where all possibility of a recovery goes to die. the staff are abusive sociopaths and all they do is forcibly pump you full of meds to make you compliant & physically assault you & treat you WORSE than serial killers on death row. that is not even a slight exaggeration. killers are treated better in prison than patients in these hellholes.

if you want to learn more about anti-psychiatry & why it's a necessary modern civil rights movement I suggest checking on it the websites psychrights.org & madinamerica, they have many well documented horror stories about just what goes on at these facilities & how medication is destroying people's lives.

[ritchiepage2001newaccount]

WHY UNIVERSAL BACKGROUND CHECKS ARE JUST AS UNLIKELY AS EVER, UNFORTUNATELY

I'm a leftist (Libertarian-Socialist), who votes progressive, because I live under an "elected" government, and I had thought I had purged the MSNBC/CNN Nation from my friends list, but apparently not, as my timeline is just chock-full of media-driven hysteria over current events, so here's a primer:

"Liberals" who think their arguments are clever or relevant to the Second Amendment are exhausting.

They are not the left; they are just one half of the good cop/bad cop act of the corporate owned fire-hose of bullshit that is the corporate media, and corporate America's governing criminal cartel/duopoly.

Both cults "I like simple and ineffectual 'solutions', because they make me feel like I'm doing something, and I'm just stinky with fear."

There are over a hundred million legal gun owners, who some want to punish for somebody else's crime.

Well, there are some things to consider.

We've been a heavily armed country since 1621, and yet the epidemic of daily mass-shootings didn't begin until 20 April 1999 (Columbine), at a time when gun ownership was at an all-time low, and five years after Clinton's assault-weapons ban, so maybe guns aren't the variable.

Worth noting: One of the first things the "Pilgrims" did when they betrayed the Native Americans, was disarm "King Phillip" and his men.

Maybe, just maybe, dead school-children are the price of the neoliberalism practiced under the "Washington Consensus" of BOTH right-wing authoritarian parties since the 1980's? When your country offers you no prospects, and you become terrified of the future, what then? Fear can make unstable people do desperate things. Add to that a culture of celebrity, and what could possibly go wrong?

Another factor that goes completely unexamined, is the way Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill emptied our state hospitals onto our streets, and onto families ill-equipped to deal with the sometimes violent mentally ill.

Thank God, the "solution" is so simple…

Also, 84% of NRA members support universal background checks. The problem is, every time a bill comes up for a vote, Democrats add poison pill amendments guaranteeing defeat in the legislature (and the courts), and then they proceed to tell the TV cameras that "once again the GOP and the gun lobby have voted down background checks and defied the will of the people", or some such nonsense.

If you want to watch Dems sabotage universal background checks (while Republicans roll their eyes and face-palm) in real time, go here:

P.S. You can probably guess which one of these three groups I belong to (Hint: It's the one that's growing and actually decides elections):

LaborPartyNow!!!

P S The line, "You don't need 30 rounds to shoot a deer!" is not clever.

The Second Amendment has nothing to do with hunting tools, toys for hobbyists (target shooting), or even weapons for self-defense.

It's about ARMS!!!

It's about the individual citizen's right to arms, so they'll be prepared to join a militia, not the other way around. ‘Well regulated’ at that time, simply meant, ‘efficient.’ In other words, in order for a muster to be efficient, civilians needed to be already armed.

So the "collective rights" argument has a couple of problems that make it quite unhinged from history and reality.

1) As I've mentioned above, Americans have always been relatively heavily armed. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

2) Contrary to what you were probably taught in school, by the time of the Confederate artillery barrage on Fort Sumter, the war over slavery had already been going on for over six years, and was fought entirely by independent volunteer militia's. Fort Sumter was just the beginning of official involvement by government troops. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

3) In what universe do government forces need to have their right to arms protected?

4) Since when do National Guard members keep National Guard arms (Hint: they're kept at the armory, and have been since colonial times)?

5) Obviously, "Liberals" are stupid.

Again: #LaborPartyNow!!!

P P S That was ENTIRELY the point of the first fruits of dissent, the 10 Amendments we've come to call the BILL OF RIGHTS (which have become a beacon to aspiring democrats all over the world), to protect INDIVIDUALS from the government they had just created. #TrueStory

[trans-axolotl]

does anti psych include medications? like if I’m looking to start mental health medications should I be wary of some or is it just about psych wards

Hi anon!

When I talk about antipsychiatry, I am usually critiquing the whole system, from outpatient, inpatient, meds, therapy--every part of it. I believe in psych abolition, which to me means that I think we need to transform our understanding of madness/mental illness/neurodivergence and create new methods of support and care within our communities. This does not mean that I think every single aspect of the current mental health system is always bad or harmful for individual people, but rather just that I'm interested in moving beyond our current fucked up system and the ways that it enables a so much harm.

When it comes to meds, I think about meds in a little bit of a different way than traditional psychiatry. Meds are a tool that some people find helpful, and that others find harmful. Like any other drug, psych meds come with a whole bunch of mental and physical effects, some of which will be desired, some of which will be less desired. Some people try out meds and find a med that has effects they really desire, and they are willing to tolerate the other effects of the med, even if they don't love it. Some people might try out meds and not want any of the mental, emotional, or physical effects that they experience on that med, but are open to other meds. Some people might never want to try meds and refuse all meds. Some people might want to be on meds at certain points of their lives, but not others. Some people might want to use a psych med off label, or in a different way than is prescribed. All of these relationships with medication are real ways that our community is going to engage with meds, and one isn't more valid than any other.

In general, what makes me wary of the way psychiatry engages with medication is that I don't think that most mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people are given the information we need to make an actually informed and free choice. So many of us are put on meds without our consent, whether that's through involuntary hospitalization or other methods of coercion. A lot of other people take meds voluntarily, but are not given all the information about the long-term effects of their medication, or are given false promises that make them think the medication has scientific evidence that shows it's more effective than it actually is. For a lot of people, if they were given accurate information, had more knowledge about FDA regulations for psych meds, or if they knew why chemical imbalance theories have been disproved, they might make different decisions about their medication use. I want mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people to be able to access meds on demand if that's what they want, be given all the information so that we can make the right choices for us, and be respected when we don't want to take medication.

I also am very angry about the way psychiatrists treat unmedicated mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people as a threat. Part of the reason I'm so antipsychiatry is because most psychiatrists seem to operate from a framework where there is no room for us as mad people to exist with our own understandings of our madness. There is so much coercion in the psychiatric system, and our mental health system focuses a lot on concepts of compliance, linear recovery, and being a "good, obedient patient." I think those values are incredibly fucked up, and it's so important to me that mad people are allowed to exist in the many complex ways we exist, without being labeled as a danger just because we aren't interested in medication. Medication is one tool, not a weapon, and I'm tired of psychiatrists weaponizing medication to force and control mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people because they're more interested in making us conform rather than adapting to our individual needs and experiences.

So long story short, medication is a option that everyone will have different experiences with, and it is not inherently bad! I'm just mad at the way psychiatry doesn't give us all the information we need to make decisions, coerces us into making the medication decisions they want, and contributes to stigma against madness that prioritizes "normalcy" over actual support. If you have any questions about specific medications feel free to send another ask and I can link you some resources to learn about the effects and science of that med!

[sophieinwonderland]

I replied to you in rentry form. I don't intend further replies, as your statement that you're "very skeptical of retractors," in response to a court case about a patient's experience of psychiatric abuse, was triggering to me as a psychiatric abuse survivor and cued me to the fact you aren't acting in good faith. You'd rather deny someone's traumatic experience than find a different source. That says a lot. I hope you at least show good faith by posting this ask. rentry. co / 8qczpf2g

Which traumatic experience am I denying? The first one where she said she was sexually abused by her father, or the later one where she claims those memories were implanted?

Because the thing with retractors is that they've given two stories at different times. And the whole False Memory Syndrome narrative is dependent on believing that the witness can't be trusted.

You're trying to frame this as a matter of believing or not believing trauma survivors. But this framing is clearly nonsense when it's more a question of which version of events we believe.

And to be frank, I find your whole shtick here to be a practice in willful ignorance.

You aren't stupid.

You know how abusers tend to operate.

It is possible that Kluft secretly brainwashed a woman into falsely believing that she had been abused by her father. Sure. Technically anything is possible.

But even you have to acknowledge that it's just a possible, if not more so, that she was contacted by and pressured into retracting by her family. That blaming everything on a psychiatrist gave an easy out where her family could deny they abused, and she gets to save face because she didn't lie, the memories were just "implanted."

And the best part about it is that her doctor isn't even allowed to defend himself in the public. He can't reveal details about her therapy sessions or abuse that could protect his name and reputation because all of that is completely confidential. They can say whatever they want about him and he essentially has a gag order.

The lie of False Memory Syndrome is a godsend to abusers. The perfect out.

And I think you know ALL of this! Surely, nothing I just said can be news to you.

End of the day, we don't know the full story in this suit.

You say that you're acting in good faith, but I don't think you are. I think you are smart enough to realize that retractions of abuse accusations can be a result of pressure from abusers. You know the lengths they'll go to in order to protect their reputations.

And I think you're pretending otherwise because pretending to not understand these nuances helps you dismiss papers he's published.

Meanwhile, all of this is moot because Kluft is still regularly cited in academic work because he is, in fact, still regarded as a credible source.

[lowcountry-gothic]

Really interesting article. Some highlights (emphasis mine):

It continues to come as a great surprise for many people to learn that psychiatry’s leading authorities, including the former longtime director of the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), have discarded the “chemical imbalance theory of mental illness”—an idea which has had a profound impact on millions of emotionally suffering people and on our entire society.

While researchers began jettisoning it by the 1990s, one of psychiatry’s first loud rejections was in 2011, when psychiatrist Ronald Pies, Editor-in-Chief Emeritus of the Psychiatric Times, stated: “In truth, the ‘chemical imbalance’ notion was always a kind of urban legend—never a theory seriously propounded by well-informed psychiatrists.” Thomas Insel was the NIMH director from 2002 to 2015, and in his recently published book, Healing (2022), he notes, “The idea of mental illness as a ‘chemical imbalance’ has now given way to mental illnesses as ‘connectional’ or brain circuit disorders.” While this latest “brain circuit disorder” theory remains controversial, it is now consensus at the highest levels of psychiatry that the chemical imbalance theory is invalid.

In Blaming the Brain (1998), Elliot Valenstein, professor emeritus of psychology and neuroscience at the University of Michigan, detailed research showing that it is just as likely for people with normal serotonin levels to feel depressed as it is for people with abnormal serotonin levels, and that it is just as likely for people with abnormally high serotonin levels to feel depressed as it is for people with abnormally low serotonin levels. Valenstein concluded, “Furthermore, there is no convincing evidence that depressed people have a serotonin or norepinephrine deficiency.”

As a journalist, [National Public Radio correspondent Alix] Spiegel did some digging. She talked to Joseph Coyle, Harvard Medical School professor of neuroscience and editor of one of psychiatry’s most prestigious journals, who told her: “Chemical imbalance is sort of last-century thinking....It’s really an outmoded way of thinking.” Spiegel tried to discover why psychiatry has not made greater efforts at publicizing its jettisoning of the chemical imbalance hypothesis. Alan Frazer, chair of the department of pharmacology at the University of Texas Health Science Center in San Antonio, told her that framing depression as a chemical imbalance has allowed patients to feel better about taking a drug and to “feel better about themselves, if there was this biological reason for them being depressed, some deficiency, and the drug was correcting it.” Apparently, authorities at the highest levels have long known that the chemical imbalance theory was a disproven hypothesis, but they have viewed it as a useful “noble lie” to encourage medication use.

I also found this video in which Mitch Prinstein, chief science officer at the American Psychological Association, says that SSRIs probably aren't a placebo affect and that people shouldn't just stop taking them, but suggests that depression is a complex phenomenon which SSRIs only address one facet of and may not be the best approach to, citing different therapy approaches as potentially more effective in certain cases. But then there's this:

Another interesting article that goes farther in linking the use of SSRIs to capitalism and the predatory influence of Big Pharma.

Almost every measure of our collective mental health—rates of suicide, anxiety, depression, addiction deaths, psychiatric prescription use—went the wrong direc­tion, even as access to services expanded greatly.”

During the last three decades, SSRIs have been repeatedly linked to higher suicide risk; found to create a far higher percentage of sexual dysfunction than to positively affect depression (with SSRI success rates no different than placebo rates or even lower than placebo rates); and result in withdrawal reactions that can be severe and persistent.

Big Pharma has spread its money around to psychiatric institutions such as the American Psychiatric Association (APA), the guild of psychiatrists, and to so-called “patient advocacy” groups such as the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI). Big Pharma has also spread millions of dollars around to individual psychiatrists, especially so-called “thought leaders.” One of many psychiatrists exposed by 2008 Congressional hearings on psychiatry’s financial relationship with drug companies was Harvard psychiatrist Joseph Biederman—credited with creating pediatric bipolar disorder—who received $1.6 million in consulting fees from drug makers from 2000 to 2007.

The individual-defect/pathologizing of emotional suffering and behavioral disturbances meets the political needs of those who wish to remain in denial of their connection with emotional suffering and behavioral disturbances. Psychiatry’s biochemical/brain disease explanations for emotional suffering and behavioral disturbances clearly meets the needs of the ruling class. If a population believes that its suffering is caused not by social-economic-political variables but instead by individual defects, this belief undermines political rebellion and maintains the status quo.

“Biological determinism (biologism) has been a powerful mode of explaining the observed inequalities of status, wealth, and power in contemporary industrial capitalist societies. . . . Biological determinism is a powerful and flexible form of ‘blaming the victim.’”

For societal and family authorities, psychiatry has another political role, an “extra-legal police function.” Specifically, a major political role of psychiatry is to control individuals—via involuntary drug and hospitalization “treatments”—who have done nothing illegal but who create tension for authorities. David Cohen, UCLA professor of social welfare, notes: “This coercive function is what society and most people actually appreciate most about psychiatry.”

On another level, psychiatry lives on despite repeated failures and lack of progress because it embraces the worship of technology and the belief that salvation from emotional suffering will come with a new technology.

A lot to think about.

To be clear, I’m not averse to taking medication per se. I’m on OCD meds and I know how quickly I spiral into misery without them. But it’s really frustrating to read all this since it just underlines that we’re really doing nothing about the real underlying problems, and the capitalism really is the root cause of so much of what’s wrong with the world right now.

[ewingstan]

There's something I appreciate about how Sy doesn’t get referred to as having a “real self” outside of how he acts under Wyvern. When he's low on Wyvern he doesn't think of it as being closer to his true personality. Conversely when he's full up on Wyvern he doesn't see his low-formula state as not his true self, he just sees it as himself without the sharpness he values. Even though Wyvern is obviously integral to his identity, its not treated as a measure of how "Sy" he is at any given moment. Its kind of refreshing given how that stuff is usually treated.

There's a persistent idea people often default to when discussing mental states: the idea of a true, integral personality that can be revealed or buried. You'll hear people say patients aren't themselves when depressed, that treatment brings them back to who they "really" are. A lot of our decisions on patient autonomy for those with mental or neurological disorders involve dismissing what people are saying in the moment for what their true self would want: "you only gave a DNR order because you were depressed," "you would want help getting better if you were in your right mind," etc. On the other side, Parkinson's patients will sometimes not take medication they have access to in order to avoid not feeling like themselves. Identity, mental health and psychiatric medications have a complicated relationship that so often gets boiled down to "this is making people lose who they are!" in genre fiction, so its pretty neat to see a more nuanced perspective on it.

[oopsallfictives]

I saw a post the other day that basically said "psych abolition is bad because I'm mentally ill and need treatment". I think OP was overlooking some very important things so I'm gonna talk about those

First of all, psych abolition is a movement by and for psych survivors. We're people who have been through the psychiatric system because we ourselves are mentally ill or traumatized, and who have suffered because of it. A lot of people come to this movement because psychiatry isn't safe for us, and no alternatives exist unless we build them ourselves

Our system finally stopped going to therapy because after how much harm was done to us by psychiatry we can't trust any therapist enough to actually be helped by it. We've been lowkey retraumatizing ourselves for years trying to get help from the same system that did so much harm to our body and minds. Harm that we can't heal on our own, but can't get help for because there are no alternatives

Second of all, this isn't a vibes-based movement. There are actual principles involved here. Patient autonomy, informed consent, the right to refuse treatment, the right to culturally-appropriate healing, the right to define our own experiences, pushing back against over-pathologization, and more. These things are guiding the movement, and will guide the alternatives we build now, as well as what we build in the ashes of psychiatry when it's gone

And to be clear, abolishing psychiatry doesn't mean doing away with everything that's currently encompassed within that system. Therapy and medications aren't going to go away, but the way they're handled is going to have to look a lot different. Anyone seeking mental healthcare of any sort must be informed of the potential risks of that treatment even if it means they might refuse it. If people aren't told the risks they can't give informed consent. They also need to be free to make decisions about their care without being shamed, manipulated, or threatened with a loss of care or being labeled noncompliant. People shouldn't be involuntarily incarcerated in hospitals for the crime of being suicidal or psychotic, and no one should be medicated against their will

Are there people online that will say they're for psych abolition and actually mean they think mental illness isn't real and meds should be gotten rid of? Yeah, probably. There's also a lot of people on twitter who call themselves socialists while advocating for the most right-wing shit you've ever heard of, but that doesn't mean that's what socialism really is

At the end of the day, psych abolition is about creating alternatives to psychiatry so that we can tear it down and replace it with ways to help mentally ill, neurodivergent, and traumatized people without stripping away their rights and autonomy. If you don't understand why that's necessary, you need to listen to psych survivors when we tell our stories

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

{ CHAPTER FIVE }

Summary: Jake's meeting with the doctor doesn't goes as planned, while Emma's confusion over what's happening continues. The boys likewise continue to worry about leaving her there by herself, and she finally gets to meet Steven. Pairing: { eventual } Original Character { Emma Harper } x Jake Lockley, Emma Harper x Steven Grant, && Emma Harper x Marc Spector Contents: mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfort-esque vibes, Steven's first appearance Warnings: severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. mental hospitals. typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of Emma's psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. Author's Note: I recently finished reading Tear Down My Reason by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about Emma and the Boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really AREN'T works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. This series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. Word Count: 1,206 Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sub-aro

The meeting with the doctor doesn’t take long. Jake is quickly informed that he has their records and knows about the DID. Likewise, he tells him not to worry—that his stay won’t be long so long as he’s not a danger to himself upon leaving and follows up with outside support.

This is, of course, not what Jake was hoping to hear.

“I’m not the one who was a danger to myself—that was Marc…” He glowers at the doctor as he gets up to leave.

He's so angry when he gets back to the hallway that he almost forgets to check on Emma, rather, distracted by the damn doctor who is utterly useless.

His eyes snap to the line getting ready to go to dinner and sighing he goes to join the queue that Emma is just coming to the back of.

She brightens as she sees Jake returning, leaving the line to meet him in the middle.

Upon seeing his expression her face falls. “Are you okay?” She asks softly, her face riddled with worry.

Jake, in turn, softens when she speaks, “Yeah, cariño—I’m okay, nothing I can’t handle…”

Of course, this gets just as confused as everything else about this place. Emma takes it to mean that the battle was difficult but that he prevailed. This floods her with relief.

“Why do you think they have us eat if we’re—ya know?” She asks, changing the subject.

“To keep up our strength, you can’t heal if you’re running on empty…”

Emma, of course takes this to mean healing to get to Heaven.

And Jake, can just see her mind working over it. “I promise you’re alive, sweet one…I know that’s confusing right now…”

“But—”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, knowing that this isn’t exactly the place to trust others, but wanting her to know she can trust him.

Emma doesn’t hesitate, immediately nodding. “Yes…”

“Good.” He encourages with a gentle smile. “Then believe me—you will get better and you will leave this place…”

She just can’t wrap her mind around it, even as he nods toward the line of patients slowly filing out for the cafeteria.

She turns to walk with him, her mind such a mess of contradictions and beliefs that overlap. Everything has a significance and things that shouldn’t be possible are commonplace.

She wonders if it’ll ever make sense, but then, it simultaneously already does for her.

Jake wants so badly to reach for her hand but knows he shouldn’t. He can tell she’s lost in thought again the whole way there and even after they get their trays.

She gets so lost, in fact, that she forgets to tell the server what she wants. Or so he thinks until she speaks.

“I don’t want the meat…”

“Do you have a vegetarian meal plan?” The cook asks blandly.

“No?”

“Well then, this is what you’re having.”

Emma frowns, “but I can’t eat it…”

“Come on, you’re holding up the line.”

She asks for extra of the sides even though she truthfully doesn’t feel like she’s got an appetite at all.

As she and Jake find a table he scowls lightly at her.

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian…”

“I’m not—but it looked like if I ate it I’d be sick…”

As another patient passes her and hears, she scoffs, “Sounds like you’re pregnant.”

Emma frowns again, her mind rushing through thoughts again. “But I’m not…”

Her thoughts work over the idea, thinking of how she could be pregnant without having been with anyone.

Jake glares at the woman before turning to Emma, “Ignore her…” He reassures her.

“I’m not hungry…” She grumbles, pushing her tray away.

He sighs heavily, feeling like he could take better care of her than this damn hospital and every employee in it put together.

“Maybe just drink your milk?”

Emma thinks on what she knows of pregnancy, her mind getting confused thinking maybe Jake thinks the other woman was right.

“I’m not pregnant…” she repeats, pausing. “Am I?”

Suddenly, Jake worries, doubting she’s actually pregnant but that she’s that lost in her mind.

“I know you’re not—but the milk will at least give you some protein…” He tries.

Emma sighs, “okay…”

Taking a page out of Marc’s book, Jake opens his own carton, taking a long gulp out of it and hoping she’ll follow suit.

He can see her hands shaking as she reaches for hers, struggling to get it open.

He reaches patiently to help her with it before handing it back.

Emma thanks him softly and takes a drink from it, scrunching up her nose as she swallows it.

“We can’t leave her here by herself…” He mumbles out the side of his mouth as she gets distracted playing with her food aimlessly.

‘I know,’ Marc is the first to reply.

‘I’m not sure what we can do—‘side from giving ‘er our number…’ Steven adds.

Like a lightbulb of his own, Jake turns to the side, “That might be it, Steven…”

Emma perks up, already tuned in, “do I get to meet him soon?”

‘Is it strange I’m a bit nervous to meet her? Not like anxious, ‘ve course, not like scared, but y’know—nervous?’ Steven rambles quietly.

Jake grins lightly, giving Emma’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Maybe after dinner—if you eat a couple bites of your vegetables…”

It feels like a dirty trick, but it’s the only way he can think to get her to eat anything.

Immediately, Emma rushes to take a big mouthful, making a face as she chews but swallowing nonetheless. And then she goes for another.

‘Does she really want t’ meet me that badly?’ Steven asks anxiously in the headspace.

‘Apparently so…’ Marc replies.

‘Oh god, I hope I don’t let ‘er down…’

Emma clears all of her vegetables and half her mashed potatoes before stopping.

Jake can’t help but watch warmly, feeling like this might be up there with some of his greatest accomplishments.

He eats some of his own tray before they’re called to head back, admittedly not wanting to relinquish control of the body to Steven.

When they get back everyone seems to head toward the day room to watch TV before the final group of the day.

Jake hangs back, Emma likewise following his lead.

She watches him anxiously, playing with her fingers.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Jake asks, sneaking a soft touch to her face.

Emma nods quickly, watching in awe as he stiffens, his face contorting and then settling.

When Steven comes forward, he offers her the softest smile, “hello, love…”

Emma immediately launches herself at him, engulfing him in a tight hug causing a gust of breath to punch out of him.

As if remembering what Marc said about not being supposed to do that she retreats, biting her lip nervously.

“Hi, Steven…” She mumbles quietly.

“Oh, bollocks…” He breathes. “Don’t think you’re meant to fall in love in these places…”

Emma’s eyes only shy away, rolling her lips in causing her dimples to dip into her cheeks.

‘Think we’re in trouble, boys…’ Jake speaks once more.

‘I hate to say it—but you might be right…’ Marc agrees.

[sweetbillwriting]

This Is Bad, Billy

Part 3 - Life Is Too Short

Description: 1961. Joanie is a dreamer. She dreams of Hollywood, fashion and handsome men. Her favorite is the actor Billy Skarsgård. When she works as a volunteer at the hospital she meets him in an unexpected way and comes closer to him than she thought was possible.

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, here called Billy. He's inspired by real life Bill but also the character Clark Olofsson in the Netflix series Clark.

Setting: This story is set in the 60s L.A and a smaller town close to L.A.

Warnings: 18+, historical preferences, mental health problems, mental illness, abuse, smut, sexism, mentions about racism.

Billy moved around my room and looked at my stuff. He had thrown his leather jacket on my bed but kept his leather shoes on and succeeded in imprinting a brown footstep on my light green rug. He stopped in front of my ceiling high shelf full of extravagant porcelain dolls. I had always been proud of my collection but now I felt childish when a man like Billy looked at them.

"Is it like a collection?" He asked, pointing to them with a finger while he turned around and looked at me.

"It is. Many of them are handmade, my father bought them from his trips to different countries."

Billy made a face I couldn't read and then laughed a little.

"Aren't they quite scary? Like, watching you while you're sleeping?" He said with a creepy voice, walking slowly towards me with a hunched back and wiggling fingers. I giggled at him and moved side to side in embarrassment.

"They aren't alive, stupid," I said but cringed a little when I heard my own words. Of course he knew that. Billy smirked and continued to look around. It felt like I had killed a moment but pretended to be unbothered and sat down on my bed. He looked at my photos that stood on my vanity table. There were some from birthday parties and graduations and the picture of me with my father at my high school graduation had caught his interest. He looked at the photo and then at me.

"Is this your dad?"

I just nodded and silently wondered why he asked. Billy made a face again that I couldn't read and put the photo frame down, then he smiled charmingly at me.

"I don't know, it's something about you… It feels like you have potential," he said and sat down on the bed next to me.

"What do you mean by that?" I smiled and played with a curl that had fallen down from my updo. Billy shrugged his shoulders and looked at my face, examining.

"You can do better than this. You're much more interesting than this," he said, spinning his finger in the air.

"You're not that boring girl. Not that kind of girl that lets men run the show."

It was odd hearing a man say such a thing. I've just heard it from women my own age, girls that wanted more from life than being a housewife. I smiled at Billy and looked him in the eyes.

"My daddy thinks I should be a doctor like him. But… I'm not so good at such things."

"And why should you do what he wants? Okay, he has higher thoughts about you than being a man's servant but he wants you to be in his world, follow his rules."

I nodded and dragged my fingers over the back of Billy's hand which laid on his thigh. He took my hand in his and searched my eyes again.

"You should be in L.A. I can help you, you know."

I looked at him with big eyes of fascination but also of doubt. He was a psychiatric patient.

"I will be out of the ward soon. Trust me. I have the hearing in like a week."

"The hearing? For what?" I asked confused and looked at him with furrowing brows.

"Just a bullshit thing that they locked me up for."

I nodded a little bit but after a minute I took courage to ask what it was. Billy laughed embarrassed as he dragged his hand over his face.

"You will judge me."

"No. I promise."

"It's with a girl," he said and looked at me examining. He probably believed that I couldn't handle hearing that he had been with other girls. I nodded and looked at him curiously even if I was afraid of what he would say.

"I went down on a girl at a restaurant." He looked away and rubbed his eye in discomfort.

"Went down like..?" I asked and swallowed hard. Did he mean what I thought?

"I licked her pussy."

"Oh… But.. Is that enough to get locked in at a psychiatric ward?" I was embarrassed to hear his confession but was also confused because it sounded like an awful thing but not enough to be a lunatic.

"I have a history… I've been there before."

"For what?" I don't know what gave me the confidence to ask but it all sounded strange.

"Depression. Schizophrenia. Autism. Nymphomania. Anger issues. Manic episodes. Psychosis. Delusions. Psychopathy."

He smiled at me but didn't look happy, more like he was challenging me.

"But… You're all normal?"

Billy laughed and looked at our hands that still were wrapped around each other.

"Am I? I don't know. I've heard there is something wrong with me since my teens."

"Why?"

He pulled the corner of his mouth down and shrugged.

"Because I don't fit in. Because they can't control me. Because life is too fucking short."

I didn't know what to say. I had never believed Billy was one of the disturbed people but I had never thought about what had actually made him get admitted. I wanted to believe doctors, I wanted to believe they knew more than us others but watching Billy I couldn't deny something was wrong.

I dragged my other hand up over his arm and Billy looked at it then up to my face and leaned closer.

"Life is too short," he whispered and kissed me. I continued to hear his words in my head as we kissed and let them guide me. Guide me up in his lap, pushing him back in the bed and continue to kiss him. Billy dragged his hands down my back and squeezed my bare cheeks. His hands were big and warm and made me moan into his mouth. Life was too short. I dragged off my slip so I was just dressed in my white underwear.

Billy leaned back to be able to look at my nakedness and smiled at me.

"Beautiful girl… I think you know what I want to do to you…"

I smiled but swallowed hard. My parents were at the end of the hallway. They both had taught me to be a good girl, to save myself for marriage but I knew it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted Billy to be as close as possible and live without my father's rules.

It went fast, so fast I didn't really realize what was happening but it didn't scare me, I wanted to be in that bubble Billy created. I touched the naked skin he exposed to me, dragged my hands down his muscular back and felt with my fingertips his smooth skin and the hairs around his nipples and the trail from his belly button. He was a beautiful man, tall, slender but with all the masculine tributes a girl could ask for. I wasn't embarrassed, not even unsure what to do, something else took over and I pulled my panties down so his hands could explore me even more.

Billy smiled a little and spread my legs so he could see between my legs. I was just as wet as on our first date and it made Billy bite his lip. He dragged his hand up my thigh and then made small patterns with his fingertips between my legs and over my folds. I breathed heavily and looked at him teasing me with a boyish smile. After a while he dragged his fingers up and he found a spot that made my whole body tingle and made my leg jerk.

"Oh!" I said but it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it. The feeling took over and I let him continue.

"That's it… just let it happen…" whispered Billy and at the same time he started to do fast, harder circles over the spot. The sensation became stronger and stronger and I felt it take over my body and soul. When I moaned loudly Bill put a hand on my mouth and smirked lovingly towards me.

"Don't let your parents hear us…"

I would have probably giggled if it was in another situation but I was occupied with coming down from my high. Billy pulled down his white briefs and when I opened my eyes he stood on his knees in front of me with his hard member pointing at me.

"I hope I don't scare you…" said he softly but dragged his hand erotically over his hard on. I didn't know where to look. I wanted to look at it, watch him touch himself but it felt so exposing even if he chose to take his briefs off.

"We can stop if you want to?" He said and dragged his hands over my thighs that were on each side of him.

"No… No. I want to." I said because I really did. Yes, I was nervous but I would be later too. I wanted it now so I took the chance. Billy took hold of his dick and slowly pushed into me. It hurt a bit but it was also a new kind of pleasure and with two fingers in my mouth he started to thrust in and out of me.

×××

"Was that it?" I asked him dumbfounded and looked up at the ceiling with the sheet around me.

"I'm sorry… I came too fast…" he said embarrassed and dragged his hand over his face while lying on his stomach next to me. He laid naked and I looked at his bum, his cheeks were round and smooth and he had deep dimples on his back. I smiled at the view even if I was a bit disappointed that our love making had ended so quickly.

"You don't feel… Sticky?" He suddenly said after a few minutes of silence. I knew what he meant. His semen dripped out of me slowly but I didn't know what to do about it. Maybe he would take offense if I ran to the toilet to clean myself up.

"A little," I just said and looked up at the ceiling.

"You know, you can go freshen up. I guess you might want that?" He didn't say it meanly but he sounded like it was obvious and I felt stupid and so I left my room and ran to the bathroom without answering him. The bathroom was between my room and my parents' room but at that moment I didn't even think about how they could come out and see me naked with cum on the inside of my thighs. I just thought about peeing because as soon as I stood up I realized how badly I needed it.

Billy sat on the edge of the bed fully dressed when I came back to my room. He smiled at me when he saw me naked and licked his lips.

"I wish I could stay… But I must go back before they notice I've disappeared."

I looked at him disappointedly and pulled on my slip that was laying on the floor. I really had wanted to just snuggle a bit but didn't say that to him. He looked at me where I stood with my head bent playing with my fingers and with a small smile he dragged me down in his lap.

"Thank you… For tonight. I promise the next time… Will be better." He said it jokingly but I could see the embarrassment in his face. "And maybe we can snuggle a bit then too? I will try to come earlier tomorrow. Okay?"

I giggled and hugged him around his neck. It was insane that I had Billy Skarsgård coming to my bedroom like this. It felt like something I could just dream about but here he was and we had just made love. Had sex. I was really a woman now and I just wanted Billy as my man.

"So tomorrow?” He asked sweetly and played with the edge of my slip.

"Tomorrow," I said and leaned closer to him so he could kiss my lips.

×××

He had come to me, night after night. We made love, cuddled and talked about my future. Billy had made a plan for me. After his hearing he would call his old agent that also worked with models and then they would arrange it so that all three of us could meet in my little town. Billy was sure the man could help find me a contract at an agency then he himself could help me get an apartment in L.A. I was overwhelmed over how much Billy wanted to help me and my dreams about luxury and a Hollywood handsome boyfriend felt scarily close.

We kissed deeply in bed while I fantasized about our future in L.A. Without my parents close I would become a bleached blonde. As blonde as I could become and buy sexy lingerie and wear lipstick that shifted to orange. I would be a model.

"Hi, I'm Joan Woods, model."

I tried it in my head and it sounded so good.

"I'm a model and this is my actor boyfriend Billy Skarsgård." Or even better; husband. I would get everything in life I've ever wanted.

Billy crawled down between my legs and kissed my folds like they were my lips. I looked down at him and giggled softly. He had never given me oral sex before but I didn't even get nervous. It was just so natural. He looked up at me with a hooded gaze and licked between my folds and I spread my legs more to see what he was doing. Billy smirked at me and then worked his tongue faster all the way up to that spot that made me see stars. He worked his way between that spot to my opening and licked up and down with a fast tongue. I had just started to get really worked up when he moved away and harshly thrusted into me. I moaned loudly both in pain and pleasure.

"I want you on all four," he said after just a few strokes and as the good girl I was I did as told and he thrusted into me from behind just as hard. He worked his hips hard and skilled and I couldn't stop myself from moaning louder and louder. We were so deep in our own bubble that we hadn’t noticed the door opening. I continued to moan loudly while Billy breathed loudly watching his member move in and out of me roughly. For every stroke his member became more and more shiny with our juices.

"Rupert!!" Screamed my mother at my father which caused me to look up at the door where she stood with her fluffy robe. She looked horrified and so did I when I realized what she was seeing. Just then Billy came and his cum dripped out from my pussy and down on the bed cover.

"Joan! Joan!!" Screamed my mother with a cry in her voice.

"Mom?" I said with a small voice. I felt eleven again but with a big penis inside of me and his cum dripping. Billy continued to breathe heavily but started to dress quickly when my mother once again screamed after my father. I should have stood up and put on clothes but the shock made me stay in the same position.

"Dress before your dad comes! You… Silly girl! I didn't raise you like this!" Screamed my mother who threw my robe at me. She looked at Bill zipping up his pants with a judging, angry look.

"Rupert!" She screamed even more upset and it finally seemed to wake my father up. He looked in through my door in his striped pajamas and saw me sitting on the bed in my robe while Billy, in a panic, put on his shoes by the window, ready to jump down the window again. His light green button down hung open over his white t-shirt while he had already thrown out his jacket from the window. My dad stood quietly looking at the scene, obviously he could put two and two together and his eyes darken when he looked at Billy.

"You…!" Hissed my father towards him while Billy had one leg out the window.

"Good evening Dr. Woods, time for me to go," said he cockily and gave him a salute. My father ran up to him believing he could catch Billy before he jumped out. It was impossible and I couldn't see how my dad would be able to do something more than that towards Billy. Billy was much more muscular and could probably hold my dad down with one hand.

Billy jumped out from the window, just giving me a final smirk. My dad screamed after him, ugly words I never heard him use before then he turned to me with an equally dark look.

"And you, young lady… I will lock you in here until you have stopped being such a stupid… disgusting… Whore," he hissed and put a finger against my chest like he had wanted to shoot me if he could. I swallowed my tears and looked at my mother who stood with her head bent. Even she reacted to the word he used. Whore. Whore.

×××

Everything changed after that. My parents didn't want to talk to me, not even look at me and it felt like I was just a ghost in their home. But I had changed too. Of course I could understand it must have been traumatic for my parents to see what was happening between me and an unknown man but I never believed they would shut me out in the way they did. I would have believed they would be angry at me, scream and threaten to take away money and other conveniences but instead they had talked over my head for a week and didn't seem to care if I got home from work okay or not.

I had continued to work at the psychiatric ward but I didn't see Billy anywhere. I believed for several days that he had run away and left me behind until I actually asked Nurse Larsen. At first she didn't want to answer but then sighed and told me anyway. Billy was moved to isolation because of a manic episode. Something didn't feel right with me with that explanation because I didn't see Billy have any mental illnesses at all. I also hadn't learned what the isolation was for and after almost a week of not seeing him I took courage to ask a male caretaker I'd seen Billy with. We stood at the staff's yard and he smoked a cigarette with heavy eyes. He looked around to see so no one was listening.

"He isn't in isolation," he said and looked down at the ground. It actually looked like he cared and I wondered silently if he was the one helping Billy out at night.

"They gave him electric shock treatment so his brain is just mush right now…"

I looked at the man with horror and he looked up at me with kind dark brown eyes.

"He will be okay, after a while. Just lose some memories and… rebelliousness."

"Has he gotten it before?" I asked carefully. I knew I didn't have the right to that information but it seemed like the man felt a need to talk about it too.

"I think in Sweden. When he was young. They are worse than here than it sounds. I think he ran away from this institution and in some way succeeded to take a ferry here. And then he became Billy to all of the world."

I nodded with wonder. It was a sad story but also full of hope. Maybe his story was why he was so eager to help me come to L.A.

"I want to see him," I said determined but the man just laughed a little.

"He will be locked in for a long time. And he wouldn't want you to see him like that. With empty eyes and drool on his shirt."

I swallowed hard and felt my heart beat with worry for him.

"When can I see him, you think?"

The man looked out over the yard and then at me. He took a deep drag.

"They canceled his hearing indefinitely. Because of his "episode". They’ll do everything to make him seem like the worst maniac. Don't ask me why. Maybe jealousy? White old men, you know. My people know all too much about them," he smirked bitterly but then continued.

"I'm not sure we will see him again. They will probably move him into a locked institution. Maybe he will even be isolated for the rest of his life…" he said defeated and sighed. I stood for a long time and watched him before I started to sob. The man looked at me a second but then took a deep drag again.

"He is a good man, just too colorful for this world. Like many of the patients here," he said with a low voice before stubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his scuffed shoe and left me alone on the yard.

×××

It smelled of roast chicken when I got home. Lucky for me I still received food even if my parents seemed to want to forget about my existence. It smelled heavenly. I looked into the kitchen where my mother stood making a fruit salad for dessert.

"It smells great, mom," I tried and took off my coat and went into her. She didn't answer, just continued to chop a banana.

"Mom?" I said to see if she reacted at all but it didn't seem like it. It was like I didn't even exist.

"Mom, please talk to me, please! I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry! But I love Billy! And we're going to move to L.A. and…" I said it with a high upset voice that must have upset and stressed my mom because instead of slicing the banana she cut her finger and made a pained, shocking sound before moving to the sink to hold it under running water.

"Mom!" I said again like I hadn't even seen her injury.

"Yes?!" She screamed angrily at me and turned around. I had rarely seen my mother mad so her sudden outburst scared me a bit.

"Please talk to me," I said with a small voice. She looked at me with an angry expression at first but it soon got defeated. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling to hold her tears in.

"Can't you understand? You can be pregnant and then your life will be destroyed. He is mentally ill! Insane! He can't help you with a child. Joanie, what if you're pregnant?"

She looked at me with glassy eyes while blood from her finger dotted the kitchen floor. I stood in silence and felt a lump in my stomach grow. Or was it a child? I didn't know. My mom was actually right this time, I couldn't have a baby.

"When did you have your… period?" She whispered like she was afraid my father would hear even if he wasn't home.

"...oh, now?"

My mom gave me a confused look but then relaxed and even laughed a little.

"Well then you can't be pregnant?"

She said and shook her head towards me. First it didn't connect for me, I had never really needed to think about such things then I remember the biology lessons. I smiled a bit relieved and looked at my mother again who laughed a little again and I joined her. She took a deep breath and looked at me seriously.

"I'm really disappointed in you, Joan. I understand… He is handsome. So tall! But… You must think about your future. He can talk the talk but he is mentally ill."

I looked down and saw her finger bleeding and took a napkin to help her at the same time I thought about what she said. Billy wasn't mentally ill. Or was he? I actually didn't know and his promises sounded so good but now he was locked up somewhere.

We stood close together by the sink while I held pressure on her finger.

"When your father gets home…" she said worriedly and looked at me. I nodded sadly. I knew what she wanted to say. When my father got home she had to ignore me again. I looked at her questionably. I really hoped what Billy had said was true because I really didn't want to become like my mother.

×

[starblaster]

I'm not trying to be rude here but sometimes you antipsychiatry people blur the line between actual anti-psychiatry and anti-nurse/anti-doctor sentiments and it makes it hard to side with your ideas. Nurses and doctors aren't cops, they actually care about their patients and want to do what's best for them. The ones who don't are in the minority. It honestly pains me as someone who works in medicine to see you people lashing out at the people actually trying to help you.

something you need to understand about me, the actual human being who runs this blog, is that i live in a city that practically fucking worships its hospitals. i work for a university whose connected teaching hospital is such an integral employer here that nearly my entire neighborhood works for it in some capacity. the environment here is so heavily pro-nurse and pro-doc that you're labeled a bigot for criticizing anything to do with the medical system, even the stuff you, anon, apparently seem to agree with.

the organizer of our (one and only) local support group for medical violence and malpractice survival gets literal hate mail addressed to his home because he has a yard sign in front of his house with the university hospital’s malpractice statistics on it.

if we're going to be bashed and beaten back for speaking up about the obvious times we were wronged, why shouldn't we then go for the jugular of this entire corrupt system? seriously, why the fuck shouldn't we?

you act like you think abolitionists would just let people die who rely on medical intervention, you act as if we're trying to pull the rug out from everybody with an overnight collapse of the medical and psychiatric systems. why do you have to go to such extremes?

and you say "nurses and doctors aren't cops" and then use the exact language to defend them as bootlickers do when arguing "it's just a few bad apples" so forgive me if i offend you in saying this but you are not a special exception. the "people actually trying to help" me are my fellow survivors of medical and psychiatric violence. doctors and nurses may have hard jobs, some doing them with altruistic intentions, but that doesn't excuse them from their positions of power and it never will.

[george-weasleys-girl]

GWG Ramblings (strap in friends, this is a long one).

Shock Me Sane

Mental Healthcare in the Harry Potter World

Warnings: discussion of mental illness, photo of 1950s asylum, couple of curse words

~•~

What sort of resources are available for mental illness in the magical community?

I think a lot about this as I draw closer to the final battle of the Second Wizarding War and its aftermath in the North Star Series.

And, not just from the perspective of George losing Fred, but the community at large. This is a society that's been living in terror for three years before ending it in a horrific, bloody battle. (Not to mention there's an entire generation who've already ridden this ride once before).

~•~

I don't care how badass someone might be. No one walks away from that type of long-term trauma unscathed. Which brings us back to the question: What sort of mental health support was available in the magical world?

On the fourth floor of St. Mungo's is the Janus Thickey Ward for patients with permanent spell damage.

I've always found this oddly specific, indicating that the ward only accepts people whose minds have been irreversibly damaged through magical means. And, indeed, all the patients mentioned, both past and present, fit this bill.

So, what about those dealing with mental illnesses that aren't the result of magic? Who do they turn to for help?

Before determining what, if any, mental healthcare is available to them, we need to look at how mental illness was defined.

It wasn't. Not really.

There's not a lot of differentiation when it comes to psychiatric disorders, whether magically induced or not. Someone is either mad or not mad.

So, the question is, where did they draw the line between the two?

We definitively know that hearing voices is considered a bad thing.

"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

Again, interesting wording.

"...even in the wizarding world."

Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I get the impression that far more passes for normal (or at least eccentric) than does in the muggle world. Either that or madness (to use their terminology) is so stigmatized that few talk about it, except in jest.

Most likely, it's both.

To get a clue as to how the magical world viewed mental illness, we can look at Neville Longbottom's behavior regarding his parents.

Neville spends most of the series telling people his parents were killed in the First Wizarding War when, in fact, they were institutionalized in St. Mungo's mental ward. Why would he do that? Why would he hide the truth? There are one of two possibilities. Either he's a pathological liar (which we know he isn't), or he's shamed into silence by the stigmatization of mental illness within the magical community.

Sure, his grandmother chastised him over it because his parents sacrificed their sanity for a noble cause. But what if they'd been born with schizophrenia or developed depression or PTSD from something other than magical torture? Would she still have the same attitude? Would she still speak of them proudly?

Well, we know she was incredibly critical of Neville, frequently claiming, often publicly that he lacked the talents his parents possessed while at the same time, relentlessly pressuring him to make her look good, "uphold the family honor."

So, take that as you will.

~•~

As far treatment goes, there seems to be very few options available.

There's the Calming Draught that was used to calm a person down after they suffered a shock, trauma, or emotional outburst. Madam Pomfrey administered it to Hannah Abbott when she broke down during her Herbology exam. The effects are temporary, and if brewed incorrectly, it can induce uncontrollable sobbing.

The second is Shock Spells, the magical equivalent to the controversial practice of electro-shock therapy in the muggle world. We don't know much about them, other than they're used to treat mental illness at St. Mungo's. Their true effects are unknown.

Though, just between you and me, I'm more than a little skeptical, but also not surprised that shock therapy is a common treatment, considering that St. Mungo's mental ward is set up like a 1950s insane asylum where patients were all lumped together in one large room with little to no privacy or dignity. (Because, in the 50s, people with psychiatric disorders were deemed defective, so why bother?)

It's no damn wonder that Neville was afraid to tell people the truth about his parents.

Photo of a 1950s asylum.

~•~

And then there's this gem.

"Is YOUR portrait having an existential crisis, endlessly worrying about its role and use in this big bad world? We can help. With our trained psychotherapists available for house calls, we will soon have your portrait singing and dancing for your amusement. Sign up today to avoid disappointment!"

"Specialist treatment from the PROFESSIONALS"

This reads more like a sales pitch from a slimy used car salesman instead of a genuine offer of help from caring, compassionate therapists.

When I read the ad, this is the sort of thing I envision. It doesn't exactly engender much trust.

And yet, even without the snake oil vibe and their 1950s attitude toward mental illness, I still can't imagine that psychotherapy would be a popular or trusted option available for the magical community.

Let's hammer the final nail in the coffin, shall we?

Think back to this exchange between Harry and Ron in OOP while visiting Arthur in St. Mungo's.

"Are they doctors?" he asked Ron quietly. "Doctors?" said Ron, looking startled. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're healers."

It's obvious that muggle healthcare isn't very highly regarded. So, I doubt his (and most other magical people's) opinion of muggle psychotherapy would be much better.

Then, there's this comment from Snape.

"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter. Or at least most minds are... It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly."

Considering Voldemort's frequent use of it as a torture device, the idea of someone "getting inside people's heads," even without the use of Legilimency, is probably a frightening prospect to the magical community.

Another quote from Snape:

"Read it, control it, unhinge it. In the past, it was often the Dark Lord's pleasure to invade the minds of his victims, creating visions designed to torture them into madness. Only after extracting the last exquisite ounce of agony, only when he had them literally begging for death would he finally kill them."

A very frightening prospect, indeed.

~•~

So, what does all the mean for the magical community in Britain?

It's not pretty.

The most common mental health diagnoses seen in survivors of war are PTSD, depression, anxiety, acute stress disorder, and complicated grief.

That last one is going to be a big one for George. (mini soapbox rant ahead)

That's why it irritates me to no end when people say that George would never let his grief over Fred keep him down for long. That'd he'd bounce back within a couple of months.

Bull-fucking-shit.

He's suffering twin loss, which is considered the most painful and debilitating grief a person can experience, on top of everything else.

Nobody springs back from that in a couple of months. Not even Fred could do that, if the tables were turned.

(soapbox rant over)

~•~

I had a much different ending in my head, but I didn't write it down, and then I went off on my little rant (which I didn't intend originally) and forgot what I wanted to say.

So I'll end with this. Just because the bloodshed has ended doesn't mean the war is over. The first half of war is fighting the enemy. The second half is fighting yourself.

A dark and difficult thing even with a decent mental health system in place.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @kaysau2510 @sierraluvz @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass

[ritchiepage2001newaccount]

WHY UNIVERSAL BACKGROUND CHECKS ARE JUST AS UNLIKELY AS EVER, UNFORTUNATELY

I'm a leftist (Libertarian-Socialist), who votes progressive, because I live under an "elected" government, and I had thought I had purged the MSNBC/CNN Nation from my friends list, but apparently not, as my timeline is just chock-full of media-driven hysteria over current events, so here's a primer:

"Liberals" who think their arguments are clever or relevant to the Second Amendment are exhausting.

They are not the left; they are just one half of the good cop/bad cop act of the corporate owned fire-hose of bullshit that is the corporate media, and corporate America's governing criminal cartel/duopoly.

Both cults "I like simple and ineffectual 'solutions', because they make me feel like I'm doing something, and I'm just stinky with fear."

There are over a hundred million legal gun owners, who some want to punish for somebody else's crime.

Well, there are some things to consider.

We've been a heavily armed country since 1621, and yet the epidemic of daily mass-shootings didn't begin until 20 April 1999 (Columbine), at a time when gun ownership was at an all-time low, and five years after Clinton's assault-weapons ban, so maybe guns aren't the variable.

Maybe, just maybe, dead school-children are the price of the neoliberalism practiced under the "Washington Consensus" of BOTH right-wing authoritarian parties since the 1980's? When your country offers you no prospects, and you become terrified of the future, what then? Fear can make unstable people do desperate things. Add to that a culture of celebrity, and what could possibly go wrong?

Another factor that goes completely unexamined, is the way Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill emptied our state hospitals onto our streets, and onto families ill-equipped to deal with the sometimes violent mentally ill.

Thank God, the "solution" is so simple…

Also, 84% of NRA members support universal background checks. The problem is, every time a bill comes up for a vote, Democrats add poison pill amendments guaranteeing defeat in the legislature (and the courts), and then they proceed to tell the TV cameras that "once again the GOP and the gun lobby have voted down background checks and defied the will of the people", or some such nonsense.

If you want to watch Dems sabotage universal background checks (while Republicans roll their eyes and face-palm) in real time, go here:

P.S. You can probably guess which one of these three groups I belong to (Hint: It's the one that's growing and actually decides elections):

LaborPartyNow!!!

P S The line, "You don't need 30 rounds to shoot a deer!" is not clever.

The Second Amendment has nothing to do with hunting tools, toys for hobbyists (target shooting), or even weapons for self-defense.

It's about ARMS!!!

It's about the individual citizen's right to arms, so they'll be prepared to join a militia, not the other way around. ‘Well regulated’ at that time, simply meant, ‘efficient.’ In other words, in order for a muster to be efficient, civilians needed to be already armed.

So the "collective rights" argument has a couple of problems that make it quite unhinged from history and reality.

1) As I've mentioned above, Americans have always been relatively heavily armed. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

2) Contrary to what you were probably taught in school, by the time of the Confederate artillery barrage on Fort Sumter, the war over slavery had already been going on for over six years, and was fought entirely by independent volunteer militia's. Fort Sumter was just the beginning of official involvement by government troops. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

3) In what universe do government forces need to have their right to arms protected?

4) Since when do National Guard members keep National Guard arms (Hint: they're kept at the armory, and have been since colonial times)?

5) Obviously, "Liberals" are stupid.

Again: #LaborPartyNow!!!

P P S That was ENTIRELY the point of the first fruits of dissent, the 10 Amendments we've come to call the BILL OF RIGHTS (which have become a beacon to aspiring democrats all over the world), to protect INDIVIDUALS from the government they had just created. #TrueStory