#it's somewhere around this point that all previous therapists/psychiatrists just...give up

[march-for-no-reason]

.

No, you are not being difficult...but your mind is. [yes you totally are] The plus side, it’s helping, for now. It’s reached that point again where therapist and I clash, and they cannot give me a sufficient reason to concede anything further.  They always say that I’m overthinking, using too much jargon...Why is it so structured? Why big words? Could you simplify it? Yes. Okay.  Okay, it’s clear but...can you just state it as is, how you feel, and not...so technical.  Er. No. That’s as much as I can boil down. I don’t know what you want, this is how I’ve always been. Is it that odd to have structured thought if you want it to come out of your mouth? It’s either non-communicable abstract half-thoughts, or translated into coherent sentences. There is no in-between. Is it such a crime to be actually...think in an orderly fashion?  It’s difficult, (yeah I know) and she concedes that this has helped me so much over the years, but ‘could you say what you think, without the rationalization’. Um. No.  She pressed me, it came out, even more ‘technical’ as she claimed. Tried to stop me part way because I was thinking it too much again, allegedly. I interrupted and just talked. I asked her what part is unclear, if she had clarification questions. No, I was quite thorough and clear, concise this time. The unspoken part lingers heavily - that’s not how ‘normal’ people speak. She keeps trying to tell me to not worry about being ‘normal’, but keeps telling me to speak in a ‘normal’ fashion. Squeezing those half-thoughts into words. That was painful. Shaking, crying, and difficult to breath. She tells me to make eye contact. I can’t, I know I’ll break down if I do, it was already a chore to control it. I can do it sometimes, far more difficult under stress, why is this such a...mandatory part of communication. I’m not mumbling, I’m not incoherent. Just overwhelmed. Your method of thinking is distressing you, look, you, it hinders communication, you can’t breath....Yeah, I don’t think it’s the thought process. But it could be?  ... I’m not anti-recovery, I hate the stress and distress it brings me. It’s the frustration of being quite clear - yeah, over-explaining some times, but still not understood. What more do you want from me? Clarifications? Questions? Nope, I understand but I don’t comprehend. SO WHY IS IT SO WRONG WHEN I DO IT? I’m not comparing myself to some standard of normal, I’m not looking at other people and feeling inadequate compared to them, the background processes are tiring. That’s it. I can’t just shut them off.  Have you tried to? (Yes.) Try interacting without all that, it would be so much easier. (Duh.)  Yeah, I can’t function. I become mute, I get rooted to the spot, I short circuit. Try to...not?  Please elaborate. Grounding, mindfulness?  Yeah. No. That doesn’t help with the urgency of the task at hand, nor does it resolve the issue. I’m just stuck. Syntax error. BSOD. More information required. Nothing much, just, clear, literal instructions.  I had to write out an entire page deciphering ‘You didn’t try [hard enough] to help [at doing task] [well], in a way that my sister understands. The youngest was upset, screaming at her. Amy was in the middle of helping, and then went to pick up the phone, dealt with it quickly, and came back, by then I stepped in and finished the task. She got hung up on the ‘try’ and ‘hard enough’ because she did, and it’s not as if the phone call was expected nor should be just ignored. I had to explain, after much thought myself, that our sister was just upset at the gross wad of shower drain hair, that she was left alone with it for less than a minute. People regularly flip between saying what they mean and saying, but meaning the opposite or something completely different from what they say, and they think we’re weird for not being mind-readers.   Bonus: You keep telling me how uncomfortable you are at (x,y,z), and how they affect you after, and how upset you can be...but you’re still doing it. YES. I’VE BEEN SAYING THIS FROM THE START - I can if push comes to shove, it’s really unpleasant, I can hide it really well, which is mistaken for ‘improvement’, and keep it up, I just crash... But you are doing okay. Yeah, not really... You look to be doing better. ‘Appears to be...yeah’ It’s like making someone with a physical disability perform a strenuous task. Can they do it? Perhaps, but it can be painful, taxing and cause pain for days or weeks after the task. Except I should - simultaneously not brush it under the carpet, be okay with expressing it, but don’t . you are trying to get better, you work towards not being like this, being this way is not normal. You set boundaries through trial and error? You don’t want to push yourself to the point of a meltdown? It’s hindering your communication!  I’m trying to work out a safe way of gaining some ways of appearing to function normal. I’m being told - don’t need to try to appear normal, but oh btw, all those things, yeah, don’t do them. Do make eye contact, do not make distressed noises, do not shake... Things too much, you need to set boundaries. Oh, you say this is too far into your discomfort zone? You’re closing yourself off. I got told that ‘High-functioning’ is a mild form of autism the other day, by someone from the mental health vocational services. The unspoken ‘you can appear to function, therefore you don’t actually have a threshold and can just choose to...function. What do you mean you can’t keep it up? You’re doing fine (no, I’m not, but give me space, happy things, music, don’t push me, and I might be).  Enough of that. 

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [1207]

Ellana Lavellan has been referred to over ten different doctors in just as many, or as few, months. Morrison will be her eleventh. Notes from previous doctors aren't very helpful. They mention childhood trauma, altered or fabricated memories, an inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality, mood disorder, sudden personality changes, signs of PTSD — really, nothing new. There’s even a charming note from one of the doctors that says Ellana has imagined herself through an entire fantasy life of troubles and hardship, and for whatever reason seems to feel like the reality is the one she needs to leave behind.

Ellana Lavellan lies down on the couch without much prompting on Morrisons behalf for her to get comfortable. Morrison half expected as much. The woman has been to eleven different therapists in ten months. She’s sure there’s even more than that, but after going through the notes of eleven different doctors Morrison felt just a touch overwhelmed. And worried about those notes giving her a potential bias against a clearly troubled person in need of help.

“We’ve spoken over the phone but I’d like to introduce myself in person. Get a face to a name. I’m Doctor Morrison Pern. You can call me Morrison, if you want.”

“And you know that I’m Ellana Lavellan. Narnia child extraordinaire.”

“That’s a charming term for it.”

Ellana Lavellan, for all intents and purposes, appears to be a woman in her mid thirties who hasn’t slept enough and probably hasn’t eaten enough. She looks thin and pale and tired. But within her is the mind of a child who hasn’t gotten past the age of fourteen. It’s understandable in a way. Ellana’s entire zip code was wiped off the map at age fourteen and she was the only survivor. Anyone could get stuck there. Anyone would rewrite reality, their own memories, to escape it or try to logic their way around it.

Such alterations of the memory are the mind’s escape. It’s a self-defense mechanism.

Ellana’s haunted eyes stare flatly at her. Her lips are chapped terribly. It looks painful.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be the one — the only one - left behind?” Ellana asks.

“No,” Morrison says. “I can’t begin to imagine it.”

Ellana turns her gaze towards the ceiling.

“They’re out there, somewhere. Or they’re dead by now. It doesn’t actually matter which. The part that matters is that I’m here. Alone. And I’ll never see any of them again.” Ellana blinks. Slowly. Like she’s about to go to sleep but at the last moment remembers she needs to be awake, so drags her eyes back open again. “I want you to know that you cannot fix me. There is nothing to be fixed. I’ve told all the doctors, the therapists, the psychiatrists, the herbalists — literally everyone who’s gotten stuck with me. I’ve told them this. I know you aren’t going to believe me. It’s been almost twenty years since I came back to this world. Twenty years since the disappearances. No one’s believed me in all that time. I don’t blame them. I don’t blame you. It is beyond your capacity to believe. If I were in your position I wouldn’t believe me, either.”

Ellana sighs. A long, hollow thing that makes Morrison feel tired just hearing it.

“I have three mandated sessions with you before you can say you did your best and you can foist me off onto the next one,” Ellena says. “We can cram that into one a week and I can be off to the next whatever you see fit to suggest me to see by the end of the month.”

That explains the truly long list of referrals.

“What makes you think I’ll refer you out?” Morrison asks.

“You cannot handle me, doctor,” Ellana replies, hands folded on her stomach. She doesn’t sound upset. She sounds tired. Like she’s given up. Morrison hates it when her patients have that tone. You can’t give up. There is no one beyond helping, but you can’t help a person if they don’t want it. Ellana turns to look at her again. “As you said. You can’t even begin to imagine it. How can you help me? I don’t expect you to. At this point, I’m beginning to think my case worker doesn’t expect it either. We’re all just going through the motions.”

“Can I at least try, Ellana? Would it hurt to try?”

“You more than me,” Ellana shrugs. “What do you want to try? Medication? Guided meditation? Hypnosis?”

“Can we try talking?”

Ellana’s mouth curves up. It could be a smile. But that would be a stretch of the word.

“Sure, doctor. If you like. What do you want to talk about? Don’t worry. Nothing is off limits with me. I’ve had over twenty years to get over them.”

“Let’s talk about that, then,” Morrison says. “Twenty years of talking and no one really listening, I imagine. I can’t say I understand. But I’ll listen. Talk to me about — all of it. Whatever comes to mind first. Was it hard to speak of, at first? The deaths?”

“The disappearances,” Ellana corrects. “Well. I suppose they could be dead now. Time passes strangely here. But they were not deaths at first. We were all disappearances.”

Ellana sighs. It’s a long sigh. A longing sigh.

“At first I was very defensive about it. Well, no. I said much of the same things I say now when I talk about it, but I was a lot more — it was so much more vivid then. Recent, I suppose is the correct word. One day I was a woman, married in a house of my own with friends and family all around me. The next I was a fourteen year old girl covered in ash surrounded by still smoldering ruins. I was very confused. Rightfully so, I should think. The part that none of you can understand, but must, is that I lived over fifty years in that other world. I had wrinkles. I’d had a husband. My parents were white haired and forgetful. I had students. I had a whole other life in that world. And I never expected to come back to this one. And now I’m back here, and I don’t think I’ll ever make it back across to there. Not to as it was. I have lost two lives. The life I had until I was fourteen — long reconciled as lost over those decades — and the life I lived after that. And now I am on life number three — and this time without any of the people I had known before. I am completely alone for the first time in a combined life of almost ninety years. A century. How can you fix that in me? How can anyone fix that in me? Even if they believed the truth of my story? You cannot. That’s simply all there is to it. I am not sick in mind, doctor. I am sick in heart. It is grief. I have been taken by grief.”

[clunelover]

I’m going to attempt a cut because this may be my longest ever post

Okay here is the long post I’ve been writing and rewriting and adding to in my head:

I love my BFF. She’s wonderful and giving and insightful and funny and we’ve been through some Real Shit together, such as me getting evicted from our college apartment and dropping out of school due to my then-blossoming mental illness. Her realizing she is bisexual and trying to figure out what that meant for her life going forward, and then finding her now husband and planning a wedding while he had a mental health crisis and had to go to treatment (same as what I did but like up a level in intensity). At times she and I have been possibly too enmeshed. Okay. So, current challenges are based on a lot of backstory, some of which I’ve posted about on here before but not all:

Her now husband has been in treatment for mental health twice. Once around Thanksgiving before last, and he is there again now. Last week he stepped down after like four weeks inpatient, and now is onto the day program like I did, only currently it’s all from home on video.

When this was all going down the first time, their wedding was 6 months away. I struggled a lot over how much to say, and ultimately told her I thought she should at least postpone, maybe cancel. And when he came out of treatment that first time, he even said he wanted to postpone! She declined, citing social pressure and embarrassment and save the dates having gone out. I think an unspoken part of it was that she wants a baby real bad, so she thought they should just push through, get to baby making, deal with whatever fallout later?

But in between finishing treatment and the wedding, he continued to mess up - he does a lot of avoiding (including of work) and when he’s ashamed, his first instinct is to lie. So she kept having incident after incident of “discovering” that he’d been lying about going to work. Or hiding some additional debt (and also not paying on it). At this point I think I told her, just financially speaking, you should not tie yourself to this person. She did not like me saying that, and eventually I said I could not hear any more about his fuckups. Because she kept giving him ultimatums, but never followed through on them, and I just could not go on that roller coaster. That was a tough moment in our friendship. Conversation became very strained because so much was happening that I had opted out of hearing about. I still don’t know if that was the right thing to do. I tried to support her emotionally but that was difficult under that boundary I set.

Then they got married last May. After lots of talk with my therapist I decided that I should still go to the wedding and be matron of honor and stuff, because I was doing it out of love for her. And I do actually like him a lot too! Just had and have a lot of concerns.

After the wedding things seemed pretty good, he got a job at a dog daycare and seemed to really love that (or maybe before wedding, who can recall).

BFF was officially game on, full court press for baby. I’m 34 which means I think she’s 35 and turning 36 soon.

Sometime in fall he got fired from dog daycare for badmouthing the owner and then getting into a shouting match (!) with them. In January he got a new job, as an assistant manager at a grocery store. I did not say this to BFF but my initial thought was “if he can’t hack dog daycare how can he assistant manage a busy grocery store?”

I think he lasted a month at grocery store. Then he started punking out and calling in because his “feet hurt.” BFF freaked out because she assumed he was going to lose another job. She apparently had some very firm conversation with him about how she wasn’t happy and almost none of her needs were being met. A couple days later he told her he’d been feeling suicidal and needs to go back to treatment. OH and somewhere in there things also went off the rails with trying for baby. I think he has performance issues in addition to low libido, AND the thought of becoming a dad was triggering. For instance, he was supposed to give a semen sample for analysis but freaked out just being in the clinic for it and left. When BFF told me all this she kept asking “is this okay” and “is this too triggering for you to hear” and at first I thought she meant because of how I also was having a flare up in mental health symptoms due to stressful job, but then later I realized it was because of my previous “can’t hear this stuff anymore” edict. But honestly, I feel totally different about that now! They’re married. The disaster (in my view at least) that I was trying to prevent did happen. So nothing feels urgent or painful to me now, other than sadness for her.

While he was inpatient, BFF had been driving his car because it’s nicer than hers, and then it got reposssed so like she came out one morning and it just wasn’t in the driveway. She knew he’d been very behind on payments, like to the point he had a small claim against him, but she thought he’d finally dealt with that and set up a payment plan. When she called him to say what was going on his inclination was to drop out of treatment and come home early to “deal with it,” which he was eventually talked out of.

So THAT is just to get caught up on past events! Sheesh, this is so long. So my current agitations (some of which are serious and some petty) are:

I’m worried that when his back is against the wall he claims mental breakdown to evade responsibility. This feels very mean of me to think, and also he’s been assessed by experts who presumably can tell when someone is making it up, so...I know he really must not be! But this still feels like the pattern.

Another petty thought is that I too have some heavy duty diagnoses and childhood trauma, but I’ve got it together and manage my mental health very avidly to stay as healthy as possible, so why can’t he. ALSO NOT FAIR! I know that. But it keeps popping into my head. It’s shitty that I can relate to him so well and yet it almost makes me LESS sympathetic. Something for me to work on.

I also worry that the instinct to lie is something that’s hard to get rid of. I know because I have it! I think I have stopped listening to it but it still comes up. And how can you have a good marriage with someone who regularly lies about important things. I don’t think you can.

BFF’s current line is that she’s going to wait til he finishes treatment but then she wants to go back to intense trying for baby. And that if he doesn’t want to, or says he needs to wait, she might want to get divorced. She says she’s put a lot on hold for him and can’t wait anymore. So, yes, she has. And there is the matter of age that is also a consideration. But this feels so mixed up to me! Like, the time for strict ultimatums and maybe splitting up was a couple years ago! Now he is working on some serious mental health stuff and it seems unfair, and possibly undermining of his progress, to say “well I’ve waited long enough so impregnate me now or else”...but also I do think it seems likely and possibly for the best that they’d end up divorced, so what do I care if she rushes that process along?

Big picture though, I don’t think he’s ready to be a dad or maybe doesn’t even want to be. I feel so sad for BFF because he was her first real boyfriend and she was kind of desperate for this to work, so she has just always grilled him about his desire for marriage and kids or what his timeline is, and has taken any vague affirmative response as total agreement. Like they were at the mall and Gymboree was going out of business so he suggested going in and buying a onesie. So, you know, proof positive that he really wants a baby ASAP too!! 😞 ...so, again, even though it feels somehow unfair to me that she’d start pushing on him now, I suppose it’s better that it come out sooner rather than later if that is the case

She also just totally steamrolls him, see getting married even though he asked to postpone, so I really hope she doesn’t steamroll him into having a baby if he doesn’t want one...

She’d never say it, but I get the sense that deep down she thinks let’s just have the baby and if he’s in a bad way I’ll just do all the work. She’s kind of a control freak so she may feel like she’d prefer that! But I think she overestimates how much harder it would be to have a baby while the other adult in the house can’t help you, won’t get a job, etc. than to just DO it alone for real.

I think she is also glossing over how having a baby and the attendant sleep deprivation can make mental health issues get much worse. Like when I was pregnant with Edie, my psychiatrist strongly recommended I just not even try to breastfeed, so that Jeremy could take night feedings because of how crazy I could go without enough sleep. I did not listen but she may have been right! I did go pretty fucking crazy, with both kids.

Oh! And she also has this big plan that he’s going to get on disability. I have all kinds of feelings and opinions about this. Like, rightly or wrongly, I don’t think he’d meet the criteria for this. Also she keeps saying “well he lost his last three jobs due to mental illness” but...does getting fired for screaming at your boss and telling them “you’re terrible” count as losing job due to mental illness?? But she’s so sure this will work and I have trouble engaging with it and being supportive because it feels delusional to me. It’s also making her view all issues of disability through this lens. Like, my stepmom is anxious and as a result very scatterbrained and inarticulate, and she’s also not worked in a few years partly due to health concerns (but like, complications from gastric bypass...not a disability) and BFF keeps saying “why doesn’t stepmom get on disability?” And I’m like “UMMMM because she’s not disabled??” I did finally tell her to stop saying that to me. But yeah, it’s just hard because again, it feels delusional, but she’s going ahead with it so what’s the point of me being harsh about how much I don’t think it’ll work?

Okay last one - she likes to source opinions and experiences from other people to help her think things through. She’s always been close to my stepmom, who had to divorce my dad because of how bad his drinking got, and my dad is also disabled (for real!) so she spent a lot of time as a caregiver. So BFF has had a lot of long phone conversations with stepmom about all that. I also have another friend whose husband is too mentally ill to work (but not on disability! Which BFF also keeps bringing up). He’s been out of work for years and they have two kids and to be fair, their life does seem crazy to me from the outside, but that friend seems to have her eyes open about everything and feels it’s working for her for now. Anyway, that husband has ALSO done the program that BFF’s husband and I have done, so when he first went in BFF wanted to have a chat with this friend about her experience, so we all met up to chat. She was very up front and blunt - “if we didn’t have kids we’d be divorced” and “we haven’t had sex in years”...but now, BFF basically uses this friend and my stepmom’s relationship with my dad as sort of justifications in her mind - “well I’m not THAT bad!” which I hate. Especially wrt to friend whose husband doesn’t work - “I’d never let it get that bad. I’d have left before now. I’d say he had to get a job or get on disability” etc etc. This drives me craaaaazy. Like, remind me not to introduce you to people to have a heart-to-heart if you’re just going to use them as your mental worst case scenario. Also, bitch, you wouldn’t “let it get that bad?” YOU ARE ON THE ROAD TO “THAT BAD” RIGHT NOW! Your husband lost three jobs in as many years. You also don’t currently have sex. How do you get to years? You start with weeks and months.

Okay, that’s it. It’s just been building and rolling around in my head. If you read it all, um, congrats? Also, this maybe makes our friendship sound bad, but other than most aspects of her marriage I have no issues with her and we get along great!! It’s been hard because prior to me telling her not to get married we’ve seen eye to eye, or close to, on everything important.

[hopefulcollectorsweetsworld]

Student Counseling Services: Do they really help the 'mentally ill' ?

(The writer is a student of IIT-Delhi. However, the conclusions of this article applies to many of the universities.)

Let me begin by a story.

Once upon a time, in a college, there was a boy and a girl. Both strangers, the boy and the girl, were passing thorough the university corridor, when they bumped into each other. The boy fell down. The girl fell down. When they got up and saw each other, it was love at the first sight. And after that they started spending their time together. Many months passed. The boy finally proposed the girl. But the girl rejected her. She broke his heart. The boy wasn't able to face this rejection. He slipped into depression. He started taking drugs, alcohol, cigarette to escape from his depression. His academic performance went down. His mentor(senior) saw his behavior. The mentor(senior) took him to the counseling center. He received some counseling at the counseling center. The things started improving. He started to attend classes again, went to the library, and started scoring good marks. He quit drugs, smoking, and alcohol. He overcame his broken heart. He became happy again. He graduated from the university. Happy Ending.

This was the story which was shown to me on the orientation day through a video when I came to the university as a freshman. I was just 17 years old then. This was the image in my mind before visiting the counseling center: the center helps the students when they are going through a tough time, that the center tries to solve the root cause of the problems of the students, that the center is purely confidential and the personal information is not shared with anyone. Overall the center had a good image of them in my mind.

But I have realized now that it was just a marketing strategy employed by the counseling center to attract the troubled students. There are many strategies employed by the counseling center people to attract students example:- showing this video which do not give the real picture of functioning of the counseling center.

Many people including my seniors and juniors do not know the reality about the counseling center. Whenever they see someone struggling thorough their inner problems, they would advise to visit the counseling center. The reason being the conditioning of students by the college and the counseling center by their utopian propaganda.

What I have experienced: confidentiality is a myth in the counseling center. They say that your personal information is not shared with anybody. Anybody means ANYBODY. What they don't say that they are allowed to break confidentiality when they see you as a threat to yourself (like the possibility of committing suicide) or to others. Generally they contact the parents of the students whom they think might need some psychiatric help.

Back then I was an optimistic person. I used to think that counseling center would help me to resolve my inner conflicts. That visiting the center would do some good to me. I have realized that most mainstream “mental health” is more damaging than helpful.

Then is visiting to the counseling center a good option: I would say No. There are better options available.

The decision of visiting the counseling center has played a very crucial role in my life.

Earlier, I did not think that there would be any stigma attached with the counseling center. I thought all sort of people go to the counseling center. It was also written on the university website that people who visit the counseling center aren't mad or weak rather they show some willingness to solve their problems. I never have realized the stigma until I went myself there.

I went to the counseling center of my home university. It was like giving my future into somebody else's hand.

So I reached the counseling center. I met the student counselor. She handed over me a form in which I had to fill some questionnaire. We had some conversation most of the details I didn't remember. When I filled the form she asked me the contact number of my friend. I gave the contact number of my senior(a girl) to the counselor. The counselor called my senior to come around 4'O clock.

These days if the student counselors saw any problem with a student visiting the center, they send him/her to the see the psychiatrist.

The counselor told my senior that I needed help. And if Deans saw me in this condition, Deans would told me to go home. They were there to 'help' me. So the duty of the senior girl was to take me to the hospital and to see the psychiatrist. And that day I and the psychiatrist had a long conversation, but in the end he prescribed me some sort of anti-psychotics. Now I had to take the anti-psychotics.

The night I received a call from the senior saying according to the counselor I had to go back home because it was vacation and I not had been allowed to stay alone in the campus. I had to leave the campus and came back with my parents when the semester would start.

You see, when you reach the counseling center, they can even interfere in your personal life and the college life. You have disclosed your most valued secrets to somebody and somebody used your secrets.

What is the better option instead of visiting the counseling center: Do seek any professional help if you need but don't go somewhere your information might be used against you. Visiting a therapist outside the campus is no problem because at least they could not interfere in your college life and could not put restrictions on your freedom.

I had not told my parents about me taking medications, visiting the counseling center, and the psychiatrist.

I took medication for some days and I was feeling different. It was as if someone had put tape to my mouth that I could not smile much. I was feeling side effects of the medications. I visited the counseling center to tell the counselors that I am feeling the side effects of the medications. They did not believe me. They thought that it was the disease returning. They thought that I was not taking my medications. So they called my parents.

My parents arrived and they were told to sign a semester withdrawal form. The reason which was given by the counseling center people to my parents was that my mental state could go worse if I stayed here. They were forcing me to take semester withdrawal. The counseling center among all the universities have the same policy. Students are told to leave when they feel suicidal or mentally troubled. Me and my parents did not like the idea of semester withdrawal. We thought it would be better to consult the psychiatrist. I had good grades. The psychiatrist based on my previous academic records told me not to take the semester withdrawal as I can perform good in the semester. So I did not take the semester withdrawal.

But my parents were told to stay with me in the apartments inside the college so that one of my parents (my mother) could monitor me taking the medications. I had to vacate the hostel. I feel it as a discrimination against the people with a mental illness.

The counseling center people are so smart that they even signed my signature and my parents signature on an application written in first person, from my point of view, saying that I take the responsibilities of all my actions. That meant if I committed suicide by chance, the center had the record so that no blame could be put on the college administration. What I feel is that they were trying to protect the college's reputation in case I committed suicide. However, I did not think they helped even a little bit of me in resolving my conflicts.

They just give the semester withdrawal so that you can swallow the medications at your home. (Taking a semester withdrawal on this basis is not a good option. They won't return you your tuition fees if you took a semester withdrawal mid-way. And maximum that can happen when you don't take a semester withdrawal is that you fail every course, means no credit passed in the semester. You would not get any course credit too if you take the semester withdrawal.) And the next semester when you came back to join the institute again, you are required to meet the counselor to prove that you are in good mental condition to continue your studies. You would have to submit your medical report to the counselor.

Counseling center people argued that so many people came to the counseling center to visit and given the number of students visiting the counseling center and number of counselors, solving everyone's problem would take much longer time. It is not possible to help each and everybody effectively. I agree on this point.

Do I regret going to counseling center ?: Yes, I do.

Was my inner conflicts resolved ?: No.

Was my privacy intruded by the counseling center ?: Yes, many-a-times.

Were other students told about my mental illness ?: Yes.

Was my confidentiality broken ?: Yes, many-a-times.

Do they really help the 'mentally ill' ?: Not to the core.

What counseling center generally do:

Give you a semester withdrawal (sometimes forced semester withdrawal).

Give you an accommodation where you can live with your one of your parent who can monitor you taking medications. (sometimes forcing students to take medications)

Keeping your personal medical records with them.

Would I recommend anybody to visit the counseling center: Not highly recommended. Proceed at your own risk.

See Also:

https://www.madinamerica.com/

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/28/us/college-suicide-stanford-leaves.html

https://www.nj.com/mercer/index.ssf/2014/03/student_sues_princeton_university_says_the_school_discriminated_against_him_after_suicide_attempt.html

https://www.newsweek.com/2014/02/14/how-colleges-flunk-mental-health-245492.html

#iitdelhi#mentalillness#studentcounselingcenter#universityhealthservices

[let-it-go-and-let-it-live]

METATHESIOPHOBIA

THE FEAR OF CHANGE

Previously

ATHAZAGORAPHOBIA: THE FEAR OF FORGETTING/BEING FORGOTTEN

Next

SEDATEPHOBIA: THE FEAR OF SILENCE

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: ~1900

Summary: Bucky’s POV; It’s been nearly thirty years since you were separated from the man you called Зима, Zima, Winter. He was made to forget you, and he never knew why. What had the two of you done wrong? Now that he’s found you again… well…

Warnings: Angst

A/N: So... this is gonna be a thing now. I was not planning a series, but I have definitely fallen in love with one. I don’t know how long it’ll be though. There is a tag list so let me know if you want to be on it.

We lay there long after the sun has risen. She’s still asleep. I woke up about an hour ago, but I just can’t bring myself to leave her side. A thick lock of her hair falls over cheek, the ends being blown gently every time she exhales. Her lips are parted slightly. Her eyelids flutter as she dreams. She’s on her stomach, hugging her pillow beneath her head. The sheets cover her from the waist down, her bare skin practically glowing in the sunlight that falls over her.

These are the moments I’ll always hold onto, the moments I’m terrified of forgetting.

I reach out, my fingertips brushing against her cheek as I move her hair back in place. I sit up a bit, leaning over her and placing a kiss on her cheek. She sighs in her sleep, the sound content as she shifts a bit.

I climb out of bed as gently as can. She deserves her rest, and I want to give it to her. The floor is cold against my bare feet as I leave the room. I collect my gym bag from the hallway closet before going to the elevator and heading down to the gym.

Steve’s already there, going in on a punching bag. He catches it in his hands, greeting me with his usual smile.

“She still asleep?” he asks, adjusting the tape around his hands.

“Yeah, she seemed to be okay so I thought I’d get in a quick workout.”

He nods, watching me as I cross the room to the weight bench. He comes over to spot me as I lay back and the take the metal bar in my hands.

“How’s she doing?” he asks, his eyes on me rather than on the bar.

“It’s been a rough six months, but she’s getting better every day.”

“She still seeing her therapist?”

“She’s down to just once a week.”

“The nightmares?”

“They still keep her up more often than I’d like.” I return the bar to the stand and sit up, “This is the first time she’s slept through the night in over a week.”

He sits beside me but says nothing as he waits for me to say more.

“She won’t talk to me on her own, and I’m afraid to ask her.”

“Have you considered talking to her doctor?”

I shake my head, “I’m not sure she’d be okay with that.”

“Consider it part of her care.”

I scoff, nodding as I tuck my hair behind my ear, “You might have a point.”

Before he can reply, FRIDAY’s voice cuts him off.

“Mr. Barnes, you have a phone call. Would you like me to take a message?”

“No. I’ll take it.”

I stand, crossing the room to pick up the phone from its receiver on the wall.

“Barnes.”

“Hello, Mr. Barnes. This is Dr. Kennedy, (Y/N)’s psychiatrist.”

I glance at Steve; he arches his eyebrow in curiosity.

“I was hoping to speak with you in reference to her care. Would you mind coming by my office today around 1?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Also,” he pauses, sighing, “I have to ask that you don’t tell her we’re meeting. I would hate to cause any unnecessary anxiety or stress.”

“Understood. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

I hang up the phone and go back to stand beside Steve.

“Who was that?”

“(Y/N)’s therapist. I’m meeting with him at 1, but he doesn’t want her to know.”

Maybe the worry’s radiating from my body or he can simply see it in my eyes, but Steve puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles.

“I’m sure everything’s fine, Buck.”

“Yeah.” I nod, “You’re probably right.”

I know he’s probably wrong. I mean, why else would the guy call me in?

…

We finish our workout around 11, having spent nearly two hours in the gym.

Back at our apartment, we walk in to find (Y/N) in the kitchen cooking. The room is filled with the soft sound of classical music. Steve heads to his room to change while I go to stand beside her at the stove. She glances up at me and smiles. I have to stifle the laughter that dares to rise up out of me.

“You’ve got… a little… something.” I try to direct her toward it, but she keeps missing, “I’ll get it.”

I grab a paper towel in one hand while holding her chin in the other. She closes her eyes, scrunching her nose up as I wipe the pancake batter from her cheek. She giggles softly as I turn her head from side to side, making sure I got it all.

“Hi.” She says, wrapping her hand around my wrist.

“Hey.” I whisper, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips.

When I lean away again, she licks her lips and pulls out of my grasp as she turns back to the stove.

“Breakfast should be done by the time you change clothes.”

I do my best to ignore the unusual distance between us as I go to our bedroom to change out of my sweaty clothes.

…

Dr. Michael Kennedy reminds me a lot of Bruce in his demeanor. He’s a small man, standing about as tall as (Y/N) with dark, blond hair and green eyes. He’s a young guy, maybe in his early thirties. I’ve only met him once before. It was the same (Y/N) was finally discharged from the hospital; therapy was a condition of her release. At first it was three times a week, then two and now one. I’ve never been sure it was helping her.

The office door opens.

“Mr. Barnes, sorry to keep you waiting.” He offers his hand as he approaches, “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

I shake his hand, “I assume it’s something important.”

He nods, releasing my hand and sitting across from me. “I would say so.”

“Then what is it?”

He pulls a notebook from the bag at his feet, “How much has she told you about her nightmares?”

“Not much. Nothing recently.”

“As I suspected.” He flips through the pages of the notebook before slipping on his glasses and glancing up at me, “I have to ask, though. Do you want to know?”

That’s a good question. I don’t know anything about the most recent nightmare, but she’s seen him since it started. What if it’s about me? What if there’s something I can do? I guess I won’t know unless…

“Tell me.”

“Actually,” he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small recorder, setting on the table between us, “I’m going to let her tell you.”

My eyes focus on the tape recorder as he presses play. There’s nothing but a soft hissing sound at first before his voice interrupts it.

“How are you, (Y/N)?”

“I’m okay. Tired.”

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Not very well.”

“Why is that?”

There’s a long pause before she says, “Nightmares.”

“The same ones or_”

“No. This one was different.”

“Do you remember it?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“Were you in the dream?”

“Yes. It was like watching a movie.”

“Was anyone else there?”

“Bucky was there.”

“Was it Bucky? Or was it Winter?”

“No. It was Bucky, and at first everything was fine.”

“Where were you in this dream?”

“I’m not sure. We were in a room. There were no windows or doors and barely any light.” I can hear the scribbling of pen against paper. She continues. “I was on my knees in front of him. He passed his hand over my hair and smiled down at me. I smiled back, and then something changed. His gaze turned so cold and his hand fisted in my hair and he pulled. I cried out. I begged him to let go. There was this laugh from behind me, a voice in my ear.”

“Who was it?”

“Vasily Karpov.”

“What did he say?”

“He called me a fool, said that the Soldier didn’t have the capacity to love. He said that Winter only cared for me because he was ordered to. Then he was standing behind Bucky_”

“So he’s still Bucky?”

“Yes.”

“What happened after he stood behind him?”

“Karpov whispered something in his ear. Bucky let my hair go; he kind of tossed me away. When I looked back at him, there was a pistol in his hand, and it was pointed right at me.”

“Did he pull the trigger?”

“I don’t know.” She probably just shrugged her shoulders. “I woke up.”

“(Y/N), are you afraid of Bucky?”

“No.” She sounds so sure.

“Are you afraid of Winter?”

“No.” Maybe a little less sure…

“Are you afraid of the Soldier?”

Silence. Then… “I don’t know.”

“In previous sessions, we’ve gone over the differences between Bucky, Winter and the Soldier. You don’t fear the first two so why fear the Soldier?”

“Because… somewhere inside of Bucky is Winter and inside of Winter…”

“Is the Soldier.”

“Yes.”

“You say you’re not afraid of him, but are you afraid that Bucky is capable of becoming that man again?”

I can hear her take a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be afraid of him.”

“But you are.”

“I just don’t understand why.”

“Did you ever see the Soldier in action?”

“Only during training.”

“Did he train you?”

“No. Winter was responsible for my training. Vasily made me watch as the Soldier trained the other recruits though. He said it was his way of showing me what Winter was truly capable of. In the beginning, I think it was his way of making me think that he alone could protect me because he held the control.”

“But was it only Winter he controlled?”

“He controlled us both.”

Movement. Were you sitting where I am? Leaning toward him as you spoke? Were your hands shaking as you told your story? Or were they balled into tight fights, resting on your knees as you tried to stifle your anxiety?

“I was a prisoner, but I thought I was home. I was safe. I was protected. I was taken care of. In the end, I was loved. Vasily Karpov helped to destroy the person I was. Now I can’t even look the man I love in the eye because I’m waiting for him to kill me.”

I reach out to the recorder, pressing down on the stop button. I close my eyes and sigh.

“This the first time you’ve ever been the one holding the gun.”

I open my eyes, my vision blurred by unshed tears.

“I asked her if she understood that she was in no danger. She said she understood, but I don’t know that I believe her.”

“You know, one of her favorite things is when she’s laying on my lap and I run my fingers through her hair, but this… this explains why she’s been pushing me away.” I wipe at a tear that falls down my cheek, “Isn’t there something you can do?”

“Any medications I give her may not work properly because of the serum in her system. Talking can only get her so far. Bucky, this is up to you now.”

“What do I do?”

“Find a way to take away her fear. Show her that she has nothing left to be afraid of.”

Somehow… that seems easier said than done.

TAGS:  @melconnor2007 @curlyxtomato @skeletonwoman @chipilerendi @allyp1023

[linseysezines]

Short Story: With Both Feet

Elena’s mom had once told her that she was the bravest girl she’d ever know. But she died and Elena stopped believing that. Elena’s life had taken a downward spiral the day her mom chose to take her own life. She had come home that evening from a hard day at school along with her little brother Austin whom she would pick up afterward too. Elena did her best to help her mother out on most days especially after her father left them for another family years back. She never wanted Austin to feel a gap in his life without an important parent figure so she felt that it was necessary for her to step up and fill the gap. She wanted to be there for him.

Elena had been very successful for her age as she was the best swimmer in her small town as she had beaten much of her town’s old-time records. She had been a local competition swimmer and a part-time lifeguard but now she could barely go near the water. Elena remembers exactly what happened five years ago. The memory is still fresh and would forever be stained in her memory, unerasable and frozen in time. She remembers coming home after a tough day and calling out for her mom and searching for her through the house with her little brother. It became much harder after her mother died. The only people who had legal custody of them after their mother was their father.

As the years went by Austin became more and more of a handful for her to handle. It wasn’t a better life. She didn’t know how to raise a delinquent. Forget raising him, she was barely an adult herself and she had the whole world on her shoulders while the whole world stood and watched. Elena was completely wrong about Austin being in need of a father figure in his life. Austin would do just about anything to get the spotlight on him whether it be getting into trouble at school because to him any negative attention was still attention. Elena learned that it didn’t matter who the parents were, what only mattered was her the proper aspects of the relationship such as guidance, support, and care. However, this was something that was way out of her hands. Now being 22 years old with a job she was able to move out, take Austin with her where she could give him the life she’s always wanted to give him. The only thing that was stopping Elena was the lack of courage she had from all the previous failed attempts of trying to get up on her own two feet. What’s silly in her opinion was the fact that her faults and failures didn’t make any sense by they were there like her fear of water she’s been having for five years.

Five years ago Elena’s plans were much different. The future she’d painted for herself was much more colorful and it was what she wanted. Her future wasn’t for the greater good, it was all for herself and what she wanted. She had her future all figured out. She was going to enroll in a university for her academics including her beloved sport, swimming. Maybe when her SAT results came in she could even consider an institute in the United States. However, her plans ended up having to take a detour. The evening she discovered her mother's dead body sitting lifelessly in the bathtub with a toaster is something she would never forget. Nothing confused her more than to why her mother did that to both her and Austin. It made no sense that a mother would do that to her two children who were dependent upon her for almost the entire lives. None of it made sense. Her mother was selfish, not only did Elena’s mother take her life but she also stole all of Elena’s passions and ambitious as she left this Earth. She was ripped of them that day which left her feeling naked and vulnerable as if there is no safe place for her to go to in this cruel world.  Unfortunately for her, it seemed that the world was moving on and she was the only one who was still stuck in the past unable to move forward. Elena had also lost some of her friends because of this unusual behaviour too. Some of her past friends would point out how strange she is and that she needs to move on from the past. The only problem is the fear that was built up in Elena’s mind. It was the fear that everything would not work out the proper way and that everything would fail and crumble in her heads. Elena has rejected promotions at work in fear that she would lose what she already had, she wouldn’t take any vacation leave unless it was absolutely necessary and she didn’t buy anything over expensive for herself either. For someone Elena’s age who is working, she was living a very limited and minimalistic lifestyle only hers wasn’t. Her lifestyle is just built out of fear of failure and fear of drastic change even if it’s for the better. Some of her friends would mention to her that it would be a good idea if she visited a therapist or psychiatrist for her issues especially the ones revolving around her mother's death and the fears she is left with. Some of her friends have gone as far as to tell her that there may be something wrong with her and she must have gone through some sort of huge shell-shock the day she witnessed her mother lifeless body in the bathtub. Elena herself did not want to believe that this has taken a toll on her life and that it is affecting her to such an extreme extent especially after five years.

Elena was in the kitchen table as she flipped through the newspaper when Austin finally came through the door and sat across from her. It had been a while since he had done something of that nature because usually he would just grab something and leave with uttering a single word, but this time was different. It was as if he wants to discuss something important, at least that's how Elena felt from his presence. However, nothing prepared Elena for what Austin was to ask. “Can we go to the beach”, he asked her quietly. The beach was somewhere they hadn’t gone for five years especially after the death of their mother. There were many great memories on the beach that was near and dear to them. When asked that question Elena froze in shock. For the past five years, they hadn’t done anything they had used to do in the past, but that was all because of Elena. “No”, she immediately replied without even giving it a second thought. Elena thought that it was for the best that they just avoided these type of things. “You know it’s crazy that we haven’t done anything fun for the past five years”, Austin yelled at Elena in frustration and with what seemed to be like bottled up emotions from years back that was just coming out now. “I don’t understand, it’s been five years and ever since then all you’ve been doing is living like a nun”, Austin continued ranting to her. “Everyday after mom left, I watched you fade away. I watched you slowly lose yourself. You are so scared of losing things that you are scared of normal things like change. Change is okay. Change has to happen for us to move forward. Look, moms not going to come back like...ever and I’m sorry, but don’t make me a prisoner to this”, Austin finally puts an end to his emotional delivery and walks out of the kitchen leaving Elena in shock. It was definitely the first time she had heard Austin release his pent up emotions like that and it was also the first time he had yelled to her in that sort of nature. They were really some good topic to chew on. To Elena, it was one of the biggest wake-up calls to her especially because Austin was the only family left of hers that she cared very much about and all she’s ever done is to give him a life he’d want. Learning that she was the cause of how he felt like a prisoner was tough because she thought that she was doing everything right by keeping him inside. Elena sighed and got up from her chair.

She started walking out of the kitchen and towards the hallway in the direction of Austin’s room. Once she’d reached the door, she stood outside for a minute observing him from the door the was left ajar. He was listening to music with one ear-pod in. Elena knocked on the door lightly to get his attention before entering the room. She sat on the duvet covered mattress for quite sometime before she finally decided to speak. “Let’s go to the beach”, she finally let the words flow out of her mouth that she once dreaded. “You mean like right now”, Austin asked in surprise as Elena nodded with a light smile/ It was at that moment that Austin’s eyes lit up like lanterns like they never had before since five years. Austin had already started smiling like a goof in happiness. “Oh my god, we’re going to the beach, Oh my god woohoo”, Austin hollered in excitement as a million dollar smile lit up his face. Elena would have done this sooner if she had known it would change the way she felt in a long time and most of all how her brother felt. She’d never seen a seventeen-year-old teenager get so excited over something very simple like the beach. Seeing Austin smiling meant the world to her and as long as she had that she thought to herself that she was willing to do anything for it to stay that way.

[icklebabywriter]

Reflections

Trigger warning: blood, violence, animal death, murder, gore

I stare at my hands in my lap, too scared to look up at the new therapist lest I will catch my reflection in something. In anything. Her eyes, the windows, the glass of water sitting on the coffee table in front of me... 

“So, Alex, tell me what happened - right from the beginning.”

I sighed. I’ve told this story to three therapists now but no one can help me. No amount of all the different kinds of medicine can help me. But I suppose we can try one more time.

“It all started with a message from a girl that was flirting with me. We’ve been talking for a while, but I kept getting weird vibes from her, so I didn’t really want to like give her any ideas. I didn’t want to tell her to get lost either because she was so... lonely.

“So one day after I asked how it’s going in the morning she said it’s not going well, but she keeps thinking about this sweet boy and how she wants him to leave love bites in her neck and that keeps her going. I told her I want to meet this boy one day, hoping against all hopes she’s met someone else. She said I can meet him right now if I go look in the mirror. My stomach sank - she was talking about me. I didn’t think anything weird about it and went on with my day.

“That night when I got out of the shower I looked in the mirror to brush my teeth and... and...” I took a deep breath to steady myself, not once daring to lift my gaze from my hands. “And my reflection winked at me.”

I paused, it’s usually at this point that they want to ask questions. Bullshit like whether I’m sure I didn’t perhaps wink myself or whether I was drunk or high. She didn’t say anything for a while and then softly “Go on please?”

Hah. This one pretends to believe me. Let’s see how long that lasts.

“I was freaked out by it, but at first I thought it’s just my brain playing tricks on me. I wasn’t under the influence of anything, but I was a bit tired since I was having a few nightmares the previous two weeks.”

I could hear her scribble on her note pad. I know she’s going to ask about the nightmares, but I carry on regardless, not giving her time to respond.

“That was just the first incident however. After that first time my reflection kept doing weird things. Initially it was just moving out of sync from myself - stuff like waving at me or pulling a face or sometimes and decidedly the worst type, simply not being there. It was like my reflection went somewhere else.

“I kept thinking it was because of lack of sleep and my reflection having a mind of it’s own really didn’t help that situation. I kept hoping it will go away, but it didn’t.

“I started noticing other things after a couple of days. Sometimes my reflection would have the same clothes as me, but disheveled. Sometimes he would wear completely different clothes than me. Sometimes he would be holding something that I wasn’t holding - like a rose or a piece of paper that seemed to be a letter or one time even a kitten I’ve never seen in my life before.

“The girl I spoke about started saying thank you to me for bringing her things, even though I never saw her in that time. I stayed in my house because I was terrified and yet.... She said thank you for me bringing her a rose or a letter or a kitten... Things my reflection showed me he has.

“That really freaked me out. Like, how can a reflection interact with somebody else? How can a reflection even pass things through a mirror? But I was naive. This wasn’t even the tip of the ice berg.

“The next week I spotted my reflection with blood flecks on his shirt, near the collar. He seemed to be busy washing his hands in the bathroom sink, but I couldn’t see his hands, just the movement of his arms. When he saw I was looking at him he flashed me a grin, walked out of the frame and then returned, keeping his hands out of sight. He stared at me for a good thirty seconds with that grin plastered on his face before lifting his left hand and putting it against his side of the mirror.

“He left a bloody hand print. Like... a hand print of blood, but it was on his side. I screamed and ran to my room. I was sitting in the corner freaking out when I saw him again. This time in the reflection of an old CRT screen. It was the first time he was in any other reflection than the mirrors. He laughed at me and made another bloody print on the monitor. I just covered myself with my blankets and prayed that it was an illusion. It must be, it must be, it must be.

“Eventually when I worked up the courage I peered out from the covers and saw the bloody print was still on the monitor but he was gone. I crawled closer and tried touching it from my side. It was just smooth glass that I touched - there was no blood on my side.

“My logical side together with curiosity took hold of me. I carried the monitor to the living room and took it apart so I can get the glass out. When I turned the glass around so I can inspect his side... I could see the blood already almost dry. I could touch it. It was real.

“He must have injured himself, or someone, or... Or... Killed someone. I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known. I only have so many windows into his world and he only lets me see what he wanted me to see.

“So I took a pocket mirror my mom left there when she visited me once and started walking around my house, looking for evidence of what he has done. I looked everywhere and eventually found it in the garage. 

“My garage was spotless - my car was parked there but everything else was neat and orderly. His garage however... He must have left with my car because I can’t see it in the reflection... In the middle of the garage floor was the kitten he showed me once... He... He disemboweled the poor thing. It was laying dead on the floor with as big a pool of blood around him as his little body could produce and all around was bloody hand prints spiraling out from the kitten’s tiny body.

I paused for breath. I was so thirsty but I dare not look at the glass.

“So I feared for the girl I was talking to. I messaged her, asking whether her kitten is okay. She responded nearly immediately saying it’s gone. That she can’t find it in any of the reflections in her house.

“That’s when I knew she knew. She knew he just lived in the reflections. And whatever he brought her can only stay in the reflections seemingly. I was glad. That meant he can’t come out of the reflection.

“I messaged her telling her of everything that happened on a voice note. I didn’t want to call her because she would only interrupt me. She sent a voice note back. It was whispers. She said he was there. That he is calling for her but she doesn’t want to go to him. That she’s sorry for doing this. That she didn’t want it to be this way.

“I was confused. I asked her what she meant. Why did she apologise? I got one short voice note back. It was just her saying “He will find me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this.” I never heard anything from her after that... But I did see her again. Well... Part of her.

“The next morning my reflection was waiting for me. When he spotted me he grinned at me again, and started writing something on his mirror with lip stick painstakingly slow because he was inverting the letters so I can read it. He wrote “I took care of her for you” and then... Then he held up her head. Just her head. Not her body. Just her head.  Her head with her lips smeared in the same colour lipstick.

“I ran. I got into my car and drove to her place. I found her on the floor, her head was indeed detached with deep cuts and the butchers knife used to do it laid beside her, but her head was still there. I held up my pocket mirror... Her head didn’t have a reflection.

“I immediately called the police. I didn’t know what else to do. They came and they heard my story, but they also found my finger prints on the knife even though I never touched it in my life.

“And now I’m here. Forced by the state to talk to psychologist after psychiatrist after therapist. But I know what happened! It wasn’t me!”

I could hear her scribble. I held my breath, waiting for her to speak.

“Interesting indeed,” she said. “This is the first case I’ve seen where a personality split caused the patient to have hallucinations about your reflection moving with no other symptoms presenting itself. A case of mild depression maybe, considering your lack of sleep and tendency to stay at home, but nothing otherwise. Very interesting.”

“WHY WON’T YOU BELIEVE ME??” I screamed at her, lifting my gaze for the first time.

I saw the glass break, I saw the reflection in her eyes as he used one of the glass pieces to stab at her, saw the blood gushing from her arm that took the brunt of the blow since she lifted it to defend herself. I kept sitting on the couch thinking about how I should not have looked up.