#ive been actively suicidal for many months now and it keeps getting worse

[rockafirevevo]

has anyone noticed the world is getting so much smaller lately

[izzyliker]

Hey, asking you this as nicely as I can but can you give the immediate victim blaming a break. The absolute lack of respect you have for the people tmc abused is genuinely disheartening. Yes, he’s a shitty person, you’re entitled to hate him but immediately going “well you should’ve seen it coming earlier lol we’ve been saying this” is just ASTONISHINGLY shortsighted and cruel. Have your opinions about him and the situation all you want I would just ask that you please keep it to yourself due to the many many people he’s hurt that are still on here and can see you disparaging them.

ok, that is not what i have been saying. "well you should've known" is not an accurate summary of my feelings on this matter but apologies if thats how it came across. i have been in an abusive relationship where the person did a lot of the same things and i, too, defended that person without considering how it impacted other people. i almost lost my best friend because of how i acted as a result of keeping him in my life while people around me kept telling me to get tf out. i know.

what i am is im frustrated and annoyed by how long people were willing to publicly and passionately defend this guy while apparently fully aware what kind of shit he was doing to other people, many of which is detailed in the callout itself, and how this is now being framed as news. before the document itself was published all me (or anyone) had to go off of was vague posts that amounted to a "callout trailer" and almost all of the information on it was shit that was 100% completely public knowledge. 20+ people being aware of all that goddamn stuff and not one of them publicly stopping associating with him is frustrating. it comes across as spineless and yes, like one anon told GD, gaslighty (although i have my own issues with this being used on a large scale instead of in interpersonal relationships but i understand where they were coming from). his lesbophobia, transphobia (strange that none of the transphobia towards trans men was mentioned?), and panphobia/aphobia/biphobia were widely documented and seeing that on a callout post as if it were news was extremely tiring.

ive since read the callout. the interpersonal actions seem to have been horrible but sadly im not surprised (by which i dont mean "and neither should you" but rather. my spidey senses for this sort of behavior are pretty accurate most of the time and i did see this coming. this isnt me saying im Better than these people or that they shouldve as well but rather that i have learned to identify people of this genre.) by any of them.

also im 75% sure this is tumblr user GD. hello. if not then apologies, its just that the typing here is very similar. if it is, i think you trying to both take accountability for this and process whatever it is youre processing at the same time on tumblr is a bad idea and going to just lead to people feeling hurt and betrayed because while i truly do see where the reaction is coming from (like, truly, i understand, believe me), if you say "i take responsibility for how i acted while being manipulated" but then when people voice their negative feelings you tell them theyre victim blaming you it is going to reflect poorly on you. i dont think you understand how many people were absolutely hurt by the enabling you and your large, massively popular group of friends did for him, including the MASSIVE defense rant you typed up in defense of him when someone sent an ask to the bi jon event about him being panphobic and aphobic. whether its fair for people to expect you to immediately go into depth about it is questionable but dont invite people to do this when you obviously cannot handle it (i dont mean this in a bad way like "oh you should handle it". i mean genuinely this is how you get burnt out and possibly worsen possible future trauma. by trying to immediately placate people without having the mental resources to do so.)

i think the "we dont condone these views and never did!" without ever specifying what they were or doing any other work there is a lazy fucking cop-out. your circle was/is massively popular and a lot of people took all of you as authorities on stuff like headcanons and respectful portrayals of certain characters or identities to the point of accepting your meta as canon (something you havent really dissuaded ever), and associating publicly with someone who would constantly do this kind of shit and then defending him publicly while also positing yourself as an authority isnt something you can just "oops! we never agreed with him!" yourself out of. GD & TF specifically, you are massive blogs. you are babys first TMA blog. people in your askbox hurt and betrayed by this shit are not necessarily there to victim blame you. they are there because they trusted your word when they said "hey seraf reblogged anti pan and anti ace and weird transphobic posts" and you said "seraf is one of my dearest friends and would never do any of those things and im personally offended youd even imply that." i think you dont understand the real life consequences of the massively popular posts and sentiments he made & published and that you helped spread (despite apparently knowing that he was being a massive hypocrite and bigoted towards those groups or identities in his personal life). obviously interpersonal abuse/conflict is going to be "worse" but dear god i hope you collectively understand that "oh btw we never endorsed his views" is a massive copout and a shit apology for the hurt this association and endorsement caused. tmc has been terrorizing this fucking fandom for months with his bullshit and bigotry and you have not been passive bystandars but active enablers.

anyways, hope everyone involved gets to uh, heal i suppose, but i think expecting the people who seraf suicide baited, the groups of trans men he misgendered, the people who he targeted and harassed, the genuine fucking long lasting dysphoria he caused real people to have over his shitty takes re: transness and dysphoria, and the general shit behavior he was allowed to keep up with zero pushback from anyone in his circle of the fandom to drop all the anger or frustration they have for the people who enabled him and defended him aggressively is... unrealistic. and makes you look bad. especially when the doc doesnt even clarify which opinions you still support.

[soggypotatoes]

oh boye

ngl ive been feeling suicidal and hopeless today

a nurse who is so sweet but kind of clueless (bless him) brought me dinner cause i was stuck in bed due to The Misery

but he brought me a CERAMIC BOWL OF ICE CREAM .....

so of course i’ve ended up smashing it cause fuck it i leave in 2 days, the contract i signed promising not to self harm in hospital anymore.. what does it matter? i’m leaving... dw like my self harm isn’t anything to worry about, it’s not deep or anything

i’m actually just bothered bc if they find out then that nurse might get in some trouble and i would feel soooo so bad...

and yesterday i had dinner with some friends from the addiction ward who were discharged a bit ago and they were discussing someone who had to leave yesterday for sneaking in alcohol, and they were like ‘why would you even go to rehab and still use while you’re in there? what’s the point?’ n i said nothing but i was thinking. good fucking question. i was so good on all my other admissions. bc i wanted to badly to get better, and i did everything i could. i did homework. went to groups. followed the rules. why am i here this time? i’ve been to like 1 group in the last month and a half. i’ve run away, self harmed... 4 times, now? more, actually. why??? what the hell. why didn’t i just leave when i realised i wasn’t going to do what i was supposed to. i think i just feel... uniquely hopeless. i don’t know why though. especially since, this admission, i came here... relatively ok. i wasn’t self harming. wasn’t suicidal. i kind of remember it... i was depressed, nonfunctional, but i remember feeling destinctly... emotionally alright. i remember telling people this when i came in. what happened? why am i so much worse now? WHAT HAPPENED???

...is it a trauma thing? my psychologist said my trauma was being activated before i was admitted, and that it was getting worse. i don’t know why though. is it because i was doing better? i feel.. just awful about this. i shouldn’t be getting worse. it makes no sense. i shouldn’t be self harming, i should be over this. i’ve seen so many people come in and get better and leave. i did that myself, twice. why aren’t i getting better??? am i going to get better at home? i really don’t want to keep self harming, but it seems inevitable. i want to go swimming. i can’t do that if i self harm. the weather’s getting warmer, i won’t be able to hide it. why aren’t i getting better?? what am i supposed to DO, i’ve tried meds, i’ve tried so many things, it just keeps getting worse. and do i tell a nurse tonight, what happened? i don’t think i can... i don’t know what’ll happen. if they send me into the public system... it’s unthinkable. i can’t do that. i need to go home on friday. i need to go home. but am i safe there? why aren’t i safe? what the fuck am i missing

[whump-town]

Been Having A Hard Time Adjusting

Summary: Alternative to the peaceful homecoming of Emily Prentiss - Aaron Hotchner never truly comes home with her.

Warnings: medical trauma, amputation, scarring, blindness, mental health, hallucinations, sexual assault, self harm, and just sad stuff

Part One, Part Two

They find the sweet spot where nothing exists past the tip of his nose. Where his mind slips and he dissociates, gets caught in the old wall just a few feet away. In the spackled off-white paint. His eyes unfocused and unmoving. A nestled warmth where he finds himself outside his mind and body and bathed in entire numbness. Compliant to their overwhelmingly constant touches and questions. Without the heavy thrum of sedatives in his veins, he’ll kill himself. Tears stitches back open with his searching fingers to find where to dig and rip into the skin to feel the warmth of his blood.

“Is there someone we can call?” he’s given up. His fight depleted to leave him bareboned and dying. “You didn’t list anyone in your files but if you give us a name…” He hadn’t listed anyone for a reason. He’d wanted his death to be as nonexistent, as unpleasant as his life. So that the others might be given the chance to move on. So that his son will not think of him. He’ll slip through the cracks and they’ll just forget. It could go unnoticed. Now, he’ll be left to go slowly. They can place feeding tubes and restrain his mobile limbs but that will not breathe life back into him. He’s not active by any means but he’s reserved and he’s lost. He doesn't want to stay. He’s done.

He’s been fighting his whole life but he’s never been good at knowing when to give up.

There had been life in him, initially. In the back of his mind, he’d hoped for this eventual returning to his life. His old life. It’s a complicated, convoluted thought that he carries for a week. His presence of mind comes back slowly and the drugs can not hide what he knows intuitively. He finds the wounds on his face, holds his fingers near his right eye and the sight is… The doctors tell him it was shrapnel and that he’s lucky he has some sight in it at all and that there is no perceived brain damage. He looks at himself in the mirror. Looks at this man that he can not recognize.

There is a mass of bruises and wounds on his face. His eye isn’t easy to notice the pupil blown wide and a well-meaning doctor tells him that the scarring he’s typically used to seeing will happen over time. Just as many of the wounds on his face, they just need time to scar.

They sit with him, run their fingers along the wounds as they guess at which ones will heal and which ones he’ll never get rid of. “This one looks like lightning,” a nurse tells him like he’s supposed to appreciate finally understanding what Harry Potter looked like. Does she think Jack will appreciate that? That he’ll look at his father’s face and see a hero and not a horrible mess of these warped scars?

It’s sick, he knows. He’d never think these things about anyone else. But he looks in the mirror and he sees someone that he hates.

And it all goes to hell when Dave shows up.

It’s… He doesn’t know what day it is anymore but he’s turned away from the door of the room. Propped up on pillows and looking out the small window in his room. The physical therapist had come in to move him, forced him to practice moving from the bed to the wheelchair, and then from the wheelchair to the recliner, a nurse had kindly pushed in. He’s left alone because he’s content like this, turned like a flower to the sun. Eyes closed and nearly forgiving, compliant.

“Hotch...”

He jerks at the sudden intrusion. Panicking at the sight of the man before him. It’s a little too much. “D--Dave?” he hasn't spoken in so long that his voice grates and cracks. Tears sting his eyes and he chokes, crying as Dave steps towards him. Sobbing as Dave bends down and shakes his head, his own eyes filling with tears. “You came,” he whispers, leaning into the palm that Dave presses to his cheek. Warm and rough and here and he hadn’t realized how lonely he was. How tired of his own mind…

Dave looks like he always does, carefully suspended between two ages. His hair greying near the temples but his eyes betraying him and his age. He’s tanned, dressed softly in a way that makes Hotch feel like a young cadet all over again. As if he’s marching into the bullpen to meet his hero. But here he is. Dave is right here.

“You’re too thin,” Dave whispers, stroking his cheekbone. “Being a pain in their ass, huh?” He smiles, fondly and softly and Hotch feels its warmth in his chest, in his face. He nods and smiles even harder when Dave brings their heads together. Rustling Hotch’s hair playfully. “It’s good to see you, Hotch.”

He nods, unable to trust his voice. He closes his eyes, leans entirely into the touch.

“Aaron?”

He hums.

“I brought you lunch, sweetheart.”

Eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change, he opens his eyes. The room is empty. He’s still in the recliner. He looks for Dave, going frantic as he realizes there is no proof of Dave ever having been here. But he must have just fallen asleep. “I’m not hungry,” he whispers and lays limply, bites down against his tears as they hook up to the supplements they pump into him. The only way they can think to keep him alive for just a little longer.

Dave keeps coming.

He shows up as Hotch’s falling asleep, whispers through the exhaustion about the next morning. Smiles and assures Hotch he’ll be here when he wakes up. He never is. Emily comes. She brushes her fingers through his hair and he asks her to tell him one more time the names of the countries that she visited as a child. The ones she loved best. He needs her to do the accents to squeeze his hand and throw her head back with laughter but she squints her eyes. She shakes her head and never answers. Never tells him.

“Who are you talking to?”

Hotch blinks, confused but not nearly enough. Some part of him knows what this is but he needs them so desperately that it keeps him from falling apart. He’ll lean into this delusion because it is all he has. “No one,” he whispers but they know. The nurses, the doctors, the therapist. They've noticed.

He doesn’t know why (he knows exactly why).

There are no thoughts leading up to it (it’s everything, it’s all too much).

No ideations (he just wants to sleep…).

It hurts. He rips the IV from his hand with his teeth, grunting at the pain as the needle comes free. He means to run away but he looks down at his leg - to where his leg should be - and he sees red. He feels red. Digs his fingers into the gauze, crying out when he finds the stitches. The hole of mangled flesh and the warmth of his blood coating his fingers. He doesn’t get very far. Isn’t capable of enough damage - not to him, at least. He wants to do worse. To hit and scream and throw himself somewhere dark and cold to die.

He passes out in a puddle of his own blood. Wakes enough when the nurses come in, dragging in crash carts behind them. The head of the bed falling and his hands being moved away. He’s floating. Not really there. He feels the odd little dance of his heart in his chest like it’s stomping quickly to a rhythm not quite right.

He wakes… alive, unfortunately. They restrain him - his two mobile limbs. His left arm still pinned with crap he doesn’t care enough to look at. It’s not as humiliating as it would have been just a year ago. He’s too drugged, too laden to care about the strap they have to put over his thighs to keep him from moving the stump of his right leg. His right hand is held to the bed by the wrist. He looks at it, occasionally, tests the flection of the fingers, and sleeps.

He’s restrained for three weeks but he doesn’t try anything. Doesn’t move or speak. Just looks at the wall. For three weeks they watch him - it’s suicide watch but unbothered. He’s more of a pacifist, anyhow, maybe it would be helpful to know that’s a return of character for him - to just wither away instead. For a week they have this grey area where he’s never left alone during the day and the restraints go back on during the night. They turn on the TV and try to get him to eat but he can’t or maybe he just won’t. He ignores them.

Dave doesn’t come back.

He’s just too tired to care anymore.

He’s there for a month and makes no progress.

“Agent Hotchner.” His physical therapist lets himself into the room. There’s no use in asking to come in, he won’t answer. “I was thinking we work on transfers today,” the other man informs him. He pushes the wheelchair into the room. There’s no point in working with prosthetics, he fluctuates in weight too dangerously to keep them to size. Besides, he is too weak. Too weathered and caved to hold himself up. His left leg is cramped in that bed. He isn’t’ strong enough.

Hotch doesn’t do what they ask but he goes numbly into their directions. Spurring to life like a machine before sputtering back out. He’ll sit up but his movement is mechanical.

He goes elsewhere because they can’t come here.

To Derek. Falling asleep after long cases in the backseat of whatever beat-up car Gideon rented, their shoulders rocking back and forth. Waking for just a moment either leaning, if not held, in Morgan's lap or to find the other man sleeping on him. The unspoken nature of the two of them. Laughing in the bullpen and the time that he carried Morgan across a field because they fell down from some rafters of a barn that Gideon warned them about. They made it to the driveway and laid atop one another called Gideon to come get them. He remembers cracking his eyes open when Gideon had stood over him, shaking his head. “The two of you are nothing but trouble.”

It distracts him from the pain and the way that he can still feel his right leg. They tell him it’s phantom pain but he feels it. He wakes in the middle of the night certain he can wrap his fingers around where an ankle or a calf would be. Is certain his toes hit the end of the bed. He moves to transfer from the bed to the wheelchair and he still tries to put either on a leg that isn’t there.

He’s stationary and that’s how they find him.

Penelope finds him on Tuesday and it feels far too much like the morning she spent frantically calling hospitals to find him. His name isn’t given - not public because he’s American and he’s in a veterans hospital because the federal government won’t fork over the money it’s going to take to airlift him home. Besides, he’s got no family listed. No one to call and raise hell to get him home. No one to care. It’s hard to say they did until just a week ago… Hotch was always good at hiding in the emotional sense but he’s never been good at hiding himself. It made his childhood miserable for reasons with much higher stakes than just children’s hide and go seek.

Dave goes because the plane ticket is nothing and his absence will be fine. Emily tries to come but he tells her to stay, makes her stay. Hotchs’ done all this for a reason and he fears the state he’s going to find him in. Never mind, Emily’s still dead to Hotch - still someone who is dying and needs protection. It’s too much.

Dave drives an hour to Washington D.C. and takes a one stop flight straight to Pakistan. It’s nearly eighteen hours and with too little sleep he arrives at the hospital at 3 p.m.

David had taken to Hotch effortlessly. He’s just that sort of person-- the sort that draws you in with their mystery, with the kindness they couldn’t be bothered to pretend it’s so challengingly genuine. That’s just how Hotch’s always been. Honest but somehow so intuitive, knew things you could never remember telling him but right still. Always says the right things without ever telling you a thing. Until you’re a decade into a friendship with him and you can’t remember if he’s from the east coast or if he’s from the south or maybe if he’s ever had a pet or even what his favorite color is. Not because you didn’t pay attention but because he’s careful. Never tells more than necessary and he’s got that perfected.

And it’s how Dave knows something isn’t right.

Because Hotch could be dying and he’d never bother you. He’d never put you off by asking for a thing.

“At the two week mark he got an infection, his right leg was severely damaged in the accident. The wound and the leg started to necrotize. His organs started to shut down. Sepsis set in--”

Dave’s eyes snap to the doctor’s, sepsis. He looks back to the man in question. Hotch had this way about him, the way he moved and breathed and lived like those old stop motion pictures. Every moment so carefully constructed to create this flowing motion, entirely soundless. Dave has always thought he looked like the grasshopper from James and the Giant Peach with his too long limbs. Thin and pliable. Now, he rests heavily. That grace and flow stolen from him.

“Agent Rossi?” Dave tears his eyes away from Hotch, forces himself to concentrate once again on the doctor. “He’s… He’s been experiencing some rather unpleasant signs of post-traumatic stress. He won’t speak to the therapists on staff--” The doctor looks hopelessly to the man so oblivious to them. “We had to perform a unilateral bk-- we-- I amputated his right leg just below the knee.” By that time, Hotch had lost his abilities to make these decisions himself. Mind ravished by fevers, he was hallucinating. Seeing people that weren’t there.

Dave feels a knot form in his throat as his eyes wander. Slowly over those thin shoulders, down the curve of his back and the bones betray, the bones that protrude through his thin t-shirt. Down to… to see where one foot sits in the rest and the other stops. Where they’ve tied the access material of his sweatpants off.

“He has a prosthetic,” the doctor sighs. “We’ve had to resize it twice. We can’t-- We can’t do it again.” The doctor looks so impossibly exhausted. “They have to be... the prosthetics are advanced but fluctuations in weight ten pounds, even, that throws them off. He can’t keep weight on him and so we size them and then he loses more weight and he’s not getting stronger.” And it’s pointless. He won’t walk on the damn things. Refuses aids and he could walk, by now he could likely run and leap and move but he refuses much else aside that damned wheelchair. “He’s damaged the nerves, the bone, that I don’t know if he’ll be able to use a prosthetic.”

Dave doesn’t need any of that explained to him.

He understands it all too well.

Dave shakes his head. Clearing his throat rouses through his trousers, pulls out his wallet, “if money is the issue--” He hands the man the cards Dave thinks he might need. “Size them,” he asks. “Size them one more time and let me take him home.”

The doctor shakes his head, “Agent, maybe… maybe I’ve betrayed your confidence here.” He sighs, “sir, he’s not well. He doesn’t speak. Not to a soul except in his sleep and he screams. In-- In agony, in fear. He wakes and he has no memory of this happening. Denies our therapy. He doesn’t eat. He sustains on intravenous fluids and a feeding tube which he once fought but now doesn’t even… He’s prone to chronic infections.” The doctor frowns sympathetically to Dave and he is truly upset with this prognosis. Of his patients' negligence to himself and it might be good to finally have someone here for the man but he can not be released. Not without imminent danger. It couldn’t even be recommended he make the trip to another hospital.

“Do what you can?” Dave pleads.

And the doctor wants to break down, to confirm that they have. Everything they can think of. From tough love to entirely too understanding. Everything they have ever been trained to do. He isn’t responding. But Dave isn’t hearing it.

Dave crouches down in front of Hotch, placing himself directly in his line of sight. “Hotch?” He reaches, slowly, up towards him because Dave knows to expect a flinch. No matter how many miles Hotch puts between himself and his childhood, it still comes back in the little moments like these. But Dave’s fingers ghost across cold, pale flesh and there is nothing. No flinch or recoil or even an in-take of startled breath. Only empty eyes.

He’s still so foolishly hopeful. There has to be something, an ember to send to life. He’s just in need of a little poking, the right words and the right commands and he’ll come back. “Hotch,” Dave calls once more. He smiles, cupping Hotch’s cold cheek in the palm of his hand. “Aaron,” he amends because, of course, Hotch won’t answer to his first name. It’s impersonal. Everyone knows it. Hotch is sacred. It’s something entirely their own.

Dave had assumed the doctor was a fool. What could this stranger know about his Aaron? But… this isn’t even his Hotch. This isn’t Hotch at all.

David Rossi has no idea who this man is but he’s not Hotch.

The physical therapist makes his way over, wheelchair pushed out in front of him as he edges closer. Looking between Dave and Hotch, trying to make sure the doctor’s okay for him to come is genuinely welcomed. Dave stands up out of the way, taking a short step back as he watches, numbly, the way the therapist talks to Hotch. The gentle way he kneels down and makes sure that Hotch’s eyes find him before he speaks again. “How are you doing, big guy? Up for the trip back?” he gets no answer, which Dave is growing to find less and less surprising.

“Alright,” the therapist answers as if Hotch has said something, like he’s even acknowledged the other man’s presence. “I think that pretty nurse--” the therapist locks the wheelchair and sets it up for ease transfer. “You remember?” the therapist asks all without breaking stride, like he’s having an active conversation with Hotch. “Well, I”m sure you remember, don’t you? You know, the pretty nurse Amy? Tall? Brunette? Damn, man, I swear I’m in love.” The therapist taps Hotch’s right knee and it spurs Hotch to life. He sits up and the therapist keeps talking as Hotch makes slow, lazy movements to push himself to the edge of the chair. “She asked me out for drinks tonight.” The therapist puts his arms under Hotch's, ready to step in and guide if Hotch can't do it himself. “I’m getting drinks with the hot nurse, isn’t that great?”

Dave watches silently.

Hotch maneuvers himself easily enough, his left hand is still covered in bandages, but he places his weight on one arm and one leg. The movement isn’t entirely sophisticated but it gets him where he needs to be - seated in the wheelchair without help from either of them men standing close.

The physical therapist kicks the breaks down. His smile startles Dave, mostly because of its brightness despite the dreary mood of everything else around them. The physical therapist grins at both of them - his spit and shine nearly a bit too much. “So,” the therapist hums. “Do I need to worry about this guy taking my spot as your best friend? I mean, we’re friends, right, but do we have to compete for the throne of best friend?”

Hotch’s head raises, glancing up at the therapist and Dave feels himself choke, as if punched at the look in his eyes. They stop, the therapist shooting Dave a glance before he kneels down. He places a hand on Hotch’s leg, the two of them eye-level with one another. The therapist clears his throat, solemnly offering, “he’s real, Aaron.” He glances up at Dave, motioning him closer.

Dave takes a stiff step closer - biting down to prevent himself from huffing an agitated breath at the younger man when he’s only beckoned closer. Until he’s kneeling down beside Hotch as well, his chest tight at the way Hotch’s eyes dart to him but seek comfort in the therapist.

“Who is this, Aaron?”

Hotch’s eyes dart to Dave, his dry lips parting but falling closed without an answer. He looks away, flushing with embarrassment at his inadequacy. Dave feels his throat tighten like a vice, begging someone to explain what’s happening here. He’d been told Hotch didn’t have any brain damage and that while nightmares and hallucinations had plagued his waking state, he was fine. Those were symptoms of PTSD and the hallucinations had abated and likely, the nightmares would too once his physical body is able to start to heal.

“You know,” the therapist prods. “Introduce me, Hotch.”

Dave moves, shifting as if to speak to beat Hotch to the chase and the therapist cuts him a look. He doesn’t say a word.

“Aaron,” the physical therapist takes his unharmed hand, trying to solidify Hotch’s attention. “Please? He’s real. Just like you and I, okay? You can tell me.”

Hotch turns his attention to his knees and Dave feels his conviction, feels the way Hotch has solidified his final opinion - Dave isn’t here. He looks at his lap, pulling his hand back to pick at his nails. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. He can’t bring himself to say it. Doesn't want to look at Dave and have him disappear again. Doesn’t want to feel his heart get broken again when Dave disappears.

Dave is stopped, he means to move forward to maybe grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Hotch does know. Of course he knows. Dave has known him since he was a twenty-something punk-ass kid with untailored suits and a shitty Windsor knot. He’s his best friend…

“Okay,” the therapist caves and shoots Dave a look that conveys all that it needs to: he’s to fall back. “That’s okay,” the therapist assures him. It’s pointless, Hotch has worked himself to the point of tears over what Dave had thought was a simple question and Dave feels like he’s been kicked in the head.

They go on without another word. None of them speaking. Dave watches Hotch cry, a few soft tears that trail down his face while he glares down at his lap. He wants to say something. To reassure Hotch or to remind him. Hell, anything is better than this silence that they’ve fallen into.

[animated-moon]

Good morning my little lamb! How was your sleep? I hope you have been getting more sleep since you haven’t been for the past week.

*blushes* if you really must know then yes, I do dream about you my moon *turns head away*.

About you though, some birdies on the team have been telling me about how you keep having mental breakdowns. Do you want me to come over? I know that it isn’t a full solution, but since you love me so much I figure I can at least make your day shine my sweets <3.

My day could’ve been better my lovely. Wakatoshi-Kun and Semi semi have caught me practicing when I wasn’t supposed to, and have lectured me for hours. I It wasn’t that bad though! It was only 3 and half hours of extra practice, I would’ve called you but then I would be risking getting you caught as well.

But how are you doing so far Mx.Tendou? Should I send over some chocolate milk to your place? Or just bring to you directly if you want me to come over?

Love you my paradise~

- your husband💜

ah, my sweetest! it’s been a while hasn’t it? i’m so sorry for responding to this much later than i usually do, but i know that you know things haven’t been the easiest lately :,) i’ll explain more at the end of this reply!

yup!! i’m getting more sleep than usual! all thanks to you, my lovely~ <3 oho? it was just a teasing statement, but now i’m curious. what do you dream of me? hmmm?

oh! you DARE go to extra practice WITHOUT ME? forget getting caught, my sun, i’d do practically anything to spend time with you <3 besides, i’ve been playing more volleyball recently (my thighs and arms are SORE :,) and i have bruises on my arm from the stupid balls, but SOON! i’ll be good enough to at least play in the court)

FROM THIS POINT ON IT WILL BE ME RANTING ABOUT MY PROBLEMS AND THERE MAY BE SENSITIVE TOPICS. PLEASE PLEASE DONT READ IF YOURE UNCOMFY. I DONT GUARANTEE ANYTHING

well,, about that. since we ARE wedded, and i’ve been running from my problems, i think it’s time to come clean to this. i’m not exactly doing well anywhere and my mental health has been far from okay. still better than many, though. i should really be grateful for that but i just can’t. anyways <3

also tendou anon: ily. the short version is just: i have insecurities and i am mentally unstable and i am being unnecessarily sad about it 👍👍 followed by me being stupid and having parental issues <3 summed it up in case you didn’t wanna read all t h a t

i’m having a series of small but important exams recently and i can’t say i’m really doing well in school either, so i’ve taken it upon myself to at least work hard and try my best to finish all my schoolwork, get enough sleep and still have time for some more relaxing things, like tumblr. i dont know if you know just how alleviating it is to see people pop into my ask box to chat or to request or just ANYTHING, which is why i really, really love and appreciate you (i’m getting off topic, let me steer back). well, anyway, how should i say this? tumblr has been like my escape from reality, like my paradise. somewhere i can be without having to meet already-made expectations, without having to pretend like everything in my life is fine and without having to simply pretend. lately i’ve been less and less active because of all the personal problems i’m facing, and i do apologize for that, although i know i don’t need to.. i just- gosh i don’t even know where i’m going with this at all.

since i’ve addressed my inactivity, i’ll talk about my mental health. it’s been months since i’ve had any insecurities popping out randomly to taunt me and pick at every single thing i do. since around the start of july, though, everything started falling back onto me. i started realizing and criticizing every little thing i did and myself as a person. recently it’s only gotten worse, and it’s disgusting for myself to doubt some of my closest friends and their friendship with me, but i cant help but think they’re all going to leave me for some newer, more fun and more interesting friend. after all, in reality, i’m just plain old me. i sound so unbothered by everything, i look unapproachable, i’ve even given up on almost every aspect of myself. why would they want someone like me, right? it’s stupid, and i shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, but i can’t do anything about them. sometimes it feels like i give so much but they never give in return. i pick up their siblings from classes, i take time out of my already packed schedule to help them solve their boy problems, i always try my best to take their feelings into consideration. at least in my point of view, i did nothing wrong? did i? i don’t know why everything’s going wrong and why everyone’s slipping out of my lives when they’ve barely even been there.

tw//suic*de and de*th and starving and really bad parents under this

i’ve been suicidal since a few years back and i only have a single reason to live. that single reason is my one of my two best friends. he’s amazing in every way possible, and i don’t truly know what love is, but if i loved someone, it’d be him. he brought me out of my darkest times when i’d attempted suicide and we made a promise to both live on. we still do talk, but since he’s older and busier, these times just get less and less frequent, and i’m so scared to lose the one thread still tying me to the world.

and, my parents. i think they’re the largest contributing factor to my current situation. lord, i can’t tell you how many times i’ve passed out from exhaustion, being fucking forced to study for exams. how many times that woman has threatened to k*ll me and starve me for the tiniest things ever. in my entire life, no matter what happened to me, she’s never said a genuine sorry to me before. her nonexistent social awareness is almost funny, if it weren’t so fucking annoying. whining and babytalking with my dad all fucking day at max volume as if i weren’t in the house. all that slandering of the lgbtq+ community and being racist, all that shittalking about me as if i can’t hear them at all. all they know is how to be disgusting, manipulative shitheads, thinking theyre the boss of everyone and that they can order me around like im an inanimate object. IM EIGHTEEN, FOR FUCKS SAKE. IVE BEEN TAKING CARE OF MYSELF SINCE 13. LEAVE ME TF ALONE.

i just,, i dont know. fuck them, fuck everyone, fuck everything. i want to just end it all so bad but i know i’d just be more of a burden to everyone like that, or so i’d like to believe.

that is all. that’s the longest i’ve ever ranted in ages, lord. i won’t say i’m fine right now, but i won’t say i’m doing good. i’m just barely hanging in there, and i don’t know what else to say about this.

sorry for the long rant! i have lots more i’m upset about, but i’m not ready to share it with anyone yet, sorry. for anyone who actually read until this part, please just somehow ignore this. thanks

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 38)

Azula was growing to hate the hospital, not that she had ever thought highly of it before. It was a bore and it gave her the sense that she was letting herself slip again. She’d been bed bound before and it only led to more suffering and now she was bed bound again. She supposed that, at least, this time she had company. Teo dropped by constantly, even if he just sat next to her and quietly did his homework, only looking up to ask her a question or two. On some days he would bring her, her own homework. She did it under the guise that it kept her mind from wandering to its darkest places.

Between worksheets she would answer texts, mostly from TyLee and Katara.

They kept her stable.

They kept her from feeling as lonely as she had initially thought herself to be.

She would have loved an in person visit from TyLee, but between school and her investigations, the girl hadn’t much free time to spare. Azula could only imagine how hectic the school was.

Azula sighed to herself. It was still another few hours before school let out, giving Teo the time to visit her. Add one more hour with the commute to the hospital. Her morning and early afternoons were lonely. She was feeling physical better, she wished that they would just let her go home.

Whenever she inquired about her release date, she found herself being given half-answers or entirely empty and dismissive ones.

They set another tray of food before her and lectured her to finish it this time. But doing so always left a sense of dread. They were still giving her too much and she couldn’t fathom why they weren’t understanding that. She could afford to eat the rations they gave her when they kept her confined to that room.

Before the nurse could leave she took the woman by the arm. “I’ll eat it if you let me leave this room.”

The nurse paused. “I’ll speak with my higher ups and see if I can have you cleared for a recreation hour, or some time outside.”

Some fresh air would do her well. She rolled onto her side and tried to ignore the IV in her arm. She didn’t know why that was still necessary; she had made her attempt on Tuesday and it was now a Friday morning. As far as she was concerned, that was more than enough time for them to know that her vitals would remain stable.

The nurse reappeared. “Finish your breakfast and you are cleared for some recreation time. Would you prefer to use the pool or go for a light jog?”

Frankly, at that point it didn’t matter as long as she got to do something other than sleeping and eating. If she had her way, she’d do both. “A jog, I suppose.”

The nurse nodded.

.oOo.

The air did her some good. It was as chilly as she expected for a day in November, they had her bundled up very generously. She welcomed the feeling of sunshine, however dilated the season was making it, on her skin. It was a bright day and she could smell a tinge of burning leaves. It was much more welcomed than the pungent odor of antiseptics.

She didn’t care for the constant babysitting and hovering. Being watched as she jogged for the first time in months was a rather large discomfort, but at least they were letting her do it. That’s what she kept telling herself. At least she was doing something again.

Even so she couldn’t help but feel awkward. She was so horribly out of practice, even the slower sprint was leaving her short of breath. Frankly, it was embarrassing. She could practically see her father scowling at her. But she didn’t think she could push herself much harder without the nurses reprimanding her and revoking her newfound recreation time.

.oOo.

After a good hour and a half, Azula was back in her designated room, with only an hour or two to go until she finally had company again. She wanted to feel good about herself, she wanted to feel accomplished. But the activity only served to remind her of how far she let herself go.

Even if she had taken coach Ming up on her offer, she doubted that she would have been able to make the cut. She really was no good anymore. She had let her talent slip. It frustrated her nearly to tears.

As much as she longed for home, she feared the prospect of it now that she had concrete proof that she was virtually useless. No wonder her father hadn’t dropped by yet. She could only imagine how badly she had tarnished the image he told her to fix. Just like that, she hoped that the man wouldn’t visit her. She had a striking feeling that he would just make her feel twice as ashamed of herself. Of her weakness.

She had let them all win.

She had let them push her to where she was.

They had broken her.

Azula ran her fingers through her hair. They were probably having a grand time relishing in knowing that they had nearly killed her. Knowing that they had hurt her that terribly. At least she had the opportunity to make that victory short lived for Chan and Usha.

She wondered if they had already been pulled aside for the news. It was going to be tricky without Ozai’s wallet, but one way or another she’d be pushing through with the lawsuits.

“Azula, there is something that we’d like to discuss with you before your usual visitor arrives.” She recognizes this doctor. If she recalled correctly his name is Doctor Khoyang. He pulled up a chair and ruffled through a few sheets. He set them to the side for a moment. “This is probably uncomfortable, isn’t it?” He motioned to the IV.

She nodded.

Khoyang carefully removed the needle. “As long as you keep eating regularly, we won’t need to use it again.”

Azula was growing agitated with the constant reminders, but with the IV out of her arm she was willing to let it slide.

He returned to his papers. “As I was saying, there are a few matters I would like to cover with you.”

.oOo.

TyLee pulled Azula into the tightest hug she had received in a long time. She returned it with a more lax grip. She let TyLee draw it out, she had missed kinder touches.

“You came to visit.” She commented.

“They didn’t pull me in for questioning today, I figured that I could give Teo a ride this time. I ask Katara if she wanted to come but her brother was just released the other day and she wanted to spend time with him.”

It took Azula a moment to gather what that meant. She recalled Katara mentioning, over text, something about Sokka having jail time. “Send her my regards.”

TyLee nodded, taking Azula’s hand in hers. “You’re looking better.”

Azula couldn’t agree less. She muttered a thank you, anyhow.  

“Are you feeling any better?” Teo asked.

“Depends…” She replied. Physically, she supposed she was feeling quite better. Her stomach wasn’t achy and she wasn’t as tired and dizzy. It was nice to see the swelling in her hands and ankles gone as well. Her throat still burned some but other than that, she was feeling quite well.

“Are you feeling happier?” He clarified.

Another hard question to answer. On one hand she didn’t feel so alone, in fact she felt quite supported so long as she didn’t think of her family and former friends. On the other she was dreading to find out how her hospital stay was impacting her weight. Even so, she couldn’t fathom feeling worse than she had on Tuesday. “I guess, mostly.”

“Would this make you feel better?” TyLee asked. Enthusiastically she dug around in her much too fuzzy and far too pink cheetah-print backpack. Azula had to admit that she missed seeing that eye-sore of a bag.

TyLee pulled out a small stuffed animal.

“What is that?”

“It’s a turtle duck.” Teo answered. “TyLee wanted to get you a duck and I wanted to get you a turtle so we got them both and fused them together. The duck turtle isn’t as cute.”

“The duck turtle is just a turtle without a shell, so like...a naked turtle?”

Azula rolled her eyes and accepted the gift. “Thanks.” But the gift was so very TyLee, she had to crack a smile. It was the sort of thing that had left her feeling so empty to have lost. It was nice to have that back. “I take it that you’re in a better mood?”

TyLee shakes her head affirmatively. “Oh yes! It’s a little stressful with all of the questions but I feel safer with Jet in jail. And I feel like I’ve…”

“Dominated him back, so now you don’t have to fear him?”

“That isn’t what I was going to say.” TyLee laughed. “But, yeah that’s basically it.”

“I’m just happy that you’re going to be okay.” Teo added. “I can’t wait to sit with you at lunch again.

At that, Azula bit her lip. “Teo...about that.”

His smile faded, concern taking its place.

“They want to transfer me, Teo. To a different school.”

“What?!” Both he and TyLee exclaimed.

“They said it would be better for my mental health…” She trailed off. That was only scratching the surface of what Khoyang discussed with her. “Apparently, it is standard procedure to send child protective services out following a suicide attempt.” She noticed TyLee nod. “Between Zuko running away and this, they want me to live with...with…”

“With who?” Teo pressed.

“With my mother, until they either clear my father or charge him with something.” She paused. “I don’t think that they understand why that isn’t a good idea.”

“Living with your mom?” Teo asked.

Azula nodded.

“Azula and her mom didn’t get along that well when she was around.” TyLee spoke.

“I don’t want to stay with her.” Azula muttered. “But apparently Zuko running away was already enough to raise some red flags. And then they saw the locks…”

“The locks?” TyLee inquired.

“Did they ever find Zuko?”

Not exactly wanting to think about the locks, Azula only addressed Teo’s question. “They wouldn’t give me many details but he is actually in this hospital’s sister facility, rehab, I think.”

“Oh! I’m glad he’s safe.” TyLee replied.

“Yes.” Azula agreed. “They also want to put me in an institution.” This was even less pleasing news than the possible school transfer.

“For what?” Teo asked.

“Depression and…”

“Bulimia?” He guessed.

She nodded again. “They are still deciding whether or not they want me to be inpatient or outpatient.”

TyLee’s brows furrow. “Bulimia?”

Azula held out her scabbed hands. TyLee took them again. Just like that she is in another hug. “But you're the most beautiful, smartest, perfect girl in the world!”

“I don’t know about that, Ty.” She muttered, but the compliment did her very well. “I don’t want to live with that woman.” She mused quietly. “And I don’t want to go to a new school either.”

“Do you want to come back to Wan High?” Teo asked.

“Not at all, actually.” Azula said. Frankly, she was having trouble deciding which choice pleased her the least. At least Wan High was a familiar evil, at least she had a handful of companions there. “But the school they want to transfer me to is closer to my mother’s house. And they think that it will be better for me to get away from certain people.”

TyLee cocked her head to the right. “Well, maybe this will be good for you! It’ll be a fresh start and you can make new friends.”

Or they would hate her on sight. She was well aware that she had a cold and standoffish aura about her. “Perhaps.”

[radioactivetirade]

tw uh sh suicide world ending etc

ngl i been having way more suicidal thoughts lately, like past couple months. not in the regular depressed way im used to, but in a nihilistic nothing even matters kind of way thats somehow worse. like im never gonna act on these thoughts, ive reached a place in my mental health journey where i know all itll truly serve to do is hurt the people i live, and nothing i feel is worth causing that pain. but like the world is genuinely so bleak, and i know im coming at it from a real place of privilege but in a way that makes things worse too. i just look at the news, at the world, at how the VAST majority of people are unhappy or unsatisfied in their lives because only the few have the gift of things every person should have like time, and leisure, and the ability to do things and get actual enjoyment from the majority of our waking hours. i dont know how other people look at the world and think yeah this is fine. i dont know how people keep going everyday without worrying about our collective future, because from where im standing ? we barely have one. its all literally straight logic but the worst part is no one even wants to hear it ! no one is fucking listening !!!!!! i know thats by design. i know the forced work and fucked economy and propaganda and million dollar distractions are doing their job and preventing people from having the caoacity for critical thought and the energy to care. but i feel like no one else is angry like i am, like i feel so justified in being looking at how things are going. im literally ready to do something extreme. something violent. something that could kill me, that could put me in prison for life. nothing else mayters if i can do literally anything to force people to see, to pay attention, to fucking care. i see how things should work, all the solutions to all the problems, like a big jogsaw puzzle ive put together in my head. im not saying doing shit like chnaging our entire global economic system would be easy, but its so so so fucking possible. but i have no power. and i cant force those who do to facilitate the survival of this planet. i cant force them to care. we are all dying, right now. we are all already dead. why am i even here if i am so fucking insignificant ? nd i know i know i KnOW no one is truly insignificant. we have seen time and again individuals stirring the hearts of the collective and making shit happen. hell even just being a body in that collective would mean something. maybe its just my shit fucking brain working against me, but i cant for the goddamn life of me find anything tangible that gives me genuine hope. people will make change , that much is clear. nothing significant enough will happen in the political sphere anytime soon by a long shot. but when ???? when do we take back the planet, and return its ownership to itself ??? when do we start actually listening to indigenous voices instead of literally activally killing them ??? when do we ALL say ebough is enough and actually do something about it instead of just talking and making plans to lobby our local governments and dumb shit ?

im just so fucking tired. i feel like im screaming and screaming and screaming but no sound has come out for years. i fear im waiting for a revolution that will not come and it chills me to my fuxking core every day i am alive. this is why i want to die. out of pure fear. i cant bear to watch the world i and people i love so much burn away into nothing when we all, together couldve stopped it. and i KNOW preemptive fear is stupid, but i cant help it. sometimes i look into the future ib my mind and its fucking glorious. but sometimes i look, and it isnt there at all. i dont know how else to deal with that than to...not. i feel like i put up such a strong front, people see me and they see passion and drive and so many of the good things o our generation. but i am weak, and i am scared. i want a good future so badly i am terrified that i will fight and fight and fight only to fail. my bones already ache with the effort, and sometimes it is easier to just want to rest instead of try. i try to be strong, but i crumble so easily under the weight of potential failure. id rather die than see the world fall. abd yeah i guess id fucking rather die fighting. but i see nothing beautiful in martyrdom. i see only useless self sacrifice. so why not speed the process up and end things now so i dont have to deal with the hardships im not even sure i can handle at all.

ive barely eaten in days, and my mind is just pure violence. i wish my body would eat itself. i wish my brain would just collapse outright instead of this drawn out torture. i wish i could just be happy with the graces ive been given instead of complaining and woreying and trying and failing and crying and decaying.

you will find me one day, and i wont even be there

[unproduciblesmackdown]

tfw hating life enough for a reeadmooore

‪yesterday afternoon i’d blocked out 3 pgs in my sketchbook & by that night i was thinking like well i’m so close to finished the sketchbook finally (ive been using it about a yr and a half by now) that i could just stop drawing when i hit the end there‬

but i’d mentioned the impending end of my sketchbook space a friend is already in the process of sending over some they havent ever used so that will at least mean if i stop drawing it’ll just have to be because i want to lol

like in this case it’s special b/c of course i’ve had periods where i’m like smh what if i just don’t draw anymore, but that’s tended to be about being frustrated w some element or other of it all. this time it was mostly just that every day of my life i have a tiny bit less motivation or energy or etc. yesterday i was thinking all day about offing myself, which i’d done the day before, and done today too

like, it’s nothing new, i’ve been hating being alive and wanting to kms and only moving in the direction of less disappointment to more disappointment and having to care less about things i previously cared about because for one reason or another things get to a point where it only adds frustration to my life anymore

but despite depression and wanting to die and life being miserble all being Not New, that doesn’t mean that it doesnt matter anymore, because after day after day after day after day after day of it for years and years, you’re in a worse place than you were a while back, even if you do feel the same. even a single day of wishing you were dead the whole time is shitty enough. feeling overall like even if you’re in a good mood now, you know your life is trash and you’re going to go back to feeling bad soon, is also shitty enough

like the thing that drawing had going for me is that, like reading and writing sometimes and even some other shit, it’s something i like to do. i do it for myself, really. but it helps that its the way i trick ppl into being here in the first place to see anything i’m talking about. i have really crap appeal. i mean i’m bad at being appealing thru shit i draw, but it’s still way more of something anybody wants vs like five yrs worth of my text posts. like...i have over 10x more followers than i did on a blog where i rarely drew anything ever

but anyways despite me drawing b/c i enjoy it, i enjoy enjoying things less. always in the middle of that “loss of interest in pleasure” life lol.......it doesn’t really matter how long i do or don’t keep drawing, b/c i mean, it doesn’t much matter to me whether i’m having fun or not. i can be enjoying drawing and still wanting to die, because that’s whats happening lol.....nothing that’s a personal factor of my life is all that important to me, because my personal existence is not that important to the person living it

also it sure hasnt helped that my sense of things like whether my life can get better or i’ll have the opportunity to pursue my nonexistent dreams or live an ideal version of my life that also doesn’t exist are all at all-time lows and only just getting lower day by week by month by year. the only way i can even look at cheering myself up is from a day-to-day perspective. and i can have a slightly more fun day than usual and then be extra down on the very next day b/c of how being a bit less numb means you’re crap-feeling emotions are now game too. and i’m very aware of how, if you’re not in a position that insulates you enough, if things get worse for you, that makes “things getting worse for you” more likely, and it’s an exponential drop that gets harder and harder to climb out of, and even if you move back up a notch out of good luck, you’re still just as likely to be knocked back down to where you were. the odds of me suddenly not only not fucking hating being alive but also having a life that doesnt fucking make me hate being alive? that’s a funny joke

‪also it’s frustrating that whether i feel good or miserable on any given day only really exists if i say something about it in a post like this lol... like i might feel awful one day but if i dont have it in me to spend ages writing about it, which is difficult also b/c putting feelings into words where ppl will only fully Get It if they’ve felt that way too, anyways if i dont write about how shitty i feel and post it then maybe later on when i’m feeling a little better or feeling a different kind of shitty, i also won’t be interested in being like “oh btw i felt awful the other day.” and if i don’t mention it, as far as everyone in the world knows, it was never a thing that happened, so it might as well not have. i mean, as a person i might as well not be happening, especially since i don’t want me to be happening lol‬

and like i was saying to someone the other day, its a lot harder via text to talk about shit b/c like, if you’re with a friend in person, you can talk abt boring or silly things and its easy and makes a good conversation. whereas talking via twitter means it would be clunky and time consuming to layout exactly had empty and depressing my existence is, and silly shit isn’t even worth the energy when you’re having a convo w lengthy gaps in it, so you can only really talk about the broadest, most interesting shit. which i don’t have much of, oh well

i do like talking and talking to people actually, it’s just rough when it’s all a few ppl online, even though i alsp extremely appreciate those people and enjoy the talking. it’s like, chatting to ppl online is like a piece of chocolate cake. it’s delicious and you love it, but it would be amazing if it was the extra bonus on top of getting solid meals every day, instead of it being the only thing you have to eat and you get it maybe once or twice a week and it’s still wonderful and is all the more valuable for it, but it isnt the same as getting enough to eat always, or Knowing you’ll keep getting enough to eat

anyways my social life is always its own special kind of depressing, even when i AM in the same place as friends. you’d have a hard time finding a situation where the concept of What I Have To Say seems interesting or even relevant to other ppl. and im not sure i’ve ever been in groups where i feel totally comfortable with everyone there and don’t feel out of place. so talking about the idea of knowing you always have access to someone to talk to or be with in person or having friends who you know you can hang out with and they actually like you and you still expect to have them a few yrs down the road—all that’s always been a “well, in theory i mean” or “at least, i imagine it would be like that” issue for me

tbh i generally feel the most comfortable enjoying myself when i do something alone; maybe it’s because i have more experience of ppl im around treating me really shittily than treating me well

ohhhhhh wellllllllllllllll what else do i have to talk about. hmmm the fact that feeling like i wanna die only seems to be regarded as an issue of “well are you gonna or not,” aka if you havent its a Victory and a happy situation instead of it being a matter of EVERY DAY I’M A CONSCIOUS ORGANISM I WISH I WAS DEAD AND MY EXISTENCE HAS BEEN HEADED IN THAT DIRECTION FOR AT LEAST THE LAST HALF OF IT

like how heartwarming that i’ve been actively suicidal for how many years? 6? 8? but i havent yet!! i always want to but just never get around to it and so this time for sure lol no more fooling around!! oh dammit and there goes another birthday still alive. like this is some elusive new years resolution or novel i mean to write.

funny i mention it because there’s practically nothing anymore that i want to do. even if i THOUGHT my life would ever become okay, i want fuckall out of it. i only exist, baby............and it’s like i said earlier, whenever i try to come up with a sad amount of potential motivations NOT to die, i have to realize that none of the shit is actually for me, or directly about me, or centered on me. like, this shit lost its charm ages ago.

well anyways. i suppose thats all i can think to say now. and it doesn’t make a difference whether i talk about my shitass existence and how crap i feel or not. it just gives the chance for a bit of it to exist in the world via a few other ppl being aware of it for a few minutes maybe, because who DOESNT want to thoroughly read a shit essay by some random weirdo about how everything sucks. the end

[mental-health-advice]

Submission about girlfriend leaving

I hope this will not be as long as I thought it would be.

Its been 1 year and 5 months since my girlfriend left me. My life has been upside down since then.

Everyday I dream about her and everyday I think about her, this even made it impossible for me to begin a new relationship. I have only eaten one meal a day and my doctor got mad at me for not taking vare of myself. I tried to commit suicide 4 times this years which only made things worse. Two of them I was already in the hospital, since im in the middle of a treatment against lung cancer.

I had a serious argument with my family last couole months and had to leave home. Ive been living in a small apartment since then, which has not been healthy for me with no one around.

My will to live has been droping more and more each day and now that im all alone in this apartment, ive been thinking there would be no one to bother during my department. Im sorry but I had to get this thougthts aroubd somewhere.

I dont really know what else to do. I wish I could give more details but im frantic and my english is horrible.

Hi friend,

Thank you so much for feeling able to reach out to us here at MHA! I’m sorry that your relationship ended and that you have been struggling with some negative emotions since then. I hope I’ll be able to give you some ideas about some things to try and help yourself feel a little more positive. 

I do just need to say though, that if you find yourself considering suicide and you are reaching a crisis point, please reach out for some help. You can call your local emergency services for immediate help. You can also try helplines and web counsellor who will be able to support you through that point of crisis and hopefully encourage you to keep yourself safe.

Suicidal thoughts are really serious and very hard to cope with on your own. Have you had any professional help for how you are feeling? Even if you are not suicidal, but still experiencing this negativity I really recommend going and talking to a professional like a GP or counsellor. They will be able to help you explore and understand your feelings. You may be offered medication, inpatient treatment, talking therapies, and many other options; it is about working with the professional and finding which treatment will work best for you in your current state. Talking therapy may be a really good place for you to start as a therapist will be able to help you understand your suicidal and negative thoughts and what is triggering them; further to this, they will hopefully be able to give you some great coping techniques  Here is our page about getting help which might be useful in answering some concerns you have about talking to a professional!

Getting over someone and a past relationship is a tough process and one that is completely different for everyone, so I can’t tell you a hard and fast rule for how to deal with it. Something I do suggest though is cutting all ways you have of contacting her, so deleting her number, blocking her on social media, etc. This is to prevent you from thinking about reaching out again and hurting yourself that way. You could also maybe try and think about the reasons why your relationship wasn’t good for you, or  even try writing her a letter in which you talk about all of the things you have wanted to say to her, the good and the bad - then instead of actually sending it, destroy it, burn it, rip it up, throw it away, whatever - that way you can get some kind of closure by saying all the things, but when getting rid of it, you can mourn the loss of the relationship and that person in your life. Hopefully this will make the loss a little easier for you!

I know it can sound a little silly but many of us forget to give ourselves credit for the little things we do each day, and it can be really beneficial to take the time to acknowledge them when we are trying to improve happiness. So perhaps, you could just start with one or two little things to achieve each day, such as washing your dishes and going for a 10 minute stroll somewhere. Another little thing you can try is getting your friends and family to help you to write a list of all the reasons that they love you and that you are a good person; keep the list, make it pretty, and look at it everyday to remind yourself that you have so much worth and goodness in you! It is also important to keep doing all of the things that you know used to, or still do, bring you enjoyment, and try and do them more if you can! Painting? Music? Writing? To start with we just need to find that one thing that makes you want to keep going and get up every morning.

I am linking this page by Psychcentral as it has some really good tips and advice on overcoming loneliness. Even something really simple like reaching out to people you know first by commenting on a Facebook status, or sending them a short message saying hi and asking what they’re up to - initiating conversation can really help you to feel more involved in a group or friendship. I also think it’s really important that you take some time alone to look after yourself and relax - so having a bubble bath, reading your favourite book, painting your nails, whatever activities you enjoy doing that make you feel more at peace and comforted. Being alone doesn’t always have to be a bad thing, and I honestly think it’s so important to try and keep reminding yourself of that. 

Is meeting new people and making friends something that you want to do? Something I would suggest is to look online, like on Tumblr, for a community which share a passion with you - for example, there are a lot of band and anime communities on Tumblr I know about. But I’m sure you would be able to find at least one person whom with you share a common interest, no matter how niche it is, and then you can chat with them about that? Also, have you considered joining any local groups or volunteer programmes near you? This would mean you got out of the house and socialised with others in your local area which can be a great way to start making new friends which I think will be particularly important for you when your current friends leave for college.

I also want to say that we are always here for you, and happy to talk to you about anything that will support you in feeling even a little better; I hope knowing that makes you feel slightly less alone. I hope this has reassured you a little, lovely, and that going forward you are able to find happiness. Please feel free to get in touch with us again if there is anything else that we can help you with!

Please take care,

Rhiann xo

[dreamoftowers]

uhhhhh mini life update nobody really asked for lmao

tw su*c*de, negativity //

okay so things have been very shitty lately, like extremely shitty. it’s gotten to points where i’m purposely putting myself into even shittier moods so i can try and make myself actively suicidal instead of being passive, and it still hasnt worked. i’m at a point where i wish i didnt have reasons to live- or rather, that i didnt care so much about those things so that i could have to will to just end it all already.

i’ve been separated from my friends by my controlling mom, so i now only have limited time to hang out with them. i wont get into how mom went about doing this, because im already depressed as shit and i dont wanna remember the details of it. just imagine it going Bad and me being emotionally and physically pained.

my friends are like family to me, and theyre the only real people i can truly be myself around freely and now theyre close to being out of my life. thats the main reason why ive been so bad lately. that, and because i was deprived of most of my friendships for a month, i got into such a lonely and depressed state that ive actively started to isolate myself from them even more. it hurts to only be with them for short amounts of time while being anxious about it the entire time, so i’d rather just keep away. i was stupid for ever letting myself get close to them in the first place knowing how my mom is. this is one of the many problems plaguing my life at the moment.

i’ve been reflecting on my life and how little of it ive spent of it being happy and/or free. i want to believe that things will get better once i leave for college but im not always sure. a large part of me wants to end this shitshow before it gets any worse, but theres another large part of me that wants to keep living to see if things do get better. honestly, i wish that second part of me didnt exist sometimes so i could just end it all without hesitation. there are times im ready to start writing a goodbye letter but i realize that it’d literally be 5 fucking pages long from all the shit i go thru / have gone thru, and i dont have the energy for all that.

my existence fucking aches and i just want it to end for fucks sake. 

anyway 

[howtomovefreely]

Objective (3-D) ¡  Keep track of lessons created to HELP (1) move freely throughout my day PHYSICALLY while tracking Triggers & Flashbacks (TF) AND NOW THE REFLECTION : huh?

This was an insurmountable task & I ALWAYS SAY, “EVERYTHING IS SURMOUNTABLE.”  It’s my two cats, one trying to mount the other & why I think about the question, “How did you get your cats?” and I start to see how fragments of sentences & words remind of other things, this not being the way my mind works only I was able to connect my thinking & not forget what I was saying. That is the same with reading and writing.  When there are multiple things in your life that mimicking each other & now visuals & touching are also areas that ARE WAY DIFFERENT.

     Two Options

Two options always, write or not write / to do any fine motor or gross motor requiring lifting or pulling my body & neck pain spikes!  

Weapon of choice is the pencil for graphite and the color gray / the color of truth a blended mix of black & white why we’re going to do this mother right 

PEACE, LOVE, HARMONY, CUDDLES & SAFE PLACES to LEARN, PLAY & WORK IN / found all my old loves c’est la vie for the only Revolution

Dreamed in French on day 18 & why when I travel I try to live like a native, naturally / doing natural things, breathing is the objective, the way to, to sing

For every ptsd memory there’s a LOVING ONE doing battles with weapons & ways of death that are still haunting me / the body/brain duality enacted in times of misery that lasted for 7 and 9-months & still you ask for evidence to NEVER discuss the solutions that could seriously change this child’s life right now?  To have harmony with two opposing forces, The Day & The Night, demanding their due, a validation that led to BOO HOO & why this was the point that I knew to FOCUS ON to PULL THROUGH.  It requires “true friends” who can’t do anything but supportive : it’s simply too easy not to do.

Accountability & Transparency : MODEL IT : How?!

ED IT all triggers that are present in a safe space : created 20+ and finding what is most natural & how to take breaks that are the right amount of time to adequately step away to “not die” but also not to lose the tri(grrr) since it WILL COME UP AGAIN & the point is to snuff it out with self-awareness & the decision to say, “NO!”

magic : intrinsic motivation that’s in all of us : change trigger to tiger

with any new skill or bad habit, nothing changes overnight

Teachers who scaffold have put THOUGHT into learning styles, classroom management & their own job performance which quite frankly, if you’re doing the RIGHT THING & open to feedback, there should be no worry

Document if “nighttime” is better in terms of “triggers” & moments “fear is present” since if you’re able to MAKE A SCHEDULE that ACCOMMODATES sleep. Zzz the #1 direct correlation to pain, anticipated pain, fatigue rate, stamina level, literally, do EVERYTHING since then you’ve eliminated while helping self at the same time & then it’s on the next hurdle...

Allow all safe spaces to be open & accessible if feeling “open & accessible” & if not, then it’s okay to closer all safe spaces!

When I forget about a safe space, I wasn’t meant to go there.  If I “trip” across it, the NOW NATURAL reaction of the body is to not try and FIND IT thinking “this could be the thing that fixes it all.”  after trauma you are...

trying to end it for all & hopeful that you can with THIS ONE : isn’t this kind of like sports pressure?  Any ADRENALINE can alter body state & prepare for flight, fight or freeze. LOWER THRESHOLD for pain

quick review 

all the time in my neck, back, trapezius & head (dizziness: constant 2-4/10 & increases with activities/movement) since 4/2016 no nausea 3-5x/hour; since 2/2018

Tracking after I stopped triggering from the “t” sound.  T for Teacher.  Going from NO MOVEMENT since hurt to YES MOVEMENTS since now I can work through the pain is literally going from one extreme to another : kind of how depression & mania work but these terms are way too harsh.  You’re cranky because you’re in pain & 3-4 even 7 days in a row (level: immobile & mostly in shower trying to dampen it while hurling a little & can’t hold you know what).  This makes you mental & created a palsy in my face & hands & couldn’t operate mobile.  That was 8-hours & one day I’ll provide all the details, but not here & not until I’m ready, 100%.  What a luxury & why I don’t have to question why my life [to them] was worthless since the next thought is THEIR LIVES.  THE KIDS WHO I TAUGHT & this is where neck pain goes up!  Finger pains are up!  I feel my elbow, arm, leg, thigh...

RELIEF When there’s an hour, a minute, a second when pain shifts or the for the first time I NOTICED I was getting a headache instead of anticiaipting pain constnatly, there was a break and for a second I was PAIN-FREE/SENSATION-FREE.  The seconds mattered since once I counted to 8 & even addd 2 since I probably didn’t notice right away, but only did that when it started getting beyond 8 seconds, and you do that too (whatever you feel) to NOTE what it is you’re really trying to say.  When it’s safe to feel safe, you just do!  When you’re body feels better & your mood lifts, you are thankful, at last since it’s getting BETTER

and what about when it gets worse...

you question.  you look.  you listen.  you “confront” & this is where that pesky word “disagreement” enters 

all the time HOPE : no dizziness ever!  For 10 seconds!  Maybe 15 seconds.  Celebrate all goals.  

Physical check-in

Able to crouch (20 secs), jump (twice), run for more than a minute if necessary and my pain is beginning to cause more cracks, pops in my neck when moving side-to-side and fully up & down!!!  (in order to hold that pose, needed to have head on couch, with hand support & only for 2 seconds and created a “rolling” motion) ∆ MUST recognize impact & this is probably why so many things have been broken around me.  I grab too hard or not on target.  So go slower, but have more pain since quicker movements allow my body’s nerves to glide, but to go slow is the next step.  SLOW IT DOWN & let body adjust as you did when you had to go FAST to lower pain, problems with STIGMA (health care, big time!) & at the same time, a natural pain release.  

Did you know nerves like to glide?  

When I learned this 1.5 years in, it changed my life.  It’s allowed me to have minimal control over pain & that’s important.  So the last 3 years have been mastering the glide & slide & whirl & twirl & crouch & whip & hold & kiss.  These are easy movements because I demand that I get them down in order to be prepared for what’s unpredictable.  I can predict my pain so stay ahead of it.  Be ready for what comes at you without warning.  People.  Cars.  Lies.  Abuses.  Triggers.  Warnings & hate-filled assholes who will use whatever they can to “avoid blame.”  I’m ready to tell this story : It takes a very long time to get to safe place for your entire body.  The focus before was SUICIDE.  REMOVE that & there’s no problems so identified what it was 

Feeling of worthlessness that people did to you by lying to your face and removing safety becuase no one had CONTROL ✔️✔️

Removing it : present tense : currently doing that by sharing triggers to create “safe spaces” that is an iCloud.  REAL clouds remind self life is always changing, just like emotions, moods & feelings & this is LITERATURE & why it gets the biggest thank you of all!  There is never the same sky at any minute & how amazing to think all the different sunsets & sunrises they’ll be in one lifetime?  I’m not sure sure we’re not gazing at the clouds more, but for now the iCloud is the way to scatter their shit & since I wrote this, I know it’s flipped.

Live naturally, meaning desire for every breath, never done redundantly.  Life is death & death is what scares us, but never me, having faced that already at an early age, this physical abuse, you’re in the moment asking “What did I do?” but in this case, it was “How can you keep doing this?” and other questions, oh yes, I will persist.  I don’t know the word QUIT when it involved the HARMS these people in power positions did & no alarms were sounded. Discriminating children with special needs is NOT HOW MY WORLD WAS FOUNDED.

EDucate it : elevate difference : never be frustrated : the words I write are actually EVIDENT or NOT EVIDENT : how the hell can someone keep ignoring this!?

ED IT : 1st STEP ∆ Prerequisite knowledge ø brain structure, features, form/function, how to keep it healthy & why I am not going to teach anatomy or physiology, my strength is combining teams that have DESIRE to work collaboratively...

...in a nutshell, you go back to the past to learn how to adjust to the present (which was too harrowing due to violence)

ORGANIZE IT : 2nd STEP ∆  Labeled according to TYPE (1) put artIfacts away by maintaining a record of what I’ve learned about auditory processing & all factors that affect Attention, Concentration, Awareness of self, mind, body, environment & (2) learn from it now that I have my “thinking” back since physically head sensations have been diminished after leaving THE MOST UNHEALTHY SITUATION : stigma in the health care field & their very acts of denial of safety, acceptance of NO KNOWLEDGE & insistence of an opinion without any supporting evidence is what the PROBLEM is.  IDENTIFIED it & now, let’s fix it. 

Do this process with consciousness, finally, since it all goes out & that’s the FEAR, of telling the truth, that hasn’t sat well with me?  Ok, let’s explore this...

TYPE (vague on purpose) : H or S or HS or SH (depending on which one is MAIN versus which is a Trigger or Flashback e.g. SHT | crying and use of words “I’m going to kill you” or “I’m going to poke your eyes out” or “I’m going to kill myself” since happened in both settings, S, first (supported by H) and led to Flashback so direct connection to WORSE emotion which lead to issues of self-control; self-regulation due to darkness (most severe that snuffs out hope) 

this is code

Here’s the key:  the violence that occurred in a school/work setting was repeated in a home setting with the purpose of making it WORSE for someone who has verbally explained all fears in exactly the way that it happened.  These PTSD memories are obvious & they feel smaller every day now.  Called shit (as in their bullshit) and finally, scum since I see a dirty pond or marsh & when it’s in the bathroom, it’s really gross.  We’ve got the word & now let’s move on

What is necessary to shake TRAUMA : remove scum.  EZ

SENSING that boundary between “this is enough” & “I’ve had enough” : snuffs out humiliation : (2-D) ¡  A devotion to self, an unshakeable self-esteem to never need validation & what’s the harm in THIS : shows WHO IS IN YOUR BRAIN & if it’s a voice form the past who blamed you for something & you fight TO PROVE them wrong, you’ve chosen the wrong person since they vouched for you ALRIGHT : the goal : put all these pesky ptsd memories/moments away & to do that VALIDATE them & to do that show how EMOTIONS works in individuals who MUST guess & why must they guess . . . they’re observing, too and what do they see?!  Those without a way to understand emotions are trying their hardest & this is what I’ve learned with kids & adults with emotional dysregulation, they really need validation to say “you’re doing the right thing” even if it’s the wrong thing.  They can’t process their own behaviors because of PAIN & HURT they’ve felt every single day of their lives...

That creates an absolute & that means to VERBAL CUE : all, no one, every time, always, never, everyone, words that indicate in ability to properly & honestly self-assess.  This the power white color to get me to a blank canvas a spark a desire to create & what is it that I’m creating.  One FINal lesson to say this is what I’ve learned about violence & what should never be accepted.  Hypocrisy, cruelty & evil.  There is no other word for it. 

This is their first weapon in distracting from the real issues : destroy your voice

Said it 1,000,000x : good use of exaggeration & now GROWTH can accelerate

anxiety USES fears to maintain a buzz of constant attention, areas where voice matters (for once) : & now activate the USE of GUILT

sadness OVERWHELMED by acute loneliness over extended periods & this self-Identity of being REJECTED becomes too much 

anger that pops out of nowhere & the instantaneous sense of overwhelming loss of control where people “feel unsafe” so the rallying cry is to stabilize the one that is “losing it” and oh no oh no oh no...

A sense of immediate reaction heightened & then disappears is a cycle between _ _ _ _ _ and _ _ _ _ _ . 

sum up these emotions, give them their rightful owners & send it to the universe  

Process ¡  Emphasize cyclical relationship between mind + body & how tech can help & harm | How to understand FAITH in the invisible “truths” one must accept with tech since what you say is EXPERT & SPECIALIZED knowledge THROUGH GENERATIONAL dysfunction guided by PTSD memories of WHAT WAS GIVEN/PROVIDED/TAUGHT in childhood | not going to mention my childhood except when the ptsd memory relates to the very wrong assumption that was the catalyst for the past to come rushing up at me due to denial of bodily safety & continuation of denials after repeated attempts at some response. 

How many false starts & first days as the next day becomes a blank of the previous & makes me question how do organizational systems work...WORTH IT

Day 1:  Absolutes & Identify 2-D transformed to A, B, C --->  3-D

Always, never, no one, everyone : INTRO 1/10 t FLIP worst to best & to encourage hope | T-note

did this spontaneously above, noting the frequency of absolute which  means that ptsd memory is ready to bring into the light & it goes HERE ✔️

First step in identifying self is identifying self in all the ways you identify with.  This is from the past the bold ones are still true today.  Whatever is added at the end is added at the end & this is how you learn about yourself.  You think deeply & take risks at exposure & why you find a partner to trust since the only thing in this world are the stories you tell each other, to be who you want to be, and to a survivor, you want to be not damaged, not hurting & not scared.  

still the same !!! ✔️American, femme, cis-gender, warrior badass subconscious unicorn berserker : a teachable moment personified : imagineer & humanist who doesn’t know “no” : mentally fierce - emotionally complex - behaviorally predictable & severely feeling thanks to NERVE DAMAGE, TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY & several tag teams who told me, showed me, insisted, than persisted to reveal how they LOATHE DIFFERENCE to reveal HOW people can DO what they claim “I’ll never do!”  That was the crux of it all  what triggers one person is the SAME : the lie of “I never intended to...”

be stronger than these warmongers ✔️

activate imagination ✔️

destroy negative thinking while simultaneously launching love bombs one after the other meaning any opportunity to do good in small & large moments you take them, press in, and see what pops up.  Perhaps there’s beauty in places you never considered possible ✔️✔️🚀

The Confirmation 

How to successfully rebuild a life : prerequisite for SELF-LOVE, SELF-CARE & SELF-IMAGE is TRUST in SELF : use what you know, what you want to know & reflect on what you’ve learned to create the path that works for you.  I think I just did it.  I was honest with “safe” people from my past & their response was really kind.  Thank you for that.  It’s pretty easy once you get a sense for people & who they are when there’s “trouble” or “grief” or “pain” & you question how that happens?  What lives have they led?  

[defendglobe]

this line fucking hit deep. this was what upset me so much that i had to leave the house. because its too close to home.

not to be super morbid but like. that’s exactly what’s going to happen to me and i know it. i have almost no connections anymore.

every day i get more and more isolated. most of my old irl friend group doesnt talk to me anymore and for good reason!! they are doing so so much better now that im out of their lives and while im happy for them its a depressing pattern. i remember back in jr high how my friend group was the only thing that kept me going lol. it makes being alive a lot harder now that i don’t have anyone to live for you know?

tumblr friends are all fun and good but when it comes down to it i feel like they just like me because i say funny things sometimes. and that the only reason they give me the time of day is because of that and that they dont know me in real life so they can see what a fat stupid socially inept waste of a person i am.

and then i go and pull shit like fucking not speaking to irisa or helen for months because i cant bring myself to message them. they’ve got enough to deal with without my dead weight bringing them down even more. they deserve better than that lol. i feel like its only a matter of time before it happens to someone else because im just a drain on everyone i touch.  (if any of you read this im sorry and its really not you its me)

im such a toxic shitty selfish person. i make everything about me and am too stupid and/or self centered to think about anyone else. 

my roommates all think im damned to hell for being born a lesbian (and if they’re too dense to figure that out then they think im damned to hell for thinking that its ok to be gay or non christian or some fucking thing) and that’s fine!! whatever!! hell doesn’t exist anyway and i dont need their approval. 

it just gets so tiring having to fight every single day and being so in the minority in your opinion that you are never heard. especially when the fight you have to keep up is “there’s nothing wrong with my existence”. its just one more fucking thing. 

my fucking dad doesn’t even like me any more and even though ive tried so fucking hard to fix it things only get worse. i dont even really know why hes so angry at me all the time. is it because i couldn’t find a job this summer? because my mental health issues prevent me from being a normal active teenager and i have to do things a lot slower than most people?? because he thinks its appalling that im 20 and still live at home most of the time??

sometimes i worry that its because im gay. (lol there’s smething ive never said before!!) like hes ok with it as a concept but hes uncomfortable with having a gay daughter in reality. or because i dont want to have kids and hes from a very big family. i dont know!! he wont fucking communicate so who knows what it is.

and while i really do wish i could meet some girl and have a relationship how the hell is that going to happen when i barely even have friends and no skills to make them. the one time i did have a gf i totally killed it because im too goddamn distant and clueless with relationships which im sure made her feel like i didnt like her. (in reality i probably liked her more than she did me which honestly is all my friendships in a nutshell bc im so desperate for any interaction lol) and ever since things have been fucking weird and i know its my fault for opening my damn ass mouth in the first place.

who am i to inflict myself on anyone else anyway? im too goddamn mentally ill to have a relationship without making a hypothetical girlfriend miserable. i dont want to hurt anyone else with my self destructive shit. the self harming and the self isolating for days at a time or the terrible reckless shit i do that borders on halfassed suicide attempts. shit like stepping out into traffic without thinking or taking too many pills. ive stopped watching what i eat and what makes me feel sick. in fact i sometimes eat shit i know makes me sick on purpose. its weird i know. 

i feel i deserve it. i feel like hurting is what i deserve. for being so useless and unfit to be alive. i dont think im capable of happiness because of who i am. it feels like the only way i can ever be at peace is by not existing.

i just wish i didnt feel this way at all but some days it feels inescapable because of how isolated i am and how hopeless things have been for so long. i have nowhere else to go and nothing to live for and no one to stop me in any way that doesnt feel hollow and empty. 

im not planning on doing anything right now so please don’t worry about me. im alright for now. i just needed to vent.

[thenightisland]

you know the drill:

this is becoming like its own series but idk how else to explain this awful year i don’t even feeling like properly linking so here’s just the URLs of the other ones in the series: 1. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161087786689/explanationsupdates-under-the-cutmore-i 2. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161920216354/additional-updatesexplanations-under-the-cut 3. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/163767959805/updates-under-the-cutmore-post-one-post-two-on 4. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/164398486219/on-the-fourth-edition-of-what-the-fuck-is

one of the assessors got jumped a while back. she was just walking past a pt in the main assessment dept and he jumped up, punched her in the back of the head, took her to the ground and beat the fuck out of her. she was out for weeks and weeks and had broken facial bones. i can’t believe she didn’t quit.

our nurse executive quit though. not like, went prn or gave two weeks notice, like just straight up was like I’M DONE and walked out which honestly is the closest i’ve ever come to respecting him.

while having more psychologically unstable pts isn’t new, having more medically unstable pts has been a problem lately. like our crash cart is not like a medical hospital’s crash cart it’s like. an ambu bag some iv supplies and a stethoscope no lifesaving medications. when a pt has a medical issue we send them out to a medical hospital because obv we don’t have the resources to treat complex medical issues where we work. which didn’t used to be an issue because you’d used to see maybe two medical codes a year on my unit. we’ve had /ten/ since my last update post /just on my shift/. two of which weren’t even “pt is going downhill fast” codes they were “pt has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing” like we had to fucking bring two people back from the goddamn dead /within ten minutes of each other/. we’re all like we’re psych nurses man if we wanted to do this shit we’d work er. [and the er we’re required to send these pts to is awful like they sent us back a guy who had almost died twice in three days who had an /untreated brain tumor/ bc obv he’s totally fine]. or we’ve been doing mash unit style medicine like the suicidal kid with partial thickness burns all over his chest and neck that literally no one was doing anything about. we were debriding burns with a mixture of different PO IM and SQ drugs to achieve the same effect as IV morphine because debriding is extremely painful but not doing it will just make things worse and no one else seemed to care so we just fucking did it. like we’ve done so much medical nursing lately. like the one with the uncontrolled severe seizures that led to the medical hospital labeling her first break schizophrenia despite no family history of mental illness but /five different medical issues that all cause psychosis/. or the one they let on the unit despite being on the do not readmit who has untreated hiv that he actively tries to give to other people and /active tuberculosis/. or the one with the aneurysm. or the one with severe CHF. and on and on and on. and remember: we’re not the most medically unstable unit in the hospital because we have a 40 bed /geriatric psych unit/ so you can imagine the kind of pts /they’re/ getting. on the plus side, all of our ten odd codes lived.

my personal life is still a goddamn mess, of course, but that’s a given. don’t even know where to begin with all that. and i can’t talk about a lot of it which makes it that much more fun.

i had an entire crisis about the odyssey [which tbh is still kind of going on even after /weeks/] because i’m getting so cagey in memphis because i fucking hate this town. and i just got back from new orleans which is the closest thing i have to an ithaca at the moment and it killed me to come back to this fucking city.

i’m also really paranoid right now because after i come back from vacations, something terrible always happens and i’m not exaggerating it’s like clockwork to the point that the bad things have all happened between friday and sunday after i’ve returned from my vacation, each time, without fail. well that would be this weekend so i am just waiting to see what great horrors await me this goddamn time. [last time, it was the whole coworker killed in vehicular homicide thing]. but i guess paranoia isn’t the right word. you’re only paranoid if you’re wrong, and my life has already set the precedent. so i guess anxious is the better word.

the anxiety is increased given that my mother has been out of work all week because they’ve had trouble regulating her blood sugar and so she’s been really sick and even said so herself she’ll probably end up in the er over the weekend because she doesn’t think she can make it till her next doc appt because she’s miserable, and she’s already been in the er once when this weird shit started happening a month or so ago so the Vacation Curse has me even more concerned than usual, which is saying something. 

there’s a new psych doc working now and everyone is really unsettled by him and we’re pretty sure he’s a genuine psychopath like completely without exaggeration and he’s already done a lot of really creepy things to/with staff members and one nurse said in passing “i’ve known a lot of doctors like him he’ll end up fucking a pt at some point” which we initially left to hyperbole but he’s been doing shit like transporting female pts to other units without the staff’s consent in his own car which is like all kinds of not allowed, and the way he talks to some of the staff is just downright rapey honestly. and so we had a rough case this summer who, through the combined efforts of my squad, we got her from a diagnosis of intellectual disability with schizophrenia, nonverbal, self harming all the time, history of physical and sexual abuse, constantly in restraints and on a 1:1 obs level to a new diagnosis of autism spec with ptsd because her “hallucinations” were /flashbacks/ and she ended up very social and verbose and like fucking read william blake for fun and had a great sense of humor and was off all special observations and had a transfer to another facility pending so she could get more 1:1 long term therapy, and the creepy doctor was covering her case while her actual doc was out of town and he rode all the way to the other hospital with her which is another thing you do not do, and we found out from a coworker that she is now a /2:1/ [two staff members within arm’s reach 24/7], self harming again, in full shutdown/meltdown mode, and nonverbal. and it was such a rapid deterioration that all of us lost sleep over the possibility that this creepy doctor might have done something because even after she was at the other hospital and therefore no longer our pt, /he kept going to see her/. which fucked us up a lot because we were the ones who worked so hard for so long with her. like even the thought of it.

recently had 25th birthday so naturally had a crisis about that because i’d always said my goal was to be out of memphis by 25 and yet here we are. 

another of our fave pts, esp one of /my/ fave pts, died out of literally nowhere. the day before my birthday. so that was great.

also felt really surreal to see the news about the convictions in the holly bobo case, which i found out about when one of my coworkers was reading the news on his phone during a lull one night i forgot that to him and everyone else it’s a national news story [hell it even has its own wikpedia page] but to me it’s just /holly/ because she was /in the class above me in our nursing program/. my first semester in college i remember seeing her face on missing posters on every building on campus. so it was really a weird moment of dissociation for me. glad the motherfucker was found guilty on all charges, obv. 

the tech of mine who got his skull slammed into the floor, the one who’s been out with what can only be called severe psychological trauma, is supposed to be coming back the third week in october. which i just. i mean i’m glad because he’s one of our best guys, but i’m also like /why the fuck would he come back/ because he could be a fucking english professor again. motherfucker spent part of his youth growing up in italy and montreal, lived on the west coast for years, /was/ a college professor, did time as a script doctor in LA, and was a fucking thriller novelist who just gone girled himself for whatever reason and ended up working with us. there’s literally a reddit thread asking if anyone knows what happened to him and i want to be like don’t worry it’s fine he works with me. but so we’re like why would you come back to this place after what happened to you when you have so many other options available to you????? what are you running from that makes you so desperate to keep centering your life around a locked acute psych ward???? why did you gone girl yourself to begin with??? like he was screwed up enough there for a while that he wasn’t even answering his calls or texts and our boss had to send the police to do welfare checks on him because he lives alone so it’s like man why not go back to the life you had before and /get away from all of this/ it’s not like my situation where i’d rather be living a different life but have never done so, he already has the foundation because he’s already lived a different life he has an in that i don’t have and i can’t for the life of me figure out why he thinks working as an acute pysch tech is the better option. 

but i mean. we /do/ call our unit the hotel california for a reason.

[mc-dankenstein]

yup here’s another vent post it’s not really like last time where i was basically in the middle of a fucking breakdown but there’s just too much pent up shit i need to figure out and deal with and i feel like i’m going insane?? uni is literally sucking my will to live from me. or, well, what was left of it i guess. like, i knew it was gonna be bad, but it’s just so much worse than i could’ve ever imagined?? btw this is just gonna be me dumping out all of my stupid problems and pretending they’re valid when in reality they’re just so insignificant compared to what so many people are going through so please just stop reading, i’m not in the mood for sympathy or ppl trying to “make it better”, i know your intentions might be in the right place cause i truly have found some wonderful friends here who i know care abt me, but i cannot find it in me to try and pretend something’s better because of our conversation rn, nor do i have the strenght or the time to actively try and make it better myself. i’m just ranting to get this shit out. of. my. system. bc i feel as if i’m gonna explode otherwise. things are not good. i’ve been crying a lot more and a lot more frequently again, i’ve been having attacks and i’m once again feeling super fucking anxious all the time. i can’t talk to my family about it, i can’t talk to my friends about it, bc the result is always either them telling me “it’s normal” or me bursting into tears out of fucking nowhere and i can’t let them see that. ive been studying nonstop for months now to the point where i can’t sleep properly anymore cause the only things going through my brain are a countdown to my next exam i’m probably not gonna pass and the thought i could at least use the time i’m wasting by trying to sleep to study more. and like everybody’s been telling me it’s okay, no one passes exams on their first year anyway, but we all know that’s not true. even my mom’s been trying to be supportive in her own way but i know it’s just her trying to make me feel better when she’s actually so fucking disappointed in me, she’s always been, especially since i started manifesting all my stupid anxiety symptoms i’d been trying to hide for so long, even if she tries not to show it i know i’m just a disappointment to her. she’s been calling me to ask me how i’m doing and to tell me to relax a bit in between study sessions and each and every time i’ve been on the verge of tears and i had to try and calm my sobs so that she won’t hear them through the phone. it just hurts so fucking much to be so far from what she’d deserve from me, and it hurts to be back to square one after literally everybody told me about how much i’d changed and how much better i seemed to be doing, how much more confident and strong i looked and i feel like a fucking moron for allowing myself to believe what they said. for a while i actually thought “y’know what? i actually am doing better” and yet here i am now, studying my best years away and not even getting any actual results from that other than frustration, anger and disappointment, i still have not passed a single goddamned exam and everybody around me feels like i’m stable enough to carry all of their emotional luggage as well as mine. and i feel like shit about phrasing that last one that way bc it seems like i’m not a supportive friend who only wants to see the people i care about thrive and be well when i like to think i am. this has been such a shit year, right from the start. and it still makes me sick that i wasn’t there for all of them when they needed me the most. in the span of less than two months my new uni friend, the only person i feel like i’ve connected with since i moved to the other side of the fucking country, has been opening up to me about her own anxiety problems, her bad relationship with her family and the fact that uni gave her panic attacks for the first time in her life; one of my best friends from home told me she attempted suicide, and i still can’t think about that without blaming myself for disappearing bc my brain just couldn’t handle shit then and i needed some time off from people in general, so i didn’t text her, i didn’t call her, we just briefly saw each other when i came home for less than a week in may and then a whole week of silence. i KNEW her past experiences, i KNEW she’d been having a lot of issues with depressive episodes and i KNEW she needed me and yet i did the asshole thing and just couldn’t pick up the fucking phone to send her a single text cause i couldn’t handle a conversation with another human being when i was about to shut down completely, and i didn’t know anything about what happened until i finally did text her a week later abt some stupid shit i’d seen on youtube and she told me everything got so bad that she tried to drink bleach and end it all. i would’ve been too late and i didn’t even realize. if she succeeded i would’ve sent that text and nobody would’ve answered. and i’ve been trying to react in the way i think is best for her, and she says i’m really helping bc i know how she feels and what she’s going through, but in reality i honestly don’t know what i’m doing and she’s the second person i know other than me who’s been suicidal, and she’s the second person i’m so terrified to talk to sometimes, even though i know from my own experience they need to have someone who cares about them to reassure them and just be there, because i’m scared shitless i’ll say something and fuck everything up and make it worse for them. i talk to them like i’m so strong since i’ve been through the same things and put up this mask of someone who’s actually better now, but i actually sincerely and honestly have no idea how to handle the situation. and then there’s my other best friend who i honestly have been treating like shit. she’s going through so much and i’ve been so distant and she doesn’t deserve that. even typing this out is exhausting and it’s making me feel so fucking guilty bc i have another exam tomorrow and i should be studying instead, and everyone keeps telling me “just relax, you’ve done enough” or “it doesn’t really matter wheter you pass it or not” except that it does. it does for my mom, it does matter because it would prove that i’m not really wasting my time and my parent’s money to be in a university where i so clearly don’t belong, it does because every time i’ve tried i’ve gotten so frustratingly close to passing that now i’m just fucking angry. i think i had a train of thought i wanted to follow in the beginning but now idk anymore and i’m tired and angry and i seriously need to go study so fuck it, i’ll leave it at this.

[aquarianlights]

Hey Killian, it’s been a good minute huh? That one strangers back from a long stay in an institution. I’m sorry for not being around to give you the kind words I wanted to. You’re a beautiful man my dear. I love that you can go into long flowing monologues over the littlest things. The way you put words together is unlike anybody I’ve met before. Keep being you, my dear Killian. You’re stronger than you know and I believe you can be anything you want. You can do it!

It’s okay. You need to take care of yourself, too, okay? I’m going through a major, major rough patch in my life and honestly the only place I can vent is on a completely anonymous site where no one can find me. It’s the one and only place I keep anonymity. Which is very weird. I mean, I’m transparent about who I am and everything but the site is so... small and unknown that no one would ever trace me back to anything like the normal social media sites. It’s unreal. I’ve used it a lot in the past, but I was never really, er... anonymous on it. I stretch the truth a bit on there to make me feel more comfortable. Nothing about my life. Everything about my life on there is true. More-so facts about me. For instance, I don’t disclose my transgender status and pass myself off as cisgender very blatantly. Little things about myself like that that would make a reader NOT connect it to ME. Lies about Killian not being my first name. Lies about my initials. As my initials are KQR. Stuff like that so if someone WERE to find me outside of that site, they wouldn’t so much be able to connect the dots unless they were to find this answer right here, which is highly unlikely. But honestly... if it does come to light, I wouldn’t be that upset about it. Because the lies aren’t big and it’s not like I’m forming friendships or bonds with anyone there. And no one looks up to me or forms bonds with me like they do on social media. It’s more of a ....follow my journal entries and send me messages if you want. I can make certain entries private if I want. Blah blah blah. Like. I don’t make anything private, obviously. Anyone who knows me would know that. In fact, anyone who knew me WAY back in the day would actually know what site I’m talking about and yes, if you’re one of those people and you’re thinking about a certain site that I used to be very popular on a long time ago anonymously in the top most popular diaries/journals section for... gosh, months, years? I don’t even know. But if you’re thinking of it, you’re right and yes I’m back there and yes feel free to go find me. I’m p easy to find if you know what to look for. My entries are all true to my life so if you know what site I’m talking about, then you’d be p intimately involved in my life in some way (or... a stalker of some sort LOL) so you’d instantly be able to read even ONE of my entries and know it was mine either from my writing style or from the content of my life that I write about.

I mean, I’m definitely not suppressing emotions like I used to. That’s stupid and immature and the most childish thing anyone can do. Like, no, I’m not a fucking teenager. I’m 26. I’m not suppressing anything. I express my emotions freely and let them flow however and whenever I want or need them to in whatever way I desire wherever I desire. But it’s also nice to have a place where I can be completely anonymous to every single goddamn person on that site and just... be able to vent nonstop and not bother anyone because of my chronic pain issues and the psych issues that come with having severe chronic pain and the stress that goes along with my life and my majors in my two schools. It’s ridiculous.

I don’t know if it’s been scientifically proven that bitching and whining and being loud and noisy about your issues when they’re severe and interfering with your daily life can help... but it has ALWAYS helped me. ESPECIALLY when they’re physical. I feel like that’d be a neuroscientific view of triggering the active distraction mode versus the passive distraction mode in your brain when you literally cannot do anything because of the physical pain and there are no pills or IM or IV meds to help anymore and all the physical therapy, electrode therapy, gels, creams, patches, and anything else will not help. The only thing left is a neurologist... and for that, I have to wait for my insurance to transfer. Sigh. LONG fucking wait and who knows if it even will, tbh. Fuck the government. Fuck america.

Anyways... I’m just having a really rough time because that’s the biggest issue right now and that’s just overshadowing all the other “major” issues which would be like... the major issues in a normal person’s life that would p much shut down even the most neurotypical of people, but I seem to be handling it like a boss. So idk. I’m a fucking demi-god, though, so that’s why probably. Pfft.

I cannot even BEGIN to list the amount of adulting things I am doing on the daily that people are not even slightly seeing because it’s all overshadowed by the fact I need really long breaks and need to be laying down a lot because of the fact I now have the prodromal symptoms to scoliosis and need an MRI stat. So that would just be fucking FANTASTIC to add on top of fibro and ehlers danlos. Fucking shoot me, tbh. I’d take death over this chronic pain any day. ANY DAY.

The pain is so bad that I’d take all the years of suicidal MDD where I was attempting suicide every other day and slicing myself to shreds all the time, barely existing as just a pile of apathy and lethargy, unable to even function as a normal human being coz I was too busy trying to die all the time and fighting with all the people who were forcing me to stay alive.

I literally stabbed myself with a pen just to try to take my mind off of chronic pain and see if acute pain would make it better. Wanted to stab myself with a steak knife but couldn’t do it... coz my A&P classes have me freaked out I might hit something... ugh. And I begged my roommates to hit me over the head with heavy objects or punch me as hard as they could in the temple or strangle me or rip a chunk of my hair out or stab me for me or ANYTHING that would cause major acute injury/pain. They wouldn’t do it. And the pen stab felt like a mosquito bite for about 2 seconds. And all my very serious migraines that impair me to the point of being unable to function at all just feel like pressure now. My joint and muscle pain from fibro and ehlers danlos... are practically gone because of how bad my spinal pain is. And when they examined it, sure enough, ligaments were out of place and either popped out or inflamed...very badly. And the lumbar region ... that part of the spine was just... too far down. It was reaching way too far down into me and sharply pressing onto or into something. And it’s twisted. The wrong way. And it’s fucking agonizing. Thank fuck the doctor was like “Jesus christ, fuck the opioid epidemic... you need this.” Because everything I have been using---voltaren gel, tens machine electrode therapy, lidocaine patches, oral nsaids at the maximum dosage, tylenol at the maximum dosage switched every two days with nsaids, lyrica, physical therapy, valium, who knows what else at this point---hasn’t done a single thing and it is only getting worse and worse every single day. And it’s getting to the point where my gait and my speech and my gestures and my vision and my concentration are..... gone, so to speak. And I’m experiencing the worst sense of vertigo ever and I’ve almost blacked out so many times that it’s terrifying because I have to lay on the nearest object---NOT lean, but LAY. The floor, a bed, a table, a chair.. LAY down on it. Otherwise, I would black out. And I have absolutely NO idea why.

A neurologist is my last and final hope... coz I’ve seen every single other fucking major specialist, barring a chiropractor which is a LAST resort option. If anyone is medical... you’ll all know why and I know you’re all snickering and nodding along with me.

ANYWAYS

Life is fucking painful and I am playing Dark Souls on nightmare mode. I thought living with crippling suicidal depression and a ton of psychotic disorders was daunting and impossible to live with. HAHA. Fucking hell, man. I look back at all those years and fucking LAUGH thinking about it compared to the pain I feel right now. NOTHING compares to it and I would take it all back and get off my medications if someone would just take all of this pain and these physical issues away. For fucks sake. ...thought it was impossible to live with... thought it was the worst thing in the world... I was such a child. Lmao.

So..... that’s the major thing that’s overshadowing everything else that would break a normal, neurotypical person and would probably break neurodivergents just thinking about it, nevertheless doing it, so idk how the fuck I’m functioning. I really don’t know. Here I am at 6am writing this reply because the pain is always too intense to sleep with. Even with these pain killers. Sigh. Fuck this.

Ahem... Rant over. I really go on rants about the most random of things. Jeeze. But that’s why I love myself. And why a lot of people love me. Or hate me. Either or. Doesn’t matter which. Haha.

But I really hope you were put on the “good” side and not the “bad” side or the “bad” building so that you don’t have ward induced PTSD or came out worse than going in. I’ve never been on the good side, but everyone who has are the people who are always the ones who are the ones saying “No omg wards saved my life and they are great whine whine wards are amazing and I’m gonna voluntarily commit myself every time I’m feeling anxious now hahah they’re so good for the soul!” and stupid stuff like that. Maybe not to that extreme NORMALLY, but I damn well HAVE seen it to that extreme quite a few times and dear god it’s annoying because they are the ones who are set in their ways and won’t listen because they’ve been in wards so, obviously, there’s no such thing as a “bad” side or they would know. So they call to find out or ask at their next voluntary admission and see if there’s such a thing and when they get the answer of “no” on the good side, they come back adamant that there’s no such thing because they don’t know how that works, how the laws work, and what the entire purpose of the “good” versus “bad” sides are and how they came about in an historical context and they don’t even bother to listen attentively for the slight codes over the speakers or the hushed phone calls to and from each side. Or, if they’re lucky, it’s COMPLETELY out of sight and out of mind because it’ll be a completely different building instead of a different floor or different wing. And then they get REALLYYYYYYYYYYY set in their fucking ways. In that case, it’s fucking IMPOSSIBLE to talk them out of it because “Well what you said didn’t happen, so it’s wrong. Duh.” Yikes. Just... yikes. Like, hello, hi, yes, I’m Killian and I stopped counting my institutionalizations at 20 times so I don’t know how many I’ve been in now but I’m p sure I know how it works now. Not to mention I dated someone who worked at one. So you can just, uh, fuck the hell off, yeah? (That’s usually some snarky response I have in my head when I’m flabbergasted at the ignorance these people have, honestly, to not know of the existence of the separation of the two and WHY they are separate and WHY it’s all hush hush when you’re on the good side and you don’t hear about it and WHY you have a grand fucking jolly good time on the good side and feel it genuinely helped, WHITE BECKY. ugh. Me at these people, seen below, as a corgi.)

.

..

...

BUT ER YEAH SO UH

I really hope you were on the good side so that you actually got help and so that you didn’t come out worse and with a huge extra shot of PTSD attached to your already very valid issues. And I’m so sorry if you got accidentally or purposefully thrown on the bad side. It happens accidentally a lot. Hell, an older woman with Alzheimer’s was on my unit once. It helped everyone, though. There wasn’t any blood spilled while she was there because everyone was doing their best to help her. She didn’t belong there at all and it was just her grandkids fucking her over for some reason we weren’t privy to and ... oh jesus christ, man, like thank fuck I have a heavy medical background. Came in handy. Really did. Ofc, as soon as she left, it was back to the blood and nonstop fights and lockdowns and thorazine cocktails and getting strapped down for nothing more than a sarcastic comment and all the physical and verbal abuse from staff and patients alike and the not getting seen or heard and this and that blah blah blah I could go on for hours.

But ahhhhhhh......... Just really hoping they purposefully (or even accidentally... either way is perfect) put you on the good side and you came out either the same, okay, or better for it. Take care of yourself and heed your own advice.

I want you to do something for me, okay nons? I want you to take every bit of those kind words you say to me and I want you to imprint them on yourself. Can you do that for me? Take all those words and internalize them and make them your own. If it helps, imagine I’m saying them to you. Okay?

I mean, in the end, you do you. Coz you’re an awesome person and a loved person. So... if that means ward time, then okay. That’s fine. You do you. I had to learn that the hard way. It’s not a bad thing. The only bad thing is the PTSD associated with it all and ofc all the things associated with PTSD... which is uh... you know... kind of er.. LIFE CHANGING IN THE WORST OF WAYS.

SO take care of yourself, okay? Dw about me. If I die, then it’s a purely good thing. If I live, then it’s an equally good thing and bad thing. Either way, I win in both scenarios. Since there is no getting rid of chronic pain. Especially the two chronic conditions I’ve been diagnosed with and now THIS spinal thing that I have no idea what it is except the prodromal to scoliosis or possibly actually scoliosis. . .which could and WOULD destroy my life. So. Right now, I have no reason to live, tbh, The pain is THAT intense. Yes, I have reasons but they’re overshadowed by how intense the pain is... Except for Echo. He’s the only thing thing I’d have a hard time leaving. I’d have to find someone I know and trust with steady finances throughout their entire adult life who knows how to handle spitz breeds and can properly take care of a neurotic 17lb pomeranian and really has the time to devote to him and all.

Most people cannot handle a pomeranian or spitz breeds in general and I honestly did not know that until I got Echo and owned him. I thought I knew what I was getting into just from extensive research and my grooming parlour history and my volunteering history and my pet sitting history. But... no... I had no fucking idea the extent at which you have to go for spitz breeds. And double coats. It’s... WAY above and beyond. And then on top of that, he’s diagnosed neurotic which is a little different in terms of what that means in dogs than in humans. So he’s, er... snappy and he’s very... adversarial. 

“A neurotic dog can be defined as a dog that is excessively anxious and highly emotionally upset.”“If your dog seems moody, in need of constant reassurance, and excessively suspicious of other dogs or cats in the house, or even of human beings then chances are you've a neurotic dog.”Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/1113508

That’s a pretty damn good and concise article on canine neurosis. Echo is more extreme in his neurosis than most. It happened before we got him. That’s why they called him “The Bully” and told us “Oh no, you don’t want him” when I was adamant that “Uh yes. That is going to be my dog and you cannot tell me otherwise. I don’t want the others. I want him. He is my dog. He is MY dog. I am HIS human. We are family. . .” I have never had a connection wth an animal like I do with my son.

...which is why I cannot die for him. And why I DO have one reason to live for that DOES overrule the pain and how intense it is.

The rest of my reasons... some come close, some are right at the border... some are right ON the border... but none are above it. If you get my drift. Echo is the only thing keeping me here.

...and honestly? It sucks. It sucks that I have to remain here because that’s how bad the pain is. My dreams to stick with pre-med and follow it through all the way to my dream residency program and one day be an attending at that hospital and take on a fellowship.... That is one of the VERY few things that are so close to the top of the border that it’s almost bursting through to Echo level... but not quite. And that kills me. Because I finally found my purpose and I may be knocked out of the game before I can even find out if I can make it there. Because of my body and because of physical disabilities that I cannot help and could never foresee. It had nothing to do with genetics. Nothing to do with my drug use or my alcoholism. Nothing to do with any of my habits. It was all completely fucking random. It was literally... Ehlers Danlos and fibro? “Some people are just born with it.” That is verbatim what my rheumatologist said to me when I begged him for answers on why this was happening to me, holding back tears. “Is it genetics? Is it what I did in the past? I used to do a TON of illegal drugs and drink a ton, too. Usually at the same time. All day and all night. It was terrible. For years upon years. And I’ve been anorexic for a long time. And this and that and... I don’t know. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!?” “Some people are just born with it.”

Fucking hell.

Alright, I’m gonna shut up.

But, man, that felt good to rant.

Thank you for being my muse. Lol.

And I appreciate the encouragement so much.

People either LOVE my little novellas to death... or they’re like “What the fuck is with you ranting about absolutely nothing when someone just says “hey” to you? Completely unnecessary.” I’m like “Uh, FIRST OF ALL” and then I complete that WITH A NOVELLA LMAOOOOOOO. And usually get the answer “Uh, okay, professor. I’m not reading that.” And it’s great because I usually didn’t write it for them. I usually write it for me. So I know they’re not gonna read it ahead of time because of hat comment.. so I just write about a ton of stuff that I’ve been needing to vent about for a long fucking time and get it out and no one will read it because they think it’s a furious, passive aggressive rebuttal to some nice guy(tm) telling me he hates the way I go into tirades like this. HAHA. So it’s a win-win situation for me when people like that pop up in my life. The simpletons who give me one word introductions or one line phrases. I get to respond with huge novellas and they get SUPER offended about it for some reason and feel it’s necessary to tell me how offended they are in that passive aggressive manner and it’s just... ahh, it’s so refreshing to me because it feels like my weekly debt collector calls. I absolutely LOVE my debt collector calls. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, if it’s a debt collector, I stop what I’m doing to answer it. It’s just so much fun. I feel bad for one of them, though, coz it’s the same guy who has been assigned to my case and I end up changing my spiel to him every time. So now LAST TIME HE ASKED ME “Is your name [birth name]?” as per usual to confirm it was me before going into “This is a call to attempt to collect a debt” spiel. And I answered with “You know, I’m actually not sure. You tell me.” And he FUCKING HUNG UP ON ME AND I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD IN MY LIFE. Every debt collector call I get brings so much joy into my day that I just... even if I’m having the worst day and I’m sobbing on the couch about to slice my forearm open... if I debt collector calls me, I will answer and pretend to be a forlorn widow, twice abandoned, which is obviously why I’m crying because my partner just ran out on me. TRAGIC, AMIRITE. I like it when they have enough heart to ask me “What’s wrong” when I say “I just... don’t know if that’s my name... I’m in such dissarray right now that I don’t even know who I am anymore.” And they say “Maybe I should call back later.” And I say “OH no no, this is a fine time. I need a distraction. Desperately. Please. You’re all I have.” Which then normally chimes the hesitant “This is a call to collect a .... actually... I just... what’s wrong?” And then I have to force myself to keep crying as I put my 10 blade down and go “Well, you see, it all started when...” and I make up some super elaborate story, choking and voice shaking all the way. Improving on the spot. It’s SOOOOOOO much fun. Jesus fucking christ. And by the time I get off the phone, I’M NOT SAD ANYMORE AND I DON’T WANT TO KILL MYSELF ANYMORE!

But the ones where I can just... answer EVERYTHING they ask me with a question... and then when they FINALLY (very frustrated at this point, ofc) get to the end in double or triple the time that they should have, I’m guessing, and can ask me “What would you like to do about x amount of money/How would you like to pay/take care of this?”, I instantly drop whatever facade I had going to say something like “Bitch please, you can send that bill to the orange in the whitehouse. He’s the one who is forcing it to continue happening in the first place.” I keep that one as concise as possible. It has a major variation of that every time, though. Telling them to send it to Trump with the implication of how opposed I am to our healthcare system and how angry I am about my exorbitant medical debt and how completely unnecessary it is that I have it and how the 1% should be fucking paying it until the ones in power fix it to the right system, with absolutely bitterness seething from every fucking syllable like fucking poison. And then, ofc, they stutter on the end of the line: “I, uh... we... we can’t do that, so, uh... how do you want us, to, uh...” “Well, dear, let me spell it out for you. No, I really will spell it out for you. Are you ready? I have the address to the white house. Got a pen and paper handy? Computer?” “What? No, you can’t jus-” “Okay good. So the address is-” And I go on to speak OVER THEM with whatever address is listed online that I can find in the moment through a quick google search and as they try to cut me off, I just talk as loudly as I can. And every time they try to cut me off or tell me they can’t, I just get this super chipper, sadistic tone and go “Awe, thank you so much for sending it for me! I’m super excited to hear the response from a piece of fruit! Don’t think those tiny hands are big enough to hold a pencil, but we’ll see, eh?” And the jokes just go ON AND ON and I have a fucking MILLION of em and they don’t STOP and they’re terrible and I DO NOT STOP until the debt collector on the other end is so frustrated that they finally say “I’m going to put it down that you’re not going to pay.” And I just keep responding with. “You’re such a sweetheart for getting that payment taken care of for me! Now, where did you say you worked out of again? What’s the weather like? Super hot here in New Orleans... gonna be one HELL of a summer. GET IT!? HELL!? HAHA” Click. Line dead. And then I’m just fucking howling as I drop my phone.

And my POINT is (yes, I actually have a point, wow haha) that when good guys(tm) feel the need to point out their unnecessary opinion about my completely unnecessary novellas of ramblings, I like to respond with one paragraph of a “FIRST OF ALL” message so they think the ENTIRE message is going to just be a passive aggressive rebuttal... and then I have a bunch of fun with the response and get to vent a fuckton about what’s going on and get to also have a ton of fun and throw in “did you know” facts and horrible, horrible puns and dad jokes and then end it with a paragraph that seems like it would be fitting to a rebuttal that was started in the first paragraph because I legit do want to write a rebuttal but I don’t care enough to say much but I love to use the opportunity to vent in a public space (usually here on tumblr when a nice guy anon sends me a question I deem stupid or in a threat on fb that I deem stupid and a nice guy(tm) is mistreating my friends and I have to sigh to myself and step in and make everything better, as per usual, because confusing the masses with doublespeak and making people question whether or not they’re absolute correct information and absolutely wrong information alike is right or wrong is my specialty). 

Public venting is the only way that things make me feel better because I need an anonymous audience. I don’t want to force people to listen to me whine, but I need a platform where people CAN listen to me whine if they WANT TO (and surprisingly a LOT of people do lol) and get feedback and help and similar stories and advice and such of their own free will without me prompting anyone or asking for it. Helps a fuckton. Just writing stuff down in a journal or notebook? Doesn’t do a fucking thing for as a coping mechanism. Forcing people to listen to me? Boring and defeats the purpose and isn’t a coping mechanism for me coz that means they’re not actively listening. Like psychologists. People who are fucking paid to listen. I don’t trust people who are active listeners. I need passive listeners. People who will overhear a conversation in a coffee shop I have on the phone with someone in a corner while there’s a group of perfect looking, white, trust fund, fraternity and sorority people chatting and laughing loudly in their expensive brand name clothes in the middle of the shop and have that one person come over to me after I’m done with my phone call to say something about how they like this or that about how I talk or was interested in what I was saying and wanted to know more about x or y. Or something else about a topic or the way I spoke and gestured or something weird like that that really intrigues me and makes me feel heard and appreciated and loved because I never prompted anyone into coming to me. Never.

And that, my friend, is the story of why the grinch stole christmas.

No, that’s the story of why Killian literally needs a public platform to vent on.

Okay now I’m REALLY done. I swear. I promise. I fucking PROMISE lmaaaaoooooo. Sorrryyyy.

Nah, I really hope you’re okay, fam. Coz I certainly most definitely 200% am NOT haha.

Live long and prosper.

[rheasunshine]

Greetings fellow travelers,

I hope that wherever you’re reading this from, you are safe.

I haven’t been safe in awhile.

Yes, I have a roof over my head. (A new, expensive one at that; first year home-ownership can be stressful).

Yes, I have food and water.  (Well, sometimes there’s food – usually the fridge is empty-ish and even when it’s not, I’m not really into eating it.)  This fact alone makes me safer than millions and millions of people.

I am – generally speaking – not in danger.

Except last week.  Last week,  I was in a lot of danger.  And it wasn’t the first time.

It comes as no surprise to anyone following my story that as a “Professional Patient” I spend most of my days balancing doctors appointments and symptom-tracking and medications. To be honest (and you should always be honest, right Justin?), I’ve been doing a truly shitty job managing my illnesses.  It starts simply enough – one bad day.  That bad day leads to two, and by then I’ve decided nothing I could do matters and I let go of the controls.  Sounds healthy, right?

So a couple of weeks ago, as I was juggling my annual OBGYN visit, IUD discussions, a urology referral, a visit to UNC to discuss my constant nausea and further testing, a mammogram, vision testing for new glasses and contacts (and WAY more money than we have), my therapy visits and then 3 or 4 “normal” appointments, I kind of lost my mind.

The thing is, it wasn’t even beyond the scope of normal; that’s a pretty average week in my life.  Where things started to go sideways was in the creeping, slinking, insidious feeling that an MS relapse – or something worse – was coming on.  I’ve described this enough times that I feel we are all comfortable with what this looks like, so I’ll just summarize by saying that at this point in the story I was no longer in control of my motions, thoughts, words or feelings.

When Thommy and I went on our annual wedding anniversary trip in early October, we spent most of our time playing the previously referred to “ER or nah??” game.  I didn’t want to go to an ER out of state (we were in Tennessee) so we just assumed the worst was yet to come and tried to enjoy what we could of the Smokey Mountains.  BUT, because my brain wasn’t working properly, I forgot to pack both my cane AND my handicap placard, so we weren’t able to do much sightseeing or exploring.  In fact, we barely left the condo.  Since we’ve been married for 9 years, and together for 13, we don’t need a lot of special attractions to enjoy a trip; just being in each others’ presence is special enough.

At the Tennessee Welcome Center

So let’s catch up: we got home, the symptoms got way worse, and on Friday, October 27th, I went again to see my primary care doctor.  He took an X-Ray of my neck first to see if that could explain some of the symptoms.  Luckily, it did a little – I now have 3 herniated discs and something wrong with the curvature of my spine – and had we not had more pressing issues he said we would be discussing physical therapy, cortisone shots and possibly surgery – but since I couldn’t feel my leg or finish a complete sentence, we had bigger problems.

  He sent me over to the hospital as a direct admit. He assured me they would give me sedatives before the MRI of my brain, thoracic and cervical spine (a 2 hour procedure), but the hospital was experiencing a severe shortage of IV Valium so they gave me Ativan instead, and it did nothing, except possibly make me MORE agitated.  Over the course of my stay they tried 7 IVs.  2 blew.  One nurse cried and I did everything I could to convince her it was me, not her.

It is now Sunday, November 5th and it hurts just to type this.  But what I want to say is important; I was diagnosed as having another MS flare.

After 3 MS medications THIS YEAR ALONE.

After the hell of Ocrevus JUST TWO MONTHS AGO.

The reason MS patients put up with all the bullshit is to STAY OUT of relapses.  I tortured myself all year just to end up here anyway.  And that’s JUST the MS – never mind everything else in my body hatching plans against me.

So.  They prescribe 3 days of IV steroids (WHY, GOD, WHY?), fluids and pain management. Fine. I’m pissed but I can do this.  What’s 3 more days in the hospital?  I am safe.

Except.

Except…

I can’t do it.  I am not safe.

A psychiatrist comes to talk to me on the day of discharge.  “Are you safe at home?”

(Mental checklist: roof, food, check.)

“Yes.”

“OK,” she says, “do you have thoughts of hurting yourself or others?”

Let’s do the easy one first.  Do I want to hurt others? Like this guy – this guy here who SLEPT IN A CHAIR FOR 3 DAYS AND BARELY LEFT MY SIDE AND DECKED OUT OUR ROOM IN PENN STATE STUFF FOR THE GAME DESPITE THE FACT THAT I KEEP YELLING AT HIM AND CRY INCOHERENTLY??  No.  No, I do not want to hurt him.

(Well, I didn’t.  But now that I’m at home, in pain, miserable and riding steroid rage, ummmm…..)

But do I want to hurt myself?

Yes.  I want to find a way to trump the pain I’m in every day, I want to be the one doing the hurting, actively, so I’m no longer passively being injured, I want it to be quiet, I want it to stop, I want it to end.  Please.  Make it all stop.

“Would you allow yourself to be voluntarily committed to our behavior health unit?”

What’s left to hide from? What’s left to be scared of? I’ve seen the worst, I’ve felt the worst, I’ve been in the dark for a long time.

What it feels like she’s asking is, “Do you want to save what’s left of you?”

“Yes.”

And that’s where another story starts and ends.  The only other time I’ve been hospitalized for mental health issues since Renfrew, and this time it was only 3 days because on the chaotic and teary night of admission I signed my 72 hour release form. (They really should make you wait until morning to do that, but what do I know…)

So basically I asked to leave before I had even fully been processed.

But that’s OK because 3 days in a psych unit is a powerful time.  Every single person you meet changes you forever.  And I want to do justice to that story so we’ll save it for another day.

But what I want you to know now is that on Monday, November 6th, I will start a 6 week intensive partial hospitalization; that means from 9am to 1pm I’ll be in intensive therapy, both group and individual and I’ll meet each week with a psychiatric nurse to continue to adjust my medications and with a psychiatrist to keep this journey moving.  In addition, I can still see my normal therapist once a week, who I’ve been seeing for two years, and who has been remarkable.

There are three other things I want you to know, and they are so important to me, that I’m asking you to really hear the words in your head – and I’m asking you to remember.

1.) I would be dead right now if it wasn’t for Thommy, my mom, a handful of the best friends I actually don’t deserve, and a tribe of “Rhea Team” warriors who pray for me and send me their positive energy and their love and their notes and their gifts and who keep showing up despite the tedious repetition of my illnesses and shortcomings.  I know that I am blessed.  I do not take it for granted.  Please keep reminding me of the good things – please keep your words of love and light coming; it’s my way out of the darkness.

2.) You need to vote better.  Sorry if that’s whiplash but it’s true.  You and me both.  I am getting the most amazing, thorough and continued treatment because of insurance.  There was a time I didn’t have that.  And there were people I met in the hospital who were released before they were stable because of insurance. Cuts to mental health services, Medicare, Medicaid, etc, literally, literally, literally KILL PEOPLE.  I might be one of them. Vote in every election you can for leaders who will protect those services.  I can’t believe this country works that way but here we are.

3.) Mental health stigma needs to end.  And it can start with you.  Stop using the word “crazy” a dozen times a day when it’s not necessary.  That’s the easy one – challenge yourself today and see what happens.  Don’t use diagnoses as adjectives.  OCD, bipolar, schizophrenia, manic/mania, depressed, anorexic/bulimic, PTSD, cutting/cutters/self-harmers … all those things are real life.  They can be nightmares that people may never wake up from.  Some of us will get help and regulate it but we ALL need to stop carrying around the shame of it.  It is not a punchline to your shitty joke.  If someone trusts you enough to share their story with you: listen without judgement.  You don’t have to fix them.  You don’t have to feel their pain to help them through it.  You can hold space with love and respect and allow them to process their emotions freely.  Not everyone is ready to accept help  – it is not your job to lecture them. Memorize the number to the suicide hotline (1-800-273-8255) so that you can provide a resource to someone is crisis. (Obviously, if it’s an emergency, call 911).  But from experience, I can say that I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve had a meltdown on the phone with someone while I told them I couldn’t make it one more day – and the act of simply being heard has kept me here one more day.

One more day.

That’s what’s left.

Or, like we talked about in the hospital, one more minute.  It’s 7:31am right now.  Can I make it until 7:32am? What can bridge those 60 seconds? Breathing? Medication? A phone call?

I know I said I needed you to know 3 things, but I lied, there’s one more:

I am not ashamed.  As someone with complex mental illnesses AND complex physical illnesses, stuffing that all inside and hiding it from the world is what usually gets me into the darkest recesses of my mind and keeps me buried.  As someone with mental illness, I *DO* feel guilty, all the time, for hundreds of things, real and imaginary; but, what I don’t feel guilty about, is sharing this with you.  There is a level of self-loathing I experience that I didn’t even have words for until I was on the psych unit, but my head will not hang one inch lower after posting this and sharing it.  I hope if you read this and you want to talk, you reach out.  I hope if you read this, and you are so inclined, you share it with your circle because there might be someone who needs to read it and know help is out there and they don’t have to feel alone or ashamed.

I’m redefining myself with the pieces of what’s left; and with each new illness and test and hospitalization and med change, etc., I do feel like I lose some of the person I wanted to be.  Or at least the person I thought I was.  But there is so much power in realizing you can create someone new.  And know this: if you’ve had to do this (I mean, REALLY, do this): you are a fucking superhero.  Suit up.  Here’s your cape…

xoxo

Rhea

What’s Left. Greetings fellow travelers, I hope that wherever you're reading this from, you are safe. I haven't been safe in awhile.