#literally me until my INSURANCE LETS ME PICK MY PRIMARY >:(

[wheelie-sick]

can i ask what the process of getting your wheelchair was like?

Okay so I missed this one by like 15 days (got drowned out in my inbox)

So my wheelchair process began by talking to my primary care about the next steps for my mobility because the aids I already ad were not sufficient and I was struggling with mrADLs around the house such as getting to the kitchen, getting to the bathroom (was limited to like 1-2 times a day, it was miserable, my room was right next to the bathroom) for a lot of things I was being pushed around on my rollator which is not how rollators are intended to be used. I brought all this up to my primary care and included that I was very worried because I was going to be starting university in the upcoming couple of months and I didn't know how I was going to be able to get to classes. my primary care suggested a powerchair, I was like, no, I want a manual wheelchair.

I first got a hospital wheelchair to tide me over until I got my custom chair. Usually DME can give you a loaner chair but I kinda needed something sooner rather than later. I also got a prescription for a wheelchair that was sent to NuMotion. My primary care had never gotten someone a custom wheelchair before so she wasn't sure what to list on the prescription. NuMotion said they wanted just "wheelchair" and nothing else. They said they would do the evaluation and decide which type of chair I needed.

My evaluation was scheduled for approximately 2 weeks after my prescription was finally delivered. My evaluation was done with the help of my physical therapist. At my evaluation we discussed my needs and my wants for my wheelchair. I went in knowing exactly what I wanted and I would strongly recommend you do the same (but be open to suggestions) I have a chair that is literally perfect for me in every way because I knew the exact features and specifications I wanted. Other people who are less happy with their chairs usually went in with little to no idea of what they wanted. Basically, be prepared, do your studying. At the evaluation they also took just, like, a ton of measurements. They measured my legs, my hips, my torso, my pelvic angle, my grip strength, etc. It was a lot of touching, be prepared for a lot of touching.

After my evaluation happened my physical therapist had to write up a justification to insurance for my wheelchair and all of its parts. This took about 2 weeks. My primary care then had to approve all of that justification, this took another two weeks. At that point the forms were submitted to insurance and it was a month and half (extra time because of the holidays) until I heard back about it. I got approved on my first try thanks to the hard work of my physical therapist combined with not being borderline on qualifying.

It took about a month to build my wheelchair. I actually got the news that it was done a week early and I went to schedule my pick up appointment in person and they were like "we actually have it right now do you want it right now?" and of course I was like "yes!!!!!" it felt like Christmas but 10 times better. Genuinely one of the happiest days of my life. Usually you have to schedule your pick up appointment but try going in person to schedule it because sometimes they literally will just let you have it.

Anyways, sorry this was so late. Hope this helps

[ravenousgoblin]

Literally hate my Primary so much that I’ve been avoiding making an appointment with her to get my inhaler refills until I find an asthma specialist to go to instead but I’m such a procrastinator that I haven’t found one. Instead, I let my alotted refills run out and now she won’t refill them without me coming to see her again, which is dumb

She basically treats me like I don’t know anything about the asthma that I’ve been dealing with for 24 fucking consecutive years. My literal entire life. Like, I was told when I was like 5 that it was clear I’d never outgrow this asthma, like a lot of people do, but she doesn’t listen to me and won’t provide me with a ForeverScrip which I know exist because I’ve had them before from past asthma specialists.

But now, I am out of inhalers and am having to rely on my breathing treatments on the nebulizer. Ma wanted to make sure I saw her before our insurance ran out just to be sure but, again, I hate her so much that I procrastinated more than I normally would so now I’m fucked and am gonna have to pay an out of pocket fee for her AND the inhaler.

I know Walmart sells cheap inhalers but they’re soooooo fucking bad for you. I’ve had a few in the past and they’re not great, but if you’re in a pinch, no time to complain, right? Beggars can’t be choosers. Thought I still had my last one that me and ma saved just in case for emergencies, but I guess not. So I’ve had to take a second breathing treatment tonight.

Usually I’d be fairly okay, but I’ve been smoking a lot of weed lately with Sergio, it’s cold af down here, and I’m actually sick rn. Like, I feel bad too bc I had to wake ma up at 1am to see if we actually kept and if we did then where was it but she said no. So I woke her for nothing basically. I know she’s some sort of disappointed in me for not making an appointment. If she’s not, then I sure as hell am.

Omfg and she uses this website that you can use to make appointments instead of calling if you want and I went to try to do that but it’s telling me to pick a specific reason for an appointment and it’s literally only letting me pick a mammogram. And even then it’s like yeeeeeea ur not really in the age range 😬

[prorevenge]

Mock my mother’s death? I bankrupt you.

So this could be a very, very long story. I’ll try to summarize where and when I can.

My now ex-wife Kate and I moved to an apartment in 2010. The house as a whole a renovated town house split between two sides with two apartments on the bottom and two apartments upstairs. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the apartment as it was a much older building that I had ever lived in but I quickly adjusted to the wood creaking throughout the night. On the initial walkthrough we noticed that the only problem was that there was a dip in the bathroom ceiling. The landlord, Jay, promised he would get fixed ASAP.

One year to the day when we moved in there was a loud crash at 4AM. The bathroom ceiling had collapsed and there was tiling and wood all over over the floor and in the bathtub. Now Kate was typically the aggressive one, while I was more passive and laid back, and she kept calling Jay throughout the day. When she got in touch with him at around 9PM she explained what happened and insisted that it be fixed immediately. He rebuffed with him yelling that his girlfriend was a lawyer and he didn’t need to do anything. Now this is where I got mad. I went outside and called him myself. I feigned a relaxed demeanor and at first he began trying to talk to me as a “bro” and kept saying “Dude, I’m gonna get someone out there but it’s gonna take a few weeks..” When he couldn’t sway me that way he began yelling about his girlfriend and her knowing the law. What he was unaware of was that I had read the tenant laws in my state and so as he tried to lie I waited until he was finished and I recited the law stating that, if an apartment was considered uninhabitable then the landlord needed to pay for the tenant to stay in a place until it was resolved. He tried to say that our upstairs neighbor Phil was the super but he wasn’t sure if he could get down there that night. He put me on hold, then came back a few minutes later and said that Phil and his girlfriend were out of state. I rang Phils doorbell and asked, with the Jay on speakerphone, if he was assigned as the super. He laughed and said “No.” Dejected, he said he would have people out there the next day (previously he said they were busy for at least three weeks). There’s more to this incident but it lead to two conclusions:

If you’re going to lie then there has to be a consistency in your lie AND make sure that the people you lie to DON’T communicate with each other.

This is where a feud started between me and my Kate versus him and his mother (she was the original landlord and gave the house to him so he could begin to profit.)

So forward to a year later. Jay stopped coming to the house and his mom began doing the pick-ups. Around this time my ex- and I had been laid off and we were working with social security for food, health, and housing insurance. We were approved for all three in April but we would not get the check until May. When our typical check wasn’t in the landlord’s mailbox he immediately gave a summons saying that he was taking us to court for eviction. The day we went to court he had no lawyer and, going before the judge, here’s the summation:

Judge: Does the defense have a means to pay within 90 days of non-payment? Us: Yes judge (hands over paperwork showing that he will be paid for April and May) Judge: I see no problem. They are breaking no laws. Why are we here? Jay: Well your honor, they have been bullying- Judge: I don’t care, unless they are breaking a law then this case is dismissed.

Suffice it to say Jay and his mother’s were NOT happy. Around this time in my life things were tumultuous. My mother, who had been battling lung cancer succumbed to it in June . This happened at roughly the same time his mom came knocking looking for payment. I explained that I would leave it in the mailbox when we got back from the funeral home and to please just respect my right to mourn. She took her fingers and began rubbing them together, pretending to play the smallest violin.

I will never forget what she said next “Oooh, my mommy just died. Woe is me. She probably had it coming. I don’t care if your entire family is dead. I want my money.” She smiled smugly, proud with what she had just said. I saw red and my heart jumped into my throat. I went, grabbed the check, and handed it to her in absolute shock that anyone would say something so...fucked up? She had finally managed to push a button that very few people I’ve known throughout my life have seen. I went into rage mode but not in the way you would expect.

THE REVENGE: We were always told that if a health inspector came by to not open the door. I waited until Aug. since that was when the lease was going to run out and we knew they would not extend a renewal. I walked up the block to town hall to ask for a health inspection of our property. It was scheduled for several days later. Now it’s important to know several things:

I was friends with all of the tenants. Phil had moved out with his fiancé but the new tenant was Dani upstairs in our side. Tom and Hana on the other side of the downstairs floor had moved out and Jay was still looking for new tenants. The only one who wanted to stay out of this was Rose on the upper right apartment.

I had gotten a key so I could let the inspector in Dani’s apartment and I knew that I could use the back staircase on the right side to let him in on Tom’s, now vacant apartment.

I also knew that Dani was moving out in September along with Kate and myself.

The inspector came and it was glorious. He checked the exterior of the house first noting that wires were exposed, there was an old empty dryer along with other odd clutter in the backyard. I bought him inside the shared entrance and, as I was counting on, he noticed that the last inspected dated back to 1994; 18 years. This meant that for each year he did not have an inspection there would be appropriate fines. For our apartment we had black mold growing in our bathroom and the bubble in the ceiling had begun to grow to problematic proportions. Upstairs, Dani’s apartment was suffering from leaks in the ceiling and it looked like her bathroom ceiling was also on the brink of collapsing. We then went to the basement. The boiler was on the verge of exploding, there was flammable items along with gasoline and a pack of matches sitting right beside it. Two things that I did not know was 1. The fire door that separated the two sides did not close all of the way rendering it moot and, on the right basement side there was a toilet. A toilet that had blown up. It had coated the surrounding walls and the leakage prevented us going up to the floor via the right side. The entire time the inspector was photographing and writing constantly.

We stepped outside and he said he needed to come back. When I asked why he said he had run out of space to write down all of the infractions (he had filled the front and had written an entire page on the back portion). I kindly and coyly asked “Well, how much will it cost right now?” He scratched his head and said “Around 20-30k from what I can see but it’s probably going to be higher as this house was never licensed to be split into apartments.” I thanked him and he was going to come back with the county inspector.

So we moved out and but I got the rundown from Rose. Because he was the current owner he owed all current fines and no one new could not move into the empty apartments until everything was up to code. Because three out of four were vacant he was losing 4,500 in potential rent. He handed the property back to his mother and had to claim for bankruptcy. Now here’s the other thing. Every time an old tenant left and a new one was coming in an inspection was supposed to be done. Now that all of the financial burden fell on her they looked into the records and was she was fined for each time she had broken that rule 750/per. By the end of the year Rose had moved out so the place was hemorrhaging money. I sat back, proud of what I had done, and left it be.

Haha, no, fuck that. I wasn’t close to done yet.

I felt like I had destroyed Jay but my real target had always been his mom. I learned that she had about eight properties throughout three towns in my county. I went to each one, spoke to the tenants, and said I was a concerned tenant from another property and asked if they had any problems with their apartments. EVERY person I asked described the apartment in very poor to intolerable levels and that the mom was effectively a slumlord. She would ignore problems unless someone turned to litigations, she was threatened that they would summon the inspector, or, more often than not, the people would move out, she’d refuse their deposit, and sink those into repairs. People rarely fought back because she knew that the occupants were of upper, lower class minorities. So, being the concerned person I was, I want to the inspector of the other two towns and asked for an inspection to be done with at least one, if not more, would be awaiting the inspector when they came. Turns out that she faced pretty much the same infractions on every apartment she owned. It turned out she actually had 12 apartments but I initially only knew about the ones that fell within my county. The remaining properties in the next county over were given a heads up for a surprise inspection. From what I can tell Jays mom had been in the landlord business for about 35-40 years. That collapsed quickly.

Since we moved literally one block down the road from our old one I got to see Jay lose his primary source of income and have to claim bankruptcy BUT also saw that his mother was also trying desperately to find a buyer for all of the apartments so she could pay off the fines. I learned two years later that she too had to file for bankruptcy. Jay and his mother camped out in front of our next apartment two days in Oct. of 13 before she filed for bankruptcy (I’m guessing to scream at me and/or Kate) so I called the cops and said that there were strange people standing in a no parking zone and they kept looking up at the second floor. A cruiser swung by and told them to leave.

I know I should have used the two months I spent monitoring everything to find a new job but this was the one and only time I wanted to cripple a person where they hurt the most; their wallets. I think I got my point across. None of this would’ve happened if you had just fucking fixed the ceiling before it collapsed Jay!

Th;dr: Had a couple of slumlords, they pushed me to a place where I snapped, and so I went a bit crazy and bankrupted the slumlord AND his slumlord mother as well.

(source) story by (/u/Theliterside)

[loverofpiggies]

Gloomverse will not update for a little while: Important mental health break

Hey guys! I'm just coming by to let u know- I don't think I'm going to be able to update Gloomverse for a little bit. Long, LONG post under the cut

I feel horrible every time this happens, genuinely horrible, but. A lot of things have happened in quick succession of each other, and its kickstarted a nightmarish bout of depression that just hit me REALLY bad this evening.

I won't say everything, but a couple things that have hit, was:

- In the last two months, I have been on 3 long holiday trips, visiting family and friends. As an introvert, that is another level of effort I wasn't expecting, but hit me nonetheless. I was busier these last few months, then I've ever been on my busiest convention month.

-Because of all these surprise trips, and because of their length, I'd scramble in between them to catch up on all my comics, and everything I gotta do before my next trip would render me zero 'me' time. I can’t remember the last time I just, went to the park and watched birds. I love doing that.

-Also, I am usually very good about saving money through the year to pull me through the hard months of winter until cons pick back up- with them being my primary income and all. However, although I prepped for one trip around Christmas time, I didn't expect three. I wasn't financially prepared for three. So, I used a lot more money than I expected to, this holiday season. That is another level of stress.

- On Christmas morning, I woke up to find credit card fraud of over $700 dollars taken from my account. I have already contacted the bank of course, but the money has yet to be put back in- on an already, extremely, EXTREMELY tight month.

-Since I returned home from my Christmas trip, there were some Kickstarter issues I had to fix, and repack, which for anyone concerned, they're sitting snug on my floor as I type this, and they'll probably be shipped on monday- later than I expected, and I'm sorry about that. But yea, the moment I got back from an exhausting holiday, I immediately spent days upon days doing a variety of things, such as:

-Fixing up newer pages for Gloomverse on its newest website

-Prepping Gloomverse Volume 4 for printing through my small printing company (Which includes formatting around 200 pages)

-Prepping my old webcomic Mortifer Volume 3 for printing through that same company

-completely overhauling my display for conventions, because somehow over this holiday I managed to design around 30ish more keychains, and I had to find a way to display, and store them.

-Also overhauling my merchandise storage system since I had so much new stock

-Taking new photos and prepping etsy for opening

-and trying to edit new gloomverse pages, which were getting dangerously close to running out of updates.

....so I suppose I did most of that.... oh god within a week.

-I just went to the grocery store to refill my super important anxiety meds, and turns out- I have no health insurance. It disappeared on the first of the year. I couldn't afford my full three month prescription. I don't have that much in my wallet. So. I just got one month.

If I'm being completely honest, I went back into my roomies car in the parking lot, to cry.

I am literally at the end of my stress rope. It's taking all my energy to write this, but you need to know why I have to halt things for a little. I even have Gloomverse pages ready for the next week or so, but I genuinely lack the energy to schedule them on here and tumblr. After I finish typing and sending this out, I’m just going to lay down and not do a thing.

So, sorry for the long long post but. I wanted to be as clear as possible with everyone about what's been going on. I can handle a lot, I can do a lot, it comes with running your own business, but. I pushed too hard. And I need a break from screens, and the internet in general. Everything, really. Just. Man, the headaches I'm getting.

So I'm sorry, but, I have to get off all my social sites, and not worry about gloomverse for a little bit. I don't know how long, but.

Anyway. None of this will effect anyone's Etsy orders, or Kickstarter rewards, any of that. I wanna make that clear. I hope to ship out all the orders for everything on Monday. Just. No comics, no social media, no nothing.

Thank you as always for all your support you guys, I'll pull myself back together in no time and start getting content back out to you. Have a beautiful night.

[ajroyalty68]

Withdrawal Part Two

So, both because I can really only talk to a few people in my life about this and because no one is likely to read this, I’m gonna go ahead and rant for a minute.

When I was diagnosed with depression in my sophomore year of high school, I was prescribed (after trying five or six other meds first) Venlafaxine (brand name, Effexor). Right up front, my doctor shared that it had been nicknamed by health professionals “Side Effexor” and to let him know if I couldn’t handle the side effects that would happen. He didn’t say “might” happen, he said, “would”. The side effects did suck, but after trying so many other meds that either didn’t help at all or made my depression worse, I was willing to stick it out. 

A few years later my diagnosis was amended to bipolar depression, and although another medication (Oxcarbazepine), was added, the fact that the Effexor was still working for me led my psychologist to suggest I keep taking my original meds as well. At this point, I was warned about the near certainty of debilitating withdrawal if for any point I was to stop taking the Venlafaxine. 

Less than a year later, I lost my health insurance and found out that one month of medications would be over $1000 without it. The withdrawal was brutal, but since I was also dealing with another million (or so it seemed) life issues on top of it, I didn’t realize how much of my miserable condition was caused by withdrawal.

Fast forward to last week, when I made an inexcusably stupid mistake. Right after picking up my Effexor, I cleaned out my car in the Kroger parking lot. As you may have already guessed, my medication made it into the trash can by accident. I attempted to get a new prescription (knowing that I would have to pay the cash price) but was basically ignored by my current primary care physician (don’t worry, I already have an appointment with a new PCP, this isn’t the first time they’ve made it hard for me to get medical help and I’m sick of it) and was unable to get a new refill.

Long story short, I knew I was about to go through withdrawal again, but having been through that sort of situation while my life was already falling apart a little bit, I figured it would be a lot easier now that I had a good support system and was honestly discussing my problems with my best friend (my grandma). And that is helping. A LOT. I cannot express how grateful I am to her and my current situation. 

But here comes the withdrawal portion of the rant. I’m basically just going to list complaints about my withdrawal symptoms and the rest of the post may be even more tiresome and incomprehensible than the beginning. You have been warned.

I am always cold. I have always been like this, and I’m used to it. But when I am huddled under a couple of thick blankets wearing a jacket using my dog as a heater and I’m still shivering so hard I have trouble answering my grandma because my teeth are chattering, that’s a little much. And that’s just at home. Earlier today at work, while on the phone with another bookstore, they actually asked if our heater was out. Because they could hear my teeth chattering.

Now for the opposite. Something I didn’t have to deal with the first time I went through withdrawal with these meds: HOT FLASHES!... Or at least I don’t remember them happening before. As I mentioned, I’m always cold. And the highest the temperature has been here for the past several days is around 40 degrees Fahrenheit, so the shivering has been easy to pass off as nothing. But when I feel like I’m gonna pass out until I strip down to my bra and hang out in the garage for a bit, that’s a little harder to explain. NOTE: I have been able to resist stripping in my classes and at work, but sometimes it’s been difficult to hold out!

Another fun thing is the shaking. Not just the shivering, but when my hands shake so violently that I have to stop doing homework. To be fair, I have a natural tremor. I literally cannot remember life without one, and it’s noticeable enough that at least once a week a stranger will remark on it. I often hear, “Are you nervous? I don’t bite!” HAHA! YOU’RE SO FUNNY!

I’m sick to my stomach all the time. I haven’t been eating much (which doesn’t help the shaking) because I keep thinking I’ll throw up if I do. I finally realized today that it’s pretty much here to stay for the near future and eating neither helps nor harms the level of nausea, so I’ve just been making friends with Pepto Bismal to negligible results.

I CAN’T STOP SLEEPING. Yes, I’m exhausted, but I also keep having to huddle up in bed in an attempt to keep warm and fall asleep in the process. Again, not conducive to homework or personal life. Shout out to having a grandma who went through an addiction to prescription drugs and understands what I’m dealing with.

Finally, I feel INSANE because I know, as soon as I get a new prescription, I’ll be beelining it to Kroger to get more meds. I hate my dependency, but I find it incredibly difficult to be a productive member of society who can avoid suicide attempts without it. I am more than willing to try alternatives and would love to find a non-medicated method of dealing with my mental illness, but at this point in time, I know I’m not strong enough to deal with my chemical imbalances without prescription drugs.

Thank you, Tumblr for letting me rant, and I apologize to anyone who may actually read this.

[tittyinfinity]

Forced back into my abusive mother's house because I have to wait for housing assistance getting only $500/mo for disability and $360 a month in food stamps (that I have to share with my family of 5 bc ofc)🙃

I seriously can't keep living like this.....I'm scared to even go into the kitchen to get food in case I run into her

She likes to pick at your DEEPEST insecurities....and not even because YOU did something, but because she is mad at my dad, and if you DARE say that she is being mean and/or irrational, she is immediately going to attack you.

My dad sits there and just. Takes it. He will go off on the TV for not being able to figure out the captions, but doesn't go off on anyone in our family in that way.

I've been in 2 extremely emotionally/mentally/physically abusive relationships since I was FOURTEEN (10 years ago), yet all my self harm and attempts of suicide have been because of her. I was forced into living with abusive boyfriends BECAUSE OF HER (and my dad at some points).

I'm 24 god damn years old and forced to stay here until I get housing because I can't fucking work. And it's not like I haven't tried working, I lost 3 jobs in 9 months before i finally applied for disability.

I pay $130 a month for car insurance, 50 a month for my phone bill, 100 a month for rent, 360 a month for groceries (food stamps, thank god), my whole family uses my car without any of their own insurance on it (they literally wouldn't have jobs if it wasnt for me), 50 a month for the internet bill (split half with my brother), and whatever the hell disney+ costs, so I get less than $170 a month to spend on anything else. My parents own their house. I am the primary cleaner of the house despite the fact I can only do it when I have my pain meds. Somehow I am still "lazy" for being disabled and "don't contribute anything to the house".

My mom pays slightly higher than everyone else in the house for house payments, therefore she thinks she is doing more for the house than everyone else.

Let me also include that my parents are meth addicts - outbursts happen regularly here. I miss a spot while deep cleaning? I'm fucked.

My mother treats me like a child despite all of that.

I don't know what to do. I'd set up a fundraiser, but usually any money that gets donated to me ends up having to go towards food.....unfortunately, mostly fast food since I can't get up and cook most of the time or because I can't even go into the kitchen that is stocked 90% with items I bought because of the fear of my mother and/or having to leave the house because of her. I have food at my house that I can't even fucking eat.

Fml dude. I typed this out just so I could get my feelings out in words I couldn't think of. Thanks to anyone who read this though, I truly appreciate it.

[serenityandstardust]

100 Things

June 13, 2012

I had reconstructive surgery on my knee due to an 100% tear to my ACL.

I don’t know how to ice skate.

I’ve never been skiing — water or ice.

I’ve never been on a cruise.

I have a son, age 6.

My career is in education.

My cat’s name is Arwin — a LOTR character.

I live 5 miles from the ocean.

I lost 80 pounds in the past year.

I’m tired of superhero movies.

I like my steak medium rare.

I love Disney World. I could ride Space Mountain over and over and over.

I collect shot glasses from around the globe — places I’ve been or places my friends have been.

I have a tendency to wear a song out; I play it over and over again.  My 6 year old criticizes me for it.

I love college sports.

I get silly when I get sleepy.

I play with my food when I am full.

I hate professional sports — no heart…they are in it for the money.

I played softball for 8 years; was a prospective catcher for a local university until I tore my knee to shreds.

I played volleyball for 2 years; I had a killer overhand serve.  Aces on that back line.

My first kiss was at my sweet 16 birthday party.  We were a little pressured.  I can’t even remember his name.

On a dare, I drove a car a 100+ mph on a two lane highway with the headlights out on a back country road for five minutes.  

I used to be afraid of guns until I shot a AR-15.

I am a sorority girl.

I prefer a calla lily to a rose.

I have 5 holes in my ears.

I have a dragonfly tattoo on my foot.  The tail wraps up around my ankle bone.

I teach high school kids. They are a blast.  I tried my hand at primary and elementary, and did not enjoy it as much.

I used to sell insurance.  

My favorite color is purple.

I like things that sparkle in sunlight.

I have cooked an entire Thanksgiving dinner successfully without help. For 32, I’d say that isn’t bad.

I’ve lived in a foreign country (Spain, actually) for two years.

I took 5 years of Spanish, including conversational Spanish, and I barely know how to count to a hundred. I can comprehend it though…oddly enough; I can read it and understand it when spoken to me.  

My brother is a “recovering” drug addict. I was caught up in his drama for a long, long time.

I have two nieces and a nephew.

I am the oldest grandchild of 8 on my father’s side.

Don’t let my shyness fool you.  I have a naughty side.

I still sometimes use my fingers to count. This is BAD.

I can’t live in a land-locked state. Once I leave the coast, I start to feel claustrophobic.

I have a natural ability in art. It is nothing I pursued in life, but I dabble with it on the side.

I make homemade silver jewelry. Again, nothing I pursue in life, but I have made a few bucks on some of my crafts.

I wanted a second child, but that time has passed for me. I am happy with my son—he is my world.

I hate spiders. And snakes. Or anything that buzzes around my ear. Just thinking of these these things makes me shiver, literally.

I have been with my husband for 15 years and married for 9.  And I want a divorce.

I absolutely hate mopeds on major highways. The speed limit is 55 or 65. If you can’t hit the speed limit, keep the fucking two wheeled piece of shit off the road.

I love strawberries. Anything strawberry.

I only chew spearmint gum.

I only wear silver or black jewelry.

I wear contacts. And glasses at night. But 99.9% of the time…contacts.

One of my endearing phrases is “You’re a mess.” If I say it to you, it means I like you.

I love the beach, the salt water, the sand, the smell, the sounds.  It’s home.

I am extremely shy until you get to know me, then…you’ll have a hard time shutting me up.

I am very ticklish. Very very ticklish.

I love to learn. For me, it is never ending.

I have nine lives. I’ve almost drowned, I’ve been in a near death car accident, I’ve attempted suicide (a couple of times), I’ve had incurable bone cancer that miraculously healed without medical help.

I love spending time with my son.  I love getting on the floor, down on his level and playing with him, coloring with him, and pretending that I’m six again.

I have premonitions. I have dreams that come true. Some good, some bad, some sad, but they always come true.

I love to listen to music, especially in the car��but when I’m at home, alone…I enjoy the quiet.  I like to hear myself think.

I do not believe in God, but I believe in something. I choose not to give it a name.  I am very spiritual—a free spirit…so to speak.

I’ve been told by many that I have an old soul.

Many debate the color of my hair. Some say brown. Some say auburn.  I suppose it depends if you are looking at me under direct sunlight.

I want to travel. I want to backpack around the country and around the world. I want to take very little with me…just a camera and a journal.

I do NOT have a green thumb. Check my porch for proof.  I mean, I tried. I really did.

I kill with kindness.

I am persistent. Good lord, I’m persistent. Someone once told me that I never stop until I get my way.  I’m thinking this was his way of saying I’m selfish.

I am insecure. I get jealous easily, I have low self-esteem, I doubt myself and others.

I like to sing. I suck horribly at it, but I won’t sing around you.

If the world is going to end, I’ll be standing outside hitching a ride with my towel in hand.

I wish I had my own Narnia closet. What I wouldn’t give to live a thousand lifetimes and come back to be me again and again.

I am a crier. If you are close to me, really close…and I come over…be sure to have a box of tissues.  I cry sad tears, mad tears, happy tears.

I am not skinny or thin.  Though I despise the words fat and obese, I don’t feel that I am neither fat nor obese.  I am me, curves and all.  Women like me were once adored…a long time ago.

I have been known to make the first move, but would prefer the guy to. I still fear rejection.

I love body sprays, but hate perfumes.  I like a light lingering fragrance that I can spritz on anytime…nothing overpowering or choking.

I like spicy food. The older I get, the spicier it has to be.

I hate the way I look. HATE.

I have been published.

I have sold artwork.

I am never sitting down anywhere in my house without a throw blanket wrapped around me. My hands are cold all the time too.

I hate the smell of ketchup.  Just thinking about it makes me cringe.

My go to mixed drinks of choice sre an ameretto sours or a lemon drops.

I’ve never broken a bone in my body. Torn muscles and ligaments, yes…but no bones.

I love to dance, funny as shy as I am, but a little liquid courage helps.

Beatles or Elvis? If I had to pick…Elvis.

I carry a purse with me…in my car, but to fucking tote it in the mall or a restaurant? No.

My hair is naturally wavy.  You wouldn’t know it looking at pictures.

I’m short. 5’2 or 5’3 depending on the time of day you measure me. But hel, when I played volleyball, I was all palms above the net.

I love to read/watch anything science fiction (except the old Star Trek stuff - blame my uncle).

I love read/watch anything horror (blame my dad).

I smoke, probably way too much.

My erotic name … Chloe. (shhh) *she was my first kitten*

I am a ball of nerves.

I have tiny hands, or so I’ve been told.

I hate to see a man hide his butt.  Forget baggy, show me your ass, dammit!  On the other hand, I fall swiftly for the 90s alternative/grunge type. My men. My god…how they drive me crazy.

As much as I share online, there is a lot that I don’t share. The really personal stuff?  I save that for special people.

I love with all of my heart, all of my soul.  I give everything I have.

[lionmageaz]

I am so fucking tired of call center hacks who feel so "empowered" that they think they can run roughshod over others to paper over their own inadequacies. Today, I got an unexpected call from a staffer at a Banner surgical center in Casa Grande. Unexpected, because I told my primary care doctor that I didn't want to deal with surgery for my hernia until January at the earliest. I just don't have the bandwidth right now, especially with work obligations and other issues like scheduling my Chevy Bolt EV to have the battery pack replaced...

The lady on the phone was kind of brusque and interrupted me mid-sentence multiple times, so I finally asked if she could please stop talking over me. No cussing, no overt rudeness. Her response was typical grade school bullshit: accuse me of doing the same thing, then threaten to disconnect the call.

So I finally had enough and asked to speak to a supervisor. I was told I would get a call back, then was hung up on. Experience tells me that it's highly unlikely that anyone would call me back, so I called the main number for this Banner facility and lodged a complaint.

That got me a callback -- about 2 hours after the facility closed for the day. (They close at noon on Fridays.) My cell phone battery was dead, so I couldn't take the call. I tried calling back, but of course got the generic "we're closed now" message. Maybe the supervisor was dealing with a backlog of complaints (not surprising), or maybe she was betting that she wouldn't have to deal with me.

I blame my primary care doctor mainly because he doesn't listen, even asking me questions like "are you using a pen injector or vials of insulin" and then ordering the wrong prescription electronically. This forces me to make multiple phone calls to places like the pharmacy to do damage control. The reason my phone battery was dead? Because for the second time this week, I had to call Walgreens and wait on hold just to correct my doctor's fuck-ups. Over an hour on hold just to let them know that I wouldn't need the new prescription until the middle of December at the earliest, since I had just refilled my existing insulin prescription.

So now I don't feel comfortable following up with this surgeon because of his staff. Because why would I trust someone to cut me open and perform surgery when their staff is that prickly, and I have no faith in their general competency?

One of my specialists made a disparaging remark about Banner's doctors and their general quality in one of his more candid moments, and I can see why.

I wish I could say that this is isolated to one provider of services, but I've had similar experiences with our private water company, Global Water. Last year, one of their reps was thrown when I referred to their portal as a "web site" (which is what a web portal is, FFS) and decided she was too uncomfortable to continue the call, so after telling me of her discomfort (and apparent inability to do her job), put me on perpetual hold waiting for a supervisor who was never going to pick up the line. Funny enough, calling back got me an elderly lady who had a clue and was able to help... and she was shocked to find out that her coworker was thrown by something so basic.

I think there's a lesson in here about hiring older folks with actual life experience who are both competent and grateful to have the work.

There's also an ugly truth in here that nobody wants to say out loud, and it's a bit assholish to even bring it up, but... In a very real and literal dollars-and-cents fashion, my time is actually more valuable than that of some staffer at a Banner clinic. I'm a highly compensated professional who is consequently under a lot of pressure to perform. My bill rate is high, and my company's bill rate to the end client is even higher. I don't think it's totally off-base to mention this, especially since losing this job means losing that precious medical insurance. I've been chewed out by managers at places like Wells Fargo for this very reason. Nobody likes having their time wasted or disrespected.

Every other doctor gives you a list of doctors and contact info when you ask for a referral, so why my PC decided not to provide me with that in this case (and only mentioned the surgeon's name once in passing before apparently setting things up in Banner's system) is a mystery to me. Well, not that big a mystery. The guy doesn't listen or just plain ignores his patients.

[chelseadagger]

I (almost) made it through the week.

And honestly, that feels like such an accomplishment to me. I had a breakdown on Monday and yet another one on Tuesday. I almost called out of work yesterday but my bff reminded me that when I’m in a depressive state sitting home and marinating in it won’t help me feel better. Then we went to get donuts this morning. I finally made steps to get a new primary care doctor and they also have therapists and psychiatrists at the same office. I’m still on my parents insurance for the next month and a half (thanks, Obama!!!!!!) but it turns out that only the PCP contracts with my insurance and I would have to pay out of pocket for the behavioral health. So now I can either find my own private therapist or wait until November when I have to purchase my own insurance. It’s always something.

On another note, I literally cannot wait for this weekend. I’m super excited to drink it up at a local brewery with @thethoughtlottery and then I’m going apple picking with my roommates on Sunday. And thank the gods I have Monday off. I also decided that I’m going to call out next Friday because I have to go home for a family event and I’d rather not hit the traffic I did last time. @teressabee @tinuvielwasdancingthere let me know if you ladies will be around!!!

[w3as3ly]

...mental health

I’m going to be honest with you guys, even though this will certainly make me look weak. There’s a reason most people’s social media exhibits a distortion of their reality. We get to pick and choose what aspects of our identities is seen. To protect myself, I leave the bad out.

Being silent isn’t going to help anyone out. I’m going to break out of my safe little world I’ve created on here, and tell you a little about the reality of things lately. Well actually five months ago. Someone said “I’m so happy you’re sharing your mental health journey,” and I was embarrassed to admit that I’d already deleted it, hiding any sign of weakness. 

For the past 22 years of my life, I’ve been lucky my mental health didn’t impinge on my ability to achieve my ridiculous standards I’d set for myself. In fact, I saw a therapist for the first time in my life, and she immediately saw that I had created some sort of performance based esteem. No matter what I added to my resume, no matter how well I performed at soccer, the piano, molecular biology… nothing actually made me feel accomplished. When I graduated with my bachelors in cellular and molecular biology, I literally didn’t get even a jolt of feeling good about myself.

Now what led me to see a therapist for the first time in my life? I’m really not sure what the trigger was, but a few months after me and Ashley broke up, I started to get heart palpitations, my heart rate was consistently in the 130’s, shortness of breath, and this sharp chest pain. I thought I was stressed about my new job. But then days passed and I couldn’t get a break, I could not relax. People said, what’s on your mind, what’s wrong, Rach? I literally said there’s nothing on my damn mind. Nothing. I can’t point to something I “need to talk about, to get off my chest.” I just physiologically felt this way, and psychologically couldn’t find a cause. I eliminated caffeine from my diet. Stopped and did meditative breathing techniques. Exercised. Nothing helped. I am so lucky, so loved, so privileged, my life has been like a dream, and yet I was still completely shaken.

Regardless of the trigger, I recognized I was losing control, feeling like I was losing my mind, and, scared I might lose my job, I made a desperate attempt to stop this terrifying feeling. My only relief from the pain and heart palpitations was when I was asleep, and I was beginning to wish to be asleep more than be alive. The only time I felt any peace was when I was sleeping. But I got help. My primary care doctor saw me with only 24 hours notice, prescribed me an SSRI, selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, a type of antidepressant that can treat anxiety, and Xanax for the acute instances of panic. It was plain as day to her that I had anxiety. She took care of me. I didn’t know it could be so debilitating.

I come from a blue collar, working class family that doesn’t really talk about feelings. They weren’t much help. But after battling the acute moments, and the SSRI kicking in after three weeks, my baseline returned to normal, and I felt myself again. I’m still not sure of the trigger. My insurance is terrible and didn’t cover therapy, and I was running out of money, especially with the medications not authorized, and 10x the price other people would spend.

There was this one day where I was sitting listening to live music, on a date, good pie in front of me, hot chocolate. And my heart rate suddenly jumped to 160 and stayed that way for five hours. And I couldn’t enjoy the food. I couldn’t embrace the music. My body was in fight or flight mode for no apparent reason. And I was so horrified. I didn’t tell her. I just silently took it, let it beat me down. Counting down the minutes until I could escape, collapse into bed, sleep and get a minutes peace. Anxiety truly is debilitating, but I fought back, and I couldn’t do it alone. My primary care doctor saved my ass. I’m still on the SSRI, though I want to be off of it.

The bottom line: you aren’t alone. Even some of the strongest of us have been broken down. We all have our own battles. No one is perfect, and there’s nothing wrong with getting a helping hand.

[myocdstory]

My OCD Story

As a child I would count steps "one, one, two, two, three, three, four, four" on each foot and would count up to 12 (sometimes 20). Sometimes I would count like this when I was not walking. I thought I got this from Sesame Street. In middle school I was obsessed with evenness. When I ate food I would divide it evenly in my mouth. I would step on a sidewalk boxes 4 times before moving my leg to another. I'd have to walk the same number of steps on my left foot as my right foot.  I had to step on tile lines with one foot the same way as the other. In high school I became obsessed with certain events, googling them over and over again. I knew this wasn't normal and possibly rising to the level of a disorder. I played doctor and diagnosed myself with PTSD, but questioned the diagnosis as I did not fit the criteria for PTSD.

At age 19 I kept checking doors repeatedly to see if I locked them and checking toilets to make sure I flushed them. My family was annoyed with me checking the balcony door over and over during the evening, and my sister told me "you already checked" but they weren't severe enough to get help. At this point I realized I had OCD, but questioned whether I really had it since I wasn't washing my hands constantly. To be honest as a teenager I hardly washed my hands. I would wash my hands for 5 seconds after using the bathroom unless they were visibly dirty.

Then my symptoms got worse. If I walked a certain path I had to walk back the same path. I would spend 30 minutes deciding which path to take, which side of the road to walk on. If it takes 15 minutes to walk home, it would take me 1 hour to walk home. Sometimes I moved my hands instead of walking back. At this point it was clear I had OCD. When I was 20 I was late to a psychotherapy appointment because I went back to the beach boardwalk to take a different exit. I at first didn't like the idea of taking meds that would alter my brain. But I knew my OCD was severe enough that therapy alone won't help. Eventually I accepted the fact I needed meds. One time I drank a glass of champagne at a restaurant to help me quell my OCD. But that made my OCD worse. I went home and I was deciding which path to take walking back. Dad was wondering why I haven't come home yet went out to find me and yelled at me. I cried saying I needed a psychiatrist. Dad prints a list of psychiatrists in our insurance, all female. I procrastinated and then misplaced the paper. So at the last minute I used google and found a medical center nearby. I knew there was a new condo at that street and when I googled this placed google earth displayed this new condo. I couldn't find a doctor's name so I assumed there were multiple doctors in one practice. On Friday April 21, I made an appointment. The next available appointment was on Monday April 24. They were literally available all day.

When I got there I saw this place wasn't located in the beautiful condo, but in an old commercial space next door to it. I brought my mom along because I was nervous and she was paying. I filled out a questionnaire. Office staff said I had to take a urinalysis and I asked why since I was there for OCD. Then I saw the psychiatrist. I told him I had OCD and told him my symptoms, "such as walking back and forth, repeating certain phrases, counting steps, etc." He asks as bunch of questions about my history and does the mental status exam, such as who is the president, math problems, what would you do, etc. He asks me checklist questions about my OCD which I could only answer "yes" or "no" such as "do you wash hands" "do you arrange objects" "do you have religious obsessions"?. I answered "no" to many of the questions but most of the questions did not match my symptoms. He continues to ask about my history then asks to speak to my mom. I say no and he says he just wants to ask her questions. He asks about history such as marriage, pregnancy, when I was a young child, etc. Then my mom starts complaining about me sleeping all day, how my dad yelled because of something I did last night, etc. I told her to be quiet but doc insists I let her speak. Doctor asks how old I am and I said I was 21. He said I looked 15, and yes I do look younger than I am. Doctor thought at 21 I should be independent from my parents. At 1st he was discussing a residential facility. He said they have a schedule they will enforce so I can't sleep all day. He then says a residential facility will see I'm smart and suggested a supported apartment. He asked me what I want to be and we started talking about my career plans. He says to call Ohel which offers a supported apartment and employment training. He said he isn't going to prescribe medication as he felt it wasn't needed. I asked "what are you going to do about the OCD?" and he answers with the dismissive gesture that he will treat the OCD. He doesn't make a follow up appointment. I then did the urinalysis and handed office staff the cup. Then I was walking back and forth in and out of the bathroom, touching things until it felt right. I asked the office staff when is the next appointment and they said I can always call to schedule an appointment. I didn't know when to schedule the next appointment. After all they have a lot of availability. I was angry after the appointment. Later that day my mom told me that in order for the doctor to prescribe meds I have to first be evaluated by Ohel. She told me the psychiatrist can't prescribe meds at the first appointment. That night my dad told me to call Ohel.

The next day I heard my mom call Ohel so I picked up the phone. She told them I am "svoyeobraznaya" in Russian which translates as "peculiar" or "not like everyone else". The director told my mom that "is not a diagnosis" and they need a diagnosis. Mom starts telling them diagnosis unrelated to my OCD. I insist she hang up the phone and she got mad. I was not willing to call Ohel after this because I thought she would ruin everything like she did with the appointment. I debated whether I should make another appointment with this doctor. While one part of me said "well this is his treatment plan" I wasn't comfortable with him.

I was still complaining about OCD. I just wanted out of this hell. My dad told me to look for a new psychiatrist and if he has to pay out of pocket, this will be the last psychiatrist he will pay for. I was very picky about my psychiatrist, and would not choose anyone with less than 4 star ratings. He has great reviews, most of which mention medication, is a few blocks from me, and a professional member of the American Psychiatric Association, wrote in his description he treats OCD, and in our insurance plan. But the earliest available appointment was a month away. So, I went to my primary care physician. I was hoping he'd prescribe something to get me out of this hell, but my plan was not to mention medication as I don't want him to think I'm drug seeking.

Doctor leads me to the exam room asking what brings me here. I told him "I am here for OCD If I walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk I have to walk back. I avoid stepping on manhole covers." He says they cannot treat OCD but can refer me to professionals who will. Then he asks me "are you taking meds for this?" and I said no. He asks "why aren't you taking meds?" and I told him I already went to a psychiatrist and he thought I didn't need meds. Doc says "That's not true. You do need meds." I told him I made an appointment with another psychiatrist on ZocDoc but it's a month away. He takes my height and weight at the front of the office and my mom was there. "I will refer you to providers where you don't have to wait a month." Then doc writes the number to a neurologist and Maimonides psychology. He asks what's the name of the doc who refused to prescribe meds. I answered and he says "forget about him". I asked if I should cancel the appointment and he says no. He says "see a neurologist because a psychiatrist will just dismiss her as drug seeking". Mom told him I torture her saying I have OCD. Doc says I am right to torture her as OCD is serious. He told my mom to take this OCD seriously. My mom later told me I went to the wrong specialist.

When I got home dad told me that the neurologist he referred us to isn't in our insurance and gave me a list of doctors in our insurance. One wasn't accepting new patients. One didn't pick up the phone. I called another one and it was in TWO WEEKS. She said there is another neurologist in their office which was available sooner. I said yes and dad googled her to make sure she was in our insurance plan and she was. When I saw her she said I have to see a psychiatrist for OCD. I told her I already saw a psychiatrist who refused to treat my OCD and my primary care doctor said to see a neurologist. She said in the Soviet Union neurologists treated OCD but in America psychiatrists treat OCD and canceled my appointment. So I went to the right specialist all along.

My only option was to wait for the psychiatrist. Waiting is hell. Especially if you are suffering. When I had the appointment with the psychiatrist, I described my symptoms. This psychiatrist has a 2nd job as he is involved in clinical trials. That's why it takes a month to get an appointment. On the 1st appointment he prescribes Prozac 20mg and a refill as he will be on vacation.  I asked about Zoloft and he said Zoloft was not approved for OCD, which isn't true.  Prozac is one pill a day and Zoloft is two pills a day morning and evening. I figured one pill is better than two.

The next day I took the drug and saw it working. I was no longer avoiding gum patches. At first the medicine made me depressed and gave me cold-like symptoms. But those side effects went away. In a month the dose is increased to 40mg. It no longer mattered what I stepped on, manhole covers, sidewalk ventilation grates, cigarette butts, you name it. I stopped walking back and forth.

When I realized I had OCD, I began doing a lot of research. During this research, I discovered I had symptoms of OCD as a child. I didn't know the counting I did, the way I walked, or my obsession with events in high school were all symptoms of OCD. What I went through in high school was called "pure-o", a type of OCD without overt compulsions. This type of OCD is never talked about .The OCD symptoms we talk about are washing hands, arranging objects and being a perfectionist. I was none of that. My room was a mess in high school. If it weren't for my parents cleaning my room, I would be like those people on the hoarder TV shows. After I started medication my dad and I cleaned out my room and I realized I was a hoarder. I couldn't throw away old catalogues, my sister's 2011-12 high school directory (she already graduated high school), etc. When I did research I learned that hoarding is a symptom of OCD.

So I ended up leaving a negative review about the first psychiatrist. I then began to read other reviews about him, most of which were negative. One was that he refused to treat people. Another one is that he seemed irritated working with patients. This is basically how I felt with him. Another review was written after mine. The doctor wrote a prescription incorrectly and patient pointed it out. Doctor begins to chastise the patient saying they are not his only patient, and they cannot expect special treatment, like the doctor returning patient's call. The only reason the patient goes back to them is because they have a lot of availability and the patient needs their meds. I see why they have a lot of availability. This doctor sucks so every patient leaves and doesn't go back to him. Once I left him thank goodness I didn't make another appointment.

[nooneaskedyoulauren]

Fighting with people seems like a waste of time to me. Unless you’re doing some kind of wacky fighting sport where everyone’s on the same page, and it’s just sparring. Actual conflict? Thumbs down.

I prefer to pick fights with huge things. HUGE.

“Are you saying you like fighting with fat people and fat people aren’t actual people because that’s what it sounds like.”

I suppose it does kind of sound like that. I actually do apologize because I literally mean huge things, like, today for example, a pharmaceutical company. Also my fighting style is both passive and fairly ineffective. Basically run up on whatever the threat is, say/do a bunch of off-the-wall stuff, flee somehow, then just see how it plays out. Also a simple non-sensical meme misappropriating a company’s logo on a blog that truly doesn’t see the light of day.

“Good thing no one reads your blog then because that seems pretty futile. Also, stupid. And ineffective, as you mentioned.”

Thank you for that! Also, to circle back to your original comment don’t fucking fight with fat people they will kick your ass. Pound for pound you don’t stand a chance, for real. Savages. The cool kind. Except when they take it a little too far and they’re miserable or having major fucking issues about it then seriously don’t fuck with them until they work through that.

Anyway.

Most pharmaceutical companies are branches of other companies that do other stuff. Johnson & Johnson, for example. They do all kinds of stuff.

“Like what?”

It’s too long of a list. Just Google it and see whatever you find and run with it. I’m sure you’ve heard of Johnson & Johnson before. I hope this is a good writing prompt for a conspiracy theorist working on what this could possibly be kind of implying.

“Oh here we go.”

Luckily, for those who just simply cannot with conspiracy theories, I am very selfish and although I truly do care about other people and the good of the world or whatever whatever, I am most concerned about myself. The 100% truth. I realize things suck, I have experienced a few things, I have helped people through tough times and they have “helped” me. At the moment I’m pretty riled up about my own life and my own bullshit.

“Ok well I can’t believe I even read this far, if this doesn’t apply to me then I’m going to go do something else.”

Ok, byeeeeeeee! 👋

If anyone is still reading, this is specifically for anyone who has taken an atypical antipsychotic for one thing when perhaps you were dealing with another issue. And maybe that medication was later said to treat that correct issue but maybe your dosage was just maybe not quite right because at the time it was given for this other thing because of whatever reasons.

NOTE: PHARMACEUTICAL DRUGS AND RECREATIONAL DRUGS CAN HAVE THERAPEUTIC AND EFFECTIVE USES FOR DIFFERENT PEOPLE DEALING WITH DIFFERENT THINGS. Surround yourself with a supportive and trusting network and take some time to educate yourself on whatever your issue(s) are so you don’t have to deal with making things 1000 times worse for yourself versus better. If you are having trouble building a strong support network, keep chipping away at that, but in the mean time education can help.

If anyone is familiar with medications, side effects can occur. In no way am I saying doctors are stupid, I am just saying they are just looking at the facts at hand and doing their very best to treat whatever your goddamn issue is.

“Hey, there’s no need to be so aggressive!”

True. I just can imagine the frustration, from both sides. The fucking patient and the fucking doctor.

Let’s say a doctor is treating someone who is unable to express the issue in a way that can be understood.

“Well I suppose they become a veterinarian at that point, am I right? Hahahaha!”

Clever, however not helpful, at the moment.

I’ve personally been on the patient side and it’s very concerning when your doctor clearly is less knowledgeable about your specific issue than you, it really breaks down the trust. The nurses always seem to know what the fuck is going on and watching that whole power dynamic is entertainment in itself however, generally, when someone actually goes to the doctor they have an issue requiring treatment not a ticket to the live action soap opera show.

“That’s why they have specialists you stupid bitch.”

Yeah, but what if I can’t get the referral from my primary care or what if the specialist is not in my area or fucking the insurance is a PPO vs. and HMO because my employer...

“I gotta go.”

Again, byeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 👋

Anyway, sometimes drugs you’ll take and then have an issue with will later resurface in a class action lawsuit and then you can at least have something.

“Well that’s cool! Money! I mean how bad are the side effects?”

Oh, you’re back. What can I say that will...

“Sorry this is getting a little interesting!

Look. Hormones are a thing. Those are regulated within the human brain and the reproductive system. Also, environmental (as in a person’s person environment, what they are eating and drinking and their tolerance to people that are genuine assholes and living space, etc. etc. etc.). So, you could possibly infer from all this that hormones play a factor in the presentation and effective treatment of different mental illnesses that came about for whatever reason.

“This is getting pretty sciency and also, you are not an actual doctor so why should I even listen to you.”

Thank you!!! All of that is correct. Also, in no way have I backed up any of my statements above with any previously-done research. Is there a works cited page? Nope! This is going to end in a basic white bitch-worthy health and fitness tip spiel.

“Ok, I’m leaving again but I’m still listening because I need to lose some weight.”

I. Hear. You.

If you’ve taken a medication and your body is now ravaged from a combination of a lot of things I have said above get to a place where you are safe and secure. Gather yourself together. And get back to basics.

“🙄.”

Go vegan.

“You did not just go there.”

Oh I’m there.

“You can’t sustain yourself on that diet.”

True, if you don’t know what the fuck you are doing you absolutely will get malnutrition and things will get so much worse, you don’t even know.

“Well goddammit! How is this helping me?”

Three words for you to mull over: Hormones. Safety. Trust.

“Dammit this is just giving me anxiety!”

There you go! You’ve identified something! Go learn about anxiety and if you have that go see a doctor who deals specifically with anxiety and then go seek all the treatment option...

“I can’t deal with this!”

I hear you. Look, you gotta go figure your shit out I am just sharing my experiences.

“Well, what about that hormone stuff?”

Yeah all that is tricky, which is why I mentioned the vegan thing. Here’s what I’m doing having not given you any of my medical background so, again, just blindly applying what someone else is doing given your situation should be done AT. YOUR. OWN. RISK. I have been taking a step back from animal products other than egg whites, regulating my schedule with regular exercise and sleep, I could go on and on. I have gone on and fucking on. There’s another blog specifically outlining the entire goddamn thing.

“But just tell me real quick a few tips because I don’t really have time.”

Go Google discipline and figure out what that means to you, specifically, independently of anyone else that is the last thing I can possibly suggest at this point. What are you doing in your life, right now, that is making your issue better or worse? Identify that, adjust that.

“You’ve done nothing but ramble. Not one person gives a shit about the pharmaceutical blah blah blah whatever you even started talking about to begin with. You didn’t even give me any concrete or specific tips on what you promised earlier. Why did you even fucking write this?!”

Are you a little bit riled up about your own health and maybe going to look into that for yourself and just kind of go back and give some consideration to whatever your own personal and unique situation is on your own because maybe there’s some merit to all that and you didn’t really think about all that previously because you were so busy worried about everyone else?

“Well, I mean, maybe I guess?”

Cool. Ok now I gotta go. BYEEEEEEEEE 👋

*If you are looking for one on one diet and fitness counseling there are so many talented and knowledgeable fitness experts locally. Do you have a drug issue? You may think you know Pablo Escobar him/herself but you need to determine their motivations prior to seeking wisdom on the intricacies of MDMA if you are actually being fucking serious right now with that bullshit. If you have a genuine medical issue, there’s experts out the ass up in this area. Go to one. Educate yourself. Are you someone that actually thinks I have something to say that is of value and merit? Go search through a dizzying array of blog posts I’ve written beginning in 2009, and just pick something that speaks to you and run with that. Thank you.

[andrewdburton]

A brief guide to cybersecurity basics

Last Monday, I got an email from Spotify saying that somebody in Brazil had logged into my account.

I checked. Sure enough: A stranger was using my Spotify to listen to Michael Jackson. I told Spotify to “sign me out everywhere” — but I didn't change my password.

On Wednesday, it happened again. At 2 a.m., I got another email from Spotify. This time, my sneaky Brazilian friend was listening to Prince. And they apparently liked the looks of one of my playlists (“Funk Is Its Own Reward”), because they'd been listening to that too.

I signed out everywhere again, and this time I changed my password. And I made a resolution.

You see, I've done a poor job of implementing modern online security measures. Yes, I have my critical financial accounts locked down with two-factor authentification, etc., but mostly I'm sloppy when it comes to cybersecurity.

For example, I re-use passwords. I still use passwords from thirty years ago for low-security situations (such as signing up for a wine club or a business loyalty program). And while I've begun creating strong (yet easy to remember) passwords for more important accounts, these passwords all follow a pattern and they're not randomized. Worst of all, I maintain a 20-year-old plain text document in which I store all of my sensitive personal information.

This is dumb. Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb.

I know it's dumb, but I've never bothered to make changes — until now. Now, for a variety of reasons, I feel like it's time for me to make my digital life a little more secure. I spent several hours over the weekend locking things down. Here's how.

A Brief Guide to Cybersecurity

Co-incidentally, the very same day that my Spotify account was being used to stream Prince's greatest hits in Brazil, a Reddit user named /u/ACheetoBandito posted a guide to cybersecurity in /r/fatFIRE. How convenient!

“Cybersecurity is a critical component of financial security, but rarely discussed in personal finance circles,” /u/ACheetoBandito wrote. “Note that cybersecurity practitioners disagree over best practices for personal cybersecurity. This is my perspective, as I have some expertise in the area.”

I won't reproduce the entire post here — you should definitely go read it, if this subject is important to you — but I will list the bullet-point summary along with some of my own thoughts. Our orange-fingered friend recommends that anyone concerned about cybersecurity take the following steps:

Get at least two hardware-based security keys. My pal Robert Farrington (from The College Investor) uses the YubiKey. Google offers its Titan Security Key. (I ordered the YubiKey 5c nano because of its minimal form factor.)

Set up a secret private email account. Your private email address should not be linked in any way to your public email, and the address should be given to no one. (I already have many public email accounts, but I didn't have a private address. I do now.)

Turn on Advanced Protection for both your public and private gmail accounts. Advanced Protection is a free security add-on from Google. Link this to the security keys you acquired in step one. (I haven't set this up because my security keys won't arrive until this afternoon.)

Set up a password manager. Which password manager you choose is up to you. The key is to pick one that you'll use. It's best if this app supports your new security keys for authentification. (I'll cover a few options in the next section of this article.)

Generate new passwords for all accounts. Manually create memorable passwords for your email addresses, your computers (and mobile devices), and for the password manager itself. All other passwords should be strong passwords generated randomly by the password manager.

Associate critical accounts with your new private email address. This will include financial accounts, such as your banks, brokerages, and credit cards. But it could include other accounts too. (I'll use my private email address for core services related to this website, for instance.)

Turn on added security measures for all accounts. Available features will vary from provider to provider, but generally speaking you should be able to activate two-factor authentification (with the security keys, whenever possible) and login alerts.

Turn on text/email alerts for financial accounts. You may also want to turn on alerts for changes to your credit score and/or credit report.

Activate security measures on your mobile devices. Your phone should be locked by a strong authorization measure. And each of your individual financial apps should be locked down with a password and any other possible security measures.

/u/ACheetoBandito recommends some additional, optional security measures. (And that entire Reddit discussion thread is filled with great security tips.)

You might want to freeze your credit (although, if you do, remember that you'll occasionally need to un-freeze your credit to make financial transactions). Some folks will want to encrypt their phones and hard drives. And if you're very concerned about security, purchase a cheap Chromebook and use this as the only device on which you perform financial transactions. (Believe it or not, I'm taking this last optional step. It makes sense to me — and it may be a chance for me to move beyond Quicken.)

Exploring the Best Password Managers

Okay, great! I've ordered a new $150 Chromebook and two hardware-based security keys. I've set up a brand-new, top-secret email address, which I'll connect to any account that needs added security. But I still haven't tackled the weakest point in the process: my text document filled with passwords.

Part of the problem is complacency. My system is simple and I like it. But another part of the problem is analysis paralysis. There are a lot of password managers out there, and I have no idea how to differentiate between them, to figure out which one is right for me and my needs.

For help, I asked my Facebook friends to list the best password managers. I downloaded and installed each of their suggestions, then I jotted down some initial impressions.

LastPass: 16 votes (2 from tech nerds) — LastPass was by far the most popular password manager among my Facebook friends. People love it. I installed it and poked around, and it seems…okay. The interface is a little clunky and the feature set seems adequate (but not robust). The app uses the easy-to-understand “vault” metaphor, which I like. LastPass is free (with premium options available for added cost).

1Password: 7 votes (4 from tech nerds) — This app has similar features to Bitwarden or LastPass. The interface is nice enough, and it seems to provide security alerts. 1Password costs $36/year.

Bitwarden: 4 votes (2 from tech nerds) — Bitwarden has a simple, easy-to-understand interface. It uses the same “vault” metaphor that products like LastPass and 1Password use. It's a strong contender to become the tool I use. Bitwarden is free. For $10 per year, you can add premium security features.

KeePass: 2 votes — KeePass is a free Open Source password manager. There are KeePass installs available for all major computer and mobile operating systems. If you're a Linux nut (or an Open Source advocate), this might be a good choice. I don't like its limited functionality and its terrible interface. KeePass is free.

Dashlane: 2 votes — Of all the password managers I looked at, Dashlane has the nicest interface and the most features. Like many of these tools, it uses the “vault” metaphor, but it allows you to store more things in this vault than other tools do. (You can store ID info — driver license, passport — for instance. There's also a spot to store receipts.) Dashlane has a free basic option but most folks will want the $60/year premium option. (There's also a $120/year option that includes credit monitoring and ID theft insurance.)

Blur: 1 vote — Blur is different than most password managers. It quite literally tries to blur your online identity. It prevents web browsers from tracking you, masks email addresses and credit cards and phone numbers, and (or course) manages passwords. I want some features that Blur doesn't have — and don't want some of the features it does have. Blur costs a minimum of $39/year but that price can become much higher.

Apple Keychain: 1 vote — Keychain has been Apple's built-in password manager since 1999. As such, it's freely available on Apple devices. Most Mac and iOS folks use Keychain without even realizing it. It's not really robust enough to do anything other than store passwords, so I didn't give it serious consideration. Keychain is free and comes installed on Apple products.

Let me be clear: I made only a cursory examination of these password managers. I didn't dive deep. If I tried to compare every feature of every password manager, I'd never choose. I'd get locked into analysis paralysis again. So, I gave each a quick once-over and made a decision based on gut and intuition.

Of these tools, two stood out: Bitwarden and Dashlane. Both sport nice interfaces and plenty of features. Both tools offer free versions, but I'd want to upgrade to a paid premium plan in order to gain access to two-factor authentification (using my new hardware security keys) and security monitoring. This is where Bitwarden has a big advantage. It's only $10 per year. To get the same features, Dashlane is $60/year.

But here's the thing.

I started actually using both of these tools at the same time, entering my website passwords one by one. I stopped after entering ten sites into each. It was clear that I vastly preferred using Dashlane to Bitwarden. It just works in a way that makes sense to me. (Your experience might be different.) So, for a little while at least, I'm going to use Dashlane as my password manager.

The Problem with Passwords

My primary motive for using a password manager is to get my sensitive information out of a plain text document and into something more secure. But I have a secondary motive: I want to improve the strength of my passwords.

When I started using the internet — back in the 1980s, before the advent of the World Wide Web — I didn't spare a thought for password strength. The first password I created (in 1989) was simply the name of my friend who let me use his computer to access the local Bulletin Board Systems. I used that password for years on everything from email accounts to bank sites. I still consider it my “low security” password for things that aren't critical.

I have maybe eight or ten passwords like this: short, simple passwords that I've used in dozens of locations. For the past five years, I've tried to move to unique passwords for each site, passwords that follow a pattern. While these are an improvement, they're still not great. Like I say, they follow a pattern. And while they contain letters, numbers, and symbols, they're all relatively short.

As you might expect, my sloppy password protocol has created something of a security nightmare. Here's a screenshot from the Google Password Checkup tool for one of my accounts.

I get similar results for all of my Google accounts. Yikes.

Plus, there's the problem of account sharing.

Kim and I share a Netflix account. And an Amazon account. And a Hulu account. And an iTunes account. In fact, we probably share twenty or thirty accounts. She and I use the same easy-to-remember password for all of these sign-ins. While none of these accounts are super sensitive, what we're doing is still a poor idea.

So, I want to begin moving toward more secure passwords — even for the accounts I share with Kim.

The good news is that most password managers — including Dashlane — will auto-generate randomized passwords for you. Or I could try something similar to the idea suggested in this XKCD comic:

The trouble, of course, is that each place has different requirements for passwords. Some require numbers. Some require symbols. Some say no symbols. And so on. I don't know of any sites that would let me use four random common words for a password!

For now, I'm going to take a three-pronged approach:

I'll manually create long (but memorable) passwords for my most critical accounts. This is the XKCD method.

For the accounts I share with Kim — Netflix, etcetera — I'll create new, memorable passwords that follow a pattern.

For everything else, I'll let my password manager generate random passwords.

This seems like a good balance between usability and security. Every password will be different. Only the ones I share with Kim will be short; all others will be long. And most of my new passwords will be random gibberish.

Final Thoughts on Cybersecurity

In this short video from Tech Insider, a former National Security Agency security expert shares his top five tips for protecting yourself online.

You'll note that these are similar to the Reddit cybersecurity guide I posted earlier in this article. Here are the steps he says to take to keep yourself safe:

Enable two-factor authentification whenever possible.

Don't use the same password everywhere.

Keep your operating system (and software) up to date.

Be careful with what you post to social media.

Do not share personal information unless you're certain you're dealing with a trusted company or person.

I won't pretend that the steps I'm taking will protect me completely. But my new system is certainly an upgrade from what I've been doing for the past 20+ years — which was, as I've mentioned, dumb dumb dumb.

And I have to confess: I like the idea of restricting my online financial life to one computer — the new $150 Chromebook. I'm not sure if this is actually doable, but I'm going to give it a go. If this works, then I may see if I can find a money-management tool that I like for the machine. Maybe then I can finally leave Quicken 2007 for Mac behind!

What have I missed? What steps have you taken to protect your online accounts? Which do you feel is the best password manager? How do you create memorable, secure passwords? How do you handle shared accounts? Help other GRS readers — and me! — develop better online security practices.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/cybersecurity-basics/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[yesithoughtthat-blog]

It’s OK to quit your job

Maybe it was when I sat at my desk that I realized it, or in line at Pret and feeling the urge burning in my throat, clouding my mind, numbing my hands. 

“everyone cries -- I’m just an easy crier.” I wasn’t ashamed of crying, crying is in my blood, it’s the first way I usually come to express my (almost always) overwhelming emotions. So when I casually strolled into the bathroom at Pret, which I knew would soon become my safehaven, I immediately burst into tears as a way of relieving all the emotions building up. I wasn’t necessarily overwhelmingly sad, but I knew I could afford a little meltdown before I had to head back into my first day of work, and why not? It would give me relief and then I could pick myself back up and continue on my way. I think it’s funny how whenever I cry, I always look at myself in the mirror during the midst of my breakdown. I’m always surprised by how I look even though I’ve literally seen myself cry a million times. Just like, wow, your really deep in some emotions right now, huh. I was going to type, “this bitch really is ugly af when she cries” but I’m working on reducing my use of self-depricating humor. 

So going back to my breakdown, I’m in the mirror, crying, realizing my foundation is being wiped away with my tears, fuck I didn’t pack my foundation so I’ll just blot my face when I get back to the office and hope there aren’t obvious tear tracks on my face. I don’t exactly remember if I felt relief, maybe just relief that I had a moment to not pretend I was ok, but the sadness was still there. I had had a stressful morning, me and my dad had missed our train, fast-walked to my building, I was exhausted from not sleeping (stress and anxiety, ofc), I had barely ate (because not eating when I’m stressed is a great habit, ofc) and now I couldn’t stop the thoughts coming into my head.

The thoughts. Like I miss being at college, I miss my friends, I can’t believe I’m an adult now. The thing about having OCD is my mind tends to go to extremes, tends to believe in the worst case scenario, tends to make me, or at least try, the most miserable I can be. Thankfully it’s all kind of muted and hazy thanks to my antidepressant, my dear dear antidepressant Viibryd. And reading this now I am remembering I never took it today. 

OK back from that. So, yea, I missed being at college, I was exhausted, I could not believe that I would have to repeat this whole day again tomorrow. That drived me nuts too. I hate waking up early with a passion. Again, stems from staying up late because anxiety then it becomes a habit then it starts to interfere with my life, as do all self-destructive habits that come along with mental illnesses. And on top of that, starting a new job is just stressful in its itself! So I had all of these seemingly nice people welcoming me, I had a promising job, but I was miserable. I was silently crying at my desk, I was barely able to concentrate on my job, but I figured it’s pass, that I needed to give myself time to adjust and that I could push through it like I had everything else. 

And thennnnn the next day came. Let me preface this by interjecting that when I say I have an “anxiety disorder” (because OCD is usually met with a face that I can tell is thinking “well I have no idea what that it is but it sounds unpleasant”), they (anyone I tell), is usually thinking that I am anxious over the standard things. Like, oh, I’m anxious people won’t like me, or I’ll have a lot of work, which yea, I was. But also, OCD gives me alot of other stuff to worry about. So just going through about my usual day, I can list off the top of my head what I’d be worried about. Like, I get out of the car and say bye to my mom, and I think “What if this is the last time I see her,” which is not a fun thing to think. And then I wait for the train and I think “what if I passed out right now and then I fell on the tracks, or I tried to get on the train and I fall through the gap” or then I get on the train and think “what if the train gets stuck AND THEN i pass out on the train or I have an anxiety attack” AND THEN i get to penn and I think “what if i passed out in front of all these people or get an anxiety attack” AND THEN i walk to work and that’s when the vertigo starts, or the dissociation, or the clammy hands or dry mouth or all of the above and I’m thinking “all you have to do is walk in a straight line, just walk to work” and I can feel the fuzziness in my hands, I can feel it all over my fucking skin and I feel like it’s someone else looking through my eyes and I just can’t grasp if it’s me looking out or if it’s me thinking about thinking and if I’m really there and am I losing my mind or am I imagining my vision going slightly shifty, slightly hazy to make me nervous but not to put me in any danger, just uncomfortable enough to put some sweat on the back on my neck and twitch my hands in my pocket, picking at the same piece of skin next to my thumbnail over and over until it’s bleeding and I have to suffocate it. I have to suffocate the thoughts and I have to get to work on time but I’m so stressed I’m so. fucking. stressed.

And then I get to work. And it doesn’t stop. And mind you, this is my second day! And of course, the second day I cried again, silently weeping at my desk. Of course this job involved the two things I hated, public speaking and flying. it was almost laughable. I actually did laugh, me and my therapist later on. My whole job was giving presentations to clients (middle-aged, stoic faced, insurance or investment clients), and FLYING to different states to give these presentations. Maybe by myself, maybe with a coworker. And I knew 100% I couldn’t do that. So why would I stay? Quitting right before I was supposed to give a huge presentation was obviously not a good idea. But to even think about the work I was doing right now, at that moment, at my desk bored as fuck and feeling so inferior to everyone around me working on computer science and business, which is probably not an accurate but yes how I did feel thought, and then to be stressed, to just want to catch my breath. I knew I had to quit. I knew I was pushing myself too hard. My mom knew it, we had looked at each other before I had gotten out of the car and I had known that fuck, this was going to be hard wasn’t it. So on top of all this stress was my good old friend vertigo popping back into my life, and I’m sitting at my bosses desk and were listening in on a meeting and I feel the floor shift. I had felt it before too when I had gone to the bathroom and that sometimes happens when I sit for too long (and meanwhile as I’m peeing my coworker is brushing her teeth because she had forgot to this morning, if anyone wants an idea of what adult life really is like), and anyways, I’m at her desk and I feel the floor shift. Up, down, tilting side to side like I’m on a boat and I start to feel a little uneasy. And I cannot wait for this fucking meeting to be over. For this client to just shut up already the software is fine, do you really need to understand that part Kathy can I please just leave already, so I’m essentially just staring at the desk at this point and then my boss asks me if I have any questions and I :) of course do not have any, I’m great, awesome, thanks! And I get back to my desk and S.S. Anxiety is fast away on its course, taking me up and down and downnnnn and up and I am freaking the fuck out, naturally. This happened to me before, so it’s not a new feeling, it’s probably my birth control (which is another long story) so I of course then begin to realize -- how am I walking back to Penn. And that fills me with dread. A lot of dread. And after about 20 minutes of deliberation I meekly walk into the girl’s office next to mine, HR, because I guess that’s where you ask to leave early? Who knows. And i ask her if i can leave early and I can feel the tears wanting to surface, I’m embarassed and she tells me I have to ask my boss and I do noooot want to do that. So I sit back at my desk and I’m trying to do some deep breaths, trying to calm down and it eventually it passes! Thank god it passes. And thank god it finally becomes 6 and I start walk to back to penn and I get in the first cab i see because i have had a long day and I deserve this thank you very much. And the cab driver is super nice, telling me how to get to penn because he can tell i have no idea where I’m going, poor girl. And i get to penn and I get on a 6:20 train and i close my eyes and almost miss my stop. But it’s ok because I’m finally home. 

Fast forward the next 2 days, I’m home sick with vertigo, I go to a primary doctor and then an ENT and get prescribed medication that helps. I think my boss is mad at me but I’ve got other fish to fry. I go in monday, I try my hardest, and it’s too much. And that’s what I want to get at. Life is not linear. Just because your “supposed” to do something doesn’t mean you have to. I took a year off of college, even though I wasn’t “supposed” to, and I will never regret it, I am so fucking thankful and grateful I did. And when I sent my resignation letter in later that day, I knew I would be grateful I did.

It’s OK to not follow the line people try to paint you. To take a break, to take care of yourself. My happiness and health comes first. I will be OK not having this job, with finding something else, what other job, I do not know as of right now. But for now, I am going to commit to working on things I have wanted to for a whileeeee, like working out! and continuing to improve how I manage my emotions, because that will always be an up and down situation I can work on. I ranted alot to my friends about this, but I also googled “quitting job bc of anxiety” and reading the 3 other blog posts I found made me feel a little less alone, and I’m a huge advocate of speaking out about mental health, so hopefully someone else out there reads this and knows they aren’t alone too. You’ll be ok. Trust me.

[flauntpage]

There's More to Mikal Bridges Than Meets the Eye

LAS VEGAS — Mikal Bridges is the most crystallized lottery pick in his draft class, which is one reason why his entrance into the NBA was more unsettling than expected. “My agent said anything can happen,” Bridges tells me. “That was true.”

Nothing is certain in professional sports, but whichever team picked Bridges just about knew what it would get: a wing who’ll be 22 years old on opening night, who won two national championships at Villanova with a skill-set that’s immediately suitable for the NBA's modern backdrop.

Bridges didn’t know the Philadelphia 76ers—a team in search of swift production at his own position and owned by a company that also employs his mother, Tyneeha Rivers, as Vice President of Human Resources—planned to take him with the tenth pick until they were on the clock. The moment Commissioner Adam Silver read his name from the Barclays Center podium, Rivers, who was seated to her son's left, jumped from her seat, screamed, and shook a pair of jubilant fists over her head. Minutes later, she was interviewed on live television. This was a literal dream come true on multiple levels for everyone involved; from on-court fit to off-court familiarity, it was perfect.

“It’s amazing. It’s an experience I’ll never forget, and I’m so excited he’s coming home to be a part of our Sixers family. It’s amazing,” she sang through jittery exhilaration. “Go Sixers!” Not even 20 minutes later, the overwhelming joy was partially replaced by confusion. Bridges—who didn’t have his cell phone with him—fielded questions at a press conference after the trade that sent him to the Phoenix Suns popped up on Twitter.

“I didn’t understand,” Bridges says. “I heard ‘trade’ when I was walking and they were mumbling and I asked what they were talking about and they told me later. But I was just more wanting to see how my mom was because she was so excited for me to be back home. [I’m a] big mama’s boy.”

It took a few minutes to process the news. Unlike Philadelphia, Charlotte, New York, or Cleveland, Phoenix was never on Bridges’s radar. He didn’t interview with their front office or workout for their coaches. But according to Bridges, the Suns spoke to Villanova head coach Jay Wright hours before the trade, and were confident enough with the information they gathered from him and other sources to surrender their own 16th pick and an unprotected first-round pick owned by the Miami Heat in 2021.

The initial daydream that was filled with no-look passes from Ben Simmons and a chance to defend in front of a brick wall like Joel Embiid quickly shifted to all the possibilities provided by Phoenix’s unmarked canvas and lesser expectations. “A lot of people think I was gonna be upset because I’m not home. But they don’t get the point that I was drafted that night. So it’s what people think, but I was really excited. As soon as I got traded I thought about the pieces they have and how bad they wanted me.”

Bridges had already formed a close relationship with Phoenix’s first overall pick Deandre Ayton after the two spent time together in Los Angeles at the College Basketball Awards back in April, and he remembers competing against Devin Booker at various camps during high school. Right now, the Suns depth chart is filled with positional overlap, between Bridges, Josh Jackson, T.J. Warren, and incoming $15 million man Trevor Ariza. But compared to the Sixers, where action is almost always initiated by Simmons or Embiid, the opportunity for Bridges to cultivate more areas of his expanding game may prove useful in Phoenix.

For now, he’s most appealing when there’s nothing to think about. Whenever a pass glides towards his chest and smacks into his hands, he stares at the rim, bends his knees, and uncoils a picturesque jump shot that begins just southwest of his belly button and ends a couple feet above his forehead. Topped off by a brisk release that’s unbothered by just about every defender who’s asked to stop it, his form was molded by thousands of attempts at Villanova, where the coaching staff encouraged him to center a shot pocket that originally began way out on the left side of his body.

Today’s culmination is graceful, effortless, consistent, and the primary reason he’s a lanky, cherished jewel in the minds of executives throughout the NBA. Whether he’s sprinting off a down screen or standing still on the perimeter, Bridges has already mastered a skill that will raise his floor and insure his place on an NBA roster for at least a decade.

“I feel like I’ve got a lot of confidence in myself, and I feel like every time I catch and shoot, it’s going in,” he tells me. “No matter if there’s a person in front of me.” Bridges finished college as a 40 percent shooter from deep, but got better every season. Last year, on his way to winning the Julius Erving Award, he launched six threes per game and made 43.5 percent of them. I ask if he thinks he can be one of the ten best shooters in the world. “There’s a lot of great shooters in the NBA. You can say top ten, but I just know I have confidence in myself where every time I catch it, I’m gonna make it.”

Here’s a designed play from his Summer League debut, a set that takes advantage of everything Bridges can already do at the NBA level. He slips a ball screen and then comes off Ayton’s pick for an open three. Everything is tight and the timing is perfect. It’s the type of sequence that we’ll see throughout his career, twitchy misdirection that burns a defense already worried about his teammates.

Bridges, whose pre-draft allure rested on his ability to seamlessly slide in as a 3-and-D contributor, knows what he is and why he was drafted, even though untapped potential may bubble just below the surface. “If I work on live ball screen stuff but they just want me to catch and shoot and be a defender I’m gonna do that,” he says. “I’m gonna still be working on my game, but whatever they want me to do I’ll do.”

There lies the challenge for a rebuilding team that needs to figure out if he’s more useful maxed out in a specific role, or operating with some slack, able to develop different segments of his game that would otherwise lay dormant. There’s plenty of time to find an answer, but figuring out how he can have the most impact will be worth debating right away.

“I don’t think it’d be intelligent to talk about being anything more than who you are at the highest level you can be. And I think that’ll be his mindset,” says La Salle head coach Ashley Howard, who recruited Bridges to Villanova and then coached him for four seasons. “He’ll continue to add things to his game, but I don’t think that’s smart until he’s proven that he can be that reliable guy day in and day out."

Howard was an assistant coach at Xavier when he first saw Bridges play. Then a slender standout at Great Valley High School in Malvern, Pennsylvania, Bridges’s cousin sent Howard a highlight tape. “He was the tallest guy on his high school team so he was forced to do everything. He was the best player,” Howard says. “He would handle the ball, he rebounded, blocked shots. He was really good at moving without the ball, cutting to the basket, and had a really good knack for making a lot of—just like the way he is now—easy, simple, fundamental basketball plays.”

At his first recruitment meeting after Villanova hired him, Howard told the coaching staff his thoughts on Bridges’s upside, and how he was someone the program needed to have on its radar. They watched him flash even more potential in AAU that spring and offered him a scholarship soon after.

"I’ve got a lot of confidence in myself, and I feel like every time I catch and shoot, it’s going in.”

Instead of thriving as a one-and-done prospect, Bridges red-shirted his freshman year and spent countless hours in practice and before games working out with Howard. The NBA, let alone being a top-ten pick, was still a pipe dream, but Howard did everything he could to build Bridges up into what he is today. “I would talk trash to him,” he says. “I would create drills that I knew were next to impossible and just challenge him. He would never quit, but it would just drive him to the point where he knew what I was doing and it was a grind for him. He kept battling to the point where he’d win the drills, and then I’d have to try and create new drills to force him to have greater challenges.”

The journey from those workouts—that often ended with Bridges still angry at Howard until the next one began—to Phoenix is compelling and delightful. But where he goes from here is a bit of a paradox. Bridges’s age makes his evolution feel closer to completion than it probably is—he’s two months older than Booker, who’s already spent three seasons in the NBA and just signed a five-year, $158 million contract—which makes him less shiny than the nine teenagers selected before him. But the way he improved throughout college, going from a skinny redshirt freshman to the Big East’s leader in PER and True Shooting percentage, hints at a career that could surprise a lot of people.

Three years ago, he didn't start once and averaged 6.4 points per game. Only 29.9 percent of his threes went in and his 14.5 usage rate was fourth-lowest on Villanova. Last year, he started every game, upped his scoring to 17.7 points per game and only trailed (Wooden Award winner) Jalen Brunson in usage rate.

In a day and age when having a fluid wing who can protect the rim, deflect a ton of passes, and credibly space the floor is at a premium, every NBA team wants Bridges's attributes. Sitting in the stands at Las Vegas Summer League, one writer likened him to J.J. Redick...if J.J. Redick could guard three positions. Another wondered if he could be Corey Brewer with an outside shot. At worst, he may be a more consistent Robert Covington. “Uncompromising Otto Porter/Khris Middleton” is not impossible. Neither is him getting buried in Wesley Johnson Cemetery.

Most likely, though, a shot so accurate even when under duress—"He’s a really good shooter," Howard says—mixed with the physical dimensions of a vicious help and individual defender (he's 6’7” with Draymond Green’s wingspan) epitomizes what’s most valuable in a league that requires versatility from virtually anyone who wants to play more than 32 minutes a night. Less than a quarter of all players who saw the floor that often stood 6’10” or taller last season. (Two years ago, nobody in the country defended Josh Hart—arguably college basketball’s best player at the time—better than Bridges could during practice. That’s when some of his coaches realized they might have a first-round pick on their hands.)

If he's a complementary piece then he'll have to excel with duties that are both expected and nothing to be ashamed of, in a job that blends nicely with his subdued disposition. “I think Mikal’s development was shocking because he doesn’t have the personality of a guy that’s outwardly the most confident or swagged out, right? He just shows up and goes to work everyday. Works, puts his time in. Works, puts his time in,” Howard says. “Once Josh Hart left, Mikal just kind of said ‘OK, my turn’ and then took his game up another level.”

But the blueprint for something more is there. “I don’t know what ball player doesn’t want to have more responsibilities,” Bridges tells me. “As I get older and just keep working on my game, I’m just trying to be like Kawhi and Paul George. You know, they started off more catch-and-shoot, and then when they got bigger roles they’d start playmaking.”

That’s an exciting thought. Bridges snugly fits into the NBA’s present and future. He also may top out as a role player, which makes Phoenix's decision to give up all they did for that type of service a bit divisive. But what's done is done, and if they just added a decade of Wesley Matthews-esque service to their organization then that's indisputably a very good thing. If they somehow landed a budding All-Star, all the better.

Either way, Bridges should check off multiple boxes. Whether he ends up being more than what's currently advertised or exactly what most expect, the Suns may suddenly have the NBA’s premier young core because Bridges is the type of player who elevates teammates on both sides of the ball.

"You’ve just got to keep getting better and be that player they want you to be. Embrace that role," Bridges says. "I’m just trying to be the best basketball player I can be."

There's More to Mikal Bridges Than Meets the Eye published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

There’s More to Mikal Bridges Than Meets the Eye

LAS VEGAS — Mikal Bridges is the most crystallized lottery pick in his draft class, which is one reason why his entrance into the NBA was more unsettling than expected. “My agent said anything can happen,” Bridges tells me. “That was true.”

Nothing is certain in professional sports, but whichever team picked Bridges just about knew what it would get: a wing who’ll be 22 years old on opening night, who won two national championships at Villanova with a skill-set that’s immediately suitable for the NBA’s modern backdrop.

Bridges didn’t know the Philadelphia 76ers—a team in search of swift production at his own position and owned by a company that also employs his mother, Tyneeha Rivers, as Vice President of Human Resources—planned to take him with the tenth pick until they were on the clock. The moment Commissioner Adam Silver read his name from the Barclays Center podium, Rivers, who was seated to her son’s left, jumped from her seat, screamed, and shook a pair of jubilant fists over her head. Minutes later, she was interviewed on live television. This was a literal dream come true on multiple levels for everyone involved; from on-court fit to off-court familiarity, it was perfect.

“It’s amazing. It’s an experience I’ll never forget, and I’m so excited he’s coming home to be a part of our Sixers family. It’s amazing,” she sang through jittery exhilaration. “Go Sixers!” Not even 20 minutes later, the overwhelming joy was partially replaced by confusion. Bridges—who didn’t have his cell phone with him—fielded questions at a press conference after the trade that sent him to the Phoenix Suns popped up on Twitter.

“I didn’t understand,” Bridges says. “I heard ‘trade’ when I was walking and they were mumbling and I asked what they were talking about and they told me later. But I was just more wanting to see how my mom was because she was so excited for me to be back home. [I’m a] big mama’s boy.”

It took a few minutes to process the news. Unlike Philadelphia, Charlotte, New York, or Cleveland, Phoenix was never on Bridges’s radar. He didn’t interview with their front office or workout for their coaches. But according to Bridges, the Suns spoke to Villanova head coach Jay Wright hours before the trade, and were confident enough with the information they gathered from him and other sources to surrender their own 16th pick and an unprotected first-round pick owned by the Miami Heat in 2021.

The initial daydream that was filled with no-look passes from Ben Simmons and a chance to defend in front of a brick wall like Joel Embiid quickly shifted to all the possibilities provided by Phoenix’s unmarked canvas and lesser expectations. “A lot of people think I was gonna be upset because I’m not home. But they don’t get the point that I was drafted that night. So it’s what people think, but I was really excited. As soon as I got traded I thought about the pieces they have and how bad they wanted me.”

Bridges had already formed a close relationship with Phoenix’s first overall pick Deandre Ayton after the two spent time together in Los Angeles at the College Basketball Awards back in April, and he remembers competing against Devin Booker at various camps during high school. Right now, the Suns depth chart is filled with positional overlap, between Bridges, Josh Jackson, T.J. Warren, and incoming $15 million man Trevor Ariza. But compared to the Sixers, where action is almost always initiated by Simmons or Embiid, the opportunity for Bridges to cultivate more areas of his expanding game may prove useful in Phoenix.

For now, he’s most appealing when there’s nothing to think about. Whenever a pass glides towards his chest and smacks into his hands, he stares at the rim, bends his knees, and uncoils a picturesque jump shot that begins just southwest of his belly button and ends a couple feet above his forehead. Topped off by a brisk release that’s unbothered by just about every defender who’s asked to stop it, his form was molded by thousands of attempts at Villanova, where the coaching staff encouraged him to center a shot pocket that originally began way out on the left side of his body.

Today’s culmination is graceful, effortless, consistent, and the primary reason he’s a lanky, cherished jewel in the minds of executives throughout the NBA. Whether he’s sprinting off a down screen or standing still on the perimeter, Bridges has already mastered a skill that will raise his floor and insure his place on an NBA roster for at least a decade.

“I feel like I’ve got a lot of confidence in myself, and I feel like every time I catch and shoot, it’s going in,” he tells me. “No matter if there’s a person in front of me.” Bridges finished college as a 40 percent shooter from deep, but got better every season. Last year, on his way to winning the Julius Erving Award, he launched six threes per game and made 43.5 percent of them. I ask if he thinks he can be one of the ten best shooters in the world. “There’s a lot of great shooters in the NBA. You can say top ten, but I just know I have confidence in myself where every time I catch it, I’m gonna make it.”

Here’s a designed play from his Summer League debut, a set that takes advantage of everything Bridges can already do at the NBA level. He slips a ball screen and then comes off Ayton’s pick for an open three. Everything is tight and the timing is perfect. It’s the type of sequence that we’ll see throughout his career, twitchy misdirection that burns a defense already worried about his teammates.

Bridges, whose pre-draft allure rested on his ability to seamlessly slide in as a 3-and-D contributor, knows what he is and why he was drafted, even though untapped potential may bubble just below the surface. “If I work on live ball screen stuff but they just want me to catch and shoot and be a defender I’m gonna do that,” he says. “I’m gonna still be working on my game, but whatever they want me to do I’ll do.”

There lies the challenge for a rebuilding team that needs to figure out if he’s more useful maxed out in a specific role, or operating with some slack, able to develop different segments of his game that would otherwise lay dormant. There’s plenty of time to find an answer, but figuring out how he can have the most impact will be worth debating right away.

“I don’t think it’d be intelligent to talk about being anything more than who you are at the highest level you can be. And I think that’ll be his mindset,” says La Salle head coach Ashley Howard, who recruited Bridges to Villanova and then coached him for four seasons. “He’ll continue to add things to his game, but I don’t think that’s smart until he’s proven that he can be that reliable guy day in and day out.”

Howard was an assistant coach at Xavier when he first saw Bridges play. Then a slender standout at Great Valley High School in Malvern, Pennsylvania, Bridges’s cousin sent Howard a highlight tape. “He was the tallest guy on his high school team so he was forced to do everything. He was the best player,” Howard says. “He would handle the ball, he rebounded, blocked shots. He was really good at moving without the ball, cutting to the basket, and had a really good knack for making a lot of—just like the way he is now—easy, simple, fundamental basketball plays.”

At his first recruitment meeting after Villanova hired him, Howard told the coaching staff his thoughts on Bridges’s upside, and how he was someone the program needed to have on its radar. They watched him flash even more potential in AAU that spring and offered him a scholarship soon after.

“I’ve got a lot of confidence in myself, and I feel like every time I catch and shoot, it’s going in.”

Instead of thriving as a one-and-done prospect, Bridges red-shirted his freshman year and spent countless hours in practice and before games working out with Howard. The NBA, let alone being a top-ten pick, was still a pipe dream, but Howard did everything he could to build Bridges up into what he is today. “I would talk trash to him,” he says. “I would create drills that I knew were next to impossible and just challenge him. He would never quit, but it would just drive him to the point where he knew what I was doing and it was a grind for him. He kept battling to the point where he’d win the drills, and then I’d have to try and create new drills to force him to have greater challenges.”

The journey from those workouts—that often ended with Bridges still angry at Howard until the next one began—to Phoenix is compelling and delightful. But where he goes from here is a bit of a paradox. Bridges’s age makes his evolution feel closer to completion than it probably is—he’s two months older than Booker, who’s already spent three seasons in the NBA and just signed a five-year, $158 million contract—which makes him less shiny than the nine teenagers selected before him. But the way he improved throughout college, going from a skinny redshirt freshman to the Big East’s leader in PER and True Shooting percentage, hints at a career that could surprise a lot of people.

Three years ago, he didn’t start once and averaged 6.4 points per game. Only 29.9 percent of his threes went in and his 14.5 usage rate was fourth-lowest on Villanova. Last year, he started every game, upped his scoring to 17.7 points per game and only trailed (Wooden Award winner) Jalen Brunson in usage rate.

In a day and age when having a fluid wing who can protect the rim, deflect a ton of passes, and credibly space the floor is at a premium, every NBA team wants Bridges’s attributes. Sitting in the stands at Las Vegas Summer League, one writer likened him to J.J. Redick…if J.J. Redick could guard three positions. Another wondered if he could be Corey Brewer with an outside shot. At worst, he may be a more consistent Robert Covington. “Uncompromising Otto Porter/Khris Middleton” is not impossible. Neither is him getting buried in Wesley Johnson Cemetery.

Most likely, though, a shot so accurate even when under duress—”He’s a really good shooter,” Howard says—mixed with the physical dimensions of a vicious help and individual defender (he’s 6’7” with Draymond Green’s wingspan) epitomizes what’s most valuable in a league that requires versatility from virtually anyone who wants to play more than 32 minutes a night. Less than a quarter of all players who saw the floor that often stood 6’10” or taller last season. (Two years ago, nobody in the country defended Josh Hart—arguably college basketball’s best player at the time—better than Bridges could during practice. That’s when some of his coaches realized they might have a first-round pick on their hands.)

If he’s a complementary piece then he’ll have to excel with duties that are both expected and nothing to be ashamed of, in a job that blends nicely with his subdued disposition. “I think Mikal’s development was shocking because he doesn’t have the personality of a guy that’s outwardly the most confident or swagged out, right? He just shows up and goes to work everyday. Works, puts his time in. Works, puts his time in,” Howard says. “Once Josh Hart left, Mikal just kind of said ‘OK, my turn’ and then took his game up another level.”

But the blueprint for something more is there. “I don’t know what ball player doesn’t want to have more responsibilities,” Bridges tells me. “As I get older and just keep working on my game, I’m just trying to be like Kawhi and Paul George. You know, they started off more catch-and-shoot, and then when they got bigger roles they’d start playmaking.”

That’s an exciting thought. Bridges snugly fits into the NBA’s present and future. He also may top out as a role player, which makes Phoenix’s decision to give up all they did for that type of service a bit divisive. But what’s done is done, and if they just added a decade of Wesley Matthews-esque service to their organization then that’s indisputably a very good thing. If they somehow landed a budding All-Star, all the better.

Either way, Bridges should check off multiple boxes. Whether he ends up being more than what’s currently advertised or exactly what most expect, the Suns may suddenly have the NBA’s premier young core because Bridges is the type of player who elevates teammates on both sides of the ball.

“You’ve just got to keep getting better and be that player they want you to be. Embrace that role,” Bridges says. “I’m just trying to be the best basketball player I can be.”

There’s More to Mikal Bridges Than Meets the Eye syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com