#me when i did an intense outpatient program

[y0urgrl]

triggered panic attacks should go crawl back into whatever hell that birthed them

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Hey, I'm a trans (FTM) adult who isn't in the financial/mental place to move out from my parents' home. I told my dad I want to start testosterone soon and he was supportive. My mom, on the other hand, is very transphobic and she's not on board whatsoever (she's also extremely stubborn and won't change her mind). Should I start hormones anyway because at least one of my parents is supportive? Or, should I wait until I can move out?

(Side-note: I know my mom wouldn't kick me out if I did start T.)

Lee says:

Your well-being is the most important thing. Your mental health matters more than appeasing your transphobic mom! If starting testosterone is a crucial step for your mental and emotional health, it’s essential to prioritize it. That doesn't necessarily mean you have to start ASAP, but it does means having a plan to start, even if that plan involves moving out.

Having the support of your father is useful-- let him know if you need him to be a buffer between you and your mother, and ask him to stand up for you if she crosses the line from "unsupportive" to "verbally abusive". If he's okay with you starting T, he can help you to present your case with your mother.

Maintaining open, honest, and respectful dialogue is the only thing you can do to try and help your mom understand your choices. Sometimes people surprise you and change-- even if it takes years to happen.

But even if your mom is stubborn and never understands, if you express your feelings, experiences, and needs clearly, and tried to listen to her concerns and fears and address them, at least you'll know that you did all that you can to try and reach out to her and you won't have any regrets about not having tried harder to salvage the relationship.

Sometimes, providing educational resources and answering questions can alleviate some concerns, so if she's willing, having her speak to another cisgender mom who is supportive of their young adult on testosterone can help, and you can try providing her with the meeting times for your local PFLAG chapter or other parent support group.

Remember, this is your journey, and it’s important to make decisions that align with your needs, values, and well-being. The things I may choose to prioritize may not make sense for your current situation. While I would personally lean towards the "fuck around and find out" type of approach to starting T without your mom's support since you are an adult and aren't concerned about losing your housing, that can also backfire if you're living in a place where you don't feel safe.

Even if you think that your mom wouldn’t kick you out, it’s essential to assess all the risks involved thoroughly, including the risk to you emotionally. You have to weigh the positive impact of starting T and feeling more comfortable in your body (which can help with depression) with the potential impact on your mental and emotional health due to possible increased tension or conflict at home (which can make depression worse).

While you're going through this, getting support from a mental health professional or counselor can be literally life-saving, especially if you already struggle with mental illness. A therapist who has a lot of experience with trans clients can provide guidance, support, and resources to help you and your family navigate this journey. They can also facilitate family discussions, and it can be helpful to have them "referee" tough conversations with your mom-- sometimes having a third party witness helps people to reign in their behavior so it don't get too out of hand.

If you're not in the mental place you need to be to move out, therapy (whether it's one-on-one meetings with an individual therapist or an intensive outpatient group program) might also help with getting the stability you need to be ready to live more independently.

Building a support network outside your family can also help give you an outlet when things are rough at home. Connecting with friends, support groups, or organizations that understand and support your journey can help you get through the tough times.

Everyone says "it gets better" for a reason, but sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. It can be hard to start medically transitioning because you might find changes don't happen as quickly as you had hoped, and there's often a point when you're more "visibly trans" but not yet passing 100% of the time which can make you feel even more self-conscious when it comes to things like using a gendered locker room at the local gym when you don't know whether people in either room might complain to the front desk about someone of the "Wrong" gender being in there.

Even though moving out isn’t an immediate option, it can help to think of developing a plan for eventual independence as part of your transition too. Working, saving money, exploring housing options, learning how to "Adult" and get health insurance, etc, are all things that can move you closer to your goal of transitioning, especially if you decide to wait to start T until after you've moved out.

It can really help to break things into tiny steps (like spending a certain amount of time per day job hunting or aiming to save up a target amount) remember that you not only have a goal but also a plan and a path to get there and achieve that goal.

Personally, I would probably chose to start T, but I'm not you. If you've been ruminating on this for a while and still can't decide what to do, making a simple pro/con T-chart can help sometimes. If that doesn't work, and you've talked it over with your dad to get his opinion, and asked your friends, and you're still not sure, then maybe it's time to consult a therapist again-- they can really help with the emotional side of this type of decision-making. But in the end, it's up to you.

Good luck!! I believe in you!!!

Followers, any advice for anon?

[modernhypocrite]

Hey y'all

Where have I been the last few months...? Read below. Now where have I been the last few years? No comment. :P TW: Eating Disorder Recovery

So, this last year I found out I had an eating disorder. I didn't mean to, but, I was dysregulated and ranting at my therapist and I said something that made us both stop, stare at each other, and we both had to sit for a moment before starting multiple sessions to discuss moving me toward a recovery program. So I did it.

I've been in a Partial Hospitalization Program for the last three months for BED. It's been... difficult, painful, stressful, exhausting, and totally worth it.

I felt super indignant in a lot of ways when I was suddenly put under some restrictions to circumvent ED behaviors I didn't even have- and some of it I still think is bullshit, but some of it I understand now that I'm on the other side of it.

I got moved from a normal track process group into a DBT group in the last of my three months there, because it was noted that my ability to process was being hindered by some emotional outbursting and lack of skills knowledge. And I got the fuckin' binder. The huge DBT binder of skills worksheets that I wanted within my first week of the program that they wouldn't give me!

All in all, this post is meant to just explain why I'm suddenly reposting a lot of DBT and CBT content. It's because now that I'm in Intensive Outpatient, I've been moved to a process group that focuses on more on ACT and CBT.

I'm even starting a discord server for, mostly my friends, but also potentially others who are seeking recovery support. With the knowledge in mind that none of us are professionals, none of us are fully recovered, and no romantic notions about EDs would be supported.

[symptoms-syndrome]

Hi! I’m curious to hear (in a vague way) what the process was like uncovering the DID if you’re comfortable answering. Like how long did it take? Did your therapist(s)/treatment team first consider other diagnoses? And anything else you feel comfortable sharing.

Hihi! This is sort of a hard question to answer for me, but I can try!

What constitutes my "treatment team" is sort of hard to define in this sense, because IDK if you mean "the ppl over the course of my life" or like "the one who wrote it on paper."

I've been seeing a therapist since I was 6 years old. I started going to outpatient programs like when I was in my early teens for Behavioral Problems. In those I was diagnosed with everything in the book so like. In that sense other diagnoses were considered? I think by the time I was 18 and kicked out of the house/able to see a professional of my own volition not connected to my parents/disciplinary programs, I was mostly labeled as BPD, PTSD, depression + anxiety, OCD, maybe NPD or ODD. I don't really give a single shit about any of those because I don't define myself by diagnoses anymore, or try not to, and my therapists as an adult told me it was majorly fucked that I was diagnosed with all that as a teenager. Most of them weren't even legit they were just labels to try and pin down why I was a Bad Kid. Spoiler for that, the answer was that generally teenagers act out when they're subject to intense trauma basically all the time and aren't listened to and are institutionalized. Tends to fuck your brain up real bad. I'm a lot better now not bc I got over the laundry list of diagnoses, but because I'm in like. A stable and supportive and independent environment.

I was officially diagnosed as an adult, exact ages escape me but probably like 19? It came as a surprise to me but fit like a glove re: my experiences with memory loss, not remembering where I am, meeting people who have met me before but I didn't remember, people telling me I did things I don't think I would, etc. It was really upsetting to hear because it's such a. Permanent and perception-of-life altering disorder. I was definitely hoping it was something that could be like. Cured more easily. It was also definitely hard to come to terms with the fact my childhood was That Bad, when I didn't really think it was before.

My therapist at the time said it was almost stupidly obvious that was what I had, even tho I wasn't like. Aware of it.

So like. How long did it take is hard to answer. Overall, if you count all the time I was being seen by psychiatric "professionals?" Over 10 years. If you count just that therapist? Like one year.

I'm a lil scatterbrained RN, so I might add more detail later or if u send another ask. I guess the question is so open and vague it's hard to answer without a full autobiography LMAO.

But I guess it would be useful to know why you wanna know. Then I could probably give a better answer. Are you considering the diagnosis for yourself? Are you trying to see if ur experience is shared w others? But also keep in mind I'm a weird little anti-psych dog who in general rejects the idea of seeking diagnosis for treatment. RN in therapy I mostly talk about my day to day struggles with whatever (like "damn, I've been really fixated on [specific trauma] this week" or "I made a friend" or "I'm really stressed about this argument I had" or "later this week im going on a date and i don't wanna fuck it up") and occasionally parts stuff comes up. Therapy hasn't majorly changed I don't think. Then again I'm real shit brain right now and my memory sucks ass. Maybe I can answer better later I just know if I didn't answer at all I'd forget.

[antiterf]

Deciding to Live

I joke to myself sometimes that I have the stereotypical transition story. The one where the only option was to transition or die. I was at the point where I was suicidal for the fifth year running, and I came out less than a year after I was released from an all day intensive outpatient. There were plenty of times where I should have been admitted into inpatient, but chose not to share that I should go.

I had an idea I was trans before I went to that intensive outpatient program, I gave hints while there but no one caught on. Hints such as “I want a penis” and “I don’t want my name,” but apparently that’s not something catchable. At least not in 2015. I was not sharing it outright because I did not want to believe it. It was something too rare to be me, something too tragic, something too different, too inhuman. The idea of getting gender affirming care excited me before making me feel sick with myself over being excited. I was at war with myself, and I don’t think I shared that with anyone. Sharing it would mean coming out as something I did not want to be.

Then the miracle happened, I came out. My parents were on the edge a bit, but both supported me when they saw my social transition and how it brought me back to life. My social transition managed to convince me that it was the right thing as well, and I got my first T shot in October 2018.

So yeah, tragic trans backstory.

…

If I let cis people define it

My story is used as a way to convince cis people that we have to let trans people exist because otherwise we will die. Being transgender in this scenario is still a tragedy. It’s still a fate that’s only a small step up from death. And while I had to use that logic to push through my internalized transphobia, I refuse to apply it to myself now. I do not want my life to be defined as a way that convinces cis people to merely tolerate my existence, I want my life to be about me.

Instead, this is about a trans kid that refused to die.

I was so close to death where only the fear of failure was holding me back. I had a moment where I stared down a gun for a full minute contemplating shooting myself, and I didn’t. I had so many moments where I decided that despite the fact that I had no future I could see for myself, I would not die that day.

I looked at the world I lived in, both one that held the GSA that let me know I was not alone and showed that trans kids could live, and the one where the same GSA let me know that those trans kids were not treated well. The one that did not let me know what transgender was until I found other trans people. The one that taught me my self-hatred and disgust.

In my evangelical town and in my house with a transphobic abuser, I came out. My mom did not know what transgender was and started to try and find out, while my dad did and wasn’t sure about it. This is not completely an underdog story, if my parents kept me from socially transitioning I may have not made it. I was already up against myself after all. What made this particularly hard still was that I could not wait until I could leave my home town, get away from the kids that knew me since kindergarten, I could not be strategic with my social transition because it was too deadly to wait. I had already taken a chance with my parents, I had to take a chance with my school, with everyone.

I stared down death. I stared down my hostile world. I chose to live. The transphobic shit I was put through got to me at times, I would sit there and cry about how I simply wanted to be “normal.” Other times I used it as fuel for spite. Spite against a world that wanted me dead. I would live because I knew that there were assholes that would be happier if I did not exist. I did not want them to win.

The real tragedy here is that I lived in a culture where something like this was possible. Where it is possible for a fourteen year old to wait until they almost died to finally even come out of the closet. One where they learned so much disdain. One that refused to show them that their life was possible. The tragedy is not the fact that I am trans, it is that I grew up in a world that would only accept that if I was close enough to death.

With no help from the people that would pass trans healthcare bans yet say they care for the safety of our children, I survived. With no help from those who don’t accept it, but don’t want them to die, I survived. I lived, and I did not live for my life to be about proving that I deserve to live. I lived for me.

I am not a transgender tragedy, I am someone who refused to be buried alive. Part of that was luck to get out in time, the other part the audacity to try.

Originally posted on my neocities page:

[yourlocal-goodgirl]

So I’m a guy, and I know that society treats me differently than it does women, but I have a pretty bad case of depression and body dysmorphia as well. To the point where once I lost all the weight, I then started abusing steroids. The type of steroids that I was using are notorious for exacerbating pre-existing mental health issues. I was the “fat kid” my whole life growing up and even when I was in my absolute best shape, all I saw was a fat fuck when I looked in the mirror.

It takes a massive amount of work to see through the filter that your brain puts over your eyes, but I swear to you that it’s possible. I’m still very picky with what shirts I wear because of how they fit. I still feel guilt about some of the foods I eat. Some days I will refuse to look at myself naked in the mirror. But most days I’m okay.

I’m so sorry that you struggle with social anxiety and seeing yourself in a positive light. But like the others have stated already, there’s definitely someone out there that finds you attractive.

If you’re interested, I’d be happy to come out of anonymous and discuss it more with you and show you pics of when I was struggling. Idk if it will help, but I felt I should at least offer.

thanks for sharing this. it's obvious that women are treated very poorly based on their weight, body shape, appearance, etc. but people don't often take into consideration the effect that media and body shaming have on men as well. men aren't allowed to talk about it either, they aren't allowed to talk about how they feel about their body or how it's impacting their mental health. it's seen as this horrible thing to ever comment on a woman's body, but comments are constantly made about men's bodies to their faces. body dysmorphia, especially muscle dysmorphia, is more common than you'd think in men but literally nobody talks about it. i swear i'm not being a pick-me lol, my degree is in psychology and i've just seen firsthand what BDD looks like in a man and how hard it can be to try to get help for. it sucks. no person, man or woman, should have to feel bad about themselves because of the way others treat them. you're strong and brave and i'm so glad you've gotten to a place where you feel okay most days! i've healed tremendously from my eating disorder after several years of intensive therapy and being put into an outpatient program for a few months. it was something i genuinely never thought i was going to be able to recover from, but i did. so i'm hoping and praying that the same might be able to happen to me someday with my body image issues. i don't have to love my body or feel confident, i just want to accept it and be okay with it. i don't want to feel disgust when i see myself or hate myself because of the way i look when that's such an insignificant part of who i am as a person. i want to get better, i just don't know how when society is so fucking mean to women like me. idk. that was a long rant i apologize.

you're more than welcome to shoot me a dm if you want to talk more about this. it's something i'm pretty open about so yeah, any time.

[clunelover]

Okay great, I get to do the intensive outpatient program (half days - mornings) for anxiety/OCD. Starting in a few weeks. I now get to figure out what exactly I say to my boss and when. I’ve done it before but it’s been a long time!

For any of you who didn’t follow me back when I did this - I had terrible PPA after C was born. All my usual anxiety shit was ratcheted up, and I had some new things that seemed to have sprung up due to the Las Vegas shooting happening during my maternity leave. It finally got bad enough that social worker BFF said I should consider treatment.

At the time I did PHP (partial hospitalization - ie full weekdays) and then stepped down to IOP. I think it lasted 10-12 weeks between the two.

The program included some amounts of CBT, DBT, mindfulness, and art therapy, with the bulk of the time being spent on ERP (exposure and response prevention). Just doing exposures to trigger anxiety and sitting with it until it reduces at least by half. This is why I say I don’t want to go back - that shit is HARD. But it really works. Those of us with this flavor of anxiety get in a thought trap where we think anxiety is unbearable and that it won’t go away unless we [insert unhealthy behavior or ritual/compulsion]. But in fact it will eventually go away on its own. I just need to retrain my muscles for tolerating discomfort.

For me, some of the specific exposures were:

- for fear of being wrong, tell someone an incorrect fact on purpose (my favorite was “Massachusetts wasn’t one of the original 13 colonies.”)

- for fear of people thinking I’m weird, face the “wrong” way in an elevator

(Most of these things were done with employees at the facility. Not just random people on the street or something. Oh although one of my things was to send a work email without checking it for typos).

Eventually I built up to something they called “interroceptives” which were activities meant to simulate physical feelings of panic, like spinning in a chair or trying to breathe through a cocktail straw.

Anyway, when I did it the first time, I remember it gave me so much freedom. So many things I’d thought impossible or too scary, I could do. But the disinclination to sit with discomfort can creep back in.

I think my current issues are different than last time I went in! Back then I was still working as a statistician, so I had very specific “I’ve forgotten everything I learned in grad school” thoughts. Now that I do a different type of job, I’m more secure (although less so again with new hard to read boss). My current issues are much more social in nature. I can’t bear talking to other Girl Scout moms. All my friends actually hate me. Etc.

And more agitation about things needing to be “just right.” Almost all household chores except laundry are too overwhelming to start. Anyway, I’m pumped to get it all sorted out! And I hope my favorite mental health specialist is still there although that’s unlikely cause I think it’s a high turnover job. But we shall see!

[sacrificethemtothesquid]

Ssp top hits - AO3 era

Tagged by the lovely and talented @thebyrchentwigges, who is a gorgeous human being I adore.

The preamble: So, wanted to get some hiatus rec lists going and encourage some self promo in my friends so how about sharing your top fics no matter how big or small - give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits/Most kudos/Most comments/Most bookmarks/Most words/Least words.

Sadly it has been AGES since I've touched fic, but this is a good opportunity to go poke through unfinished projects. (She says, fully aware of the unfinished novel burning a hole in her browser tabs...)

Most Hits/Most Kudos/Most Comments: The Length and Breadth of Fury Road. Mad Max: Fury Road, Max/Furiosa.

Max leaves, and Furiosa stays.

I posted the first chapter of this exactly two weeks after the movie came out when there were like six other fics in existence anywhere, so I was very very lucky to catch the new-fandom wave of interest. (Why did you wait two whole weeks, you might ask? Chop chop, time's a-wasting. I was too busy seeing the movie four times in the theater, but after that fourth screening, my poor husband was like, "...can we maybe see something else?") This fic defined my entire life for three years, introduced me to some of the most amazing people I've ever met, and my life has never been the same.

Most Words: The Moth. Horizon: Zero Dawn, Aloy/Erend.

Moths seek out light, he thinks, and die for it. Maybe they know, but they still can’t stay away. He feels like that, a slow, inexorable urge to set himself on fire in the wild blaze of her hair.

I would have bet money that L&B would make a complete sweep of this, but apparently Moth edges it out by almost 4k. I'm not as proud of this one, because I don't think it's written as well. It spanned the year I was in a protracted bipolar breakdown, including the period where I was in an intensive outpatient program, so while it did a good job keeping me afloat, when I go back and reread it, it's very obvious (to my eye) I wasn't at the top of my game. It was great fun though.

Least Words, overall: DAI Drabbles. Dragon Age Inquisition, gen.

Random drabbles of my headcanon. I reserve the right to move them to other works as they fit.

Technically, these are not drabbles (not exactly 100 words, but ah well) and they're not technically their own fic, just fragments of the larger DAI epic that I never quite got into. (You can thank Fury Road for that abrupt pivot.) I have a ton more DAI that I never uploaded, so maybe at some point I'll get bored one day and tackle that disappointing mess.

Least Words, completed fic: The Things Left Behind. Dragon Age Inquisition, Blackwall/Female Trevelyan.

“Thom Rainier?” she hears herself say, her voice calm and collected and very, very far away. “No. I didn’t know him at all.”

I never would have let my Inquisitor have anything other than a happy ending, but some itches just need to be scratched.

Now, for the tagging! I am so shit at picking people, because I know SO MANY excellent fic writers and I have no idea who has already seen this meme. So, at complete random: @silver-dream89 @aubade @theherocomplex @fuckyeahisawthat and anyone else who is even vaguely interested. Love you all!

[angelosearch]

A quick little meditation I wrote on why it is so painful to update my resume. I may delete this later because I might turn it into a larger personal essay piece.

It is 10:35 am and I am sitting in front of my laptop’s brutally large screen, fixating on the thin line the blinks on the document in front of me.

The document is my résumé, circa December 2021.

That was two years. That was one hospital stay, three intensive outpatient programs, and a two month stay in residential care ago. That was two jobs ago. The person reflected in this document represents an ideal self that I no longer aspire to embody: A girl, reeling from the reckoning of her CPTSD, hanging on the vestiges of a career that constantly reminded her of her flaws and insignificance.

And in that torrent of criticism and mistreatment, she felt at home. Her jobs became her family. If she could just be enough, then they would see her, then they would understand that she shouldn’t have to push herself to the brink of mania to earn their love. But even when they did try to claim she was talented, she twisted the words into lies and duties. This was the bare minimum. This is what she had to do. She was not worthy of real admiration.

Yet, she constantly kept trying to outrun one family to try to find one that would treat her differently, somehow without altering the contract of her contact. This document is a map of that attempt of escape, littered with sparkling phrases like “proficient in project management” and “developed effective marketing strategy.” Do any of these phrases truly fit what she has done? Is anything she has ever accomplished impressive in any way?

“Has anyone ever believed in you in your entire life?” One boss once asked her.

The question from the democratic ex-mayoral candidate turned marketing director caused her to spin out.

If they have, I’ve never recognized it—for all words in a language that you do not speak sound like gibberish the first time you hear them.

This man made her feel as though he believed in her, and she said as much on one autumn morning in the lobby of a hotel in Phoenix, Arizona where they had just pulled off a successful presentation as exhibitors at a conference.

But she required too much patience and too much medical leave when her illness reached its peak. He fired her on the phone while a messy medication transition left her unable to move for several days. He did so subtly that she had no idea she had lost her job, her purpose, until human resources called and explained how to return her computer.

That’s the last entry on the résumé.

I am changing this document to capture a version of myself who belongs in an Art Therapy graduate program. It reads like an obituary for a woman who knew nothing of setting boundaries or connecting with her inner child.

If she is not dead, I’d like to kill her.

But how can I shape this disparate smattering of “wear a lot of hats” skills into something that resembles the creativity, compassion, and emotional intelligence required of an Art Therapist?

Résumé and resume are such similar words in the English language that the modern spelling of the former word has dropped it’s accents to be more easily written online. To resume is to pick up after a pause—but I have always been told negative space in your work history is unacceptable.

But despite that, I am resuming. This isn’t even my first period of resume.

It’s funny how those gaps on your résumé are seen as something negative. I’ve learned more, and more valuable, things in the times between my jobs than I ever did in them. I cannot explain it in bullet points or with stop and end dates, but I do have experience with creativity and compassion and emotional intelligence. I’ve sat on a couch instead of an office chair and I’ve grabbed tissues instead of leaflets. I talked a woman, frightened and in chronic pain, through her first few days of residential care. I’ve been told my capacity for vulnerability makes space for others.

Can I list the applause I got from my peers as I left the treatment center as professional recognition?

No. We all must come to our places of work as unbroken things who swear their lives to the job. We get paid to lie about not just being there to be paid. The only true passion you must clock in for is the passion to stay alive.

I hope that the world of Art Therapy is different, but upfront I must pretend that I have an acceptable amount of trauma and valuable work experiences.  It’s makeup over a scar on my neck that looks like a hickey—an undeniable part of me too easily misunderstood to be revealed at the offset.

The true contents of what may make me good at my job may never be revealed to my colleagues, peers, or clients, and certainly will not be quantified on this document.

And so I move sections around on my resume like puzzle pieces and hope it matches the picture on the box.

[the-light-finds-its-way]

I'm... Not ok. Sis is being awful to me.

She wrote a note on the table, I didn't get out of bed, and she got mad I didn't see it.

Then she sent me a link to an intensive outpatient therapy program she attended, saying ONCE AGAIN that I follow her patterns, I do what she did at my age, etc. And that I shouldn't be with my therapist, I should change therapists. She's been telling me this for a year now. She also says our father isn't abusing me at all. She's a witness to his constant abuse.

Then!!! She fucking suicide baited me AGAIN!!! She guilted me by saying she's afraid she'll wake up one day and find me dead! I have given NO indication to her that I would do something like this!!!

The reason I isolate myself is to protect myself from our father's constant abuse. I don't come out because I don't feel safe or comfortable around him. And, sis also made the classic argument of I'm not eating right. Doesn't matter what I eat, to somebody, it isn't right. Ever. I could eat just vegetables forever, and someone is going to tell me to eat meat instead.

My therapist says what I'm doing is totally normal for what I'm going through. That I'm just trying to protect myself mentally and physically however possible.

And. I don't trust sis anymore. Because all she does is come home from work, and immediately get high, then spend the rest of the day and night high. She hasn't been sober for over a year now iirc while home. Hell, she kicked everyone out once when she wanted to have sex with her boyfriend, and guilted us not to tell our parents. She got high and did shit. As always. And to boot, I end up driving her around multiple times a week because she's always high and can't do it herself.

I'm. I'm so done. Don't fucking guilt me that way. And don't deny the truth. Sis, you're coping through stress by using drugs, all day every day, and saying shit that hurts everybody, and I cope by sleeping. Tell me which one causes more damage!!

[gravehags]

nosy anon: 15, 19, 30, 36, 43

15. Favorite movie

Vertigo directed by Alfred Hitchcock. The whole movie is a love letter to San Francisco/Northern California and it’s been my favorite movie ever since I was like 15. I was able to see it in an old theater on the big screen maybe a decade ago and that was really cool for me!

19. A fact about your personality

Hmm. I’m a pretty quiet person irl unlike when I’m on here and literally can’t shut up. I only really open up my full personality to people I really trust and love but also if you start talking about something I have a lot of passion for you will never heard the end of it from me.

30. What I hate most about work/school

For the job I worked for 7 years before I quit to go back to school? The tediousness. I did not give a shit about what I was doing, it wasn’t important to me, I had no motivation and it was so detrimental to my mental health I ended up up an intensive outpatient program 3 times over those 7 years and was almost hospitalized. For school? The constant expecting to always be on or have endless amounts of energy to put towards academics, personal life and struggles be damned. Also the fucking student loans.

36. Where I would like to live

I love it where I currently live but this country is a fucking hellscape. Idk I’d like to do some traveling around Scotland and Finland. Whether I could live in either place is hard to say because I’ve never been but who knows where this master’s degree will take me next.

43. Sexiest person that comes to mind immediately

Cumulus. Cardinal Copia. Father Paul from Midnight Mass.

[lesbianslovebts]

starting to think about looking for a new job in the very near future and my biggest fear rn is just. being in a new workplace, new people who have been there for so long already, just integrating myself into the place. leaving where I am now. and it's proper holding me back from even starting the job hunt. I know u recently got a new job if I'm not mistaken? did you have any worries like this or anything like that? advice maybe? 😭

Yes, I started a new job a month ago! Big huge response under the cut!

There were several factors that went into the decision. First, I hated my old job. It was a call center, and every single millisecond was monitored. I literally had to time my shits. They kept changing the metrics by which they measured our performance (making it harder to do "well" when, by old standards, I was doing "excellent"). They never approved same-day PTO. Each unapproved absence was a mark on your record that got you one step closer to being fired. An unapproved absence, even excused by a doctor's note, was still a mark on your record. I don't even know how that can be legal. They kept firing hardworking, established people and replacing them with new people overseas to take advantage of even worse labor laws and exchange rates. 🙃

The thing is, even though I'm autistic and have phone anxiety, I genuinely enjoyed helping people who've been victims of fraud. I was good at it, too. I was there for almost 5 years, but I knew I was considered expendable. Their policies were blatantly ableist, and I just couldn't take it anymore. Second, I wanted a job where I could go into the office. The old one changed to permanent work from home, and I kept having severe depression from being so isolated. Third, I wanted a job that would use my talents. I mean, I was good at taking phone calls, but I double-majored in math and Japanese, graduated summa cum laude, and was inducted in Phi Beta Kappa lol. And lastly, I wanted a job with opportunity for growth. (A career? 🤢)

So, the desire to get a new job started a couple years ago. But first, I had to buy my own car. I did that in February. Then the whole process of finding a new job began in April. I was in an intensive outpatient therapy program for 6 weeks. I filed a short-term disability claim and was out of work for that time. I worked on getting myself better, and got help from my peers, the therapists, the social workers, and my mom to brush up my resume and cover letter and start looking at jobs. I returned to work at the end of my disability claim with the hope that I wouldn't be there much longer.

I applied to a total of 3 different jobs, and it took several weeks to do one after the other. I would get too overwhelmed doing more than one at a time. I did the work myself, but my mom had to poke and prod me and be there as an emotional support. The first application was immediately rejected. I did a phone interview and an in-person interview for the second one and got rejected. Then my mom heard about a coworker from another department at her company retiring. They were having trouble finding a new person, so my mom told me to apply for that job. I had a phone interview and a videochat interview and got an offer after a week or so. It was a $9k bump in pay. 😳

Don't get me wrong, the change was incredibly stressful. I cried on my last day at the old job even though I had worked from home for the past 3 years and didn't have any strong relationships with my coworkers. I'm autistic, so change is extra difficult for me. And my shift went from 1 PM - 10 PM to 7:30 AM - 4 PM. That was rough. On top of that, I've developed chronic migraine (more than half of the days in a month) this year. I'm also immunocompromised and have IBS and sensory issues. So, I just have to work through the internalized shame of being disabled. I have a lot of work to do still. I had planned on telling my boss that I'm autistic the first day, but I still haven't mentioned it. It might be obvious based on the stuff I do and bring, though. I wear a mask and giant pink goggles. I bring earplugs, noise cancelling headphones, discreet stim toys, ibuprofen, rizatriptan, anti-nausea meds, Tums, Gas-X, Afrin, and hand sanitizer in my backpack. I've had a couple crying episodes worrying about the social aspect of talking to people and the job itself. But I know this will be a much better fit for me, and this is a company I could work at until I retire.

So, part of it was hard work, and the other part was luck that my mom also works at the company and heard about the position. In these times, I know 3 job applications is nothing, but it took all of my strength just to do those consecutively. My advice? Get an accountability buddy. Try to find someone who can help you break down the process into manageable chunks and make you do them at a reasonable pace, without judgment. Could be a friend, a parent, a sibling, a partner, an old teacher, whoever. As for the actual hunting on the Accursed Websites? You'll have to ask Google for help. That's what I did. 😭

P.S. (IMPORTANT!) With my experience in bank fraud, I've seen a lot of job scams. Take these tips to heart (if you're in America): 1.) Make sure the position on Indeed or wherever is ALSO on the official company website. If possible, apply on the official website. 2.) No company will ever give you a check to buy supplies for the job. A true company will order and ship the supplies to you. 3.) No company will ever prepay you for work you haven't done yet. 4.) No company will ever overpay you and ask you to send part of the money back via Zelle, CashApp, Venmo, PayPal, etc. 4.) No company will ever email you a check. 5.) If you're not familiar with checks and aren't sure if it's legit, call the bank listed on the check to see if it's legit or fraud. 6.) Any too-good-to-be-true work-from-home job is a 100% a scam. 7.) If you think only the elderly fall for scams like this, you're wrong. 18- to 25-year-olds are another big scam victim demographic, especially for scams involving checks or 3rd party payment processors (CashApp, Venmo, etc.). Banks can and will terminate your accounts if you accidentally commit bank fraud or money laundering. 😬

Best of luck!

[bugbutton]

so, i was going to start intensive outpatient tomorrow, but on friday afternoon they called me and told me they were recommending me for their partial hospitalization program. when i asked why, she said something like that she couldn't tell me or something (I wish I could remember exactly, but I was already panicking and dissociated by this time). i asked her if i say no to partial hospitalization, will they reject me for IOP, and she said "well, again, it's not accept or reject, but finding the best fit for you" which like, yeah those are pretty words and i get it but also it is still a rejection and you don't get to tell me it's not. anyway, her answer was something like "they'll call you about it hopefully by this evening" and so i waited.

at about 8:30pm, i decided to call them because i hadn't heard back. the person i spoke to was a different person, and hadn't been expecting me, and when I told her that I had been told that I would hear back, she told me that she didn't have any notes or memos about it (so I guess they just had not intended to call me back like they said they would). I asked her what the deal was, and she repeated what I had already been told— that I was being recommended for PHP over IOP. I expressed that I was frustrated and confused, because I wanted to at least know *why,* and she was like "they didn't tell you?" and I was like "no, she said she couldn't" and she was quiet for a moment and was like "that's not right" (I feel bad for her in hindsight, because it sucks when you have to clean up a mess your coworker made)

she told me the reasons why and they included some bullshit like "intermittent anger" and some other stuff which I regretted having shared with the clinician who did my intake, even though I know I shouldn't lie or cover anything up so that I can get the best treatment, I felt like I had given the "wrong" answers and that if only I had masked more, I would have been accepted.

then regarding my frustration with the sudden change, I said, "they offered to let me start today. what if I had shown up today? were they just going to be like, surprise you're in PHP? that's not okay!" and to my surprise and relief, she agreed with me. she explained to me more about the partial hospitalization program and I expressed some concerns I have with it, mainly that they provide food, but I'm worried that it won't be stuff I can eat. I think I told her to have them call me, and hopefully tomorrow they will, or I'll call them. I want to give this place a chance but if they don't impress me or I don't feel like they apologize/make it up to me sufficiently, I'm gonna find somewhere else.

it sucked though because I had been feeling hopeful about this place and it felt like my hope was stolen from right in my hands, y'know? but whatever. I'm managing. I'm still feeling more at ease just knowing that IOP or PHP is gonna be my next step. but this shit just sucks I wish shit would stop happening to me

[jerseyoklahomo]

Well, today was a great day, if I say so myself.

Started the day early with NO SLEEP! Literally laid in bed all night awake. So, at 7:00am after staying calm as my roommate kept receiving calls from his, what I can only believe to be, mail-order wife in the Philippines. She literally called every 30 minutes and his ringer was going off constantly as he lied to her about what he was doing for NO REASON!

Anyway....back to the story. I started the day with a nice little breakfast of eggs, cheese, sour cream, and spinach. MMM! I set off for the day to my new IOP (Intensive Outpatient) program. I decided to walk the nearly 2 mile trek to Bayonne, NJ. It was a nice morning, so I enjoyed the walk other than the shin splints nearly crippling me. I will walk this when needed, but there is a bus that goes nearby for me to utilize when needed.

I spent my time there doing a PSYCH EVAL! I must say it was one of the lesser invasive I have ever endured. I practiced for a while, and I passed the test. The urine test. Hehe! I start on Monday with my IOP program.

After that I set off to go job hunting and attend the lunch AA in my area. It was a good one. They even had snacks! For my budget, this is going to be a very great lunch option while also going to my daily meeting. I rode the light rail into downtown Jersey City.

To my delight, I received a nice email while I was on the light rail. An Area Director of Sales for a hotel management company reached out to me about an Area Sales Manager position that I applied for! She set up a phone interview at 3:00pm! I apparently did very well, but I didn't think I did. I was not prepared to interview so quickly. Plus, I usually am at least a bit buzzed when I interview. So, to gloat on myself sober is apparently a trigger. Hmmm...good to know!

Anyway, I have a second interview tomorrow via Google Video. Good vibes...

I spent most of my afternoon at the Hyatt Regency Jersey City. I sat in the perfect spot for some inspiration and motivations, but not so much that it was distracting. I feel at home in hotels, so I can usually concentrate much better. I was able to complete many more applications and assessments for jobs that I have applied to in the past couple of days. After that, I got the inkling to go into Manhattan for another AA. I met some awesome contacts, and possibly a sponsor or at least someone to point me in the right direction.

I spent my ride back enjoying the sights and sound of the city. I feel more at home than I have in my own skin in so many years, and I have no clue what is next. It's almost unsettling that it's not unsettling to me. Whatever will be will be.

I realized that there is a mall located within walking distance to my house. WOW! WTF?! I can usually sniff a mall out with my eyes closed and no map, but it looks like my senses are a changin'! Either way, that's my next stop tomorrow to look for WORK!

Check out my next post with a beautiful picture I took today.

[acadamien]

The Broken

Trigger Warning: Suicide, Depression, Anxiety, Hospitalization

I ended up walking myself into a hospital and admitting myself into the IOP (Intense Outpatient Program) for major depression disorder. It got so bad that I had a detailed plan. I realized I needed help when I put an Urn into my shopping cart on Amazon and I was looking up how I could pre-pay for a cremation.

I will be going for five weeks of intense outpatient therapy and I have been in it for a week now. So far it is helping.

What got me to this point?

My depression has already been an issue but over the years, Covid, my crumbling of my streaming hobby (lost like $500 on an avatar), the state of the world, the lack of basic kindness between people, the wars, our political choices, the state of my house, the state of my finances... why did I want to continue on when it kept slipping.

I need to find a new way through as my life is not working as it is right now.

[healing-with-bunnie]

Another horrible, yet wonderful year

It's December again, and I find myself reflecting on where I was at in January. it has been another incredibly complicated year with ups and downs just like the rest.

Exactly a year ago at the beginning of last December, I got out of the hospital again, It's seemingly routine for me for most holiday seasons to need a trip to the mental hospital. A few days after getting out of the hospital it was clear that moving in with my best friend and her partner was the best option for me. Living alone had been incredibly detrimental to my mental health.

Living with my best friend and being in a loving home environment for the first time in my life was quite literally life-changing to me. And I quit my job in fast food management as that was incredibly demanding in ways that were just simply too draining for me. in between that job and my next, I attended an IOP program (intensive outpatient program) essentially equating to 24 hours a week of therapy. which was very hard but in my time there I had made a new friend, and stabilized myself quite a bit. graduating IOP is one of my biggest accomplishments this year.

This year really challenged family dynamics, as due to quite a few different things I was forced to see both of my parents in a horrible new light, which has been incredibly depressing and freeing at the same time. As all i really ever wanted was to feel loved by a family.

While my own family was quite the sore subject, I got closer with my best friend, and her mother who have both been there for me for so long now, it's really been a transition from blood family to found family this year.

then by the beginning of spring, all hell broke loose, as if the ice and snow melting seemingly released some kind of pandora's box on me. Most of spring and summer was kind of a blur at this point.

As I had what I consider to be, the absolute worst month of my life, April 7th my great aunt died, a woman who had been a safe place for me for as long as I can remember. The only family member by whom I felt loved unconditionally, her home had been my safe place. somewhere nothing bad could ever happen. When life was too overwhelming I would escape to her house. Where she would let me eat whatever I wanted, and we would watch whatever I wanted and just talk. I was closer to her than I ever was to either of my parents. Losing her was equal parts devastating and also a relief.

She had been sick most of her life, and the last 3 years of her life were horrible. As awful as it sounds I wished she had died sooner, she was single-handedly the greatest woman I had ever met. She had been a nurse for most of her life, with a very strong attitude and sense of humor. Her birthday was November 11th, and after 2000 she would always use her birthday to remember those who had died in the tragedy. She was truly a selfless woman, being the safe haven for the children in my family who had less-than-stellar parents.

Her funeral was about a week or two later, the second funeral I had ever attended. It was so beautiful and perfect and she would have loved every single detail of it. We spent just as much time laughing as we did crying as she would have wanted. I got the honor of being the last person to speak at her funeral, with a letter I had written to her the day after she died. and I also got plenty of time alone with her urn as people were downstairs.

I got dumped by my boyfriend of 7 or 8 months a day or two later, and it's pretty safe to say I felt as though my life was a complete wreck. And I had just started my new job, and was constantly emotional, crying at the drop of a hat over everything. an overnight shift I had to cover at a hotel for about a month.

A little over a week into that job, my son almost died, and I felt as though I could never catch a break. but I continually used my overnight shift with all of that time alone to myself to journal, and just sit with myself and all the stuff I had just faced.

I'm no stranger to adversity or hardship though, and I just kept trucking through. It seems that the turning point of this year would be my 20th birthday, my son's father and I always made a point to see each other once a year. And I would text him pretty regularly, especially when my relationships would begin to fail and I would find myself single.

Admittedly, I am oblivious, and although my love for him never truly went away even though it had been 4 years since we had ended our relationship I never picked up on the fact that the feeling was entirely mutual.

So when a nasty storm had ruined my plans for my birthday, he drove two hours in torrential downpours to pick me up. two hours back to his mother's in which I would not stop talking the whole time. I wont go into detail of what happened when we got to his home, but I will say this when he kissed me every feeling I thought I had been able to get over finally came flooding back to me.

That kiss felt like it was the most right kiss in my entire life, like every other time anyone else had ever kissed me it always felt wrong and uncomfortable. and at one point he looked into my eyes and said that they were still so beautiful. I was still fighting my real feelings so I punched him in the chest and called him bro.

That afternoon changed the course of my life, as I was only supposed to be living with my best friend until October. though it was only I was struggling to find a place for myself one that I could bring my son to. (I would like to note that I am leaving out some other important details of what happened this year as that is a story for another day)

The next day my son's father started his apprenticeship, as he was finally home from all of his navy training. we would continue to see each other in secret, and talk non-stop. I finally broke down and explained some things to him about my life that I had been keeping secret from everyone. and He promised he would help me.

we officially started dating almost two weeks later at the beginning of August, and by the end of the month he had found an apartment for us then by October he and I began to set in motion something to fix those background details. Which again is a story for another day when I am actually able to tell it.

But as it stands now, here in December, looking back on the crazy rollercoaster that was my 2023, I am thankful, I started this year feeling completely defeated and alone but through the love and patience of my best friend and her partner, I was able to pull myself out of that dark spot enough to finally begin working on myself and growing. I was able to heal and grow enough to impress my son's father, show him how much I had truly changed since we broke up in 2019, and rekindle our relationship. Currently, our relationship is better than it has ever been.

And I am more hopeful than ever, that finally after 20 years I will be able to get free of the blood that has poisoned me for all of my life and build bonds that will free me.

While I know life won't be easy, finally for the first time in my life I know I will never face anything as hard as I have in the past. I will face more unexpected challenges, but now I have the strength to pull myself up and support that will catch me if I fall.