#my therapist is gonna have a field day sorting out this anxiety

[lighthouseshepard]

well gang. im having top surgery on october 7th, 2024.

[moowithmidnight]

Just finished the Ian Doyle storyline (+half of S7) and omfg it’s my favorite thing ever I think. So obsessed with Emily’s own stupid brand of self-sacrifice- I love her so much. She was so ready to cut ties with the team forever and she thought they’d literally be fine as if they wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth to find her. They got suspended because of her, they were going to be fired because of their love for her. Like I’m gonna be sick.

Anyways, some things we reallllly skipped over:

1. How long Emily must’ve been undercover if she gained Ian’s trust in a way he literally admits no one else has (told her about Declan)

Like it must’ve been a really long time, and the way Tsia is so confident that making her repeat “Lauren Reynolds is dead” will soothe some of her anxiety makes me thing that Reid’s assessment of the phrase as a mantra is 10000% accurate. It must’ve genuinely fucked with her for a while, especially bc she must’ve been kind of young still.

2. The fact that Ian branded her- oh my lord. Like I know it’s been 7 months from her perspective, but nothing?? Wild to me, I’m sorry- there’s no way in hell that wasn’t extremely traumatic, ESPECIALLY when she was in Paris. Knowing he was out there still, seeing that mark every single day, after he murdered her?? French therapists would’ve been having a field day. And Ik she has a huge ass scar on her stomach too, but being scarred and being branded are wildly different things. Scarring doesn’t imply ownership the way being branded does.

Although headcanon: after Ian died and Emily settled back into the team, her perspective on the clover slowly shifted into the same sort of “I won before you ever got out of North Korea” mentality. Like, “this is the only thing that will ever remind me of you, because you’re gone and I’m still here.”

3. The way that, when he found out she was gone, Reid so so earnestly asked “why wouldn’t she tell us? we’re family, we could help.” OH MY GODDD. Sick and twisted, the whole thing was so sick and twistedddd

4. She kept the ring- she kept the ring and they found it and not a single person asked her about that!!!!

[lichenaday]

i have a few questions about adhd in academia, please feel free to only answer them if want to

1. best mistake you made with adhd?

2. what kind of organizational systems do use to manage your adhd in academia?

3. what did you have to unlearn to succeed with adhd in academia?

4. what were some of the hardest things to accept about being adhd in academia?

5. with adhd, anxiety, and depression, how do you combat procrastination in academia?

thank you for your time and congrats on your success! 🥳

1. Best mistake you made with ADHD: Like the funniest? Almost certainly the time I picked up a venomous snake in the woods during field work, got bit, and had to go to the emergency room. I am now a cautionary tale within the department. I blame this on my ADHD, maybe it was just me being a straight-up dumbass, but I find that I tend to hyperfocus on something and don't have room in my brain to consider the consequences because SNAKE SNAKE SNAKE NEW SNAKE FRIEND GONNA CHECKOUT ITS BELLY SCALES FOR BETTER ID PURPOSES YES THIS IS A VERY GOOD IDEA. Best for me personally was impulsively signing up for my first lichenology class!

2. I have a therapist! I am lucky to live in Germany, where the very-low cost of my student health insurance covers the cost of talk therapy. Most universities have some sort of student counseling service. I saw an academic counselor for a few sessions and quite frankly, didn't find it helpful because yeah, I know how I am supposed to study, but I'm built different, and so I found my therapist with the help of the student union and she was essential to my success. USE THOSE STUDENT RESOURCES. 3. I have had to unlearn a lot. But perhaps the biggest thing I realized is I never really learned how to study? I always skated by on just like, being smart. And being really good at rote memorization. Being a good test taker, essentially. But now that I am at a level that is super challenging, and forces me to think theoretically, I actually have to study for exams. Like, a lot. And that means I need to start studying like, more than a day before the exam. So relearning how to study has been a nightmare, but ultimately really good for me? Probably? Ask me again in 10 years. RIP my GPA 4. A few I can think of: a) not everyone is going to *get* you. Academia selects for certain types of people. If you are different, you are gonna stand out, and some folks don't know how to deal with that. If you asked them individually, of course they would say that all perspectives are welcome in academia, but they probably have some internalized biases that they don't realize. And you gotta just accept that. You will find plenty of folks who do like you, and are willing to work with you even though you may work at a different pace, ask lots of questions, talk a lot, and need extra help from time to time. b) You might get shit grades. And you will see other people putting half the effort as you getting much better scores and it's gonna hurt. But academia is biased. The system is built to reward certain types of intelligence, and ADHD ain't generally one of those types. But you don't have to let that hold you back. You can actually get by being a good worker/writer/public speaker/passionate scientist, and the grades will only matter to the folks/institutions you are better off not working with anyway. c) You are good enough. And you deserve to be here. Even if things are harder for you, you are slower to learn, you struggle--science and academia needs you passion, your perspective, your desire to change the system. 5. Hahahahahah . . . I don't combat it so much as embrace it. It's just how I'm wired. And I may procrastinate, but I still get my shit done. Eventually. One of the best suggestions I got was "eat the frog first." If you have something you gotta do, set an alarm for an hour earlier than you have to wake up, and work on it right then, first thing, before you have anything else to distract yourself with. Reward yourself with your favorite hot beverage of choice. Or scheduling alternating tasks. Gotta do the dishes, gotta write a paper. Write until can't anymore, unload dishwasher, write until can't, rinse dishes, write until can't, load dishwasher, write . . . so on and so forth. I gotta do dishes because I am out of dishes, so I guess that means I gotta write, too.

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes: Chapter 3 Expectations and Exceptions

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

One week later

Claire’s heart was racing, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. She had no idea why she was so nervous; Faith was in a perfectly good mood, breakfast had gone off without a hitch, and she’d kept herself occupied while Claire unpacked a few more boxes. Things had been going well with Mrs. Lickett so far; she came by two days ago to meet Faith, and she hadn’t objected at all. So Claire had every reason to believe that she would respond just as well to her assigned therapist: Jamie.

When the receptionist, Toni, had said the name, Claire’s heart immediately warmed for some reason. She pictured a bubbly, blonde haired young woman that would say all the right things to her little Faith. Claire had seen her fair share of over-ambitious, boisterous young women working with special needs children, and they were quite hit or miss. They were either absolutely perfect, or they were just…too much.

The glowing reviews of this place had Claire believing that this Jamie would be the former. For maybe the millionth time, Claire threw a glance back at Faith through the rear view mirror, quietly humming and bouncing, shaking around the little plush horse Claire had gotten her. In order to prepare her, Claire had bought the toy and a ten pack of postcards with horses on them to put on the wall next to her bed. Usually, Sorcerer Mickey was the one she insisted on taking everywhere, but today, she seemed to connect the dots between the horse-related purchases her mother had bestowed upon her and Claire’s constant jabbering about the horses they were seeing today.

So, all in all, Claire had no reason to believe that anything would be amiss. Faith was well-prepared, and seemingly quite excited. But rationality could never erase the knots in her stomach when it came to introducing Faith to something and someone new. The receptionist had assured her that if Jamie didn’t work out for whatever reason, there were dozens of other qualified therapists eager and ready to step in.

God, she wanted this to work so badly.

Claire glanced through the rear view mirror again, smiling. “I have faith in you, darling.”

The fact that her daughter’s name had proven to be so fitting and applicable was something that frequently stunned Claire into silence. The very second the word autism had fallen on her ears at the specialist’s office, the panic had set in, but she’d never stopped believing in her. Frank obviously had. So many brainless people in the world had no faith in disabled children. But Claire had seen her daughter in her quiet moments, and in her more animated moments. There was something there, underneath the anxiety, underneath the ticks. Something she hoped the equine therapy could coax out of her. Hell, moving to the states in and of itself was an enormous leap of faith. But Claire’s faith did not seem to be misplaced, in either her daughter or her own decisions.

Faith uttered a rather loud hum and made a silly face at her reflection in the mirror, twisting her hands.

“You have faith in yourself, too.”

An eighteen minute drive under their belts, Claire pulled into the dirt and gravel parking lot, her heart already feeling lighter as she caught sight of horses grazing in fields past the cluster of buildings.

“Faithie, look,” Claire crooned as she unbuckled the car seat. She pulled her out and settled her on her hip. “See the horses?”

Faith hummed loudly in excitement, and Claire beamed.

“Are you excited to ride a horse, darling?” Claire let her slide off her hip and onto the ground, taking her hand. “Let’s go meet Miss Toni and Miss Jamie.”

One thing was for certain: Faith most definitely understood what was happening, and she was excited.

Her humming had reached its peak in pitch and volume; she was jumping practically a foot into the air, skipping through the parking lot. Claire had to hold tighter for fear she’d slip loose and bolt right up to the horses. Claire checked the time on her phone: 1:45 on the dot, fifteen minutes early for their scheduled time, as Toni had requested. They walked through the doors into the reception building, and Faith immediately started pulling back, reaching outside toward the horses.

“We’ll see the horses soon, lovie. We need to meet Miss Toni first. Come on.” She tugged firmly on Faith’s arm and walked toward the desk, passing two other mothers and their sons, one who was chattering endlessly, and the other, a boy with Down Syndrome who was quite docile, smiling contentedly. Claire made a point to smile and wave at both mothers and the kids.

“Well, hello! You must be Miss Beauchamp,” the woman Claire assumed to be Toni greeted warmly. She had a sweet, mousy face, and eyes the same shade of brown as her bobbed hair. Claire had informed the woman that legally, their names were still Randall, but she’d prefer if off-paper she be addressed by her maiden name.

“Oh, and this must be little Faith.” Toni stood up from her chair and peered over the desk. “Hello, Faith. I’m Miss Toni. I’ve heard so much about you.” Faith’s humming and bouncing momentarily stopped, anxious, no doubt, at the sight of a new face. “I love your little horse, Faith! Your big horse will love it, too. Does he have a name?” Her eyes briefly flicked up to Claire, knowing that Faith wouldn’t answer.

“No, I’ve just been calling it ‘horsie’,” Claire chuckled softly.

“Awesome, Horsie it is then.” Toni smiled warmly, retrieving a clipboard with a pen attached. “This is Faith’s file based on what we discussed over the phone, there’s just a few things you need to elaborate on, and then I’ll call Jamie in. Alright?”

“Right, thank you.” Claire deposited Faith into the chair next to her, silently praying she’d stay put and not run off the second she let go of her.

“Are you from England?”

Claire glanced up from the paperwork to see one of the mothers she’d sat near was looking at her. “Oh, um, yes, actually. Just moved here.”

“That’s great,” she said, smiling. Claire hadn’t realized before she started speaking how very young this woman must have been. She was so tiny and her voice was almost a squeak. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-three. “My parents are English. You can tell I have the accent if you listen closely.”

Claire chuckled. “Where in England?”

“Cambridge. My father taught at the university and we moved to the states so he could teach at Harvard. My husband and I moved to the Island because of the program. This is my Thomas.” The girl gestured to the babbling little boy, seemingly repeating the same couple of phrases over and over.

“Nice to meet you both. I’m Claire, and this is my little Faith.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m Mary. Should have said that, I suppose.” She smiled sheepishly. “Your daughter looks just like you.”

Claire smiled fondly. “Thank you.”

“Did you come all the way here from England for the program?”

“Sort of. It was definitely one of the reasons.” Claire flipped to the final page of paperwork. “I wanted--needed, really--to get out of England, and I’d just finished medical school and was looking for a hospital to start my residence. I’d heard great things about Stony Brook and this program, and Long Island seemed like a quiet enough place for us.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Not entirely yet, but that’s the goal.”

“Wow,” Mary breathed. “How do you manage? I can’t imagine pursuing a career with Thomas. I admire you so much.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Does your husband work, too?”

Claire felt her throat tighten slightly, and the pen froze on the page for just a moment. “We’re divorced, actually. He’s still in England.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. Really, Claire, I’m — ”

“It’s alright, Mary,” Claire assured her. The poor thing was stammering almost as incoherently as her son.

“I didn't mean to imply that mothers can’t have careers, or that single mothers couldn’t raise children, especially children like ours — ”

“Really, Mary. Relax. It’s okay.” Claire finished up the paperwork. “I’m not offended, I promise. It’s something I’m going to have to get used to discussing, I suppose.”

“Right.”

“Well, I’m off to hand this in. It was really nice meeting you, Mary. Bye, Thomas.” Claire waved at him.

“Thomas,” Mary chided. “Say goodbye.”

“BYE!”

Faith dropped her horse and clamped her hands over her ears, and Mary began stammering apologies again, and Claire waved her off.

“Inside voice, Thomas!” Mary scolded, but he simply cackled and returned to his contented babbling.

After coaxing Faith’s hands off her ears, they returned to the desk and handed Toni the clipboard.

“Perfect timing,” Toni said. “Jamie just came back in from his one o’clock.”

“Wonderful,” Claire beamed. Wait…his?

“Don’t be alarmed when you see him. He’s a gentle giant, I promise.” Toni winked.

“He…?”

And then there he was, a veritable giant indeed, entering from the door behind the reception desk. He had to be well over six feet tall, and his shoulders were the broadest she’d ever seen. Almost immediately after taking in the size of him, the first thing she noticed was the wild mop of red hair that he sported. It had to be the brightest red hair she’d ever seen in her life.

Jamie. Nickname for James. Not the feminine name.

“Hallo there, Miss. James Fraser. Great to meet ye.”

Claire had to blink back her shock at the sound of his voice, the roll of his “r”s, the peculiar lilt. Was that a Scottish accent?

He stretched out his hand and Claire took it. “Claire Beauchamp.”

He gave her hand a quick, firm shake before looking down and taking in the sight of Claire’s daughter. “Ah, this bonny wee lass must be Faith, then?”

“Uh…yes, here she is,” Claire stammered.

The apparently Scottish Giant walked around the counter and immediately stooped to his knees about four feet away from Faith.

“Hello there, Faith. I’m Jamie. I’m gonna teach ye to ride a horse.” Faith blinked at him silently, the hand that was not holding the horse jiggling. “And what’s this, then? Got yer own wee horsie, is it?” Faith clutched the horse a bit tighter, pressing it into her chest. “He’s braw. I think Pippi will quite like him. That’s yer horse’s name, Pippi.”

Something strange was happening to Claire’s heart as she watched him talk to her daughter. She surmised it was because no man had ever been so good with Faith in her entire life, the girl’s own father having miserably failed in that category. The good Samaritans at the airport had been kind and helpful, but none of them dared address Faith directly. Seeing this man, a total stranger, know exactly how to address her, exactly how far away to be, exactly how softly to speak; it was almost overwhelming.

“Would ye like to meet Pippi, Faith?” Jamie said gently.

Faith didn’t hum or move at all, just kept on jiggling her hand. Claire stooped down as well, kneeling next to Faith, whispering in her ear. “Hey, it’s alright, lovie. It’s time to see the horses now. Isn’t that exciting?” She hummed a little, eliciting a smile from Claire. “Ah see, I knew it. Let’s go then, hm?”

Claire stood up again, holding her hand, and nodded at Jamie. “I suppose we’re ready.”

Jamie stood to full height, once again catching her off guard at the sheer size of him. “Alright lasses, follow me.”

“Jamie!” came an excited voice from behind them.

They paused and turned around to see that the formerly quiet boy with Down Syndrome had called out to him.

“Connor! My man!” Jamie immediately approached him in long strides, crouching down and putting a hand up for a high-five, which the boy gave, prompting Jamie to recoil in contrived pain, shaking his hand.

“Ye get stronger every day, laddie! Ye’re gonna break my hand clean off someday!”

Connor giggled uncontrollably. If it was at all possible, Claire’s fondness for the man grew exponentially. Seeing how expertly he transitioned from gentle and cautious with Faith to playful and boisterous with Connor was amazing. It seemed he truly took the time to learn the intricacies of each of these kids’ needs.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a new friend to ride wi’ today.”

“We will ride horses next Tuesday,” Connor said, nodding his head curtly. “I ride with Miss Jessica today.”

“Aye, that’s right.” Jamie winked. “See ye next Tuesday, then. Good to see ye, Pam.”

The mother addressed him fondly as Jamie stood up and returned to Claire and Faith.

“Sorry ’bout that. Connor never lets me live it down if I dinna say hello when he sees me.” He flashed an endearing, crooked grin, deep blue eyes twinkling.

“No, it’s quite alright. I hope you’d pay the same mind to my child. And every child for that matter.”

“Aye. I do,” he assured her. Jamie took Faith’s file from Toni without even needing to look at her, walking backwards to lead them out the back door. “Now, Connor over there is quite the social butterfly. He likes to rotate therapists, ye ken. His mam thinks it’s good fer him, and we all agree. But wee Faith over here is a bit more shy, aye?”

“Yes,” Claire said, rubbing a soothing thumb over Faith’s knuckles. “Strangers are a bit of a struggle.”

Jamie pushed open the door with his shoulder. “Aye, well that’s alright. We have plenty of time to get to know each other. She won’t be rotating therapists, unless fer some reason we dinna get along. Which, of course, I willna take personally,” he assured Claire, seeing as she’d already opened her mouth to apologize for something that hadn’t even happened yet.

Claire smiled as she felt Faith’s buzzing excitement returning at being back outside. She must know the horses were not far off.

“I read through her file last night. Disney fan, is she?”

“Oh yes, enormously so.”

As usual, Faith’s head cocked upward at the sound of the word ‘Disney.’ 

“Well, then ye’ll quite like Pippi, I should think,” Jamie said to Faith, still walking backwards. “She’s a royal horse, ye ken. Only princes and princesses get to ride her.”

“Hear that, lovie?” Claire swung Faith’s hand. “A special princess-horse for Princess Faith.”

Faith hummed loudly and gave a little skip, her wrist twisting inward, still holding tightly to the stuffed horse. Claire chuckled softly, her soul alight to see her daughter’s excitement bursting at the seams. Claire lifted her gaze from Faith to smile at Jamie, grateful for his cleverness. She was taken aback, however, to see that Jamie was, to put it bluntly, staring at her. She blanched, heat creeping up her neck. It was only a split second before his senses returned and he shook his head, returning his attention to Faith.

She’d certainly caught it…but she pointedly chose to ignore it.

“Alright, lass. This is the stables.” Jamie gestured grandly to the closed barn doors behind him. “Now,” he said, crouching down, once more at eye-level with Faith. “Ye must be very, very calm inside, Faith. The stable is where the horses live, eat and sleep; it’s their home. Like your home with yer mam. Dinna let go of her hand, and be patient. Pippi is waiting fer ye.” Jamie smiled. “Will ye be calm, Faith? Thumbs up if ye’ll be calm and patient.” Jamie held a thumb up and waited patiently before Faith responded with her own thumbs up.

Bloody hell…why didn’t I think of that one?

“Very good. Alright then, here we go.” Jamie stood to full height again and unlatched the barn doors. They creaked open, and the already potent smell of hay and manure thickened around them. Still walking backwards (Bloody impressive), Jamie led them inside and, after only a few steps, Faith was simply beside herself with excitement. Her humming reached peak pitch, and she was bouncing, jumping and tugging.

“Calm, Faith,” Claire reminded gently. “Patient. Calm.”

It was not very effective.

The horses didn’t seem to mind, however, and neither did Jamie. Claire was almost certain he’d seen his fair share of hyperactive kids in this stable that did cause quite a ruckus, and Faith’s reaction paled in comparison. They stopped about halfway down the line of horses, right in front of a bright sorrel mare with a white strip down her nose and a beautiful white mane.

“This is Pippi,” Jamie said, putting a gentle hand on her muzzle.

Faith grunted, dropped her stuffed horse, and eagerly reached up with her now free hand, desperately trying to wrench her other hand free of Claire’s grip.

“Faith. Be patient,” Claire said again.

“Faith,” Jamie said gently, crouching down to her again. “Pippi willna say hello unless ye’re calm and patient, like we said.”

His words fell on deaf ears as Faith continued to reach up and tug. The little whines came next, and dread settled into Claire’s stomach. She was on the verge of a meltdown, here of all places, the place that was supposed to help. Claire’s mind began spiraling: she’d made the wrong decision again, she’d made everything worse…

“Faith, please — ”

“It’s alright,” Jamie cut her off and reached into one of the pockets of the vest that was draped lazily over his flannel, retrieving what appeared to be a yellow ball. He gingerly pressed it into Faith’s outstretched palm and closed her fingers around it, immediately retreating his hand after she was holding it. She carried on for a few more seconds before becoming engrossed in the ball, squishing it in her little hand until her knuckles went white.

A stress ball.

“There’s a good lass, now,” Jamie said softly. “Get all yer troubles out of that wee head and put them into the ball.”

Claire watched in awe as the groaning ceased and the humming returned. Faith pressed the ball into her cheek, her forehead, her chest, her stomach.

“See? All calm now,” Jamie said.

“Good girl, Faithie.” Claire gave her hand a light squeeze, her voice breathy with disbelief.

He is so good with her.

Jamie reached a hand up to take hold of Pippi’s bridle then clicked his tongue. Pippi’s head lowered.

“She’s ready to say hello now, Faith, because ye calmed down.”

The stress ball immediately fell out of her hand and she reached for Pippi again.

“Gentle. Watch me, Faith.” Jamie firmly grasped the bridle with one hand, but his other hand was stroking the white strip on Pippi’s head with the greatest tenderness Claire had ever seen a man muster. “Try it, Faith. Gentle.”

To Claire’s utter bewilderment, Faith did not slap her clumsy hand onto the horses head as she’d expected. She, in fact, did exactly as Jamie had shown her: stroking the horse’s forehead and muzzle with all the careful reverence of a mother with her newborn. Claire didn’t know that she was even capable of such restraint.

“That’s beautiful, Faith. Wonderful job, lass.” Jamie gradually drew his own hand away, allowing Faith to pet her by herself. “I think she likes ye, Faith. I think ye’ll be very good friends.”

Tears misted in Claire’s eyes. She didn’t know what she’d expected for today, but it hadn’t been this.

“Ye alright, Ma?”

It took Claire a moment to realize that Jamie was addressing her, and she quickly nodded, brushing away tears in embarrassment. “Yes, of course. I’m just…”

“Aye.” He nodded knowingly. “I ken. Ye wouldna be the first.”

She sniffed and offered a tiny smile.

Jamie spent the rest of their time together pointing to the parts of the horse, the bridle, and the saddle and telling Faith the different names. She was not expected to remember, of course, but with enough repetition some of it would stick eventually. He also went on to talk about all the things Pippi liked and didn’t like, certain rubs or touches, apples and sugar cubes. He also managed to, quite convincingly, reveal that Pippi’s favorite movie was Frozen, which, upon hearing, Claire had had to bite her tongue to stop a fit of giggles. Jamie expertly wove Faith’s own interests into his information about the horse, and it left her speechless. By the time he finished, Faith was hanging on his every word, her hand still absently trailing up and down Pippi’s snout.

Today was not a riding day; today was a “get to know the horse and the therapist” day. Which, as far as Claire could tell, had gone off quite swimmingly. Claire had been dreading having to leave the horse, fearing a meltdown following removing Faith from her horse. But Jamie took his time with it, made sure she felt like she had properly said goodbye.

“I’ll teach ye how Pippi likes to say goodbye.” He reached into his other vest pocket and retrieved a sugar cube. He held it under her mouth and her  floppy lips snatched it up, eliciting a squeal from Faith. She immediately attempted to plunge her hand into Jamie’s pocket to get a sugar cube to feed her herself. Jamie was faster, though, dipping his hand in and retrieving a cube on his own. While her wee attempt at pick-pocketing was no serious offense, he still had to maintain that it was his pocket to retrieve things from.

Faith held the cube under Pippi’s mouth like Jamie had, and she shrieked as the lips protruded again, snatching it from her little palm. Claire laughed; she knew the difference between a good shriek and a bad shriek.

“Alright. After she’s had her sugar cube, ye pat her on the muzzle, like so.” Jamie demonstrated, and Faith immediately repeated. “Then,” Jamie released his grip on the bridle and clicked his tongue again, causing Pippi to return her head to its upright position. “We say ‘bye-bye, Pippi’.”

Jamie waved his hand up at Pippi, and Claire once again had to bite her tongue. There was something so endearing about seeing this giant, painfully masculine man say something as silly as “bye-bye, Pippi.”

Faith gave her own little wave, and Claire did as well, saying, “Bye-bye, Pippi,” on both of their behalf.

Jamie reached for the ground to retrieve the stuffed horse, which Claire made a mental note to vacuum and spray with Lysol when they got home.

“Dinna want to forget yer own wee horsie,” he said, holding it out to Faith, who took it in her hand and pressed it to her chest. Jamie picked up something else and then stood up and stretched his hand out to Claire. “Put this in yer pocket. Might come in handy.”

The stress ball.

“Oh, are you sure? Don’t you need it?”

“We each give out a dozen a week.” He shrugged. “They’re meant to be kept. Go ahead.”

Claire gratefully took the little ball into her hand, their fingertips brushing for the briefest of moments.

“Thank you.”

Jamie nodded curtly and then started to walk past them. As Claire tugged on Faith’s hand, she braced herself for a protest, for her to dig her heels in and reach back toward Pippi, but no such things happened. Faith simply followed, humming and skipping. She wasn’t upset to be leaving, wasn’t insisting on staying. She was simply…happy. Happy that she’d gotten to be there at all in the first place.

Claire almost started crying again.

They arrived back into the small welcome center, Jamie leading the way, of course, walking backwards, so he could freely converse with both Claire and Faith as he led them back.

“Princess Faith is back!” Toni said warmly as the three of them came through the back door. “Did you like Pippi, Faith?” Faith gave a little bounce, humming increasing in volume. “I take that as a yes.” Toni looked up at Claire.

“Yes, she was quite taken with her,” Claire confirmed.

“That’s great.” Toni wrote something down. “So Pippi is a good fit. How about Jamie? Did they seem to be a good fit?”

Claire glanced down at Faith, the sight of her smile taking her breath away. Then her eyes trailed back up to Jamie, and she was puzzled by what she saw. He looked almost…nervous. Was he really so worried after how well things had gone?

“What do you think, Faith?” Claire said, crouching down to her eye-level. “I know you like Pippi, right? Thumbs-up for Pippi?” Claire put a thumb up, and Faith smiled and repeated after her. “What about Mister Jamie? Does he get a thumbs up too? Mister Jamie?” Claire deliberately did not demonstrate this time, wanting to see if Faith would organically give the gesture herself. After a moment, Faith raised her right thumb again, and Claire’s grin became impossibly wide.

“Well, there ya have it!” Toni beamed. “You’re all gonna make a great team, that’s for sure.”

Claire stood up again and flashed her smile at Jamie, unable to contain herself. He had Faith’s approval now, something that was not given lightly, and this fact made her feel impossibly more connected to him than she should have felt. He, too, was beaming. His eyes seemed even brighter than they had before.

“Okay, so we’ll see you next week then? Same day and time?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. Though the week after it’ll have to be later since I start working.”

“That’s fine, we’ll talk about it next week.” Toni scribbled down the information and then smiled up at her. “Alright! You’re all set!”

“Oh, wait,” Jamie said quickly. “Almost forgot. Wait here.” 

Claire watched, bewildered, as Jamie scrambled out the back door again. It didn’t take long for him to return, however, holding a little black riding helmet.

“Sorry to hold ye up. Just figured ye should take this wi’ ye, to get her used to it.” Jamie held out the helmet to Claire.

She took it, her brows furrowed in confused wonderment.

“Chin strap, ye ken. Gonna bother her. And she canna ride wi’out it. Stable rules.”

Claire looked back up at him, something unnamable bubbling in her chest. “I didn’t even think…How did you know…?”

“Saw the wee bracelet on her belt loop,” Jamie said bashfully, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his vest.

Claire looked down and chuckled softly. It was a rubbery-plastic princess bracelet with snaps that she’d given Faith with the intention of getting her used to having things on her wrist, which had, of course, not gone over well. Immediately upon trying to get it on her, Faith had ripped it out of her hands and threaded it around a belt loop, then waited expectantly for her mother to snap it shut. Evidently, Claire had left it fastened and washed the pants that way without noticing.

“Well…thank you,” Claire said warmly. “I really appreciate this. You very well may have just saved us from the meltdown of the century next week.”

He chuckled and shrugged his enormous shoulders. “Think nothin’ of it, Sassenach.”

Claire blinked back her shock. “What?”

“Sassenach. It’s...ah, well, just means that ye’re English,” he said sheepishly.

“I know what it means,” Claire said. “Just a rather archaic term, isn’t it?”

He shrugged again. “No’ fer a Scot.”

Slightly frazzled for reasons she could not explain, Claire took hold of Faith’s hand and smiled warmly. “Well, we should be off, then. Good day, Mister Fraser, Toni. We’ll see you next week.”

“See ya, Miss Beauchamp! Bye-bye, Faith!” Toni waved.

“Wave goodbye, darling,” Claire said gently, and Faith waved her stuffed-horse-holding-hand.

“So long, wee Faith,” Jamie said, waving.

“Say goodbye to Mister Jamie.”

Faith waved the horse again as Claire pulled her toward the door. Pausing before opening it, Claire instead turned and offered her own little wave to Jamie before tugging on the door and leading a skipping Faith through the parking lot.

——

Holy Mother of God.

“What was that all about?” Toni said abruptly, yanking him from his thoughts.

“What’s that?”

“The helmet! We’re not supposed to give out equipment to take home like that. It’s not my place to undermine you in front of clients, but still.”

“Oh, I dinna think anyone will miss one wee helmet fer one week, Toni.” Jamie leaned his elbow on the counter, keeping his hands in his pockets. The waiting area was empty now. All the kids were riding, and Jamie’s three o’clock had yet to arrive.

“What’s next? We give trial equipment out to every kid with sensory issues? There’d be no helmets left if we did that! What makes her the exception?” Toni cocked an eyebrow at him.

“She’s special, is all.”

“They’re all special, Jamie. That’s why we do this.” Toni wasn’t buying it. “Is the kid special…? Or…her mom?”

Jamie’s every muscle tightened up. “What? The bairn, Faith, o’ course.”

“Oh. My. God!” Tony exclaimed, swatting his arm. “You have a thing for a kid’s mom!”

“Would ye keep yer voice down? D’ye want me fired?”

“So I’m wrong, then?”

“Aye. Very wrong.”

“So you don’t think she’s hot?”

“Christ, Toni, would ye shut yer gab?” He slammed a hand on the counter in panic. “Evan and his mam could walk in here any damn minute — ”

“Well do you?”

“What?”

“Think she’s hot?”

“Oh, fer — ” He sighed, exasperated, and ran a hand down his face. “She’s bonny, alright? She’s just fine.”

“Bonny…fine he says…” Toni rolled her eyes and began shuffling through papers on the desk.

“Sounds to me like ye’re the one that should be after her.”

“I have a girlfriend, James,” Toni quipped, pointedly using his full name. “You’re the one that hasn’t touched a woman in a million years.”

It was Jamie’s turn to roll his eyes, though he couldn’t suppress his smile at the woman’s cheekiness. “That’s verra kind, diggin’ at a man like that.”

“You’re just too romantic for your own good, Scotty.” She stapled a few papers together. “‘Waiting for the right one’ you always say…what exactly are you waiting for?”

For her.

Jamie shook his head. “I dinna ken, Toni. And I certainly dinna need to discuss it wi’ you.”

She threw up her hands in surrender. “Fine. Just trying to warn you. First helmet-leasing, then chasing after moms?” Toni clicked her tongue. “Best be careful, James.”

He rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the counter before standing up straight again. “Come get me when Evan arrives, would ye? I’ll be in the stable.”

“Sounds good.”

Hands back in his pockets, Jamie shouldered the door open and was grateful to inhale the fresh air, to clear his head.

Jesus…I’m in trouble.

It hadn’t hit him right away; it wasn’t like in the fairy tales, like some bolt of lightning that struck him from the heavens. She was bonny; anyone with eyes could see that, including himself upon first noticing her, but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t even that first touch, the standard, introductory handshake he gave every parent that came through. There were no sparks of electricity upon first contact--a thoroughly ridiculous notion.

No…it was seeing the way she swung that little girl’s hand, the way she smiled at her like she was the earth, the moon, and the stars. He could tell in one glance how much Faith meant to Claire, and even how much Claire meant to Faith.

That was when something had tightened in his chest, when he’d watched mother and daughter exchange that look. And, like a damned fool, he’d been caught staring at her.

But, he could easily brush that off. Sometimes there were just kids that were extra special for some reason, or a parent-child connection that was particularly touching. It was not at all uncommon in this chosen profession to get attached to kids.

But then…Christ…the sight of those tears in her eyes tore his guts out.

He hadn’t lied to her when he’d told her she was not the first parent to cry upon seeing their child with their horse. What he’d failed to mention was that most parents didn’t get that overcome until the child was actually on the horse.

There was something so deep and visceral about those tears. It was like watching relief spilling out after years of pent up fear and doubt. But there was something else, something darker. Something that made him feel the impulse to drop the reins and gather her in his arms and comfort her. Her, this complete stranger whose pain touched him so deeply.

But why…?

He’d seen Faith’s file, of course, the surname “Randall” all over it. Then Toni had told him in a hushed tone that they were to refer to the mom, this Claire, as Beauchamp, and not Randall. It had puzzled him, but it didn’t take long for him to surmise that perhaps there was a messy divorce. Toni had also mentioned that she was new to the area, but she hadn’t mentioned how new and from England, of all places. How messy had the assumed divorce been that she’d crossed an entire ocean with an autistic child, starting over in a completely new world?

Christ, she’s a brave wee thing.

And then his pity, his painfully-felt sympathy for her at the sight of those tears, melted into something akin to deep admiration. Indeed, she hurt, but she was strong for Faith despite that hurt. She sought out therapies, she smiled, called her “princess.” He knew all too well the level of strength that was needed to keep a child like Faith afloat, and he knew how difficult it could be to muster that strength in the face of other hardship.

Yes…he admired her. Claire.

And it didn’t at all help matters that she was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Those wisps of hair curled around her face and those eyes, like whisky and honey and amber all at once, both features mirrored in the little carbon-copy that was her daughter…and Christ, that smile, her bonny laugh, and then that wee wave she gave him right before she left…

Lord ha’ mercy…I am in deep, deep shite.

[innittowinit]

Abandoned amusement parks are the best place for young children (Chapter 18)

Fic summary:

Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and Phil have been hanging out at the abandoned amusement park in the woods since they moved in. Techno likes knowing he's definitely alone with his brothers Tommy likes climbing on the old rides Wilbur likes having a place to play his music Phil likes spending time with his younger brothers

That is, until a group of brothers calling themselves the 'dream team' move in down the road. Will the sleepy boys give in and share the park or will they succeed in scaring the new kids off?

Chapter summary:  

Wilbur and Techno go to school, eat lunch, and go to class B)

Chapter word count: 2209

AO3

School lunches were…..well they were school lunches. No matter how many people they painstakingly explained why they were the way they were to, there were always people that just never seemed to get it. That was fine, neither Wil nor Techno had ever asked for understanding, having learnt far too early that that was a big ask, instead they would gladly settle for respect. All they had ever really asked for was basic respect, all they wanted was for people to accept that they were going to stay together and that, no, Techno was not going to talk to them just because they gave him notes from class one time or helped clean his desk.

Teenage boys didn’t really seem to grasp the concept of respect. When they saw something they didn’t understand their reaction was to mock it, to make whoever was doing it so humiliated and ashamed that they wouldn’t dare make them confused ever again. Again, Techno and Wilbur both had a lot of experience with this, they knew what bullying was like and what was happening right now didn’t feel the same as the kids that had hurled insults at them in primary school. Nothing was physical anymore but it still hurt when they walked past the ‘popular’ group and they could hear the muffled conversations being had about them.

Wil had always been much more of a people person than Techno had, maybe that’s why it bothered him so much more that the fact that they were close seemed to confuse everyone else so much, Techno could tell that Wil desperately craved for a group of friends their own age that understood them and didn’t question it. Unfortunately, people like that were hard to come by.

They had Niki and they had Eret, that’s all they needed.

“It’s a nice place to chill out” Eret hummed as they led the twins out towards the school field, all three boys holding their lunches in their hands as Eret had said that today was a nice day and they’d be having a picnic outside instead. Technically, year 9’s weren’t allowed on the field at lunch anymore, at least not since Quackity (as he had been nicknamed around the school) stole a duck from the lake that bordered it. It was lucky that all three of them were pretty tall for their age, meaning they blended in well with the year 10’s that were playing football on the main section of the field, with the added bonus that nobody in that year really knew them so that meant no harassment.

Eret had led the twins to the very back end of the field, all the way to the rocky border of where the lake began, only stopping when he reached an old oak tree that’s trunk was considerably wider than any of the boy’s torso’s, taking his seat on top of his coat against the tree’s bark.

“What’s up with you guys today? if you don’t mind me asking, if it’s personal or anything that’s fine,you’re just not normally this….touchy? With each other. I probably worded that bad but you understand what I mean right?”

Wilbur nodded and then glanced to Techno for permission to tell the story, who simply shrugged in response. Both boys took their seats next to the tree and began unwrapping their lunches as Wilbur sorted out the events in his head, everything had happened so so fast and in slow motion, seemingly simultaneously, giving it a hazy and confusing feeling to try and look back on. He supposed that’s just how panic attacks felt in hindsight though, the adrenaline would make things feel fast and stressful of course, while the long reality gave it a much slower feeling than what was true.

“Techno got stuck in a shed yesterday” Blunt. It was easier to simplify it, Wilbur realised.

“Huh? How’d that happen?”

“I got in a fight with these boys who live near us, Techno got overwhelmed and left, the door got stuck and I freaked out. I dunno I didn’t realise i was being more touchy than normal but if i am it’ll probably be because I’m still a little bit shaken up I guess”

The fact that it had been brought attention to made everything seem a lot more obvious, suddenly he felt far more self conscious about having held Techno’s hand all day, about how he skipped music in favour of sitting with his brother in French, hell, even about how he had shifted himself when they sat down so that even when they were eating their knees were still touching. He hadn’t wanted to admit it but all the thoughts of whether or not he was ever going to see Techno again had culminated into a big ball in his stomach that seemed to grow whenever Techno stopped touching him. The reassurance that everything was okay was so so important to him and even if it was embarrassing to realise that he had been clinging onto his twin the whole day, he had known Techno long enough to know that if the touch was getting to be too much, he’d let him know, otherwise he’d just let him burn out all the anxiety until he was sufficiently reassured that nobody was planning on abandoning him.

After what had happened yesterday, Phil had called up their therapist and booked an ‘emergency session’ (Wilbur didn’t think it was an emergency but appreciated it nonetheless) so they could have a professional help work through what had happened. As much as he’d like to provide everything his brothers could ever need all by himself, he was mature enough to realise that some things couldn’t be handled by a 16 year old boy, he loved his brothers to bits and that’s exactly why he wanted them to have every chance needed to get better; the idea of them having to wait multiple days until their usual appointment made him feel a bit sick, they’d gone through something incredibly scary and they deserved to feel at least a little better before then. Said appointment was scheduled to be directly after school today so he wasn’t too stressed about clinging onto Techno for a long time anyway.

“Oh i didn’t realise it was something like that, sorry for bringing it up” Eret sighed, clearly a little guilty after having seen Wilbur try to decide whether he wanted to let go of Techno and be scared or stay and be clingy. He seemed thankful that the decision had ended up being to stay ‘clingy’, he wasn’t sure how he’d deal with it if he put Wilbur through all of that again just from a poorly worded comment.

Techno shook his head, glancing about a bit before deciding that nobody was paying them any mind. “You’re fine.” He muttered, patting his hand on Eret’s shoulder and tearing off a corner of his sandwich, popping it in his mouth afterwards, chewing a bit before talking again. “It’s not the first time it’s happened. Wil’s gonna be fine”

With a little nod, Eret visibly relaxed, of course it made sense to trust Techno on this topic far more than his own instincts, he’d known Wilbur far far longer and they did everything together. The confirmation that whatever damage wasn’t permanent seemed to provide some kind of comfort to him.

There it was again, Techno thought, that immediate acceptance. No questioning. No badgering. Nothing. He knew well enough that there were aspects that Eret didn’t fully understand since he hadn’t lived their life but the fact that he never once tried to press them to talk more than what they were comfortable with, or ask exceedingly personal questions like some people did, it just made Techno, at least if not Wilbur too, feel very seen and heard.

Many times in the past they’d been ‘friends’ with people who were really just using them as some kind of badge or token like- ‘oh look at me! I’m so nice I managed to get the weird kids to talk to me’. It always made Techno sick to his stomach when he realised someone he had trusted would betray them like that, to simply use them and nothing else. Techno was sure that Eret was not like this, he was real and down to earth and good, everything about him screamed trustworthy. At least now they had a good, real friend, who both of them were incredibly thankful for.

“Oh shit” There was a beeping noise coming from Eret’s phone, causing him to chance at the screen and groan “I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you later i guess if we have any classes together”

With that, she packed up her things into little ziplock bags so they wouldn’t spill in her bag and closed everything up, backpack swung onto her shoulders before she waved and jogged back to the main school.

---

School was pretty uneventful the rest of the day, after lunch they had had science (or Techno had science and Wilbur refused to go to his own classroom) and Techno’s violin lesson.

“I’m not going anywhere y’know?” Techno sighed as they waited in the empty corridor for his teacher to show up, Wilbur latched onto him like a lost puppy.

“I know but every time you go behind a door or anything my head gets so loud and it feels like you’re gonna get stuck again. I don’t wanna annoy you, it’s just hard”

Techno sighed and pat Wilbur on the head, he wasn’t really up for a long conversation right now considering that even though the corridor was empty, it could quickly become not empty.

“You don’t annoy me, Wilbs”

In all honesty that was only half true, of course he would never have any strong feelings of anger and annoyance at his brother when he was only doing what was necessary to feel safe but when he was being grabbed and prodded at all the time, there was admittedly a part of him that wished they’d been brought up normally. In any case, any anger that came from Wilbur getting clingy at times was never directed at Wil himself, instead it was more so towards their parents for causing the damage in the first place.

“I’ve got both today? Oh that’s just great, go on in boys!”

Techno was brought out of his mind by his violin teacher walking up, a kind smile on her face as she greeted them. She had been one of the few people who accepted them for them from day one, of course at first she’d been a little hesitant considering she was only being paid to teach one boy but once Wilbur explained that he didn't even own a violin and he was just there because they did not split up she seemed to be fine with Wil sitting in during the lessons. Plus, it was a lot easier having someone who could translate Techno’s little shrugs and grunts.

Taking his violin out of the case, Techno situated himself in front of the music stand, flipping his folder to the piece they had been working on recently, Wilbur pulling up a chair and holding onto one of his belt loops, not wanting to grab his arm or anything big like that right now since playing the violin kind of needed your arms.

“Are we carrying on from last lesson? Getting lots of practice in at home, I hope!”

Techno nodded to both questions, he hadn’t really practiced as hard as usual but the week had been eventful so that was fine.

“Okay then, can I check if you’re tuned up? and then we’ll get started”

Leaning against the wall shortly afterwards, Techno handed the woman his violin, giving Wilbur a sympathetic smile when he saw the boy staring off into space. Surely he had places he would rather be than listening to Techno play his music, he didn’t even play the kind of music Wilbur liked! God. Times like this reminded him why he shouldn’t give up, it reminded him that getting help wasn’t going to ‘break’ the special bond they had, instead it would only strengthen it since they’d both have the freedom to do what they like.

“There we go!” “..Thanks”

The rest of the lesson was best described as peaceful, as different as Techno’s Classical violin concerto’s were to Wilbur’s indie guitar songs, he really did love listening to him place. There was a certain calmness that resonated whenever he did so, a wave of serenity that only painted his face whenever he was completely engrossed in a piece. The music was always things Wil would never go out of his way to listen to and if it wasn’t his brother playing he was sure he wouldn’t have such a strong connection to the music but right here, right now, listening to the careful notes was almost like a compulsion, beckoning him to stare at the dancing bow that was being pulled against the strings in a complete virtuosic pattern.

And so, as the beautiful music decorated the air, Wil decided that everything was okay, no matter how messed up they were, everything was going to be okay.

[mentalhealthcats]

Hey, I'm just here to vent, sorry. I'm in a bit of a tough spot right now, my mother said I could get a therapist, months later, she still hasn't, and I go to the doctor for the first time in 2 years, because she never schedules and my father is useless, my doctor said I needed a therapist. It has been another month, It's getting worse, and I feel so horrible, but I can't remind her because she'll snap, she does whenever you remind her of things she's taking forever to do. To top it all off, I got lead poisoning (which was on purpose) I found out there was chipping lead paint on my windowsill, so I ate a ton of it when I felt sad as a sort of coping mechanism, that or a plea for attention, but what good did that do me? The second my parents finished telling me about how I had lead poisoning, they moved on to talking about my sister, and how she needs to get tested, and how she's the one to be concerned about, and I care about my sister, but that hurt. Everything's been about her ever since she tried to kill herself. That was hell. I want to cut myself again. My sister found out I used to cut myself, and started checking my forearms every day, and took away all my sharp objects, but she stopped checking, and she no longer cares when I take scissors to my room. My parents knew, they didn't care, didn't say a word to me. I told them I thought it was lead paint. I told them, I knew it all along, and they brushed me off like a bug. My father will admit to that, he said sorry, I accepted it on the outside only. My mother has not appologized, she laughs it off like she laughed when I told her I had been sexually assalted when I was in 3rd grade. I am tired, tired of listening to my sister cry to her SO every night over Discord, of opening the door and eaves dropping because I can't stop myself, I'm tired of lying, and how easily people will buy outrageous cover stories. My sister actuallu bought "I hit my arm on the cactus next to my bed" as an explenation for clean, clearly self inflicted slits on my arm. I am tired of fearing a name because of the girl that had that name who got mad at me when I got the school councelor involved when she told me about her abusive father, and showed me her self abuse scars on the bus home from school, after she got mad at me the day before the big field trip, and sent me a string of enraged texts that hit the nail on the head for what I was insecure about after telling the councelor, after I spent a day on the field trip, glancing around nervously, only to be met with the seething glare of her mother, after "making up" when she decided it was ok again, after she talked about her being mad at me like it was no big deal, but in reality, it had caused my first panic attack ever. Once I walked in on my sister making me a gift for christmas, she screamed at me to get out, and so I did, quickly, I went to my room and cried. She soon came into my room, not to appologise, but to forgive me, for walking into her room, when she called me in. I have panic attacks when people are mad at me, and get extremely enraged when people want me to spend time with them instead of allowing me to be alone. I am sad when people text me, because I hate talking to people, and when they don't, I get lonely. They do not. No one likes me, I am second fpr everything, never a first choice. I am a regect, a table scrap, I am noone's best friend, and noone is mine. Pintrist's best friend crafts make my heart ache. I do not cry, I cry so very rarely, that I wish to cry every waking moment, to releave some pressure, because I am so stressed. I think i'm gonna start eating apple seeds, I am fed up with life.

There’s certainly a lot going on here and I’m truly sorry that this is your reality. I’ve had a few experiences similar to yours regarding dismissive parents and attention being placed on siblings instead but of course i can’t exactly relate to what you’re going through because i am not you. My biggest advice would be to build a support system. I know this is not as easy as it sounds but it is possible. Social anxiety can make you nervous around new people and depression can make you want to isolate. But you have to defy those urges and meet like-minded people. Family doesn’t have to be just people who are blood related to you. The second thing i would suggest is to find some different outlets that replace self harm urges. There are different types of coping mechanisms that are healthy that range from self soothing to taking out emotions in a healthy way. Crying can work for both of these. But of course me or the Internet can not replace a real professional but there is some ways to help yourself. Finally you must advocate for yourself. I find this to be the hardest for me since i am very passive and not assertive. But things will change for the better if you do. I realize all these things are difficult to do but they are necessary. I really wish you the best and i know things can get better for you.

[mel-is-sanonymous1994]

Exploit Found

Part 1 Part 2

A/N once again I am not an expert in anything. I did my best.

PART 2

NOVA’S POV

The Next Morning

Alarms suck. I groaned, stretched, and then walked into the bathroom. Turning on the speaker, I pressed play on my shower playlist, back to back queen. Once I had gone through my routine I got out dried off and got dressed. At Safety Net Cybersecurity there is a pretty strict dress code. I put on a button up baby blue blouse, a pair of khaki skinny jeans and a dark blue blazer. To finish off the outfit I curled my hair, put some light makeup on my face and a pair of heeled short boots. I took one last look in my full-length mirror. I looked ridiculous. I took some deep breaths and walked out of my apartment locking the door behind me. Driving in New York is basically impossible so I waited outside for a cab, which terrified me. As I waited I saw Elliot walk out of our building.

“Hey, Elliot!” I called waving. He glanced at me before walking towards me.

“Where you headed?” I asked trying to make small talk with my less than talkative neighbor.

“Work.” He said, hands still in his hoodie pockets and his eyes looking anywhere but at me.

“Cool me too, where do you work?” I questioned further.

“Safety Net Cybersecurity, I’m a tech.” He said.

“Woah, that’s crazy, I start there today, however, I'm not smart enough to be a tech, I'm basically a secretary kinda.” I babbled.

“That is crazy, well I gotta go.” He said politely attempting to leave the situation. I got an idea.

“Hey! Wait! Would you wanna take a cab with me? I know it sounds ridiculous but I've watched too many crime shows. I’ll pay.” I offered. He looked like he was gonna say no.

“Pretty please Elliot, I promise I won’t say anything to you the entire cab ride, plus it’s a free ride to work,” I begged. He caved.

“Fine,” he said as I hailed a cab. I opened the door for him to slide in. Once I got in I told him the address with a shaky voice. I kept my eyes on the driver as I tried to control my anxiety. I couldn’t bite my fingernails or play with my hair so I resorted to listing all of my family members in order over and over again in my head.

ELLIOT’S POV

We’ve only been in this cab for 5 minutes but I can tell Nova is on edge, she kept tapping her leg in some sort of rhythmic pattern, her eyes are firmly planted on the drivers back which I can tell is making him uncomfortable. Another two minutes had gone by and the driver had had enough.

“Miss if you don’t stop staring at me I’m kicking you out of my cab.” He yelled. She jumped.

“Hey, Nova, uh what made you decide to move to New York?” I asked attempting to distract her. It worked, now she was looking at me. I once again looked anywhere but her eyes.

“Um, personal reasons.” She said looking back at the driver. Crap. Think Elliot.

“Tell me about your family,” I said. She gave me a surprised look.

“I promised I wouldn’t talk.” She smirks slightly.

“If it will keep you distracted and keep us in this cab then go ahead.” I offered.

“I just met you yesterday, how do I know I can trust you with my family information.” She countered. The stalker, it’s made her more cautious and untrusting. I needed to think of a non-personal question. We drove past a bus with some sort of musical advertised on the side of it.

“What’s your favorite musical?” I asked.

“You know for someone who isn’t very comfortable with talking you sure do talk a lot.” She pointed out. I leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear.

“Listen, I know you are super anxious right now, the driver won’t kill us, unless you keep staring at him,” I said trying to help her. Krista (Elliot’s therapist) would have a field day with her.

“Fine.” She said making direct eye contact with me, I looked away.

“Then tell me, Elliot, tell me about your life.” She countered. I froze. I didn’t expect her to turn my questions on me.

“Nothing to it really,” I said shrugging, she was right, we just met.

“Wicked.” She blurted out now staring in her lap at her hands fidgeting.

“What?” I questioned thinking I missed something.

“My favorite musical, Wicked.” She said smiling at me.

“As for the family, and the reason I moved here questions, we are gonna have to wait until we’ve ridden the cab together for at least a month before I answer those questions.” She said nudging me. I flinched slightly at the touch but brushed it off pretty quickly.

“Sorry.” She said noticing my flinch.

“It’s fine. So are you saying that there will be more cab rides?” I asked. I found it slightly easy to talk to her, it felt like talking to Angela (best friend) or Darlene (sister).

“I mean, I have to get to work somehow and I don’t completely trust the subway just yet, if you don’t wanna ride the cab with me for free then I guess I can ride alone.” She said as she began scratching her palm with her opposite hand. I looked at her palm and noticed it was red and rough, must be a coping mechanism, something she does to keep her anxiety at bay. I sighed.

“I’ll ride with you,” I said.

“Thank you.” She said smiling and blushing. She now rubbed her palm with her thumb. I made a mental note to ask Krista about anxiety mechanisms.

“On one condition,” I said with a smirk of my own. She nodded.

“You promise to talk, it seems to distract you and I’m 90% sure our cab driver here almost kicked us out at the last red light,” I said in a whisper once again. We pulled up in front of the building. She pulled out her wallet. I stopped her and paid for the cab ride.

“But whatever will I talk about?” She asked with a smirk.

“Anything, I once had a friend who talked about TV shows, nonstop for months,” I said shrugging. She nodded as she apologized to the driver and thanked him for giving him an additional tip to the one I gave him. Once we got out he drove off.

“Ok, I promise, but be prepared I don’t shut up.” She said laughing nervously at herself. I shrugged once again.

“I’m a good listener,” I said.

“Hi welcome.” A receptionist greeted us at the door. Elliot showed his badge and then walked to the elevators. I gave a slight wave and he gave a polite smile. I took a deep breath and approached the front desk.

“Hello Ma’am, what can I do for you today?” She asked with a megawatt smile.

“Hi, I am here to see Mr. or Mrs. Brown of Safety Net, it’s my first day,” I said nervously.

“Perfect, ride the elevator to the 4th floor, walk into the main room off of the hall and all the way at the back is their offices, whichever one is in right now will get you started. I nodded and followed her instructions. I walked to the offices and saw only one occupied, Mr. Brown’s. I knocked and waited for the wave to enter.

“Yes?” he asked once I opened the door.

“I’m November Peterson, your new employee,” I said as clearly as I could.

“Ah yes, come sit.” He said pointing to the chair across from his desk. He stood to shake my hand and sat back down once I did.

“Welcome to Safety Net, I'll spare you the full backstory but my wife and I started this company only a couple months ago, after the E corp hack, the wife and I were left with nothing, no jobs, no home, and just when we were trying to start a family.” He said drifting off in thought. I cleared my throat.

“Anyway, once E corp had got back their system and the economy was restored my wife and I went to investors with the promise of opening up a company that is pretty hard to hack, we’ve employed the top tech’s in New York, we handle some of the biggest companies in New York's data, we may be just starting out but we already have over 50 companies in our care.” He proudly stated. I noticed the way his face lit up when he talked about his wife. He reminded me of a younger version of my Dad.

“I’m happy to be a part of that sir,” I said smiling. He smiled in return.

“My wife is currently at a doctors appointment otherwise I would take you over to introduce you, finally starting that family, anyway, if you follow me, I'll show you to your desk.” He said standing and opening the door for me.

“I’m sorry it isn’t more glamorous but this is the best we can do for you right now, you can personalize your desk however you’d like, feel free to help yourself to coffee or water in the break room just down the hall, your phone at your desk is set up with it’s own number and line, if reception receives a call for me or the wife and it’s not an urgent matter it will be directed to your phone, answer it, if we are in our office and it seems important or they will not take no for an answer you can transfer it to us by pressing line 3 or 4, if we are out of the office, take a message, or have them call back, use your own judgement, if they seem like assholes and won’t take no for an answer hang up, they will eventually call back anyway. Any questions so far?” he began my instructions as I looked over my desk. It was a half circle set directly in between the Brown’s offices. It was a clear glass top with a nice desktop and a phone. I shook my head and he continued.

“Ok so your main gig while here will be answering phones, but other than phone calls you will be in charge of inputting the simplified reports, the companies we protect each have a number of tech’s on their accounts, every day the companies demand reports, at 4:45 P.M the techs will send a simplified status of all of the accounts they monitored that day, all you have to do is copy and paste them into the program, just click on the company’s name and that will open a page where you will paste the tech lead’s simplified report press send and then do that for every company, it shouldn’t take you very long. Still following?” He asked. I nodded but was still worried I would forget something.

“For today I’ve asked Mr. Alderson to help you at the end of the day, he is our best tech, he oversees most of the tech leads, he doesn’t like the attention but the simplified reports go through him first, other than that you’ll just be sitting here and being an assistant for my wife and I, until the end of the day when you are inputting data. Sound good?” He asked with a smile.

“Yes, sir,” I said sitting in my desk chair. The desk and desk chair were higher than the other desks in the room so I could just about see the entire office. I saw rows of cubicles and heads buried in computers.

“You will have a company log in, your username is your last then first name, the password will automatically generate once you type in your username, we’ve set up the computer so the first time you turn it on it will only ask for your username, then it will send your cellphone a message containing your password that will self delete in 30 seconds to write it down or if you have a good memory then you are good, but the next time you log into your computer you will need that password, if you ever forget your password or for some reason it isn’t working then you can call Mr. Alderson, like I said he is our head tech, best employee.” I nodded.

“Oh and the last thing before I leave you to it, make sure you turn your computer off or log out before you leave your desk if you forget you won’t be in trouble but it’s how we make sure people stick to their desktops.” He said patting my back. I smiled and nodded.

“I’m just gonna stand here for a second while you log in so that I know you get your password.” He said. I turned the computer on and a screen popped up with the heading, Welcome to Safety Net. I clicked in the textbox that said username and typed it in.

Username: PetersonNovember

Once I had typed in the username another screen appeared asking for the password. I felt my phone vibrate and I saw the password. Mr. Brown looked away as I wrote down and typed in my password.

Password: 6683623771987NP

“Thank you for joining Safety Net.” The computer said in an automated voice.

“Perfect, ok well, I’ll leave you to it, if you have any questions or need me feel free to come ask otherwise there is a list of phone numbers next to your phone including mine and the wife’s office phone so feel free to call. You are gonna do great.” He said with one more encouraging pat on the back. I felt my phone vibrate once more. Once he walked away I looked at who it was.

Mommy: Hey honey, how is the first day going, we miss you, Mason and Max say hi, they miss their big sister.

Me: It’s going great, just started, it’s a lot but I got this, tell them I say hi, and I miss them more, also tell them that they can text me themselves lol

Mommy: You know the twins, they don’t wanna bother their sister, they think because you are 28 and living in New York you don’t have time for your 16-year-old siblings anymore.

Me: well that is just not true, I always have time for the little miracles, please tell them to text me whenever and for whatever reason, even if it’s just Mason telling me about her most recent attempt at a boyfriend or Max’s incessant need to try every single sport.

Mommy: will do, oh lord Max has moved on to hockey, poor boy.

Me: What happened to soccer?

Mommy: that’s a summer sport dear, and at the end of this year, Mason will be performing at Walleye, she is only going to be on a small stage but her little girl band has attracted quite a bit of attention here in town.

Me: OH MY GOSH, I will have to fly down to see my little sister kill it, but listen I gotta go I'll call you later when I get home to talk to all of you.

Mommy: Oh before I forget, your old house was broken into, James knows you moved, there is no way in hell he would know where since you are so far away but I just thought I'd let you know.

Me: Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.

I locked my phone and set it down on my desk and took a deep breath, James is continuing to be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I glanced at my computer and saw messages popping up in a company group chat, every single tech in the room had welcomed me to the company. I blushed and took another breath as my phone rang. So it begins.

“Hello, Safety Net,” I answered as cheerfully as I could. This job could either go really good or really horrible, being an assistant might seem easy at the moment but the data inputting, that doesn’t seem easy at all.

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Ghost of you, 15/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 15/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "She felt it, it was time to speak about the weight on her shoulders. Something she had never done before."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“'Cause I'd rather feel your pain than nothing at all.” - Three Doors Down.

CHAPTER 15:

Amy woke up slowly. She was wrapped into a cocoon of warmth and well-being. She didn’t remember when was the last time she had felt so well. She stretched her body. She was taking all her time. She didn’t want to lose this precious well-being she hadn’t felt in ages. There was someone lay by her side. She rolled on her side and cuddled into the warm body beside her. She heard a smile and someone wrapped an arm around her. She must be dreaming but that dream was pleasurable. She liked it. She lazily wrapped her arm around that person. She didn’t know what she had expected but certainly not to be so close to a woman. This surprised her beyond words and she reluctantly rolled away from the unknown person she liked cuddling into. She couldn’t let herself go that way. The other woman reacted by trying to soothe her but Amy was too sleepy to be calmed down so easily. She needed to clear her mind first. Moaning, she pushed the hand away and rubbed her eyes. She stretched her body and looked around her. She wasn’t in her office but she wasn’t in her house either. It was a room she didn’t know. Had she done it again? Had she drunk until she had a blackout and been brought home by some stranger? There were pictures on the wall facing the bed. Pictures of a couple. Great, the woman she was with was married. She would have to deal with another cheated husband. She knew well that she didn’t have any control on herself when she was drunk. It was only a way to mute her pain. She was doing this when it was too strong, when it was suffocating her. She focused on the pictures on the wall. She wanted to see what the man she would have to face in the near future – because fate always made sure she faced them – looked like and the last pieces of the puzzle clicked together. It was Maxence Spitz. She remembered how she had ended up here. She had watched Rose work with Maxence for a while and the scientist had taken her into the private parts of the lab. They had had a quick lunch and they had settled down here. After a quick shower, they had lain down in bed and, reassured that she wasn’t alone for once, Amy had fallen asleep rather quickly. How much time had she slept? Had Rose watched her while she was asleep or had she slept too? It felt weird to be here, in this bed, with the wife of the man supposed to be her boss at the moment. But it was the start of a friendship. “How long have I slept?” A certain time according to her croaked voice and the feeling of being rested. She hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. It was before… “I’d say eight solid hours.” “Eight hours?” “You needed that sleep.” “And you?” “A couple hours.” Amy looked up at Rose. She was sat against a pile of pillows, glasses on her head and a book on her lap. She was reading and marking pages by folding their upper corner. Probably a book about her current researches. She looked as exhausted as before though. “You don’t look like someone who’s slept.” “Never said it was a good sleep.” “Do you have nightmares?” “I’m not the only one.” Rose looked away from her book to stare at Amy. Those whiskey eyes were clear on the meaning of those words. Somewhen during the night she had dreamt of this event and she must have screamed and cried and struggled against the sheets. “Sorry.” “Don’t be. I know what it is.” If there was something nice about Rose, it was that she wasn’t asking questions. She was giving her the time to consider the eventuality and if she wasn’t talking, she wouldn’t insist. She would wait until she was ready. “We all have our demons. You know mine already.” “But you don’t know mine.” “You’re not forced to talk to me.” “You’ve been comforting me, that’s the least I can do. You’re also the only one to care about me here.” Her voice was sad when she evoked this lack of friends in her surroundings. Rose was the first one to ever hold a hand out to her in this place and it felt amazing to have someone like her so close to her. Somehow, it felt easier to make friends in such a situation. She hesitantly snuggled closer to her new friend. “In my hometown, I’m known to sleep with married women,” she chuckled. “It only happened once but you know how people are.” “We all do mistakes.” “When my pain was suffocating me, I was going to a pub and drinking until I couldn’t feel it anymore. Once, I was taken home by a woman and I woke up in her bed. Only to be caught by her husband a couple hours later.” Amy fell silent after this admission. She was waiting for the judgement to come. People always judged a woman that was sleeping with someone married or that was having relations with another woman. But Rose didn’t say a thing. Instead, she pointed to a picture on the wall. A younger version of her and Maxence together in a park. Maxence had his arms around Rose and he was smiling brightly. Rose was just as happy on this picture. “This was the day we admitted our feelings to each other. It was one month after I broke up with Liv.” “You mean…” “Olivia Baxter, our doctor. We’ve known each other since forever. I’m totally bi. Not gonna judge you on this one.” “We didn’t…” “No.” Amy was relieved to know this at least. A friend that wasn’t judging her and that hadn’t let her make another mistake. Finally someone open minded. “Not enough alcohol in this building for us to be drunk. And I’m faithful.” “I used to be,” sadly murmured the therapist. She sat up and stared at the wall before her. She felt it, it was time to speak about the weight on her shoulders. Something she had never done before but Rose was offering her the trust and friendship she needed. It was all new but she knew deep down that she could say anything to this woman. She would listen and never judge. Hopefully. As a way to prove it, Rose took her hand and gently squeezed it. “The virus was already out when it happened. It wasn’t as bad as it is now. We could go out and have fun. And that’s what we did, my husband and son and I. There was a fair in our little town and we’ve spent the day there. It was a long and amazing day. My little boy, my William…” Her voice trailed off and she stopped speaking for a couple minutes. The anxiety was strangling her again. Rose didn’t say anything, she just stroked her hand with her thumb. A way to reassure her, to tell her that she wasn’t alone. After all, she was going through a loss too and she knew what it was. There was nothing to say at the moment. She could only listen. “We let him eat too much sugar and he was sick. I was driving so Bob, my husband, could deal with our son. He was blaming me for buying so much candy floss and so many sweets and I was trying to argue that our son’s happiness was the only thing that mattered. Every kid experiences sickness because of sweets at one point. But this argument signed our end. It distracted us.” She closed her eyes as the memories flew into her mind. She could see herself driving, her husband turned to watch William who was complaining about a belly ache. Two parents arguing and a sick child. She was looking for a place to stop the car so they could get out and breathe some fresh air to make the nausea disappear. And this man came out of nowhere. She brutally steered to avoid him and she lost the control of the car. No matter how hard she was trying to get the control back, the car kept sliding on the road and her husband was yelling at her and it was disturbing her. What had to happen happened. The car left the road and collided with a tree. The shock was so violent and so sudden that the airbags didn’t work. Her head bumped against the steering wheel and she thought it was over for her. “When I woke up, I was in the ICU. They waited until I was transferred to the light cares unit before telling me the truth. They haven’t suffered, they say. The collision killed them both instantly.” This was the last straw. Amy burst into tears and Rose wrapped her arms around her. She hugged her tight and rubbed her back while she cried all the pain that was still hurting her heart.

x

Zachary was worried. He had watched Maxence working and entering all the formula he had written on the wall on his personal space. Zachary had transferred the data to Tegan for him to approve of them. He would have to talk with Rose to be sure this was exact and to use those formula for their researches. But that wasn’t the reason why Zachary was so worried. After he was done, Maxence had cleaned the walls and instead of pacing around his cage, he had lain down and closed his eyes as if he was gonna sleep. At first, Zachary had thought he was doing it out of habit – a habit from when he was human – or because he was simply bored and wanted to look at the ceiling like he was often doing. Allegro was watching a movie in his cell. There was nothing to worry about for him. However, for Maxence, things were getting complicated. His brain seemed to have switched to a standby mode. A sort of sleep that wasn’t really sleep. He was just lying there with his eyes closed. Zachary was keeping an eye on his vital signs. His brain activity had reduced to the minimum, to the very minimum. If Zach didn’t have the other information under his eyes, he would think that the man was dead or about to be. Maybe he was dying. Zachary wasn’t very qualified on this field but he was clever enough to understand that something was wrong. The vital signs weren’t good at all. He entered an alert on their interactive group work. Someone needed to come and do a check up on him. Just to be sure that the fake cure given to him wasn’t having any effect on him anymore. Just a precaution not to lose him all of a sudden. Tegan was busy with the hacker and the maker of this fake cure at the moment and he wouldn’t be able to come before he was done. Rose had gone with Amy a little moment ago and they hadn’t come back yet. Jack and Clara were checking new formulas with Martha. Liv was probably getting some rest somewhere. All the qualified people of this team were busy elsewhere. Zachary hoped they would see the alert before anything happened to Maxence. That could be really bad. Allegro, on the other hand, was perfectly fine. All the effects of the ultraviolet were gone since they had turned off the lights and he hadn’t had any other fit of anger. Another check up was supposed to be done on him. If he was getting three negatives in a row, he would be able to come out of this place. It would be a relief but he wasn’t putting his hopes too high. He was bored in this cage but he was also very safe. Zachary was often chatting with him whenever he was having a small break. “Any good zombie movies to recommend to me?” It was just yesterday. Allegro was in a quite good mood and he wanted to joke. A zombie movie really was the easiest of jokes in the current times. That was why Allegro had asked for this. “What makes you think I’m a fan of zombie movies?” “You’re quite young. Young people love scaring themselves with those sorts of movies.” “Sorry to disappoint you, I’m prefer comedies and anime series. I love a good documentary too.” “Still a kid inside.” “What’s the point of growing up if you can’t be childish at times?” “I like your philosophy but I unfortunately have seen too many horrors to find my innocence again.” Just like Jack, Allegro had been a soldier before. When his contract with the army was over, he hadn’t renewed it. Instead, he had started looking for small jobs that were less stressful and that didn’t require traveling that much. That’s how he had ended up being a security member of this lab. Not a bad job during the good times. “You’re locked in there for a while, why not bringing back all those memories from your childhood? I’m sure the cartoons you used to watch are still available.” “How old do you think I am?” Zachary chuckled. He knew how old Allegro was. He was gonna turn forty soon. On normal times, some of his colleagues would have organised a small surprise party. Just to celebrate this special day. This lab could be such a perfect place sometimes. “Old enough to listen to those songs no one knows on Jazz FM.” “I like this radio. It’s relaxing.” “More a fan of Beethoven, me.” “That is surprising.” “I like rock music. I wish I could have gone to a Maiden concert. I guess it’s a dream that will never come true though.” “You can’t know. They maybe will find a cure that will save this world.” “It will take a while before people start trusting other people again to gather into public places.” “There’s this band I really like. A French band. It’s quite special but it’s really good. Ever heard of Indochine?” “If that’s not about this part of the world, then, I don’t what it is.” “It inspired the name. Listen to it. It’s really nice.” That’s how Zach had ended up on YouTube to listen to that French band while Allegro was taking a nap. Old school, bit weird, but very good. He really liked the music. Some of their songs were bringing energy and good vibes. It certainly was appreciated. “Are you watching one of those cartoons again?” joked Allegro. “Nope.” “That seems entertaining.” “It is. That’s the band you’ve told me about. I don’t understand half the lyrics but their music is nice.” “You can’t understand them. There isn’t any sense to their lyrics most of the time.” “Not sure about it.” “That’s not what’s causing you to be so anxious though.” “No. I’m keeping an eye on Maxence’s vital signs and they haven’t been good for a couple hours. I’ve entered an alert but no one has seen it yet.” “Is this that bad?” “If there wasn’t this information on my screen, I’d thought he’s dead. He hasn’t moved in hours.” “And no one had come? That’s weird.” “They’re all busy. T is on the hacker case. Rose is with the therapist. Jack and Clara and Martha are busy with some new formulas. I have no idea where Liv can be. And there’s nothing…” He was interrupted in his explanation by the striding sound and the red alert on his screens. Maxence sat up straight suddenly, gasping for air. He tapped the wall for someone to help him. Zach was powerless but thankfully, he saw Liv, fully dressed into a hazmat suit, running straight to his cage. She had seen the alert, he thought with relief. Maxence was coughing now. He still couldn’t breathe. He fell down the bed, on his hands and knees. Liv tried to talk to him but he wasn’t listening. All he wanted was air. She placed an oxygen mask on his face. He greedily breathed in that pure air finally reaching his lungs. “Breathe slowly, Maxence. Very slowly.” He wasn’t listening. He was too focused on taking as much air as he could. He was feeling better now that he could breathe again. He looked up at Liv and saw the sadness and fear in her eyes. She pressed her fingers on his ear briefly and pulled them back. The tip of her gloves was covered with a crimson sticky fluid. Blood. He touched his face, his ears, his nose, his mouth and his fingers were covered with the same blood. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. “We’re gonna have to make you go through another scan.” She had seen his latest results and they were bad. Jack had created an alert about it earlier this week. Zachary’s had made an echo to this alert and was telling them that the situation was getting worse. Maxence was fighting the virus and it was slowly killing him. Liv cupped his cheek. “You have to stop fighting. I know you don’t want to, but you have to. It’s important. You’re dying, Maxence.” Dying. The word echoed in his mind. Wasn’t he already dying? Wasn’t he dead since the moment he had been infected? He wanted to get better and he needed to be himself to find that cure. He couldn’t be himself if he stopped fighting. Rose wanted him to fight. So he had to keep fighting. Whatever it caused him. “I’m serious, Max. You might not hold on until we find that cure if you don’t let the virus win.” He shook his head and put the mask back on his face. Liv was amazed to see how aware he was of his surroundings. She knew it was because he was fighting but it was still a shock to see it. “Rose will understand. Nightwalkers don’t die from the virus unless they get involved in fights. You can’t be both. You’ll get back to your real self, but not now.” He pushed the mask away once again. His breathing was much better. He didn’t need it anymore. He gave it back to Liv. She would probably have to destroy it now. She wouldn’t use it on someone healthy. Or she would keep it for him if he was having another fit. “You can let go. It’s okay.” He didn’t want to. He refused to. He didn’t want to abandon his friends, his team. He wanted to help them as much as he could. Even if he had to die for this. He shook his head and Liv took her hand away from his face. “I’ll always be there to save you like you’ve saved me if you keep fighting. I won’t let you die.” He was surprised by the sudden change of speech from the young woman. What was making her change her mind so quickly? There must be a reason for that. “You never gave up when I was in troubles,” she murmured. “So I’m never gonna give up until you’re better.” Next thing he knew, she was hugging him tight. The plastic of the suit creaked. It was rather unpleasant to feel this against his skin but it was the first time he was given a hug in forever. So he hugged her back. It wasn’t the same as hugging Rose but it was okay. He liked it. Finally someone wasn’t afraid of the nightwalker him.

x

Tegan quickly walked to the public workspace where Camden and Donna were working. Camden had asked for him to come because they had found a clue for the patient zero. Even if it was good news, he wasn’t pleased to be interrupted in his rest. He had sorted things out with Colin and made him lock away in an empty area of the lab with guards to be sure he wouldn’t run away. It was also for him to be fed and taken care of if there was any problem. This was a solved case. While he was resting after Liv healed him, there had been this alert from Zachary that was causing him to be anxious. So anxious that he was on the edge of panicking. That was why Liv had insisted on him resting. She would check on Maxence and keep him updated. His head was pounding and his face was painful. Colin had quite a punch and doing nothing to protect himself had been a clever but dangerous move. He was paying for it but that pain was highly satisfying knowing the result. He had remained on the couch of his office for a moment before another mail came. A mail from Camden requiring his presence immediately. He had sighed and made his way there. He couldn’t refuse any clue when it was for a cure that would save Maxence. “I hope that’s not a deadlock. I’m not in the mood for fake hopes.” Speaking was hurting because it was using too many muscles that were bruised and sensitive but he couldn’t avoid this conversation. It was too crucial. Donna opened her eyes wide when she saw his face and Camden raised an interrogative eyebrow. This place was rather interesting in the end. The interactions between the scientists seemed to be highly charged. More than in a usual lockdown situation. There were personal matters interfering. It was fascinating. “What has happened to you?” “Bad moves while training.” “I’ve studied biology. This is not an accident.” “Whatever. This is not what brings me here, right?” “Jack and Clara will tell you I’m a very curious man.” “He is,” confirmed Donna. “And I never give up until I have my answers.” “That’s also true,” sighed the red-haired woman. “Well, look for all the answers you want and give me what I’ve come for.” Tegan sat down on the chair facing Camden and pushed the cardboard boxes that were in front of him. He folded his arms on his chest. He wanted to go back to his couch with an ice pack and an aspirin. But he was as curious as Camden and wanted his answers. “As a scientist, you must know what the Xeroderma Pigmentosum is.” “Yes. An extremely rare disease that makes every patient unable to bear the UV lights.” “And did you know there were researches to find a cure?” “Just like every cancer on Earth, there always has been researches for Xeroderma Pigmentosum. Get straight to the point.” Camden gathered a couple of papers that were scattered in front of him and pushed them toward Tegan. The neurologist took them. He didn’t understand where Camden was going but it was because his pain was distracting him. “We’ve found out that the most important researches were done by someone called Myrtle Appleton. Here, in England.” “However,” continued Donna, “she was sacked from the lab she was working in because she was using unconventional methods. It was a couple days before the virus hit the world officially.” “But she didn’t stop her researches. She has done them clandestinely.” “So, you’re telling me that this Myrtle Appleton was running experiences secretly and that one of these experiences might have gone wrong and provoked this whole mess?” “Yes.” Tegan put the documents down. He hadn’t even read them. His mind was focused on something else, something that didn’t please him at all. He jumped to his feet and left the workspace. He made his way to the empty part of the building where Colin was locked. Their paths kept crossing and Tegan really, really hated it…

To be continued...

Ghost of you © | 2017 - 2018 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

In the next chapter:

Colin was outrageously relaxed for someone who had been sacked and locked away. Tegan was resisting the envy of throwing him out of the lab and letting him see how he would survive out there. It was a chance that it hadn’t done it yet since Colin was gonna be really useful if he accepted to speak. Tegan wouldn’t get inside his prison. It would be playing Colin’s game. He would just do what he had to do by staying outside. One black eye was enough for him. He observed Colin. The scientist was laid on the desk of the room and watching the ceiling. He had a smirk on his face. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the whole situation. He was annoyed to have been caught but he was living it quite well. And this was infuriating Tegan. How could this mad scientist be so happy with himself when he almost killed a man?

×××

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[anothergirlrecovering]

Dietician day one

I sat in the waiting room of the nutritionist office uncomfortably texting my husband about random things. She came out smiling and shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me and walked me back to her office. She was super kind and compassionate and she asked me starting off if I had any Questions for her about everything and I asked what made her want to be a dietitian and specifically what made her want to work with eating disorders since they are probably the most challenging population for her to work with and she is sort of the least liked person on the team and she explained the story of how she had thought she wanted to be an accountant because it sounded like a good job and she went to college and took a class in it and he did it but had taken a nutrition class and loved it and felt like everything made sense and she had thought she would want to work with eating disorders because it seemed like something she would really like but then there weren’t really any opportunities in the field at that time and everything was sort of more focused on actual centers and not private practice and she said she had little kids later on and there was an opening at the treatment center nearby for a part-time dietitian so she applied they are thinking that might be her way to get to try working with that population and she went and really enjoyed it and then due to a variety of factors she recognize that she wanted to step out into private practice and she absolutely loves it. She said what a great question that was because normally people just ask her if she is proficient in treating eating disorders and I laughed and was like Amber told me all about how great you are so I never had any doubt that you are proficient and I explained how I had been planning to see her whenever I get pregnant and I just had an anticipated coming so soon but that my therapist Lynn had strongly suggested it. She had printed out the form that she had initially asked me to fill out online and I was thankful because she had actually read everything which I feel like a lot of times practitioners kind of skim over stuff but she knew a lot about me and pointed out that I had been really she had printed out the form that she had initially asked me to fill out online and I was thankful because she had actually read everything which I feel like a lot of times practitioners kind of skim over stuff but she knew a lot about me and pointed out that I had been really thorough and she made a comment about how she could tell that I was really intellectual and highly intelligent and I kind of jokingly said thanks and she was like no really I can tell by the way that you talk and in reading your responses to my intake that you are. thorough and she made a comment about how she could tell that I was really intellectual and highly intelligent and I kind of jokingly said thanks and she was like no really I can tell by the way that you talk and in reading your responses to my intake that you are. She told me that she would have to weigh me and I was like oh that’s fine and she was like OK you never know how people are going to take that and I was like yeah no it’s fine and she said we will do it at the end and I said OK that’s fine I weighed myself this morning and saw that I gained 3 pounds over Christmas so there’s that and so she was like oh OK are you weighing yourself pretty frequently because I saw on your paperwork that it seemed like it was kind of sporadic and I explained how it’s hit and miss work sometimes I weigh every day for a couple weeks and sometimes I don’t way at all for a few weeks. She asked about a lot of different things about my history and weather or not they are still in issue. I was honestly surprised because she never went over what my goal weight should be and she didn’t bring up recovery record and she said we were running out of time at the end so we couldn’t create a specific meal plan but she gave me a print out and I was like OK that’s fine. She was super compassionate though and talked about what my values are and she was like I’m pretty intuitive and I can gather from everything you’ve said that your dog is important to you and your husband is important to you and your job is important to you and musicals are important and is there anything else I’m missing and then she clarified and said she’s looking for things that are motivating me to get better and to fuel my body and I was like well I think the hope to raise a family and recognizing that you kind of can’t eat the way that I do and be pregnant and she was like yeah I know you can’t and that’s usually a pretty good motivator for a A lot of women but what about you? And I was like wait what and she was like all of those goals are great but what about you and I just kind of sat there staring for a second and she was like it’s OK for you to be important enough on your own to fuel your body because you deserve it and you’re worth it and you matter and she went on and on saying all these nice things and I just sort of sat there on comfortably smiling and she was like I know you might not feel it right now but you do matter and you do deserve to eat. She said that as soon as she brought up me mattering she could tell that I got really uncomfortable and she could see the wheels turning and she knows that there’s a lot going on up there in thinking about it and it’s OK if I don’t believe I am matter right now but that doesn’t mean that I can never believe that. She introduced the idea of adding the word and and then but to my sentence when my head starts spinning with unhealthy thoughts and I said I would try it. She wants me to think about practicing flexibility with text her is because that was the one goal that I said that I actually want to be over and of course the hard goal is to practice fueling at breakfast and lunch and she wrote on my little paper you are worth it and food does not have an agenda. I feel like every time she pointed out something rational she could tell that my brain was sitting there challenging it because I like when she was like oh all the foods are just there to nourish your body and fuel it they don’t have the agenda it doesn’t matter where comes from organic or not they still have the same make up and she was like what and I was like but I also still have that voice of my parents going on and on and on in my head don’t eat the pork it has nitrates in it so pork might be pork but it does have nitrates and she was like so there’s a lot of rigidity around strictly being healthy and she was like I’m not telling anybody to go out and eat fried chicken every single day but when you are restricting yourself from those things your body‘s going to want them and The more rules that you create for yourself the moorings Eydie you are going to have. She actually mentioned anxiety and how when you hold it somewhere like for me she thinks it’s probably anxiety in my gut and so part of it is the messages that I’m receiving every time that I eat and anxiety is literally releasing uncomfortable chemicals in my stomach or something like that and to makes me actually feel bad on top of the actual food and how she had recognize the physical therapist saying that anxiety is in my stomach and she pointed out that all girls seem to of gone through this sort of petri dish time in their life when everybody was looking at them under a microscope and they are sitting there wondering what’s wrong with their bodies and she said that her daughter had an eating disorder issues at one point and so she is understanding. She brought up eating breakfast and lunch and I said eating breakfast sounds stressful because it means I’m gonna be hungry every two hours or every 30 minutes you never know and she was like well it shouldn’t be every 30 minutes eventually and I was like well I just feels like my hunger is in satiable and literally when I was in the 11th grade my science teacher made fun of me and called me tapeworm because I was always hungry and she was like I eat like every two hours to and that’s normal there is no set one way to eat they don’t know what your body needs and everybody is different and it’s OK to need more at certain times than others and right now your body might have gotten used to eating like once a day and eventually it’s going to be like feed me feed me and I couldn’t help but laugh and was like feed me Seymour because she said she love musicals too. She asked me about how I manage my anxiety and I said mainly with CBT because I challenge those thoughts a lot and I gave the example of how I almost had a panic attack sitting in the circular booth in the middle because I always freak out and think I’m going to throw up even though there’s no real logic to that and I sort of just challenge those thoughts with the Factive like there’s no reason to think I would throw up I haven’t even eaten yet and they would all let me out of the Rose if I needed to get up and throw up and if it was going to happen it would really hit me and I would know etc. she asked me about grounding techniques and I said that I definitely tell my clients them but I don’t really use them that often but I explained how Broadway musicals has really helped me reign in some of that. She mentioned that I’ve had a lot of traumas and developed a lot of negative beliefs and thoughts from the past that are still influencing the present and then I can start to work on challenging them. After she explained that long thing about and and but she asked me what I was thinking and I just sort I have laughed and she was like what and I was like honestly Pam used to say that to me a lot when I was in paying attention but I swear I was paying tension to you and that actually makes sense and I was like Pam used to always be like get behind the feeling and she was like what feeling and I was like exactly and she laughed and I was like no everything you’ve said actually does make a lot of sense and it does help me to challenge my irrational thoughts so I can definitely try that. We had talked at the beginning about The treatment center she had worked out because it’s one that I’m actually technically working at PRN and I got the sense that it was a bad situation and I was like yeah I don’t blame you I wouldn’t want to work there full-time either and we talked about the dietitians in my area which she didn’t know one of them personally but had heard of her and it’s the one that I like and she didn’t know the other one and the one in patient. She didn’t know the one who had really helped me to stop hurting and I said she really only practiced for a little bit and then her and her husband got pregnant and she decided to stay at home and be a mom since her husband was a doctor and they were financially stable. She said good for her and she asked me about when I would want to be having a baby and I was like I don’t know I’ve been ready to have a baby for a few months but my husband is still not really ready yet. She asked me if my husband gets it or if he’s a support and she was like because there’s a difference and I was like no I get what you mean and I explained a little bit of our history and how that dynamic has been really unhealthy before and so at this point we sort of just don’t really talk about it and I said that he knows that I’m there seeing her and she was like OK that’s good and I explained a little bit of how uncomfortable it had gotten when he saw me texting Amber and how I’m just really worried that it’s going to blow up and be like that again and I don’t wanted to be and it just sent him a really unhealthy dynamic between us. She said that I never mention my mom and my intake which made me laugh and I was like you should tell my therapist that she get a real kick out of it and she was like well it looks like you listed mental illness for a lot of other people and I was like oh well my mom just never got diagnosed and I explained how my parents are just kind of neurotic about their food choices and pretty much every therapist who knows about eating disorders has said that they think they have an eating disorder and I’m a little bit in denial about it but I think last Christmas when my aunts said that my parents were bringing their own special food over to family events and it kind of hit home for me that that wasn’t normal and maybe they are a little bit more than on a diet type of deal and I explained how my grandma died and how I don’t really think it was emphysema. She was really nice and clarifying about how she wasn’t judging me for anything and that she takes everything I say as me being honest because that’s what she has to go off of and I was like that’s fine I promise that I’m not going to lie to you or anything because she asked what lying by omission meant tonight explained what my husband says about it and she was like oh OK and she said she could tell that I am honest because of the way that I was very open in my intake papers. She asked about my caffeine intake and I said is pretty slim all things considered and we talked about Diet Coke because I said if my husband has bought diet Cokes then I will typically drink two or three a week if they are in the house and she was like yeah those are typically Meal re placements and I explained how my hands used to hurt really bad because I was excessively drinking them and she explained how I probably triggered some auto immune response with my mean system trying to protect me and I said yeah probably. She pointed out a few times that she was just really poking me to get at my believes and she had asked sort of if I thought I had a problem and I was like I mean I know that I would never tell a client with my history that this is OK but at the same time it’s so easy to minimize it because I feel like normal people skip meals and they’re fine and I don’t feel like I’m in the anorexic mindset of really intentionally trying to lose weight and checking the scale all the time to make sure it’s going down so if feels like it isn’t really a problem. I explained how I’ve really thought a lot about why am I not prioritizing it because I said I really wish that I did care about prioritizing it but like I honestly just don’t and I explained how I just feel really bad after I eat and I think to some extent it’s sort of just become this avoidance of discomfort because if I put off breakfast and lunch and then I eat dinner at least when I’m having dinner I’m at home and can lay down which actually helps a lot or there’s my dog and my husband and TV and my piano and whatever else to wear I’m not as focused on it whereas if I meeting during the day that I’m sitting there at work thinking about it and I explained how if I eat during the workday then that means I have to sit there for the next hour or two or three obsessively thinking about how fat I feel and how my stomach feels fat whereas I could just avoid them. She said that she got the sense that I was really rigid and I explained about the chickens and how I need the free range chicken and free range eggs in it I won’t eat pork and I was like because I care about the pigs in the chickens and I was like so it’s not eating disordered and she pointed out just how rigid I’m being in general and that she doesn’t actually care whether or not I choose the free range stuff but the goal is that I not be so rigid and since I do all of the grocery shopping she asked about what it would be like if my husband did the grocery shopping and I was like I’m too much of a control freak and I feel like he wouldn’t buy the right things and she was like exactly my point so maybe that could be a goal of ours eventually and I just sat there realizing how anxious I fell just thinking about letting my husband be the one to grocery shop which sucks because I don’t want to admit that that makes me anxious but it does. We also talked a little bit about religion and when I was trying to explain my parents and my mom siblings and he became religious I’ll like they just kind of went crazy and in the sort of like and I realized that Fräulein no this nutritionist could also be crazy so I was like if you don’t mind me asking are you religious and she said yes she considers herself a Christ follower and I was like is there a denomination and I forget what she said but she said she was more evangelical and I was like OK then you might not actually find this crazy and want to start explaining and she was like oh no that sounds a lot more like this huge church of God church we have here and I’m not like that but she said she feels like spirituality is a healthy part of recovery. Also we talked a little bit about my issues with getting quality sleep and not feeling rested and she was saying that it’s possible that eating well will help me to sleep better or that eating well might help me have energy throughout the day but she can’t make any promises so we will just see how that goes and hopefully it will help.She said she knows a lot of this is really hard for me but she really believes that I can have the life that I want to have and she’s honestly just so nice. She ended it of course by taking a copy of my homework for me to have with me along with the sheet of suggested meals and then she weighed me and of course I didn’t get to see the number which annoys me mainly because I just want to know whether or not it was the same as what it was this morning or if it went up because of wearing clothing. Whatever the case she said she got my weight and we came back into her office and scheduled for two weeks from now she said that she really wants to see me weekly at least in the beginning but she didn’t have an appointment available during the time that I would be free for next week so we scheduled for early morning the following week before therapy and she was like oh and there’s a little break after so you could maybe eat a snack and then because hopefully you will have already had breakfast I just didn’t Seney thing because I know the reality of me eating breakfast that early in the morning before I drive all the way there is probably slim to none but whatever she can think of. She did that awkward uncomfortable thing where she really looked at me and said to take care of yourself and I said I would try and I looked away because it feels uncomfortable when people care about me and I feel even more uncomfortable knowing that she knows that and I can’t even explain why.

[aftertheam]

It was like some kind of joke. The same joke over and over that I have experienced the last 28 years of my life. I haven’t even heard from him, I have no idea what he’s doing. I don’t know if he’s back in LA or if he still in Ohio. It’s like I’m angry and I’m frustrated and I want to cry but my body physically won’t let me because I’m so stubborn and prideful but the truth is I have been applying and applying to anywhere and everywhere and putting my resume online except I keep getting these entry level positions that pay you on commission and it’s basically a joke. I know I can’t be picky right now but I also can’t force myself to take a job I know I’m going to end up hating and regretting. If I’m not working to manifest my vision,  helping others, building my empire or utilizing my creativey by doing what I want and have been working for the last four years - what the fuck was all that for? But I can’t depend on this bullshit unemployment money, I don’t know how anyone does. People think that they’re taking advantage of the system when I got paid $160 for two weeks and I still have to pay taxes on that and 160 is a dent in nothing. That’s not even 30% on my rent, I can buy dog food maybe and necessities like soap, toilet paper, masks.  I am frustrated because the plan was that he was going to come back home and help me with rent and we were going to work and live together and have the dogs and everything was gonna be OK - that’s what he told me before he left, he told me every time I panicked which was every fucking hour. He reassured me and I believed it.

But then that’s it – he left. I think that in the back of my mind, he wanted out and didn’t know how to do it without seeming like like the bad guy abandoning his girl in the middle of a global pandemic. I know that he was scared, I was scared too. I didn’t know how I was going to make money since he didn’t want me to work but I would figure it out and he could’ve found a job here but instead he went home, didn’t have to spend a cent of his fucking unemployment money so that you can rent any apartment when he gets back which is so fucked up because I got $160 for my last 2 weeks and he had the nerve to ask me for the money back that he sent to help. It wasn’t even a month of rent and I still sent it. Trying to survive here and keep my sanity from going to far off the ledge but I think it’s too late for that.

I think the worst part is that I just feel insulted and humiliated more so than  sad. I feel like I was doing OK I mean I wasn’t I was becoming a hermit after I got raped but it was fine I was single for four years before that I could’ve stayed single another four years and instead he came along and I was like the shiny toy he’s ever before because I don’t do anything conventionally - everything about my life was probably so intriguing until he realized he didn’t want it. That happens a lot. People realizing that I’m not just what I let the world see but the people that stick around are the ones that matter. my therapist says to forgive myself and take time for myself because I’m so tired. I’m tired of always having to be OK because I grew up programmed to always be OK and never needing help or showing weakness aka having feelings. I told her that I felt like I was 16 again just emotional roller coaster and my skin is breaking out which is making me even more stress and I just feel abandoned and I didn’t have any connection with anyone. She answered by saying that whenever I felt that way it was my subconscious telling me that I needed to be there for that 16-year-old me and remind myself that I don’t need anyone because I’m already strong enough to care for myself and that I’m going to be there for that awkward, shy and quiet but also a smart ass teenager. I was supposed to let her know that I’d be there for her and damn, if she knew the shit that she was going to experience and make happen now, she’d be having a fucking field day.

I think I’m starting to ramble. I know that we weren’t meant to be together and I know that it probably never would’ve worked out because I don’t know if we would both be able to put in that kind of work. But I did love him and what is shitty about that is I didn’t even want to in the first place and he got caught up in everything that I am that for him and wasn’t even real. Maybe at the time he thought it was but I don’t think here you ever really did and that really breaks my heart and makes me feel like an idiot for choosing the person to open up to of course that will leave you two days after your birthday and promise to come home just to change their minds to stay longer. I’m really lonely and I like to be alone. It’s quiet and I get to really self reflect and sort through my thoughts. But I’m really fucking lonely and it’s been months and I don’t even know how to go out and be around people because my anxiety is she from the PMDD. I just have to be back on my bullshit and stop making excuses and being scared because I’m not 16 years old anymore and guess what? I always handle my shit and take care of me and my dog. I don’t have time to cry or breakdown and spiral into the abyss. I have work to do.

Dude I don’t even know what this post was supposed to be about. Yeah I needed to vent I guess I did. Do I feel better? I don’t know but I wrote a song the other day. I’ll never show it anyone. Maybe Griff 

[talesfromacrip]

septiembre thoughts:

I’ve been, really down lately. not showing it much, but I am.

there are other important matters to deal with than my constant irrelevant life occurrences. (imo)

I can bring them up, sure, but I don’t want it to always be about me..

I can barely hold a conversation and when I do, I just, act like a dumbass.. without a single care in the world when I’m having a plethora it seems.

I ache to let it out but I hold it in. makes me an asshole in the process bc I get moody from it.. be it a bit mad or just plain ol’ sad. it’s not even from anyone but me.. internalized ableism is truly a bitch and it makes other things/thoughts spiral

I don’t ask anyone else whats wrong and all nowadays.. I feel like they think I don’t care about them when I do so fucking much

if I do, ask em, then it’ll come down to me.. like, it makes me incredibly anxious to think and all. there’s, so much to explain yet little time with some being busy and I’m just, here being in the way. adding more weight on top of the pile

-

I feel so empty when I get up from dreams I have with someone I’ll just, never be with.

my mind loves to play these games with me. almost every night or other depending on how I’m feeling. they make me wake up crying or just plain sad. I care about them so much,but I’m just, not good enough and I know I’ll never be. if only I can get rid of dreams. they make life, interesting to an extent which I’m kinda happy about but fuck, how annoying at times

I’m glad they care about me though but I don’t think it’s the way I do and probably will never be. if only I wasn’t in such deep shit when we met maybe things would be, better? I was, in a different mindset though and I wouldn’t want it back at all..

either way, it’s so silly to think about.. pshhh, I’m sure they want a future with me. out of all the other abled and ‘beautiful’ people, me? yeahhhh. I can only dream, which is very exhausting yet very exhilarating, mmm

I can’t share it with them, these.. dreams. we sort of did before, but that was differentish sort of time. it’s a bit embarrassing tbh. pretty deep and Idont want to scare anyone away or ruin something like always with my ‘unpleasant’ thoughts

-

I feel so lonely and tired.. daily. 24/7 on this train of life?

even if I’m surrounded by the same, lovely small group of friends.. I’m still just, so lonely.

I know I’m not in some ways,but it just feels like that. I feel like, I’ll just grow to be a lonely ass loser bc of my conditions. it’s a lot for anyone to handle.. or so I’ve been told

I keep going to sleep at super late times and waking up when it’s after 3-4. sometimes being woken up earlier if someone has to do errand. I feel so exhausted and the pain varies daily within my body. so, that also affects my mood..

my insomnia is getting worse it seems and I don’t think my pills are working they way they should anymore when it comes to knocking my ass out..

they are in ways but in others I feel, hopeless. I might have to up my prescription or not, but we’ll see come appointment day and all

I think I’m suffering from something other than just anxiety, depression and slight ptsd.. time will tell as I’ve said, hopefully, whats wrong with me.. some days I just don’t feel like myself and all and I just, want to go away to somewhere where I won’t bother anyone ever. it’s, tiring but I must know or else I’ll truly go insane i feel whic, I don’t want to burden on anyone

-

I’m worried about my dog and dad with their health issues, even my mom.. what am I gonna do when they’re gone?? there is always somethings bad happening it seems every damn week. I know I can’t control it, but what am I going to if it does come down to that?? where am I gonna go? who’s gonna take care of me??

I feel like I’m getting abandoned or that I will be. that I’ll left behind on some days bc it’s too much.. I’m ‘too much’ it’s ridiculous

I shouldn’t be thinking about this but I am. they’re all I have and then no one after. I- I’m so lost , sighhhhh😪

-

I’m sexually frustrated and there’s absolutely nothing I can do ,but linger and lie in my own reckless thoughts.

I can’t touch myself as some may think I doand I’m not gonna ask for help with this bc I’m an annoying fuck of a person imo.

like, I’m just left here. sitting and trying so hard at times to not think about these thoughts. it’s a bit difficult though and I hate it. especially with someone I know is just, wayyy out of my league.. I, think they feel the same but I don’t know and I’m deathly afraid to even ask.

the old ableist sort of mindset I had made me sick yet it made me a courageous lil bitch. I’m, slowly trying to get that attitude back and without the help of being on my liquid grape death line

these thoughts hurt me more than ever though tbh.. I get so embarrassed trying to even say anything like that. it’s natural to be like this but at this level when I was never?? makes my heart race faster than my chair

well, I know why but it just makes me so sad and angry a bit. sad I cannot do anything I’d like and making it up in scenarios doesn’t do it right.. it does but I want more and to not be able to do that, makes me start to get angry. at myself that is. so, I stop and then I make things awkward it seems as always when I’m trying not to be. I’m not even experienced in this field much and I act like I am. maybe? but who knows

sometimes I’m not even sexually frustrated.

it’s just the urge to be held and hold someone close. (actually hold someone and not the way I do now..) just, feel their warmth and soft heartbeat as I lay on them gently to sleep.. mm I’ll, never have that. all the, lovey romantic bits and all that everyone daydreams about.. I can’t do or barely..

makes me cry

-

I feel disgusted at my own body and I want to scream. not gonna bc I don’t want to hurt my throat and fuck up my singing which helps me calm down and me myself. anyways,,,

I can’t look at myself in the mirror and i hate how big it is.. when I get into my room, it’s right there.

I can’t avoid it and when I do, I still end up seeing it or myself that is. I can’t close my eyes or even cover. not gonna run into anything but my image it seems.

I’m not, cute or anything of the sort.. every time I get told that I get so flustered and say something mean it seems when I’m not.

I would get compliments but some where not so generous..

I don’t want to ask as well every time if it is but it’s hard to tell.

even with genuine people

when I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t feel that. I just feel the bad comments and I can’t help that.. believe me, I want to try and make myself believe I’m beautiful and all. just, not going so well and it’s not a topic you want to bring up or can so easily.

every one of my friends are gorgeous, extremely handsome. just,plain beautiful beings. me? idk, maybe but it doesn’t seem like that. feels like I’m full of myself. people of plus size being aren’t held up to that and if it is, it some sort of fetish.

it’s pretty hard for me to tell who’s being genuine I swear. it’s fucking awful but it’s not my fault I was made fun of. couldn’t even fight back and if I did I’d be in some serious trouble or possibly in the hospital or dead .-.

ughhhhhhhhh

I’ve already descibed some of my bdd issues which I know no one read and knows much besides my therapist and case workers ._.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

A Joan Bright character study. Assume Joan takes a less passive approach to Damien’s influence in her life. Assume she’s sitting in her car with the engine running and he’s on the sidewalk in front of her. Assume there’s six months between this moment and the moment she first met him. (ao3)

PRESENT DAY:

He’s not very careful.

Why would he be careful? No one would ever hurt him, right? Ever. How could they bear to bring him harm?So he’s walking to the beach alone at night, cutting through the bad part of town. Joan wonders if chemicals have an effect on his power; if she drugged him or got him drunk or just hit him over the head, would he not be able to focus enough? Or would his panic make him stronger? Could she disable him? If so, what then?Dope him and… then what, Batwoman? Keep him tied up in your basement?

Give him to the AM.

Give him to Ellie.

Ellie would tear him apart. Easy. She’d disassemble the mechanics of his personality at a glance. She’d crack him open and engineer his brutal deconstruction. His reconstruction. His surgically designed weaponization and... Joan grips the steering wheel and watches Damien’s back. He’s drinking a soda, watching a bonfire from the edge of the parking lot. He’s illuminated by the street lamp, dressed in the same jeans he was wearing during his session. But the jacket is nicer. Not the hoodie he wore to see her. Is he trying to look normal?

She thinks about running him down. Let’s the idea live in her for a while. Let’s it breathe.

(Not here though. This isn’t the opportunity. A road somewhere, a lonely curve of highway along a guardrail or a wall. It takes so little trauma to break the fragile machines that keep a heart beating, a brain lit up. Bleeding out internally, ribs crushed along the flank -- that would do it. Make it solid hit and run. It would have to be done right the first time. There would be no circling back.)

He’s leaning against a wood fence. A man passing him toward the beach stops and turns to talk to him. Damien glances at the man, shakes his head. The man’s expression in the lamp light is confused and a little desperate. He’s got a beer in one hand. Tipsy. She can’t see what Damien’s response is with his back to— what the hell? The other man drops his beer and yanks Damien forward, gripping his head, thumbs hooked up behind his jaw. He pulls Damien into what looks like a sloppy but violent kiss, drawing in close, hungry, almost frantic… which looks especially terrifying compared to Damien’s complete and utter unresponsiveness. Damien stands rigid, hands clenched, jaw tight, shoulders set back until—

The man lets go abruptly. Damien just stares at him.

Joan watches the drunk man’s expression resolve into confusion, then mortification.

He mouths, “I’m sorry. God. Sorry.” And then he stumbles up the beach.

Damien bends down and picks up his dropped soda can from the sand. He stays crouching down there for a while, hair sticking up where the man gripped and pulled it. Eventually, he takes a drink of soda, swishes it around, and spits it out. He tosses the can onto the beach and walks away from the beach back toward the main road. She waits, then puts her car in gear and follows.

SESSION ONE:

Sarah lets him in without a scheduled appointment, something which Joan does not largely tolerate except in the most urgent of circumstances. This means, either the client has expressed intent to hurt themselves or something has set off Sarah’s remarkable intuition as to a person’s need or vulnerability. (Joan particularly trusts Sarah’s intuition. Sarah’s intuition is top notch.)

So she’s willing to give the benefit of the doubt when a man in jeans and a hoodie steps through the door of her office and quietly closes it behind him. This would be less suspicious if he weren’t doing everything physically possible to look suspicious—keeping his head down, wearing his hood over his eyes, standing there slowly looking around her office as though taking stock of exits and entrances. Joan posits a few possibilities paranoia, hypervigilance, social anxiety, or (especially since Sarah let him in without an appointment) perhaps even suicidal intent.

Joan, still seated in her arm chair, says, “Hello.”

The man at the door slides his hands into his pockets.

“Hey.” He keeps his head down. “You’re… a therapist right?”

“I am. I’m Doctor Joan Bright.”

“I’m Damien.”

“Damien. Nice to meet you. You’re not on my schedule, but Sarah says you have an emergency of sorts?” Joan waits, hoping he’ll volunteer information.

He does not.

“She wouldn’t elaborate, so I have to assume it’s fairly serious. Are you thinking of harming yourself or others, Damien?”

“Huh? Oh… uh.” He shrugs and starts walking around the room. “Yeah. I guess.”

Joan notes it: the slight surprise, almost as if he’s bored. He’s lying. He’s not suicidal; he just wanted in the door. Strange. Unless she’s missing something, her gut says he’s a tourist of some kind, or…

“I’m glad you came in today then, Damien. I want you to know that you’re safe here. You can talk to me.” She waits to see how this lands with her new client. When he continues to simply pace the perimeter of her office, she maintains a gentle tone and rejoins, “Would you like to sit down?”

He’s picking a book off her shelf by the window. “I’m okay.”

Joan stands up. “Then I hope you don’t mind if I stretch my legs too?”

He turns his head. When he does this, she gets a good look at his face and the bland look of surprise. Quick assessment: Between twenty-five and thirty years of age (Mark’s age, he’s about Mark’s age.) but he seems young somehow. Or maybe it’s just the expression he’s making, or his haircut (unkempt, dark, curling in his eyes a little, a kind of teenager-like disregard for personal appearance). Doesn’t look like he washed his hair or his face today—a possible sign of depression or something else? Hoodie is old, worn, holes cut into the wrist for his thumbs. (Comfort clothes; it looks like he slept in them.) Jeans are also worn in, almost threadbare. Shoes are expensive.

He says, “Sure, Doc.”

“What brought you here today, Damien?” Joan hooks her hands behind her back and paces slightly, not toward him but idly around the room, mirroring him. “Did you want to talk?”

“Kinda. I’m just, you know, lost and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Joan repeats, tone measured.

He grins. “Ah, you’re gonna call me on it right away.”

Joan maintains eye contact, silently watching until he’s ready to speak.

“I wanna talk,sure. But I don’t think I’ll feel comfortable doing that until I know a bit about you.”

“I see.” (She internally notes the manipulation -- a function of narcissism, a defense mechanism, or something else.) “Well, I don’t usually sign new clients like this, Damien, but I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt. If you needed to speak to someone this badly, then it must be important to you.” Joan stops pacing, sliding her hands into the pockets of her pantsuit.

Damien’s watching her, waiting.

“This practice is about a year old. My credentials are listed on the way in, and I have references if you’d like to check them. However, my personal information is not necessarily useful to your recovery. Does that make sense?”

“But how can I trust you if I don’t know anything about you?”

“I’m a professional. You can trust me with anything. I’m legally bound to protect your secrets, barring any major crimes, past or future…”

“Nah. Not a major crimes kinda guy.”

“Then you should have nothing to fear from me.”

“Can you tell me something about you though? Your favorite color?”

“I could tell you that, of course, but to what end, Damien? My personal life is not important or relevant to helping you. It could even be distracting or detrimental.”

Damien tilts his head at her. He’s facing her now, one of her books open in his hand, but he’s looking directly at her. Maintaining fearless eye contact. Surprising. She wouldn’t have thought he’d be the eye contact sort.

“Most therapists will tell you that it’s not appropriate… to…”

His eyes are very dark. Very focused. Joan blinks.

“Um…”

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“No I just… Blue. My favorite color is blue.”

“Cool.”

“Damien, I should be up front. I specialize in… a very specific field of psychology. Did you… find me in the paper? Most of my clients do.”

“Nah. You were listed in the business registry.”

“Ah. Then, maybe I can refer you to a more general practice?”

“No, I like you. I want to talk. You’re… well, you have a little backbone.”

“How so, Damien? What makes you say that?”

“The other therapists. They just told me whatever they thought I wanted to hear.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Therapy is often an imprecise practice. A process. You shouldn’t let that discourage you, though.It’s just a matter of finding someone with the right approach. Perhaps someone to challenge your positions? Provide contrast?”

He thinks about it. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“I have a list of very tough customers I could refer you to.”

“I’m a bit… wary of new therapists to be honest. The last couple were pretty fucked up.”

Joan mentally backs up a step, re-assessing Damien’s tone and previous statements. “Are you saying that your previous therapists were inappropriate, Damien?”

He shrugs. “Some of them.”

“I… I’m very sorry to hear that. Do you want to discuss that?”

“Huh? Oh, wait, no, no, no. Like, not like that. They didn’t do anything, just… said things.”

“Nevertheless, I can see why you might be hesitant to trust another professional in my field if so many have disappointed you previously. Do you think there’s a reason so many therapists are unable to help you?”

“I have that effect.”

“Can you unpack that? What do you mean?”

“People make bad decisions around me. They can’t help it. Even pros like you.”

Joan considers the possibility that he’s lying, sets it aside. “You persuade people into bad decisions? Or you feel there’s some quality you possess that causes people to act a certain way?”

“A bit of both honestly. I definitely goad people into it sometimes, but a lot of times people just… do what they do because I’m there. Even when I’m not trying.”

“Damien, other people’s behavior is not your responsibility. If people behave badly, then they make that decision themselves. You are not responsible for other people’s actions—only your own. Some things are our fault, and we should take responsibility for them. But not everything is our fault. Knowing where your personal responsibility for others ends and begins is crucial to understanding your place in the world.”

Damien’s staring at her. He looks surprised again, but in a tired way.

“Yeah, I’d love to know that,” he says.

She’s struck a nerve of some kind. She presses a little, gently.

“Do you blame yourself for the actions of others?”

“No. It’s their fault. I don’t do anything. I’m just there.”

“Does it upset you? What people do around you?”

“I mean, I guess, kinda, if they do something really bad. But hey, it’s not my fault. Like you said, people do what they do, and I’m not responsible.”

“That’s not exactly what I said. I said there a limit to our responsibility in the actions of others. You said that people sometimes do bad things around you? Like what?”

“I… I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. What would you like to talk about?”

“You.”

“Very well. What do you want to know?”

Damien is leaning against her desk, the one in front of the windows, by her bookshelves. She doesn’t… like that’s he’s doing that.

“Would you like to sit down?” She gestures toward the armchairs in the middle of the room. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Sure, Doctor B.”

He pushes away from the desk and moves across the room. She sits in her arm chair and watches him drop as if boneless into the seat across from her. There’s a coffee table between them, with a pitcher of water and a stack of paper cups on top of it. A box of tissues. A tiny wicker basket with knickknacks for fidgeters. A few stress balls. A tiny stuffed panda. Damien examines the contents of the wicker basket, and Joan examines him.  He slouches, knees apart, elbows on the arm of the chair. Very… open. Disrespectful, in her opinion. Deliberately too casual. He’s trying too hard.

“So tell me,” he says before she can say anything. “Why did you want to be a psychologist?”

“Damien, I don’t think…”

Joan stops, jolted by a sudden unexpected longing , almost painful in its intensity. Like a wire around her heart. She blinks, laying a palm against her thigh for a moment, hoping it will pass like nausea, like a headache, like any other myriad passing passions but it persists. It persists . Why? What is --? She looks up.

Damien smiles at her.

“Well, I like knowing how people tick. The human mind is interesting, how it responds to the world. I’ve always loved seeing what people do and puzzling out why they do it. I’m particularly fascinated by human responses to extreme situations and unusual circumstances. The human capacity for evolution and adaptation is incredible, and nothing makes me appreciate the world quite like finding those new and strange ways that our species keeps changing.”

Damien laughs. “Wow. That’s way more interesting than the others.”

“Thank you, but what do you mean?”

“All the other shrinks said dumb shit, like how they thought crazy people were interesting, they didn’t know to do after college, or they just like helping people. Heh. A couple said they kinda get off on knowing people’s, like, deepest fuckin’ fears and traumas and stuff. You’re the only one who said something interesting. I like ya, Doc.”

“That’s… your therapists said that to you?”

“Yeah.”

“They admitted to enjoying their patients’ pain?”

“Oh yeah, one schmuck almost got a woody just talking about it. I left pretty quick.”

“Damien, that’s horrific. I can’t imagine why a therapist would tell you something like that. That’s incredibly inappropriate, not to mention traumatizing for a patient! You should be able to trust that your therapist has your best interests at heart.”

“Aw, you’re nice.”

“I’m serious. What that therapist did was completely unethical. If you want, I could help you make a complaint to the licensing board.”

“Nah. I don’t think he’ll have a career much longer. He may or may not have reported himself before I left. I call that my good deed for the month. Plus, he said some really gross shit to me so, like, fuck that guy.”

“Wait, he… confessed to what he did? Why?”

Damien picks the panda up from her coffee table. “He wanted to.”

“I don’t… understand. You just implied you had something to do with it. Did you convince him to confess?”

“Don’t worry about it, Doctor B. Why don’t you tell me about your most interesting patient?” He tosses the panda like a softball from hand to hand. “You said you specialize in abnormal psychology, right? Gotta be some cool stories there.”

“I… that breaks confidentiality. I can’t talk about any of my current or previous patients.”

“Ah, but I can tell you want to. C’mon. I won’t tell. Besides, you want me to trust you right?”

“I do. I… okay.” Joan sits forward, smoothing the fabric of her pants a little to fold her hands on her knees. “Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk to about this kind of thing... My most interesting client came in suffering from a high-level control loss of… let’s call it a skill. She would often find herself involuntarily using her ability and causing great harm to others.”

“Like… wait, what do you mean? Was she like a sleepwalking martial artist?”

Joan laughs. “Kind of. That’s a good analogy. Let’s go with that.”

He grins. “Okay.”

“You mentioned sleepwalking. That’s actually the interesting thing. We found that she practiced lucid dreaming, you see. She had personal fantasies about using her abilities on people but would never actually do so in reality. So, she instead trained herself to dream lucidly so she could act out her desires while asleep and never harm anyone.”

“She… had fantasies about hurting people?”

“She was a detective. Several criminals were able to evade punishment, and it made her very angry. She wanted to kill and hurt these men, but she knew it was wrong, so she instead channeled her rage into fantasy. When she realized what she was doing, her guilt only escalated the incidents. She became self-destructive. To resolve the involuntary sleepwalking, we had to work through her anger and guilt. She was… is a remarkable woman. She’s gotten her life back, and I’m proud to say is out there doing an exemplary job once again.”

“Whoa. That’s fuckin’ cool, Doctor B.”

“Yes. One of my favorite cases, like I said. It’s been a while since I talked about it.”

“Don’t shrinks have shrinks?”

“Yes, but not me.” She sees Ellie, suddenly, looking at her from across a desk. Her smile. Familiar. Warm. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Joan shakes her head slightly. “It’s impossible now.”

“Why?”

“My work is too sensitive, and those who are available and qualified to be my therapist... I could never trust them. It’s a conundrum.”

“Sound lonely.”

“I… I suppose. Yes.”

“You know…” Damien props his chin in one hand, elbow on the arm of his chair. “You can talk to me if you want, Doctor Bright.”

“I shouldn’t. I… don’t think I should have told you that story.”

“Just don’t use names. Besides, don’t you want someone to talk to?”

“I do.” Christ, do I want to. “But this goes against my code.”

“Huh… wow. You must feel really strongly about that.” Damien clears his throat and sits forward, as if giving her his full attention. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to me about it? I mean… you said how nice it was right? It’s been a while. I mean, I like listening, and I think it might help, you know, with my recovery or whatever. Like reverse therapy or something.”

“I’m glad to hear you’d like to be a patient here but we’ve only just met, and I’m not sure I’m the appropriate psychologist for you. Like I said, I’m very specialized.”

“Like… what? Psychopaths? Trauma victims?”

“No. My specialization is people with… unusual circumstances. What I do is akin to being an in-house psychologist for, say, covert operatives for the government. There are some things my patients can only tell me; no other therapist would have the experience to help them cope with their unique experiences.”

“That’s interesting. A bit vague though…”

“I can’t share any other details about my practice.”

“Whoa.” Something ghosts the corner of his mouth. Almost a smile, not quiet. “Hard stop on that. Nice.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Why can’t you tell me?”

“I… don’t get me wrong. I want to tell you. A lot, actually… but I can’t. It would endanger my other patients and, potentially, even you. What I know and with whom I work is very complicated.”

Damien frowns. “It could endanger me?”

“Yes, if someone found out I had told you anything. I am truly sorry for sharing what I already did. I don’t know why I…”

“Don’t worry about it, Doctor B. So, wait, you’re like a shrink for… cops and secret agents or something?”

“Or something.”

“Iiiiiinteresting. So like, real black ops stuff?”

“In a way, yes. That’s why I’m reluctant to share too much. That and, again , therapeutic confidentiality.”

“Yeah, you’re really hung up on that stuff.”

“I would love to help you, Damien, but again my specialty isn’t –”

“Don’t worry about that; just be my doctor. I think you want to.”

“I… you’re not… well, I guess I could make an exception. If other therapists have failed you so completely, maybe something different would be good. I could… yes. I suppose I could be your therapist. Maybe pro bono work, since you fall outside my usual client base?”

“Capital idea. Thanks, Doctor B. You’re an angel.”

“No trouble at all. I… yes, I want to.”

“Hey, it’s been real. Why don’t I get something on Sarah’s schedule and we’ll do this again?”

“Of course.” Joan stands up, smiling. “It was good to meet you. Until then.”

“Yeah. Until then.”

    SESSION TWO:

“What is this, Damien?”

“Hanger steak with red wine sauce. I made too much.”

Joan stares, perplexed, while Damien digs around the interior of a brown paper shopping bag and unearths a series of tin-foil covered plates, still radiating heat and wafting faintly the scent of red meat and shallots. He shoves the other things on her coffee table aside to make room and sets a plate down in front of her, then one in front of him. He digs again, produces what appear to be napkin-wrapped silverware. Her office smells mouth-watering within seconds.

“Damien.”

He ignores her.

Damien removes the tin foil from both plates and sits down cross-legged on the other side of the coffee table. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that says, neutrally, FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK with his torn jeans and boots. He looks a little healthier lately, like he’s showering. His skin a little darker. Less oily. Like he’s getting sun. He starts stabbing the fragrant hollandaise-dripped asparagus with a real silver fork and eating it with a kind of joyless focus.

Joan watches him chew in silence for about thirty seconds.

“Damien, what are you doing?”

“Eating. Like I said, I made too much.” He pours himself a cup of water from her ice-water pitcher on the table. “I can talk and eat at the same time, you know.”

“I refuse to believe you don’t know how strange this is.”

“I do, but I made too much. Seems a shame to waste a $200 piece of meat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He gives her a look .

Suddenly it seems essential she at least try it. Joan picks up the extra set of silverware and spears a small cut of steak from the edge of the plate, tapping it gently to wipe away the excess red sauce. She’s in a skirt and heels and therefore refuses to sit on the floor. She just leans forward in her arm chair and carefully takes a single bite and chews. She pours herself a cup of water and drinks that.

“Well?” Damien says.

“It’s good,” she replies. That’s an understatement. It’s quite good, but she’s annoyed with him.

“Honestly?”

“Yes, Damien. Honestly. But if I’m being entirely honest, this is highly irregular. I would prefer if you didn’t bring food to our sessions like this. Coffee is one thing but this… is distracting.”

She stares at him.

He stares back.

She pokes her fork at another bite. “I will eat, but you need to tell me a little more about how you’re doing. If we’re going to have an honest dialogue, then we should start with the basics.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How about you tell me a summary of yourself? If you had to quickly summarize what and who you are and only had a few sentences, how would you do that? Or does that exercise sound impossible?”

He thinks about it. “I do whatever I want.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, if I had to sum it up. I do whatever I want.”

Joan looks at the expensive food on her coffee table, somewhat drily. “Do you think that habit has a negative impact on your life or does this perceived freedom make you happy?”

Damien laughs, loudly. “Oh, fuck no, it doesn’t make me happy.”

Joan notes that. Sounded real that time, less posturing condescension. She would hazard it’s the first honest thing he’s said.

She sits forward. “Most people would say that the freedom to do whatever they want is a life goal, a dream. You’re saying you feel that you’ve achieved this, but it’s not fulfilling? You’re not happy?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugs, jamming another asparagus into his mouth.

“Do you know what would make you happy, Damien?”

He rotates the fork between his fingers, the tines making an unpleasant whining sound against the plate. “I dunno. Never thought about it really.” He stops spinning the fork. “I guess it would be nice to talk to someone about this stuff. Not, you know, a therapist. I mean, someone who gets it. Who could do stuff with me.”

“Do don’t have friends or family you can confide in?”

“No.”

“Do you feel lonely then, Damien?”

“That’s a bit dramatic. I just get bored.”

“Hmm. This is not universally true, but generally people want people to feel things for them, to knowledge their experiences. Understand them. It’s difficult to feel understood when we feel alone. Do you think having others who understood you… might make you happier?”

Damien looks annoyed. “So I’m sad because I’m lonely. That’s your prognosis?”

“No, Damien. I’m still getting to know you. I wouldn’t claim to know why you feel the way you do. I’m hoping we can figure that out.” Joan pauses a moment, then sits forward to pick up her fork and eat a bit of asparagus. “You said you weren’t happy. I didn’t assume you were sad simply because of that.”

“If you’re not fuckin’ happy, you’re sad, Doc.”

“Not always. It’s possible to simply be neutral. Not distressed, but… perhaps unchallenged or listless. When I first met you, you said you were ‘lost’. Now, that might have just been touch of sarcasm on your part…” She meters this with smile to assure him she’s mostly joking. “But I have to ask: do you feel that you’re just a little directionless or… do you actually feel sad?”

“I’m not sad. I’m frustrated.” He’s speaking with his mouth full. He takes a minute to chew and swallow. “Every year or so, I get sick of just doing things on my own and try to… talk someone. It’s like I’ve got fuckin amnesia. Like it’s gonna be different this time. But in the end, no one really wants to be around me, they just… reflect. It’s hard to give a shit about people when they’re just, like, parroting your own fuckin thoughts back at you, right?”

Joan frowns, dipping a bit of steak in hollandaise. “You’re saying you’re good at… persuading people to your point of view? Am I understanding right?”

He laughs a little, propping his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the coffee table. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“Do you think you’re looking for someone to challenge you then?”

He frowns. “Never thought about it like that but… sure. Yeah.”

“You said ‘every year or so’. Are you saying you don’t talk to people very much or in depth because they disappoint you? Do you mean that literally or…?”

“I don’t literally not talk to people for years. Maybe… months at a time. Sometimes.”

“Can I challenge you not to do that, Damien?”

He blinks at her. “What do you mean?”

“You might be surprised or comforted to know that is a very common sentiment to feel misunderstood or alone.” Joan shrugs. “Connecting with people can be… difficult. It can be very hard to find like-minded individuals who understand us. In fact, not everyone even requires the company or validation of others to be happy or fulfulled, but generally humans are social animals. I’d hazard it’s not healthy to shut off human connection like that. Unless you feel otherwise? That being alone makes you happier or calmer?”

“I don’t have social anxiety, Doc. Society just doesn’t hold a lot of appeal for me.”

“Society seldom holds appeal for many people, Damien. It’s usually the individuals we find within the whole of society that make societal contracts worth keeping. Developing trust takes time and effort. Earning confidence and a view into the private face of others… that’s hard. That does not mean we should give up on seeking those connections.”

“So it’s my fault no one understand me because I don’t talk to enough people?”

“No, but I would submit it’s hard to get to know people if you shut yourself up for months.”

“Doc, you might not be understanding how difficult it is for someone like me to find… uh, common ground with others. My odds are lower than the average schmuck.”

“What do you mean?”

“There just aren’t people like me.”

“What do you mean? People who feel lonely? People who like to cook expensive food and bring the left over to their therapists?” She levels a look at him when he smirks. “People with dark hair? People who are frustrated or misunderstood or play… I don’t know, video games? Do you play video games?”

He snorts. “Sure. Who doesn’t?”

“Yes, precisely. Who doesn’t? I would hazard there are things about you that are very unique, combinations of experience and facets of emotion that are singular to you and in that… yes, you may be alone. Truly. So is everyone. That fact is there are many more things that make us similar and, perhaps, focusing on that may make the world seem less… hostile.”

“That’s pretty good advice, Doctor B. Not sure it applies to my… particular situation.” He folds his arms on the table and drops his chin onto them, staring up at her. “You ever take it yourself?”

“I like to think so.”

“Hmm, really though?”

Joan means to say that it hardly matters what she does, but she she says is, “No, not really. I do not maintain a social life outside of my therapy work. I find it useless.” Then, because the words have escaped and she cannot grab them and stuff them back in her mouth where her damn patient can’t hear them… she clears her throat. “But… that does not mean you should do what I do. I find solitude relaxing. I have never needed much company.”

Damien grins. “ Really , though?”

“Well, actually, I would prefer the company of like-minded people, but like I said, it’s hard to find them.” Joan attempts to end the sentence there, but additional color bubbles up. “Or rather, those I’ve found who are like-minded are also awful people who I wouldn’t spend a single solitary minute with unless forced at hypothetical gunpoint.” She sits there, vaguely aware of a headache forming behind her eyes. “I honestly don’t know why I told you that. I don’t imagine you found that helpful.”

Damien’s grin is ear to ear. “Ohhh, I dunno. I feel a lot better.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t. It’s nice to know my therapist is human… and that fortune cookie advice about love and friendship should be taken with a grain of salt.”

“All advice should have a grain of salt with it.” Joan sighs. “I did not at all mean to imply that my personal habits are in anyway something you should model. My isolationist tendencies are not one of my better qualities, Damien.”

“Sure, Doctor B.”

“Damien, while I may not follow my own advice, that does not mean it’s not sound advice. It simply means I’m not currently in a position to follow it. Perhaps I will in the future. You are not me. You can make moves to change your circumstances immediately if you would like to. It’s your decision to make.”

“Yeah, I’ll just walk out there and because I’m thinking positive, things will be fine.”

“No. But if you walk out there and try, the odds improve that you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“Sounds like bullshit, Doc.”

Joan sits back folding her hands. “Don’t knock it until you try it, Damien.”

“I have tried. I told you.”

“And I hate to be honest, but you will need to keep on trying.”

“So why don’t you? What’s stopping you , Doc?”

“What I do is not important. You shouldn’t fixate on… on what I’m…” Joan closes her eyes, exhales through her nose. “Actually, the reason I don’t maintain friendships presently is simply that there is no one else out there I can share my secrets with. Any relationship I have would be a pretense based on my forever screening them from a part of my life that is absolutely core to myself. What I do, my work -- I love my work. I would even say it defines me. And yet, I cannot talk about it. So what is the point?”

Damien smiles. He stands up. He grabs his jacket and says, “I know right?”

Then he walks out of her office. He does, however, book another session for later in the month.

Joan buys a bottle of very expensive scotch later that evening.

    SESSION FIVE:

Joan is looking for her car keys when it occurs to her.

“I think he stole my panda.”

Sarah, seated at the front desk looking immaculately put together and focused on her work, looks up from her day planner and says, “Oh no. Mr. Black-Black?”

Joan looks up from her purse. “The stuffed panda does not have a name.”

“Yes, he does. It’s Mr. Black-Black. Who stole him?”

“Damien, I think.”

“Ugh. Of course.”

Joan gives Sarah a look .

“Sorry. He drives me crazy. He missed his appointment today. Again . No courtesy call. And, you know, the first time he came in… I’m pretty sure he said that suicide line because I’m legally obligated to send him back if he makes that kind of threat. Also: I’ve never messed up patient’s paperwork like that before. I don’t know where my brain goes when he starts talking to me. It’s aggravating. So I find him aggravating. He’s ruined my reputation as the perfect secretary.”

“Nonsense. This place would burn to the ground without you.”

“I know, Joan. I’m essential. That doesn’t mean I have to like him.” Sarah sips her early-evening latte. Her perfect fingernails sparkle iridescent in the waiting room light. “Didn’t he show up to his last session late with fast food then literally leave before you even sat down?”

“McDonalds. He has thing with food, I… Nevermind. Just try to get his information down next time.”

“Joan. Sorry.” Sarah grimaces, nose wrinkling. “Could you ask him to fill it out? I… I am serious about my not being able to focus around him. It’s been twice in a row. Maybe if you do it, he won’t circle around the issue? I know it’s literally my job but I genuinely can’t seem to get it together when he walks in. He kind of blows right by me.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re that worried about it.” Joan frowns at the little purple orchid on Sarah’s desk. Sarah, immutable and unflinching Sarah, can’t get a patient to fill out basic paperwork. It makes something… squirm in her brain. “Give me the intake sheet. I’ll get him to fill it out next time he’s in.”

Sarah hands it over, slowly. “Are you okay, Joan?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. You just seem like maybe you need someone to ask that question. Barring that, is there anything I can do? Get scented candles for the office? Pick up more of your favorite tea?” She smiles brightly, having reached the end of her ‘sensible and pragmatic’ list. “Set you up with a smoking hot yoga instructor?”

Joan plucks the file from Sarah’s fingers, a smile twitching at her mouth. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No. I’m saying you deserve nice things.”

“Appreciated. No thank you. You could, perhaps, pick up more flowers for around the waiting room. I think a few of my patients like them.”

“No, Joan. I was asking what things you like.”

“I like making my patients more comfortable.”

“Fine. But I’m getting you those little scone things you like.”

“Very well.”

Sarah pumps her fist once, minutely, in victory. “Yes.”

“I’m going to tidy up a few things before I head home. If you want to go, just flip the sign on your way out.”

“Okay. Don’t stay late. Go home and relax.”

“Have a good evening, Sarah.”

Joan smiles and makes to turn back to her office, stopping when she hears Sarah in the hall.

She’s saying, loudly, “Oh, uh, you’re late.”

Joan turns in time to see Damien – dressed in black, holding a Starbucks cup in one hand, grinning – set his hand against the door by Sarah’s shoulder and push it open a little wider. When he does this, he briefly comes in slightly too close in the process before stepping past Joan’s secretary into the foyer. Sarah, who looks down at Damien when in flats and presently sports a pair of platform pumps, glares down at him from her impressive tower of pink sweater vested dislike. She folds her arms, making to follow him.

“I can reschedule you. We’re closed.”

Joan sets her purse down behind Sarah’s desk and tucks her notebook under her arm, waiting, brow arched.

Damien, entering the waiting room, smiles at her. “Hey, Doctor B.”

“You’re late. This office is closed.”

“Not to me, surely.”

“Don’t call her Shirley,” says Sarah automatically then looks sorry when Joan shoots her a look. “Doctor Bright, do you want me to stay? I can stay.” She’s headed toward her post behind the desk already. “It’s fine,” she says.

“No, Sarah. It’s okay.” Joan gives Damien a long sideways stare. “I will close up. It’s not a problem.”

Sarah takes her seat anyway, picking up a pen. “I have some work I want to finish.”

Joan, who knows Sarah has no work whatsoever to finish, nods neutrally. “If you feel strongly about it. Then okay.”

Sarah nods, eyes Damien, then goes back to scribbling something on a sticky note.

“Your secretary seems… defensive,” says Damien, once they’re safely in Joan’s office. He takes a seat in his usual armchair and has a long sip of whatever he’s drinking. The name on the cup says, Katie. “She not like me?”

“She doesn’t like it when patients are late or don’t call ahead.” Joan takes her seat across from Damien and tugs the intake sheet from the folder beneath her arm, shaking it out. “You didn’t fill out your paperwork last time. Please do so.” She slides the paper and a pen across the coffee table. “If you want to be my patient, I need you on file.”

Damien continues drinking Katie’s Starbucks order, looking at the paper but making no move to fill it out.

“Is there something wrong?” Joan says, crossing her legs and waiting.

“Nah. Sure thing.” Damien sits forward, sets his drink down and scribbles some info down on in the blank spaces. He finishes with unlikely speed, then sits back and picks his drink up again. From the faint scent, it’s some variety of cloyingly sweet mocha something. He shrugs. “There ya go.”

Joan picks up the paper. “You didn’t put your full name... or your address.”

He shrugs again. “Problem?”

“I… no. Actually, it’s fine.”

“Great. Hey, doc, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Damien, can we talk about your tardiness before we move on? You were supposed to come in at three today. It’s almost five thirty now. Is there a reason you couldn’t make your usual time?”

“I just got caught up with something. You don’t mind do you?”

“No, I don’t mind. I think we’ve established that you’re… not entirely like the rest of my patients, but I would prefer if you give Sarah a courtesy call when you can’t make your appointments. You can inconvenience me, but not my staff. Is that understood?”

Damien smirks. “So you admit I’m special?”

“No, Damien, you’re just more high maintenance.”

“Ha!”

“What did you want to talk about today?”

“I dunno.” He studies her. “What do you want to talk about?”

She maintains neutrality. “This is your session, Damien.”

“Yeah, I know, but sometimes I get the feeling you look forward to these talks as much as I do.” He sips his drink then laughs. “Oh, c’mon , Doctor B. You can tell me. I think we’ve established, like you said, that our doctor-patient relationship’s gone a bit sideways. I think it’s a two-way street, yeah?”

Joan sighs.

“Damien, while I admit that I’ve allowed personal information into these conversations -- mostly at your insistence -- the point of these conversations is your mental health and well being. So these sessions are yours. We can talk about whatever you think would be most helpful to discuss. Whatever’s been on your mind.”

“Kay, so you circled around that. Be honest: You like talking to me or not?”

Joan sighs again, more for effect.

“Damien, you are by far my most challenging, demanding, and aggravating patient. You know that. You’ve asked me dozens of times and for whatever reason, I feel you can handle me telling you that.” She lets the statement stand for a moment. Then sits back in her seat, flipping her hair over her shoulder in annoyance. “But, I admit, I can talk more freely to you than I have anyone else in a long time. I personally have no idea why you haven’t gone to another therapist. This is highly unorthodox.”

Damien grins over the top of his Starbucks lid and shrugs. “Hey, even therapists need therapists.”

“You’re not a therapist, Damien.”

“Yeah but… talking about stuff helps, right?”

Joan says nothing for a moment. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Damien’s brow knits slightly. “So… do you actually like talking me or…?”

“Sometimes. Mostly talking to you is frustrating but… I do look forward to a chance to simply be honest about things from time to time.” She shrugs. “This arrangement is beneficial to me, I think. A mutual therapy if you like. I do appreciate your being a sounding board from time to time. It’s helpful.”

“Just kinda unprofessional?”

“Immensely. But you know that.”

He snorts. “Yeah I figured it out after you vented to me about the girl that took all your crayons in third grade or whatever.”

“Ugh, why did I tell you that? Stop derailing me. What did you want to talk about today?”

Damien laughs. Joan… she smirks a little. Later, she lie in bed and driver her car and eat dinner and listen to her notes and all the while, somewhere, eating at her: his question. Do you actually like talking to me or…?  

   SESSION TWENTY:

“You have a brother?”

Joan freezes.

Damien’s looking at her.

It’s eleven ‘o’clock at night and the sky’s gone dark through the windows of her office. Joan stares at her patient for a long moment, then sits back on her seat and runs her fingers through her hair and just stares at the carpet between her shoes because she can’t… She checks her recorder. It’s on. It’s been six hours since she sat down with Damien. His jacket’s lying on the floor by his chair. He’s got one boot up on the edge of the coffee table, sitting slouched in his armchair, a cup of warm tea in his hands. She made a pot around hour three. He’s gone through most of it.

“Um, yes, but that’s… that’s not what I was talking about.”

“Sure, but that fact you’d rather tell me about your shitty ex from grad school and not once mention you have a brother this whole time? Kiiiinda weird, Joan.”

“Don’t… uh, don’t call me Joan, Damien.”

He blinks at her. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously, I would prefer you didn’t.”

“You just told me three stories about dudes you dated through college; their failures as people and as lovers… but you don’t want me using your first name?”

“I… yes, Damien, exactly.” Her face feels hot suddenly. Her palms itch. “I don’t want you using my first name. Can you not?”

A startled look. “Uh, sure. Okay. I won’t.” His brow furrows. “Hit a nerve there, Doctor B?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Hey, I get it. People calling me by the wrong name would piss me off too.”

“Yes, uh, I guess it’s been a long day. It’s getting late. Should we pick this up later or –?”

“So your brother,” Damien says, ignoring her. “He live nearby?”

“No. Let’s not talk about him.”

Damien tilts his head. It makes her spine tighten. “Why not?”

“He’s been away for a long time. He’s sick, actually. I don’t want to talk about him.”

He just looks at her, gaze steady and dark and magnetic.

Joan closes her eyes. It’s still there though, growing in her guts somehow, a weed taking root and blooming words into the back of her mouth – the longing . Desperate and intense. She focuses on her hands, her nails digging sudden crescents of blood into her palms because Damien says ‘your brother’ and she has a vision – warm summer sunlight through the kitchen window, illuminating a bowl of fresh strawberries and a cup of sugar. Granules on the wood. An old backpack on the floor and little boy carefully dipping a berry in the soft white and –

“I miss him.”

Her eyes sting. Joan sits there, mortified, as saline runs molten behind her eyelids and heats the interior of her skull. Her throat aches. Her tongue swells. She cannot breathe around the poisoned organ between her teeth and yet she opens her mouth and goes on, like someone has their hand in her throat and keeps pulling the words out like ribbon from a reel.

“It’s almost been a year and I haven’t seen him.” She presses one hand to her face, her mouth, shaking. She drops it to her lap. To the cushion. She brushes her hair from her face. “I want to see him so badly. No one will let me.” Her cheeks are wet. She’s crying. Oh god . She’s crying. “I can’t talk to anyone about him, Damien. There’s no one I can tell and I just want to tell someone. I want someone to help me. He’s sick and I am trying so hard to help him but there’s no one.” She draws a ragged breath. Vomits up words. “He’s my little brother. He’s my… my responsibility.” Another heave. “I don’t want to do this alone.”

She’s breathing too fast. She can’t. She stands up, presses a palm to her belly.

“You need to go.”

Damien’s staring at her.

“You need to go, Damien. Go right now .”

“You okay, Doctor B?”

“No! I’m not. I don’t know why I told you that.” She turns away, walking toward the desk on the other side of the room. “Why did I say that? What’s wrong with me?”

“Because you wanted to tell someone?” She hears the soft clink of a cup being put down. Boots on the floor. “Because you literally just said you’re all alone with this big fuckin’ secret? Your brother’s sick? No one knows. You gotta take care of him but you can’t? I mean… that’s pretty heavy, Doctor B.” Joan feels Damien standing to her left now, peering at her. “Only makes sense it might come out talking to a friend.”

“You’re not my friend , Damien.” She looks at him just in time to catch a small startled hurt, there for a moment, then gone. “You’re a patient. This is… this is inappropriate.” She drags her hands through her hair, aware of how out of control she’s getting, unable to rein it back. There’s not enough pressure on the planet to staunch the wound she just ripped open for nothing. For no fucking reason at all. “I wasn’t… I didn’t want to talk about him. I can’t talk about Mark. Why did I do that?”

“It’s okay,” Damien says.

“No, it’s not. It’s not…”

“It’s okay that you wanted to talk about it,” Damien says, louder this time. He’s moved to stand in front of her, meet her gaze. He holds his hand palms out, non-threateningly. “Hey. Doc. Listen . It’s okay that you wanted to talk to me. Right? You wanted to talk?”

“I… what is that?”

“What’s what?”

Joan drops her hands from her forehead, feeling dangerous suddenly. Feeling on edge. “You. There’s something about you.”

Damien takes a step back. “I didn’t do anything, Doctor B. Remember? I’m not responsible for –”

“You feel like… like…” She blinks, stops. “ No .”

“Are you okay?”

“What are you?”

He looks afraid. “What?”

“Don’t lie to me. You came looking for me. Did you already know who I was?”

“ What ?”

“What are you? What are you doing? Is this… some kind of empathic projection? What is this?” She starts to reach for Damien’s arm but he jerks back. “Damien. Tell me right now, what are you doing here? Did Green send you? Is this Ellie? Are you one of Ellie’s?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Joan.”

“Don’t call me Joan!” She shoves a palm into his chest. “Are you with them!?”

“ Back off!”

Joan feels static. Goes static. White noise in her head suddenly. She comes back with her hands flat against the spines of many books, the ones across the room. She’s leaning against the bookshelf. She’s missing one heel, like she lost it sprinting away from… She looks slowly over her shoulder, through the now tangled sheaf of her hair, at the young man about Mark’s age standing in front of her desk. He’s looking at her. His expression: dead. Pitiless and empty. A line of sweat runs hot down the back of her neck. Her palms, sticky, she peels from the books and she turns her back slowly to lean against the shelf, bracing against it for support.

She’s gutted, insides out, nerves turned up to the stinging air. Her skull’s got a hole in it and Damien’s got his hand in it. Or he did. Or maybe he does. She can’t be sure. He’s just standing there looking at her and she can feel her skin start to crawl with anticipatory terror. She grips the shelf behind her until her fingers ache.

“Damien,” she says. “You need to get out.”

“You figured it out,” he says.

“Get out, Damien.”

“No. You figured it out. You said…” He shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair, processing. “You didn’t seem surprised about me. Like… like it wasn’t that weird I could do something like this. You’re freaked out, but not… surprised .”

“Just go !”

“You asked what I am?”

“I don’t know what you are.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Joan flinches, feels it now, not subtle like before. A heat suddenly, a shunt of desire like a chemical injection just below her belly and somewhere in her head, like a rising migraine and she wants it. She wants to tell him everything. All of it, pour it all out on the floor and show him every part of it and – She makes a noise, hand coming up instinctively, no protection at all from whatever he’s doing, however he’s reaching through the ether and rattling the insides of her brain. Damien starts to walk toward her.

“ Don’t ! I’ll tell you! Just stop!”

Damien stops just before he reaches the coffee table. The pressure lets up.

“I don’t know what you are. Not exactly. I thought you were… like other people I’ve worked with. You’re… atypical. You can do things most people can’t.”

“I – I’m not the only one?”

“No. There are others. I work with people like you, people with abilities.”

Damien seems shaken. “There are others like me?”

“No. Not like you.” Joan swallows, speaks through her teeth. “I’ve never met someone like you. That’s why it… why it took me so long to realize. You’re doing something. You… make people… Telepaths can’t do that. They can’t…” Joan shakes her head. “I can’t think straight right now. You need to go.”

“No way, Doctor B. I want you to tell me –”

“Damien! Stoppit !”

And to her amazement, he stops. The pressure lets up, he freezes a moment, expression blanking for a moment to surprise. Joan breathes, straightens up, and pushes her hair back from her face, gathering it at the nape of her neck. Then she smooths her button down a little and raises her chin.

“Damien. It’s late. I’ve just… realized that you are, in fact, exactly the kind of patient who should be on my books. My specialty is people with atypical abilities like yours. I wish you’d told me sooner.” I wish you’d never walked through that fucking door. “I have the context now and I am more fully prepared to help you. This is good. This is progress.”

Damien watches her confused and wary.

“If you want to keep talking, then we can do that. Do you… do you want to come back tomorrow? Same time? I can answer your questions then.”

Damien narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you mad?”

“Yes, Damien. I am. That’s why I don’t think we should talk until tomorrow.”

“How do I know you won’t run? Tell the truth.”

Joan grimaces. “I won’t run because if I ever want to see Mark again, I need to keep this practice going. I won’t jeopardize it or my patients just to run away from you .” She breathes in, slowly, then crosses the room and moves to pick Damien’s jacket up off the floor. She steadies herself, turns, and hand it to him. “Come back tomorrow. We’ll have a real talk.”

Damien doesn’t take it immediately. He studies her face, her eyes. Joan keeps holding his jacket out, gaze even.

He takes the jacket from her hand, very deliberately grabbing it so his hand touches hers. She keeps the reactionary scream behind her teeth -- lethal as a bullet.

“Okay. See you then, Doctor B.” He pulls his jacket on, straightening the collar and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Really, lookin’ forward to it.”

She waits until he’s gone.

She waits another two minutes.

Then Joan falls against the armchair and sinks to the floor of her office and lets out that scream.

    SESSION NINE:

“Is that scotch?” Damien says, sitting down. His boot finds her coffee table almost immediately.

Joan glances lazily at the bottle and two glasses on her desk across the office where she is now openly keeping it on display.

“Yes, it is.”

Damien narrows his eyes slightly. “Are… you a little drunk right now?”

“That would be inappropriate.”

“You are. I can feel it.”

She shrugs. “ Oops .”

“Uh, that’s kinda weird, Doc. You sure you should be drinking around me?”

“I’m not drinking around you. I drank last night. And today. The effect is just continuing into now. Which is good, because I feel that I need to be a little drunk to have this conversation.”

Damien snorts and sits back in his seat, taking the moment to look her up and down and fold his hands on his stomach, just above his hips. “You really that mad I didn’t tell you?” He huffs a laugh. “I didn’t even know there were other people like me, much less that you would know anything about it. Why would I tell you?”

“That’s not why I’m angry, Damien.”

“You’re mad I yelled at you? Because you came at me.”

“You honestly don’t know why I’m upset?”

“Because you accidentally told me about Mark?”

“No, Damien, I didn’t accidentally do that. You used your… ability to get me to tell you about Mark, something I was not emotionally prepared to do or obligated by any social contract to do. You extracted deeply personal information about my sick brother from me, Damien. That’s… very cruel of you. I hadn’t thought of you that way until last night.”

Damien glares at her. “Guess you don’t know me very well.”

“No. I know nothing about you, but I get the feeling you want to know everything about my work so, in light of the fact I will have to do this, I’m making it as easy on myself as possible.”

He sits forward to pluck a stress ball from the table. “If you puke on your fancy coffee table, that’s your fault. Not mine.”

“Noted. Did you know it took me until just a few hours ago to rationalize a decent argument as to why you probably won’t rape me?”

Damien stops fiddling with the stress ball and looks at her. “What the fuck ?”

Joan sits back in her seat, hooking one elbow over the back of her chair. “Does that surprise you?”

“That’s fuckin’ gross. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, comforting words from a man who regularly coerces people into doing things they would normally never do and will likely regret later. Who sees no moral issue doing that. Who does it regularly and without any sign he intends to stop. Why would I ever be worried this man, a virtual stranger to me, might do me harm? That’s unheard of in this day and age. I’m clearly irrational.”

Damien doesn’t say anything.

“You understand that what you do… it puts anyone in your radius under a certain level of influence.” Joan’s hands tighten a little, small ligaments tensing. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, doc. I do.”

“Do you care?”

“ Jesus , I don’t do that, Doctor B. Calm down. I’m not stupid.”

“It’s not about stupid; it’s about apathy. If you don’t care about hurting others, why would you let a little thing like consent get in your way? You’ve given me literally no reason to think otherwise. I don’t see why--”

“Because it’s dangerous .” Damien tosses the stress ball on the table, clearly not impressed with its effectiveness. “Okay? I don’t do that because it’s dangerous. Core drives are dangerous. I don’t fuck with that stuff. Happy?” He waits for her to say something, then, when he gets no answer, says, “ What ?”

“So, because it’s dangerous to you… that’s why you don’t do it.”

He stares at her, dead-faced. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Joan sits forward and picks up the stress ball. “Just checking.” She palms it, fingers digging in. “So… let’s talk.”

  PRESENT DAY:

“I thought I saw you on the road a few days ago.”

Damien, who is on his way out the door, turns and frowns at her. “Oh?”

“Yes, walking along Bourbon Street. Toward the brewery district.”

“Maybe. I go there sometimes.”

“Do you always walk?”

“I like walking.”

“You shouldn’t walk with your back to traffic like that. It’s dangerous.”

He looks at her. His eyes are dark and there’s gravity in them, but she detects the nuances now. The undercurrent of uncertainty, the confusion. She feels the beginnings of a compulsion settling somewhere in her teeth, her bones, her brain, like a hand around her amygdala… but then it fades and Damien just smirks. It’s less convincing these days.

“Thanks, doc. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do.”

   fin.

[cosmosogler]

guess whoooooo lost track of time!

i basically did none of the things i was hoping to do today. i got up kinda late since i had so much trouble sleeping last night, i spent too long in the shower, i can’t remember what i did all morning. i couldn’t leave the house since dad was gone... oh, i washed the blanket. and i made plans to get lunch with some relatives next monday. i feel like i’m forgetting something important i was going to do though. like, really important. 

i did pick up my meds in the afternoon when dad got back. i haven’t started taking them yet. i will start tonight at bedtime. 

the steroids don’t seem to be helping doge at all. dad said that might happen. she’d have a lot less time if that happened. he said he wasn’t gonna let her live like that. she didn’t leave dad’s room today. i gave her a bowl of water and my brother brought her food bowl to her when it was time to feed them. she wouldn’t go outside unless dad was around either.

i did coax her outside at about 7, after i had a small dinner that made me pretty ill. 

maybe the infection is why i’ve been feeling so much more discomfort and pain this last week. and generally been feeling junky and absentminded. it’s dumb. my old doctor tried treating my pain with antibiotics back in early january when it first started happening and that didn’t help then. now it’s three months later and i suddenly have an infection?? even though i just took a round of antibiotics for that exact strain? jesus.

oh, i got a confirmation email for an appointment with my old therapist. for an appointment i did not schedule, and was not on my schedule card. i was pretty annoyed, but i called and made sure to specify that i meant “all future appointments” when i had asked for a cancellation. 

that seemed to eat up my entire supply of resolve for the day. i did not call the school. school related things are so incredibly stressful right now and i haven’t dealt with ANY of them. and i know that’s bad, and i’m bad for not doing them, and it’s gotten me in trouble with school administration in the past... i don’t know why “need to do thing” + “anxiety about thing” seems to mean “inability to do thing” every time. it’s not a very useful manifestation of stress. usually like, a desire to do a thing and imminently needing to do the thing come together and result in the thing getting done. i guess that’s why it’s an anxiety disorder. 

i didn’t take wiley out for a walk, even though he asked twice. my ankles have really been hurting whenever i put on shoes. i forgot to put a bandage on my other ankle before i left for the pharmacy and had to limp awkwardly around the store to try to avoid the chafing. i bought myself a candy bar and in the less than 10 minute trip home it melted. i was kinda bummed.

after trying to walk and hurting my ankle though i didn’t really want to go out of the house. so wiley and eve suffered for it. i did sit outside with the three of them for like 25 minutes though. 

my favorite way to pet eve is to take her leathery ear between my fingers and thumb and just feel the thin velvety fur. she doesn’t seem to mind at all. when she does mind she just shakes her head and pulls her ear out of my hand. diogi’s a little harder to do that with because her ears are all scarred up from her hematomas. and she gets real ticklish. wiley thinks it’s a game and nips at my fingers.

i talked with oz for a long time today. i have felt too lethargic to really commit to playing games... voice chatting is easier for me than focusing on a game. i would say that i feel better playing games in person, but 

OH WOW A BOTTLE CAP!

i would say that i feel better playing games in person, but i still kinda refuse to play games with dad. and i’m not being very persistent about getting him to sit down and continue watching jojo. i think i don’t have a problem playing games with asher because they are in person, and they are short and low-commitment, and also i enjoy playing games with asher. those three things are like... what needs to happen for me to be able to focus. 

pokemon is the obvious exception, but i have trouble articulating why. i’ve always liked pokemon. it lets me feel assured that i could put it down at a moment’s notice and attend to other things if i wanted/needed to. i just... never put it down, or if i do, i don’t put it down for long. 

it’s not that i CAN’T stop playing. when i’m hanging with asher i don’t really even think about it that much. i was really super bummed in december and january when i wasn’t playing because i had misplaced my entire collection of competitive/gifted pokemon, but that wasn’t because i wasn’t playing. it was more because i didn’t have the choice to stop playing. it had been taken away from me. in high school i went for years without playing. i still often go weeks or months without touching it, especially toward the end of the game’s “season.” it’s just, i feel like i can always just pick it right back up whenever i feel like it. and right now i ain’t got nothin better to do.

it’s better to have a project than to not have a project, right?

i kind of want to stress the difference between having a hobby and having an obsession or addiction. like, i have a physical addiction to my antidpressants, biologically. if i don’t take them i have really unpleasant withdrawal. but i am always, always sadder to not be talking to my friends than i am to not be playing pokemon. no question.

maybe i need to reassure myself because mom’s accusations make me feel insecure about my attachment to my hobbies. she always said i was addicted to video games and they were rotting my brain or whatever. but she also said i was addicted to melatonin. which is a dietary supplement and a naturally occurring chemical in your body.

she’s good at ‘splaining to me. momsplaining.

i get “addicted” to things like tetris and sudoku puzzles way more easily than pokemon. with pokemon there are generally good places to stop, and it’s easy to build a routine and stop at the end of that routine. but with tetris it just goes on forever. and sudoku puzzles, i can’t stop doing them when i start. when i close my eyes i see numbers popping into squares. i was actually pretty annoyed with my family for getting me a huge “daily sudoku” puzzle book for christmas. i had a sort of post-it note-sized 500 puzzle pad for a while in high school. i spent hours tearing through it, neglecting to eat or drink or do much homework. they had to be solved.

with jigsaws, and with pokemon, i don’t feel as... anxious getting up and leaving it for a little bit, or coming back tomorrow. 

i think i burned myself out though. i don’t even like doing the single online sudoku puzzles any more. i just do the new set of picture logic puzzles that comes out every friday and that usually takes about a half hour to forty minutes.

that sure was a tangent! pokemon was actually the first thing that really encouraged me to learn how to read. it had a lot of unfamiliar words and concepts that i had to actually sit down and read to learn about. like i had to figure out what “hydro” meant. before that i had tried to pick up long books like ms. piggly wiggly and kind of brute force my way through reading new material. but for video games i had to read because i had to learn the rules and how it worked. it wasn’t just a story.

i mean, i was still super bad at it until, like, crystal version came out almost three years later. but after i spent two hours trying to figure out how to get past veridian city because i didn’t know that i had to get the thing from the shopkeeper and take it back to professor oak, i learned that i had to learn how to read new words if i wanted to play this whole game.

formative experiences!

so i guess i did do quite a few of the things i had wanted to do today. tomorrow i’m gonna get lunch with gramma and i will TRY to contact at least one school for any of the reasons i need to contact any school. that’s just vague enough to not be a real commitment!

i should be a little more active with asher about settling in and studying for the general gre. he has to take it before the end of may i think? because of various scheduled events happening in his life after that. i say that not because i want to fuss and meddle with his life, but also because i have tutored before and in the physics field it is a very useful skill to have. now is the time to start working on a battle plan.

ok, it is past 12:30 now. i should stop writing and go to bed... i will try to pick up a new tv show this weekend i think. i’m thinking... death note. or maybe motorcity... something not too long-running, and preferably complete. i don’t have the energy to keep up with new ongoing shows right now. and i am feeling satisfied with the amount of show/movie critiques i have seen for now.

a REAL project would be starting a book! whoof. or worse, trying to draw or write again!!! terrifying!!!!!!

[airspaniel]

Retrospecticus 2016

I didn’t do this for 2015, because I thought that year was such a terrible tire fire that it didn’t deserve documentation. But well, we all saw how 2016 went, and now I’m sort of sad I don’t have a concise round-up of why 2015 was so awful. I’m sure the perspective would’ve been valuable.

Anyway, here’s my 2016 in review

1. What did you do in 2016 that you’d never done before? I was the sole creative and technical producer for an animated feature from one of the best beloved brands in the world. After a rough start to the year, this ended up being on of my best years professionally, thanks to [redacted] and [redacted]. Also, I took up circus, experimenting with flying trapeze, aerials, tight wire, juggling, and other general circus arts. I took a tumbling class and did front and back handsprings for the first time in like, twenty years, so even though that’s not something I’ve never done, I think the time delay makes it notable. Also, I explicitly came out to my family and my Facebook, which has been both a total non-event and deeply traumatic at the same time.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I didn’t really make any, but I thought about the song “Stay Alive” from Hamilton a lot, and I managed to do that, so good job, me. For 2017 I’ve brought back a resolution that served me well in 2009: “Ass, Gas, or Grass - nobody rides for free.” I’m more concerned with the latter part of that statement than the former. I also have spent a lot of time putting other people’s needs over my own, and I don’t think it actually helps anyone, and it actively hurts me, so I’m gonna try to do that less. Also - ONE HUNNERT NAZI SCALPS.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? My awesome friend Jess had an awesome baby! And like, some Facebook friends from college, which is cool but is less cool.

4. Did anyone close to you die? I mean the answer is yes and no. Because we lost the patriarch of my old folk music family, which was a gutting loss made only worse by the fact that I have been disowned by that group for the past seven years or so. Fuck cancer, is basically what I’m saying.

5. What countries did you visit? I went to England and Poland, and can’t wait to go back to both. I also did a lot of travel within the states, both for business and for pleasure, and got Delta Gold Medallion status for 2017. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

6. What would you like to have in 2017 that you lacked in 2016? This is the part where for the past seven years I’ve said something about a relationship. Well, I left 2015 thinking one thing was going on romantically, and that didn’t pan out, and it honestly took me most of the year to get to a good place about it. And I honestly don’t know that I’m in a place mentally and emotionally where a relationship would be a good thing, though I do miss closeness and intimate physical contact. I think what I really need is better self-esteem, and to find the confidence I have in my professional knowledge and abilities in my personal life. Maybe I’ll get a cat?

7. What dates from 2016 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? The first week of March, for the worst most gaslight-y performance review I’ve ever received, which sent me into a depression/anxiety spiral that had me thinking about suicide a lot. Also, the end of March, for the time I sacrificed my Hamilton tickets for the sake of my job. But then on the plus side I took a wonderful Vegas vacation with @lindsayribar at the beginning of July, and I’ll never quite think of champagne or the Cheesecake Factory in the same way ever again. The August-November corridor was a great time for me at work, and I got a lot accomplished that no one has ever done before. Thanksgiving with @joshversus and @dontbearuiner was also a particular delight.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Producing that movie. I was in charge of the script, the casting, the music, the direction, and the final mixing, as well as all the scheduling for every component of the production. I’d been scheduling producer for these movies for years, but I’d never gotten to do the creative producing as well, and I crushed it. I mean, we really made a great movie, and I’m super proud.

9. What was your biggest failure? I don’t know honestly. Most of the things I failed at don’t even matter anymore. I could say putting others’ feelings/needs over my own, but in the situations as they occurred, I can’t honestly imagine handling them any differently. I think I could’ve said no more often. Or maybe said yes. Maybe been less afraid.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Not physically, not really. I had some pervasive bladder issues for a while, but nothing that wasn’t solved fairly easily. Mentally I was a disaster, but I’ve got some better anxiety meds now, at least. I need to get a therapist this year.

11. What was the best thing you bought? Pretty sure it was that Vegas trip. I also gave a lot of money to my friends so they could make art, and I feel really great about that.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Mine did, honestly, though I didn’t get a lot of recognition for it, not even from myself.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Fucking, just... just most of fucking America at various times and in a lot of different ways.

14. Where did most of your money go? Rent. Plane tickets. Alcohol. I really can’t overstate how much I drank this past year.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? My movie. Vacations. Last minute shout out to Yuri!!! On Ice, which single-handedly saved 2016.

16. What song will always remind you of 2016? I mean, at this point if I said anything other than “History Maker” by Dean Fujioka, I would be lying. I would say the entirety of Lemonade, but Queen Bey is timeless and that album cannot be bound to a single year.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder? December 2015-January 2016 was one sustained panic attack, and even though that’s 100% still the case now, I feel more resolute. I had the rug yanked out from under me so many times in 2016, and even in just the past couple days, but I’m determined now in a way I haven’t been in a long time.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Feeling good. Writing. Being physical.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Keeping this from 2014 - Being lonely, being angry at myself instead of doing something about it. Also, thinking I’m not good enough, or that I don’t deserve good things. Like, that’s still a process but I want to keep making progress on it. I can’t hate myself forever, right?

20. How will you be spending Christmas? I spent Christmas Eve with my folks, taking it easy, drinking some beers and watching Die Hard, as is tradition. Then Christmas Day we went up to visit my dad’s sister and that side of the family. Aunt Pat had decided that she was tired of traditional crap, and so we had a taco bar for Christmas dinner. Also I fielded a lot of comments on my green undercut. If anyone doubted who was the queer cousin, I set all of those doubts to rest this year.

21. Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?  My folks. Vendors. I fucking hate the phone, but I did also manage to have some really good conversations with friends.

22. Did you fall in love in 2016? Nope. Had a lot of complicated feelings, though.

23. How many one-night stands? Well, I mean, I didn’t think it was at the time, but the answer is one. Also, the only time I had sex with another person all year. It was still the second most sexually active year I’ve had in the past seven, so...

24. What was your favorite TV program? Yuri!!! On Ice stole the title at the last minute. But like, I also started rewatching Leverage, and that show is great. Cutthroat Kitchen, Bob’s Burgers, and Rick and Morty all got me through some shit this year.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I mean, yeah. Basically every Republican, all Trump voters, literal Nazis I can’t even believe we are at this point but so it goes.

26. What was the best book you read? The Nice Guys by Charles Ardai. Yeah, it’s a movie adaptation, but it’s really fucking good.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? For total greatness, it’s an absolute tie between Lemonade and the Hamilton Mixtape. For sheer number of repeat listens, the Yuri!!! On Ice OST. Honorable mention to Ariana Grande’s album Dangerous Woman, and “Castle” and “Control” by Halsey.

28. What did you want and get? My movie. To know if I can still throw a back handspring. Drunk.

29. What did you want and not get? Oh, a lot of things. Also, President Hillary Clinton.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? Deadpool. Also The Nice Guys.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I was 34, and I went to my favorite izakaya with my parents and some friends from work.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Someone telling me I was good. Believing it.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2016? Fuck, can I even get this on? Ugh, fine, it sort of looks okay. (I put on a lot of weight this year)

34. What kept you sane? Alcohol. It almost didn’t work, but it usually did. My anxiety medication.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Man, I don’t even know. Probably still LMM and the Rock.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? Don’t even fucking talk to me about this trash fire election. 

37. Who did you miss? My friends in NYC, my friends in Texas, my friends in LA, my friends in London.

38. Who was the best new person you met? I met a lot of cool circus performers this year.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2016:

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: Pour up (Drank), head shot (Drank) Sit down (Drank), stand up (Drank) Pass out (Drank), wake up (Drank) Faded (Drank), faded (Drank) Kendrick Lamar - “Swimming Pools (Drank)“

[qualitativeresearch2017]

Interview~Part 2

K: Time of the day you would do these assessments? Cause I know anxiety can fluctuate. Have you thought about when you would be doing that?

H: I think I would be doing at the time that is most convenient for me to meet with everyone, for both us, not just them. Cause I think that was like the set up for the research study as well. It would be interesting to see a difference between morning, noon, and night hopefully.

K: Have you thought of contacting that grad student that you did the study for and see if you could, have read the results of her study?

H: Actually, I haven’t. I probably should. I do still have her email address so I can always reach out to her. And I think the reason I did the study, it was because they said if you participate in a study it means good karma in the future so I think if I asked her she would definitely be willing to help me.

K: And there’s a chance it could be posted, or it’s in that binder that’s in the office too?

H: Yeah I think it would be in there.

K: Have you looked through any of those studies, like the ones in the office or the ones that are posted online?

H: I haven’t looked online yet but I have just briefly looked through of those books. Some of them are pretty intimidating, especially the big ones but I remember Mary Ellen saying “keep it small, and simple”.

K: Is there anything I didn’t ask that you want to mention about your future research?

H: I guess, but I never really thought I would be doing research. I didn’t have a lot of interest in it when I was a psychology major in undergrad before transferring here. I thought it was really really boring. But now I see beyond that, cause if you do pick something you’re interested in then you’re gonna want to know more about it, and keep going and find out more. And help bring more research into the world…pretty cool.

K: Do you think you have such a drive for research now, because we’re in a field that is so new and needs more research done in it?

H: I would say definitely. Just from undergrad trying to look up studies that related to exactly what I was interested in, more specific than general was really frustrating. So I definitely want to help bring more research into the art therapy field, most definitely.

K: So besides this, what research do you see yourself doing or do you want to see how this one goes?

H: Definitely both. Now that I’m going to be working with people with substance abuse that’s also something that’s sparked my interest and I think I also want to see other research done with the elderly, cause there isn’t a lot there either.

K: Those with addiction, has that been a population you’ve been interested in before or is that a more recent thing you’ve thought about.

H: It’s come about more recently. I always thought working with that population was kind of scary and didn’t know a lot about it. But I’ve known people who have passed away because they have overdosed and I also know people who are getting treatment for having a drug addiction and also there is a growing drug problem around my town back home, and the surrounding area. So I feel now that the opportunity has given me a chance to help my community back home now.

K: Would you think about doing your research back home to conduct.

H: That’s definitely a possibility, yeah.

H: I live in a very small town but I did find out that there is an art therapist in my hometown, so I might try to reach out to her and see if she’d be interested.

K: Do you know what she specializes in?

H: I think she just works with anyone, I tried to look for it on the website, but I don’t think there any real mention of her specialties. I’ll have to get into contact with her.

K: So do you think you’ll have one population that you’ll exclusively work with later on or do you think you’ll be pretty much open to everything?

H: I’d like to think I’d be open to anyone, but there’s gonna be some populations that I’m not gonna have a whole lot of experience helping, so I’m gonna have to possibly pass them along to one of my coworkers or I could give it a try and see how it goes. But I’m kinda hoping to work exclusively with adults and maybe young adults. Maybe even the elderly, but we’ll see what happens.

K: Do you think your fellowship has helped with getting an idea for research or just kind of seeing how that side of art therapy works?

H: It’s given me more ideas for research. Just the other day before the snowstorm hit and classes got canceled Simone didn’t think she was going to make it on Thursday so she was talking about having me fill in for your class actually and she gave me two books on outsider artists, I think they mostly worked with people who had schizophrenia, and I was looking at the pictures and I noticed that alot of the art  that I’ve seen just so far with people with schizophrenia, they seem to use every single color but mostly red, blue, yellow, and green in their paintings so I told her about my observation and she said that might be a good idea for research project in the future, so I thought “hmm that’s interesting”. So that’s a possibility, but I don’t think I want to do that for my study.

K: You said you might want to look at colors people used in your research studies, maybe you would find some similarities in the usage.

H: It’s a possibility

H: I don’t know if they use more, I feel like people might use blue more just cause blue is more calming. That would be a theory to test or when I do it.

K: Would you restrict colors that your participants could use? Like would you give them a limited palette or do think you’d let them have any color they want.

H: I think I would try to give them as many colors as I can. [intelligible] I don’t like restricting color.

K: Will your participants eventually get to keep their work or do you think you’ll be keeping it all.

H: I would ask them, I would wait until the end of the study and ask them if they wanted to keep their art.

K: You said you would be recording their answers? So would there be an interview kind of process before they entered the study or would it just kinda be open to everybody?

H: Yeah I guess I would do an interview before the study. Maybe I would see what kind of experience they have with doing art and how they feel about making art, just get a background on them.

K: I know one in one of classes, Susan mentioned how she promised lunch to somebody for answering questions. Do you think you’d utilize any sort of reward?

H: I think it would depend on my financial situation. Maybe I can give them candy after it’s over.

K: Just curious

H: It’s a good question

K: That could raise ethical dilemmas too.

K: Do you forsee any ethical dilemmas coming up?

H: Not at the moment. I really hope there’s none. That’s something I am definitely going to have to be aware of.

K: You said you looked through those other studies in that binder, skimmed through. Is there any that caught your eye, that you could draw inspiration from besides the one you took part in?

H: Not yet, just cause the ones I looked through, it was very briefly. It was when I was substituting for Simone’s Senior Seminar class and they were working on their research proposals. So I had them all look through the books, I didn’t see what they studied, I kind of just went to the measures section, and wanted to see what scales they used. I don’t know why I was more interested in that.

K: Do you have any faculty member in mind that you would try get advice from for this?

H: I would definitely try to get advice from Simone just because I am around her the most. I’d probably ask Mary Ellen for help too just cause she has a lot of knowledge about research. Maybe Susan too. I know she’s not here right now, but I could always email her.

K: You mentioned that you were nervous about the time it takes for the IRB approval is there anything else that makes you nervous for this?

H: Just like waiting to see whose willing to participate in the study, makes me a second nervous, just cause I don’t know, I don’t know who would be interested.

K: I know some college students are underage and are still needing parental consent..

H: That’s right.

K: Would you be limiting, would you like, take those people out of equation for this or do you think you’d be open some younger students and getting consent from their parents?

H: I don’t want to not include them in the study but just to make it easier on myself I think it would be better  to not include them in the study. So when I make the flyers I might make an age limit, like 18+ on there. But if I were to reuse it in the future like I said if I would go to an elementary school, of course I would get consent to that. I just think it would be easier cause I wouldn’t have to worry about one group meeting consent and the other needing it. It would be the full group that would need consent besides the faculty.

K: You said there is no art therapy association over in Iceland, so do you know how consent works over there.

H: Well do have an association but they aren’t legit with the government like we are. I think they are seen the same way as a therapist and they still need to get consent. But I don’t know how they get funding for their research. Actually, there isn’t any research. I’ve check there isn’t any. When I met her, that’s definitely something they want to work on. I think that was also the inspiration for getting really good at research because I want there to be research coming out of Iceland.

K: Is it because it’s so new there that there isn’t really any research or the education is different.

H: I think it’s just because it’s so new, and the president is so busy that she hasn’t been able to sit down and start a research project yet. The people that do go there have to start in a certain location. I know that she said there was a woman there who that moved had to start in kindergarten before she could do anything else. I know that of them have a lot of their own private practices as well as working in other institutions. Maybe it’s just cause they are working towards setting up a program and along with all of that they just haven’t had time. I’m gonna have to ask.

K: You said you really want to bring research to Iceland, and have things coming out from there. Do you think that it might be difficult because of your background because you are an American? Are they going to be willing to accept your findings and such?

H: That’s a possibility. I’m not sure how they would feel about it. I’m sure the president would be excited about it though, cause she’s trying to get more interested in research and from her background, I noticed that she did do a research project before she graduated and got her license but she had a team that did it with her, so it wasn’t just her project. I think two other people she did it with. So she doesn’t have experience doing one completely by herself, so maybe she needs more help. So that’s what I’m kinda hoping for when I go there, a few people to help me out in a research project. I think it would be too much to take on if it was just me.

K: Would that because of some language barriers?

H:  Definitely. When I met her I was with my boyfriend. There’s somethings she didn’t know how to say in English and he had to help her translate it, so yeah there’s a lot of words I’m gonna have to learn how to say to help me out in conducting research. But I haven’t met with other art therapists yet, she wants too connect me with other ones. They all, pretty much the general public all knows English, except for the older people, because it wasn’t as prominent in school as it is now. So if I meet with other art therapists they might be better at English than she is, not that she’s not good at it, just she’s not as fluent as other people.

K: You said this general…well older generations might have problem with English. So do you think you’ll have problems conducting art therapy sessions, or do you think the point or concepts are going to get across pretty well?

H:  I might have some issues. I’m trying to learn the language myself so I could see myself getting stuck. I would try to explain it the best that I can to them. Everyone that I met that doesn’t understand English or has a hard time with it, like my boyfriend’s mother. They all seem really accepting cause they all know that I’m trying to learn. They know it’s a hard language to learn from an English person to an Icelandic person. It’s really hard. So all of the people I’ve met so far have been really accepting. I think if I can’t get across what the activity is I might try something else. It’s like Mary Ellen said, always have a plan B.

K: Is there anything else you like to add, or anything thoughts

H: Not really

K: I’m trying to think of any last questions

K: I guess my last question is, I know that some people have had to take a little bit longer with their research here, are you ok with that if it takes longer or do you think you’re just gonna try to get it all done?

H: I think I’m gonna try to get it all done but if it takes a little longer I don’t think, I might be a little frustrated by that but I’d rather the quality of it come out really well instead of just half assing a project.

K: I think that’s how everybody feels if it takes a little bit longer.

K: Oh! Is there any classes you want to take that you think are going to help with your research? In terms of theory or research in general that we are planned to take? Is there any one that you’re looking forward too?

H: I know medical is going on right now and I would have liked to take that just to know what’s going on. I think I’m more experienced with the studio art part of art therapy so I want to see the more clinical side of it. Just so I get that balance in there. I know that there’s gonna be a course on substance abuse coming up, I think in the fall and I think I would be interested in taking that and I know there’s gonna be a class on the sand tray and I’m really excited about that because I loved doing the sand try activities in class and I think the last one I’m really excited about it the Couples and Family Counseling Class.

K: So a lot of stuff coming up that could contribute.

K: Well, I think we’re good

H: Yay

[talesfromacrip]

d r e a m s:

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———

(( I’m sick and tired of having nightmares that involve me getting lost, losing someone I deeply care about, or something just, really fucking terrible in general that seems like a good thing, but makes me incredibly sad ))

-

oneI was camping with some people I know. I was walking around and then I got lost. I ended up in a giant field

I was in the middle and called out, nothing came out. I was mute and then I could hear everyone and I ran back and somehow slipped down into a building of some kind? the dream transitioning

I was near a staircase of sorts and then I feel someone grab my back. They then push me backwards into it. I wake up

Nature is scary to me and I don’t like getting lost, but falling down the stairs to my death?? That was an actual thing I wanted to do.. it’s, horrifying to see it happen in a way and feel as well

-

A reoccurring one I have where I’m sittting in an office of sorts waiting to see a doctor. Everyone I knew was coming in and out at leisure once done with appointments and would look at me with a sort of plastic face after. Once it was my turn, I was inside instantly and met with a high backed chair. A woman’s voice spoke to me, asking me all sorts of questions I don’t remember but remember being asked. Felt like forever  In the end they turn around and it was me.. am I like, my own therapist and one for others in some ways? I don’t really know, but it was pretty strange 

-

Had one where I was at another mall/concert venue and this time it was to see some show. There were people running suddenly because someone had a fucking gun. I saw blurred out faces and could only stand there. Didn’t do anything, didn’t move as people ran past me

I then hear it pop somewhere near my ear, waking me up frantically after 

Reason I had this, and i know damn sure is bc there was a fucking shooting not even 15 mins from my house.. How lovely to know 

Like, wtf... I want to take people there when they visit, but now I don’t want to go near it and dreaming of it makes it worse bc I don’t want to even go out

...

I’ll probably just the other dreams up or maybe not, idk. depends

———

———

(( I don’t wanna wake up from them. I have a leave the server mood, which, is pretty awful.

I haven’t thought about that much. Occasionally I will, bu t not this bad.. sigh Internalized ableism is a bitch and so are other things, but shit

I’m glad I’m over something’s in my life,but some stuff just gets brought up again or happens.it overwhelms me so much..so fucking much ))

I hate having dreams of me in places I’ve never been too and never will for reasons that can’t be helped. Obvious ones 

Seeing people I know minding their own business or doing extraordinary things that I’m involved in which I know some will never happen or happen as I’d like

Dreams where I’m running from someone or maybe something? calling out into a dark and empty void. Falling, being alone in the action. Ughh

Dreams where I can’t go outside anymore bc there’s a wall. Kinda like in a video game to mark the end of a map boundary..

it’s like I’m in that black mirror episode of that woman trapped in her mind who can see outside while her body is on this, odd autopilot mode. I wake up feeling so empty bc of these dreams, upset, the whole pie essentially or less

My dreams feel so alive and it’s nice to feel that, but waking up and then having to deal with reality. sinks in pretty fast and hits you with a fatal heart bullet

sometimes I’m dying of heat from them or shortness of breath like I was startled or crying heavily, sometimes I wake up and try not to cry if it’s too much. I’ll occasionally go back to sleep but I’ll just end up in the same cycle essentially. I don’t want that

I start having mood swings from them and feel ashamed when I shouldn’t.it’s not fun to explain what happened in your tiny little head sometimes during the night hours. I act sort of, distant and bitchy in the process and i don’t mean to. I just,don’t like bringing up the same things and sometimes not

especially if someone I know is in them constantly and it’s, personal. Makes things awkward when talking with them 

———

———

I hate having dreams where I’m married to someone who I know doesn’t see me that way and it hurts my heart so much. At least it’s someone who actually cares about me 

I can’t do anything for them though and never will. hurts

idk why my brain thinks I c a n.. it’s a pretty sick joke tbh. Maybe I can do somethings, but not as I’d like. I want to do so much for them, but can’t at all..

I know they probably care about someone else anyway like that who’s just, wayyyy better than me in every way:l

Probably closer, can move easily better than me, nicer than me, more upfront. Not struggling with stupid parents and a stupid crippled lifestyle. Probably makes them extremely happy and not a sad ass mess. Probably  does better art than me, cooks better

Hell, I bet they even look better than me as well.. but who fucking knows?

I can’t even talk to them properly anymore it seems, probably think I hate them or don’t want to do anything with them when I want to so badly, but I just don’t say anything. I don’t want to hurt myself more, but I already am

I resort to small talk and whenever I don’t, I talk about some dumb shit instead of actually saying how I’m truly feeling and all that and it pisses me off..can’t even get married anyway :)) Like, thank brain and heart

I hate having these fluffy dreams of having this life with this person..a comfy one that’s so perfect it could melt your eyes from the sap it produces. It’s so warm, but oh so far away and out of my reach.. physical, mentally..

Obviously I don’t hate it, I just hate how my brain tortures me like this

Sometimes I’ll have dreams where they don’t see me, hear me.. just, ignore me completely. They talk about me like I never existed, say horrendous things.. I know they are not true but it just seems like it

———

———

I wish I didn’t have the ability to dream tbh. Sure it may be nice and everyone’s or somes, "favorite activity", but I just don’t really like it much anymore

My dreams hurt worse than reality and it makes my heartache so badly every time I wake up.. I have to put on my face though and just, go with flow as they say.. to just lay there though, every morning and not being able to do what you like, but can in another state, is so weird and confusing on the mind and body. Mine to be exact. Sure it may as well be the coolest thing ever and may help with your problems and such but it’s just heart aching in general. For me that is, sigh

-

I hate waking up feeling horny because I cannot do anything about it or touch myself as I’d like.. just, sad what more can I say on that?

I do feel happy occasionally from some dreams at times, but then reality hits me like an isekai truck right after and I’m kinda left in this weird empty state in the process when I wake up. -

I cope with them by being a silly ass or what seems to be like a rude bitch, but it’s difficult to just downright say what’s going on. don’t want to ruin anyone’s day with my problems and with everything going on, but I must and I never do? I try?? ughh.. If only I could be a bit better with handling things.

I’ll get there, eventually? We’ll see

———

———

I love and "hate" having dreams about living on my own without a care in the world. it’s as if I never had any problems to begin with; sun shining on my face as I realize over time it’s all just a facade and I’ll wake up soon bc it’s just, too perfect..

something is just, off completely? Like I’d ever have a place with stairs and inaccessible hallways and whatnot.. pshh, I’ve never really dreamt about living in an accessible place or anything like that much anyway  bc of the immense ableism put on me growing up

It’s hard to explain that to people as well and makes you feel, alien in some ways

I thought it was something silly I noticed, but over time it just made so sad bc I will never be able to live on my own and never will, but in my dreams I can. which makes it worse on me bc it’s just, not gonna happen champo

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cooking foods I like and would like to, relaxing at my own pace with no yelling or screaming, opening the door to warm familiar faces.. hurts

I don’t have many scary anxiety induced dreams like I did last year and before. now they’re just, idk very abled and it’s weird and I don’t like em much  

Idk why i never noticed till the end I guess, but it’s better than dreaming of people who used to hurt you and made you feel like shit about your life and your friends as well so that’s a plus in its own ways

ughh, self torture is a bitch and she’s out to get me ughh