#psychiatrist prescribes drugs and 'all we can do is watch'

[immortalsins]

“Where Will Graham is concerned, if you feel the impulse to step forward, you must force yourself to take a step back.” “And just watch him lose his mind?” “Sometimes all we can do is watch.” no the thing is its not though is it you can do you job for gods sake both of you

[jadeluz-official]

I know a lot of theories around BJ2 have revolved around dreams, but I want to throw out my own theory: 

Doctor Glickman is the real antagonist of BJ2. 

In the beginning we see Lydia take pills. Those are benzodiazepines but they're more commonly known as benzos. They are depressants that produce feelings of sedation and hypnosis. These medications are tightly regulated and can only be prescribed by a doctor. They have dangerous effects when misused such as amnesia, irritability, and vivid or disturbing dreams:

<Note: In real life, only a psychiatrist can prescribe those medications. Benzodiazepines is a schedule IV drug of the Controlled Substances Act. However, since no psychiatrist was mentioned - I am presuming the film intends it to be Glickman who prescribed these pills. >

The dosage on this substance is kept to an absolute minimum for its adverse effects. We see Lydia cool down after digesting the substance until Rory tosses them in the waste bin. However, we see Lydia take 2 during the bathroom scene when her bottle is labeled "Take 1 tablet per day." She's reliant on the sedative properties and we can't trust from there if what we're seeing is reality or not. Rory as well, who takes the pills with her despite not needing it.

Further along the story, there's three lines related to Glickman and how he behaved as Lydia's therapist. We know Astrid encountered Glickman at least once and wasn't fond of him. Not once do we see Rory mention any reflective homework like Glickman assigned to Lydia, but we see Rory constantly lying and refusing to acknowledge Lydia's concerns and desires (such as a small wedding, warning about Beetlejuice, you get the idea.)

At least... not until Beetlejuice shows up. He's mocking Doctor Glickman during his therapy scene, but this time he directly attacks Rory. He takes his time to torture Rory in this scene to the point of Rory passing out. Since Beetlejuice doesn't need to be on screen to be aware of the events of the film, he was watching it all, Rory's manipulation, the therapist directly telling Lydia she needed to better herself, Lydia slowly driving herself to madness with her pills and so forth. And in this scene Beetlejuice mentions he was willing to do work and better himself for Lydia, which is something Rory has never done:

Lydia's response to this:

Well then, where am I going with this?

Lydia starts to realize the effects of her medication are causing "hallucinations" of Beetlejuice. Unaware of everything around her plausibly being her imagination or dream, and the film gets more psychoactive as it progresses, it's not until Lydia wakes up at the end with Beetlejuice until the effects of these pills wear off.

After being injected with the truth serum, Rory admits he was only in it for the money. Therapy and certain medications have been known to be incredibly expensive in the United States. As long as Lydia was sedated and her hallucinations allieviated, Rory took advantage of how vulnerable Lydia was on the medication, even if it foiled episodes of Ghost House at times.

And to give him a taste of his own medicine, Beetlejuice injects Rory with the truth serum knowing Lydia was being taken advantage of when she consumed her pills. It's his idea of sweet revenge. Also mentioning how Rory still refuses to work on himself, unlike how Glickman did: 

If Rory had successfully gotten away with their marriage, he could have more access to benzodiazepines and other prescription drugs from Doctor Glickman to keep Lydia under surveillance and exploit her for money. He admitted exploiting weak and vulnerable women, and Lydia being a depressed and anxiety-ridden mess meant she was the jackpot for Rory. And one could presume, Glickman would get a nice paycheck each time he provided those drugs to Rory.

So yeah, Rory was poisoning Lydia slowly. Glickman was providing her these drugs with intensive sedative and delirium effects. No wonder why BJ intervened. He stopped Lydia from making his same mistake.

Say what you want about Beetlebabes, but all I can say after watching this movie 5 times already is that Beetlejuice really does love Lydia. Every single time I rewatch it, I find more reasons about how he loves her so much:

[macgyvermedical]

My Experience in Inpatient Psych

So I know a lot of people on here have talked about their experience in inpatient psych facilities, but I'd like to add mine just to give all you writers out there a writer-focused one. It's below the cut just in case you have to sit this one out for your own reasons.

To give you some background, I am 30 years old and have had hallucinations since about 16 and bizarre intrusive thoughts (someone living in my house that wasn't supposed to be there, somebody poisoned my walls, etc...) for about a decade, as well as very severe anxiety since I was about 3 years old. This is something not a lot of people know about me, even people I am friends with IRL.

The only thing I am actually diagnosed with is anxiety, which I'm starting to think is a failing of the psych systems I have been a part of. I have had counseling off and on and prior to this hospitalization I took escitalopram, aripiprazole, and gabapentin prescribed by my primary care doctor- all for the severe anxiety.

Quite frankly, I should have been in inpatient psych at least a few times before this, and it's by sheer dumb luck that I've survived to continue this blog.

On Friday, I was at home alone and made a few pretty bad decisions. I wont say what they were because frankly they're embarrassing, but they have to do with self-harm. I was scheduled to work Saturday and at about 9pm I realized that if I drove myself to work I would crash my car. Since my wife drives me sometimes, I figured I would just ask her to.

I told my wife and she asked- even if she drove me to work, since I was a nurse, would I be able to keep myself safe around insulin or other potentially dangerous drugs? I couldn't answer that question. We talked for a couple hours and came to the conclusion that I probably needed to go to the emergency department.

At this point I figured they would evaluate me and release me because I couldn't possibly meet the criteria for inpatient. I was wrong in this assumption. After telling them the decisions I had made that day, the feelings of wanting to die in a car crash, plus about a previous attempt, they recommended inpatient. Turns out, when you're a nurse, you can make some really bad life choices with the knowledge you have, and they didn't want to take any chances.

I was given paper scrubs to wear (so I couldn't hurt myself with my clothing or a hospital gown). I was also given a patient companion (someone who sits in the room and makes sure you don't hurt yourself).

They gave me the option of signing myself in voluntarily, or putting me on a writ of detention. A writ of detention is a piece of paperwork that allows a medical professional or law enforcement officer to hold someone for 3 days in a psychiatric facility against the person's will for the purposes of psychiatric treatment. Whether you sign the voluntary or get placed on a writ, you cannot sign yourself out. You need to wait until the psychiatrist taking care of you thinks you're ready to go.

I didn't believe at this point I needed to go inpatient, but I took the voluntary option because there are some perks, like being able to leave within 3 days if appropriate. At this point I was convinced I was probably going to have to call off work Saturday and Sunday, probably be out of the hospital Monday, have a few days to rest and be back at work on my next scheduled shift after that, which was Thursday.

Well, that's not what happened.

Because of some of the decisions I had made, along with bed availability, they wanted to keep me in the observation unit overnight before they sent me to psych. I stayed overnight in a unit that shares staff with the unit I work on, so I was taken care of by my coworkers. This was surprisingly not that bad. I like my coworkers and they were really professional about it.

Saturday I felt like I was in a fog all day. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't color or write. I worked out some in my hospital room and paced the halls once or twice. Mostly I hung out with my wife and occasionally talked with my companion, but even talking was difficult. I had refused ativan because I felt like I had no hope of finding a medication that made me feel better, and I figured I didn't want to take the one medication that might actually work and then not be able to get it ever again.

Around 7PM I took a 45 minute ambulance ride to the facility. Getting my blood pressure taken is a big anxiety trigger for me, but my brain felt so scrambled that I couldn't express this well. They took it every 10 minutes on the ride there and by the time I got there it was in the 170s/100s (BP goes up when you're having severe anxiety). This was not their fault of course, but no matter how much I thought about telling them or refusing the BPs, I just couldn't do it.

When I got to the facility I was greeted by a tech who took my BP again (150s/90s this time), showed me around and looked through my personal belongings (basically just the clothing I came in with since my wife took my phone and wallet knowing I wouldn't be able to have them on the unit) to make sure I didn't have anything I wasn't allowed to on the unit. She showed me around my room and was really thorough with telling me how things worked, what the rules were, etc..

The rules included:

No patients allowed in other patients rooms

No personal belongings that had strings, belts, or laces, or that could be used as a weapon

No caffeine after lunch and no free access to caffeine

No personal electronics (including eReaders and watches). There was a TV in the day room and 2 phones mounted to the wall for patient use

A little later my nurse came into my room and asked me a ton of questions. Here's the thing about any hospital- you get asked the same questions over and over. By the time I'd gotten there I could give my story in under a minute. Or at least, that's what it felt like. There were only 2 clocks on the unit, at the nurses stations.

The unit itself was laid out in a "T" shape. There was a main nurse's station at the place where the two hallways intersected. At the end of the long hallway there was another smaller nurses station, a cafeteria/day room, and a "comfort room" which was a small room off the day room that had a collection of the oldest and worst donated books that have every come together on a bookshelf.

I did some pacing that night and then went to bed, but didn't sleep particularly well.

On Sunday morning the tech woke me up to take my blood pressure, which was, not unsurprisingly, still high. It was about 5 AM so I got up and paced the longer of the corridors for about an hour. Breakfast was served at 8 and the food wasn't that bad. The coffee was about the worst I'd ever drank, which I suppose helped with the no caffeine goals.

Just after breakfast I met with a psychiatrist on an iPad for about half a minute, and I'm not exaggerating there. The only questions he asked were whether I was suicidal and whether I would be fine with tripling my dose of aripiprazole in light of the hallucinations. I had had a 50-lb weight gain in the last year so I asked to switch my med. He switched the med to cariprazine. That was all.

I had a much longer meeting with my nurse later. All the nurses did an excellent job of assessing me, asked tons of questions, and it seemed like they really tried to figure out what was going on. That day I also met with a social worker, and a therapist, and a nurse practitioner. Each of them did an assessment to see what my needs were while I was there.

There was also a music therapy session where I cried my eyes out to Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.

I was really tired by the end of the day but I also didn't think I could sleep so I asked for trazodone. I should clarify that when I say "I" in this piece I really mean my wife convinced me to ask because I legitimately didn't believe I needed or deserved any of the things I asked for at this point. To my utter shock and surprise, they gave me the trazodone.

My first night on trazodone was amazing and I realized I hadn't slept well in a long time. With trazodone I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the blood pressure cart came rolling down the hallway at 5am. The second I got up on Monday morning I was wide awake.

I paced a lot Monday. I went to a goals session in the morning where I gave a goal to write 3/4 of a page. I didn't know if I could do it or what I was even going to write about, but I know I like to write and it might be a reasonable introduction to getting back to life.

I also was having kind of a rough day brain-wise. My brain was coming up with all the ways I could hurt myself in my room. There weren't a lot of them, but it was trying. I told the nurse during her assessment and she asked if I felt I could keep myself safe. I asked her what she would do if I said no. She said they could move me to a more secure part of the unit and give me more supervision. I knew what part of the unit she was talking about, and I didn't want to go there (no space to pace, and pacing was keeping me alive right then). So I told her I could keep myself safe (if anything, the idea of moving was good motivation to do stay safe in itself). I hallucinated some black and white blood cells falling from the ceiling and music coming out of my vents.

I also had another meeting with the social worker to figure out discharge plans. I voiced in the meeting that I wasn't sure that I could trust my wife, since it felt like at the time she was the one who exaggerated my symptoms to get me in here. The social worker said we had really good communication skills, since this was something I felt needed to be said in front of both of them and we both stayed really calm through the whole thing.

I finished the day with an art therapy session that really helped me turn a corner. The prompt was to draw the emotion(s) you felt right now on one side of the paper, and to draw the emotions you wished you could feel on the other side. For the first time I realized that my emotional state was actually really bad and that the suicidality hadn't come out of nowhere, and that I needed help.

When my wife came to visit later that night I was able to tell her about my breakthrough, even though I still felt a little bit like she had done something to get me in here and I still wasn't sure I needed to be inpatient.

Tuesday was a lot better. I felt like I had woken up out of some kind of fog and I had no idea how long I'd been in it. I went to goals group, a spiritual group, and group occupational therapy. My goal was to be more social and I made a friend and we paced together and worked out. I read a quarter of The Martian by Andy Weir (my wife brought it for me because the best thing on the bookshelf was Louis L'Amour). I wrote about how good I suddenly felt. Turns out, I thought, a few days of good sleep, lots of therapy, and a new medication or two will really change things.

A quick side note about The Martian. I highly recommend it to anyone who is chilling in a psych hospital but has the ability to read while they're there (I sure didn't the first few days). I don't really know why, but the first few times I read it, I felt like they had created this superhuman character in Mark Watney just so they could throw a ton of wild things at him for the story. This time reading it, as a suddenly not suicidal person, I realized anyone with Mark's skill would have done the same thing and not just died on Sol 7 to get it over with.

Wednesday I woke up not feeling nearly as good as Tuesday, but still like the fog had lifted. I was a little disappointed (I hallucinated my cat (thanks for coming to visit me, Corina), some spiders, and just felt kinda meh. But I remembered how good I felt the day before, and that really kept me hopeful about going home.

I saw the psychiatrist again and asked to go home. He joked a little about me staying till Christmas, but ultimately he said as soon as his note was in I could go. I ended up leaving at about 12:30 with my wife.

In the time since leaving I have required a lot of support from my wife. The medications are all locked up, so are the blades and anything I could use to hurt myself. My wife has me in eyeshot at all times. I can't drive due to intrusive thoughts, so she does all the driving now. I quit my job because I feel like it was a big part of why I ended up as bad as I was. As someone who has been a pretty independent person this is a big change of pace, but something that is really necessary to my healing.

Ultimately at the end of my hospital stay, I was prescribed escitalopram, gabapentin, trazodone, cariprazine, and then a few days later propranolol. I'm currently on a total of 5 psych meds and honestly I don't care one bit because its so much better than being not on them at this point in my life.

[enbymaths]

Life update/vent/stress in academia

I'd like to preface this with the following two points:

1. this is going to be some kind of explanation for my hiatus and it's going to be pretty heavy so please watch out for TW drvg use/anxi3ty/depr3ssion

2. if anyone who knows me IRL sees this, I implore you not to approach about any of this stuff, I don't want to make all of this some soppy story about poor little me

Since the beginning of 2024. I've been sick on and off every couple of weeks, my nose'd be runny for like a week or so and then I'd be fine for a couple of days and that cycle would repeat itself every couple of weeks until I got really bad stomachaches that lasted for 8 weeks until I got some antibiotics.

Those 8 weeks were a complete hell for me. One does sacrifice a lot of their life in order to succeed in academia, but health? That's scary.

So I decided to try and not to stress myself out about my upcoming exams, keep in mind the fact that I'm in my last year of undergrad. After those 8 weeks have passed along with additional 2 weeks full of doctor exams, I went back to studying for the upcoming exam season which was now in a couple of weeks.

My college isn't the most organized one, and that exam season was stretched out over the course of two months and now I had only 4 weeks to prepare myself for the upcoming exam season and I was stressing out really badly. My health has been on a decline for about two years, and all the doctors have been saying that it is due to stress, not trying to do anything about it actually and they'd prescribe me some b3nzodiazepines and beta blockers.

The thing that they didn't take into account is the fact that I was prescribed b3nzos for my insomnia along with melatonin for the past 4 years. I'd take them pretty much every night because I just wasn't able to sleep.

And my exam season came along, and I failed pretty much all of my exams, miserably. I was hoping that I'd be able to finish my degree in time despite my declining health, and no, I wasn't able to pull off such thing. Life happens.

After that and a cardiac episode that I had on my birthday, I was sent to a psychiatrist for evaluation because of my blood pressure going sky high and random muscle twitching. I thought I did pretty fine, but the psychiatrist told me that I should 'worry less', 'go out more' etc. and sent me on my way home merrily with a prescription for 5 drugs, two of which were add1ctive.

Now that one month has passed, I can say that I haven't taken any of those meds, primarily because I believed that I can beat this on my own terms and I was scared of taking more add1ctive meds-at the end of the day, I was taking b3nzos for the

last four years

for my insomnia.

And I was kinda successful, up until today. Last couple of days I tried to go to sleep without taking my nightly b3nzo and I was able to pull it off!

For 3 days.

And I'd sleep!

Poorly.

And finally, I had a mental breakdown where I realized that I was really depressed, I had all kinds of thoughts flying through ny head and I couldn't calm myself down. And what did I do? Well yes, I popped a x4nny. And I became a completely different person. No more dark thoughts, no more sewer slide ideations, life had meaning again and then it hit me-unbeknownst to me, I have developed a b3nzo add1ction.

Then I tried to google a couple of articles about long-term b3nzo abvse and I came across this one article on

where they talked about people feeling a sudden decline in their health after years of taking b3nzos and it hit me.

I wasn't depressed.

I went through withdrawal symptoms. I am addicted.

So the next step? I'm going to talk about my b3nzos problem with my psychiatrist this monday and take the right course of action, maybe ask for a second opinion, to ask them to reconsider my diagnosis and delegate me to another clinic if necessary. My problem may be very much real, and I have caused it.

All of the symptoms and diagnoses that were listed on the site above as misdiagnoses for long-term b3nzo abvse were all once considered as diagnoses for me in this past year. Immensely weakened immune system can be explained by prolonged b3nzo abvse. And the scariest thing about all of this?

I wasn't aware that I couldn't make it without my body aching for meds.

All of this stress, all the worries about my grades, academia and my future and I wasn't even aware that I was add1cted to my meds. Just because I didn't take care of my well-being and didn't notice that I wasn't able to stop taking my meds.

The point is that health comes first and academia will always be second. Do not sacrifice yourself for academia, and if you're going through similar things right now, I hope that you know that we're making it out of this b

[lottieurl]

HI me again i had a paper to write but i'm back actually talking about the lottie point i was originally going to write about before getting possessed by the urge to write mari nolastname analysis. but basically i was thinking about how passive lottie was throughout old wounds, something that has been talked about quite a bit already. i was sort of thinking about that in relation to what we see in lottie's flashback episode as well as what we see in the s2 premiere of like... lottie is always spoken for, she is silently resigned to other people telling her what these visions mean and whether they're good or bad, something to hide or something to listen to and indulge in. like the scene of lottie at the top of the stairs listening to her parents argue about what to do with her vs lottie watching silently as the group argues about her in the cabin vs lottie catatonic and letting her dad decide what to do with her post rescue like... not only is she never a voice in the conversation but these are also SUCH polarized messages she's getting like. there is something wrong with her she's sick but then she's a prophet and a god in those woods and then it's right back to there is something wrong with lottie we need to fix her. and then something about adult lottie and all her guilt about everything. "we are the ones making ourselves sick". lottie takes all of the accountability and yet has none of the agency. like she Does make decisions for sure, she's not a passive character, but she lets other people decide what position to put her in and then acts from there. and like... how confusing and awful are all of these strong, loudly voiced, opposed opinions (that are honestly both dehumanizing in a way) for someone who is already scared and uncertain of their own experiences and what they mean? i love lottie matthews she makes me sooo. yeah. -cannibal laura lee anon

okay so. seems like the right time to discuss something i don't think i've seen discussed because i think people aren't sure how to talk about it. which... honestly i'm not sure either. everyone can judge for themselves whether they think how the show deals with mental health related issues is good or bad, there's for sure stuff to criticize or at least be aware of. but that's not really what i want to talk about. i want to talk about lottie in-universe and what are my thoughts and interpretations of her character and what she's going through. so! with that out of the way

lottie starts the show as a character who - i assume based on context clues with her childhood flashback and the meds we see her take in the days following their plane crash - has been on what i assume are antipsychotics for years (haven't researched how were psychiatrists prescribing those to minors in the 90s in usa but the show has lottie go through shock therapy after plane crash which is just. pretty damn unrealistic for the 90s so i think we can safely assume those meds are meant to be antipsychotics). my personal take on her character is that what happens to her is a mix of actual mental illness and something paranormal and regardless of that she's forced to quit her meds cold turkey after a traumatic event. even if her body and her mind dealt with it relatively well that's just horribly stressful for a 17yo who's been told for most of her life to fear her mind essentially and that she NEEDS those pills. she's so clearly anxious and then i think she's going through those rapid mood changes and then she's DRUGGED without her knowledge. like quite frankly that sounds horrifying especially in the context of what she's been through? and you're right it's this character we sort of see "in power" a lot in some ways but she doesn't actually have that much agency over herself and her life and i think she's trying to reframe it and change it in her adulthood through what she's... created and i think it's.. fascinating how she's trying to BE what people need her to be and who they think she is? at least so far in season 2. like jokes aside the fact that she's using things she's definitely learned in therapy before plane crash hurts me a little because to me that means she did find those techniques helpful and so she's trying to grasp at what might help her and others out there

[multidimensionalbulletinboard]

Psychiatrist: Okay we have had really positive results with this drug, and I think it’ll really help with your mental health. Just watch out for rashes around your mouth, eyes and nose, because that’s the only way to tell if the medication is causing rashes on your internal organs.

Psychiatrist, one month later: Hmm, you haven’t improved at all on this medication? I think we should triple your dose. Don’t worry about gradually increasing, just go up all at once. What’s that? You haven’t slept in days and it’s devastating your mental health? Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, because I don’t like to prescribe sleep aids. Just drink less caffeine. I care about your well being.

Doctor prescribing antidepressants: so this medication can cause side effects such as memory loss, seizures, eating disorders, stomach issues, rashes, fatigue, and could actually make you want to kill yourself even more. This is perfect for you

Doctor prescribing pain meds: Are you sure you don't want to try diet and exercise first? These pills are so bad for you. Yeah technically the list of side effects for this pain medication is a lot shorter than it is for your other medications, but the thing is, they might make you TOO happy. And we hate addicts. I just think destroying your stomach lining and liver with 2000mg acetaminophen and 1600mg ibuprofen per day would be a lot safer, because you definitely don't want "happiness" as a side effect of medication. Not being in pain and being happy is just too addictive and addiction is bad.

[specialagentsergio]

side effects may vary

summary: An unexpected side effect brings you and Spencer closer—literally—when he’s prescribed a medication to help relieve his chronic nightmares.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: prescription drug use, one small sexual reference, discussion of tornadoes (spencer gives a small infodump)

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ “there was only one bed” event. when i saw the “medication makes someone sleepy” prompt, i had to take it, because this happens to me regularly lol.

word count: 2k

masterlist

It’s become a habit for you and Spencer: every Friday night you can, the two of you get together and watch a movie or show. It’s always at your place because he doesn’t have a TV, but he doesn’t mind—you have the better couch anyways. He thinks he could stay on it forever, especially on the nights where you don’t watch anything at all and talk for hours instead.

He made the mistake of mentioning this Friday night tradition to Morgan once. He’d questioned just why, exactly, Spencer liked going over to your place so much. Spencer hadn’t realized Derek was teasing him until he’d already come up with the lame excuse of your couch being really comfortable.

Morgan had chuckled. “I think it has less to do with the couch and more to do with the person who owns it, kid.”

He was right, of course, but was Spencer going to admit his silly little crush? Absolutely not. Especially not to Derek. He just continued going to your place every Friday, stubbornly ignoring the smirks and eyebrow wiggles sent his way from the man.

It’s one such night a few months later when an alarm on his phone goes off, making you both jump. He nearly spills the popcorn everywhere in his scramble to turn it off. “Sorry. It’s—wow, it’s nine already.” As usually happens when he’s with you, he’s lost track of time. It’s why he set the alarm in the first place.

“You have somewhere to be?” you ask.

“Um, no. I just…” he trails off, leaning forward to dig through his satchel at his feet, searching for the white paper bag he picked up from the pharmacy earlier in the day.

You don’t ask aloud, raising an eyebrow instead. It’s you providing him with an out—you’ll let him pretend he didn’t see it if he doesn’t want to answer the question.

He sighs, pulling the little orange bottle out, a prescription from the psychiatrist you’d coaxed him into seeing. “It’s just, uh… it’s supposed to help with, y’know… dreams,” he explains quietly.

“Nightmares,” you clarify.

“Yeah. That’s what the alarm was for.” He pops the cap and looks at the little pills inside. “To remind me.”

“We can finish this later,” you say with a gesture towards the TV. “It’s okay if you need to leave.”

He shakes his head. “She said to take it a few hours before bed. There’s plenty of time to finish.” Not that he cares that much about the show. He just doesn’t want to cut his time with you short.

“The bottle says it can make you drowsy, though,” you say, pointing out the little flap on the side of the bottle he hadn’t noticed.

“It won’t,” he dismisses nearly immediately, shaking a dose out into his hand.

“You can’t know that.”

“I’m a chronic insomniac. I’ve tried medication before. It doesn’t work,” he says firmly.

“If you say so,” you say, unconvinced.

“I do.”

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The words on their own typically imply annoyance or resignation, an insistence that the speaker knows better, but from you, all he can detect is amusement. And if he didn’t know better, he’d say your slight smile conveyed affection.

“Oh, I won’t,” he replies confidently, and takes the dose with a sip of water.

That confidence turns out to be misplaced.

It doesn’t happen quickly. You finish watching the current episode and he insists on another. About halfway through it, he starts to feel… different. A little… foggy and unfocused. Any movement he makes feels slow, and his eyelids are getting heavy. Try as he might, he can’t quite keep them open. He’ll rest them for just a minute….

“… encer. Spencer.” Something pokes his arm and he grumbles, shifting away.

“What?”

“It’s over.”

He blinks a few times, slowly reacquainting himself with his surroundings. Credits are rolling on the TV screen; he's about to ask why they look slanted, then realizes it's because he's slumped to the side. He pushes himself back to sitting, a delayed "oh" leaving his mouth. He rubs the sleep from one of his eyes, and catches your expression in the other.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" you protest but the little laugh punctuating your words gives away what he knew you were thinking: I told you so.

With a sigh, he begins gathering up his things, pulling his bag into his lap and untying his shoelaces so he can put them back on.

“What are you doing?" you ask.

"Um, going home?"

"You can't ride the Metro like this," you say. "You're half asleep."

He tries and fails to suppress a yawn, but still insists, "I'll be fine."

"Spencer, I don't like you riding the Metro this late even when you're totally lucid. You know that."

He does. You often express such worries on your Friday nights, offering to let him stay with you. He always declines. Your couch may be comfortable when he's sitting, but it's not long enough for his legs horizontally.

He also worries about what he might say in his sleep. He's been playfully teased by team members often enough already. The last thing he wants is to ruin your friendship by expressing his feelings for you in his sleep.

He's got one shoe on and is about to put on the other, but you snatch it away. "Hey."

"No,” you say firmly. "You're staying here tonight."

"(Y/N)--"

"Take your shoe off." You flip the TV off, stand, and stretch. "And come to bed."

His mouth drops open a little. Come to bed. Did he really just hear that? You say it like it's the most natural thing. It sounds so...domestic.

He really likes it.

His eyes follow you as you walk to your bedroom. You stop in the doorway and look back to him. "Come on."

He's in a bit of a daze as he walks towards you, not realizing he's still wearing one shoe for a few steps. He clumsily kicks it off, then follows you through the bedroom door and into the adjoining bathroom, where you provide him with a spare toothbrush.

Normally he wouldn't want to share toothpaste with someone. He's even refused to do so a few times on cases when his little travel-sized tube has run out, instead going down to the front desk of whatever place they're staying at for a replacement, no matter how tired he is. But tonight he doesn't even think twice, just takes the tube when you pass it to him. It simply feels...normal, as if you and him do this every night before bed.

I could get used to this.

Spencer's still a little groggy from the medication, so it isn't until he’s standing in the bedroom that he realizes that there’s a problem. "There's only one bed."

"Um, yeah," you reply. "What, did you think I had bunk beds?"

"No, I just..." He's not sure how to explain it when you're pulling back the covers like it’s any other night. "There's one bed... and two of us."

"That's correct. It's a queen. It's made for two people," you point out. You sit down on one side, then pat your hand on the other.

He slowly approaches the bed, but hesitates, twisting his fingers a little. Your expression shifts, and he blinks. Surely that's not a look of disappointment he's seeing?

Your voice is quiet when you speak. "Spencer, if you don't want to share a bed with me, you can just say it."

"What? No!" he exclaims. "That—that's not it at all."

"Okay, then, what is it?"

"The opposite,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I can't believe you want to share a bed with me."

"Why wouldn't I?" You say it so simply; he can hardly believe it.

"Well, because I'm... me," is the reply he comes up with. "I'm annoying, and I talk too much, and my limbs are all long and weird--"

"I don't think you're annoying, Spencer," you interrupt. "We wouldn't be friends if I did."

"Oh. I guess... I guess that's true. But my arms and legs--”

"Are fine,” you reassure.

“I…” He’s a little too out of it still to think of something else. “Well, okay.”

“Since that settled..." You smile up at him. "Would you get into bed?"

He can't help but smile back. "Okay."

You both settle in. Right before you turn off the light, he speaks again. "I talk in my sleep," he says quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. "Just thought you should know.

"So I'm gonna get your fun facts in the night, too?" you ask, the corner of your mouth turning up.

"Maybe." He fiddles with the collar of his shirt. "Derek says every night is a toss up between that or gibberish…”

You laugh. "Noted."

You turn the lights off and silence falls over the room as you both find comfortable positions. The medication definitely hasn't worn off; sleep is quickly approaching him again. He feels a light touch on his arm. It trails down to his wrist. A slight pause, then you're sliding your hand into his. On instinct he winds his fingers through yours. He hears a content sigh right before he drifts off.

---

Morning light spilling through the curtains wakes him up. He takes in a deep breath and stretches. He feels amazingly well rested; more than he has in a long time. And he had the best dream about you….

Spencer rolls over, then jumps a little—you're right there next to him, awake and looking at him with a soft expression.

"So it wasn't a dream," he says aloud.

You smile. "No, it wasn't.”

"We slept in the same bed," he says, dumbstruck.

"We did."

"You... held my hand?"

A nod and a bashful smile. “I did."

"Huh." He's quiet as he processes this and gathers his memories together. There's a question that comes to mind, but he doesn't know if he’s brave enough to voice it. Instead, he asks, "Did I sleep talk?"

"You did," you reply. "You told me the widest recorded tornado was 2.6 miles wide."

"The 2013 El Reno tornado," he says automatically. "It’s also the second most powerful tornado recorded. It occurred on May 31 of that year. Though it officially ranks as the widest tornado on record, current Doppler estimates of the 1999 Mullhall, Oklahoma tornado indicate that it may have been 4.3 miles wide."

You blink. "That's terrifying."

Spencer winces. "Sorry."

"It's okay." You hesitate a little, biting your lower lip, then slowly reach out and take his hand. Again, his fingers thread through yours perfectly.

He looks down at your joined hands, then back at you. His question from before returns. "What does this mean?" he asks quietly.

"It means..." You take a deep breath. "I like you.”

He frowns. "I know that. That's why we're friends."

"That's not what I meant." You squeeze his hand as if to remind him that you're holding it. "I meant that I like you as more than a friend."

His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?" he squeaks.

"Really," you confirm. "If you don't feel the same, I understa--”

You're cut off by him leaning forward and pressing the lightest little kiss on your lips.

"I like you as more than a friend, too," he says softly.

You give him the most wonderful smile. "Then get back here and kiss me properly."

Spencer obliges. He's never cared less about morning breath.

You scoot closer to him when you break apart and push his limbs around slightly to get into an embrace. "Finally," you murmur into the skin of his neck.

The sensation makes him shiver. “What do you mean?"

"I’ve been trying to get you into my bed for weeks."

He nearly chokes on his own sharp inhale. "I—what?"

"Not like that," you clarify. "I just wanted a good opportunity to confess. I figured you'd be too comfy in bed to run off right after I told you."

“You think I'd run off on you?"

You shrug. “You tend to remove yourself from a situation if your feelings get too intense. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case, it’s the last thing I wanted to happen, you know?”

"Yeah, I get that,” he says. "I promise not to do it with you, though. About anything.”

You lift your head to look him in the eyes. “Kiss me again."

Spencer does.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

smut follow up: hands to myself

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 17 - Mind Games [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, angst.

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Love demands sacrifices.

Not even once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in handcuffs, in an interrogation room on the wrong side of the table.

You weren’t even at the FBI headquarters though. The police had taken you to the station after the hospital, taking a blood sample and your fingerprints, then they had handcuffed you and left you there with a glass of water.

Of course they suspected you. Of course they thought you had murdered him.

Murder was your father’s legacy, after all.

You traced the handcuffs over your wrists, already feeling the bruises forming there. The shock still hadn’t worn off but you were starting to think it was a good thing. It felt as if you were watching all of this from behind some kind of glass window, perfectly aware of every single emotion but unable to actually feel them.

Spencer had said when you felt threatened, your body produced nervous energy, some sort of a fight or flight reaction but for once you weren’t trying to do any of that.

You just sat there, completely frozen.

“You look calm,” the police officer spoke, making you look up, trying to ignore the faint yelling coming from outside, possibly from the end of the hall.  

“I’m sorry?”

“Most people would be traumatized if this happened to them, they’d be crying, shaking…” he motioned at you, “But look at you. Still as a statue. You look pretty calm.”

“Would you rather if I were crying?”

“I’d rather if you were acting like a human being,” he said, “Why are you so calm?”

Why were you so calm?

Because your mother had taught you this much. Showing emotion when you were afraid meant weakness.

“My father was a serial killer,” you stated, looking him dead in the eye, “I’ve had a complicated childhood.”

“Yeah, I’d say…” he leaned in slightly, “You know, I’ve watched that documentary about your father. His interviews too.”

You raised your brows as he sniffled, trying to look like he was nonchalant about this whole situation.

“And I’ve spent sixteen years on this job,” he said, “After a while, you don’t even need anyone to speak for you to know what they’ve done. It’s all in their eyes and little girl,” he clicked his tongue, “There’s nothing behind your eyes but ice and death.”

You couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of people, not even if they tried to kill you. No matter how much they tried to hurt you-

No emotions.

“Impressive,” you managed to say, “Very poetic. Have you ever considered changing your career?”

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

“I think you wanted to follow your father’s footsteps,” he said, “I think you killed Anthony, and all those other people. It’s not even your fault, is it? Some people are just born broken.”

That was more than enough to make your eyes snap up to his and you could feel the lump in your throat but you bit your tongue so hard that you swallowed blood, making sure to keep your expression still.

“Nothing to say?”

“You’ve already decided what to think of me,” you said, “And I already told you what happened. What more do you want to hear?”

“Right,” he scoffed, taking a look at the file in front of him, “You went to bed around 12, didn’t wake up whole night, when you woke up you found him like that. Lying in a pool of his own blood, in your kitchen.”

“You don’t look like a whiskey girl.” an unfamiliar voice made you turn your head and you lowered your glass, tilting your head. The guy smiled at you, and stole a look at the whiskey glass you had put on the bar.

“Yeah?” you asked, “What girl am I then? If you’re such an expert?”

He thought for a moment, “Hmm, wine?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“What kind of an occasion does whiskey call for?”

“Apparently an occasion for meeting guys with bad pick-up lines.”

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, I swear I’m normally smoother than this.”

“I would hope so,” you grinned, and offered your hand, “Y/N.”

“Anthony.”

“But you failed to mention the part you texted him to come to your apartment.”

“I didn’t text anyone.”

“We have your phone Y/N.”

“I didn’t text anyone,” you repeated, “Someone must’ve drugged me and taken my phone, the same person who killed him, the same person who obviously broke into my apartment.”

“How convenient.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I always wake up during night,” you said, your voice completely calm and controlled. “Always. I never woke up last night, there has to be a reason for that.”

“If you’ve been drugged, it will come up on the blood tests.”

“Good.”

“While we wait for that,” he said, “Why don’t we go over what you did last night?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said “Went to work. I left work at 7 to go to my sister’s place. I left there around eleven, came home and went to bed.”

“Nothing else happened.”

“Nothing else happened,” you repeated and he sat up straighter.

“Okay. Well just so you know, Dr. Spencer Reid—” he started and your head shot up, your heart slamming against your chest, “He is giving us his professional opinion at the moment, about this case and what might have really happened this morning. Do you have anything you want to change in your story before he’s finished?”

You gawked at him, blinking a couple of times before you turned your head to look at the one-way mirror on the wall.

The BAU was there, behind the mirror.

“….They came back?”

“We’ve sent them the report, yes. They landed an hour ago.”

It was as if somebody was trying to claw your stomach out of your body as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the burning behind your eyes before you turned to the officer.

“I don’t have anything to change,” you managed to keep your voice stable, “It was a terrible thing, it definitely was but I didn’t do it.”

Someone knocked on the mirror, making you and the officer look that way before he pushed his chair back and left the interrogation room. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on your breathing through the blinding headache but opened your eyes when the door opened again.

Luke.

He offered you a small smile and pulled himself a chair.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, sitting up with your back straight, your hands clasped.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you stole a look at the one-way mirror, “Is he there?”

“Reid?” Luke asked and shook his head, “I had to basically wrestle him out of the hall, he’s…he’s not allowed here. Conflict of interest. He’s giving his statement at the end of the hall as we speak.”

You nodded, digging your fingernails into your palms. “Okay.”

“He also called your sister on our way here. Couldn’t reach her, but left a message. Listen, he can’t request it on your behalf, but you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“I didn’t kill Anthony.”

“I didn’t ask if you killed him, I’m saying you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“Does he think I did it?” you asked and Luke shook his head again.

“No,” he said, “But it doesn’t matter what anyone else believes at this point, Y/N. Ask for a lawyer.”

You kept your back straight, rolling your shoulders. “If Spencer left a message to Mina, she’s coming.”

“Is she a defense lawyer?”

“No but she knows a lot of them.”

He took a deep breath and put the bottle of your pills on the desk, “The officers also found this.”

You tried your hardest to focus, moving your wrists to help with the soreness of the handcuffs. “They’re prescribed.”

“I can see that. The side effects say confusion?”

You arched a brow, “I’m sorry, do I sound confused to you right now?”

“No, you sound way too controlled right now, I may as well have been talking to a robot.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to control the panic bubbling at the pit of your stomach, sending anger through your veins.

“I’m not confused,” you stated, “Besides, I haven’t been taking them lately.”

He threw his head back, pressing his lips together, “God, Y/N, you can’t say that. A psychiatrist prescribed you something and you—“

“They’re just for nightmares, they don’t make you…” you took a deep breath, commanding yourself to stay calm, “I didn’t kill him. I found him like that. It was terrible, but I didn’t do it.”

Someone opened the door again and Emily Prentiss cleared her throat.

“Luke,” she murmured, “Spencer.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat upon hearing his name but kept completely still as Luke left the room and Emily and JJ walked into the room.

“You’re taking turns now?” you asked and Emily cleared her throat,

“Me and JJ are the only people in our team who haven’t spent as much time with you, so we figured it would be better if we interrogated you.”

“I didn’t do it.”

Emily pulled herself a chair as JJ crossed her arms, standing by the wall.

“Can you walk me through what happened this morning?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said, “With a headache. I knew something was wrong, I felt it. My window was open, the front door was half open and my phone wasn’t where I left it. I stepped outside my room, saw the blood, went to the kitchen and saw—“ you gritted your teeth and clenched your fists, “Saw my ex-boyfriend there. Dead. Lying in a pool of his blood.”

“But you heard nothing.”

“I never sleep for the whole night,” you said slowly, “Check my blood test. Something happened last night.”

“We don’t have your blood test results yet, but there was no sign of any sexual—“

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” You cut her off, a shiver running down your spine, “That’s not it. Whoever it was, they didn’t touch me, they wanted…”

“What did they want?”

You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know. They wanted me to see it I think. My…my father’s crime scenes.”

JJ took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall.

“And you don’t think it’s a little too convenient?”

You pulled your brows together, looking at her and she stepped closer to the table, her eyes fixed on you.

“Two victims so far,” she said, “The ones that we knew that were in the same place as you, they had some connection to you. That woman who was killed at the charity ball, you didn’t get along when you were kids, you turned her down as a client before she was killed, and now your ex-boyfriend ends up dead, in your apartment because you sent him a—“ she scoffed, “I’m sorry, someone sent him a late night text, inviting him to your apartment.”

“JJ,” Emily started but JJ held up a hand while you tried to wrap your head around it.

She had a point. Two victims so far had some connection to you and that was not a coincidence, it couldn’t have been.

“You think I did it,” you rasped out and she scoffed.

“I think you had something to do with all of this,” she said, “I think you’ve been trying to manipulate Spencer for something. The best case scenario, you were cheating, that’s why Anthony was there and something went bad, the worst case….” She shook her head, “You’re behind every single murder we’ve been looking into, and Spencer was just a tool for you. He’s my best friend, and if I find one single proof that you put him in harm’s way, I swear to God I will destroy you.”

Two people had ended up dead, and that was your fault. The copycat was going after people who had some kind of connection to you, and apparently no one except you and your family was safe.

The idea was way too painful to even exist inside your head, but it was clear as day. JJ was right, you were putting Spencer in harm’s way just by being with him, and if it were him, if you had seen him lying in a pool of his blood, his eyes wide open—

You dug your fingernails into your palms until it hurt before you managed to lift your head, that invisible wall which kept you safe from anyone and everyone who could possibly see anything you felt going up again.

“You…” you trailed off, your throat burning, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked but before you could say anything, someone slammed the door open, making you and the agents turn.

Mina.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she asked no one in particular and stepped aside so that 4 lawyers could walk inside before the police officer rushed to you to remove the handcuffs off your wrists.

“You’re not saying another word,” she snapped her fingers, “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“We’re going to need her to sign some papers,” the officer said as Mina grabbed your wrist to pull you out of the room, making you hiss in a breath and she froze, lowering her glances to check your sore wrists for any bruises.

“What did they do to you?”

You shook your head silently, and something in Mina’s gaze shifted. You had seen it only a couple of times, including that time you were getting stitches after some girls in your classroom had ambushed you in the bathroom, and more importantly, you had seen that look on her face when Lily had fever that one time and you all had to rush to the hospital and the doctors said she couldn’t see her.

It was fire, similar to yours, ready to burn everything in its path.

“Don’t say anything to anyone. You two,” she motioned at the two lawyers, “Read whatever she’s supposed to sign.”

The lawyers approached the desk by the door as Mina put her coat over your shoulders, rubbing at your arms as you swayed slightly on your feet, trying to focus.

“We’re leaving, okay sweetheart?”

“Miss—“

“No,” When Mina turned to the police officers and the BAU team, any trace of softness in her voice disappeared, “You don’t talk. If you don’t want to get into even more trouble, you’re going to listen to me right now.”

The officer that had been with you at the interrogation room just blinked a couple of times, obviously taken aback.

“Do you have any idea what you just did to yourself?” she asked, “What you did to this whole precinct? Because allow me to explain, my sister was a victim in this scenario, and you tried to pin this shit on her to make her a scapegoat,” she shook her head, “We will be suing you for defamation of character—“

“Mina, your sister—” JJ started but she snapped her fingers at her.

“I haven’t even started with you yet, wait for your turn.”

“Mina…” you murmured but she didn’t even look like she could hear you,

“Where was I? Defamation of character because press will be all over this, intentional infliction of emotional stress and wrongful arrest and hey, to make things fun we will also be requesting the security footage in the interrogation room and if I see one very small slip of anything that wasn’t supposed to be said and done in that room…” Mina tilted her head, “Well, let’s just say that by the time I’m done with you guys and this whole precinct, the only thing you will be able to afford is going to be a typewriter and a desk.”

One of the lawyers came to tell you the document was alright to sign and as soon as you approached the desk, a door by the hall opened and Spencer stepped out.

It was almost excruciating not to be able to run to him. He looked as shocked as he was and he took a step towards you but JJ stepped in front of him as you grabbed the pen, ignoring the way your name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

“Oh, hi genius.” Mina called out, “Were you getting a glass of water while your team was hounding my sister or something?”

Spencer looked almost confused only for a moment before he turned to look at JJ who deliberately averted her glances from him.

“Mina, this is not necessary,” you croaked out as you signed the papers and she shook her head.

“No, this is very necessary, trust me. You need to show these people what you’re capable of or they will try to fuck you up, case and point.” She turned to Emily, “You’re the one in charge, I suppose?”

“I am.”

“Good. Consider this your warning, because the next time anyone in your team, including the puppy dog eyes over there gets any closer to my sister, we will be getting a restraining order for each and every one of you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, still swaying on your feet and you hugged the coat around you tighter.

Not that you could do anything other than watching this.

“Your sister is an active part of this investigation, your father specifically asked for—“

“My sister is a civilian,” Mina growled, “She has no responsibility for this case, you do. How about you surprise me and do your fucking jobs?”

You took a breath to say it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t their fault but Mina turned to look at you.

“Get in the elevator, we’re leaving.”

You were way too tired to fight her, way too tired to even stand there so you followed the army of lawyers to the elevator, while Mina shot the officers and the BAU members a fake smile.

“Pleasure, let’s never do this again,” she said, and got in the elevator with you, and you tried to keep your expression still, Spencer staring at you until the doors slid close.

“4 lawyers?” you managed to say, “I don’t think even Bundy had four lawyers.”

“Tell that to mom,” she said, “She was on the phone with a congressman the last I checked.”

You couldn’t even smile at that, but Mina let out a breath before pulling you into a bone crushing hug, making the tears rush to your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her.

“Never do that to me again, you hear me?” her voice cracked for the first time and you nodded slowly.

“I won’t,” you said, “I promise.”

                                                   ***

It was as if someone had pulled all your energy out of your body. You were exhausted, you could barely understand what anyone was saying but you knew there was no way you could sleep anytime soon.

The blood test, as the lawyers had informed you, finally came back and just like you suspected, they had found traces of chloroform in your system. That and your team of lawyers combined were more than enough to get rid of any kind of accusations against you, so at least you had that.

On the other hand, the fear, the guilt, the sadness were still there inside of you, even if you felt way too numb to reach it.

You wondered if Spencer would have a scientific explanation for that.

Your mother had insisted you would never step a foot into your apartment again, she was already looking for a new apartment for you, one with multiple security systems and until that happened she had told you you would be staying at her house.

The damn thing was way too big anyway and you and Mina had grown up there so you figured it would serve as some sort of shelter.

If it even existed for you.

“Here you go sweetheart,” your mother pushed the tea cup towards you, “Drink it, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m fine.”

Kenzie heaved a sigh, “It’s okay if you’re not,” she said, “No one expects you to, anyone would be traumatized.”

“The real estate agent already sent me three apartments,” your mother said, “Huge windows, you love a bright apartment.”

“Mom,” Mina said silently and she heaved a sigh.

“It could help her distract herself,” her head shot up, “Y/N, you should go on a vacation! Somewhere far away from here.”

“Somewhere peaceful could be nice?” Kenzie added, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You and Mina exchanged glances.

“I heard Fiji is lovely this time of the year,” your mother said and you let out a breath.

“Mom, two people died because of me,” you croaked out, “I’m not going to Fiji for vacation.”

“Honey, you could use some peace,” she held your chin carefully and lifted it so that she could look at you better, “You look so…”

“I look like how I feel,” you said and turned your head when the doorbell rang, making Mina sit up straighter.

“Who’s that?” she asked when the maid walked in.

“Spencer Reid?”

“What?” you and Kenzie asked at the same time, your heartbeat getting faster and Mina jumped on her feet but you stopped her, shaking your head.

“It’s okay,” you sniffled, nodding to yourself, “It’s….it’s fine. There’s no point in dragging it out.”

“Dragging what out?” Mina asked you but you walked out of the living room and reached the front door, trying to ignore the warmth filling your system as soon as your eyes caught the sight of him. You stepped out of the house and he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his nose into your hair and inhaling deeply as if it helped him calm down while you just stood there, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

You had to do it. No matter how much it hurt you, no matter how much you didn’t want to.

No matter how badly it would rip your heart out.

“You okay?” he asked you, his fingers pushing your hair behind your ear, “I tried your apartment but I figured…”

“Yeah, I’m not going back there,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll move out, it’s fine.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” he asked quickly and you closed your eyes for a moment, every cell in your body begging you to change your mind.

You couldn’t though. You’d rather die than see him lying in a pool of his blood, all because of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered and opened your eyes again, “Please don’t say that.”

He looked almost confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy before it dawned on him.

“Is this about the file on me?”

You shook your head and he took a deep breath.

“About today?”

“I didn’t send that message,” you said, “To Anthony, I mean. I wouldn’t…. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that.”

“And I didn’t kill him. I don’t know if you heard, but the blood tests came back positive for—”

“I never doubted that, not even for one second,” he insisted, “With or without blood test.”

“You might be the only one,” you murmured and he paused for a moment.

“What did JJ say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Because we had an argument on the jet on our way back here and whatever she said…”

You shook your head again, trying to smile.

“I get it,” you murmured, “She’s your best friend, she’s protective of you. That’s normal.”

“Yeah but if she thinks that you’re capable of—”

“I want to break up.”

You could swear the words burned your mouth, some invisible hand clutching your heart tighter and tighter as you willed yourself to keep your eyes on the street, because you were sure that every wall you built to keep your emotions under control would crash down the moment you looked at him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that he froze and he blinked a couple of times, as if he was lost.

“What?” he asked silently and you tried to swallow the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

“Y/N, wait—no,” he said quickly, breathing hard, “Listen, whatever they said to you today during the interrogation, if that’s what this is about—”

“It has nothing to do with that,” you forced yourself to say, crossing your arms and he took a step closer to you.

“Whatever the problem is,” he rasped out, “We can solve it, okay? Don’t do this.”

That was when it dawned on you.

It wasn’t enough to push him away. You had to make sure to burn that bridge so that neither of you could ever find your way back to each other.

“It’s not one of your cases Spencer, you can’t solve this one,” you muttered and finally turned your head to look up at him, your stomach churning at the sight of betrayal on his face.

“I don’t understand.”

“You—it’s—“ you stammered, trying to find the words, “It’s going way too fast, alright? It’s going way too fast and it’s going to fucking crash, and I can’t—“ you cleared your throat when your voice cracked, “I’m not going to crash with this, I can’t.”

Your father had taught you this way too long ago, when you were too young to even question it.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

Stab the prey.

“I mean come on Spencer, we’re not in love or anything,” you shrugged your shoulders, “Should be easy enough.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed, shock written all over his face.

“We’re not in love?” he repeated, “You…you don’t love me?”

Twist the knife.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

His eyes searched your face, as if looking for any kind of clue that could tell him you were lying, or that it was a trick but for once, it was in vain.

You’d had spent years learning how to control your emotions and your expression when it came to heartbreak.

Pull it back.

“It’s not my fault if you’re in love,” you said, each word making you hate yourself more and more, “I can’t be held responsible for that.”

Stabbing yourself would’ve been less painful, you were sure of that but you knew you had to keep going. One last step, one last sentence and you would be done.

Watch them bleed.

“I never told you to love me.”

Then, silence.

You had to give it to him though, it took him faster than it would’ve taken you to pull yourself together if you were the one on the receiving end of this. He blinked back the tears, clenched his jaw and in a second, his gaze turned cold, exactly like yours.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding, “You didn’t.”

But you had forgotten one small detail. 

Spencer knew how to withdraw that knife and stab back.

You cleared your throat and turned around to get inside the house but before you could step in, you heard his voice.

“I was wrong.”

You looked over your shoulder, clutching at the straws to keep it together, “I’m sorry?”

“I was wrong,” he stated, his voice was distant and held no trace of its usual warmth, “Before, I mean. In terms of behavior and psychology, you’re exactly your father’s daughter.”

With that, he walked away from the house, and you just stood there for a moment before stepping into the house and closing the door behind you, that comfortable haze of shock slowly withdrawing from your mind like mist. That hand squeezing your heart twisted it in your chest and you tried to breathe, pressing a hand on your chest.

“Sweetheart?” your mother called out as she stepped into the hallway, then slowly approached you, “You okay?”

It was impossible to stop the tears rushing to your eyes now and a gasp escaped from your lips as you shook your head.

“Mom,” you whimpered, “Please, my—my heart hurts...”

She rushed to you and shushed you gently, pulling you into a tight hug and caressing your hair as you slipped to the ground and you buried your face to her shoulder.

Then the sobs came.

Chapter 18

[lifeinpoetry]

At a follow up appointment I lightheartedly tell Daddy psychiatrist that the ADHD meds make alcohol feel more intense, more potent. Immediately, he’s suspicious, eyes tight behind his glasses. As if perhaps the definition of abuse is to combine a prescribed drug with a legal one, or like perhaps it’s my fault that the effects last all day. The body processes the meds and the drinks in the same way, he barks; he’s only looking out for my liver. He gives me a tight follow up prescription, suddenly I might be a wayward drug abuser rather than a legitimate daily meds user, one a day and we’ll see you at the end of the month, no room for additional snorting; I’m a teen behind the bike shed or a bottom rung city banker sweating through my Jermyn Street collar. In his suspicion there is unexpressed fear: that sanctioned therapeutic use might be an unstable category, in need of protection from the gateway to meth-head, system-gamers like me, who need to be watched for their own good.

Maybe I should stop drinking, Daddy psychiatrist suggests. That’s not realistic, I say, thinking: bro, you are literally giving me speed, and it’s not lost on me that this is only legally ok because the pills mean I can do my job better, its as if David Cameron told me to put on a proper tie and I said yes, fantastic, I’ll pay £18 a month for it.

— Ray Filar, from "You’ve heard of Ritalin, now what if I told you governments make bodies into crime scenes for no reason at all,” We Want It All: An Anthology of Radical Trans Poetics, eds. Andrea Abi-Karam & Kay Gabriel

[uncloseted]

i related to effy an unhealthy amount when i was only 13 when i first watched it, but at the time i wasnt doing drugs, homewrecking, doing anything that young lol. however i was extremely mentally ill but undiagnosed, and so confused but i found solace in effys character because of how similar i felt to her. flashforward to being 20 now and im a nic addict/borderline drug and alcohol addict that forgets to take my prescribed antidepressants and antipsychotics. i cant tell you how many events of effys life have mirrored mine now 7 years later, both the pretty but mostly the ugly. it all feels like a joke to me, and the thing is of course it wasnt effy the fictional character that did this to me, it was the fact that i was genetically and epically set up to do this to me for as long as i existed and i saw myself in her too young. everyone ive ever met and started to befriend has fallen in love with me, has found me beautiful, and then seen my flaws and hated me even if they didnt tell me to my face. ive been a horrible friend and partner and im flighty and unreliable and destructive. i never saw effy, or a person like effy, find a happy ending and im afraid even when im at my manic highs i will never find a lasting happiness and will always accidentally self sabotage until i die. what im trying to ask is, how can i save me? i know its dumb to ask a random tumblr user but ive been following this blog since i was 13-14 and since you know effy through and through, you might know a little about me. its a long shot. (i’d also like to say this isnt a cry for help and im safe/not actively suicidal so i dont want you to feel like theres any pressure like that, but i did use this ask box as a free therapy session.)

I'm a bit biased, but I don't think there's anything wrong with asking a random Tumblr user at all. I'm happy to be a free therapy session when you need one, and I'm really touched that you've trusted me with your thoughts and feelings for so long. Hopefully I've been some help over the years 😆

Coping with mental illness can be really, really hard, but the good news is that with the right tools and support system, you can absolutely recover. It sounds like you already have a psychiatrist in your life, which is a great start. If you've having trouble remembering to take your medication, it might help to set calendar reminders on your phone, set up text prompts to remind you to take your pills, to link taking your pills with something else you do every day (like brushing your teeth or eating breakfast), or to reward yourself for taking your medication (for example, putting a piece of candy in your pill box that you can eat after taking your pill).

If you don't have one already, a therapist might also be a good idea. It can take a while to find the right therapist for you, so schedule a few appointments and see which therapist you "click" with. A therapist can help you work through any reluctance you might have towards taking you medications, as well as helping you come up with day to day strategies that help you achieve your goals and helping you work through the beliefs that you hold about yourself and the world that may be holding you back.

Moving on to talking about addiction for a bit. I strongly believe that addiction doesn't come from some type of inherent lack of willpower or moral failing, or even really the drug itself. It's the need to escape reality. And that's actually supported by scientific literature; most famously, the Rat Park experiment by Bruce K Alexander. Practically, we've seen that same thing in the aftermath of Portugal's decision to decriminalize all drugs. They took the money they were using to keep drug users in prison, and instead invested that money into reconnecting people who struggle with addiction to society. Their goal was to make sure that every person who struggles with addiction has a reason to get up in the morning and has a support system within the wider society. And it actually worked- injection drug use is down 50%, overdoses and HIV infections have massively decreased, and rates of addiction decreased as well. It's much easier to quit when you have something motivating you to keep going.

Why am I telling you all of this? I guess what I'm trying to get at is in order to recover from addiction, I think first people need to understand what the reality is that they're trying to escape. What can be done about those issues? Who's in your corner trying to support you, even if they're not doing the best job at it? Where else can you get the social support you might need? What are you passionate about? What would make it feel worth it to get up in the morning? I think instead of focusing on the drugs, or the alcohol, or the cigarettes, maybe we should focus on solving the root problems that make those attractive options. That's one of the reasons a therapist is a really good idea; they can help you figure out what those root problems are, and provide resources and tools to help you fix those problems.

In terms of practical, do it yourself advice for dealing with addiction, there are a couple things you might try. I did a whole post on evidence-based ways to set goals and follow through on them here, so I won't rehash it in this post, but basically:

Try to set goals that are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time bound. For you, this might be something like "My goal is to have only one drink a day (measurable and achievable) for week (time bound) so that I can be more reliable for my friends (relevant)".

Instead of trying to quit something, replace it with something else. For example, "when I feel like smoking, I'm going to do ten minutes of learning Korean instead". Learning something new is easier and more exciting, and so new habits are easier to maintain that breaking old ones. Find a new hobby that you've always wanted to do or that's exciting to you, and try to focus your energies on that to distract yourself.

Identify any obstacles (such as environmental triggers) that you might run into, and develop contingency plans for working around them. This might be something like, "when I drink coffee in the morning, I want to smoke, so I'm going to switch to tea instead." If you can, get rid of all environmental triggers that might remind you of your addiction or trigger a craving.

Get someone else involved. Tell a friend about your goal and have them check up on you. Your fear of disappointing them will help you stay on track.

Put money on the line. Give money to a friend with the understanding that you'll get it back at a set date if you've achieved the goal you set. Tell your friend that if you fail, they should donate the money to a group or cause you really hate.

Write down the reasons you want to quit, and put them somewhere you know you'll see them. Whenever you want to engage in an addiction behavior, read through that list first.

For bonus points, add to that list your contingency plan for when you want to engage in an addiction behavior. These may include ways to redirect your attention or distract yourself until the craving passes.

76% of people who wrote down their goals, actions and provided weekly progress to a friend successfully achieved their goals.

You might also try an addiction recovery app, such as these, or doing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy worksheets on your own if you can't access a therapist right now.

There are also some things you can try in order to improve your mood. As much as I hate that this is true, consistent exercise has a huge impact on mood. If you can, try taking a 20 minute walk outside, 3 times a week. Other (boring) things, like making sure you're getting 7-9 hours of sleep a night and eating regularly, can also make a big difference in mood. Some of you might know that I'm a little bit obsessed with the free Coursera class "The Science of Well-Being". It has a lot of great evidence-based tips and tricks for how to build happiness, and I highly recommend it if you're trying to live a happier life. These include things like journaling, meditating, noting things that you're grateful for, helping other people, and having regular social interactions.

Finally, a few philosophical thoughts. One of the Four Noble Truths in Buddhism is dukkha. Basically, this is the idea that suffering is an innate characteristic of existence in our world. When I was younger, I never liked this concept, but I think now I kind of get it. It's impossible to be happy 100% of the time, and that shouldn't be our goal. Suffering is the comparison by which our lives gain meaning. But we can do our best to minimize our suffering and the suffering of others, and ride the wave of suffering when it does come. And each time we ride that wave, we can learn techniques to manage it a little bit better, and to make it easier the next time. We will sometimes sabotage ourselves out of fear, but we can learn how to do it less frequently and for the consequences to be less dire. We can learn how to forgive ourselves for our flaws and what we've done in the past, and learn from those mistakes so we don't do them again in the future. It's also okay to backslide, to struggle even after you've made progress. You're never back where you started, because you've always learned more and experienced more.

I know I've thrown kind of a lot at you in this post, and I don't expect you to try all of it or for all of it to work, but hopefully something in there is helpful to you. You can get through this. You can save yourself, but please, also remember to let others help save you. You don't need to do this on your own. And just like I have been since you were 13, I'm always here to give a free therapy session and to lend my support ❤️❤️❤️

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #374

“doctor, doctor, won’t you please prescribe me something?  /  a day in the life of someone else...”

Does someone have a crush on you but you don’t feel the same way? No. Who do you feel most beautiful around? No one. What’s one makeup item you cannot live without? I could live without any makeup. What’s the most expensive thing you own? My snake, I think. Or my laptop, idr. Are you more of a book person or a TV person? Book. Relationship status? Single. What color are most of your clothes? Black. Did you french kiss before you were 16? No, I was 16. Last song you listened to? "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. Would you ever go back to any of your past relationships? Yes. What’s your favorite thing about life? That's a big question. I guess seeing acts of mass love and kindness, reminders that we're all in this together through all hardships. Who pays for the first date? Whoever asked the other person out, imo. Who has always been there for you? My mom. Have you ever written on a wall? No, at least not to my memory. Do you play any computer games, if so, what ones? I think anyone who reads these by now knows, haha. I don't much play anything else. I prefer console games. What would you name a baby boy if you had one? Probably Damien or Victor. What would you name a baby girl if you had one? Alessandra, no questions asked. What lyric means the most to you? I mean there's tons, but the first one that came to mind is "for such a little thing, you sure are in your own way" from "Get Up" by Mother Mother. Like in the big picture, we humans are so so so minuscule, but with brains that are too complicated for our own good. It's my own head that creates so many obstacles for me. Who is the smartest person you know? Probably my friend Girt. Have your parents ever been to jail? No. Do you share a bed with anyone? My cat, haha. Does it flatter you when guys open doors for you? It's flattering if anyone does, not just guys. Do you enjoy taking naps? Yeah. That's like part of my daily routine. If your friend asked you to hold their drugs, would you? Nope. Is there anyone you try to be a good influence for? My nieces and nephew, but I don't feel like I am. I'm a poor example of an adult. Do you own a pair of fishnets? No, but I have a pair of fingerless fishnet gloves. Which do you prefer: french toast, bagels, pancakes, waffles, bacon or cereal? All are great, but french toast. Yes or no: eyebrow piercings? I'd actually have one if I didn't have glasses. I think I'd look weird with one as I look now. When I say "The Beatles," what is the first song that comes to mind? "Hey, Jude." In your opinion, what is the very worst type of weather? Extremely hot and humid. You can only listen to one band for the rest of your life, who do you pick? Ozzy Osbourne, of course. Can you snap with both of your hands? Yeah, but it's harder with my left. What is something that you had to learn the hard way? For some people, promises don't mean shit. If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you paint it? Maybe like a light peach. When was the last time you got butterflies? I think not since Sara told me I look really pretty in eyeliner. ;_; <3 When was the last time you felt like your heart was actually breaking? There was this one time I was listening to "The Ghost of You" by MCR a while after finding out about Jason's mom's death and I just like... broke. When’s the last time you were in a line? When I was getting my second COVID shot. Do you trust the media? HA! Fuck no. If you could kill off one species of animal, which would it be? At first I was appalled by this question, but like... do wasps serve a purpose? Of all fauna, they annoy me the most. I mean bees are already endangered enough, and they prey on them. They don't pollinate, so like... why are you here. I may be mistaken and they have a valuable role, in which case I take all this back. Who’d you last say I love you to? My mom. What’s the most overpaid job in your opinion? I have on idea. Most jobs are underpaid. What’s the last thing you wrote down? I was doing some paperwork at the TMS office on my first day there. When’s the last time you heard a gunshot? I don’t know. What are you looking forward to? Now that my tattoo (which looks fucking stunning, by the way) is out of the way, I can focus on other things. I'm particularly looking forward to hopefully seeing the results of TMS manifest (which should take 3-4 weeks). It sounds horrible, but I'm also keenly awaiting this dog we're stuck with to go somewhere... The person who gave her to my sister to give my mom won't take the dog back, and we can't find another option that doesn't risk her being euthanized, which we absolutely do not want. We just don't know what to do, but she's driving Mom and me INSANE. Do you listen to online radio stations? No. Have you ever done something sexual that you regret? No. Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? Multiple things. Have you ever ate so much you puked? Ugh, no. That sounds awful. Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance? Very much, sadly. Would you rather eat cookies or brownies? I gotta say brownies. Which YouTuber have you learned the most from? I mean, this depends on the subject. From Mark, I've learned most about life and how (I think) to be a good person, but there's a lot of pet channels I watch that have taught me loads about proper husbandry. This answer just depends on what knowledge you're talkin' about. Who would you want to be the flower girl at your wedding? Probably a niece. Do you want to be married within the next ten years? It'd be nice. Do you feel like your life is too fast-paced, or do you wish it were busier? Ugh, I wish it was busier. My days are a COMPLETE, routine drag. What are some hobbies which you want to pick up? I want to just be more artsy. I wanna draw and write more, and I'd love love love to be in healthy enough shape to handle going on walks with my camera. There are sometimes I miss editing videos, too. I'm unsure about completely new hobbies. Does anyone encourage you to go after your dreams? My family and a few friends. Oh, and definitely my psychiatrist. What group are you most active in on Facebook? None, really. I mostly just observe. Are you ashamed of anything? A number of things. Primarily not having a job at my age or even being in school. What were your favorite Disney rides as a kid? I loved Splash Mountain, I think it was called. What were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? Never been. What are some places you want to visit that you’ve never been? South Africa, Alaska, Canada, Yellowstone National Park, Bahamas, Venice, Rome... What are some places that you’ve been that you’d like to go to again? Disney World, Chicago, and this one super clear lake I swam in once a few hours away that I don't recall the name of. Have you ever owned a succulent? No. While they're pretty, I've never been much of a plant person. Do you support small businesses? I REALLY want to start doing that more when I have the option to buy my own stuff/have my own income. As someone who wants to be a freelance photographer, I get it. Starting an independent business is hard as hell. If a brand were to sponsor you, which brand(s) would you prefer? Uhhh I dunno. Have you read the entire Bible? No. Do you make bucket lists for each season? No. That does sound kinda fun, though. How old were you when you first dyed your hair? I have no idea. Do you dye your hair regularly? No. :/ I desperately want to, though. It's just not something we can afford to spare cash on. What is the most comfortable type of pants, in your opinion? Pajama pants? haha Do you think you could ever be famous? No. I'm way too boring and don't want to be anyway. What are some jobs you’ve had in the past? Sales associate, cashier, and deli worker. None lasted long whatsoever. What are some jobs you want to or would like to have? List five. FIVE? I don't know. I just know I want to be a photographer. Well, being an artist or poet would be very cool. And a reptile breeder, maybe tarantulas, too, but that makes me kinda nervous with JUST how many babies they have. What are some jobs you have considered? In rough order from youth to now: paleontologist, vet, movie director, game designer, author/poet, artist, music video editor, wildlife biologist, photographer... Maybe there's more that just aren't coming to me. Are you thankful for social media, or do you wish it didn’t exist? Depends on the day for me, but I'm generally thankful for it so I can keep up with the lives of people who are important to me. It's just that it's a breeding ground for self-doubt and rampant comparisons that can easily depress me when I see some people are "further ahead" and more "established" than me. What are some of the best medications you’ve ever had? The combined efforts of Latuda and Lamictal saved my life. What was a video you watched over and over as a kid? There were lots of movies, like The Lion King, a certain Barney one when I was very young, and I watched Finding Nemo like crazy. Do you know a lot of people who were loving, and then turned cold? Jason????????????????? Is that you??????????????????????????????????????????? Do you own anything plaid? Ha, what a coincidence, I'm wearing my red plaid pj pants. Are you good at remembering names? Definitely not. Have the cops ever gotten on to you for anything before? No. What email thingy do you use? (yahoo, gmail, rock) ... Rock? lol anyway my main is Hotmail, but I inevitably have a gmail to have a YouTube account. What game system(s) do you own? PS2, Wii, Nintendo DS Lite, and a GameBoy Advance. Are you any good at Guitar Hero? I used to be; I played most songs on Expert, then some really tough ones on Hard. I was soooooo addicted to those games. I remember when I got the first one for Christmas, I literally played it all day. Have you ever played Call of Duty? Nah, not my jam. What is your favorite/most visited website? YouTube. Is your bed comfortable? Sure. I've definitely had way worse. Do you have a garage? No. Fun fact, I've never lived in a house with one. Should you be doing anything right now? What? There's a number of things I could be doing that are definitely more productive, like finishing decorating my damn room. Do doctors or dentists make you more nervous? Not really. I only ever get nervous to hear my weight at the doctor's. Did you ever think you were about to die before? I don't quite know. When I ODed, it was more like I didn't care if I did. Have you ever really had a near death experience? Was it cool? "Was it cool." Literally fuck off. I guess you could technically consider my OD a "near death experience," especially given how many pills I took, yet I somehow experienced almost no ill symptoms. Maybe because we got to the ER for fluids quickly enough, idk. I'm just glad I didn't die. What is your favorite kind of weather? Snowy! Like a steady snowfall of large flakes with no breeze and total silence. *chef's kiss* Ever tasted beer? Ugh, no. Just the smell makes me sick. It was my dad's drink of choice when he was an alcoholic so I just have a very negative association with it. Have you ever seen a dead body? Yes, at an open-casket wake. Ever poured salt on a slug? As kids, my sisters and I would get our parents to do it because they grossed us out. So, so cruel. I still have this weird but pretty extreme phobia of them, but I wouldn't torture the things like that.

[asongofmanyfandoms]

Trigger warning: mental health, suicidal ideation, depression, anxiety

You were admitted the night prior. They had a man sitting in your room watching you while you slept. They had a woman sitting with you while you ate breakfast. The had either a man or a woman escorting you to every thing you could do out of the few options. And they still hadn’t given you any fucking drugs.

Your anxiety was at an all time high. You could hardly sleep through the night with the door to your room open and hearing screams or sobbing come and go as people battled through their night terrors or fits of psychosis. You knew that the people in here were suffering just as you but you also knew that some of them could be dangerous. This didn’t feel like the healing, safe environment that your therapist had convinced you it would be. 

Every action you did you could see a nurse writing it down and you would wonder if that had cost you more time here or not. Eating didn’t feel like an option when they would write you up for refusing food, So forcing at least half your tray of food to be swallowed when your anxiety was at an all time high made you nearly sick and need to lay down, which they wouldn’t let you do during the day. You just needed something to calm you down so that you could get through the 72 hours that you needed to to get out of there.

Group therapy was your first activity that you were brought in to do. The woman escorting you walked you by your upper arm and pointed to a chair she wanted you to sit in.

Other people were starting to come into the room, some were escorted by their one-on-ones and others were apparently trusted not to try to harm themselves or others 

A man with a white coat and round glasses came in and sat down in the seats that were positioned in a circle. He smiled at a few people and to you as well.

“Looks like we are just waiting for Patricia or whoever agrees to join us today.” The man nodded and began checking some things off of his board. You could hear every sound in the room, the clock ticking, the woman humming to your right. The bald man with one eye biting his nails, the plump woman shaking her leg so hard that every few seconds she would bounce a leg of her chair off the floor.

On the 227th click of the clock a man walked into the doorway. He moved with such a grace that you wondered if they were dancing. He held his neck long and he glided to his seat. For a second you lost track of the noises. He patted your shoulder as he walked past and sat down in a seat a few away from you.

“Hello, Patricia,” the doctor checked off once more on the clipboard and then he took a breath that bothered you the way his nose wheezed as he took it.

“Alright, let’s begin today with introductions again. We have a new group member who came by last night. Shall we begin with you Charlie?” The doctor looked to his left where the plump woman was sitting.

“Hi I’m Charlie and I’m here for anxiety and PTSD.” The woman smiled at you, the clock was at the 62nd click now since you restarted.

The next person went, “Joey, I have bi-polar disorder... type two.”

The next “Hey, Jenny,” she pointed at joey, “type one.” She seemed too happy to be in therapy. 75th click.

The doctor chimed in next and acknowledged a man in a wheelchair with a far off gaze, “this is Giuliani, he’s here for catatonic episodes, he has given me permission to share some basic facts during groups when we are together in group.” 91st click.

Patricia was sitting with the the most perfect posture that you had ever seen. He, maybe she, waved to you.

“Hello pretty girl,” when they spoke you became more confused of their gender but were more focused on how soothing and soft the voice was to your ears, finally something actually comforting here. “I’m Mrs. Patricia, I am the current host to this body. I am here for Dissociative Identity Disorder and during our time here you may meet several of my companions.” They smiled kindly at the end. You lost count again.

The bald man was next, “Hi, my name’s peter I’m here for depression.” Click 13.

The woman to your right turned to you and smiled. “I’m here for Borderline Personality disorder, anxiety, depression, and maybe ADHD or PTSD or a bunch of other things.” She laughed to herself and shrug her shoulders high, “just a lot of whatever.” Click 37.

You looked at Patricia who was kindly looking at you with her hands placed on her lap.

“Hi, I’m (name)...” you felt heavy trying to say what you were there for without it sounding surreal, “my therapist sent me here.” You felt weird saying it out loud and felt a lot of shame. The plump woman began shaking her leg again.

“Oh, thank you so much for sharing dear,” Patricia looked at you with sympathetic eyes. “We are very happy to have you here with us, and safe!” She began to clap in the silent room. No one else clapped with her. This felt unreal.

The doctor looked to you with a cocked head. “Is there anything else you’d like to say about why your therapist sent you here?” 

You swallowed and felt like you had to scream through ten layers of concrete to get your voice just to hoarsely let out “just give me the fucking vallum.” 

The doctor was mildly stunned by what you said but as his training taught him, he recaptured his control. “You can discuss medication with your psychiatrist, I’m not in a position to prescribe you medication.”

You felt your eye twitch. Click 127.

Patricia was staring at you with her mouth agape and you could see their posture and expression change as they stared at you the entire time.

“Ah, do we have someone else with us?”

“Sorry doc, I had to see her for myself.” Patricia’s voice had grown deep and they reached into their pocket to pull out a pair of glasses. They leaned forward in their chair clasping their hands together as they stared at you. For some reason you felt like it wasn’t just one person eating you up through their eyes.

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

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Chapter 11: Deja Vu

Danny Latimer's cliff, as the locals start calling it even when they already knew he was never tossed from there, was covered by a thick mist and the sea breeze coming from the ocean ahead of him was forcing Alec to lower his head and look at his feet.

For some reason he had listened to her and he was barefoot in the middle of that cold, however the soft hand pulling him to the edge was warm enough to make him ignore everything else.

She was dancing barefoot in the grass, in a floral dress that flew in the wind but was starting to get damp, and he was about to give her his jacket before she could catch a cold.

"Is beautiful isn't it?" Y/N said standing dangerously close to the edge and looking down to the sand hundreds of feet below. "It kind of makes you wanna jump"

"Why would you do that?" He said trying to pull her back to him, once she rise one leg in the air, taking an imaginary step.

"I don't, that's the point detective, also I wouldn't drag you down with me" Y/N said turning aside and rising her hand along with his, now being held by tight and big handcuffs. "Even when you put me here"

Her dress was gone and instead there was the prison white onesie on her, and her eyes were darkened by big bags underneath them, and he took a step away from her backwards crashing to something, he turned around to face Jonathan Norbury with a sad smile on his face.

"She did this" he said and bloodied spots were now visible on his clothes. "You know she did this" he repeated and then his legs finally responded and he tried to run...

Hardy wake up covered in sweat, disoriented since he was not in bed, but then he remembered, and his heart slowly went back to its normal rhythm. He look at clock on the wall 3:00 a.m. so he went to his office to try and get some work done before sunrise, he paced around the floor and finally decided to unlock her door, and cursed himself for getting sentimental about a simple dream.

Doctor Florence had sent him her medical records now under the proper police protocol, much to her dismay and he was reading it throughly, on a note in the margin she had written "Previously treated by a bawbag" he wondered who her previous physician was that make that educated woman talk, or write, like that.

Her actual diagnosis were Dissociative Amnesia, and General Anxiety Disorders, wich meant she sometimes have fugue states where she could do or say things she would later won't remember and also have panic attacks.

That only gave him more questions than answers but he kept reading. Apparently apart from those separate events the one at the bar and the one at school there was no recollection of other episodes in the last five years, at the time she meet Jonathan, and the lowest point of her condition, as he suspected, had been when her parents died.

There was a long list of medication she had been prescribed since she was 7 years old, among wich highlighted in green was Rohypnol, next to another pencil note "Numpty bastard" and he knew enough about the drug to understand the psychiatrist anger. She had removed every medication when she started treating her with good results until last Saturday, where she was completely absent for about forty minutes, according to her friend Ashley.

He made a mental note to ask her about that incident again since he haven't meet her personally, but that event kept coming back, and maybe there was something else to that night worth following.

He was completely absorbed in his reading that he didn't notice the sun rising on the shore, and only realized it was a new day when a loud noise came from somewhere in the house.

With all his senses in alert he took the gun he kept in a safe in his bottom drawer and walk outside his home office. The living room was empty, and he knocked on his bedroom without and answer, he opened the door and the room was empty with the bed well made.

He rushed to the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee and fried sausages took him by surprise. She was in front of his stove, wearing the same floral dress from his dream when he get there, and when she turned around for a brief moment he feared she would give him that sad haunted look that had waked him up, but she just had a surprise concerned look, and put the pan with the sausages down, rising her hands defeated.

"I'm sorry, that's a bit excessive isn't it?" She said pointing at his gun, and he embarrassed put it back on his pants.

"I heard a noise" He explained himself nervous "What are you doing?"

"Breakfast, or something like breakfast, you don't have much on your fridge, I mean broadchurch justice system can't survive if you go buy groceries?" She asked, and he didn't respond and only gave her the same look he give Miller when she showed at his house with food "Cups?" She asked and he pointed at a cabinet, although he was sure she already knew where everything was. "Coffee or tea?"

"I'm fine... thank you" he said and she ignored him and served him a cup anyway.

"I didn't poisoned it" she said once two plates were served and he kept staring at her.

"Where did you get those clothes?" He asked finally siting across the table from her.

"In London, it was a gift" She said and he raised an eyebrow "Beth went to my place after they gathered all the evidence and they gave her permission to bring me some clothes, I was getting tired of the donations, but don't tell Paul"

She ate his breakfast and barely look at him, so he did the same, finding completely odd that since Daze left he haven't use the kitchen island to have breakfast, spending most of his time at Miller's place or the Latimer's.

"So what time are we going to the station?" Y/N asked trying to sound casual, but he could note the fear in her voice.

"Miller is coming in a few minutes" he said looking at the clock, 7:45 am "But we are not going to the station"

"But I thought I'll have to get another evaluation" she said with some relief in her voice.

"You do, but since we don't have someone capable at the station, and that it is a very distressing environment we are going to paid a visit to doctor Florence" he said and she nodded, she stand up to pick the dishes. He saw his reflection on the metal napkin holder, and realized he needed to change his clothes so he excuse himself.

"You are not concerned I might runaway?" She asked playful while she opened the kitchen faucet, and he stop cold on his steps. "I'm kidding" she said and he kept walking.

By the time he was out of the shower and properly dressed he was taken by surprise since she was comfortably curled on his couch, reading a book, and an unfamiliar feeling form in his stomach, he coughed to call her attention and she looked guilty and flustered at him.

"Oh I'm sorry, you have a very interesting collection" She said putting the book aside, it was the script from a play Look Back in Anger "John Osborne, quite cynical" she said, and he tried to remind what that one was about.

"My..." he clear his throat "ex wife gave it to me"

"Why she thought you were Jimmy?" She said, and he almost blush remembering that the protagonist abandons and cheats on his wife Allison with her best friend.

"More like Allison" he said after a while.

"Oh that's worse" She said with a grin, and before he could answer with something clever, his mouth had gone dry when he saw her smile, Miller knocked on the door.

"Morning" she said giving a polite nod to Y/N and an inquisitive look at Hardy. "Are we ready sir?"

They walked outside his house with the teacher in the back seat, in almost complete silence, interrupted by Miller and Y/N's comments on the weather. By the time they arrived at the doctor's office it was empty and Alec wondered if she had made that on purpose for them. She greeted them and she looked very carefully at Miller making him anxious, he sited down while she filled the legal formalities before the test.

"Bit of a deja vu" Y/N said, and he didn't understand her "The first time I saw you, I mean you had a sweater not a suit, but I have this dress, so is kind of the same" She smiled and his mind was partially calmed since now he knew why it looked so familiar. "Wish me luck" she said once she passed next to him to get inside the office, he only gave her a nod, and she rolled her eyes at him with a smile.

"She is going to be there a while, have you eat?" Miller said after fifteen minutes.

"Yeah, I had breakfast earlier" He said, not giving much attention.

"Really? When?" She said since it was not his regular behavior.

"At home, Y/N..." Miller eyes went wide and he was not sure of what to say "Miss Y/L/N cooked some sausages and coffee" again that unfamiliar sensation in his stomach.

"That's interesting" She said and he knew she wanted to say something else but he was not in the mood to listen.

The doctor emerged after a while, and talk to them while the woman was still in her office.

"Well, your initial evaluation was more or less accurate" she said, looking at the paper the psychologist of the station had redacted. "She is non violent, and her mental state is basically stable, however yesterday event appears to be induced by the extreme emotional pressure she is enduring"She said and gave them a written report with more or less the same information.

"And? What about the man she said she saw at the bar, or the person driving her fiance's car?" Alec asked, but Miller already had anticipated the doctor's answer.

"There are technics to recover memories" she started calmly "But they are of no use in court for how easily the information can be contaminated with the examiner biases, also she would be in a very vulnerable mental state" she said concerned first and foremost by her patient mental health.

"So you can't do it?" Miller said, knowing now how easily evidence could turn against them in court.

"I can, but I will strongly recommend Miss Y/L/N contact her lawyer first, and have a proper discussion before she decides to do such a thing."

"I'll do it" Her voice surprised them, she was standing in front of the doctor's office. "I don't want a lawyer, so far I don't think I need one, and if I did something bad, I think I need to know, can we do it today?"

"Y/N, this is not an easy procedure, and much of the things you'll see won't be real, you should really think about it" the doctor said concerned, and Ellie thought she was right and was hoping the teacher would listen, maybe with a lawyer present she would no longer had that unsettling feeling about her staying at Hardy's house.

"I have think about it, and you don't know how bad it is to have a piece of your life in complete darkness, I need to know, and the detectives can be in the interrogation, if this brings some light to Jonathan's case, I have to do it" She said, and Hardy tried his best to look away from her.

"Fine, if that is your choice is fine" the doctor said.

"Can she do it today then?" Alec said finally.

"Sure, wait here for a moment and we can do it" she said and call her assistant to get her equipment ready.

Y/N sitted on the waiting room while Hardy looked at Miller with one of those understanding glances they used to share before, she was worried about him being too involved, and he was worried about Y/N's well being, and even when this was a necessary step in the investigation it also was concerning.

Half an hour later Dr. Florence called them in, and the three of them went inside, feeling that something was definitely about to change.

Tag list:

@allonsymexgirl @laciesaito @tf18unipups @dazedkrosupreme @timey-wimey-lovi

[watch-n-playlist]

How HBO's Euphoria Addresses Substance Use Disorder & Other Mental Health Issues

With this month being minority mental health month, I’ve decided to dedicate my Watch-N-Playlist blog posts to mental health related topics within TV, Film, and music, specifically those involving minorities. As a minority who used to want to be a psychiatrist (but decided medical school was a no go) I still have interests in the topics of mental health, psychology, and sociology. And, since I did grow up with a negative stigma around seeking mental health help & received inaccurate portrayals of mental health disorders from TV & Film, I think it is important to shed light on mental health issues and how they are displayed in the media, in an effort to help eliminate stigmas and get rid of misinformation.

Euphoria is one of my favorite shows that involves some of my favorite people, actress, Zendaya, rapper and producer of the show, Drake, and music supervisor, Jen Malone.

If you’re not familiar with the show you can read a full synopsis here.

I read an article entitled Why Rue’s Bipolar Disorder In ‘Euphoria’ Is So Unlike Depictions We Usually See On TV and below are my *highlights/key takeaways regarding Bipolar Disorder:

The way Rue’s bipolar disorder is depicted in Euphoria is not necessarily new; though there have been many sensationalized portrayals of the disorder on TV and in movies, there have also been a handful of thoughtful and accurate ones — the extreme depictions still far outnumber the authentic ones, and Euphoria is helping to push back against lingering stereotypes previously enforced by pop culture.

Bipolar disorder causes people to experience extreme mood changes that can last anywhere from days to a year. The happy or “up” phases are called manic episodes, while the sad or “down” phases are called depressive episodes.

Rue shows all the symptoms of going through manic and depressive states, but because bipolar disorder is so misunderstood — and its effects are sometimes subtle — her friends and family simply think she’s having a rough time.

Depressive episodes are very similar to depression, so spotting manic periods is key to a bipolar diagnosis. However, media often portrays aggression and wild outbursts as an integral part of the diagnosis, which can lead to widespread misconceptions. Lucious’ mother in Empire, Pat in Silver Linings Playbook, and Dani’s sister in Midsommar are all examples of characters who are violent as a result of their bipolar disorder.

“It is really important for people not to think of [people living with bipolar disorder] as walking time-bombs that will destroy other people,” Dr. Ruth C. White told VH1 in 2016.This is why Euphoria’s portrayal of bipolar disorder is so necessary and refreshing. Rue’s manic state isn’t violent.

It’s an undramatic, realistic look at what it means to be bipolar, and how difficult that can make day-to-day life and even basic bodily functions.

I read an article/review entitled HBO’s ‘Euphoria’ Tackles Substance Use Disorder and Mental Illness in a Realistic Way and below are my *highlights/key takeaways regarding Substance Use Disorder:

The show portrays how truly difficult it is to navigate the world when you struggle with mental illness and use substances to cope.

Euphoria provides a frighteningly realistic glimpse into what it is like to struggle with mental illness and how using substances to cope can quickly grow into abusing those same substances.

The show could have taken the usual route that most media does, portraying the person with mental illness and substance abuse as a malevolent individual who is a danger to everyone around them. In reality, mental illness and SUD often look far more mundane.

The show’s protagonist, Rue Bennet, played by Zendaya, has an experience that many people who battle substance use disorder (SUD) can relate to; she has suffered emotional turmoil for as long as she can remember and began using substances to cope at a young age. According to the National Institute of Mental Health estimates that roughly 7.9 million adults have SUD and a co-occurring mental illness and vice versa.

Rue has a long history of mental illness including OCD, anxiety, and possibly even bipolar disorder, and is prescribed a cocktail of medications from a young age to help her manage her symptoms

The convergence of the two creates the perfect storm in her life resulting in drug misuse, overdose, and rehab.

Anyone who has used substances as a coping mechanism for mental illness understands this desire, to make the discomfort stop, at any cost — it’s often the tipping point that causes casual substance misuse to become a substance use disorder.

The show also frighteningly depicts the lengths that many with SUD will go to in order to get high, risking their safety and even their lives in doing so.

At some point, it isn’t about recreation anymore, it’s about survival. As much resolve as one has to quit using, it can all crumble in seconds with the right trigger.

In addition to Rue, another person’s substance use is highlighted in the show. Rue’s illicit drug use juxtaposed against the very legal and even mundane scene of a suburban housewife numbing herself with wine at dinner is unsettling, to say the least.

Rue makes what seems like a genuine attempt at staying clean, after her best friend, Jules, threatened to end their friendship if she didn’t stop using drugs. She doesn’t want to use, but she is compelled to and doesn’t know how to cope with life’s struggles and her own mental illness without chemical assistance. This portrayal of craving and eventual relapse is shockingly accurate.

I have seen people who struggle with SUD lie to themselves and others about their substance use, believing that if they can just convince everyone that it’s not a problem, then it won’t be.

*These are just my highlights from the article read the full article by clicking the link below:

https://www.thetemper.com/hbo-euphoria-review/

https://www.bustle.com/p/why-rues-bipolar-disorder-in-euphoria-is-so-unlike-depictions-we-usually-see-on-tv-18364406

Learn more about Substance Use Disorder here

Learn more about Bipolar Disorder here

If you or someone you know is seeking help for mental health concerns, visit the National Alliance on Mental Health (NAMI) website, or call 1-800-950-NAMI(6264). For confidential treatment referrals, visit the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) website, or call the National Helpline at 1-800-662-HELP(4357). In an emergency, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK(8255) or call 911.

If you or someone you know is seeking help for substance use, call the SAMHSA National Helpline at 1-800-662-HELP(4357).

[claimingtheflame]

Lincoln Trail Mental Health Facility Part 1

Once again I want to reiterate that a lot of these posts are diaries I wrote never finished. Some of them jump around in my life. The story is about something that took place several years after D left

I remember the moment I turned in the paper. It was nothing. The last question asked my thoughts on the final death of Juliet. I sympathize. To this day I do. Many people probably do. She ended her life because she was in the grip of a mythic tragedy. Who could walk away from such a fate?

Except. Even though this is exactly how I felt, my teenage brain did not yet have the skills to articulate this. I ended up writing something like "I feel what juliet did was right. The world is ugly and filthy and who wants to live in it without someone you love." Because I was an edgy goth kid.

This would send me into the clutches of my own sort of tragedy. A brutal, destructive storm began churning that friday that would completely knock me out of my stupid unlaced combat boots on monday.

It happened like this. I walked into first period, Biology. I sat next to Adam, my closest friend. A knock came shortly after the period started and it turned out to be a senior girl who wanted me to be escorted to Mrs Mudds office. I did not know who that was. It turned out she was a counselor. She had coppery hair and a long, perky, somewhat simian face.

In this story, there is a long list of incompetant people who should not have had their jobs, and possibly should have been in prison. Mrs Mudd is not one of them. As much as I dislike her to this day. Maybe she did really mean well. Maybe she was just swept away by the drama of the whole situation. This is Elizabethtown KY after all.

We talked for a few hours. Looking back, I really don't think I said anything to her that should have been construed that I was depressed or suicidal. We talked about a secret place I visited in the woods behind my neighborhood. We talked about various religious beliefs and about music I listened to. Either way, my mom picked me up from school and I was somewhat excited for the break-in monotony.

We have drove to Lincoln Trail Behavioral Health Center , and I really didn't know what was happening. I had friends who had gone, but I didn't really believe that's why we were there until I saw the look on my mom's face as we walked in. There was a serious feeling of betrayal then. Like God woman haven't you put me through enough. This was an unfair thought. My mother is the second person blameless in the story. I would find out later that basically everybody from my school was telling her I was planning on killing myself quite literally. Mrs. Mudd had apparently told them that the place in the woods was my planned spot to die. I had self-harmed in the past. It was all pleasure related though and I thought it had nothing to do with my mental health. Either way it had been months prior to this, but it added to the Snowball Effect.

I'll admit that I didn't really understand my own mental health at this age. I had just been released from D's clutches only a few precious years earlier. I had no clue what was going on. I was going through a suspended childhood in many ways. All that said, Lincoln Trail Behavioral Health System did not help or address any my mental health issues. Let me reiterate. Aside from some experimental self harm 6 months prior(I received counseling, was evauted, etc), at age 15 I was pretty well behaved. I rarely got in trouble. I certainly never acted disturbed. Lincoln helped nobody who actually went there. In fact I barely escaped with my life and sanity. This is not a dramatic statement. This was a terrible place, as you will learn.

I was obviously scared the moment I walked into this place, all the stories I heard. We were buzzed through a security door after a few accusatory last looks at my mother when I went in quietly. I heard if you resisted or yelled that they gave you a shot in your ass of some kind of sedative. I did not want to give anybody the satisfaction roughing up the goth kid and shooting them in the ass. This was a short-lived Triumph. I would learn quickly that this place was not for me and that there was some horrible mistake pretty early on . I was led to a room and told to take off my clothes down to my underwear. I was told to turn around in front of this guy, who nodded with approval after watching and told me to put back on my clothes. I was wearing really baggy SpongeBob boxers. I guess I could have gotten away with hiding something into the facility. That's the thing. I wasn't a f****** delinquent. Not yet or not anymore depending on how you look at the chronology of things I did as a teenager. Anyway I do remember a kind moment here. The guard escorted me down a hallway and a girl smiled at me brightly. "It's really not that bad here." She said. I smiled and shrugged. This was more of a kind gesture than I realized, I would find this out later.

I was then led to the office of the first real fuckup in this story. This would be my counselor. I don't remember her name. She was somewhat nice to begin with. I'll call her mrs. Wannabe because later she would read a bunch of poems about her Native American ancestry. This extremely blond, blue-eyed woman with a square German face and freckles. Me and Wannabe would talk for about 30 minutes and she would send me on to my actual psychiatrist. I do remember this man's name. I will never forget it. His name was dr. Kodali. We can call him King fuckup. Fuckup prime.

He was a small man, with a small mustache, and skin the color between a beet and a russet potato. He spoke in broken English. He asked me why I thought I was there. I told him about the paper I wrote. He smiled and said " yes we all say things we don't mean. " he asked me if I follow the rules at home. I said yes as long as they are within reason. He laughed at me and said " my own daughter thinks several of my rules are not within reason. Children come to learn to obey. " we did not talk about depression, and this statement would turn out to be significant in many ways. It would come to outline the failure of this institution to children who actually suffered depression. Which I will admit that back then I might have been suffering from. Certainly anxiety. But who doesnt, to some degree?

Let us frame our Shit Pit King with what I didnt know about him before I explain my own experiences. He received kickbacks for pushing certain medicines. This is an important detail. He had been accused on several occasions of over-prescribing meds. He was widely hated as a doctor, and I can't believe he still has a job.

During my first visit, he was mostly dismissive. Interrupted me and laughed at me often. He was mostly interested in my behavior. If I acted up. If I respected authority. Literally nothing about suicide was discussed. So why did this guy prescribe meds at the end of our conversation? He picked up the phone, called my mother, and gave her the dosage information. I narrowly escaped this medicine, whatever it was, due to a surprising hero figure in the story who we will discuss later.

He dismissed me and I was sent to "group" for the first time. This is nothing like "support groups" you see in Lifetime movies. It was a huge room, an obnoxious amount of desk chairs crammed in a circle. Boys on one side. Girls on the other.

I immediately dislike this. It feels tense, and I feel scrutinized. I try to ask a girl near me if I can use one of her pencils. She folds her arms and rolls her eyes. " I can't talk to him." She says to the ceiling. This gets the attention of the counselor of the group, who is actually just an early 20-somethings aide of some kind, there are a few of these. This one I call Nick neckbeard. He says " we are here to work on our problems, not to date. " I am immediately embarrassed. I definitely wasn't trying to date anybody. I let it go but it does set the tone.

Since I am the new kid, a round of introductions is done. Not a lot of these people are notable other than the fact that a lot of them are in here for drugs. Some are in here as an in-between stage between Juvenile Detention and Society. I get the distinct feeling that most of the boys are here for drugs and violent crime. I reflect bitterly that I am in here for writing a stupid paper.

There are several thug wannabe types, maybe two or three other white guys that aren't like that. One obvious skinhead as well. It's split in half racially. Five white Boys & 5 black. There was a round of introductions. Most were there for, as mentioned, substance abuse and violent behavior. The skinhead boasted of being in because he stuck foreign objects in his body. He stabbed himself with pens and various utensils. Another boy was in for desecrating graves. The girls were almost exclusively substance abuse. There was one Arab girl that was in there, and though she talked much I never quite understood why except that I knew she definitely needed to be in there. She either talked incessantly of sex or repeatedly told this story about a "bad doll" that lived in her house- all in broken english.

So this was the introduction to the place. Honestly yes, I would have problems with the other patients. That's really out of the scope of the story though. They are mental patients. What do you expect?

The true problem with Lincoln trail was its staff and overall structure. Such a problem was this structure that it would break me down to that kernel of a child you see on all the other stories on this blog. Such that Lincoln trail would reduce me again to that boy child whispering a question to the darkness: "Why am I being punished?" It would make me know, through recognition and reinforcement of abusive themes I was already familiar with, that I was not in a safe place.

The first night I felt this first blow through humiliation and guilt. It was a simple thing really. We were sent to bed. A corridor with a small basket on the outside of each door. A female counselor was pointing each of us down the hall to our rooms. When my time came, she pointed vaguely down the hall to the right side. I tried to ask for clarification and she shouted "Right there!" And my immediate reaction to being chastised like this was to go to one of the rooms with my belongings. She did not stop me.

I noticed one of the wooden bed frames(they were double rooms with single bathrooms) had no mattress. My roommate was a boy my age. He had close-buzzed haircut. He seemed politely surprised. I shrugged and got in the shower. When I turned the water off, I heard yelling on the other side of the door.

The boy was yelling angrily that he did not know who I was and that he had nothing to do with me. He was explaining that I came into his room unbidden and to no fault of his own. I dressed quickly and came out of the bathroom as soon as possible. A middle-aged blond woman grabs me by the arm and began leading me out of the room. When I asked her where we were going she did not say anything but tightened her grip and sat me down in a chair. This woman becomes important later. Five minutes later Dr kodali came into the office with my other counselor, both looking at me sternly.

I apologize for not knowing the exact words of the conversation. Basically the boy was supposed to have his room to his self. He was gay and had been known to have had sexual contact with other patients. They grilled me hard about whether or not I was gay and deciding whether I should be disciplined. Dr kodali somehow remembers that that my girlfriend had given testimony(positively) over my mental health and he seemed to leave it at that. The blonde lady didnt seem convinced.

When she led me back to my(actual) room, she took the liberty of going through my clothes and belongings. She confiscated basically all of my clothing, saying that it would distract patients(black jeans and tees...none of my flashier stuff). She confiscated my copy of Cannery Row, all my homework, and my shampoo. She really let off on me while doing this. Talking about how sneaky I was and if I was planning anything with Chester(the gay guy) that she would know.

This was Day 1. I would kneel beside the bed that night and pray(I just prayed to 'the goddess' back then), just to feel peace inside. I was so put-upon about the stupid clothes. They were my armor, in a way.

The next day would be a lot worse. I'd learn a lot.

[donnachess2-blog]

8 Early Signs Of Erectile Dysfunction

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Treatment is usually prescribed by the physician to assist the affected person get the suitable medicine

Non-invasive: no hospital keep, surgery, or anesthesia

Chlorpromazine (Thorazine)

Stopping smoking

Note annotations, or

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— GAINSWave (@GainsWave) December 30, 2019

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The primary injection is carried out by Dr. Eid, and is used both for analysis and to resolve how a lot medicine can be required in the future for that particular patient to have sexual exercise. In other phrases, the remedy dose for every particular person is tailor-made to the erectile response to the primary injection. After that, the patient learns to inject under Dr. Eid's watchful eye and teaching. With somewhat apply and familiarity, the patient positive aspects confidence with the injection approach such that he is able to perform it at home. Most patients find that they get used to the needle sensation over time. The number of injections is to not exceed 12 every month, and ought to be spaced as evenly as doable. The positioning of injection should alternate between left and proper side of the penis. The most typical aspect effect reported (37%) is a mild to reasonable dull ache, which happens 5 to 20 minutes after injection. GAINSWave ED Treatment is elevated by standing, and subsides when the erection is gone.

He just did not seem conscious of what he'd completed and what he was apologising for. He informed the tribunal that the GMC had made a 'leap' by assuming the sachets have been for an athlete however that if the gel was for Sutton, as Freeman claimed, the coach would have instructed him. My relationship with Shane was very up and down, as I believe with everybody, however Shane is a really open guide. Shane got here to me many instances. I simply did not understand why he would not tell me. The Testogel was a part of a package which, it was alleged, additionally included the erectile dysfunction drug Viagra, addressed to Freeman and delivered to the National Cycling Centre. Peters agreed and also advised that an athlete utilizing it will shortly fail a doping test. It can be picked up in a short time,' he stated. On Tuesday, former head coach Sutton stormed out of the hearing after telling Freeman to come out from behind a display and look him in the attention. Freeman was absent from the listening to on Thursday and O'Rourke stated: 'Unfortunately, Dr Freeman had an adversarial reaction to what happened on Tuesday. He was as a result of see a psychiatrist on Friday. Group physio Burt, who took supply of the package deal and raised the alarm, is due to offer proof on Friday. MARTIN SAMUEL: Don't fall for the sideshow.

Testosterone is essential for a healthy libido and normal sexual perform, and erectile dysfunction sufferers identified to have low testosterone enhance when placed on prescription testosterone substitute therapy. Similarly, studies have shown that taking over-the-counter supplements containing DHEA, a hormone that the body converts to testosterone and estrogen, will help alleviate some instances of ED. But DHEA may cause uncomfortable side effects, including suppression of pituitary function, acne, hair loss and its long-term safety is unknown, says McCullough. Because of this, many consultants discourage use of the supplements. Ginseng. Korean crimson ginseng has lengthy been used to stimulate male sexual function, however few studies have tried systematically to affirm its benefits. In one 2002 study involving 45 men with significant ED, the herb helped alleviate symptoms of erectile dysfunction and brought "enhanced penile tip rigidity." Experts aren't certain how purple ginseng would possibly work, though it is thought to promote nitric oxide synthesis. Espinosa. Discuss along with your doctor before taking it since ginseng can interact with medicine you may already be taking and trigger allergic reactions. Pomegranate juice. Drinking antioxidant-rich pomegranate juice has been shown to have quite a few health benefits, including a lowered danger for heart disease and excessive blood pressure. Does pomegranate juice also protect towards ED? No proof exists, but outcomes of a examine revealed in 2007 had been promising. The authors of this small-scale pilot study known as for additional research, saying that bigger-scale studies would possibly show pomegranate juice's effectiveness in opposition to erectile dysfunction. Yohimbe. Before Viagra and the other prescription erectile dysfunction drugs became out there, medical doctors typically prescribed a derivative of the herb yohimbe (yohimbine hydrochloride) to their patients affected by ED. But experts say the remedy shouldn't be particularly efficient, and it can cause jitteriness and other issues. McCullough. "And I believe the herb will not be as potent because the pharmaceutical model." What's extra, evidence reveals that yohimbe is associated with excessive blood stress, anxiety, headache, and different health issues. Experts discourage its use. Join MedicineNet Newsletters!