#psychiatrists in los angeles

[grandpsychiatry]

Best Psychiatrists in Los Angeles - Book an Appointment

Risa Grand is a certified psychiatrist, she specializes in the treatment of mood disorders, anxiety and mental health. She can help you to find a pathway after all challenges, all we want you to get back to a healthy life. Our services are best to serve you and also we offer flexible appointment times. Connect with the best psychiatrists in Los Angeles, we understand everyone's need is unique and we work accordingly.

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A Unique Encounter: Psychiatry and Homelessness in Downtown Los Angeles

A Unique Encounter in Downtown Los Angeles In a modest parking lot nestled in downtown Los Angeles, surrounded by sleek hotels and the bustling 110 freeway, a psychiatrist named Shayan Rab was engaged in an important session with his third patient of the day, a man he knew only as Yoh. Yoh’s life was one of hardship; he resided in the underpass, with his back pressed against a cold concrete wall,…

[mrs-weasley-reid]

THERAPY SESSIONS•••

bau!team x psychiatrist!reader ↳ part 2 here

Synopsis: you have been a longtime psychiatrist for the BAU team. Always there to listen to their troubles. But what if you mysteriously disappear? WARNING: use of y/n and l/n. curse(s?). mentions of trauma (kind of) A/N: nothing sweets, enjoy!

Monday, 11:04 AM

"Have you heard from Dr. L/N? I wanted to schedule my next appointment but can't reach her cell." Spencer, being your frequent visitor, asked his teammates as he stared at his flip phone in deep thought. Maybe the problem was his phone?

Emily turned her seat, legs crossed and arms flat on the armrests of her chair. "I actually wanted to schedule one yesterday. I couldn't reach her cell either." She shrugged, leaning backward.

Derek rolled his eyes, "Maybe she's on a date? Let the woman have a life." He was your newest patient, though you have been listening to his troubles for 2 years.

You have been the BAU team's psychiatrist for the past six years, or more, you couldn't remember. All you could remember was how they slowly piled, one by one, into your office and shared their deepest sorrows in the safety of your listening ear.

It started when Spencer needed someone to rant to. He arrived at your clinic, soaking wet from the rain and clutching your business card in his hand. You were about to leave for the day, but you didn't mind the extra hours you had to spend.

Then came JJ, who brought up her concerns for Spencer but was completely anxious over different things. She was the sweetest woman alive that you have ever met. And it sometimes pained you to know that she had to endure adversities.

The others crammed right in like children asking for a little bit of company in the dark, and you were more than happy to provide them with a cozy sofa and a listening ear.

Spencer and Emily let go of the topic. Derek was right. They had to let you have a life outside of work, outside of listening to their cries. They bothered you with the shallowest inconvenience 24/7, and it didn't sit right to deprive you of having time off.

With that said, nonetheless, you have been part of their family. Even if you weren't a profiler, they welcomed you to one of Rossi's dinner parties just the same.

Emily loved to joke that you were their sweet, softhearted mommy, while Aaron Hotchner was their strict dad. You always laughed at that.

Tuesday, 4:32 PM

Penelope was maniacally tapping on her keys as she searched for information that the group asked her to look for. They flew out this morning, almost teleporting to Los Angeles for a fast-escalating serial killer.

A ringing echoed in her background, waiting for the recipient to pick up the call. The number was yours.

"[You've reached Dr. L/N's line. Please don't leave a message at all. Text me directly instead at 571...]"

She sat up, rolling her chair across her room to reach her telephone, and dropped the call. "No! Y/N! I need you to answer me so you can listen to my dilemma!" Penelope whined and speed-dialed your number once again.

You may be the BAU's psychiatrist for six years, but you have been Penelope's psychiatrist for eight years. You were there when she broke down about the horrors of their recent cases when she got shot and many more events in her life that she couldn't help but rant about to you. You were her friend, and you felt honored to become one.

Wednesday, 10:57 PM

"Something's wrong," Spencer announced, sitting on the swivel chair with his legs crisscrossed.

Hotch immediately lifted his gaze from the file he had in his hands, glancing at Spencer. "What did you find?"

What the Unit Chief didn't know was that his youngest profiler had been staring into space for a good 30 minutes. Spencer fidgeted on the hem of his slacks. "Dr. L/N has never been MIA for more than a day." He replied, unaware of his conversation with his leader.

"Reid. I need your focus on this mission and not Dr. L/N's?" Hotch diverted, bringing his attention back to the file in his hands.

Thursday, 7:00 AM

Spencer's statement didn't leave the back of Hotch's mind, sending you a text as soon as his alarm went off. He couldn't get a blink of sleep.

As much as he tried to think about the case, worry for a compassionate friend began to creep into his veins.

Hey, if you don't mind. Would you happen to have time for me to visit on Saturday afternoon?

He tapped the sides of his phone, staring at the screen. With a small sigh, Hotch exited the bed and got ready for work.

Within the ten minutes he spent showering, Hotch glanced at the screen with furrowed brows in the absence of your reply.

It wasn't like you were obligated to respond to him at that time of the day, but he had known you enough years to know that you were wide awake at the strike of 7 AM.

Hotch remembered clearly how the two of you coincidentally met at the park where he usually goes for a run. He learned then that you never fail to wake up at 5 AM in the morning, emptying your mind to make space for people's troubles that you gladly eased.

He dialed a phone number, "Hello, Garcia?"

Friday, 1:29 PM

The team arrived back to Quantico, wiped out and drained from the case, unenthusiastic about the fact that they had to stay for a few hours and complete some paperwork before they could finally go home.

"Did L/N change her number?" JJ walked in the bullpen, waving her phone to the others. She placed a hand on her hip as she navigated through her phone, preparing to edit your contact information.

Not to create competition, but JJ had it worst in their past case. The anxiety that coursed through her bloodstream needed the comfort of your soft voice. She would discuss it with her husband, Will, but you always understood better. She loved the way you explained her emotions to her, giving her a clearer vision of what she was feeling. It made it easier for her to express her feelings when she came home to Will.

Spencer perked up, "I don't think so. She's very consistent with everything. She would've told us if she changed her number." He sat on his seat with his legs crisscrossed.

Derek didn't waste a minute and dialed your clinic's main landline. They should've been calling there to set an appointment anyway, but they were too attached to you to even bother. In their eyes, you were the whole clinic; no other psychiatrist was available.

"[Hi, you are calling from...]" Multiple sighs of relief escaped from the four of them when they finally got someone to pick up the call. "[This is Alexa. What can I help you with today?]"

"I wanted to set an appointment with Dr. L/N, does she have any open spots for this weekend?" Derek asked, making eye contact with the three agents with him, assuring them that everything was alright.

Until it wasn't.

"[I'm sorry, Sir. Dr. L/N is not available right now, but—]"

"Is she on vacation?" Emily interjected, moving to the edge of her seat.

"[Uh, who am I speaking to?]"

They all exchanged looks. JJ leaned against Derek's desk, clearing her throat. "This is Jennifer Jareau from the FBI. I'm a friend of Dr. Y/N L/N and haven't been able to contact her in a while. I just wanted to ask if, by chance, you have other means of contacting her?"

A long pause. Worry began to creep over their minds. They could hear murmurs and movements, and after three minutes of waiting, someone picked the phone back up.

"[Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Basset, and I'm the head psychiatrist in the clinic. Unfortunately, we haven't heard of Dr. L/N since last Saturday. She hasn't been showing up for her shift either. We were getting worried because she wasn't answering her personal cell and home landline. One of our staff knew where she lived, but her apartment was quiet. They said no one answered the door.]"

Well shit.

That wasn't normal for you to just disappear. You always notified the whole team three months before you would go on vacation or requested leave. So, you being unavailable with your means of communication spiked up their worry through the roof.

They nodded to each other, making a wordless agreement that whatever was happening, it was clear that it was not something they should take lightly.

"Okay, Dr. Basset. Is there a chance you can provide us with any other information about Y/N? Her emergency contact, parents' names, anything would help us." JJ swallowed the lump in her throat. Where could you be?

"[Of course! Let me just go get it.]" Dr. Basset said, shuffling on his end.

Rossi walked out of his room with the intention of filling up his cup with another dose of coffee, but the expressions that the four agents had on their faces didn't pass his peripheral. "What happened? Did you all lose a bet with Garcia?"

Spencer turned his seat, "Dr. L/N is missing." He announced.

"Missing? Did someone report her missing?" Rossi knitted his brows. He wasn't frequent in your office, but he did have a monthly visit.

"She hasn't been to work for a week or answering any of our calls," Emily stated, biting the nail on her thumb.

"Call Hotch," Rossi told Emily, who didn't waste time nodding and went straight to Hotch's office. He looked at the others. "I know everyone is tired from the case, but this one is very important."

Derek stood up, leather jacket wrapping his lean build. "You don't have to tell us twice." He glanced at Spencer, who was already standing, clutching his messenger bag. Then, to JJ, who nodded her chin of approval.

Emily was about to knock on Hotch's door when it swung open, a file in his hand. "We have a case." He announced.

"But-" Emily attempted to intervene, but he continued speaking.

"We need to find our psychiatrist, Dr. Y/N L/N. Penelope's on her way to debrief us. Gather in the conference room in five minutes."

[spacelazarwolf]

"Note: If you're sensitive, or prone to nightmares, it might be best for you to skip the next section.

Ernest Armstead, emergency medical specialist:

I think of her as the living dead. I talked to the living dead. And I lied to the living dead. I told her to hang on, that help was coming. But I pronounced her dead in my mind. And she knew that. I put a black tag with a small white cross around her neck. And as best she could, she gave me hell for it. The psychiatrists and those from the post-trauma team say it is good for me to talk about her and the rest of that day. They say it is the only way I will come to terms with what happened and finally free my mind of her. So here I am talking to you.

This lady was among a half-dozen people I saw who probably fell a thousand feet or so when American Airlines Flight 11 crashed into the World Trade Center. I am not sure how she got on the plaza. Maybe she was on her way to Los Angeles and was ejected from the jet by the force of the collision. Or maybe she was an office worker in the tower sitting near one of the windows and she was swept away when the building caved around her. Or maybe she was trapped and jumped to escape the flames, though I don't think so. I happened upon her even before most of those people were seen jumping.

She was an elegant lady. About my age, early fifties. I could see that even with all that she had been through. I could tell that she had her hair done up very nicely. Brunette. She had on tasteful earrings. She was wearing pretty makeup. And in my profession you notice clothes because so often you have to cut them into pieces to save lives. That was the first thing that came to mind: This lady is well dressed....

Triage is the first thing that should be done at a disaster like this. It basically means dividing the injured into four categories so that backup medical teams can move quickly in and give treatment to those who need it most urgently. The categories are indicated by colored tags that are hung around the injured person's neck. Green is the least serious. Yellow more so. Red indicates critical injuries. And black means the person is dead or close to it. When you're engaged in triage, you have one thing in the back of your mind all of the time, My backup is coming. My backup is coming. That's the reason you can tag people who obviously need help and not stop and give it to them right then. You know you need to get everyone tagged, and you know that someone with a medical bag is coming right behind you.

That certainly is what I was thinking when I met the lady in the plaza, the big open space between the two towers that had a fountain ad a round sculpture in the middle. I had finished tagging everyone from the stairwells, when I turned to face the plaza. I had not noticed the people there on my way upstairs because I was in such a hurry and there was such a crowd of firefighters blocking my view out the window. But now I saw something that was so horrific that I am glad I missed it the first time around. When the plane hit, an incredible amount of debris from the collision rained down on the plaza. Most of it was chunks of airplane and building that had little meaning to me. But amid the destruction, there were a half dozen or so people, I ran toward them, my triage tags in hand. There was a man having a seizure and his eyes were rolling into the back of his head. He had struck the pavement so hard that there was virtually nothing else left of him. There were a couple others that I never got to, but I could see from a short distance that they were dead. And then there was the lady with the nice hairdo and earrings.

When I got to her, I ripped out a black tag. What impressed me -- and scared me -- was that she was alert and was watching what I was doing. I put the tag around her neck and she looked at me and said, "I am not dead. Call my daughter. I am not dead." I was so startled that for a split second I was speechless. "Ma'am," I said, "don't worry about it. We will be right back to you." That was a lie. She couldn't see what I could see. Somehow, I guess it was an air draft or something, her fall had been cushioned enough so that she didn't splatter like the others. Still her body was so twisted and torn apart that I could only ask myself, Why is this lady still alive and talking to me? How can this be? Her right lung, shoulder and head were intact, but from the diaphragm down she was unrecognizable. Yet she was lucid enough that she continued to argue with me. "I am not dead," she insisted again. I am convinced she had some medical training because she knew I had given her the black mark of death. And she resented it. "Don't worry about what I put around your neck," I told her. "My coworkers are coming right now. They're going to take care of you."

I knew I had to keep going, but she had so deeply shaken me that I lingered for a second or two. Then I stepped over her to get to the others. I put a black tag on the man having the seizure. But another wave of casualties arrived in the lobby from upstairs, so I needed to return. As I headed back, I stepped over the lady one more time. And as eerie and unsettling as our first encounter had been, the second was even worse. She started yelling at me.

"I am not dead! I am not dead!"

"They're coming, they're coming," I replied without stopping.

"I am not dead! I am not dead!"

I went back to the lobby, putting her out of my mind for now. There was so much that needed to be done. I began tagging the hundreds of people coming out of the building....

I can honestly say that I didn't fear death, though I walked for hours in a wretched place I can only describe with a biblical reference -- "the valley of the shadow of death." I felt death, I heard it, I saw it and I smelled it. And with that lady in the plaza, I even talked to it."

(x)

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

summary: y/n didn't fell well in the last year... and she probably never will feel herself well again. word count: 2.832k trigger warning: SUICIDE, SELF-HARM (really, don't read it if it trigger you please please please), psych ward, signs of mental illnesses, heartbreak, hallucinating, screaming, farewell letter

count your fingers. breathe in, breathe out.

"are you doing this again?"

y/n sat on her bed, smoking a cigarette as she read the newest tabloids. others were watching tv in the lodge, but she preferred to out out some titles and interesting articles. the date stated 1995, may 3rd.

"you are no longer in the newspaper. they're dumb, never writing anything in these papers, fuckers."

scratching her neck, her nail broke at the end. it was weak ever since she got here, sleeping and eating was difficult also.

"but they were true about me."

she looked at him, pulling her knees to herself.

"fuck you, they weren't."

kurt sat at the leg of the bed, now the closest ever. he always stood at the door, sat by the window, or sat on the ground, facing her.

just keep counting. six, seven, eight...

"you look like you need a rest, love. dark circles doesn't fit you."

something constantly buzzed in her mind, like a radio band is always on, even if there's no music and no jokes. or the tv in the lodge at 2am, no shows were playing, she always talked with kurt at night, until the nurses didn't guide her back to her room. she was alone here, at peace, doing what she liked to do --writing her diary, reading books, painting her nails. he wanted to paint kurt's too, but he never came close to her, never let her touch him. he was distant, but in a comforting way.

"who do i need to look beauty for?" y/n asked, exhaling the smoke. kurt smiled, pointing at himself.

"for me."

"yeah, of course."

take your medicine. place a pill on your tongue, then swallow it down with a gulp of water.

the next dose of pills were laying on the plate, waiting for her to take them with a cup of water. they trusted her enough to take it alone, since she almost scratched her wrists from freaking out too many times. the clock on her nightstand ringed, it was time.

"you know i'll never disappear, even if you take those?" kurt laid back on her bed, reaching his hand to the ceiling.

brushing her hair, y/n turned away her head from him. she didn't want to hear this, and to turn to her sane sense.

"if you live only in my head, why can't i just make you go away?" she whispered, her eyes lingering on the lace of the curtain, forming an angel and a bunny.

"because you don't want to let me go."

looking at him again, the buzzing was so intense and it wasn't pleasuring. the voice wanted to tell her something, but it never could. it was a void. she was a void.

am i telling this to myself too? y/n felt tired, picking a pill, popping into her mouth. she ate more pills than actual meals, in the first two months, it was strange to even eat after only living on little pieces of medicine for so long. she looked at kurt, he was still here. ten more minutes and he'll be gone, but the pills only made her tired, they never sent him truly away. or, maybe it was easy to crawl into her mind. laying down, she used her boney arm as an extra pillow, dragging the comforter up on her body.

"when i wake up, piss off."

"can't promise, princess." kurt said, leaning on his elbow as he saw her closing her eyes.

days went like this --waking up before 10am, taking pills, skipping breakfast because the pills always caused her nausea, playing and talking with the others in the psych ward, talking with her own psychiatrist, eating lunch, taking pills, resting in the afternoon, reading the tabloids every wednesday, watching the telly or reading a book before dinner, and then, taking the day's last pills, and then sleeping all night, but she often woke up, sometimes two or three times even.

a knock woke her up from her deep slumber, making her shake. looking around, kurt was not around anymore --at least he kept his poor promise. a nurse, dorothy was standing in the door.

"good afternoon, y/n. you have a visitor."

it was strange. she broke her connections with most people, only dave and christ knew that y/n was still in here.

"who?" she asked, getting up to put on her shoes.

"his name is dave grohl. do you know him?" dorothy asked, making her nod. standing up, y/n went out on the door, seeing dave. walking up to him, dave smiled at her, but it was something uncertain in his eyes. y/n gave up for caring about other's feelings a couple months ago, since she couldn't even deal with hers.

"hello, angel! how are you?" he asked in the sound like you ask from a child, hugging her lightly.

"totally fine." really, she was in a psych ward almost a year from now on, what could she say?

"can we go for a walk? that girl... maybe dorothy? said that we can go for a little walk, i want to know what's going on with you."

stepping outside, y/n breathed fresh air only when she opened her window, and went for a short trip with the others once in three months. the air was calming, and the sun didn't shine too bright, flowers grow on the edge of the sidewalk. dave was so strange, like he also lived in her mind. but he doesn't have to know about that.

"so, what's up? hanging around, uhm..." he wanted to continue, but y/n looked at him.

"chill, dave. i know this place is a horror house. i'm pretty fine, dealing with my things and stuff... and you?"

"i'm fine also. me and jennifer talked about having kids, but i'm not feeling the time yet."

"i felt that." she and kurt had frances, y/n loved her as her own daughter, even if that crazy woman courtney fretted her for being in the baby's presence.

"i have some pictures about bean, do you wanna see them? courtney was against it, but... i thought you'd like."

"that's really nice from you, dave."

seeing the pictures, she felt like the whole universe laughed at her. the buzzing started again, she tried to smile. "how big she is!"

"yeah, well, she is just like her fath-"

dave suddenly silenced. because everybody knew. everybody knew that y/n got in here because kurt died, her mind couldn't comprehend the fact, and she began to see him. she began to hallucinate, and most of the time, she just laid on her bed and looked at the ceiling, not eating, not drinking. if she wasn't crying or screaming, she was sleeping or just being like a sack of potato. the most miserable sack of potato. almost a year, and she didn't even made the smallest progress. she clearly, medically went crazy because of her lover's death.

"look, y/n... me, jen, chris and his wife is going on a trip... you should come too. it's much warmer there in california, you could loose up a little bit, don't you?"

y/n scratched her arms, looking at the stop sign at the end of the road.

"it's a really nice idea, dave. thank you. it's just... what if kurt-"

"what? what about kurt?" dave asked, getting angry. "sorry, but what fucking about him?"

"nothing, just... nothing, really, i just don't want to go."

"because of him? y/n, i don't want to be mean, but did you look at yourself? his death caused all of us pain, but you literally got sick from it."

"what about me? what about me, what about me?" she yelled. "don't say that he's dead, because i fucking see him everyday, and i'm not gonna let it slip!"

"do you see him right now, huh? do you see him? because if yes, then you are just the same as those girls who get shocked to be normal just a little bit!"

"and what if i saw him? what if i saw him and he just could see that how big of a cock your are, fuck you, dave!"

he laughed like he doesn't believed what he just heard.

"here we fucking are again, y/n! because i'm a good friend of yours, i'm gonna tell you that nobody fucking sees him, nobody who's normal! i thought that it's just some aftermath of your depression, but..."

"but what? i am crazy? i am compulsive? i am fucking hopeless? because you know, every fucking day was a menace since things got fucked up!"

"no, you are fucking worse than you were when he died!" dave screamed, trying to reach for her arm to get her back to the psych ward, but y/n clawed at him like a cat, while from the tip of her throat, an enormous shriek came from her, and then y/n just snapped.

"HE MAY BE DEAD! AND EVEN IF HE IS, I WISH I COULD DIE EVERY DAY JUST TO FREE MYSELF FROM ALL OF THIS VOID!" her vocal cords almost teared up as she screamed, crouching on the ground, holding her head. this was the end, the waves crashed above her head, the endless sea of her depression caged her in.

like a switch finally turned down, y/n tried to collect her breath, but it didn't helped. she went too deep, and the last breath of hope was sucked out from her.

"are you okay? y/n, fuck, are you alright?" dave asked her. y/n stood up, brushing her hair from her face.

"yes, i think everything's okay." she felt her own voice static, but it didn't matter.

"okay, then... shall we go back? you must be tired."

"yeah. let's go back."

dave didn't even know that he saw her the last time alive.

"i hope you get a little rest. i think it wasn't a good idea to come, but... i care about you. we all do." he said inside, y/n pulled up the muscles of her lips.

"it's okay. it was good to see you, dave." giving him a hug, it lasted a little bit too long, but he wanted too, so it wasn't a problem. she just wanted to feel loved after so long.

"see you later, y/n."

"yeah, see you too, dave!" she waved to him from the window, dave got out his camera from his car.

"do this again! wave and say, 'hi everybody!'"

"hi, goodbye, good morning, good afternoon everybody!" she sang while faning with her hand, smiling. dave waved to her the last time, then he got in his car, riding away.

do kurt miss christ and dave just as she?

1am. 1995, may 4th.

not a soul walked on the hallways of the ward. it was peaceful, only the small droplets from the fountain harmed the silence. only one bathtub, filled with water, a hand hanging on the side of the white porcelain. little curls of steam floating in the air.

"are you sure about that?"

he was here again, with her. kurt leaned on the brim of the tub, looking at y/n as she collected the pills. she's gonna swallow all of it, with two gulps of water, and then... she didn't know what's going after this, but she couldn't handle it any longer. life was too heavy, she felt it on her shoulders, her spine, her head, it crawled it's weight into her guts from day to day, a new day, a new weight.

looking at him, she stopped in her movements.

"did it hurt?"

kurt only smiled at that, saccharine in his smile.

"did life hurt?"

"only when you weren't there." she replied, then, placing the first dose of pills into her hand. "i wrote a letter. i hope they find it. and i hope i'll find you."

because she hoped, really. she had hope, not for life, but for him. she felt dumb every time she saw lame romance movies about people can't live without each other, but it turned out that it was true. she literally died without him, and air got much more suffocating.

looking at the pills, she looked up to the cross on the wall in front of her. so this is the end.

"i'll look for you, kurt. i love you." she said, not even paying attention to the fact if he was there or not, even if he just lived in her head. downing the pills, chug, another doze of pills, chug. just a couple of minutes, and no days will be spent with agony and crying, screaming, watching shitty movies, trying to live.

somehow, it was comforting to her.

laying back in the warm water, she saw kurt coming closer to her. her vision began to get blurry, and she felt stomach churn, her heart and liver exploding, but it was only a little pain. her lover bend over her, and maybe he touched her, kissing her forehead, but she didn't felt it. there was no movie in front of her eyes, playing her whole life, there weren't any so special things from books the writers always talked about. it was just laying down and resting for awhile.

in her last moments, she felt nothing else but warmth.

dear everybody, or anybody who finds this,

i never wasted too much words about anything. maybe i should have done, but i'm not gonna change this, so please, don't judge me. it's rude to judge dead people anyway.

everyone who thinks that my actions is in connection with kurt, they're right. i don't want to brag about my mental state, let's just say, i didn't feel well in the last couple of months. people around you change you, taking you to a ride, and i guess that i wasn't ready for the end of the ride. in the end, i only want you to remember that how wonderful and gentle, unique and perfect creatures we are. i loved myself, always, i just didn't love the way i felt.

some words to the people, because i was too much of a scaredy-cat to talk with them in the last rounds: dave and chris. you two are truly wonderful, the best guys i could ever imagine. i'm sorry that you have to get to know about this in a letter, but please, never let kurt's memory die, and maybe, don't even let mine. i didn't do a lot of good things in my life, but i loved. i loved and cared, and maybe that can be valuable even for you. courtney, i know we've never been good friends, but maybe, we never could be. i just want to wish you strength and courage for the rest of your life, i've never invalidated your feelings. maybe i felt just like you, excluding the fact that i don't have a lovely supergirl. frances bean, you little star; you won't remember me, but i'll remember you. you are the most fantastic girl i've ever known, and you'll gonna rock the world, just like your father did.

i don't want you to be sad. i wasn't sad, just a little crazy. living our lives without our loved ones claims us to be strong and brave, but i'm not enough brave for it. you're gonna do it instead of me, and my gratitude will chase you forever.

never forget to love and care! i did the same.

y/n y/l/n

she opened her eyes, sun shining through her eyelids. where the hell she was? feeling something soft under her touch; she laid on sand. little rocks pressed into her palms as she sat up. she didn't know where she was, and she wasn't even certain if she did what she did. coming to her senses, the waves crashed in the ocean only a few foot apart from her. washing the shore, it almost get wet her too. it was peaceful and unusual.

but she was not the only one sitting on the beach.

a figure, 60 feet from her sat just like her in silence, looking at the ocean and the dawning sun. could it be...

standing up, she was unsure in her steps, but somehow, she managed to go closer. it was him. instead of screaming and jumping, she simply crouched beside kurt, looking at him, so she was sure that it's really him. the wind blew his hair, his lips surely were salty from the air. brushing through his hair at the back of his neck, the blonde curls felt like silk. he was an angel.

without saying a word, y/n leaned her head on his shoulder. she could touch him now, watching as the sun bleed through the sky. she felt something warm in her chest–

–sure it wasn't reality. but it didn't even needed to be.

a/n: this is my first oneshot in this genre, and to be honest... i don't want to write more. i just had a very depressed couple of weeks, and this just came into my mind. i won't write fics like this, it turned out that i like domestic comfort and fluff more. if you liked it, or want to request, write in the comments, dm me or write here

stay safe, love yourself girliez,

louisa

[theflyindutchwoman]

SEASON 06 | What we know so far - Chenford Edition

This is merely an attempt to gather all the different spoilers from the past few weeks in one place. Please let me know if I missed anything or got something wrong.

// The Under Siege Storyline . 6.01 - Strike Back : in the aftermath of the assaults in the finale, the team must now try to understand why they were targeted and if there is a bigger plan in place.

// The Time-for-Lucy-to-get-promoted Storyline . 6.01 - Strike Back : Lucy is a bit on edge about taking the detective exam, so she asks to ride with Tim so that her onetime TO can give her a shift-long grilling like in the old days. One encounter with a literal clown might get her rethinking her logic. [x]

. I'm actually wondering if the encounter with a clown could be triggering for either one of them, in light of the recent attacks and the creepy doll masks. . There's a time jump of 6 weeks at some point in the episode : considering that in 5.19, the detective exam was two weeks away, I'm going to assume that this time jump happens towards the middle or the end of the episode (like in 4.01)… Unless of course, this detail has been forgotten / the exam was postponed due to the attacks (unlikely but why not).

// The Wedding Storyline . DANCE + KISS!!

. Shenanigans will happen at some point (might start in 6.01) - from the BTS videos, it appears that Tim will be wounded (doesn't seem to be too bad though)

// Lucy's Storyline . Lucy will be wounded / involved in a shooting that ends up with her staying at the hospital . Tim, Wesley and Sergeant Grey are with her at some point (officer-involved shooting?)

. She will also work alongside Angela to help Tim (not sure if it's related to the previous point or not). On the picture, she is wearing her badge but is out of uniform : she could be there as a detective or as Tim's handler if he's undercover (like in 4.07 and 4.22)… Or maybe something else entirely.

. If Tim is indeed undercover, one that lasts more than one day at that (which seems likely since he appears to be wearing different clothes), it could be interesting to see how Lucy deals with this role reversal.

// Tim's storyline . Per Eric's instagram post, Tim will spend some time out of uniform and without his badge. In light of the photos of him with Angela and Lucy at the Port of Los Angeles, he may be doing some undercover work, one that could be related to a human trafficking case (as suggested by the mattress in the container and the location).

// The LAPD Psychiatrist Storyline . It is unclear if this one relates to Tim and/or Lucy but it could be a very interesting arc for both or either of them.

[yubnubforhire]

As shitty as the breakup was (and it definitely was) I think it’s also true that fanon bucktommy was always better than canon, and a lot of us feel betrayed by canon not matching our fanon. Canon bt, much like the rest of canon 911, was poorly written disorganized story beats. The scene at the end of 7x04 was fantastic which is what most people remember, but like… the scene in the firehouse earlier with the basketball that was literally just an Amazon prime ad?? The fuck was that. Tommy just leaving buck at harbor station when he takes off with Eddie? The way that Tommy just called an Uber for himself after their first date without saying a word about it until Buck asked if it was their ride ??? Who does that?? The relationship was wildly underdeveloped onscreen (they’re suddenly boyfriends? Officially? I guess??) and a lot of us just filled in the blanks as we are expected to do, but that doesn’t change that actual canon was. Not good. The end of their relationship was never going to be well written or even well handled.

This is not at all me excusing the mess that was this last episode but let’s not all pretend like this show was ever well written lmao. It’s trash. It’s literally trash tv. It’s MY trash, and your trash, but it’s at best a prime time soap opera where four (4) firefighters save Los Angeles and/or possibly all of North America from disaster once a season. The writers will make the characters do anything if they think it’s interesting. There are no through lines. There are no meaningful and complex multi-season character arcs. These characters cheat on their partners, hurt their friends, make mistakes constantly (except chimney who has done nothing wrong in his life ever) and go through more trauma in a single season of television than a team of psychiatrists is equipped to handle in a lifetime.

Just keep writing those bucktommy fics, because they’re always going to be better than canon. You’re always going to love the characters more. You’re always going to be more invested in the relationship.

[anti-porn-unicorn]

In The Brain That Changes Itself, psychiatrist Norman Doidge summarizes research on the neurobiological aspects of sexual development. He writes: “The human libido is not a hardwired, invariable biological urge but can be curiously fickle, easily altered by our psychology and the history of our sexual encounters,” and he goes on to conclude: “Sexual taste is obviously influenced by culture and experience and is often acquired and then wired into the brain.”

Neurons that fire together wire together. Once this happens, aggression automatically triggers sexual arousal. Or fear and anxiety automatically trigger sexual interest. When this fusion of neural networks becomes pronounced, people often will present to the psychiatrist with clinical problems. Patients complain, for example, that they cannot get aroused unless they get aggressive or violent. Or they complain that they become involuntarily aroused whenever they experience fear. Once these distinct neural networks are fused, the person is—at the level of the brain—literally tied down.

With sexual behaviors, the problem of tolerance means that one needs to push the envelope more and more just to get aroused or climax. The aggressive, domineering, or painful behaviors need to become increasingly intense and increasingly dangerous in order to “work.” Frequently, a person who engages in BDSM becomes habituated to these intense experiences and needs to up the ante to stay in the game.

Some individuals are clearly drawn to these practices because they tap into deep emotional scripts, often based on childhood trauma or insecure early attachments. One psychiatrist studying BDSM practitioners in Los Angeles found that a disproportionate number had a history of severe childhood medical illness, and often underwent painful treatments.

[cyclogenesis]

life update, sry for absence, you will literally not believe the breadth and depth of fuckery I have been facing down these last few weeks including the last insane 24 hours

Cannot overstate how obscenely ridiculous things have gotten for me. I thought I felt Seasonal Affective Disorder looming at the turn of September to October but I think now it was just a sense of general foreboding. 

So I’m trying to truck along these last few weeks, sad as hell about my beloved cat, and then for the third time this year I have to find a new psychiatrist. I take Adderall for my ADHD, I have for six+ years, I see telehealth providers for monthly five minute appointments to be like yes I still need Adderall please send the prescription thanks. Walgreens causes a problem too fucking stupid to get into with psych #1 this year, I go out of my way to explicitly confirm this same problem won’t crop up with psych #2. No it’ll be fine he says. He was wrong, because he apparently didn’t know what he was talking about, and instead of looking into it for clarification he just said meaningless words to shut me up. 

The problem crops up again. We try three different pharmacies to try and get around it. Doesn’t work. I have to find a new psychiatrist. Again. Takes weeks. I finally find a place where god willing this dumb issue will not crop up again. I get an appointment for last Friday morning. Yay!!!! I decide to start seeing a new therapist too since one was on offer and I was feeling rough. (Last Thursday I said yes to the appointment. This is when I was already having a hard time.)

I see this new psych. He tells me that he’s going to hold the Adderall prescription hostage until I get an EKG and also a bunch of lab tests done. He watches me visibly wilt like a flower trapped in a bell jar. Fine. I go to Quest Diagnostics like he told me to. I get there at 10:30am and I’m #10 on the standby list. At 12:30pm I’m still #10 on the standby list and the nurse comes out and tells us all basically there’s no chance. I pay $6 for parking and leave having wasted two hours and six dollars. 

Fine. I make an appointment for Tuesday, the soonest I could get. (Great, that won’t already be a stressful day!) I find an urgent care place as suggested for the EKG. It’s a mile and a half away. I walk there. I wait an hour and forty minutes before a nurse comes to take my vitals. Because I didn’t expect to be waiting in the exam room for so long I’d taken my jacket off and then got too lazy to get back up and get it even though the AC had inexplicably kicked on. Because of this, and because anxiety makes my extremities go numb, my hands were so cold she had to take multiple pulse oximeter readings. “I’m a vampire,” I joked. “I’m actually dating a vampire,” the nurse said. She explained her boyfriend is Bela Lugosi’s grandson. Los Angeles: lmao. From outside as my eventual results are shared with the doctor I hear, “How is she awake??” 

I put my jacket back on as I wait for the doctor. I lie down. I stick my hands in my pockets. I try to think relaxing thoughts, going to my happy place: earlier this year, the beach at Cannes, walking ankle deep in the Mediterranean. I run through entire Sarah McLachlan songs in my head. By the time the doctor comes in for the EKG I’m feeling very chill. 

Too chill. The doctor has a ridiculously hard time getting a good reading. I’m lying there in an open front paper gown, topless, hooked up to this machine with wires coming off me like a desktop computer running Windows 96. She keeps having to move the little sticker things. We’ve been having a good time since she had to pull out the footrests and keep pulling. “I’m 5’11,” I told her. “I was always mad I didn’t hit six feet.”

“You should just lie,” she said, “How would they know?” I love her. Going forward I will lie. Doctor’s orders! 

I joke that given my previous case of corpse fingers with the pulse oximeter that I’m just a ghost and that’s the issue. She points out that it’s the Day of the Dead. I tell her I tried to haunt my family but their shrines sucked and nobody did the cool skull makeup so I decided to come fuck with some doctors. She laughs. I laugh. We continue to joke around. I love it. All I ever want to do is make people laugh. 

On the third try she finally gets a decent EKG reading though she’s iffy that she may need to do a fourth. Nope, this one is fine. I get to leave. I arrange to have the results faxed to my new psych. “Wait, is my heart okay? Haha,” I say to the receptionist. She passes me a copy of the results and tells me to talk to my doctor. 

It’s all fun and games until I’m walking out at 7:10pm on a Friday night into the cold dark evening with a 1.5 mile walk in front of me and abnormal EKG results that say “possible left atrial enlargement” and “abnormal right axis deviation” and “incomplete right bundle branch block” and “consistent with pulmonary disease”.

Oh. Um. Well. Okay. 

Googling all this leads to results that are scary and not in the “I googled my hangnail and WebMD says I have fingernail cancer” way, more in the there’s actually only so many things all of this together can mean and also the words “consistent with pulmonary disease” are in fact right there in black ink sort of way. Lots of stuff about the very increased likelihood of heart attacks. You hate to see that!!!!

In retrospect maybe it has been weird that I’ve been so aware of my heartbeat all the time lately. Maybe it hasn’t just been caffeine and stress. Well, I’ll call my GP first thing Monday and beg for an appointment ASAP, obviously. In the meantime I’ll try not to freak out. I’ll try to avoid additional stress. 

But, you know, I’ve been meaning to call my grandmother anyway. I still haven’t told her about Klaus. Our relationship has been shaky these last few years since I became estranged from my parents in 2021 after they went QAnon and decided that believing Facebook memes was more important than their relationship with their only child (me!!) and she got mad at me for standing up to them ever. Also she was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in July so that’s been rough. But I figure she should be in the loop. 

I get ahold of her last night. I tell her there’s stuff going on with me, but she should tell me what’s up with her first. I await news of who triumphed in this week’s game of Yahtzee with her cousin and whether or not the Warriors or whatever sports team she’s keeping up with right now are winning. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell you because I know you don’t really care what’s going on with them, but your mom’s moved in with me because your parents are getting a divorce,” she says. 

First I explain, again, as she knows, because she was there, that they are the ones that rejected me. I remind her that my mom got in touch last Thanksgiving saying she missed me and wanted to see me and that I said I felt the same, we just needed to have a serious talk first. I remind her that my mom completely fucking ghosted me after that and has not tried to get in touch since. Even unfriended me on Facebook. Been almost a year now. My parents’ entire relationship with me is less important than their unwillingness to have even one single solitary fucking grown-up conversation. This is a fact. 

And then I’m like, also what???????????????

So apparently my dad (stepdad actually, but he married my mom when I was seven and he’s the only person I’ve ever called Dad) told my mom they should move back to the Central Valley. He said they should sell their house in Sacramento and she should quit her job up there and try to find a new one in Fresno. They sell their house and use the extra to pay off debts, because they are morons who have always lived paycheck to paycheck no matter how big or small those paychecks are. 

Mom asks Grammy if she can move in with her in Fresno while she looks for a new job. Grammy says no. Mom moves in her friend Diane, who was widowed after her idiot MAGA antivaxxer husband got Covid (which he didn’t believe in) and ended up getting an entire lung transplant and then dying anyway. Mom gets a job in Fresno but she doesn’t like it so she quits. 

My stepdad meanwhile has a one bedroom apartment in Sacramento and is still working at his job up there. He puts a bunch of their stuff in storage in Fresno in anticipation of the move. My mom goes up to visit and they celebrate their 34th wedding anniversary. Everything’s fine. 

A week later he calls and says he’s divorcing her. She can keep all the stuff that’s in storage in Fresno. This apparently comes out of nowhere, though not for him I guess (lol?). 

Diane’s landlord finds out my mom’s living there and threatens to evict them due to the unauthorized tenant. Mom has to move in with Grammy. 

And that’s what you missed on Glee!!!!!!!!!

With that out of the way, I tell Grammy my cat died and also I likely have some kind of lung disease and my heart’s maybe fucked. I tell her luckily lol I’m starting therapy again and she says she doesn’t understand that and that she gets depressed sometimes and then she gets over it. She tells me I should get a job because she knows I don’t make enough from my shop. I explain that I’m trying to avoid stress right now because it could very literally give me an actual genuine fucking heart attack. She continues to be a dick because instead of using any of her 85 years of life on this planet to try to become emotionally healthy she has chosen again and again to just lash out when she’s upset and never grow as a person in any capacity whatsoever. I am grateful again that I’m able to take her and my parents as examples of what I don’t want to be. I am far more patient with her than she deserves and we part on decent terms. 

I immediately proceed to storytime this bitch out with the besties. Everyone’s like “What?????” and I’m like “I know!!!!!”

The funniest part is that the parental estrangement was due largely to my mom just fully choosing my stepdad over me, her only child. Which like wasn’t even a surprise really, as she had told me once in a childish and unexpected outburst of anger that she didn’t have a choice but to have me. (Sure she did. She just buried her head in the sand until it was too late.) So it made sense that it would be my stepdad. He was the one she felt she got to choose. Also, she is an asshole.

Hope she feels great now about making that call, lmao!!! How’d that one work out queen?? No husband, no daughter, 62 years old moved back in with your mom who didn’t even want you there, huh? Yikes!!

So anyway, my GP’s office opens in twenty minutes, please cross your fingers for me that I’ll be able to schedule an appointment sometime before my heart bursts out of my chest like the alien in Alien and then dons a tophat and tapdances away from this clusterfuck, an action for which I would not blame it tbh. (Edit: They don't have any appointments until April [what?!] but they have walk-in hours thrice a week. I will get there at 10am Wednesday morning and hopefully they will see me.) New therapist appointment is at 12:30pm, best of luck to her with this goddamned Pandora’s box of bullshit that I’m about to unleash on her. 

Gonna try to relax in the meantime as I am at this moment very aware of the consistent thumping of the tell-tale thing inside my chest. Wish me luck!

[sussex-newswire]

"I wanted to write this column about what I know of Prince Harry, because, as he ­prepares to turn 40 this weekend, I’ve heard a lot of fairly negative things said about him, character assassinations that bear no resemblance to the man I’ve come to count as a friend, the one who cares passionately about injured veterans, and who’s done more than most to change perceptions of mental health in this country.

"...It was genuinely groundbreaking when Harry – or Haz, as I had by then taken to calling him – spoke so movingly about the grief he bottled up after the death of his mother, Diana...Professor Sir Simon Wessely, then president of the Royal ­College of Psychiatrists, said that the Prince had achieved more in terms of communicating ­mental health issues in a 25-minute interview than ­Wessely had in a 25-year career.

...

"I visited them at their then-home Frogmore Cottage in Windsor, was with them at ­Buckingham Palace on the day that they left the UK in 2020, and last year I travelled to their new home in Montecito, to ­interview Harry on the eve of the ­publication of his book, Spare.

"I spent an afternoon at the house, the kids running around happily as we drank tea. Harry proudly showed me the DIY photo wall he’d recently ­created, featuring pictures of his mum.

"When I left, packed off by the happy couple with a jar of their homemade jam (which I then left in the back of a taxi in a ­jet-lagged stupor; somewhere in Los ­Angeles, a cab driver has one of the earliest batches of ­American Riviera Orchard’s ­produce), I was reminded of the fact that they are a pretty ­ordinary ­couple existing in an absolutely ­extraordinary situation.

"There are no airs or graces with them, no desire to do anything other than protect their children from an increasingly digital world that likes nothing more than seeing the worst in people. A world that forgets that no ­matter how high profile a person is, they’re just doing their best, like everyone else."

[grandpsychiatry]

Mental Health Court In Los Angeles - Deal with Mental Illness

The mental health court in Los Angeles provides a wide variety of services to the mentally ill. If you are in or around the Los Angeles area and you need to address the legal issues of a mental/ criminal offense then get in touch with Risa Grand. She is experienced specializing in legal consultations and also handled various mental cases.

[pyramidsoul]

Tribute to P. Kennedy, G. Palermo, P. Dietz and M. McCann for their job

Detective Patrick Francis Kennedy

Detective Kennedy is the one who led the Dahmer’s interrogation with detective D. Murphy and the attorney W. Patrickus. Better known as “Pat”, he decided to follow his father’s and great-grandfather’s steps becoming a policeman, turning himself a detective in the crime division later after moving to Milwaukee.

He received the order to go to the Oxford Apartments, and proceeded with the arrest of the suspect Jeffrey Dahmer. Subsequently he led the interrogation and, thanks to his endearing personality, he succeeded on creating a bond with the serial killer himself. With a mutual trust, he spent lot of time with Dahmer for several weeks getting a full confession, for then attending and testify the man’s trial.

After years, Pat went back to the academy and later began teaching criminal justice at two Wisconsin institutions. He also joined various documentaries about the Dahmer’s case, as the most notorious one “The Jeffrey Dahmer Files” - came out in 2012. He even wrote a book telling his experience (it was called “Dahmer Detective” at first but then it changed to “Grilling Dahmer”).

Pat died in 2013 because of an heart attack at 59.

“I can’t say that I really did, because when I looked at Jeffrey Dahmer, what surprised me the most during the six weeks I talked to him was how very much like you and me he really was. I had breakfast with him, I had lunch with him, I would bring the paper in, showing what the people were saying about him. And it sounds weird that we became friends but we were kind of friendly. We were friends.” - P. Kennedy, 2012.

Doctor George B. Palermo

The psychiatrist George Palermo (whose real name is Giorgio Benito Palermo) was born in Tarquinia, an old city in Italy, and he graduated in Medicine and Surgery from the University of Bologna in 1951. After moving back and forth from Rome to Wisconsin, he came back as a Professor of Criminology at Marquette University.

During Jeffrey Dahmer’s trial psychiatrist G. Palermo was called to offer an objective assessment of the defendant’s mental state. He took stand on 6th February 1992, where Dahmer pleaded guilty to the murders but claimed he was insane, a claim that was shot down by Palermo at trial. Palermo is been one of the few people who irritated and made Dahmer laugh, shaking him out of his stone-like stand.

Palermo served on the faculties of schools around the world and wrote books and scholarly articles, and lectured in places like Russia, China and Japan on a subject many might find revolting. He also liked visiting galleries in Rome because he was an art lover. On October 22, 2005, the Mayor of that time Alessandro Giulivi conferred on him the honorary citizenship of Tarquinia.

George died in 2016 at age 91.

“He looked as if he was used to it, that the courtroom was no hostile environment as far as he was concerned, and that he would get this over with nice and quickly. He was relaxed, urbane, smiling, often joking, slightly superior in manner, friendly and patient. He was patently a nice man and an amusing companion who would make a splendid dinner-guest.” - The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer.

Doctor Park Elliot Dietz

Differently to his physician father and grandfather, Dietz is a forensic psychiatrist, criminologist and he also has consulted for television shows as Law & Order, Law & Order: Los Angeles and Kiss The Girls. He even published books called “Autoerotic Fatalities” and “Psychotherapy and the human predicament: A psychosocial approach”. He’s known for forensic psychiatry and for his expert testimony in high profile criminal cases.

Dietz was hired by the prosecution to evaluate Dahmer's claim that he was "guilty but insane", and so he spent 18 hours with him. He spoke with Dahmer, they watched Dahmer’s favorite movies and porns together, and Dahmer talked with him about the shrine. During his two days of testimony, Dietz held the trial professionally going through every one of the fifteen counts of homicide with a view to deciding in each case whether Dahmer knew right from wrong at the time of the offence and whether his actions betrayed a capacity to conform to the law if he had wanted to.

Park Dietz is also president and founder of Park Dietz & Associates, Inc. and TAG - Threat Assessment Group, Inc. The first is an association of professionals in the psychiatric and forensic field. The second is about educating institutions and individuals about the prevention of violence.

Today the psychiatrist P. Dietz is still alive at age 74, still working.

“Dr Park Dietz made his appearance in the witness-box on Wednesday, 12 February. It was immediately apparent why he was saved until the last, for there was about him an aura of unassailable proficiency. He was alert, meticulous, fastidious, precise, patiently prepared to suffer the task of explaining difficult concepts to the untutored. Like a reluctantly cynical professor, he had learnt that you have to speak slowly if people are to grasp your meaning, and you have to use simple words.” - The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer.

Attorney Edward Michael McCann

E. Michael McCan was both attorney and politician, an he prosecuted numerous high-profile cases during his tenure as district attorney. He went to Milwaukee after he studied and graduated in Detroit and Cambridge, and he served as a prosecutor working under district attorneys, handling criminal appeals heard by the Wisconsin Supreme Court.

McCann is a catholic moral man who was asked to obtain the conviction of Jeffrey Dahmer in 1991. After two weeks of the trial, McCann delivered his closing argument for the prosecution, describing Dahmer as a sane man, in full control of his actions, who simply strove to avoid detection. He argued that by pleading guilty but insane to the charges, Dahmer was seeking to escape responsibility for his crimes. Once again, McCann defeated Boyle’s defence, and Dahmer was ruled to be sane and got his sentence to life imprisonment.

Unfortunately in the last years McCann was in the middle of critics of political, social and economic nature, and so he abandoned the scene in 2007. Following his departure from office in January of that year, McCann joined Marquette University Law School, where he became a Boden Teaching Fellow and adjunct professor of law. Today he’s retired and he’s living quietly at age 87.

“Opposing him would be the District Attorney, Michael McCann, a kindly, compassionate man who felt the burden of his duty to represent the community and give expression to their outrage. He was thorough in preparation, remorseless in presentation, and only appeared unforgiving. He was a deeply moral man whose passionate advocacy reflected his outrage and did not have to be contrived.” - The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer.

Drawing note: I started sketching this art with Pat, as I saw his unique, even goofy, appearance. He looked like a Pixar character, so I decided to draw him in my style to have some fun. I didn’t plan to make a whole drawing with multiple characters at first, but then I sketched Palermo as well since his appearance was so cartoonish too. At the end I decided to amplify the canvas so I could add two additional characters and I decided to include Dietz and McCann. These four are the involved people of Dahmer’s case who hit me the most, and I decided to dedicate them a drawing. I don’t mean to minimize the gravity of the case with this drawing, I don’t want to treat it like a tv series making fanarts out of it, but instead it wants to be a tribute for their amazing job during the case, in my personal own artist way. I don’t mean to offend/disrespect anybody with it. If this causes troubles or unease to somebody, I won’t think twice and I’ll delete it right away. Thank you for reading!

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

Aaron Sibarium

The syllabus was designed with input from Shamsher Samra, a professor of emergency medicine who has endorsed "Palestinians’ right to return" and published research on the "health of border abolition." Though the course initially included an exercise that separated students by race, that lesson was canceled in January after it became the subject of a local civil rights complaint.

Disturbed in part by the incident with Gray-Garcia, some Jewish faculty at the medical school have spoken out against the course, saying it perpetuates an "oppressor vs. oppressed" framework that fuels anti-Semitism. Dubinett alluded to those concerns in his email on Friday, which he said had been sparked by "tensions" over "the conflict in the Middle East." Like many university administrators since the October 7 attacks, he did not mention Jews specifically and appeared to suggest that anti-Semitism and Islamophobia were equally widespread, condemning them both in the same breath.

"We reiterate our stance against racism, antisemitism, Islamophobia and all forms of discrimination, harassment, intimidation or retaliation," Dubinett wrote. "We have an unwavering commitment to raise awareness of the persistent structural factors and social drivers that cause disproportionate disease and poor outcomes among marginalized communities."

UCLA medical school did not respond to a request for comment.

The email, which was also signed by UCLA Health CEO John Mazziotta, said the school would be responding to concerns about anti-Semitism by giving diversity officials more say in the curriculum.

"JEDI teams and vice chairs will provide input for course lecturers and course topics to strengthen medical school course stands," the email says, referring to the medical school’s office of justice, equity, diversity, and inclusion. That office sponsored a talk this month that glorified self-immolation as a form of "revolutionary suicide" and told psychiatrists to "embed your practice with an anti-colonial lens."

[she-is-ovarit]

Trans History (long post sorry)

This post uses "transsexual" in place of "transgender" as this was the widespread accepted terminology until fairly recently and is what was used in the original source for this information.

In 1885 the Criminal Law Act was passed which made homosexual behavior illegal in the UK. Transvestites within the gay movement were easier to identify publicly and became easy targets.

Ernest "Stella" Boulton and Fred "Franny" Park were arrested in 1870 for indecent behavior and attempted to be persecuted on the grounds of cross dressing instead of sodomy. They were let go.

Because of these laws, homosexual transvestites began to seek out doctors to "cure" them. These doctors and researchers were called sexologists. Krafft-Ebbing (1840-1902), professor of psychiatry at Vienna was one of the first to be interested in transvestitic behavior.

Magnus Hirschfeld was another, a Germon sexologist, and his works were considered groundbreaking during the times.

At Hirschfeld's clinic, Dr. Felix Abraham performed the first transsexual operations in 1926 on an unnamed trans man, penectomy on his domestic servant Dora in 1930, and vaginoplasty on Lili Elbe who would die from complications from the procedure.

Christine Jorgeson, former American GI, underwent several transsexual operations and drew attention from the media. The media immediately focused on the appearance of Christine, "Ex-GI Becomes Blonde Beauty". This essentially was effective marketing and brought transsexualism into the public eye. Jorgeson's psychiatrist, Dr. Hamburger (yes really) began to receive a ton of letters from people wanting to change their sex because they wanted to escape homophobia or live in/be associated with the gender roles associated with the other sex.

This caused a bunch of doctors to start their own clinics because they smelled money, such as endocrinologist Harry Benjamin (who trained at Hirschfield's clinic). He went on to publish the first medical textbook on transsexuality called the Transsexual Phenomenon in 1966 and personally began training a bunch of other doctors in the subject. His clinic was based in New York. Dr. Elmer Belt opened up clinics in Los Angeles. Dr. Georges Burou specialized in penicile skin inversion vaginoplasty in Casablanca.

Janice Irvine wrote of transsexualism's "widespread public and professional acceptance" as early as the 1970s. While gay men and women practicing transvestitism were originally criticized (because it was essentially homosexual people defying gender norms associated with their sex), transsexuality on the other hand was almost immediately accepted. Transsexualist origins lie in doctors attempting to "correct" the genitalia of people with disorders of sex development, homosexual people fearing for their lives and attempting to escape incarceration for being homosexual, and (mostly homosexual) people feeling wrong for not conforming to the mannerisms, expressions, and style associated with their sex, culturally.

While the beginnings of transsexual medicine began in the 1950s, with interest in the subject by psychiatrists dating back since the early 1900s, most "treatment facilities" for homosexuality, paraphilias, and gender nonconformity transsexuals became widespread in the 1960s and 1970s. Ira Pauly in 1965 who was a professor of psychiatry at the University of Oregon counted a total of 603 "male to female" transsexuals and 162 "female to male" transsexuals. He then reported on post-operative adjustment of 121 of these people, describing it as successful. He voiced a cautious psychiatric support for transsexualism based on this, stating that since psychology seems to have failures in reverting it and until alternative procedures or treatments are discovered, it was the best approach society had for this demographic.

I mentioned disorders of sex development (DSDs, commonly called "intersex conditions") above. Transsexualism has been closely associated with people with DSDs. In the 1950s, protocols were established for doctors to determine the sex of infants with DSDs, which was a rare anomaly. These infants bodies would then be modified to "correctly" correspond with whatever sex they were assigned by doctors. Transsexualism and the correction of "intersexualism" overlapped because doctors studying transsexualism borrowed procedures used to "correct" infants with DSDs.

Robert Stoller, a professor of psychiatry in California and considered to be a famous transsexual expert by the 1970s, began to focus on badly constructed genetalia. John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore became a headquarters for "treating" both "intersexuality" and "transsexuality". More texts were published: Transsexual Sex Reassignment (1969) by Richard Green and John Money, and The Transsexual Experiment (1975) by Robert Stoller. French psychoanalyst Catherine Millot commented, "there was a sense in which there was no transsexuality before experts like Benjamin and Stoller 'invented it'." There was rare support for transsexuality in 1965, but by 1975 about twenty major medical centers were offering treatment to thousands of transsexual people.

It took until 1977 for transsexual surgeries to be presented to the American Psychiatric Association. By that time "normalization of sex reassignment" was institutionalized and thus "assumed" by John K. Meyer and Donna J. Reter of the APA.

However, when Reter and Meyer by their very forced hands assumed the "normalization" of sex reassignment, they at the same time cast public doubt on it and it's "almost routine acceptance".

While medical doctors and psychiatrists pushed sex reassignment surgery, psycho-analysts almost always remained doubtful of it. A well-known psychoanalyst from New York, Lawrence S. Kubie, publicly rejected and renounced the term "transsexual" completely, suggesting "genital transmutation" was a more accurate fit. He criticized the term "transsexual" stating that the word was too simple for such a complex phenomenon, and falsely alluded that problems had been solved when in reality, they weren't. He illuminated that there were many men at this time that wish to appear as women but to consider themselves and be considered as men who "simulate women", but needed to present themselves as "textbook transsexuals" in order for physicians to agree to alter them. So, these transvestites fell under pressure to conform as transsexuals.

Kubie and his co-author James B. Mackie argued that the concept of transsexualism was a combination of both false diagnoses and lack of clarity on patients, with "emotionally charged" and "dramatic" medical intervention.

Even Robert Stoller in 1973 voiced his own unease in an article he wrote for the American Journal of Psychiatry, describing a "carnival atmosphere that prevails in the management of male transsexualism". Just the patient's request for sex reassignment brought immediate acceptance. By this point, many homosexual transvestites were educating themselves on SRS and HRT to have their sex modified to avoid homophobic persecution, and many even knew more about these procedures than their doctors. Stoller went on to write:

The conservative view among medical professionals at this time was to convince transsexual people/transvestites that they were really the other sex.

Homosexual sociologist Edward Sagarin wrote in a book on "deviants" in 1969 that male-to-female transsexuals suffered from "doubly unacceptable" self-imagery in being both homosexual and feminine, and that the solution was to convince them that they were really women and not men.

Additionally, there were striking observations made of the behaviors of a subset of people seeking sex-reassignment surgeries and hormone treatments:

John Money, the sexologist who infamously forcibly transitioned an intersex child by the name of David Reimer, also described transsexual male people as "devious, demanding, and manipulative"

Meanwhile, L.M. Lothstein who pioneered a study on female-to-male transsexuals in the 1970s and 1980s diagnosed FTM transsexuality as a "profound psychological disorder", describing most as having personality disorders and while not psychotic, having thought disorders that affect their ability to relate to others and sense their reality. Lothstein felt that the solution to help transsexual people didn't lie in surgeries or hormone treatments, but in psychotherapy. He hesitantly felt that it was possible SRS and HRT was needed before psychotherapy to "disrupt their rigid defensive structure".

I'm writing a lot so I'll stop here. Sorry for the abrupt end. I might add more later as a reblog. But here is the primary source that I essentially heavily paraphrased.

[benjamindisco]

I don't really take medicine.

Whenever I have to say that aloud, I cringe. Yes, I believe in the power of modern medicine. I'm not anti-vax. I don't think alternative medicine works (if it did, it would just be called medicine).

I have a phobia.

When I was a baby, I got very sick. I had a massive sustained fever. My skin was covered in red splotches, or was peeling off in layers in other places. My tongue was swollen and red and bumpy, a symptom they call strawberry tongue. A cute name for something so scary.

All the classic symptoms of Scarlet Fever.

(You've all read The Velvetine Rabbit, I hope)

It was not Scarlet Fever.

If treated for that disease, all of my symptoms would have disappeared. I would have made a full recovery. I would have been perfectly healthy.

Until I died of a heart attack around the age of 11.

Kawasaki Disease is a relatively rare heart disease. It affects around 0.015% of children in the US. The cause of this disease is still unknown. If left untreated, major blockages can form in the arteries.

I got very lucky. My pediatrician went to a conference about Kawasaki Disease the week before I showed up in the hospital. I was not treated for Scarlet Fever.

They did not have enough gamma globulin in over 100 miles to treat me; they had to helicopter it in from Los Angeles. I was in the hospital for. A long time. While they put 1 liter of gamma globulin in my tiny 1 year old body.

Did you know that 1 year olds have about 800mL of blood?

I celebrated my second birthday in the hospital.

I did not die of a heart attack at age 11.

I have a phobia of doctors and medicine.

I am very proud of how far I've come in the last few years. I finally learned how to swallow pills at 29 years old. I was able to go to the dentist when I broke a tooth. I got a root canal, and I even went in to get my wisdom teeth removed. I see a psychiatrist, and take psychiatric medicine every day. I've gotten several Covid shots.

I haven't been to a regular doctor in probably 15 years. I still will refuse to take even advil unless I am really suffering. I had to leave my last dentist, and am over a year past due for another cleaning because I can't bring myself to schedule the appointment.

I have a cold for the first time in 5 years. I called out of work because I have a runny nose and a headache, and there's nothing I will do to make that easier on myself.

People will ask me what they should take for such and such symptoms, and all I can say is

I don't really take medicine.

[thevaultofcrime]

Court TV - CA v. Menendez Brothers (1993) & the 2023 appeal.

In this blog entry, we explore the defence team’s cross-examination, focusing on Leslie Abramson’s questioning on behalf of Erik Menendez. She begins by asking Detective Zoller about several crime scene photographs taken by his team in the early morning hours of August 21, 1989. The photos highlighted during the cross-examination focus on key areas: Erik's bedroom, the master bedroom, the kitchen, and the den. As well as the 2023 appeal based on the new evidence of the letter from Erik to Cousin Andy and the boy from the band Menudo. 

Leslie specifically asks if Detective Zoller remembers seeing a wooden tray in Mr. Menendez's closet in the master bedroom. Zoller says he doesn’t recall, though he does remember seeing Mr. Menendez’s wallet, which was later found on the tray alongside ammunition for the rifles recovered from the same closet. However, beyond this, Zoller repeatedly responds that he doesn't "recall" when questioned further by Leslie, effectively closing the cross-examination for Erik's defence. Notably, Lyle’s defence team did not conduct any cross-examination on his behalf. 

Leslie begins another cross-examination with Erik Menendez. She starts by asking where he currently resides, and Erik replies, "Los Angeles County Jail," where he’s been held for three and a half years since his arrest. Leslie then asks how often he’s been allowed outside in the sun. Erik responds, "Ten times," to which Leslie remarks, "Is that why you're so pale?" Erik agrees, explaining that he’s only had 40-45 minutes of sun exposure each time.

Leslie continues by asking if Erik knows Dr. Vicary, to which Erik responds, "My psychiatrist," whom he has been seeing since his incarceration. Erik shares that Dr. Vicary prescribed him Xanax twice a day for anxiety and sleep. On the day of this cross-examination, however, Erik chose not to take it, concerned about drowsiness, a side effect of the medication. Erik’s dosage is only 0.25 milligrams, a small amount.

Leslie then shifts the conversation to Erik’s arrest, which occurred on March 10th or 11th, 1990, shortly after he returned to the U.S. from an international flight. Erik had been in Israel when he received a call from his roommate, Noel Nedley, informing him of Lyle's arrest. Erik immediately made plans to return to Los Angeles, flying from Israel to London, then to Miami, and finally to L.A. By the time he reached London, Erik learned of Lyle’s charges, which included special circumstances that could make the case eligible for the death penalty. Erik knew that the same charges awaited him. Leslie asks if Erik ever considered fighting extradition in Israel or England, to which Erik replies that he didn’t, as all he wanted was to return to his brother, Lyle. 

Watching Erik’s testimony, especially when he tries to explain to Leslie that he told Lyle that their father was molesting him, is incredibly emotional and overwhelming. You can see the weight of his emotions as he recounts such traumatic experiences. It’s difficult to imagine how anyone could deny the truth of his words, especially considering the time in 1989, when issues like sexual abuse within a family were rarely discussed or acknowledged as possible. The stigma and disbelief surrounding such topics back then make it even harder to understand how the severity of his situation could be dismissed so easily. 

The statement made by prosecutor Pam Bozanich, claiming that "men cannot be raped because they lack the necessary equipment to actually be raped," is chilling to hear, especially when viewed through today’s lens. That she said this with such confidence, as though she possessed absolute knowledge that sexual abuse of men was impossible, is deeply disturbing. We know now, of course, that sexual abuse against men happens—it just wasn’t openly discussed or understood before the 1990s. Hearing such a statement from a prosecutor, someone in a position of power, reflects the ignorance and stigma of that era. 

In today's society, where this issue is widely recognized and acknowledged, Pam’s statement feels like a glaring oversight in justice. It underscores why the case of Lyle and Erik Menendez should be reconsidered. If the allegations were truly fabricated, why haven’t their stories changed in over 30 years? This fact alone calls into question the fairness of the second trial, which many believe was a miscarriage of justice. From the judge’s limitation of key evidence presented to the jury, to the defence being restricted from properly defending their clients, to Pam’s disturbing narrative that the entire case was about financial gain—it seems clear that the brothers were denied a fair trial. The prosecution's inability to fully grasp or acknowledge the severity of the abuse, especially when it involved male victims, only adds weight to the argument that this trial failed them.

The abuse Erik endured wasn’t just sexual—it was deeply rooted in control, as seen in the way Jose dictated every aspect of his life, even as Erik reached adulthood. A prime example of this control was when Erik was preparing to go off to college. It wasn’t Erik who chose his own classes; it was Jose who made those decisions for him. Even worse, Jose refused to allow Erik the freedom to live on campus. Despite Erik’s desire to experience the typical "college dream" of living in dorms and being independent, Jose insisted that the only way Erik would attend college was if he continued to live at home.

This level of control over Erik’s life—especially something as personal as his education and independence—is a clear indication of how deeply manipulative and domineering Jose was. Jose’s refusal to give Erik even a shred of autonomy in his college experience is a serious form of psychological abuse, demonstrating how he maintained control over every facet of Erik's life, even as he tried to step into adulthood.

It's evident from the first trial that the abuse leading up to the murders in 1989 was pervasive and deeply traumatic. From the moment of their arrest, the Menendez brothers never denied their responsibility for the murders; the issue was never about whether they committed the crime, but why. The central purpose of the trial should have been to uncover the motive behind their actions, which the defence argued was rooted in years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

The defence effectively presented this reasoning, showing the extensive trauma the brothers had suffered. However, the prosecution refused to accept this as a valid explanation. Instead, they dismissed the "abuse excuse" entirely, focusing on a narrative driven by financial gain. They steered the trial in that direction, overshadowing the overwhelming evidence of abuse and the emotional toll it had taken on the brothers. Despite the defence's efforts to showcase the real reasons behind the murders, the prosecution's focus on money shifted the case away from the abuse that had been thoroughly documented throughout the trial.

In May 2023, the Menendez brothers submitted another appeal, supported by serious allegations from former Menudo member Roy Rosello. Rosello claimed that at just 14 years old, he was drugged and assaulted by Jose Menendez while visiting the family in New Jersey during his time with RCA Records. This shocking revelation adds credibility to the brothers' long-standing claims of abuse.

The appeal also included a letter Erik Menendez wrote to his cousin, Andy Cano, in 1988—11 months before the killings—detailing the continued abuse. This letter bolsters the argument that the brothers' actions were a result of fear and trauma rather than financial gain.

As of October 3, 2024, Los Angeles District Attorney George Gascón announced that his office is actively reviewing the appeal. A decision is expected by the end of October or November. 

I personally believe that, with the new evidence and the support from family members who attended the press conference, the Menendez brothers have served their time and deserve to be released from prison to live out the remainder of their lives. Many family members, as well as others, agree that justice has been served. The brothers have demonstrated solid behaviour and become role models during their time in prison.

If you get interested to dig deeper into this famous case, do yourself a favour and look at the below for a great source of information and their own investigation.  

- Robert Rand, the investigative reporter who followed the case from the night of the murders to this current day. Has written a book and an updated version in recent years. It's a must read if you want truth. The Menedez Murders: The Shocking Untold Story

- Laura Richardson, an award-winning Criminal Behavioural Analyst, former New Scotland Yard. Listen to her 8 part breakdown of the case with special guests that were involved with the case. Crime Analyst - The Menendez Murders

- Court TV for the coverage of Trial One. Court TV - The Menendez Brothers

- You can also find information throughout google depending on what articles you dive into or believe to read. 

I leave you with this thought though, to dig deep into this case and understand why people have and continue to come to the conclusion that the abuse happened and it's why the murders happened. Especially if you take the time to watch the Court TV Trial 1.